HISTORY.........imagining it in historical fiction.
I suspect some of my loyal readers could well be history buffs. If you dabbled in the Humanities at University then assuredly you have opened history books which opened windows to world History and the fabled accounts preserved in books. The star historian today is Peter Frankopan based at Oxford University as Senior Fellow and Director of Research departments. His book ‘Silk Roads’ is a rare book which is ambitious, detailed and makes one question every assumption held about the world. He has garnished international accolades and regarded as being the storyteller author of the most important history book written in decades.
I stumbled on ‘The Silk Roads’ during Covid at my local bookstore and lugged it home excited by the sub title which read ‘A new history of the world’. The wretchedness of a Covid lockdown could be alleviated by reading history written by a young Oxford Historian who
se book back cover blurbs had the international academics drooling. I had no idea that the exquisite logic of his preface would ensnare me as it did. As a schoolboy Peter Frankopan felt that the history he was taught in school had missed huge regions of the world. A curious silence emerged. What he could see with the mind of a future historian was studying the past did not require the retelling of the triumph of European civilizations alone.
The centre of Asia he maintains was where empires were created as fertile Mesopatamia fed by two rivers, Tigris and Euphrates sprouted towns and cities. This was the crucible of great civilizations and that is where the pages of ‘The Silk Roads’ took me in short bursts of reading. Book still unfinished as I linger over its brilliant revelations and story telling prowess. It is like a box of chocolate truffles which must be savoured slowly.
I could relate to the schoolboy Peter Frankopan as the History I studied for my overseas Baccalaureate was defined by great wars fought and dates of triumphs in British and fragmented central Asian history. The choice of history was not diverse but dull, prosaic and to be consigned to memory in order to fill out exam papers. Decades later, when I wrote novels and memoirs ,I shied away from history until the history of a particular famine in the region of my birthplace horrified and mesmerized me .
The birth of a book is like a butterfly which sits on the shoulder and does not move until one has finishes writing the book. The process is fraught with delicacy and disaster. However, living up to my ‘Wild thoughts’ predilection I have made the bold decision to write a novel set in history. Historical fiction is the genre made wonderfully readable by many gifted authors. Within the undeniable framework of a tragic evidenced history a tale of a journey and a spellbinding romance unfurled in my mind. The butterfly still sits on my shoulder.
Our socially responsible brave new world dictates that history has to be re-written in many areas. Many past heroes whether Kings or Leaders were despots, unjust and a disgrace as they now give deep offence to the sensibilities of many. I do not believe in toppling statues. I feel both the past and present can be entwined. Also the statue is the work of an artist who was never paid enough but thought good enough to be viewed in public. If somebody ripped up a book of mine I think I would instantly bleed and die.
Historical fiction is a skilled endeavor. Most works of fiction are truths re-imagined. The first part is research. An astute study of historical facts and then the hunt for spaces where a narrative, can meander like an unchecked stream and the story can be imbedded. It will not be a duel between fact and fiction but a marriage of sorts. The reader must be seduced by the outer stretches of imagination. The ‘what ifs’ clinging to the ‘what was’. So historians like Peter Frankopan lead the pack. The Sunday Times of London has this to say
“Magnificent, swashbuckling history written with precision and verve.”
I have after many months of start and stops completed the research. My sources reveal how a country buried an inconvenient truth. I take this as an invitation to inject an element of suspense where I can add a pair of villains to my book outline. A Hercule Poirot touch and comedy thrown in for relief, praying to the Muse For a Frankopan style of precision and verve.
The notable psychological studies of human behaviour confirm that certain responses are governed entirely by environmental influences. In past centuries or decades reputations were guarded; judgments were pronounced with diplomacy in mind. So If I let down my hair and resorted to a tik-tok revelation I could create a war. Now, we have created a free for all where even Artificial Intelligence can duplicate or recreate perspective. Tempting, however I am using my own brain ,the humble laptop, the old desk and the most evil chair to sit on to add to the daily scribbles. The chair has a history which is most unworthy of being recorded. in this platform.
Global Trade routes have been named for the prime commodity of the region. From agriculture to precious metals. These are the paths to world history which are explained by Frankopan. The greatest power in antiquity was the Persian empire. Conquered lands were not only soaked in blood but their fashions emulated. Silk made in China was worn by the wealthy in Rome.
In writing historical fiction mobility of theme and style of expression notes with interest that the earliest records of history were maintained by poets and playwrights. Authors like Aeschylus and Dionysus drew the attention of Alexander of Macedonia who realized that all the power came from from the East and as he hastened to the great Persian empire of Darius.
My fledgling literary venture takes me to a land where an invading Mughal Emperor said “if there is Paradise on earth. It is this. It is this.” . My task is to create a road made silken by the beauty of prose, the gut punch of betrayal and the great necessity for diversion.