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352 pages, Hardcover
First published March 9, 2001
... two Jamesean pronouncements, copied out on three-by-five cards. One reads, "The historical novel is, for me condemned ... to a fatal cheapness." The other is, "The sense of the past is our sense." How - no matter which target, in the end, one more nearly hits - to shoot toward the latter and a way from the former is a question any writer working with historical material must consider, for at the heart of the matter is the difference between The Scarlet Pimpernel and The Scarlet Letter.John Lukacs:
… every novel is a historical novel … the present, all-too-evident, intrusion of history into fiction is an even newer phenomenon – surely connected with the present crisis, and the eventual reformation, of the novel. A manifestation of this is not only the so-called documentary or docudrama but the new hybrid thing that has the silly name of “faction”. All kinds of writers have been trying this (Upton Sinclair, Dos Passos, Irwin Shaw, Capote, Styron, Barth, Doctorow, Mailer, Sontag, DeLillo, Vidal, Pynchon, in this country, many others abroad, including Solzhenitsyn in 1914, his least valuable book). What is significant is that these novelists are, all, interested in history. They have reversed the historical novel, where history was the colorful background: for these twentieth-century writers history is the foreground, since that is what attracts them. Yes, that is a symptom of the continuing evolution of a historical consciousness. But most of these writers don’t really know that, which is why their books are flawed: for they illegitimately mix up history and fiction. They include and twist and deform and attribute thoughts and words and acts to historical figures (Lincoln or Wilson or Roosevelt or Kennedy) who actually existed. This is illegitimate, and antihistorical – no matter that some academic historians say that it serves salutary purposes, since it introduces all kinds of people to history, after all. They are wrong. What they ought to recognize, rather, is the untrammeled spreading of a historical consciousness whereby it is indeed possible that in the future the novel may be entirely absorbed by history, feeding the famished appetites of readers for what really happened, for a past that was real, for how men and women really were, how they acted and spoke and thought at a certain time - a time that may include the near-present.