My stories, your stories, our stories – history’s
got them all covered.
History
is an irresistible source of inspiration for fiction writers and a compelling
theme for readers.
The
root of the word ‘history’ is Greek, and it means ‘knowledge obtained by
inquiry’. The knowledge gained by inquiry is essential when seeking to
establish what happened in the past.
Archaeologists and historians look for evidence and attempt to make best
guesses as to what that evidence might mean about life in the past.
But
the study of history is, like many areas of human activity, open to
interpretation. History is always going
to be filtered through human intellect, emotion and bias. While it’s scientifically possible to
ascertain dates, locations and even an order of events, it’s open to conjecture
as to the motivation, intention and effects of those events.
But
however unreliable, and however skewed it may be, most of us are interested in
history. We want to know where and who we come from. We want to know our local
and national lore. We want to hear about the positive deeds done by our
ancestors, and of injustices committed against them. Having done so, we draw
our own conclusions.
In
the December 2013 issue of Words with Jam,
the theme was memory. And I wrote there about the unreliability of memory, but
what was also clear was that this unreliability doesn’t affect the popularity
of memoirs, diaries and journals, both amongst writers and readers.
Subjectivity seems to be forgivable, even desirable.
And
it’s this subjective side of history that makes it an ideal aspect of human
life for writers to draw on. History’s got it all covered, the best and worst
of human nature, the best and worst of times. All storytelling is historical in
nature. It’s unavoidable. History fires the imagination. It opens the door to
reflection, to re-imagination and to
speculation.
History’s
stories began to be told in the ancient myths and legends and in the
oral-storytelling tradition. They’d tell about ancestors, cultures and beliefs
long gone. They’d tell of wars and sieges. They’d embroider and
re-interpret. They contained big themes
and mostly there’d be grains of truth contained in them in what they said about
human nature.
History’s
themes are humanity’s themes. There’s war and conquest, persecution, upheaval,
power and powerlessness, forced migration, romance, crime and adventure. Some
of the themes also lend themselves to children’s fiction and, of course, to
science fiction and fantasy. The themes are eternal. Fiction rooted in history
can be a way for both writers and readers to make sense of the human condition.
I’m
reading David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas
(Sceptre 2012) at the moment. Now there’s a historical novel that really
plays with the genre. Paradoxically, if anything, it secures its place as a
historical novel while also showing the
possibility of genre-plus and
genre-busting.
Its
originality, playfulness, intrigue and depth are wonderful. The story-telling
is marvellous. It’s entertaining and
it’s profound. There’s a ‘meaning of life’ feel to it. The author sets some of
the story in the future, but that in no way disqualifies the book as historical
in the widest sense. It does this by
taking the reader out of their own place in time and lets them view more of the
big, timeline picture. Mitchell gives us a glimpse of a possible future
history, as well as telling of a past. As a child I adored books that were set
in the past. Little Women (Louisa May
Alcott), What Katy Did (Susan Coolidge)
and Heidi (Johanna Spyri) all presented fascinating lives and sound role
models to this little girl of the 1960s. Later I was captivated by Treasure Island and Kidnapped (Robert Louis Stevenson). Then, as a young woman I was
into the Regency romances of Georgette
Heyer and the historical adventures contained in books such as The Crystal Cave by Mary Stewart.
Nowadays
I enjoy the romantic, historical fiction of our dear editor, Jane, and the
historical crime fiction of Sara Sheridan
(1950s Brighton Belle series) and Shirley
Mackay (medieval tales set in and around the University of St Andrews).
We
are all part of history – all part of a continuous and continuing timeline.
There are my-stories, his-stories, her-stories, your-stories, our-stories and
their stories to be told and read. There are stories of the past, of now and of
the future.
For
writers, history is a mine, a well and an eternal source.
Anne Stormont is a writer and teacher.
She can be a subversive old bat but maintains a kind heart. As well as writing
for this fine organ, she writes fiction for adults – mainly of the female-of-a-certain-age persuasion – and
for children. She blogs at http://annestormont.wordpress.com – where you can find out lots more about
her.
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