Children's Lit/Young Adult

Recently, I've been reading some books written for younger audiences. Although they aren't as complicated thematically as some other books I've been reading, they deserve a post on here. I'm a little backstocked as far as books are concerned...

I've been reading stuff like Light in the Forest, different Redwall books, Men of Iron--some old classics of my childhood, some newer additions.

One thing that I've found about children's historical fiction: simplicity. In some ways, this simplicity can hurt a historical novel, but most of the time, it really helps. It seems to really get at the question, "what about history really interests people? What makes a really good story?"

We public historians need to continually ask those kinds of questions, and not be afraid to simplify, pair down, and omit material for the sake of brevity and the ability to be understood. Children's literature can teach us a lot, as we all tend to get lost in our detailed analyses and deep-probing "grown-up" history texts.

Isn't our job as public historians to repackage history for the public?

Jude the Obscure

I've enjoyed other Hardy novels, but this one was definitely my favorite of the ones I've read. It's true that I mainly read Hardy because his work is often about Oxford. Jude, it seems, had a similar lifelong dream as one of mine--to receive a degree from the University of Oxford (or Christminster, in the actual book).

The book basically follows the ill-fated life of Jude Fawley, who taught himself Latin, Greek, theology, etc, just so he could win a place at Christminster. He was, however, a commoner, and therefore had no way to enter a "Christminster" college. He trained himself in the art of masonry and stonecarving, and was divorced and then lived with his divorced cousin out of wedlock, having children with her. He finally returns drunken to his first wife, and dies of consumption/lung disease. Not the best set of qualifications for a successful life in Late Victorian England.

The book is overall not super useful for a broad, sweeping application to history, but Hardy's social commentary is brilliant. He turns the institution of marriage on its head, exploring what marriage really is. He is critical of religion and of the Late Victorian Oxford system. Overall though, Hardy's work is not really one that simply criticizes and tears down systems/institutions (as so many writers do), but one that causes the reader to think. After reading it, I personally developed an even stronger devotion to the Church-sanctioned institution of marriage and greater drive to accomplish my own goal of an Oxford degree.

So, not a great work for understanding the writing of history, but still a worthwhile, if depressing, read.

One Hundred Years of Solitude

I'm going to begin posting on this blog with a little analysis of one of the best books I've read in a long time: Gabriel Garcia-Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. From a literary perspective, this book is absolutely brilliant, and is both entertaining and introspective. One Hundred Years is also important and fresh from a historical perspective.

One of Garcia-Marquez's greatest strengths is the way he structures and exploits the traditional Western concept of linear time. This work is primarily cyclical, almost like a classical or Celtic notion of historical progression. The events that shape the characters repeat, creating a pattern within the Buendia family. Generations mirror each other, and enduring traits, both good and bad, become almost a requirement for the next generation. Each male character mentioned either bears resemblance to Colonel Aureliano Buendia, or to his father, Jose Arcadio Buendia (the patriarch). Female characters are more variable, but also are based on either acceptance of social order or rebellion against the social order. This cyclical model is important for historians to understand, because although most of us agree on a linear model of human time, there are many time periods where people believed in cyclical timeframes, and to some degree, many people still live according to a cyclical interpretation of time. This will be commented on more in another post, but for now, I'm still working out this question of cyclical/linear time as applied to historical writing.

Garcia-Marquez also uses a linear model in conjunction with his cyclical time pattern (within . He discusses the town of Macondo from its mythical founding by Jose Arcadio Buendia to its utter destruction after 100 years. The town moves through definite historical periods, from an idealized colonized past to an exploited and finally dilapidated and ignominious end. In my opinion, Macondo stands for Colombia itself. From the ancient past, represented by the preserved galleon, through the civil wars, to Garcia-Marquez's present (mid 20th century U.S. exploitation and imperialism), the author uses Macondo to point out social ills by no means limited to Colombia or even South America. The chilling end of Macondo with the four years of rain and the final destruction of the town through complete and utter neglect and apathy, brought about by endless cycles of solitude, gives Garcia-Marquez's prediction for the future of his nation. Garcia-Marquez's book can help historians to understand a native perspective and the feeling of impotence and rage that accompanies a people exploited and misused by a greater power. Novels have a definite historical context, and no writer is ever divorced entirely from his own historical context. Historians must be sure to remember that literature itself is a historical source--not for events and dates, but for the history of feelings and humanity (which I believe to be much more important for historians than dry dates--we are historians of humanity, not of some pseudoscience).

The rich inner life of the characters is yet another strength that can be used by historians. One problem with historical writing is that historians refuse to make historical figures into believable characters. The essential human element is removed from history, out of fear of misrepresenting the past. Isn't representing human characters (that really lived) as simply words on a page or the sum of events just as misrepresentative? While moving into the kind of fictitious detail that is the substance of Garcia-Marquez's writing is not possible for historians hoping to maintain any kind of accuracy, writers can learn from this kind of chronicle of the inner life and apply some of the methods to the historical genre.

Until I read Garcia-Marquez in Spanish, I cannot comment on how his actual prose can help historians to write better history. I know that I cared about the characters, I wept for them, and laughed for them, and that in academic historical writing, that kind of immersion is unthinkable.

One Hundred Years of Solitude is a wonderful book, and I heartily recommend it to any historian who wishes to push the boundaries of their understanding of time and wants to make their characters more believable. I know that this book will affect my historical writing this coming semester, and that, as I develop my understanding of time, I will begin to apply more and more of Garcia-Marquez's masterpiece to my own writing and thinking.

~Ted

Introduction

As a public historian, I have been taught to analyze how people are "doing" history and discuss the effectiveness of different methods. Writing is one of the most important parts of any academic discipline, and the writing of academic history is often abysmal.

This past semester, I began reading through a variety of classic novels, in addition to my required reading for graduate school. I found that, as I read, I was able to incorporate some of the authors' specific narrative skills into my academic writing; this made my writing so much better. This blog is designed to discuss and question how these books might be applied to help historians write history better.

Historians often will rack their brains to find out how to apply new technology and how to increase user interest in historical institutions, but just keep emulating each other in their academic tone and style. Some historians, like Simon Schama and Laurel Ulrich Thatcher have realized that they need to do something drastic with the actual prose of their works if they are to reach a broader audience.