My local indie bookstore just phoned me to say that a book I ordered (Dancing in the Glory of Monsters by Jason K. Stearns) is in and maybe I'd like to come pick it up today at lunch. It's a nonfiction title about the ongoing warfare in the country now known as the Democratic Republic of Congo (DR Congo for short). During my youth we called it Zaire. Before I was born it was the Belgian Congo. The ongoing war in DR Congo is said to be the deadliest conflict since World War II. [Thanks to BK Broyla for pointing out my original misstatement comparing the two wars.] It's an unbelievably horrific story that most people have never heard.
I'm reading up on this horror show because part of my work-in-progress is based in eastern DR Congo, where the fighting has been the worst and where atrocities and war crimes continue to this very day. In fact, as you read this, something unspeakable is likely happening in DR Congo. DR Congo also has the distinction of being the rape capital of the world. Isn't that nice?
This is all part of the research for my current novel. I had no idea things were so utterly hellish in DR Congo when I started writing; this is all stuff I've discovered along the way.
My WIP is set, unlike my other novels, in the present day. I did this so I wouldn't have to do a lot of research, but once I decided that my female lead was going to live for a while in a third-world country and for a variety of innocent reasons I chose DR Congo, I was back into the work of doing research. Mostly, you know, I wanted enough facts and enough of a feel for the place that I could create the appropriate verisimilitude in my reader. I did not want to become an expert in equatorial African history and politics. I just wanted to be able to believably write my setting and my supporting cast, but the situation in DR Congo is complex and so I'm doing more reading than I'd originally intended.
This always happens to me. In order to write a couple thousand words of description and setting, I end up reading a couple thousand pages of nonfiction. I have to know, apparently, a great deal more about the real historical place and time than I actually use in the novel. And, of course, I have to know more or less what's true so that I know how far I'm comfortable distorting that truth. The facts are always less important to me than the unity of my narrative. I don't write history books; I write fiction.
Still, I always wonder how much of the discovered history to include into the novels. I could have put a bunch of interesting facts about America in the Great Depression into the detective novel I just wrote. I could have worked a lot of interesting trivia into the Colonial American book I wrote last year. But most of the stuff I learned stayed out of the narratives, and likely most of the things I'll learn (or have already learned) about African small hold farms and Rwandan armies and Hutus and Tutsis and the UN relief efforts will remain outside of the book.
I'm aware that there is a genre called Historical Fiction that has its own set of tropes and expectations, but I don't really read this genre so I don't really know how my works compare to actual historical fiction. I want my readers to feel like they're wherever I'm sending them in space or time, but I don't want to teach history and I have little patience for books that attempt to recreate, brick-by-brick, a lost time or place. I want characters and humanity, darn it. Everything else is set dressing and costuming to me.
Does anyone here write historical fiction? How do you decide how much of your research to put in? What's the purpose of your research? Do you write because of the history, or is the history because of the story, if you take my meaning?
Showing posts with label Research. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Research. Show all posts
Monday, November 21, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Houellebecq And I Research The Same Way
I am currently reading Michel Houellebecq's Atomised, which I will tell you reminds me of Antonia Byatt's Babel Tower series crossed with, maybe, Gunter Grass's Local Anaesthetic. Possibly the similarities I see are only superficial: something about the way Grass shows the inner life of his protagonist, and Byatt's interest in and use of biosciences and the way she'll slip long passages about the biology of snails (for example) into her narratives. Other readers will of course make connections between Atomised and authors other than Byatt and Grass, and it would be easy for me to sort of digress into a discussion of how what we've already read informs what we are currently reading, but I'll leave that for the literary theorists who believe in reader-response theory (take it away, boys...).
Where? Oh, Houellebecq. So I'm reading this book and you can see that the author has done a lot of research, on biology and physics, on the history of science and scientific writing, on the life of Aldous Huxley and his family, on the sociopolitical changes in Europe during the 60s and 70s, et cetera. Houellebecq takes on some pretty big themes here and has clearly spent a lot of time reading and thinking about these things.
But I wonder if that's how he began this book. At the heart of the novel is the story of two half brothers, Michel and Bruno, who are externally very different but deep down very much the same. Each of them is an aspect of a sort of 20th-century Everyman living in an "atomised" or isolated society, looking for love but unable to go about it in anything but destructive, meaningless ways. I think that Houellebecq began with these two brothers (one an artist, one a brilliant scientist), started to research and stumbled across the larger ideas he's incorporated into the novel. I get the feeling that he, like Antonia Byatt, lets his reading take him where it will, and he reads to find out, to see what he can see, to learn what's there to be learned and to be able to write what he doesn't know, because writing about what we don't know is always more interesting than writing about what we do know.
Now, it's entirely possible that I assume this about Houellebecq because that's how I go about my own research for novels, and I like to generalize from my own behavior because I've got this massive ego and so everyone must be, at root, just like me because I am the very measure of normality. Likely I'm wrong, and not just about the way some French guy researched a book in the late 1990s.
But, as I say, that's how I research: I begin with vague ideas for my characters and then I try to learn about what sort of daily lives they'd have. That reading always leads down surprising paths and ideas begin to present themselves for inclusion in the book. For example, I am currently researching stuff for my next project, Nowhere But North. This book is the story of an expedition to Antarctica in 1914, based very loosely on the expedition of that year by Ernest Shackleton aboard the HMS Endurance. So I've got a stack of books about that expedition because I want to know what it's like to live on a sailing ship that's trapped in the ice off the Antarctic coast in 1914-15. I also want to know about the expedition leader, because my book has an expedition leader (who is only partially modeled on Shackleton).
I have three other main characters: my protagonist (who is the quartermaster of the expedition, and works in an office at New York Harbor before he joins the ship's crew); Lilly, the expedition leader's daughter (Lilly is bright, educated and in love with the protagonist); and a guy named Fitzgerald (I think) who is the second-in-command on the expedition. Fitzgerald is the villain in the piece.
So I am reading books about New York City in 1900-1914 because 1/3 of the narrative takes place there. I am reading about Greenwich Village in 1914 because that's where my protagonist lives. I picked The Village because I've been there, and because I stumbled across some interesting books about it when I was shopping for books about old New York. Reading about Greenwich Village in that period led me to a bunch of women activists of the era which has told me a lot about who Lilly is, and has given me an idea for one of the big themes of the book: the social activism of women in 1914 versus the self-aggrandizing vainglory of men at the end of the Age of Exploration. That theme found me, as did a bunch of other stuff I'll work into the book.
And I'm nowhere near done with my research yet, and I have no idea what other ideas are sitting around out there waiting for me to see them and decide they'll work in this narrative.
My book Killing Hamlet prominently features the astrologer Tycho Brahe because it occurred to me one day that Brahe died the same year Shakespeare wrote "Hamlet" and I thought I could connect them. It was never a part of my original idea. My book Cocke & Bull has a hurricane because I was researching Norfolk, VA and I stumbled upon the fact that the big sand bar at the mouth of the river was dredged up by a hurricane in October of 1749, so I shifted a few things around so that I could use the hurricane and the date because a hurricane is a really cool thing to have in Act Three of your novel. The second half of the book's middle is set in the Great Dismal Swamp along the Virginia/North Carolina border because I saw the name on a map and who can resist that? As I say, I sort of let my research treat me like the ball in a pinball machine: I go where it sends me and I stay open to whatever cool ideas I'm knocked against.
So now to you: what's a surprising thing you stumbled upon that you've used in a book/story, something that was not part of the original idea but pushed the story into a cool new place you never would have thought of on your own?
Where? Oh, Houellebecq. So I'm reading this book and you can see that the author has done a lot of research, on biology and physics, on the history of science and scientific writing, on the life of Aldous Huxley and his family, on the sociopolitical changes in Europe during the 60s and 70s, et cetera. Houellebecq takes on some pretty big themes here and has clearly spent a lot of time reading and thinking about these things.
But I wonder if that's how he began this book. At the heart of the novel is the story of two half brothers, Michel and Bruno, who are externally very different but deep down very much the same. Each of them is an aspect of a sort of 20th-century Everyman living in an "atomised" or isolated society, looking for love but unable to go about it in anything but destructive, meaningless ways. I think that Houellebecq began with these two brothers (one an artist, one a brilliant scientist), started to research and stumbled across the larger ideas he's incorporated into the novel. I get the feeling that he, like Antonia Byatt, lets his reading take him where it will, and he reads to find out, to see what he can see, to learn what's there to be learned and to be able to write what he doesn't know, because writing about what we don't know is always more interesting than writing about what we do know.
Now, it's entirely possible that I assume this about Houellebecq because that's how I go about my own research for novels, and I like to generalize from my own behavior because I've got this massive ego and so everyone must be, at root, just like me because I am the very measure of normality. Likely I'm wrong, and not just about the way some French guy researched a book in the late 1990s.
But, as I say, that's how I research: I begin with vague ideas for my characters and then I try to learn about what sort of daily lives they'd have. That reading always leads down surprising paths and ideas begin to present themselves for inclusion in the book. For example, I am currently researching stuff for my next project, Nowhere But North. This book is the story of an expedition to Antarctica in 1914, based very loosely on the expedition of that year by Ernest Shackleton aboard the HMS Endurance. So I've got a stack of books about that expedition because I want to know what it's like to live on a sailing ship that's trapped in the ice off the Antarctic coast in 1914-15. I also want to know about the expedition leader, because my book has an expedition leader (who is only partially modeled on Shackleton).
I have three other main characters: my protagonist (who is the quartermaster of the expedition, and works in an office at New York Harbor before he joins the ship's crew); Lilly, the expedition leader's daughter (Lilly is bright, educated and in love with the protagonist); and a guy named Fitzgerald (I think) who is the second-in-command on the expedition. Fitzgerald is the villain in the piece.
So I am reading books about New York City in 1900-1914 because 1/3 of the narrative takes place there. I am reading about Greenwich Village in 1914 because that's where my protagonist lives. I picked The Village because I've been there, and because I stumbled across some interesting books about it when I was shopping for books about old New York. Reading about Greenwich Village in that period led me to a bunch of women activists of the era which has told me a lot about who Lilly is, and has given me an idea for one of the big themes of the book: the social activism of women in 1914 versus the self-aggrandizing vainglory of men at the end of the Age of Exploration. That theme found me, as did a bunch of other stuff I'll work into the book.
And I'm nowhere near done with my research yet, and I have no idea what other ideas are sitting around out there waiting for me to see them and decide they'll work in this narrative.
My book Killing Hamlet prominently features the astrologer Tycho Brahe because it occurred to me one day that Brahe died the same year Shakespeare wrote "Hamlet" and I thought I could connect them. It was never a part of my original idea. My book Cocke & Bull has a hurricane because I was researching Norfolk, VA and I stumbled upon the fact that the big sand bar at the mouth of the river was dredged up by a hurricane in October of 1749, so I shifted a few things around so that I could use the hurricane and the date because a hurricane is a really cool thing to have in Act Three of your novel. The second half of the book's middle is set in the Great Dismal Swamp along the Virginia/North Carolina border because I saw the name on a map and who can resist that? As I say, I sort of let my research treat me like the ball in a pinball machine: I go where it sends me and I stay open to whatever cool ideas I'm knocked against.
So now to you: what's a surprising thing you stumbled upon that you've used in a book/story, something that was not part of the original idea but pushed the story into a cool new place you never would have thought of on your own?
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Past and the Pending
No, this isn't about verb tense. You can all breathe a sigh of relief. Today I want to talk about what a reader can reasonably expect in the way of historical accuracy from a writer.
I know there is a genre called "historical fiction" where real-life figures play roles in fictional stories, or where fictional characters play roles in actual historical events. In this genre, I am led to believe, readers expect a pretty well fleshed-out historical world, with loads of period detail and all of the story events must align properly with real-world events. Have I got that right? I don't actually read historical fiction; I merely report what I've been told.
I have, at this point in time, about five books pretty well planned out for future writing. All of them take place in the past. My last book was in the late 16th Century, my current book is in 1749 (in and around Maryland, USA), my next book will likely be set in England and then Antarctica around 1915, the book after that will be around Baltimore in 1910, and the one after that will be set in 1790. Possibly at some point I'll finish a book abandoned a decade ago called The Metaphysics of the Rat, which is set in 1612. So I'll be spending my writing life in the past.
While I do a ton of research when I'm writing about historical periods and places, I've come to realize that for me at least, when the needs of the story conflict with the realities of space and time (which is to say, real history), the story trumps actual fact. Although I don't write in the historical fiction genre, people have sometimes told me that this attitude, that a work of fiction--if it's not overtly some sort of alternative history--should be accurate in historical fact. That a writer should just make sure his research is deep enough to represent the places and times he choses for setting in a way that informed persons won't have cause to point to the work and say, "Wow, look at how dead wrong this is."
On the one hand, I do believe that you should know enough about your period and place that you don't put a cell phone in Magellan's hand or locate Madrid in Italy. On the other hand, if there was a massive earthquake in South America in 1950 and you want to incorporate that into your story set in 1948, I say go for it. The average reader just wants a compelling story, I think, and will let you gloss over facts if the truth of the characters is there.
So what's your opinion on this? Should a writer be sure of every one of his facts when writing about historical periods? Should someone like me have historians vet my stories against their professional knowledge? And when the story and the history are in conflict, is it incumbent upon writers to change their story to fit actual history?
I know there is a genre called "historical fiction" where real-life figures play roles in fictional stories, or where fictional characters play roles in actual historical events. In this genre, I am led to believe, readers expect a pretty well fleshed-out historical world, with loads of period detail and all of the story events must align properly with real-world events. Have I got that right? I don't actually read historical fiction; I merely report what I've been told.
I have, at this point in time, about five books pretty well planned out for future writing. All of them take place in the past. My last book was in the late 16th Century, my current book is in 1749 (in and around Maryland, USA), my next book will likely be set in England and then Antarctica around 1915, the book after that will be around Baltimore in 1910, and the one after that will be set in 1790. Possibly at some point I'll finish a book abandoned a decade ago called The Metaphysics of the Rat, which is set in 1612. So I'll be spending my writing life in the past.
While I do a ton of research when I'm writing about historical periods and places, I've come to realize that for me at least, when the needs of the story conflict with the realities of space and time (which is to say, real history), the story trumps actual fact. Although I don't write in the historical fiction genre, people have sometimes told me that this attitude, that a work of fiction--if it's not overtly some sort of alternative history--should be accurate in historical fact. That a writer should just make sure his research is deep enough to represent the places and times he choses for setting in a way that informed persons won't have cause to point to the work and say, "Wow, look at how dead wrong this is."
On the one hand, I do believe that you should know enough about your period and place that you don't put a cell phone in Magellan's hand or locate Madrid in Italy. On the other hand, if there was a massive earthquake in South America in 1950 and you want to incorporate that into your story set in 1948, I say go for it. The average reader just wants a compelling story, I think, and will let you gloss over facts if the truth of the characters is there.
So what's your opinion on this? Should a writer be sure of every one of his facts when writing about historical periods? Should someone like me have historians vet my stories against their professional knowledge? And when the story and the history are in conflict, is it incumbent upon writers to change their story to fit actual history?
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