The Minutiae of Life as a Militant Squirrel

Best. Thing. Ever.

The interrogation of a fourteenth-century cross-dressing male prostitute.

I pretty much died laughing.

Last night, in a fit of obsessive-compulsive attention to detail, I got to talking with the student worker on duty about medieval Africa, and where Pete was likely to come from in that time period. I learned a lot of interesting new things, and gave an impromptu lecture on the history behind the mythos of Robin Hood, and it was all quite fun. The last part of the conversation goes like this:

Redheaded Firecracker: . . . and so that's the Magna Carta, which the nobles forced King John to sign at the meadow of Runnymeade, in 1215.

Student Worker: Pretty cool.

RF: You know what's really cool about it? Tradition has that it was signed on June 15! That's my birthday!

SW: You are such a dork.

RF: But in a good way, right?

Hee.

And I promptly went and corrected my story so that it more accurately reflects the name of the area where a medieval Pete was likely to have originated. I am such a rivet-counter.

But doesn't it drive you absolutely nuts when someone is writing a historical novel and they've got their facts wrong? The tiniest details help make a story great, and mistakes just ruin it. Don't you think?

Or maybe that's just me.