Per the fine folks at Tiger Technologies, who show me what search terms people have used to reach my website:
susan higginbotham bio
"The Childhood Years" has some interesting stuff in it, but "The Teen Years" is a bit of a drag. Skip forward to "The College Years."
susan higginbothams epidemiology
Only my epidemiologist knows for sure.
brief story of edward ii
He was king. Some people didn't like that. Including his wife.
did edward ii kill the ladies
No. (What are you trying to do, complicate my story?)
katherine wingfield or katherine wingfield or wingfield katherine
This is a person who's taking no chances.
jacquetta de luxembourg or jacquetta de luxembourg or de luxembourg jacquetta
If I were a matchmaker, I'd get this searcher together with the last one.
biography and ontributions of king edward 2
Evidently, the letter "c" wasn't one of them
are there still dukes and duchesses
Yes. Thanks to:
medieval duke and duchess sex
Resulting in:
son of duke and duchess
can isabella of france make you have money
She's certainly free to try. Just send it to my PayPal account.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Historical Tweets, Medieval- and Tudor-Style
As some of you might know, there's a website called Historical Tweets. Here are a few of my own contributions to this worthy endeavor. Have you got some? (Messages have to be 140 characters or less.)
Edward II:
Found someone to fill the void in my heart. Hugh’s OK with the rowing too. Wonder if anyone would fuss if I gave him some land in Wales.
Isabella:
Going to France to spend some time with the family and make a few business contacts. Sweet!
Edward IV:
Waiting for Hastings to show up with yet another widow wanting me to help her with her dower rights. Yawn. Will get rid of her quickly.
Richard III:
Those pesky bastards are out of the way, the northerners just can’t get enough of me, and Anne and the kid are fine. Yeah! I’m the man!
Henry Tudor:
Getting ready to go to England. Love Mum but wish she wouldn’t keep nagging me to bring lots of warm clothes and raingear. It's August!
Thomas More:
Really getting fed up with the Richard III book; think I’ll start another project. Agent says there’s not that much interest in him anyway.
Edward II:
Found someone to fill the void in my heart. Hugh’s OK with the rowing too. Wonder if anyone would fuss if I gave him some land in Wales.
Isabella:
Going to France to spend some time with the family and make a few business contacts. Sweet!
Edward IV:
Waiting for Hastings to show up with yet another widow wanting me to help her with her dower rights. Yawn. Will get rid of her quickly.
Richard III:
Those pesky bastards are out of the way, the northerners just can’t get enough of me, and Anne and the kid are fine. Yeah! I’m the man!
Henry Tudor:
Getting ready to go to England. Love Mum but wish she wouldn’t keep nagging me to bring lots of warm clothes and raingear. It's August!
Thomas More:
Really getting fed up with the Richard III book; think I’ll start another project. Agent says there’s not that much interest in him anyway.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Thomas Vaughan, Executed June 25, 1483
On June 25, 1483, three men died at the command of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who would become Richard III the next day. All three were intimately associated with Edward V: Anthony Woodville, his maternal uncle; Richard Grey, his half-brother; and Thomas Vaughan, his chamberlain. You can read about their execution here and about Richard Grey here.
All three men's deaths were tragic and most likely amounted to nothing less than judicial murder, but Thomas Vaughan's fate is particularly sad. A Welshman who was granted denizenship in 1443, he entered royal service as early as 1446, long before Richard III was even born. Though Vaughan had initially served Henry VI, he joined the Yorkists in 1459 and from then on was unshakably faithful to the House of York and to Edward IV.
In 1471, Edward IV, having been restored to power, made Vaughan the chamberlain of his infant son, Edward. It was a position that Vaughan would hold for the rest of his life, and one that would prove fatal to him. Vaughan carried his charge in his arms on state occasions, such as the welcoming of Louis of Gruuthuse to England, and was knighted alongside young Edward in 1475.
Vaughan was not only an administrator but an experienced soldier, who had fought in several battles and who had been captured by French pirates in 1461. Had Vaughan been involved in a plot to ambush Gloucester, as Richard and his present-day admirers have claimed, he and the troops who formed Edward V's escort would have surely been on guard as they waited at Stony Stratford for Richard and the rest of the party from Northampton to arrive. Instead, Vaughan's arrest on April 30, 1483, seems to have been accomplished by Gloucester almost effortlessly.
Vaughan, who must have been in his sixties--he is described by the Crowland Chronicler as "an aged knight"--was probably a grandfather figure to young Edward. Now this relationship was brutally severed by Gloucester. One hopes that at least the twelve-year-old king was spared the sight of the man who had served him since infancy being hauled off in chains.
Richard sent Vaughan to Pontefract Castle. As Mancini reports, Gloucester wanted Vaughan, Richard Grey, and Anthony Woodville to be executed straightaway, but the council refused "because there appeared no certain case as regards the ambushes, and even had the crime been manifest, it would not have been treason, for at the time of the alleged ambushes he was neither regent nor did he hold any other public office." Soon, however, Gloucester would be able to dispense with the council, having made himself king. With the crown safely within Richard's grasp, Vaughan and the rest were executed at Pontefract after either no trial at all or a mockery of one.
Hall's Chronicle gives a scaffold speech to Vaughan in which he speaks of a prophecy that "G" would destroy Edward IV's children. Vaughan then adds, "I appeal to the high tribunal of God for this wrongful murder and our true innocence," and advises Sir Richard Ratcliffe (who died at the Battle of Bosworth), "I die in the right, beware you die not in the wrong." How authentic this speech is cannot be determined, but one hopes that this faithful old Yorkist died proudly. He was buried in the Chapel of St. John the Baptist at Westminster Abbey, where part of his memorial brass survives. Whether the burial took place in 1483 or after Richard's own death is unknown.
Vaughan had a grown stepson, George Brown, who joined the rebellion of October 1483 against Richard III. Sadly, he was captured and executed, but Brown's own stepson, Edward Poynings, fled abroad and survived to have a successful career under Henry VII and Henry VIII. Poynings also had a busy private life: he had seven illegitimate children when he died in 1521.
Sources:
C. A. J. Armstrong, ed., The Usurpation of Richard III. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969 (2d. ed.).
Calendar of Patent Rolls.
Steven G. Ellis, ‘Poynings, Sir Edward (1459–1521)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/22683, accessed 25 June 2009].
Louise Gill, Richard III and Buckingham's Rebellion. Gloucestershire: Sutton, 2000.
R. A. Griffiths, ‘Vaughan, Sir Thomas (d. 1483)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, Sept 2004; online edn, Jan 2008 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/28147, accessed 25 June 2009].
Hall's Chronicle.
Rosemary Horrox, Richard III: A Study in Service. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.
Nicholas Pronay and John Cox, eds., The Crowland Chronicle Continuations, 1459–1486. London: Richard III and Yorkist History Trust: 1986.
All three men's deaths were tragic and most likely amounted to nothing less than judicial murder, but Thomas Vaughan's fate is particularly sad. A Welshman who was granted denizenship in 1443, he entered royal service as early as 1446, long before Richard III was even born. Though Vaughan had initially served Henry VI, he joined the Yorkists in 1459 and from then on was unshakably faithful to the House of York and to Edward IV.
In 1471, Edward IV, having been restored to power, made Vaughan the chamberlain of his infant son, Edward. It was a position that Vaughan would hold for the rest of his life, and one that would prove fatal to him. Vaughan carried his charge in his arms on state occasions, such as the welcoming of Louis of Gruuthuse to England, and was knighted alongside young Edward in 1475.
Vaughan was not only an administrator but an experienced soldier, who had fought in several battles and who had been captured by French pirates in 1461. Had Vaughan been involved in a plot to ambush Gloucester, as Richard and his present-day admirers have claimed, he and the troops who formed Edward V's escort would have surely been on guard as they waited at Stony Stratford for Richard and the rest of the party from Northampton to arrive. Instead, Vaughan's arrest on April 30, 1483, seems to have been accomplished by Gloucester almost effortlessly.
Vaughan, who must have been in his sixties--he is described by the Crowland Chronicler as "an aged knight"--was probably a grandfather figure to young Edward. Now this relationship was brutally severed by Gloucester. One hopes that at least the twelve-year-old king was spared the sight of the man who had served him since infancy being hauled off in chains.
Richard sent Vaughan to Pontefract Castle. As Mancini reports, Gloucester wanted Vaughan, Richard Grey, and Anthony Woodville to be executed straightaway, but the council refused "because there appeared no certain case as regards the ambushes, and even had the crime been manifest, it would not have been treason, for at the time of the alleged ambushes he was neither regent nor did he hold any other public office." Soon, however, Gloucester would be able to dispense with the council, having made himself king. With the crown safely within Richard's grasp, Vaughan and the rest were executed at Pontefract after either no trial at all or a mockery of one.
Hall's Chronicle gives a scaffold speech to Vaughan in which he speaks of a prophecy that "G" would destroy Edward IV's children. Vaughan then adds, "I appeal to the high tribunal of God for this wrongful murder and our true innocence," and advises Sir Richard Ratcliffe (who died at the Battle of Bosworth), "I die in the right, beware you die not in the wrong." How authentic this speech is cannot be determined, but one hopes that this faithful old Yorkist died proudly. He was buried in the Chapel of St. John the Baptist at Westminster Abbey, where part of his memorial brass survives. Whether the burial took place in 1483 or after Richard's own death is unknown.
Vaughan had a grown stepson, George Brown, who joined the rebellion of October 1483 against Richard III. Sadly, he was captured and executed, but Brown's own stepson, Edward Poynings, fled abroad and survived to have a successful career under Henry VII and Henry VIII. Poynings also had a busy private life: he had seven illegitimate children when he died in 1521.
Sources:
C. A. J. Armstrong, ed., The Usurpation of Richard III. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969 (2d. ed.).
Calendar of Patent Rolls.
Steven G. Ellis, ‘Poynings, Sir Edward (1459–1521)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/22683, accessed 25 June 2009].
Louise Gill, Richard III and Buckingham's Rebellion. Gloucestershire: Sutton, 2000.
R. A. Griffiths, ‘Vaughan, Sir Thomas (d. 1483)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, Sept 2004; online edn, Jan 2008 [http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/28147, accessed 25 June 2009].
Hall's Chronicle.
Rosemary Horrox, Richard III: A Study in Service. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.
Nicholas Pronay and John Cox, eds., The Crowland Chronicle Continuations, 1459–1486. London: Richard III and Yorkist History Trust: 1986.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
An Interview With Me, and Playing with Bookshelves
I was pleased to see that Heather Domin has posted an interview she did with me as part of a write-up for the Historical Novels Review. Thanks, Heather! You can enjoy Heather's online serial novel, Valerian's Legion: The Soldier of Raetia, here.
My novel about Margaret of Anjou is beginning to take more of a shape. I've almost decided where I want to start it and where I want to end it, and I'm getting a sense of which historical characters will play major roles. And I found more useful sources today with a quick trip to the Duke University library!
The Duke University library, by the way, has recently been renovated, and it's quite a sight to see. It has sliding bookshelves which one operates with the push of a button, and I love pushing the buttons and watching the shelves slide apart (or together, as the case may be). Seriously cool. I should have taken a video.
My novel about Margaret of Anjou is beginning to take more of a shape. I've almost decided where I want to start it and where I want to end it, and I'm getting a sense of which historical characters will play major roles. And I found more useful sources today with a quick trip to the Duke University library!
The Duke University library, by the way, has recently been renovated, and it's quite a sight to see. It has sliding bookshelves which one operates with the push of a button, and I love pushing the buttons and watching the shelves slide apart (or together, as the case may be). Seriously cool. I should have taken a video.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Words, Words, Words!
There's been an interesting discussion on Nan Hawthorne's blog about historical accuracy in which the question of word usage has come up. Should writers of historical fiction try to "write forsoothly"? Or simply to avoid using any words that weren't current during the period in question? Or should they stick to modern language and usage? Or should they just say to heck with it and have a medieval English heroine speaking like a 1980's American teenager, as I've seen in some romance novels?
I won't get into the whole debate here, but I'll say that in my own novels, I've stuck to modern language and usage, though I try my best to avoid anachronisms (such as "sidetracked" or "railroaded") and modern slang. (I'm sure I haven't always succeeded, though.) Part of this is purely personal preference: Certes, I feel rather silly writing "certes." But I've also a nobler reason: reader sanity.
Take, for instance, a letter by the imprisoned Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, to Henry VIII in 1546 when the duke, desperate to save his head by reminding the king of his past services, asked, "Who showed His Majesty of the words of my mother-in-law, for which she was attainted of misprision but only I?" Now, when the duke refers to his "mother-in-law," he is referring to Agnes, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, whom we would call his stepmother. So if I were writing a novel about the duke, I would be following contemporary usage if I had him refer to Agnes as his mother-in-law, but I would also be puzzling most readers. I could add a footnote or include a glossary, I suppose, but do I really want to take the readers out of the story by having them check a reference or flip back to the glossary? In my opinion, in a novel, it's easier for all concerned to simply let Norfolk refer to the old duchess as his stepmother and be done with it. (Probably after being incriminated by the duke, the duchess had her own way of referring to him, but medieval cursing is beyond the scope of this post.)
With regard to family relationships, one sees other contemporary usages that can confuse. In her 1480 will, for instance, Anne Neville, the Duchess of Buckingham, refers to her "daughter Richmond" and to her "sonne of Buckingham." The reader unversed in contemporary usage might well assume that the duchess is referring to her daughter and to her son; in fact, she is referring to her daughter-in-law Margaret Beaufort, the Countess of Richmond, and to her grandson Harry, Duke of Buckingham. Having the duchess stick to contemporary usage might well result in reader loss of hair, and I have no financial interest in the wig industry. Therefore, in my novel, I let the duchess use modern terms: "daughter-in-law" for Margaret and "grandson" for Harry. Just thank me when your beautician admires your full crop of hair.
Other differences in usage can lead to rather more amusing consequences. It's safe to say that when Jean Plaidy titled a novel Gay Lord Robert, she didn't anticipate the modern snickers that would ensue. I myself remember reading a novel by Betty Smith, set, I think, back in the 1940's, when the heroine boasted about "making love" to her husband in public. Now, the heroine was an extrovert, but not that much of an extrovert, so naturally this made my seventeen-year-old self perk up with excitement. Quickly, though, I discovered that what the heroine meant by "making love" was no more than what my high school principal termed "a display of affection." Still, though, the modern association the term has with "sexual intercourse" might make it risky to use in a historical novel.
Which brings me to yet another Duke of Norfolk, John Howard. In 1485, while preparing to resist the invasion of Henry Tudor, he wrote a letter to John Paston urging him to bring "seche company of tall men" to meet him. He signed the letter, "Yower lover." Now, no one would seriously suggest, I think, that John Howard and John Paston were "lovers" in the sense in which we would use the word; such fulsome language was not unusual in the fifteenth century, especially when one had a favor to ask. But in a novel, would I have a man use this language when addressing another man? Only if I did intend the reader to believe that they were lovers in the modern sense or only if I were prepared to add a great deal of explanatory context.
Did John Howard's appeal succeed, by the way? Nope. When the Battle of Bosworth was fought, John Paston was not there.
I won't get into the whole debate here, but I'll say that in my own novels, I've stuck to modern language and usage, though I try my best to avoid anachronisms (such as "sidetracked" or "railroaded") and modern slang. (I'm sure I haven't always succeeded, though.) Part of this is purely personal preference: Certes, I feel rather silly writing "certes." But I've also a nobler reason: reader sanity.
Take, for instance, a letter by the imprisoned Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, to Henry VIII in 1546 when the duke, desperate to save his head by reminding the king of his past services, asked, "Who showed His Majesty of the words of my mother-in-law, for which she was attainted of misprision but only I?" Now, when the duke refers to his "mother-in-law," he is referring to Agnes, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, whom we would call his stepmother. So if I were writing a novel about the duke, I would be following contemporary usage if I had him refer to Agnes as his mother-in-law, but I would also be puzzling most readers. I could add a footnote or include a glossary, I suppose, but do I really want to take the readers out of the story by having them check a reference or flip back to the glossary? In my opinion, in a novel, it's easier for all concerned to simply let Norfolk refer to the old duchess as his stepmother and be done with it. (Probably after being incriminated by the duke, the duchess had her own way of referring to him, but medieval cursing is beyond the scope of this post.)
With regard to family relationships, one sees other contemporary usages that can confuse. In her 1480 will, for instance, Anne Neville, the Duchess of Buckingham, refers to her "daughter Richmond" and to her "sonne of Buckingham." The reader unversed in contemporary usage might well assume that the duchess is referring to her daughter and to her son; in fact, she is referring to her daughter-in-law Margaret Beaufort, the Countess of Richmond, and to her grandson Harry, Duke of Buckingham. Having the duchess stick to contemporary usage might well result in reader loss of hair, and I have no financial interest in the wig industry. Therefore, in my novel, I let the duchess use modern terms: "daughter-in-law" for Margaret and "grandson" for Harry. Just thank me when your beautician admires your full crop of hair.
Other differences in usage can lead to rather more amusing consequences. It's safe to say that when Jean Plaidy titled a novel Gay Lord Robert, she didn't anticipate the modern snickers that would ensue. I myself remember reading a novel by Betty Smith, set, I think, back in the 1940's, when the heroine boasted about "making love" to her husband in public. Now, the heroine was an extrovert, but not that much of an extrovert, so naturally this made my seventeen-year-old self perk up with excitement. Quickly, though, I discovered that what the heroine meant by "making love" was no more than what my high school principal termed "a display of affection." Still, though, the modern association the term has with "sexual intercourse" might make it risky to use in a historical novel.
Which brings me to yet another Duke of Norfolk, John Howard. In 1485, while preparing to resist the invasion of Henry Tudor, he wrote a letter to John Paston urging him to bring "seche company of tall men" to meet him. He signed the letter, "Yower lover." Now, no one would seriously suggest, I think, that John Howard and John Paston were "lovers" in the sense in which we would use the word; such fulsome language was not unusual in the fifteenth century, especially when one had a favor to ask. But in a novel, would I have a man use this language when addressing another man? Only if I did intend the reader to believe that they were lovers in the modern sense or only if I were prepared to add a great deal of explanatory context.
Did John Howard's appeal succeed, by the way? Nope. When the Battle of Bosworth was fought, John Paston was not there.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Love Me, Love My Author?
I have a confession to make: I've never read a novel by Dorothy Dunnett. I've never even tried. I do, however, have a copy of King Hereafter in my book annex, otherwise known as my garage. But that's the closest I've come to reading her.
One reason I suspect I've let King Hereafter sit forlornly in the garage is the overzealousness of some of Dunnett's readers, who take the decided opinion that if you don't care for Dunnett's works, you must be simply too dense to grasp her wit and subtlety. I saw this phenomenon recently on a Yahoo group where an avid fan declared loftily that those who like historical romance will not like Dunnett, whereas those who like historical fiction will. In other words, if you don't like Dunnett, it must be because you're an intellectual lightweight who should stick to reading novels with lead characters named "Vixen" and "Blade." Or maybe just to coloring books.
Now, it's natural, I suppose, when one is wildly enthusiastic about an author, to try to win as many converts as possible. But deriding the tastes of those who don't share yours doesn't have the desired effect. In fact, it can even backfire on the hapless author: if a writer's fans are jerks, it's too easy to suppose that her books appeal to jerks, and to pass them by accordingly.
This sort of zealotry is by no means confined to Dunnett admirers, of course, and it's by no means confined to fans of authors either: readers who dislike an author can be just as intolerant of differing opinions. In this case, a unsuspecting reader will offer the name of an author for discussion, only to be greeted with a curt "Ooh! How can you like her? She's awful."
But it's getting late and Boswell is getting tired, so let's get back to Dunnett. Tell me what your favorite Dunnett novel is. Tell me who your favorite Dunnett character is. Tell me what you like about her novels. Tell me why I might like her novels. Quote some good bits to me. But don't tell me that if I read her and don't like her, it means my brain is full of mush. Because stubborn cuss that I am, all that does is make me reach for a novel by someone else--and goodness knows, there's no shortage of alternatives.
One reason I suspect I've let King Hereafter sit forlornly in the garage is the overzealousness of some of Dunnett's readers, who take the decided opinion that if you don't care for Dunnett's works, you must be simply too dense to grasp her wit and subtlety. I saw this phenomenon recently on a Yahoo group where an avid fan declared loftily that those who like historical romance will not like Dunnett, whereas those who like historical fiction will. In other words, if you don't like Dunnett, it must be because you're an intellectual lightweight who should stick to reading novels with lead characters named "Vixen" and "Blade." Or maybe just to coloring books.
Now, it's natural, I suppose, when one is wildly enthusiastic about an author, to try to win as many converts as possible. But deriding the tastes of those who don't share yours doesn't have the desired effect. In fact, it can even backfire on the hapless author: if a writer's fans are jerks, it's too easy to suppose that her books appeal to jerks, and to pass them by accordingly.
This sort of zealotry is by no means confined to Dunnett admirers, of course, and it's by no means confined to fans of authors either: readers who dislike an author can be just as intolerant of differing opinions. In this case, a unsuspecting reader will offer the name of an author for discussion, only to be greeted with a curt "Ooh! How can you like her? She's awful."
But it's getting late and Boswell is getting tired, so let's get back to Dunnett. Tell me what your favorite Dunnett novel is. Tell me who your favorite Dunnett character is. Tell me what you like about her novels. Tell me why I might like her novels. Quote some good bits to me. But don't tell me that if I read her and don't like her, it means my brain is full of mush. Because stubborn cuss that I am, all that does is make me reach for a novel by someone else--and goodness knows, there's no shortage of alternatives.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Monday Update
Last week was a pretty miserable one for me, between spending one night in the emergency room with a relative, having to replace the water heater for the second time in two years, and not having the fun of attending the Historical Novel Society conference, so I sorely needed some cheering up yesterday with a productive trip to the library. And it was productive! Not only did I find almost everything on Margaret of Anjou that I came for, the library staff very kindly intercepted one journal for me just before it went into processing to go into storage. God only knows how long it would have taken to retrieve from the black hole of processing it if I'd come a day later.
As you might have gathered, I've pretty much honed in for Margaret of Anjou for my next novel. She's gotten a lot of bad press, much of it undeserved (for instance, contrary to accounts by Shakespeare and by some recent historical novelists, the latter of whom should certainly know better, she wasn't even at the Battle of Wakefield, where the Duke of York was killed). So now it's just a matter of getting started.
On a historical fiction note, if you're a Jean Plaidy fan or want to know more about her novels, do check out Historical Tapestry, which is in the midst of a "Jean Plaidy Season." There's been some great posts there lately, including a priceless one by Daphne about some cover art. Check out the one for The Goldsmith's Wife (Jane Shore) in particular! I'll be doing a guest post there next week sometime.
Oh, and I'd like to welcome Joan Szechtman to blogdom with Random Thoughts of an Accidental Author! Joan is a fellow member of the Richard III Society. It can get lonely blogging about the fifteenth century, so I'm glad to have another fellow traveler (albeit one who likes Richard III rather better than I do) out here!
As you might have gathered, I've pretty much honed in for Margaret of Anjou for my next novel. She's gotten a lot of bad press, much of it undeserved (for instance, contrary to accounts by Shakespeare and by some recent historical novelists, the latter of whom should certainly know better, she wasn't even at the Battle of Wakefield, where the Duke of York was killed). So now it's just a matter of getting started.
On a historical fiction note, if you're a Jean Plaidy fan or want to know more about her novels, do check out Historical Tapestry, which is in the midst of a "Jean Plaidy Season." There's been some great posts there lately, including a priceless one by Daphne about some cover art. Check out the one for The Goldsmith's Wife (Jane Shore) in particular! I'll be doing a guest post there next week sometime.
Oh, and I'd like to welcome Joan Szechtman to blogdom with Random Thoughts of an Accidental Author! Joan is a fellow member of the Richard III Society. It can get lonely blogging about the fifteenth century, so I'm glad to have another fellow traveler (albeit one who likes Richard III rather better than I do) out here!
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