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the value of fiction

Posted on August 11, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I want to share with you something that I wrote, oh, in 2007 or thereabouts. (I am resisting the urge to edit myself. It is a strong urge.) And then I think I will respond to myself. And hopefully you will share your thoughts, too.

My best friend is self-educated, and claims that he reads only non-fiction because he sees no value in studying fiction. He thinks that fiction’s purpose is entertainment, and he wants to learn new facts and better understandings of the world, and thus needs to read non-fiction. I like to counter with, for example, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. This book is fiction, but I think it’s pretty clear that its purpose is to teach and educate and hopefully to change minds about one of the most important issues of the last century.

One of my favorite books is Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls. This book is fiction, but closely based on the author’s experiences. It served an important purpose: it taught readers that the Spanish Civil War, and by extension war in general, is not one-sided and has no “right” side to it; once violence has begun, innocents on both sides will suffer and everyone finishes with blood on their hands. (I hope Hemingway will forgive me for brutally simplifying this masterly work for my purposes here.)

Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle is another great example of fiction that performed important social functions. Although Sinclair’s concerns began by centering on social issues, food safety turned out to be an enormous beneficiary of his work, as public response was enormous. Historical perspective on this book in its time helps us to understand its significance; however, just reading the novel without context would give a person new respect for the purposes of fiction.

The question of whether Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn should be taught in high schools strikes me as a parallel to my friend’s complaint about fiction. It is clear to me that this work should be taught to high school students because, while it is fiction, it brings to light some extraordinarily important and very real questions. For example, Huck’s relationship with Jim and the development of their friendship addresses the humanity of slaves and the moral rectitude of this American institution. The racial slurs need to be read by high school students – with the right guidance – to teach beyond the idea that they are wrong, to why they are wrong.

Thus, the question of whether to teach Huck Finn is the same as the larger question, why read fiction? (For that matter, if it’s not worth reading, why write it?) I find the study of literature (fiction and otherwise) to be pleasurable as well as important, so I take it upon myself to argue on its behalf. My assertion is that just because a story is not true, does not mean it can’t hold massive significance on wildly important issues. For that matter, if fiction were truly and solely for entertainment as my brother asserts, one could argue that there is value in this purpose as well. Humans need entertainment to draw their minds off of the problems of our world; to blow off steam; to relax and/or exercise our minds. If fiction served no higher purpose than these, it would still be worthwhile to write, and read, and study, fiction. However, I find that fiction can serve the purposes of, for example, bringing a nation’s and a planet’s attention to dire social issues: the enslavement of blacks by whites; the wage slavery of many white and nonwhite immigrants to the United States; the corruption and lack of hygiene in a meatpacking industry; and the damage inflicted by massive violence on a people. I continue to bring my friend works of fiction to read.

Urges to edit this piece of writing aside, I stand by my original position. On the other hand, I’ve also written before about the perils of reading historical fiction for educational purposes. While my friend has not specifically used this argument (that I recall), I think it’s an important concern. If we read really convincing, accurate, moving, memorable historical fiction, I think we run the risk of taking it as fact. Even the most discerning and aware reader (even me!) could end up with blurred lines in her subconscious about what she learned in a nonfiction vs. a fiction book. Once I learn a “fact,” it can be hard to call up its source, especially years later. This is especially concerning for someone like my friend in question, who is a highly intelligent man and who likes to have serious debates. I think he feels the importance of being able to cite one’s sources.

So I acknowledge the dangers of confusing high-quality historical fiction with fact. And even more confusing are the books that are billed as nonfiction and get questioned years after the fact (ahem, James Frey and Greg Mortenson). How’s a person to keep it all straight? Don’t even get me started on the library patron who was SURE, and could not be convinced otherwise, that John Grisham only writes nonfiction books. Everything in The Firm happened, she says. I couldn’t talk her out of it. (This is why the front of the book says, “This is a work of fiction…”)

So I do respect some of the challenges. My position hasn’t changed; if anything, I feel more strongly than ever that fiction is important. Some of the fiction I see doing good work in my day-to-day job is not even what we might call Important Fiction – it’s a lot of Louis Lamour, Danielle Steel, Debbie Macomber, and James Patterson, in fact. I work in a cancer hospital where my little library provides leisure reading for people experiencing incredible difficulties, great pain, or great fear. If reading Nora Roberts/J.D. Robb improves their day, I rate the value of even this pop/genre/fluffy/call-it-what-you-will fiction very, very high. My favorite examples are still Huck Finn, The Jungle, and the like. (Also Slaughterhouse-Five…) But it goes beyond such Important Books. Fiction can be beneficial, enlightening, world-changing, and uplifting in so many ways. Also, it can be fun. What’s so bad about that?

I’m not the first to ask this question or to try to answer it; and I’m certainly not the most eloquent, articulate, thorough, or exhaustive. Have you seen any great examples of answers to the question, “what is the value of fiction?” Do you have a great answer? I would love to hear (read) it. Do you disagree? I would be interested to read your argument on either side.

On a related note, I’m still hoping to find time to tackle Mightier than the Sword: Uncle Tom’s Cabin and the Battle for America by David S. Reynolds. Maybe I’ll have something new to contribute soon!

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the WSJ-YA uproar to which I am late

Posted on July 17, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I had a patron approach me in the library to ask my feelings on this issue.

The background is… more than a month ago, the Wall Street journal published this article by Meghan Cox Gurdon, which immediately became a huge deal. I would encourage you to go read it, because that’s the best way to know what it says, but in a nutshell, this children’s-book-reviewer lady notes an increase in “darkness” in young adult (YA) literature, and comments that darkness is not good for our young adults. While she has some supporters, there was overwhelming indignation among bookish/literary/librarianlike internet dwellers. They have mostly said, in a dark world, kids can actually benefit from reading about situations that are like those they are facing. Also, you shouldn’t censor. The author of the original, offending article has since published, also in the WSJ, a rebuttal.

I resisted entering the fracas, mostly because I feel my opinion is unnecessary (because I’ve read some other excellent responses) and because I don’t feel terribly well-qualified to have an Important Opinion, not being a YA librarian or really much of a reader of YA. Even when I was a YA. But on the other hand, this blog rather exists for the publication of my Not Very Important Opinions, and so I’ll throw it out there.

So. I had a patron approach me here in my (definitively adult) library and ask for my thoughts. I tried to tell her why I’m not qualified to have one but she pushed. So, I told her I agree with those opinions that say, children in rough positions need to read about said rough positions. The cited instances of “darkness” include stories about rape, prostitution, violence in general, poverty, and cutting (self-mutilation). Young people living these situations are in a position to benefit from having them handled wisely in literature, and I appreciate that such things are available. My patron turned out to be (as I understood her position) arguing that children living in darkness need to read about light – happier, brighter situations – to which I say, sure! Great! Let them read that stuff, too! She proceeded to argue that there is too much dark and not enough light; the proportions are wrong; at which point I have to beg off, because my very limited knowledge of current YA doesn’t allow me to debate this point. I don’t know the proportions, quite frankly. I support the idea of diverse options, for sure – in all things, in fact. (For example, there should be more than two political parties in our electoral system.) Lots of options, please. But if you prefer for your YA to read only happier, lighter books, I don’t think that should necessarily limit others – who might be interested in those “darker” ones – in their access to those choices.

I have to take issue with one of Gurdon’s conceptions (from the original article).

In the book trade, [guiding what young people read] is known as “banning.” In the parenting trade, however, we call this “judgment” or “taste.”

I’m afraid she’s confused about “banning.” Or maybe she’s just being imprecise in the phrase, “guiding what young people read.” There are several ways in which parents, guardians, or whoever can guide what young people read. For example, they can pay attention to what their children read, and direct those choices. The Maryland mother whose personal experience begins Gurdon’s article was doing just this. She wasn’t banning anything; she was exhibiting judgment and taste, and guiding her daughter’s reading choices. This is the kind of guidance I recommend; I encourage parents who are concerned about what their children read to pay attention to what their children read, and limit it as they find appropriate. Banning, on the other hand, is what parents and various community members attempt when they submit complaints to public libraries (for example) requesting that certain books be pulled off the shelves. I am in favor of “judgment” and “taste” – I may not agree with yours, but that’s fine as long as your judgment applies only to your child. I am against “banning,” which involves limiting other people‘s access to books. See the difference? Banning is not synonymous with parenting.

I don’t think rape or cutting in books leads to rape or cutting in life. I think it has the potential to offer some relief or catharsis or therapy. Certainly some children don’t need therapy for these traumas; absolutely Gurdon is correct that not all teens are rape victims, thank goodness! But I’m not sure that reading about even those traumas that are outside their experience isn’t necessarily instructive and good, too. (I wasn’t involved in teen violence or gangs, but still found S.E. Hinton’s oft-cited The Outsiders amazing; it was one of my favorite books.) I won’t push these books on your child, certainly, but I fail to see how the availability of these options is a bad thing. Again, I’m all for more options. If I accept my patron’s thesis that there is too much dark and not enough light in YA today, then by all means, let there be more light, in the interest of a multiplicity of options.

But, the vampires I could take or leave, actually.

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vocabulary lessons: South Texas Tales

Posted on June 8, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I thought I’d share a few more words I was inspired to look up by my recent read: a Mexican-American collection of short stories.

Cuatro Milpas is both the name of a cantina (bar) and the bartender/owner’s favorite song. Apparently a milpa is “a small field in Mexico or Central America that is cleared from the forest, cropped for a few seasons, and abandoned for a fresh clearing.”

anaphora: “a rhetorical term for the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses.” From the story Dona Porfiria Comes Calling, “Their father was a prolific reader and whenever he spoke to them using anaphora, they knew from past experience that they were doomed.”

Shibboleth: “any distinguishing practice that is indicative of one’s social or regional origin.” In its usage in the story by the same name, the Shibboleth (capitalized in the story, but this does not appear to always be the case) is basically a secret handshake.

menso: “someone who is stupid and/or annoying.” Used in dialog: “Hey! Jou’re not so ‘Mr. high and mighty’ now, eh rich boy? Jou’re daddy’s not aroun’ here, menso!” I like this phonetic expression of accents, a la Twain in Huck Finn and so many more (although I believe Twain was the first).

dècimas: defined in the story itself. Let me just share with you a short passage:

Sebastian remembered the dècimas and their complicated forty lines. A man would challenge another to a verbal duel by nailing a quatrain to the front door or a fence post. The challenged had to answer within a week by producing a complicated forty line poem with four ten line stanzas. Not only that, but the poem had to have a strict octosyllabic beat with an ‘abbaaccdde’ rhyme scheme. Many a man had tried and failed to meet the verbal challenge, but the CÌsneros men were fine ‘dècimeros’ and always relished the competition.

Isn’t that an awfully cool tradition? And so literary! I would be very impressed to observe one of these challenges being met.

merienda: context clues tell me that this is something like a late-afternoon meal of dessert. In my interwebs-searching for a definition, I found a source of information that I especially appreciated. (You may observe that I vary my sources: Wikipedia, About.com, online dictionaries including the urbandictionary.com, or whatever seems most appropriate to my need.) I found a blog that nailed this one, in a surprisingly close-to-home post about eating in the Med Center, where I work. Dr. Ricky defines the term for me:

Although loosely translated to mean snack, merienda cuisine is markedly different from what Americans consider snacks (which appear to me as extended desserts). They aren’t simply sweet items meant to provide a quick spike of blood sugar – merienda foods are proper filling small versions of regular meals, more often savory than sweet.

…and so on, discussing the food he (I think it’s a he? I could be wrong) is accustomed to seeing at meriendas in different countries.

These little cultural learning moments were great fun for me. Have you learned any new words lately?

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vocabulary lessons: The Great Night

Posted on June 4, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Sometimes I learn a lot of new words from a book. For bookmarks, I don’t use pretty bits that were designed for use as bookmarks; I use scraps of paper (usually, something that’s been printed on one side and discarded, which I then cut into quarter-pages for just this purpose). I try to carry a pen, and I take notes on the bookmark about questions I have, or passages I might want to come back to later. This way, I can look up that reference to a book, movie, or person I wasn’t familiar with; I can quote a passage in a blog post; or I can look up the meaning of unfamiliar words and go back and reread the sentence with a new understanding.

The Great Night was full of learning opportunities – so much so, that I thought I’d share them here.

Monchhichi – okay, maybe everyone knew this one but me. Apparently a Monchhichi doll is a Japanese stuffed monkey with a certain “look” to it, thus the usage: “…might… run into a girl with a Monchhichi hairdo who could demonstrate that it didn’t matter at all…”

cosmesis – the preservation, restoration, or bestowing of bodily beauty. (very appropriate for fairy-land?) “So she did magic instead, scene by scene, working a sort of dual cosmesis upon the players and the play…”

irenic – tending to promote peace or reconciliation; peaceful or conciliatory. “…her wild spasms contrasting with the irenic strains of the music.”

capacitous – having large or exemplary capacity. “How odd, she thought, and how horrible to see them still there, slosh full of tears and regret, but no more capacitous, and perhaps not as full, as her own.”

These were all so very new to me! (And I had to look up the movie Soylent Green, too. Fairly integral to the plot, actually.) I love learning while I read. Have you spotted any new words lately?

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The Heroine’s Bookshelf by Erin Blakemore

Posted on April 22, 2011 by pagesofjulia

I have a delightful little book to share with you today! I mightily enjoyed Erin Blakemore’s The Heroine’s Bookshelf: Life Lessons, from Jane Austen to Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Blakemore’s message is this: we are all heroines in our daily lives, or at least we can and should be; and we have a wealth of heroines to learn from. These are the women of our favorite books. She organizes her book by chapters which each deal with one lesson or attribute (including dignity, happiness, and simplicity), represented by one author (all are women) and one female character, from one book or series. I would love to list them all here for you but feel I should leave you something to discover when (not if!) you pick this book up yourself; so I shall tease you with Alice Walker and Margaret Mitchell, on top of the two authors Blakemore names in her subtitle.

It’s a very sweet, comforting, and comfortable little book. Twelve chapters explore twelve women’s literary impact on our world. Eleven of them I definitely call classics; one I’d never heard of! but of course I don’t know everything. Blakemore’s approach is intimate and loving and a touch incisive. It’s not an academic or intellectual book, but it’s not what you might call “fluffy”, either. She did do some research, I’m sure, as she discusses not only what’s between the pages of the books in question, but also notes biographical details about the authors and draws some conclusions. For instance, I didn’t know about the 2008 revelation by the descendants of Lucy Maud Montgomery about her death. This book is not too serious – a light read – but an important one, at the same time.

I am absolutely inspired to read, and re-read, the books examined here. I share Blakemore’s love for Jo March, and I wonder at her selection of Jane Eyre over Wuthering Heights, but we’re all unique, individual heroines, aren’t we. I marvel at her call to compare Frances Hodgson Burnett to Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse! but I admire her for it, too. Again, the adjectives that come to mind are comfortable, almost warm-n-fuzzy.

I need to own this book; the library’s copy will not suffice. And I think YOU should own it, too. Who am I talking to here? Well, I readily accept that many of these books are “girls’ books” (or women’s). But some are absolutely essential to us all: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, for example, is an important book all around. This book is directed at women, but is not necessarily to be enjoyed by them exclusively. I’m sure you know who you are.

I can almost see a book club (or reading blog) project coming out of this. I would be very happy to shelve this book, in my home library, next to its twelve objects of study, and read them all in a streak of thirteen, with a mind to discussion. This would be a lovely thing to share with other women – and a willing man or two if they could be located. I don’t have the energy to put this together at this time, but do invite me if you decide to. :)

I’m so glad I found this little jewel. I hope you’ll find it, and enjoy it, too.

Edit: My mother asked who this author is, and I had to go looking for the answer, so here it is, Mom: she calls herself “a writer, entrepreneur, and inveterate bookworm” on her website, and I was immediately drawn in to her blog and have added it to the list of blogs I follow.

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a collection of destinations for you

Posted on January 14, 2011 by pagesofjulia

Today I wanted to share with you how I start my day, and where it takes me. Maybe you’ll come along.

When I get to the library in the morning, one of the things I try to do as it fits into other necessary morning tasks, is read my Shelf Awareness email. This is a daily digest for booksellers (or, in my case, librarians) with bookish news. A lot of the news regards the bookselling industry specifically – how Barnes and Noble and Borders are doing, profiles of small or family-owned book stores, market trends, and whatnot. These items are not terribly interesting to me, usually, but I skim them and am sometimes interested. I read it, more, for the book reviews and interesting links. Generally, bookish trends are of interest to me and help me do my job. It does pay for me to know what people want to buy because I buy the books for my library and obviously I try to provide what people are wanting these days. If you’re interested in the emails, you can sign up here.

Today, for example, I learned from Shelf Awareness of the renaming of the Boscobel Aerodrome in Orcabessa, Jamaica as the Ian Fleming International Airport. Ian Fleming wrote the James Bond books, reportedly at a “scenic retreat” nearby. That’s a fun fact.

I also found this teaser: “the Guardian asked readers to check their literary balances with a ‘banking in literature’ quiz”, and I thought, oh boy a literary quiz! but it turned out to be quite specifically a quiz about banking in literature, which turns out to be something in which I am not an expert, so that was kind of a flop, for me personally. Maybe you’ll do better.

But then I found Tom the Dancing Bug’s classix comix version of the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (Corrected to reflect modern sensibilities). If you’re reading my reading blog you’re probably the sort of person who is also aware of the general furor regarding NewSouth‘s republication of Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn without use of the n-word or “injun”. I will say very briefly that I am scandalized and strongly against this move, for the oft-cited reasons that a) we respect Mark Twain for his original genius and no one should be re-writing him, b) he put those words in on PURPOSE for goodness sake and with a purpose, which included satire and the bringing to our attention that these words are and were overused and wrong, and c) that the use of these very words always incites discussion (as evidenced by this recent furor), which is a good thing. YES these words are offensive, and this offense is still relevent; that’s why we still need Mark Twain’s work as he originally, thoughtfully created it. So. See the above cartoon for what I think is a very clever satire of the republication.

Next, Shelf Awareness tells me that David Nicholls’ book One Day is moving forward and being made into a movie, which was predicted from the very start. I read this book when a patron loaned it to me, and I enjoyed it fine, although I definitely agreed with Publishers Weekly’s view that it was made for the screen. I don’t watch a lot of movies (largely because the Husband doesn’t like to) but I do like Anne Hathaway, who’s in this one, so I may find a way to see it (without the Husband).

Something else I got out of today’s Shelf Awareness email – and this is a little embarrassing – but when I followed the above link to that ‘banking in literature’ quiz, I found mention of Watership Down as “bucolic children’s fiction”, which didn’t sound familiar to me. I mean, I know the name Watership Down (by Richard Adams), but didn’t think it was a children’s book; I think I had it crossed up in my head with Fahrenheit 451 or Slaughterhouse 5 or something. So I had to go look up Watership Down, and it sounds lovely (and also it turns out that at least somebody on wikipedia agrees with my vague impression that it’s highly allegorical), and now I am determined to read this book because it sounds great. So there you go, after clicking several links and looking things up, I have a new book TBR, and I guess that’s part of what Shelf Awareness is all about.

Finally, in my blog explorations, I came across a really, really delightful post today from author Sharon Kay Penman, in which she discusses historical accuracy, her dedication to it (hear hear! something I blogged about earlier), her responsibility to us readers, and some specific challenges. For example, the personalities she writes about, from the Middle Ages, have significantly different values from ours, regarding women’s rights, animal cruelty, conduct in warfare, etc. I highly recommend taking a few minutes to read this post from an author I deeply respect. (Sharon Kay Penman–>)

You’ve just taken a tour through my morning ramblings on the interwebs; hope you’ve found something interesting. :) What do you play with on the internet to find bookish news or tidbits?

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Midweek bookish transitions.

Posted on December 22, 2010 by pagesofjulia

Well folks, today is the sad day that saw the end of When Christ and His Saints Slept. It’s always a good book that leaves me mourning its close. I can still remember finishing Wuthering Heights in high school and moping on the couch for days, just so sad that there was no more.

Moment of silence.

The story of Maude/Henry and Stephen/Eustace’s 19-year battle for the English crown ended a little bit anticlimactically, which is no judgment on Penman’s part since she stuck to history! But wasn’t a let-down, or anything. She finished on a hopeful note, with Ranulf and Rhiannon heading happily home to Wales with baby Gilbert; and I came away with the feeling that justice was more or less served all around, which is a strange coincidence when dealing with historical fact. Her afterword and author’s note were gold to me, by the way; definitely worth the 5 minutes or so it takes to read these few pages. She ties up the historical endings for myriad characters, and then discusses historical accuracy (thank you!!) and where she chose to take liberties, and where she chose between different accounts. This is where I learned that Ranulf was an invention; I really appreciated what Penman wrote about enjoying playing god with this one character, which is an unusual experience for her. What fun! I guess that’s how she was able to give us such a happy, hopeful ending, that we get to finish for ourselves. Ahhhh.

So unlike in the case of Wuthering Heights, there are sequels; this book is the first in a trilogy, and there are still a number of Penman novels that await me. That earns another Ahhhh.

Next up: I’m watching the poll below for a tiebreaker betwixt Room and Still Missing. Help a girl out; at this time tomorrow I will have started one or the other! Thanks for your time.

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admiring Sharon Kay Penman; and, a discussion of historical accuracy

Posted on December 20, 2010 by pagesofjulia

As I near the end of this masterpiece, I’m marveling at author Penman’s ability to keep everything straight. The number of people, castles, battles, the family relationships, the sequence of events, the shifting loyalties – I’m doing okay as the reader at staying clear, but only because I allow myself to drift and be re-seated by my gracious guide every so often; and of course because she’s created strong enough characters that it’s easy to follow each personality. (No one would ever get Henry and Eustace confused.) I wonder just how close to true history she stays? Clearly there’s an unbelievable amount of research involved; but I wonder how truly accurate this novel is. Of course, the devil’s advocate might wonder how truly accurate our “history” books are on this time, too, considering how long ago (the 1100′s) and that history is written by the victor, and all. At any rate, this book has encouraged me to do some research of my own: into Penman herself.

First I went looking for the author’s website; these are often my favorite resources in answering questions about a series, like series order and years of publication, as well as what’s coming out. (I figure generally an author has an interest in promoting upcoming work and in keeping them straight.) Penman lists her books both alphabetically and chronologically, isn’t that helpful of her. And wouldn’t you know, she has a blog! What fun.

The first thing I learned on her website is that I lied when I said I’d only read one book of hers before this one. I read The Queen’s Man several years ago and forgot who the author was. Now that it’s been pointed out to me I do recall that book as being in her style, but call me suggestible. I’m such a haphazard reader: I read the third in one Penman trilogy and am now reading the first in another… no respect for series order. You know, I kind of think it’s the mark of a good book that it stands alone even if it is part of a series. I’m generally not bothered by spoilers or out-of-order reading. Maybe I’m just fortunate to have a short memory; I have certainly reread books (like mysteries) that benefit from surprise plot twists, and been surprised all over again! (I consider this a gift, allowing for repeated enjoyment of the same revelation.) I love Penman and would love to read more; but I’ll most likely just fall upon whatever crosses my path next, without regard for order. With so many wonderful books in the world, I rarely find myself seeking out particular ones; it’s so easy to just read the wonderful book that lands on my desk next.

But my purpose in seeking Penman out was to look into her research methods. The first thing I came upon was her research recommendations, sort of an annotated list with discussion of resources. But I had a lot more fun reading her medieval mishaps, where she confesses to mistakes in historical accuracy, including a number of anachronisms that I, for one, would never in a million years have spotted. Remember, I read historical fiction in part because it teaches me history! …which I love, but I also want to remain aware of the inherent risk of learning something incorrectly as fact. So again, how closely researched? If Penman is concerned about whether or not Stephen’s hunting hawks wore hoods, or the expected life span of an Irish wolfhound in the 1400′s, I can’t believe she’d get the sequence (or victors!) of major battles wrong. But let’s not make assumptions.

According to her blog, Penman’s normal contract for a novel is three years, during which she does research that she repeatedly calls obsessive-compulsive. This is promising. But I’m not sure that reading her own characterization of her research is a fair way to judge; surely any author of historical fiction would claim exhaustiveness? This leads me to look for similar information about Philippa Gregory, another author of historical fiction I’ve enjoyed. A few minutes of internet research makes it easy to see that the internet, at least, gives Penman much more credit for accuracy than Gregory. This doesn’t surprise me too much, as Penman’s books read a bit more “seriously” than Gregory: P spends more time on historical details while G is a bit fluffier, a bit more romance-novel.

I fear that the final conclusion I’m coming to, is that one would have to do considerable research, nearly become an expert oneself, to best judge how accurate Penman’s (or Gregory’s) fiction really is. I’m not interested in that much research just now! Short of such an investment myself, I can only look at the statements made my other readers, who are themselves experts to greater or lesser extents, unknown to me. I found an interesting discussion here from librarything that sort of illustrates my point: it’s open to interpretation, depending on your level of expertise. I guess what I’d most like to read is an article of literary criticism written by an academic scholar of the era of history under discussion; but I don’t think those sorts of scholars tend to spend their time critiquing Sharon Kay Penman.* sigh.

Does it matter how historically accurate a work of fiction is? Yes and no. Historical accuracy does not effect my enjoyment of this book, because I don’t know any better. (If I know better, we’re in a whole new topic; see below.) As a work of fiction, it can be very very strong, both as literary achievement and as entertainment, without being very accurate at all. At some point, of course, it might be best to let it stand as “fiction” rather than claiming to be “historical”; but you get my point. However, there is a real danger in educating ourselves through fiction. Using fiction to learn history requires vigilant attention be paid to historical accuracy. So, it depends on what your purpose is in reading. But awareness is always important in life and in reading: awareness of our purposes in reading; awareness of historical accuracy; awareness of what our reading is convincing us of, regardless of our original purpose.

I especially appreciated a comment on that same librarything discussion, made by margad in message 28: “sometimes small inaccuracies can completely spoil one’s trust in an author.” This is a real concern. I deeply disliked a book called Sophie’s World, by Jostein Gaarder, for a number of reasons, but immediately off the bat I disliked it for a reference to what Homer “wrote.” Homer was prehistory; there was no writing; this is incredibly important in appreciating what he achieved, grumble grumble. Get a fact that I know wrong in the early pages, and you will lose me, immediately and probably irreconcilably.

Have I gotten far enough off topic? My original purpose in writing today was to say wow, Ms. Penman, hats off to you for writing such a lengthy and detailed novel that keeps everything so straight – whether it’s perfectly accurate or not, that’s an achievement, and I’ve enjoyed it mightily, and have no idea how true to fact it is. :)

*I did find a little smidge of such criticism, of all things, about Gregory here:

Internationally renowned novel critic Dr. James Higgins (who has a PhD in Historic Literature from the University of Australia) said of Gregory when he reviewed The Other Boleyn Girl: “Philippa Gregory has created a mesmerising work of fiction, seamlessly intertwined with historical fact. While her list of sources may give some reason to believe her novel contains more fact than fiction, it is quite clear to me that Gregory has gained a knowledge of the basic storyline, as well the culture and customs of the Tudor Court, and embellished and dramatised it even more (if that is possible).”

Conclusion? She writes historical fiction. Thank you Mr. Higgins. At least I know such a scholar exists!

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edits on an education from James Lee Burke

Posted on December 8, 2010 by pagesofjulia

I need to edit my claim that mysteries don’t make me do research.

First I realized that I’ve needed a reference source a few times while reading Lee Child, on all the guns he writes about and their functions and ability to, for example, withstand torrential rain. However, the Husband has filled this role sufficiently to date, so far, so I haven’t actually *looked up* anything.

I also did some research on the painter Hieronymous Bosch, while getting into Michael Connelly’s series starring a detective protagonist by the same name. This became particularly important when I read A Darkness More Than Night, which deals with painter-Bosch’s work fairly extensively. So here I am coming up with examples that refute my earlier statement; ah well, that’s life.

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an education from James Lee Burke

Posted on December 7, 2010 by pagesofjulia

While I am neither the most or the least well- and widely-read person in the world, I do have a graduate degree and do a fair amount of reading; I have a fairly strong vocabulary. I can generally hold my own amongst educated folks. I’m pretty weak on religion, though, which is where most of my questions have come up in The Tin Roof Blowdown. Credit to Burke for making me look up a number of references – something I’m not afraid to do and occasionally relish doing; but it doesn’t happen every day, and very rarely when reading genre fiction!

Today I looked up the Garden of Gethsemane, for example. From page 3, in the intro to the novel and the horrors it offers: “But as I watched Jude grow into manhood, I had to relearn the old lesson that often the best people in our midst are perhaps destined to become sojourners in the Garden of Gethsemane. Ordinary men and women keep track of time in sequential fashion, by use of clocks and calendars. The residents of Gethsemane do not.” What is this garden? Apparently it’s the place where Jesus prayed to his father the night before his arrest and crucifixion. When delving into the symbolism and significance of locating certain characters in Gethsemane I’m a little stumped; it’s like the class on biblical references starts at a higher level than I’m prepared for; I didn’t take the prerequisite. It is suggested that Gethsemane is a symbol for Christ’s controlled and willing submission to his father’s will. It’s also compared and contrasted to that other biblical garden that even I have heard of, Eden. But I find that my internet research (from Wikipedia to the Encyclopedia Britannica and quite a few religious sites) doesn’t yield me a satisfactory understanding of Burke’s mention above.

I also had to look up the Great Whore of Babylon, which Burke writes is the city of New Orleans. This is another enigma to me and I didn’t do much better. Apparently the bible states that the whore offers us false gods and other alternatives to Jesus and what he represents; it’s a Christian allegory for evil and decadence and pleasurable sin. Yep, that sounds like New Orleans, which could be an alternative object of worship, too. But again I think I’m missing some nuances that would require much deeper bible study than I’m interested in right now. I don’t remember this much biblical allusion in Burke.

The next one was secular: John Ehrlichman, used as an example of why military honors do not an honorable man make. Ehrlichman is an easy icon to dissect: he was a Nixon aid and was involved in Watergate. These are symbols I’m familiar with.

Any bible scholars out there who care to explain the first two references to me, please do…

I always find it a refreshing challenge when a book makes me take notes and look things up later. Of course there’s a comfortable limit; running to an encyclopedia or dictionary for every page of text disrupts the flow. But in general I appreciate learning new things when they’re presented to me. It’s not a common experience in mystery novels though! Well played, Mr. Burke.

What have you had to look up lately in conjunction with your reading? Don’t be shy. None of us knows everything.

 

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