Why I Love Writing Historical Fiction

It took me a while to get my act together to sit down and make a serious attempt at writing fiction, but I always knew there would be no wavering about the genre.

 I read many kinds of books – thrillers, cosy crimes, rom-coms, classics, non-fiction, biography, memoir … – but historical fiction has had a special place in my heart since the days when my grandmother and I used to sit side by side, inhaling the latest Philippa Gregory (along with copious amounts of wine and cheese).

 Admittedly, I’ve long preferred my historical novels to be set in France (quelle surprise!), and so from Tudor England I travelled literarily across the Channel (via The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society), going back to the Renaissance era with Alexandre Dumas, surely the ultimate author of swoony historical fiction. From there, I stopped by revolutionary France (Hilary Mantel’s A Place of Greater Safety), Napoleonic times (the Josephine Bonaparte trilogy by Sandra Gulland) and Paris of the Romantic era (Victor Hugo). On discovering Régine Deforges’ The Blue Bicycle series, I became obsessed with wartime France; favourites of that sub-genre have included Sarah’s Key by Tatiana de Rosnay and The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro.

 One of the things I most love about historical fiction is that, at its best, it resonates with modern times in a way that is subtle yet all the more powerful for that. Historical novelists can choose to make a political or philosophical point, couched in the fuzzy distance of the past. And perhaps that’s why there have been, of late, so many novels set in Europe of World War II. Many writers, during their research, see the parallels between the 1930s and now. I know that when I was researching pre-war Paris, I’d often get chills reading about the intolerance and populism that lead the way to war.

 Historical novelists love history, of course, and are forever indebted to historians and memoirists (read the Author’s Notes or Acknowledgments and you’ll appreciate how much so). So why choose fiction over non-fiction? Well, not everyone has the rigorous mind and training of an academic and the discipline to footnote everything. But also, there’s a playfulness to historical fiction that appeals to many writers. You don’t play with the big things, of course, but within the broad outlines of a time and setting, you can give your characters a certain freedom, have fun with the smaller details.

 Historical fiction is also a nifty portal into history. I don’t mean to suggest that history books are dry – many of my favourite non-fictions read like sweeping epics – but it’s true that many readers are looking for escape in our fraught times, and historical fiction certainly has that aspect to it. And anyway, it might just prove to be a stepping stone to further exploration. After reading historical fiction, I’ve often bought non-fiction books to learn more about a place or person. (And for historical writers, this research is more than satisfying in and of itself; it often offers up inspiration for future books.)

We all know that reading is important for empathy. It shows us different ways of thinking, of seeing the world. I wonder if the characters of historical fiction have an even more powerful impact. As a reader, you can’t help but remember that they once lived and breathed. They’re so much more than ink on paper and so there’s a certain weightiness to them. But also, a poignancy. They teach us that life is short and precious, to make it count.

 There’s another thing, I find, that’s special about creating or reading historical characters. They lived before the internet, before the franticness of modern life that is rewiring out attention and short-circuiting our thoughts. They inhabited a time when people had more, well, time. Time to think, to converse. They seem richer for it, their development deeper.

 Historical characters – or, their real-life alter egos – are, for me at least, so much more interesting. They lived before social media, so we don’t know their every waking thought (and breakfast). I’m personally fascinated by how people of various past eras lived – how they spoke (and their favourite catchphrases), what they ate (and the cutlery they used), how they dressed (and where they shopped for their clothes) …

 So much of history is a mystery, tinted in sepia. Historical fiction is about giving the past back its colour.