I’m about to do something ill-advised. I’m about to pick a fight with a blogger. I don’t do this to be disagreeable. It’s just that I’ve decided not to shy away from my claim that Historical Fiction Doesn’t Have to be Good For You.
Hopefully, The Pen & Ink Blog will forgive me for using their comment as a springboard for discussion. The comment at issue extolled the virtues of historical writers like Mary Renault for “a fanatical desire to pack into every word accurate historical detail that makes the story real. In contrast, I feel the large majority of historical fiction is closer to the bodice-ripping romance novel which puts me to sleep. When a newcomer to historical fiction finds mostly the latter available in bookstores and libraries, is it any wonder that the whole genre suffers from a lack of interest?”
Now, first, I’d like to argue the point that historical fiction suffers from a lack of interest. It seems to be on the rise; it’s just that historical fiction suffers in comparison to teenaged vampire romances.
Second, I’d like to address Mary Renault and her ilk. I’m not sure that a fanatical desire to pack accurate historical detail into every word accounts for their success; certainly, in Mary Renault’s case, lush prose and an eye for the telling remark may have helped. But let’s concede this point for the sake of argument; after all, this is the commenter’s perception of what worked in these books. I think Mary Renault is brilliant, and as it happens, I applaud readers who know exactly the kind of fiction that pleases them best.
What I don’t like is contempt for fiction that doesn’t conform to one’s own literary fetish. It is all fine and well to acknowledge that the “bodice-ripping romance novel” is not your cup of tea–and may even bore the snot out of you. However, to then infer that the best-selling fiction genre in the history of the world has somehow contaminated historical fiction and lessened its commercial prospects strikes me as illogical.
To the contrary, I’d argue that the explosion of commercial works in the historical fiction genre has come mostly at the hands of female writers tackling issues of concern to women. Yes, we may all mock those headless heroines who grace historical fiction covers, but they serve as an important cue to readers–many of whom are looking to historical fiction to fill in the gaps of women’s history, a sorely neglected subject in schools today. Those same issues of concern to women are also tackled by historical romance novels.
So let us turn, then, to women in history. Much like the lives of women today, the lives of these women revolved around relationships. Relationships with their parents, with men, with children. Their primary value to society was often judged by the very bodice that is allegedly ripped. In short, matters of lust, love and family have always been denigrated throughout history as being women’s concerns, and therefore less legitimate for scholarly discussion than battles and coup attempts.
That this attitude still persists astonishes me, because any historian can name empires that have fallen for lust, battles won for love, dynasties forged through intensely personal relationships. It seems to me that romance isn’t trivial to history but central.
Certainly the era I write about–Augustan Age Rome–is the veritable poster child for soap-opera dramatics. Obsessions, divorces, remarriages, adulterous affairs, assassination plots, incest, and interpersonal intrigues aren’t merely the color behind the early Roman Empire–they are the backbone of the story. And I would argue it’s precisely these historical scandals that make the time period so interesting.
My historical novels aren’t romances and I have an obsession with historical accuracy that has sometimes prompted interventions from my husband and my agent. (My plan to ferment rotting shellfish in my backyard so as to reproduce Tyrian Purple Dye was met with round condemnation.) I spent more than three years researching my debut novel and by the time I’m done with the trilogy, I’ll have spent the better part of a decade amassing knowledge about a single thirty year period of Roman history.
But I never forget that I’m a novelist, not a biographer.
I’m generally of the opinion that if historical fiction ignores the romantic lives of its subjects, it renders an incomplete picture. It falls to the historical fiction writer to speculate about these human elements, because otherwise a biography would do just as well. Books that imagine the inner lives of historical figures in a way that stretches beyond the record does a public service. In fact, I’d argue that any historical novel that teaches a reader something new deserves respect. And that includes historical romance novels.
What do you think?
I think I love you. 🙂
Some great points here
I totally agree. Any kind of other fiction bashing annoys me and romance seems to get the worst of it. I write historical romances and paranormal historical romances that are as historically accurate as I can make them without boring the reader and losing the purpose of the book, which is to portray a couple falling in love within a particular set of historical parameters.
I like to read historical fiction for different reasons than I like to read romance but both have their value.
I don’t need the Happily Ever After ending of a romance novel when I’m reading historical fiction, but if I picked up a novel about a historical figure that didn’t delve into their love life–or at least imagine some reason for there not being one–I would feel as if the author hadn’t done his or her job.
Sometimes I am in the mood for pure biography–tell me just the facts, please. At the moment, I’m reading Stacy Schiff’s book about Cleopatra. But when I pick up a novel, I have a different mood and different expectations and I think most readers do!
Stephanie, where were you about two months ago when I needed to make this very point? I wouldn’t have been halfway as eloquent as you.
Lisa, I’m sure you’d have been more eloquent, but any time you need me, give me a yell 😉
I’m totally 100% with you. Well said, Stephanie. If historical fiction didn’t contain that essential human element, how would modern readers relate to its characters? It is for exactly this reason that historical fiction isn’t “popular” – because there are writers who think romance “contaminates” a historically accurate story. At a certain point, after all, I’d rather read a frickin’ textbook!
I’m a big believer in embracing a spectrum of different styles and celebrating them all. I wouldn’t sit around bashing the battle-glory historical fiction books even if I didn’t enjoy them. I want to foster respect for the whole genre.
Not much to add, other than to pose the question: How many of those “historically accurate, non-romance contaminated” novels actually depict blatant male fantasies? And they are SO romanticized, just as much if not more. The super-man historical figures, winning wars and outwitting enemies, geniuses of strategy and physical prowess. And if their weaknesses are brought to light, even more romanticism: the burdens of power and responsibility. Oh tortured soul! Not saying those male-fantasies are bad or feminine-focused histories are any better. 🙂 Historians have always been blatant storytellers. The good ones got their stories retold.
That’s a very good point, Jeannie. I try to keep an open mind and embrace all sorts of styles in the historical fiction genre. I enjoy the masculine stylings of Conn Iggulden, the quirky mysteries from John Maddox Roberts, and the sweeping doorstopper epic from Margaret George or Philippa Gregory. I’m dismayed by those who would like to narrow the genre rather than expand it.
I’m trying to imagine a great historical novel like Doctor Zhivago without the tragic lover’s triangle and I just can’t. Would Gone With The Wind be the same book without Rhett and Scarlett? Definitely not. There’s plenty of bodice ripping in both of those books too. What these books did, and all great historical fiction does is bring together the drama of human lives within the greater drama of historical events. If you leave the characters out and just focus on history … you might as well read a history textbook.
You’ve just named some of the most influential historical fiction of all time. Well played!
This is such a lovely post – and exactly what draws me to romance. I’m part of a ‘serious’ historical fiction writing group that formed after a class that I took a couple of years ago, and I finally nerved up to submit the first two chapters of the ‘bodice-ripper’ I’m writing – we’ll see what they think of it tonight. If some of them react as I suspect they might, I’ll use your post as backup!
And by the way, since I wouldn’t actually have to see (or smell) the dye, I do wish you would reproduce the purple dye for research purposes 🙂
I would say that in a world in which love and lust sometimes got people banished or beheaded, it’s a very serious topic 😛 What’s your subject matter?
As for the dye, in a very autocratic fashion, Mr. Dray has forbidden it.
You should write a sexy historical with an alpha hero who is intent on shutting down the heroine’s cloth-production cottage industry 🙂
I write Regency historicals – I just love all the societal rules and the challenge of finding ways for my characters to break them without being ostracized (or offending historical purists). LILY OF THE NILE is on my tbr list, though. I’m glad to see settings beyond the Regency (and topics other than vampires and dystopias) getting some attention.
I just want to say THANK YOU! I love historical fiction and I can’t imagine a story without there being love involved. It doesn’t have to end happily ever after, as real life often does not, and it doesn’t have to involve any garment being ripped either. But love is essential to what makes us human and is the driving force behind our ongoing struggle in this world. Why should anyone have to become defensive for enjoying a well told romantic story? Daphne du Maurier considered herself a romantic novelist and the literary world has been well served by her talent.
As to the assertion that historical fiction should only be concerned with 100% accuracy, to that I say ‘bullocks!’. Historical fiction is primarily fiction. History must be respected, agreed, but it is possible to have a historically accurate story and a moving story. Without the story, you have a history book.
You’re so welcome, Cryssa. There’s an article on this tension (sorta) in the recent issue of The Historical Novel Review in which they talk about the fact that the NYT has apparently stopped allowing historians to review historical fiction because they allegedly cannot appreciate a novel for the sake of a novel.
I would have been right out there fermenting shellfish with you, lol. In an historical novel I like for the details to be as accurate as possible, and so long as the setting is believable there’s license for playing around with the historicity of plot.
Here’s an example of how inaccurate historical details can ruin a novel for me. In two Egypt novels I’ve read in the past few years (one a romance novel, the other not) a male character was given an ancient Egyptian female name and vice versa. IMO this is just a lazy mistake. Even worse are the novels that just make up a faux ancient name. Books like that tell me the author didn’t do any serious research. It insults the reader.
I don’t think historical fiction needs to or even should be 100% accurate. It’s called fiction for a reason. But if an author decides to play loose with some of the facts, it’s nice if they acknowledge that in a postscript or author’s note. Actually, that makes me admire an author even more and makes me want to read other novels.