A few years ago, I was enraptured by the life story of a nine year old Egyptian princess who was taken prisoner by the Romans, dragged through the streets in chains, and yet went on to be the most powerful queen in Augustus’ empire. I decided to write some books about her, the most recent of which is Song of the Nile: A Novel of Cleopatra’s Daughter.
Because I’ve spent so long studying Cleopatra Selene, I get asked a lot of strange questions ranging from whether or not the Egyptians really had turquoise (they did) to the true location of Cleopatra’s tomb (nobody knows). But one thing that keeps cropping up again and again: why do you hate the ancient Romans so much?
Now, the heroine of my novels doesn’t think much of the Romans. She wouldn’t. She was a Hellenized princess who–although half-Roman by blood–spent her young life in Egypt. An Egypt she was almost certainly raised to believe that she would rule as queen. In writing my novels, I assumed that even the most mature teenager, no matter how nuanced to the vagaries of power, would be resentful of having her kingdom taken away from her. Perhaps she would be even more resentful of having been dragged through the streets as a chained captive. Knowing that her life and her future was at the mercy of the very man who forced her parents to suicide can’t have endeared them to her. And she was bound to have had culture shock.
So, I made Cleopatra Selene hate the Romans. That doesn’t mean I do.
As I say in the beginning of Lily of the Nile in a note to my readers, the anti-Roman bias belongs to my heroine. I’m quite an admirer of ancient Romans, from whom we’ve inherited almost all our best and worst qualities. The Romans had gladiator games. They kept slaves. They were a colonial power who conquered the lands around them and stole their wealth. They practiced infanticide and had very creative ways of executing prisoners.
But the Romans also had a genius for organization and order; with the Romans came roads, water, concrete that hardened under water, magnificent architecture, and law. In fact, even though they are primarily known for the excesses of mad emperors–the Romans believed in, and often achieved, good governance. To someone like me, whose primary focus of study in school was Government, that’s reason enough to admire them.
They were not the ancient world equivalent of the Nazis. Many of the wars they fought, they were drawn into by virtue of being a super power, in an effort to restore peace. (Not that they didn’t take advantage of such situations, but then again, when has any super power not taken advantage of it?) And even though they went around conquering people, they really wanted to bring new cultures into the fold. Slaves could achieve their freedom and their children could be citizens with full rights. There was, in fact, an astonishing amount of social mobility.
In short, I love the Romans and I love writing about them. While some of the Roman characters in my novels seem irredeemable (like the emperor’s wife, Livia), I lavished a lot of loving attention on Octavia, Agrippa, Marcella, and the Antonias…people who Selene initially loathed, but came to love. I treat Virgil with affectionate kid gloves, and Julia–the emperor’s daughter–may have been my favorite character in the book next to Selene!
So, in short, I don’t hate the Romans. I just love looking at them through Selene’s eyes and I hope my readers will too!
I write books set in the early Roman empire, a time during which a lot of horrible things were accepted as commonplace. Slavery was a normal part of life. Social class was enshrined into law. Women were sexual chattel, often without a say in their own lives and without representation in government. Human beings were forced to battle to the death in an arena for the entertainment of others.
In spite of this, people in the early Roman empire weren’t all that different than we are. Their aims for their lives have remarkable resonance with our own. They wanted to honor their forefathers. They wanted greater security and prosperity for their children. They were patriots. They believed in some forms of social mobility. They built beautiful things that are still a wonder to our eyes. They created governmental and public programs that worked more smoothly in some cases than our own. In short, they tried to instill a sense of order into the chaos of the world around them. They survived and thrived and bequeathed to us a wealth of knowledge without which we would be much poorer as a civilization.
So how to handle their portrayal in a fictional novel? Does one make the Romans out to be fascist monsters? (Certainly, that’s how my heroine sees them at first.) Does one take a stance of moral relativism and present them without censure and perhaps with a glow of rosy admiration? (Colleen McCoullough seems to take this approach.) Does one use humor to deflect readers’ discomfort in reading about such a ruthless way of life? (John Maddox Roberts seems to have gone this route.)
Or does one simply trust the reader to know that a portrayal of history is not an endorsement of it?
Until recently, I’d have thought it was understood that just because an author writes about something horrible doesn’t mean he or she is encouraging it. We do all understand that horror and thriller writers aren’t advocating murdering people, right? But it seems as if historical fiction and fantasy writers aren’t always given the same benefit of the doubt.
I’ve seen a bizarre slew of criticism lately, ranging from one author being accused of bigotry for writing from the viewpoint of a character with a documented distaste for Jews to another author being panned for her ancient heroine being insufficiently appalled by the institution of slavery.
Now, I’m all about reading the subtext and thinking critically about what a book’s true message is. I understand that an author can inadvertently write a body of work, the underlying theme of which makes you question the author’s values. (The combination of Frank Miller’s Sin City and 300 comes to mind.)
That said, some genuine effort at giving a fair reading to the author’s motives ought to be made before announcing, say, that George R. R. Martin is creepy. (I know. Martin isn’t a historical fiction novelist, but his fantasy is loosely based on the historical War of the Roses, so the reaction to his work is still relevant here.)
So why do historical fiction writers choose to revisit the past when it was a nearly unrelenting march of injustice, sexism, racism, and just about every other bad -ism you can think of?
My own primary motivation in writing historical fiction is to use it as a mirror to hold up against contemporary society. I want my readers to look at the ancient world and compare it to the world in which we live today. I want my readers to realize how far we have come. I also want my readers to realize that the progress of women’s liberation is not a straight line. There have been setbacks in the ancient past and there will likely be setbacks in the future against which we ought to be wary. I want my readers to compare the political propaganda we hear in the news today to the kind that was spewed by Augustus.
This is my intent. And yet, I realize that sometimes my intent is not conveyed. This may be because I’m not talented enough. It may also be because every reader carries their own baggage. Every reader’s experience of my novel is going to be unique to them. They are going to tend to see in it things that conform to their own world view.
But if their world view is that writers never write about the depravity of history unless it’s out of a creepy sense of wish-fulfillment, then their world view is spectacularly ill-informed.
Oh, I’m sure there are Civil War writers who really wish that slavery had never been abolished. (Newt Gingrich comes to mind.) I’m sure there are horror writers who use the therapy of putting pen to paper to keep them from sacrificing babies to Satan. I’m sure of it because given a large enough population of people, you will always find some percentage of sociopaths and freaks. However, since it’s very clear that those people are a deviation from the norm, why don’t we just assume that writers of fiction have some other more benevolent reason for writing about evil?
(Also, isn’t it worse to air-brush over the horrors of the past as if the world was so much better back then?)
Some authors write historical fiction for the same reason I do. Others write it because they have an obsession with documenting little known facts. Still others wish to put a human face onto an obscure time period. So they write about all the awful things people did back then. They don’t generally write about it because they want their audience members to pine longingly for the day when kings ruled absolutely and could behead their wives.
I’ve heard it argued that some readers do romanticize that past and wish to return to the glory days when women, peasants and other minorities knew their place. This is horrifying, but the fact that lunatics and losers might read the wrong thing into a fictional novel has never been, to my mind, any real criticism against that novel.