I’m going to
a meeting of the London Chapter of the Historical Novel Society this weekend.
(If you’re interested in historical novels and you live near London, I
recommend it.) The topic for discussion is historical research.
This is a
subject dear to my heart. I’ve blogged about it once or twice before,
and Jenny Kane has chipped in with her own perspective as an archaeologist
turned novelist. So why am I struggling so hard to think of anything that I might say on
Saturday?
I think part
of the reason is that research is always, in the end, a matter of judgement
and, indeed, personal preference. There are some purists out there who seem uncomfortable
with any fiction at all in their historical fiction. An author who dares to
admit that sometimes they just make stuff up can infuriate this kind of
reader/writer. At the other extreme, there are authors who will cheerfully
ignore any historical details that get in the way of their stories which can
often seem hardly "historical" at all.
We all have
different amounts of knowledge and different ideas of what is important. I have
just been reading a discussion about historical inaccuracy in which one
contributor is furious about the misrepresentation of Finns during World War
II. She ridicules an author's ignorance and points out what she sees as
blatantly obvious errors. However, it turns out that she is a Finn herself. Her
irritation is perfectly genuine and justified, but it is unlikely that any of
the English readers that this story is clearly aimed at will be aware of many
(if any) of the mistakes. They are still mistakes, of course, and anyone who
relies on the story to inform them about the historical facts will end up feeling
foolish. But, in fairness, this isn't what the author was doing. Non-fiction
accounts of the Eastern Front are available. The novelist is using this as a
setting for a work of fiction. If the period detail is accurate enough to carry
along the reader, does it matter that it is not exactly right?
The problem
here is that what worries one reader will not necessarily worry another. Moving
away from historical fiction for a moment, I once read a thriller in which a
key element was that a computer memory stick that held a lot of data would be
larger than one which contained very little. This is an error so egregious that
it is difficult to understand how someone whose novels seem generally well
based in the 21st-century could possibly have made such a mistake. However, I
was able to overlook this and enjoy the book. My son, on the other hand, found
this impossible to ignore and considers this book one of the worst he has read
by that author. Returning to history, I recently read a book in which a
sharpshooter in a British Napoleonic regiment wore a green jacket. Because this
is something that I am writing about (in Burke
at Waterloo), I am all too aware that the green jackets were not awarded to
individuals within regular regiments but were worn by specialist rifle
regiments. This was one of several details in this novel that left me feeling
that the writer did not understand his period and that much of what he said had
to be viewed with considerable suspicion. When, in the same story, someone
threw fivepence (not five pennies) to a beggar, I decided he had pre-empted
decimalisation by a century and a half and I almost gave up reading. Others,
though, have praised the same book.
Personally,
I like history in my books to be accurate. But I'm not a professional historian
and, even if I were, I would not necessarily be writing about the period that
I'm an expert on. I was very conscious when writing Burke in the Land of Silver that, as an English writer, I was
likely to make mistakes with Argentinian history. In fact, Argentinian friends
who have read the book have been perfectly comfortable with my interpretation
of their history and I am delighted by that. I suspect, though, that they are
being generous and that there are errors that they are not pointing out to me.
Getting
caught out in straightforward mistakes is something that I think most
historical fiction authors do worry about. Fortunately I have an excellent
editor who is very good at catching this sort of thing. For example, I had
somebody using a Bowie knife in around 1807 which seemed perfectly
uncontroversial. She pointed out that the Bowie knife refers specifically to a
design by popularised by Jim Bowie who was not born until around 1796. That
kind of thing can always catch a writer out and having a second pair of eyes, especially
eyes that are familiar with the period, is really useful. Mistakes will still
creep in, though. When I was researching the story of James Brooke for The White Rajah, I rather overdid my
reading of contemporary source material and, as a result, I was able to pick up
small but real mistakes in one of the definitive biographies of his life. Given
that the biography was a detailed and well footnoted academic tome, I am sure
that the writer would have been embarrassed at the error, but to suggest that
anyone can write about historical figures in depth without having a single
mistake is, frankly, unrealistic. To insist that my novels (or anybody else's
historical fiction) have no mistakes is just silly. Apart from anything else,
if I checked every single “fact” in my stories, the stories themselves would
never get written. In Cawnpore there
is a reference to a regimental colonel. I searched for an online history of the
regiment; I looked through the (very long) list of the names of the dead at
Cawnpore; I read contemporary accounts; and I checked the definitive modern
account. Hours later I still didn't have the name. So you know what? I made one
up.
I'm a
novelist. I tell lies for a living. The best I can hope for is that the lies
aren't too obvious.
Excellent post. Enjoy Saturday (wish I was nearer London…)
ReplyDeleteGreat post. History is rewritten all the time - whether for fact or fiction and as professional liars novelists shouldn't worry too much about bending fact to serve story - IMHO at any rate.
ReplyDeleteWe probably all worry about what I always call "the guitarist at the back of the bar" (sneering at the band on stage), but at the end of the day it's writing to the story that matters. Of course, I say this having never SOLD a novel (nor even gotten agented yet), so grains of salt all 'round. But I have a good novel, even if it's not a good product. And there's always the WIP ...
ReplyDeleteI think the definition of a fact is quite interesting. It is quite clear from looking at them that a panda is a bear and that glass is a solid. Middle class intellectuals enjoy making themselves sound more intelligent than you by pointing out, in a sort of smug way, the “facts” that pandas are in actually members of the racoon family and glass is, technically, a super cooled liquid. The only problem is that pandas ARE bears (or at the very least DNA testing has shown they’re not racoons), and glass IS a solid.
ReplyDeleteA more relevant example would be the Union Jack, or should I say Union Flag, as everyone worth inviting to a dinner party knows that it’s only a jack when flown at sea? As it happens, the Lord Commissioners of the Admiralty issued an official notice in 1902 that they’d been calling it a jack for years and frankly couldn’t give a toss. However if you say jack in your novel, your smug middleclass intellectuals will scoff, and your lowly masses who have the impertinence to be right probably weren’t going to review your book at the Historical Novel Society anyway.
Jim Bowie is known, by the kind of people who like to think they know such things, as a frontier knife fighter who designed, carried and popularised the bowie knife. Unfortunately, whilst the Bowie family did make wide bladed flat knives they weren’t bowie knives. Most people credit a different man entirely, James Black, with the creation of the original bowie (albeit, made to Jim Bowie’s specification according to the lore). Whilst a simple google image search will show there’s no universal consensus on what a bowie knife looks like, it’s likely the most popular examples weren’t the one’s carried by Bowie. There’s even debate about whether he really was a knife fighter in the way he’s portrayed.
It’s true that the term bowie knife was coined in honour of him. So people weren’t calling wide flat knives bowies before the famous Sandbar fight of 1827. However, let’s face it, it’s not that unique of a design and Burke was probably using a wide bladed flat knife which people would now be happy to call a bowie.
The point is that it would appear to be simultaneously a “fact” that bowie knives existed before 1820, only after 1827, only after 1836 (The Alamo), and that there’s no such thing. Rather depends who you ask I suppose, but whichever one you go with, a significant chunk of your readership will say you're wrong.
Absolutely fabulous post and written with such simplicity andintelligence. Thanks, Tom. And I especially love the line 'I'm a novelist. I tell lies for a living. The best I can hope for is that the lies aren't too obvious.' Must share.
ReplyDeleteThank you.
ReplyDelete