I've been
thinking a lot recently about the places where fantasy and history overlap, and
in particular about the strange things that sometimes happen when our stories revise
the past by making the painful parts of history otherwise.
Making
things otherwise is a desire very
much at the heart of most writing, of course. It's pretty much the essence of
fiction! In real life, we can't tweak what has already happened--we can't, in
real life, heal wounds inflicted hundreds of years ago by one human being on
another. But in fiction, we can. And so, we do. It strikes me that sometimes I
find these twisted histories satisfying and moving--and sometimes the fictional
mending of the past unsettles me. Loopholes, it seems, can have unintended
side-effects.
I was
recently quite moved by a historical fantasy by H. M. Bouwman, A CRACK IN THE
SEA (2017), which is explicitly about loopholes, about "a crack in the
sea" that allows doomed and desperate people from our world--Africans
thrown overboard from slavers' ships, Vietnamese refugees whose boats are
damaged by pirates and then sink--to travel to another world, where the water is sweet and people are very few.
As Heather
Bouwman explains in her very thoughtful Afterword, the inspiration for this
book was the true, awful history of the Zong,
a ship transporting enslaved human beings across the Atlantic Ocean: in 1781
the men sailing this ship threw 133 living people, men, women, and children, into
the ocean to drown, so that the owners of the ship could collect insurance
payments on the lost "cargo." One of the characters in Bouwman's story,
a girl named Venus, comes from the Zong;
the story of A CRACK IN THE SEA, as the author explains, had its origins in a
longing to change what can't actually be changed:
"And the
Zong is the heart and soul of my book
. . . . [F]or me, the story first became alive with Venus--with my feeling that
she had to escape, somehow, from this
terrible historical fact, this thing from which, in real life, there was no
escape."
From my
perspective, the power of a historical fantasy like A CRACK IN THE SEA depends
very much on the reader knowing that
what he or she is reading is a counter-factual wish, that in real life, these
real people died terribly--and we wish so much that that could be otherwise that we are willing to write
stories in which something else happens. What happens, however, when a student
who doesn't know about the real history of the Zong--or the real history of the Vietnamese refugees in the late
1970s--reads this story? Perhaps the effect is quite different.
Other books go to bleak moments in human history and make them positively blithe, however. Remember the opening pages of J. K. Rowling's THE
PRISONER OF AZKABAN (1999)?
"Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down
the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his
essay, 'Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely
Pointless--discuss.'
The quill
paused at the top of a likely-looking paragraph. Harry pushed his round glasses
up the bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the book, and read:
'Non-magic people (more commonly known as
Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good
at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or
wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a
basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying
a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned
so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in
various disguises.'"
This description gave me a bit
of a jolt the first time I read it, to be honest, and now that I've gone back
to find it again, I understand better the reason for the jolt. The account here
is jolly and lighthearted, but on the other side of this fictional lens (on the
other side of this "otherwise") lies some pretty awful historical
stuff, real people whose suffering had nothing at all in common with
"gentle, tickling sensations." It's humorless of me to state the
obvious this way, isn't it? But bear with me: I'm trying to figure out what
makes some fantastical reworkings of history cut deeper than others.
It seems to me that whereas A CRACK IN THE SEA focuses on the poignancy of the
"otherwise" (by keeping the "terrible historical fact"
close by, even while the fantastical loophole is opened), THE PRISONER OF
AZKABAN puts more weight on the loophole, and lets the historical fact float
away.
Have you
read any historical fantasy recently? What effect did it have on you? Have you
encountered stories in which the "wish that the world were otherwise"
particularly moved you? Does a purely humorous approach to rewriting history
unsettle you at all, or do you merely find it refreshing? (A good recent example of
history rewritten for comic effect might be MY LADY JANE, by the witty trio of Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, Jodi Meadows; in this novel Lady Jane Grey turns out to have been at the heart of various romantic and magical
plots--and gets a happy ending, very unlike her historical fate.)
So perhaps what I am discovering is that I am most satisfied when some trace of the tragic historical fact remains, even if veiled, in the counterfactual rewriting--the tension between fact and wish can then work a very powerful and poignant magic of its own. I
am very curious to hear your thoughts, however--on historical fantasy, on loopholes, and
on wishing the world were otherwise....