Category Archives: Historical Fiction
By Deborah Noyes
One of the three story strands in Captivity is set in the old menagerie in the Tower of London — where young Clara Gill, a zoological artist, meets the beast keeper Will Cross — on the eve of the zoo’s demise.
Like many royal menageries, the one in the Tower began as a private collection, a display of power and wealth. It evolved over 600 years and at various times displayed a rhinoceros, a giraffe, zebras, kangaroos, llamas, ostriches, alligators, and a hardy spaniel that one of the Tower lions adopted as a pet. During the realm of Henry III, a polar bear swam from a leash each day, fishing for its supper in the Thames.
By the eighteenth century, the menagerie was open to the public. To get in, you paid three half-pence, or you parted with a dog or a cat (i.e., lion food).
John Wesley, co-founder of the Methodist Church, once brought a flutist in to play for the lions. Do animals respond to music, he wondered; do they have souls? William Blake also visited the Tower menagerie to paint one of two resident tigers, which may have inspired his poem, “Tyger, Tyger.”
In England, animals had been displayed at carnivals and fairs since medieval times. Exhibits were often pits or boxes with metal bars, and by the nineteenth century — an age of imperial conquest when nature and the wild, like faraway nations, were there to be subdued —conditions had hardly improved.
After a beloved Indian elephant named Chunee was brutally killed during a bout of musth in London’s crowded Exeter Change menagerie, news stories, poems, plays, and engravings about the giant’s grim death (and life) finally got a newly scientific public talking about animal welfare.
By 1835, the year Clara and Will meet in the menagerie, the animals of the Tower were already being relocated to the new Zoological Society of London’s scientifically enlightened enterprise in Regent’s Park.
Deborah Noyes, author of Captivity
, writes for adults and children, and is also an editor and photographer. She earned a B.A. in English from the University of Massachusetts and an MFA in Writing from Vermont College. She has taught writing and literature at Emerson College and Western New England College, and was a Visiting Writer in Lesley University’s MFA in Writing for Young People program. To Read more about the author and the book, please click here.
IMAGE: The Menagerie at the Tower of London, circa 1820.
Congratulations to the following W & M winners of this book:
Linda, Recca, and librarypat
By Harvey Sachs
A historical oddity was one of the reasons why I wanted to write a book on Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony and the year 1824 – the year in which this masterpiece was completed and premiered. This was the first symphony to include singing, and the words that the composer drew from, Friedrich von Schiller’s “Ode to Joy” are, among other things, a proclamation of universal brotherhood.
But Beethoven wrote the Ninth in Vienna, the same city in which Austria’s foreign minister, Prince Klemens von Metternich, was perfecting the first modern police state at the very same time. The Enlightenment, French Revolution, and Napoleonic wars had all come and gone; the old dynastic rulers – Romanovs, Hapsburgs, Bourbons, and others – had either held onto their shaky thrones or had been reseated on thrones they had lost, and they were determined to shore up and enforce, at any cost, the time-worn concept of Divine Right.
Beethoven’s negative views on absolute rulers were well known. He had even written to his patron and pupil Archduke Rudolph, brother of the Austrian emperor, that “benefactors of humanity have not been found… in the present world of monarchs.”
But he was considered too famous and too eccentric to be turned over to the regime for the sort of treatment – a long jail sentence or banishment – reserved for run-of-the-mill offenders. The Ninth Symphony was performed and acclaimed, and its message was ignored. Beethoven would be pleased to know that his creation is still performed and acclaimed today, and he would not be surprised to learn that its message is still ignored.
IMAGE: Facsimile from the author’s own collection
Harvey Sachs, author of The Ninth: Beethoven and the World in 1824
(released today, Random House), is also a music historian and the author or co-author of eight previous books, of which there have been more than fifty editions in fifteen languages. He has written for The New Yorker and many other publications, has been a Guggenheim Fellow and a Fellow of the New York Public Library’s Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers, and is currently on the faculty of the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. He lives in New York City.
By Arliss Ryan
Virtually nothing is known about Anne Hathaway, the wife of William Shakespeare, yet plenty of unkind words have been written about her. Shakespeare scholars in particular have not hesitated to portray her as a coarse, illiterate, country wench who seduced an innocent boy and made him miserable thereafter.
With my blood boiling, I set out to prove otherwise, and so began The Secret Confessions of Anne Shakespeare
. On one hand, since we don’t have even a portrait of Anne, I could give my imagination free rein. I proceeded to make her not only a smart, funny, sensual woman but the true author of the most famous plays.
But I also wanted my story to be both historically accurate and plausible, and since some experts protest that even a man from Stratford could not have written the plays, therein lay the challenge. For example, How could Anne have learned to read and write when girls were barred from the grammar schools? Aha, she might have gone to a “petty school” for children aged 5-7, which both girls and boys could attend.
How could she have become adept at playwriting when women were excluded even from acting? Why, she was tutored by her budding playwright husband when she joined him in London and learned still more from her literary lovers, the utterly delicious Christopher Marlowe and the troublesome Ben Jonson.
At every step I had to weave together major historical events like the Spanish Armada and the complicated literary history of the composition of the plays. But gifted with natural intelligence and a vivid imagination and trained in the rough-and-tumble world of Elizabethan theater, why couldn’t a woman have done it?
Why couldn’t Anne?
Arliss Ryan is the author of The Secret Confessions of Anne Shakespeare (NAL, June 2010) and two previous novels. A native of Michigan, she now lives in Florida with her husband. To learn more about the author and her books, please visit her website by clicking here.
IMAGE: The graves of Anne (left) and William (right) Shakespeare, Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon
Congratulations to the following W & M winners of this book:
Kelcie, Cheryl and Sherri
By Melissa L.
If someone asked you to define “historical fiction,” you would probably say that it’s fiction set sometime in the past. And if you gave that answer, you would be fundamentally correct. But historical fiction isn’t just historical fiction anymore. More and more, it’s being crossed with other genres to produce books that toe the line between historical and something else.
Historical romances. Historical mysteries. Historical fantasy. These are all examples of the types of books I like to call “historical hybrids”: books that can be called historical fiction, since they do have a historical setting, but are also strongly tied to another genre. In the YA market, these books often seem to sell better than straight historical fiction because they can appeal to a wider audience. Many teens, who otherwise find history boring, will pick up a book that’s fundamentally a romance.
The question with such books, though, is the extent to which they can actually be called historical fiction. For example, many historical fantasy novels are meticulously researched, and their authors certainly deserve credit for including as much historical accuracy as possible—but they’re still fantasy. Part of the point of historical fiction is that the events described in it could have happened, and we all know that people didn’t really work magic in historical times. Is there any way you can ascribe the label “historical fiction” to such a novel? Or is it solely fantasy?
Discussion:
What do you think about the so-called historical hybrids? Can you call them historical fiction, or do they really belong more to their other genres?
Melissa L. is the YA Editorial Assistant for Wonders and Marvels. You can read more about her here: Editorial Staff.
By Katherine Howe
Every year thousands of visitors throng into Salem, Massachusetts, appetites whetted for witches. And witches there are, for in Salem we are experts in witchery: witch hats, witch t-shirts, witch plays, even some real witches thrown in for good measure. Sometimes visitors are puzzled, however, that there aren’t more places to see that are tied to the actual Salem witch trials of 1692. The Witch House, was the home of a real Salem witch judge, and is maintained as a historic house today. But other than that, we find few elements of historical witchery remaining in what is essentially a nineteenth century city. Where did it go?
Salem Town was first founded in the 1620s (its name comes from Salaam, or Shalom, meaning “peace”), and very quickly became one of the busiest and most important seaports in early colonial New England. So busy, in fact, that the rocky sea coast could not produce enough food to support the growing population. As a result, in 1636 an outlying farm region was established, to supply grain and goods for the port town. Initially the region was called Salem Farms, though quickly that name changed to Salem Village.
As we know, it was in Salem Village that the witch crisis first broke out. Salem Village held the meeting house where the most dramatic accusations took place. Salem Village was the home of Rebecca Nurse, Samuel Parris, and the people we remember from the The Crucible. Salem Village had a distinct personality that separated it from Salem Town, and some historians think that these clashing cultures contributed to the panic. Salem Village tried early on to pull away from Salem Town, but was not successful until 1757, when its name was changed to Danvers.
Today, in Danvers, a memorial stands on the ground that once held the Salem Village meeting house, and Rebecca Nurse’s house is maintained as a historic property open in the summertime. True hunters after historical witchery know to look in modern Salem, and also its shadowy neighbor, the secret Salem Village, Danvers.
Katherine Howe is the author of the New York Times bestseller The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane
. She is completing a PhD in American and New England Studies at Boston University, and this August (2010), Signet Classics is publishing a new edition of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables with a new introduction written by Katherine. Read more about the book here.
IMAGE: The Witch House, home of Judge Jonathan Corwin, is the only structure still standing in Salem with direct ties to the Witchcraft Trials of 1692.
Congratulations to the following W & M winners of this book:
Kimberly and Melanie
By Catherine Hall
My protagonist Nora is twelve years old when she’s evacuated from London to rural Kent. World War II is about to break out, and Britain’s government is urging parents to send their children to the safety of the countryside.
Operation Pied Piper began on 1st September 1939. In the next four days, two million children, some aged just 2 or 3, left major cities by train. Luggage labels tied around their necks gave their names – all they carried were their gas masks, a change of clothes and a stamped addressed envelope to send to their parents to tell them where they’d ended up.
When they arrived they were chosen by host families – ‘I’ll take that one!’ – and taken to live with them. Some would be away from home for nearly six years.
The impact of evacuation was enormous, both on the evacuees and on their host families, not to mention the parents who were left behind. Many hosts weren’t prepared for living with children from very different, often very poor backgrounds and most evacuees had never left the city.
Some evacuees came to see the war as the best years of their lives, loving the freedom of the countryside. Others suffered terrible homesickness, feelings of abandonment and, sadly, mental or physical abuse from their hosts. Some of them found it impossible to get over the trauma of separation from their parents, never again managing to form close relationships. Their lives had been saved, but the psychological damage was enormous.
Catherine Hall was born in the Lake District in 1973. Now based in London, she worked in documentary film production before becoming a freelance writer and editor for a range of organizations specializing in human rights and development. Days of Grace
is her first novel.
IMAGE: Young WW II evacuees, courtesy of the Viking Adult and the Imperial War Museum
Congratulations to the W & M winners of this book:
Serena, Urbano, and Patty
By Melissa L.
If you write historical fiction, the chances are excellent that you also like to read it. I’m sure many of you will agree that losing yourself in a nice thick historical novel is a fantastic way to spend a day. But reading historical fiction can serve another purpose besides entertainment. In fact, you might even be able to consider it a form of research.
The next time you read a historical novel, ponder these two important questions: What do you love, love, love about this book? What do you hate? You can highlight passages you feel strongly about, make notes to yourself in the margins, or just think about the answers. Doing this can help you to figure out what to do – or not do – when writing your own novel.
If you’re frustrated with the way an author uses dialogue to create an “info dump” of historical facts, your readers are probably not going to appreciate it if you do the same thing. On the other hand, if you love the way an author uses specific details to create a believable setting, it’s time to see where you can add a little more detail in your own work.
Discussion:
What books do you really love (or hate)? What have you learned from them to be used in your own writing?
Melissa L. is the YA Editorial Assistant for Wonders and Marvels. You can read more about her here: Editorial Staff.
By Allison Winn Scotch
When people hear the premise of my new book, The One That I Want, in which my protagonist is given the unwelcome ability to see into the future, the first thing that I’m usually asked is, “Would you want this ability yourself?” And it’s a question that I’ve given a lot of thought to. My first inclination was “of course,” and then, with further consideration, I realized what a slippery slope this might be. What if I saw something that I didn’t like, something in which my family was harmed, something like 9/11 when the world imploded? What then? What would I do with that knowledge other than spend the rest of my days frantically wondering what, if anything, could be changed.
It leads to the bigger question though: how would our world – and history – be altered if people knew what was going to happen? Sure, of course, we’d jump at the chance to undo terrorist atrocities and plane crashes and personal tragedies of friends and family who were diagnosed with incurable diseases two months too late…but then what? There would be a ripple effect: if something hadn’t happened, everything else would shift too. Some people would argue that their lives would be better off, but surely some would argue that you don’t mess with fate and that what has happened has happened.
It’s an interesting – and difficult – concept to grasp. I’d be hard-pressed to say that if given the option, despite not really wanting to see into the future, that I wouldn’t accept the responsibility – and thus change history – if I knew that I could prevent atrocities such as 9/11. I mean, who wouldn’t say that? Who wouldn’t want to salvage those lives lost and in doing so, not only change the future for their families and loved ones, but also shift the future of our nation? Before 9/11, none of us walked around with the thought that we were vulnerable, that – as I frequently wonder when I see a plane overhead downtown Manhattan – if we’re still vulnerable. If I could eradicate that fear, wouldn’t I, shouldn’t I? But then what?
Allison Winn Scotch is the New York Times bestselling author of The One That I Want
, Time of My Life and The Department of Lost and Found. She lives in New York with her husband, and their son, daughter and dog. To read more about the author and the book (which released today, Shaye Areheart Books), please click here.
IMAGE: Former Twin Towers – New York, New York
Congratulations to the following winners of this book!
Meg, Angie, Kelcie, Christine, and Jessica!
By Melissa L.
One of the first books about writing historical fiction that I ever read described setting as “another character in a historical fiction novel.” I can’t completely agree with this analogy—in my opinion, “character” should really refer to a person—but it made me think about the huge role that setting plays in historical fiction.
As I’ve discussed several times before, historical fiction should, above all else, tell a compelling story. But the point of historical fiction is that the story grows out of the time and place. You may choose to use specific historical events as the basis for your plots and characters, or you may simply write a book that’s set in a given point in history, but either way, there should be a clear reason for the book to be set when and where it is. Otherwise, I would argue that you aren’t really writing historical fiction—you’re writing a middle grade or young adult novel that just so happens to be set in the past. (And honestly, if a historical setting isn’t a vital part of your story, is there any reason not to set it in the modern day?)
In most cases, a setting doesn’t drive your plot in quite the same way that your characters do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t every bit as vital as strong characters. A strong setting gives historical fiction a strong base—a base that distinguishes it from other kinds of books.
Discussion:
How important is setting in historical fiction? Can it accurately be called “another character”?
Melissa L. is the YA Editorial Assistant for Wonders and Marvels. You can read more about her here: Editorial Staff.
By Melissa L.
Like nearly everything else in life, it seems that writing historical fiction comes with its own set of rules. While browsing the Internet, I discovered an article entitled “Seven Rules for Writing Historical Fiction,” by Elizabeth Crook, the author of three historical novels. Crook’s article is intended for authors of historical fiction in general, but I found some of her rules especially applicable to writing for children.
At first glance, Crook’s first two rules—“Sweat the Small Stuff” and “Cut the Ballast”—seem to contradict one another. In reality, though, both are vital to a good novel for young readers. As a historical fiction author, you need to know virtually everything about your time period in order to write accurately; after all, you don’t want to give your readers a false impression of history. At the same time, though, all of the details you learn don’t have to make their way into your book. Kids have notoriously short attention spans, and if you bog them down with information they don’t want or need to know, they’re likely to put the book down.
The idea of including only necessary details echoes in Crook’s sixth rule, “Don’t Get Bogged Down by Back-story.” You need to know the entire back-story, of course, but your readers only need it to a certain extent. Kids in particular like their books to open at a fast pace. If you devote your first chapter entirely to the back-story, you’ll quickly bore and lose your readers.
What do you think about Crook’s set of rules? Are there any other rules you would say are important in historical fiction for kids?
Melissa L. is the YA Editorial Assistant for Wonders and Marvels. You can read more about her here: Editorial Staff.
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