Reading and Writing Historical
Fiction
by Sue Peabody
"This paper is a tentative exploration into the genre that spans the liminal
territory between fiction and non-fiction, the historical novel. For the
purposes of library classification, the historical novel is shelved with other
fiction. But its placement is ambiguous. Many commentators observe that the
general public is more likely to learn about the past from historical fiction
than from "straight" history (e.g., Tebbel;
Aiken). Some writers...will go so far as to say that their fiction is
'fact.'
Finally, recent techniques of literary criticism have made some readers,
beginning with Roland Barthes and Hayden White, question the boundaries that
separate history from fiction. History's status as an independent genre seems to
be threatened by modern notions of relativism. Historical fiction, with its
ambiguous relationships to both history and fiction, might be a good starting
place for an analysis of the claims of both kinds of writing."
Peabody limits her analysis of the "creation
and reception of the contemporary historical novel" "to what might be
called 'high brow' historical fiction of the 1980s. By 'high
brow,' I mean historical fiction written for a predominantly college
educated readership." Peabody studied statements of readers and
writers of historical fiction, especially their "discussions of the
differences between history and fiction," and
identifies " three overlapping areas of concern. [1] One of these is the
contrast between what might be called the historian's efforts to illuminate and
the novelist's proclivity to conceal. [2] Another issue is the supposed ability of
the successful historical novel to 'make the past come alive.' [3]
Finally, there is the relationship between these issues and the question of
narrative point of view."
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| Issue #1: "illumination
versus concealment"
--Historians' goal is find out the
"truth" about the past, "to shed light on the past
'as it really was,'" however much
historians may disagree "with one another about what
actually happened, and why things happened that way...." "A
historical account does not attempt to hide things from its
readers. The notion of suspense does not enter into
the reading or writing of an historical work." Writers and
readers expect history to explain and teach the past--historians
typically "tell" rather than "show," although an
historican must often "argue" for her/his particular
interpretation of the past, amid competing interpretations.
--Historical fiction such
as Toni Morrison's Beloved, however, "create[s]
an atmosphere of suspense that compels the
reader to follow the narrative to the conclusion, where a secret is revealed."
"The
secret in Beloved concerns the title character and her relationship to
the other characters in the book. The convention of secrets is so strong in this
book that two reviewers...refused to give a
complete description of the plot so that they would not spoil it for their
readers." Nor is historical fiction, unlike history,
"constrained to cite its sources
with footnotes in the text. Thus the reader experiences the pleasure of
discovery..."--for example, when she can identify where the novel's
historical information comes from. Thus, in these and other
ways, "the writer of historical fiction may hide things
from the reader, whose pleasure is partly derived from discovering them for
himself. This discovery makes the reader feel intelligent, 'in the
know.'" "Fiction writers operate under the dictum,
'show, don't tell.'
The
need to explain an event in the story is seen as a failure of the novelist's
art." Modern fiction writers [and filmmakers] are expected to
"show" and dramatize, rather than "tell" and
explain (e.g. via a narrator in literature or voice over narration
in film). Peabody later addresses point of view more fully
[see Issue #3 below.]
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| Issue #2: "make
the past come alive"
--Historical Fiction's
aim and pleaure is "to make the past 'live again'....To take
all these dead facts--the kings and
battles and details of shipping cargoes -- and to put people into them;
wind their springs and let them walk around" (Beth
Nachison cited in Peabody).
One of the evaluation criteria that readers and reviewers expect
historical fiction to meet is to "provide accurate, convincing portraits of the people of the
past"--to "make the past come alive." "What is this quality of
'bringing to life' and how does the historical novel do it?" Peabody
asks.
Metaphor is one answer provided by Aristotle
in the Rhetoric. Metaphor has the
"capacity to render a scene 'before our eyes'" and make us
"'see things'"--"By 'making them see
things' I mean using expressions that represent things in a state of
activity," Aristotle explains, and thus "to give
'metaphorical life to lifeless things" (Rhetoric 1410:10-13; 1411:24-26;
qtd. in Peabody).
The master of metaphor, her genius, can evoke "'intuitive
perception of the similarity in dissimilars' [i.e. the past and
the present] (Aristotle, Poetics
1459: 5-8; qtd. in Peabody). Thus, the key "function of the metaphor, Aristotle says, is to help
get across new ideas to one's listeners...." "Metaphor, suggests Aristotle, is an effective way to make the strange
familiar, to help us learn new ideas easily. There is a striking similarity
between Aristotle's discussion of metaphor and readers' and writers'
expectations of the historical novel." Historical Fiction writers
try "to give a convincing
portrait of the people, ideas, and circumstances of living in the past." And
many readers [and viewers] seek out historical fiction because they
want "to learn something about the past." Peabody
believes that historical fiction "acts, in some ways, as a
metaphor for the past. Through
the novel, the past is portrayed as a visual scene, a drama, which the reader
can understand. The past is animated in a way that conventional history is
(apparently) unable to do."
--Historians,
however, are expected to meet standards such as objectivity,
authenticity, and verifiability--e.g. "For each detail,
perhaps no more than a single source can be found, and to depend on that one
source is to violate the historiographical requirement of two or more
independent witnesses" (Richard N. Current,
qtd. in Peabody). Such requirements can produce "the
dry-as-dust quality that the work of academic historians is presumed
to have" (Current qtd. in
Peabody). Historians cannot emulate historical fiction writers
[and filmmakers] in privileging literary and dramatic
"effectiveness" because this goal "has the potential
to undermine objectivity or authenticity; the novelist presents
scenes in 'lifelike detail'; the historian operates under a
constraining requirement of confirmation of
sources...."
So "two important differences between history and
fiction" reside in their "use of 'historical detail' and
the question of point of view."
Historical Details: In historical fiction, authentic
historical details create "a sense of background
'texture'" to "inform the plots, and themes, and
characters'" (Hewitt
qtd. in Peabody); not to create this historical
"texture" through the use of the right/authentic details
is "to threaten the believability" and the
"atmosphere of authenticity" necessary to historical
fiction.
Theme: "One of the ways that historical fiction connects the present to the past is
through theme." But historical fiction such as Beloved
(by Morrison) and The Name of the Rose
(by Eco) has been criticized when the prevalent themes are
those of the authors' present, rather than those of the represented
historical past: for example, Beloved's present-oriented
themes "'black women facing the harsh world alone....the
obligatory moment of transcendent female solidarity....[and] sexual
exploitation...'" (Crouch 42, qtd.
in Peabody). However, Peabody also explores John
Vernon's notion that another way to make experience "come
alive" in fiction is "not by rendering it familiar, but by
making it strange....'to review our acquaintance with experience by
de-domesticating it, by making it strange again'" (Letter
qtd. in Peabody). That is, "fiction should render
not only the past strange but the reader's present as well" --aspects
of the present that contemporary readers take for granted.
This strategy offers historical fiction another
"metaphorical" way to connect past and present: "to render the past familiar and to make the present seem
strange."
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Issue #3: "Perhaps point of view is the most important difference between history and
historical fiction."
--Historical Fiction:
"In historical fiction, the writer may tell the story from the
point
of view of real or imaginary characters, thus appealing to the reader's
imagination. When this is done well, the past appears to 'live' and
the present is made strange. Historical novels function structurally as a
metaphor, joining the past with the present, and the reader with the author,
emphasizing their mutual similarities and differences."
Fiction and historical fiction can be "written from
the point of view of one or more characters within the story.
The convention of telling a story from a point of view other than
the author's is not new or surprising in fiction."
Indeed,the ideal narrative in modern fiction is a narrative that
"erase[s] the sense of an author entirely" (Hewitt
qtd. in Peabody)--especially of an authorial narrative voice
that explains too explicitly or at all "what the author
is trying to say"--"there are no explanations, there is
only exactly what you see in the story." In other words,
we expect "the great works" of literature [and film] to
"show," not "tell" (see Issue
#2 above).
"In academic historical writing, however, this convention is
unheard of. Indeed, if one were to try to write a work of
history from a point of view that differed substantially from the
author's, it would no longer be called 'history,' but fiction."
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--History: The
"authorial voice of a historical text," its "relative
uniformity of syntax and style," serves "different purposes
than fictive narrative voices."
"A [historical] fiction writer
has more freedom: she can choose to tell the story through an
omniscient third-person narrator (similar to the historian's), through
a single character from the story, or through several
characters...."
But point of view in conventional academic
historiography is governed by restrictive discipline-specific
rhetorical conventions: "For
example, it must appear impartial and objective (avoiding frequent use
of the first person)."
"A work of history must be written from a point of view that
represents the actual author's. The author's voice tells the reader what
happened and why it happened. Without this association between the actual
historian and the narrative perspective of the text, the historian could not be
held responsible for her argument. Her argument constitutes her identity as a
historian in the academic community. Without it, she ceases to exist for the
discipline."
This restricted choice of point of view in "professional
history," required by "its disciplinary conventions and
rhetorical structures," also explains why it lacks "the
vividness and immediacy that we find in the best historical
fiction."
[Partial] WORKS CITED [in
this excerpt]:
Aiken, Joan. "Interpreting the Past: Reflections of an Historical
Novelist." Encounter 64 (May 1985): 37-43.
Aristotle. Poetics. Trans. Ingram Bywater. The Rhetoric and the
Poetics of Aristotle. New York: Modern Library, 1984.
Aristotle. Rhetoric.
Trans. W. Rhys Roberts. The Rhetoric and the Poetics
of Aristotle. New York: Modern Library, 1984.
Crouch, Stanley. Rev. of Beloved, by Toni Morrison. The New
Republic 197 (19 Oct. 1987): 42.
Current, Richard N. "Fiction as History: A Review Essay." Journal
of Southern History 52 (1986); 77-90.
Eco, Umberto. The Name of the Rose. Trans. William Weaver. New York:
Harcourt, 1983.
Hewitt, Scott. February, 1902. Unpublished.
Hewitt, Scott. Personal interview. 20 March 1988.
Morrison, Toni. Beloved. New York: Knopf, 1987.
Nachison, Beth. Personal interview. 22 March 1988.
Tebbel, John. Fact and Fiction: Problems of the Historical Novelist. Lansing:
Historical Society of Michigan, 1962.
Vernon, John. La Salle. New York: Viking, 1986.
Vernon, John. Letter to the author. 18 March 1988.
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