SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Recently, there was a kerfuffle about PBS's Downton Abbey's level of historicity — when a quite present-day water bottle turned up in a publicity still. The cast and crew seems to have taken the resulting outcry in stride, even posing in present-day clothing, all holding water bottles, with an "ooh, you got me!" expression on their faces.
Yes, these goofs happen. It takes a proverbial village to make a television series like Downton Abbey — or write a book, and I'm so very blessed to know historian Ronald J. Granieri, who graciously reads my manuscripts and act as historical editor, mentor, and advisor. (No, I'm not an historian, nor do I play one on TV....) He tells me he even enjoys doing it!
Professor Granieri's specialty is Germany in the 20th century and
German-American relations, with a special interest in World War II and the Cold
War, so his area of expertise is right on target for the Maggie Hope books. I'm
lucky in that Professor Granieri is so very, very accomplished ("Wicked
smaaaart" as we would say back in Boston) — his credentials include
degrees from Harvard and University of Chicago, as well as studies in
Heidelberg and Cologne in Germany. In addition to his work at the University of
Pennsylvania, he has taught at Susquehanna, Furman, Syracuse, and Temple
Universities, and is also currently Executive Director of the Center for the
Study of America and the West at the Foreign Policy Research Institute, where
he hosts the monthly interview show, Geopolitics with Granieri.
And, full disclosure, I'm also very lucky that I can call him friend — we know each other from high school in Buffalo, New York (Go Bills!) and he was at Harvard when I went to Wellesley (so I can call him Ronnie Joe and he can call me Susie).
A typical day of writing for me includes shooting Ron a Facebook message — something with little to no preamble and along the lines of, "Hey, I know this sounds crazy but..." Various questions have included everything from questions about what house an Irish-American student would live in at Harvard, to Churchill's attitudes towards India compared to his peers, to what would the name of an Austrian butler be.
And he tells me gets a kick out of my profuse thanks at the end of the Maggie Hope books, because his mother and sisters read and enjoy them — and are finally giving his interest in history some respect!
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| Jennifer Vance |
RONALD J. GRANIERI: We have a running
joke in my house: Never go to the movies with a historian. Or watch TV, or
discuss books.
It’s an
exaggeration, of course, but it does have basis in fact, especially of the
historian in question is in some way an expert on the subject of the book or TV
show or movie. You may be enjoying yourself, thinking that this or that
character or event is fascinating, but then you will look over, catch the eye
of the historian next to you, and you will see him (or her, though more likely
him) wearing an expression of mixed irritation and superiority.
Engage the
historian in conversation, and you will be in for an eye roll, a sigh, and a
comment that will begin with the dreaded word, “Actually.”
“Actually… Helen
of Troy was probably not a blonde.”
“Actually… dinosaurs and humans didn’t live on earth at
the same time.”
“Actually… no one living in Downton Abbey in the 1920s
would say, ‘I’m just sayin’…”
It's not always
that bad, of course, but I’ve been guilty of it enough in various contexts that
every so often I hear my seven-year-old son start his objections to this or
that assertion by cocking his head in a disturbingly familiar way and saying,
“Actually….”
All can be found in the fine print of the Charter For Those Who Probably Need to Calm the Hell Down and Just Enjoy A Nice Story For a Freaking Moment, God. If you feel any need to look them up, that is.
All joking aside, I
really do consider the question of factual accuracy in fictional works,
especially historical fiction, to be important. I’m a fan of works that get the
background right, even if they are not focused on providing a history lesson. Two
of the books that led me to be fascinated with Cold War Europe were by a
journalist who used his knowledge of the recent past to build fascinating
fictions, Frederick Forsyth’s early classics, The Day of the Jackal and The
Odessa File. My understanding of American history has been shaped by artful
historical novels such as Gore Vidal’s Burr
and Michael Shaara’s classic novel of Gettysburg, The Killer Angels, just as my appreciation for he complexities of
Allied planning for D-Day was enriched by reading Ken Follett’s The Eye of the Needle. (Follett’s
depiction of Winston Churchill pacing his Downing Street office and murmuring
to himself a first draft of his description of the scene for his memoirs is an
ideal example of an authorial caprice that is funnier the more you know about
the actual historical subject.)
More recently, my appreciation of Tudor England owes a lot to Hilary Mantel, who shows us just how exciting a story can be even if we know how things turn out for the main characters.
More recently, my appreciation of Tudor England owes a lot to Hilary Mantel, who shows us just how exciting a story can be even if we know how things turn out for the main characters.
The real question for me, is not whether
historical fiction can be both fun and informative (it can), but rather how
much readers, especially those with special expertise in the field or era covered
in the work, should allow their rage for accuracy to influence their
appreciation of the art. A large part of the appeal of historical fiction,
after all, is the mixture of authentic period detail with the imaginative
elements. An ideal historical fiction should have something to offer both the
expert and the novice, accuracy managed and massaged in such a way to highlight
the human background to famous periods or events. A serious and successful
author seeks to get as many details right as necessary.
That’s one reason why I
am happy to offer what advice I can when my smart famous novelist friend Susan
Elia MacNeal asks me to comment on the historical and linguistic details in her
Maggie Hope novels. No one wants to make careless errors, or open themselves up
to endless concern-trolling corrections from “fans” on the Internet. 
Nevertheless, no
reader should expect that a piece of historical fiction can or should provide a
completely accurate image of the past. Even if it were possible to offer a
perfectly accurate presentation of the historical context, the very idea that
one is introducing fictional people and events into the landscape means that
there will be some shifting in the reality. The amount of shifting depends upon
the ambitions of the creator and the nature of the work. One finds rather more
authentic historical research, for example, in Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall or Gore Vidal’s Lincoln than in Shakespeare in Love or Abraham
Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, even if all of those works offer both pleasure and
enlightenment to their enthusiasts. 
This is about more
than the difference between highbrow works and popular entertainment, or
between fiction and non-fiction. Fiction and non-fiction differ from each
other, says this firm believer in objective reality. Even the most scholarly
work by the most fair-minded historian imaginable, however, is the product of
authorial choice and the unavoidably subjective forces that drive the selection
of topics and sources. There is a huge gap between the past (everything that
happened) and history (an analysis of a particular slice of the past based on a
particular selection of materials that allow the historian to present that particular
slice).
There is a similar chasm between history constructed from the
There is a similar chasm between history constructed from the
materials and memory, which
relies on the subjective
recollection of individuals. They
are all related, and can enrich
each other, but all are different and should not be
criticized for not being what they are not intended
to be. If one seeks a complete and accurate
understanding of any historical period, she should
not be seeking one balanced book, but should
instead try to build a well-balanced library.
All of which
brings us back to the annoying notional historian we encountered at the start
of this essay. It’s certainly true that one can find anachronisms, errors, or
even conscious deception in fictional works. It’s also true that too many such
blemishes will eventually undermine the pleasure an intelligent reader will
derive from the story. Authors who want to enrich their stories or gain
additional cachet by placing them in a juicy historical context have a
responsibility to try and do justice to that context, even if their ultimate
goal is to subvert a familiar narrative.
Readers, however, also have a
responsibility to know what they are reading, and to be smart enough to take
the occasional departure from textbook accuracy in stride, especially if it serves the purposes
of the narrative. A foolish consistently, after all, is actually the hobgoblin
of little minds.
You can look it up.
SUSAN ELIA MACNEAL: Thank you, Ron, for your insights. Gentle Reds, what do you think? (Rhys, as a fellow historical mystery author, I'd love to hear your thoughts especially.)
Lovely readers, what's your opinion? Do you need your historical mysteries to be textbook accurate or do you "take the story in stride"? Please sound off in the comments!
Ronald J. Granieri is a historian and policy
analyst in the Philadelphia Area, but is actually a lot of fun at the movies.
