The notion of ‘The Historical Novel’ encompasses a very broad field, from the lightest historical romance, through weapon-laden, bloke-ish historical battle-fests, through stately home flowery historical flourishes, through be-whiskered historical detective crime, through clunking, information-heavy didactic dissertations on some historical period thinly veiled in story.
And now and then there will be a psychological literary time-set
masterpiece which is all novel, with history printed naturally through it with
Blackpool through rock. (See Pat Barker and Hilary Mantel)
 |
| On Amazon in Kindle and in Paperback |
Researching and writing historical novels induces the recognition
in the mind of the writer and the reader of universal issues that relate to any
and every age: love, hate, revenge, war, ambition, dominance and submission at
the personal and the political level, in addition to the socio-pathic moral
certainty of those who think they know best for those around them and the
world.
The universality of these themes means that we, in our modern
world, can enjoy a good novel with great characters set in any other time than
their own.
Occasionally I wonder about the nature of my own storytelling in
this mixed bag. Many of my novels, labelled ‘historical’, are set across the
period from the late 19th Century to the 1960s and 1970s. Some even creep into the 1990s to a period
which now seems very historical – of the past.
Now I have moved further back in history. In researching and writing my latest novel The
Pathfinder – which is based in and around the crumbling of the Roman Empire in
Britain and Europe – I kept thinking how similar were the attitudes and
understandings of the occupiers (scions of the Roman Empire) to the Germans in
WW2 in their occupation of Europe, with their aim of the Thousand-Year Reich,
modelled on the Roman Empire. The German ambition came to an end very soon. But
it was similar to the Romans with its principles of control, exploitation,
domination and imposition of German values on what they saw as inferior
peoples.
The Roman occupation of Britain pre-echoed these principles. The
Roman writer Tacitus wrote. "On the beach stood the adverse array, a
serried mass of arms and men, with women flitting between the ranks. In the
style of Furies, in robes of deathly black and with dishevelled hair, they
brandished their torches; while a circle of Druids, lifting their hands to
heaven and showering imprecations, struck the troops with such an awe at the
extraordinary spectacle that, as though their limbs were paralysed, they
exposed their bodies to wounds without an attempt at movement. Then, reassured
by their general, and inciting each other never to flinch before a band of
females and fanatics, they charged behind the standards, cut down all who met
them, and enveloped the enemy in his own flames.’
This account is echoed in Celtic myth in stories of the
destruction of thousands of the priestly caste now called the Druids, driving
them into the sea at Anglesey in their thousands. Tacitus’s account documents
the superstitious fear the Romans had of the indigenous British with their
strong organic religious identity led by religious elite with deep historical
and natural scientific acumen which informed all aspects of life in Britain.
This elite sect had sustained its power through generations with an education system for it gifted young men and woman that ensured that its values and attitudes survived through time. In this way boys and girls were bred and educated for leadership. So the occupiers’ decision to destroy this leading population had its own logic.
This elite sect had sustained its power through generations with an education system for it gifted young men and woman that ensured that its values and attitudes survived through time. In this way boys and girls were bred and educated for leadership. So the occupiers’ decision to destroy this leading population had its own logic.
I was reminded again of researching my novel Long Journey Home
where I found accounts of the occupying Japanese drove thousands of Chinese
(the clever leading elite of Singapore) off Changi beach.
In The Pathfinder I have avoided referring to the priestly Brirish
caste as Druids. For me this term has too many associations with the 19th
century romanticisation of all things Celtic. A worryingly artificial
construct.
In my novel I refer to my heroine Elen, her song-smith brother
Lleu and their father Eddu as Seers. Similarly, as Elen like her father is an
hereditary pathfinder in the ancient British trading tradition, I researched
the long straight paths of pre-Roman Britain. In doing so I came across the
extensive literature about Ley Lines. Again, sticking to my intention to stay
within the 384 AD mindset, I have avoided using this term.
Writers of the best historical novels use historical research to
feel their way into what it truly was to live in a particular time in a
particular place. What emerges from their storytelling is first, that readers
may enjoy and relish a well-told, sometimes quite complex, story; second, that
the readers may access universal truths that hold true in any time zone and
might apply to their own lives.
I hope, in my own modest way that I am one of these.
