History
and The Novel:
A Manifesto

At first glance, the past may seem like a foreign country. But it is knowable, alive, and around us. In Julian Barnes' novel Flaubert's Parrot, the protagonist wonders about the subject: "How do we seize the past?" Then, he offers his solution. "We read, we learn, we ask, we remember, we are humble, and the casual detail shifts everything."

As a reader and reviewer, I've been transported to the past with novelists such as Julian Barnes or Arturo Perez Reverte. But I've also been pushed off the page and jolted back to reality, when authors lose their grip on the past.
Knight of Malta
Knight of Malta

So, how do we seize the Past?

When writing about the past, novelists are freer than historians. Because we share in the humanity of our ancestors and we have that greatest tool, our imagination, novelists can go beyond the historical record and, say, grab a John Doe, Wall Street stockbrocker, add or subtract a few character traits, and drop him in a jungle, transformed into a conquistador.

So, how do we seize the past? Where do we pick up history’s trails? A personal catalogue follows with links to great sites for writers. 

-Museums

When I travel, museums are obligatory stops, and that's all kinds of museums: historical, art, photography, food, military. Museums tells us how people lived, dressed, what weapons they used, and what they believed.

One example: Among the suits of armors above, find the one for a little prince. Our concepts of war and childhood don't apply to the past.
Another Example: This page cover photo, the knight of Malta. I found him in the Museum of the Santa Cruz in Toledo, Spain. There is so much to learn from this portrait: the knight's status in society, the fashion of the historical moment. It's a character waiting for someone to tell his story.
Thomas Jefferson Main Reading Room, Library of Congress

-Reference Guides

A while back, I attended a conference in Madrid entitled, "History and Literature: Crossroads." The conference was moderated by the historian Jordi Canal of the École des Haute Études in Paris. For days, eminent historians and novelists debated the borders, hybrid forms, and the commonalities between History and Literature.

Santiago Posteguillo, author of the Scipio trilogy, advised: "You can't write without having read the great references of the period." Well, you can't or you shouldn't because it shows. And, granted, it's hard. Sometimes first sources are ponderous bores. Plus, novelists must find a balance between their stories and their research. Another author, Juan Eslava Galán put it like this: "the scaffolding must be there but the reader mustn't see it."

Writers must read other historical fiction writers, starting with the people who lived in the historical era. When in doubt, ask a librarian.

-Landscapes

I once read a novel about medieval Arabia where the desert was barely mentioned. It was obvious that the author had never visited the country or even researched it. 

Do novelists have to travel to the setting of their books? Actually, I don't think so. Shakespeare is often quoted as a writer who set stories in distant lands without having traveled to them. Of course, we don't live in Shakespeare's times when few people roamed far from home.

In the 21st century, readers may not have visited Arabia but if they live in Arizona, they will be familiar with how sand flows on surfaces, for instance. Once again, novelists must do their research.

Travel guides are a great place to start.
junto-al-muro-elias-nir-shalom-1926.jpg

-Faith and Social Mores

Historians and novelists are creatures of their times. Nowhere is this clearer than in the areas of religion and social mores, where modern mainstream culture and sensibilities clash with past values.

What is the path of least resistance for novelists in historical fiction? To ignore faith and old social mores and endow characters with our ideas, to write against religious thought and its heros in the style of Hilary Mantel and her widely praised Wolf Hall trilogy. To do as Mantel did, turn history upside down and transform her protagonist, the machiavelian Cromwell into "the modern man," depicting his rival, Thomas More, a moral philosopher and a man who died for his convictions, as yet another petty, dogmatic villain. Exactly, the stereotype of a religious character these days.

The trend, called presentism, results in the multiplication of freethinkers across societies and eras. So, why write about Renaissance Europe? Or Mecca. Or ancient Athens. Why not abandon historical fiction altogether and write fantasy?
Master Abbot, Human Cultural Asset #48

-Arts and Crafts

Folklore and crafts are usually of no interest to historians, but they are invisible mooring cables to the departing ship of the past.

When I lived in South Korea, I visited the temple of Bongwon-sa. There, within temple grounds, lived Yi Manbong, Master Abbot of the T'aego sect, an authority in temple painting, a little man with tremendous eyebrows and knowing eyes that the South Korean designated as Human Cultural Asset #48, a national treasure.

Lucky me, I walked into his study, smelled his brushes and paint saucers, and the Jaseon dynasty of the Hermit Kingdom flashed before my eyes. The past was there, at the tip of my fingers.

-The Detail


I don't think the detail Barnes wrote about has to come from the past, but it has to connect the story with the present. It has to illuminate the fictional moment and make it understandable and relevant to a present-day reader.

The detail may be as simple as the smell of sesame seed sprinkled on a warm roll. The cadence of an old story. Or an unexpected sight, such as the presence of a Muslim judge on the main altar of a Spanish cathedral. What does the judge say about the cathedral builders?