Around my wrist I wear a set of 73 carnelians cut and faceted in Roman workshops in the first century. They were a present from Kelley for our tenth anniversary. I am passionately attached to them.
I use the plural, workshops, because it’s obvious that they are from several different times and places–different colour and clarity, different sizes, different wear patterns. Some, I think, might have been worn for a couple of hundred years; some for only a generation. They were dug up from Bahariya Oasis in Egypt, a centre of Greco-Roman winemaking around the third and fourth centuries. In other words (though no one at the gallery would admit this), they are grave goods.
I don’t know the provenance, the chain of custody, of my beads. All I can tell you is they came from a respectable gallery in Australia. I prefer to believe that they were properly excavated, recorded in context, and then legally sold. But I honestly don’t know. All I know is I won’t give them up, and they’ve sparked much daydreaming.
They are part of the organising matrix of my fiction about Hild. Originally, I thought I’d write one longish novel about this fascinating woman. But then I found that she wore my beads. And then I wanted to write about a woman of the 3rd century CE who also wore the beads, and a woman of the 10th century, ditto. (Rather thrillingly–at least to me–she’s Aud the Deepminded, the historical inspiration for Aud of The Blue Place and two other novels.) And the Hild novel grew in my mind to two or possibly three novels. So I have a four or five novel sequence laid out in my head: the Carnelian Sequence.
They look particularly beautiful in the sunlight. Over the years I’ve tried to catch their fire in photographs, and been driven to despair. The picture above, taken by FoAN Jennifer Durham, comes the closest to how they look in real life. (I believe she used tungsten lights to mimic sunlight.)
So my creative dance card is pretty full, just with the Carnelian Sequence. And yet, as always, I have ideas circling, waiting to land, like a skyful of planes running low on fuel: movies, tv series, stories, novels, graphic novels. Some will crash before I can land them safely, but, wow, it feels marvellous to watch them all tonight, twinkling away up there.
Nicola Griffith 
Sidepoint– my wedding ring is made of tungsten!So, this is kind of awesome. I really like things that have historical (or prehistorical) depth without “value.” Like discarded fossils– not every fossil of a trilobite has cash-worth, so you can get one.What I really want lately is a replica neanderthal skull.
It is beautiful. I believe that grave robbing only recently became a sin or illegal or whatever. But think of the culture and history that have been preserved by this particular felony. Astonishing photo, Jennifer.
How wonderful to have something so simple that is also so beautiful and so meaningful for you. Mordicai- I’d love that replica too! And something from a T Rex, and something for 3,000 Macedonia and so many more…duff
It is special and beautiful. I am reminded (oddly) of looking at stars. The closest is like 4 light years away. Light travels around 5 Trillion miles in a year. It’s so old and has traveled so far by the time it twinkles in my eye. Much like what you wear on your wrist.
My god, Jennifer. That photo. Takes my breath away!Sarah
I think the Carnelian Sequence sounds brilliant <>and<> thrilling. I can’t wait. But I have to. sigh.Those beads are amazing. All that history on top of how beautiful they are and how special they are to you Nicola, made me feel privileged and awed to hold them. Sitting in the hot lights made them get warm, and they felt almost like something alive.Um Sarah, maybe you should come over and see my other etchings…. But thanks for the compliments on the photo all.
Beautiful beads. And nice photo. I don’t think any of the objects I keep has inspired me to weave story after story around it. I find your Carnelian attachment and its backstory fascinating. I also like your ‘planes low on fuel waiting to be landed’ analogy. Keith Maillard, the chair of our CrWr dept, uses it, too. Says sometimes a writer clears the runway because it looks like the 747 is ready to land, but it was a light aircraft. And sometimes two or three planes must touch ground simultaneously and the control tower has to figure out a way to keep them from crashing into each other. Tricky business…
Love the idea of the Carnelian Sequence! Am reminded of the emerald signet ring that appears in many of Sutcliff’s novels.
What a phenomenal photo! I was going to comment …”if those beads could talk…” but you are going to give them a voice!
<>mordicai<>, I like ammonites, but since Ammonite was published, readers have sent me probably two dozen of them. On day I’ll spend the money to have our driveway done in that eco-friendly concrete, and set a few of them in it.<>barbara<>, a lot of grave goods are sold perfectly legally. A lot aren’t. But with regard to my carnelians I’m with Charlton Heston: you’ll have to pry them from my cold dead hands.<>duff<>, they make me very happy.<>robin<>, they burn like little suns, sometimes.<>sarah<>, she did a good job, didn’t she?<>jennifer<>, well, others rarely feel the same way I do about the beads but they’re one of the very, very few things I’ve ever fallen for, madly and completely, right out of the box. The other thing, of course, is < HREF="http://asknicola.blogspot.com/2008/05/flossie.html" REL="nofollow">Flossie<>.<>karina<>, I’ve been using that metaphor for about ten years. I’ve never found anything more appropriate.<>anonymous<>, yes! That flawed emerald signet ring–I’d forgotten about that. How cool…<>linda<>, yes, and now that they’ve started, they won’t shut up.
Carnelian is called ‘aqiq’ here. Shi’a men wear them in silver rings on their right hands. Some have beautiful calligraphy engraved into the stone.Your bracelet is beautiful.
Romans often used carnelian intaglio as seals. The Shi’a rings sound as though they might have originated for the same purpose.
I stumbled upon this vintage post after finishing Hild. I'm always fascinated by the lives of physical artifacts, and I have a special interest in stones. I can't tell you how delighted I was to discover that Hild's carnelians are real.
They are real. I am passionately attached to them. I wear them in this video of me reading from Hild.