History Speaks Volumes (Or Should)
- nancyburkhalter
- 12 minutes ago
- 2 min read
Historical novels blend fact with fiction. The fiction part is up to you—how you use your characters in your book to advance the plot or action. The facts are nonnegotiable, meaning you should provide enough true information about your characters’ quotidian lives to make them come alive. Earlier, I wrote about PERSIA—a framework for worldbuilding. The categories—political, economic, religious, social, intellectual, and arts. They provide historical context for your characters' world.
But there are finer points to consider beyond what PERSIA covers.
For instance, what did they wear? That may seem obvious, but you must also consider social station. My character, Delhomme, was a piano tuner,* so, I had to ensure he wore clothes befitting both his trade and social class.
Next, what did they eat? This would depend on the season, of course, and the cost of the foodstuffs. In one scene, my piano tuner visits his nephew in an orphanage. Lunch was grim: gruel, biscuits, and pudding on Sundays.
Third, what did their house or living quarters look like? Did they sit on the floor? A throne? A red-leather Chesterfield sofa?
The last one—art—can reveal taste, wealth, or even a character’s inner world. For instance, Franz Mesmer** pondered two paintings that represented opposing views of love. Jean Watteau’s The Anxious Lover portrayed a hesitant, milksop suitor while Peter Paul Ruben’s Pastoral Scene depicted a passionate, too-forward admirer. The contrast counseled him to find a happy medium.
Each detail creates a verbal time machine, transporting readers into the era you’ve imagined. As my writing teacher urged, “Take me there.” Paint a picture so I feel the raindrops, taste the pie, luxuriate on a pink-silk upholstered settee as I admire Rembrandt’s The Return of the Prodigal Son.
*The Education of Delhomme: Chopin, Sand, and La France. (2000). historythroughfiction.com
**Mesmer: Tale of a Medical Maverick. (In review).
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