She Who Must Be Obeyed
My beautiful and talented wife’s first novel PROSPERO LOST comes out this August. Miranda, daughter of Prospero the Magician, has survived by magic to the modern day, and when her sire vanishes, she pursues the clues to find who in her family — all magicians and sorcerers, naturally, demon-hunters and excorcists, who have been secretly protecting mankind from supernal dangers for five centuries — might be the traitor. I would describe the book as a cross between Shakespeare and Dashiell Hammett, Dante and Roger Zelazny.
Well, she has been interviewed! You can find her wit and wisdom here, at a website called magicword.net. She was inteviewed as part of their Special Guest Friday featrure.
http://magicalwords.net/specialgueststars/special-guest-friday-l.-jagi-lamplighter
My wife, naturally, is named Mrs. John Wright. As an ardent pro-feminist, I insist my helpmeet have no identity aside from mine. However, I allow her to write under her maiden name, L. Jagi Lamplighter, but, of course, as absolute master of my house, I force her to turn all the moneys over to me, so that she will not buy any shoes. One cannot keep a wife bearfoot and pregnant in the kitchen if she has shoes, of course. And if she ever gets a pair of shoes, she will return to the swan-world, leaving me and the children bereft.
My friends who are not ardent pro-feminists do not understand why I allowed her to learn how to read: women, after all, once they start reading with pick up bad habits like thinking and getting ideas and joining the Church. As an ardent pro-feminist, I find their ideas backward, even Neanderthal! There are many books, after all, we males can force our servile woman-beasts to read which will keep them confused, frightened, humble, and subservient.The secret is, not to let your wife call you by your first name, because this will make her feel above herself.
But please don’t tell my wife I wrote this paragraph. Like all well-domesticated husbands, I tremble and obey. Last time I was uppity, she almost had me thrown to the snakes.
You can see the scene from the film clip above, photographed by our home security system. You might wonder why I, ardent pro-feminist John C. Wright (a) look like Count Dooku the Evil Jedi and (b) am the one kneeling and fawning, if I am the absolute master of my house. The answer is simple. (a) In this scene, I do not look like Count Dooku, I look like Saruman of the Many-Colors, the Evil Istari. (b) I am fawning and bowing so as not to get thrown to the snakes. Ask any married man how this works.
Being absolute master may seem advantageous at first, but newlyweds soon find that it is best to use that absolute authority only as she sees fit, when (or better yet before) she sees fit, and without question.
In any case, Mrs. Wright, or “She Who Must Be Obeyed” has ordered me to provide a link to my readers to her interview, as I have done, cringing, and furthermore compels, conjures, and commands that we all go out and buy her book. Some orders are a delight to obey.
I include an image of her book cover, so you can recognize it when you go shopping this August. Failures to purchase will be noted: remember that, thanks to the Internet, all your purchases are now tracked!
About John C Wright
John C. Wright is a practicing philosopher, a retired attorney, newspaperman, and newspaper editor, and a published author of science fiction. Once a Houyhnhnm, he was expelled from the august ranks of purely rational beings when he fell in love; but retains an honorary title.
