I have so enjoyed immersing myself in historical fiction lately. 
Some books I’ve read as a kind of catch-up to the genre, some have been for book clubs, and some I’ve picked up simply on the recommendation of friends. What a broad spectrum — definitely not limited to the bodice-ripper British romances that I pilfered as a tween from houses where I babysat. (Hey, I returned them.) Not that there’s anything wrong with a steamy paperback, every now and then. C’mon, you know. But, wow, there is so much more.
I just finished Madeline Miller’s new The Song of Achilles, which was a lyrical delight of rich emotion, fantastic creatures, and perfectly modern characters anchored in an even more ancient context than my 2500 year-old Cyrus the Great and company. In a word, it was beautiful.
A super long layover in recent travel gave me reason to indulge in The Dovekeepers. Oh, the trials Alice Hoffman puts her women through at a particularly fraught moment in Jewish history, the famously heroic and tragic holdout on Masada’s great cliffs. Inspiring and heart-breaking. Don’t tell me what happens. I know how it ends; but how these characters will get there is so captivating and suspenseful. “Harrowing,” Toni Morrison says.
My Virginia book club recently read O.E. Rolvaag’s Giants in the Earth, which really took me back — to reading it in my twenties on the plains of southern Minnesota. I was thrilled to hear that others deeply enjoyed and could relate each in her way to this tale of Norwegian immigrants in South Dakota a century ago. Rolvaag’s descriptions of the look of the sky, the prairie, the long long view,… and the effect of that, the blizzards, the locusts, the foreignness and friends on individuals, especially Beret and Per Hansa — all riveting.
Mary Renault. I had read Persian Boy shortly after allowing that my writing about Cyrus would be fiction. So when I attended the Historical Novel Society (HNS) meeting in London, I was not surprised to hear her name frequently and the epithet “queen of historical fiction” to follow. Her style, more patient of detail and in-depth descriptions, may not be the norm among today’s fiction; but the stories endure, and the drama is compelling.
The novels of Geraldine Brooks are gems of compassionate insight into the people and places of all sorts of times. The People of the Book included intelligent and respectful treatment of Jewish sacred texts, March painted a picture of the Civil War that was unique even for a modern resident of the former capital of the Confederacy, and Caleb’s Crossing broke my heart with its portrayal of a crucial moment in North American history.
I confess that I don’t feel quite smart enough for Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall and dip in only now and again; but it deserves all accolades, and I love that so many people now know another side of religious and state history. And what an amazing woman Ms. Mantel is.
I find Bernard Cornwell an easier read, and I’ve gobbled his Saxon stories like caramel corn. I happened to meet the charming author in London at end of the HNS banquet when after a lot of wine I confessed that thanks to him I now know how difficult it is to cut a man’s head off, especially covered in armor and claustrophobically crowded by hopped-up soldiers.
I could hardly put down Ken Follett‘s Pillars of the Earth, and I know I wasn’t alone. So, a great big collective thanks to him not only for a great story but also for improving our upper body strength. A tome jam-packed with fascinating detail that read as swiftly as a YA vampire confection.
The genre is indeed generous enough for fantasy as well as literary fiction, mysteries, even graphic novels (Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis is a masterpiece). So this wee list is eclectic and far from complete. (Ack! you rightly ask where are Philippa Gregory, Umberto Eco, Colleen McCullough, Sigrid Unset,
… James Mitchener and Margaret Mitchell for crying out loud?!) Just some off-the-cuff ramblings of a reader reveling in a world of great stories. I’d love to hear what you’re reading and especially recommend!
