What are your least favorite successful historical fiction novels, and why?

Cafe Society
1

For me—

I started to say The Da Vinci Code but decided not to dignify it by calling it historical fiction. Instead I’ll say

Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett

I have no idea why this thing was such a runaway bestseller or why some people (who clearly have never studied medieval history more in depth than a trip to a Renaissance Faire) make such comments as “it makes you feel like you are there!”

For those who haven’t read it, it’s about the building of a Gothic cathedral in England during the time of Stephen/Maude and Henry I and spans about 1140-1170. It does a good job in describing the architectural process of building a Cathedral (though David Macauley does it better with pictures in much less space) but in the process it has every cliche of bad historical fiction:

— The noblewoman in an arranged engagement to a man she doesn’t love (more than one actually)- okey dokey, not saying it was an ideal thing, but this was the norm; even FIDDLER ON THE ROOF set many centuries later does a far better job of portraying the arranged marriage culture.

— Snidely Whiplash villains: one is a serial rapist and Follett describes in detail every rape he commits, and his mother is not only evil but covered with warts, while the corrupt bishop would make Alan Rickman’s Sheriff of Nottingham look nuanced

— Every hero, of course, is wonderful and handsome, and every heroine is beautiful and has gorgeous flowing hair (this is a medieval England with lots of shampoo and conditioner and a strange embargo on wimples)

— Lots of period setting sex scenes (I’m not saying that premarital and extramarital sex didn’t happen, but I doubt it was that romantic or that common in a time/place where people didn’t bathe, there was little to no privacy, no birth control that was at all reliable, and STDs could be fatal)

— A woman is seen as a witch because she wants to read and questions the teachings of the church (what exactly she finds to read since she lives in the woods far from any monasteries is uncertain)

—Another character who has artistic talent from a young age becomes a master sculptor in a matter of months (okay, drawing- maybe; sculpting stone and marble, that’s something you’ve got to study- even Michelangelo had some do-overs)

And then just the general sin of presentism: the good guys all seem to have 20th century (when it was written) morality when it comes to love, sex, religious tolerance, etc… That’s one of the ways you know they’re good guys, along with the fact they’re all beautiful.

And the complete lack of understanding of the material culture: there’s a scene where a noblewoman, on her way from being graphically raped by the man she was betrothed to but didn’t love (no exaggeration) asks a peasant woman who takes her in for a spare dress. Okey dokey… even in Colonial America before the advent of textile mills, a single dress would probably cost more [adjusted for inflation] than a middle class woman’s entire wardrobe today if she bought it; more likely she’d have made it by spinning and weaving the wool and it would represent weeks of very hard labor. It’s highly unlikely that even if somehow this peasant woman had owned a spare dress she’d have given it to a stranger. I mention this because it stuck in my mind at the time and is but one example of “this guy knows nothing of medieval times that didn’t come from a Medeival Times restaurant”

But don’t get me wrong: I couldn’t stand this book.

COLD MOUNTAIN

Another one that struck me as very untrue in many places, though not as bad as the above. Again, the presentism that pervaded the characters in their amazingly enlightened views was irksome as was the fact that so many people who were poor and backwoods (like Ruby- played in the movie by Renee Zelleweggar) could read and write (I know that America was more literate than most countries but not nearly as much in the Appalachians and not among the poorest classes).
The book was supposed to be a retelling of the Odyssey (this is by the author’s admission) but he soon deviated from that course, and you can almost tell exactly the point where he said “Nah…” because he’s not exactly gifted in adapting the times. The main male character Inman (Odysseus) deserts the Confederacy to wander home to Ada (Penelope), the beloved he barely knows and has any number of delaying misadventures. He finally arrives back in Cold Mountain sometime in early 1865.
Cold Mountain and the surrounding community have been taken over by the Snidely Whiplash Irregulars who form the Home Guard and run around killing deserters, confiscating property from deserter’s families, and generally terrorizing the area and using it at their fiefdom. Another big WRONG!
Deserters were indeed a huge problem on both sides in the Civil War, so much so that the USA and the CSA both had amnesty programs. (The CSA especially wanted the deserters back more than they wanted them killed because unlike the north they couldn’t get ready replacements.) One of the worst problems in apprehending them was that the Home Guard was made of men who had military exemptions either due to age (older than 45 or younger than 18) and or family obligations (usually many children relying on them for support) and or health (blind in one eye or arthritis type stuff- could still ride a horse or fire a gun but couldn’t march or be worth much on a battlefield). Deserters on the other hand were usually men in the prime of their life agewise (18-45) who were armed and experienced in killing other men (or in getting away from them).
By 1865, when the climax of the book comes, desertion in the Confederate forces was taking far more men than battle casualties. There were so many in some places that the deserters walked and rode in gangs (literally in gangs sometimes- many of the western and midwestern gangs got their start as CSA outlaws) on main roads in broad open daylight. The Home Guard would probably have passed them by and pretended not to even see them by this time because in a showdown the Home Guard would have been the one more likely to die, and this was particularly true in Appalachia and other regions where there were few slaves and the men were never that particularly anxious to fight in the first place. (Had it taken place in 1862 it would perhaps have been more believable, but by 1865 pretty much everybody knew the war was lost AND the Home Guard knew that the CSA government was completely powerless and that anybody they pissed off [as the Home Guard in this novel does] was somebody they were about to have to reckon with in peacetime.

And then there’s the cliche of the hyper fertile doomed hero who manages to impregnate the heroine with the one time they make love which is hours before he dies

So anyway, don’t feel compelled to write anything as lengthy as those, but what are some of your least favorite historical novels and why?

2

Oh, I didn’t even have to think about this. The Alienist, by Caleb Carr. And it was definitely very successful.

My biggest issue with it is the so called “historical research” that presumably went into it. I remember when it came out, it was a big deal that Carr was an historian, which seems like stretching things a lot because he has a BA in history which is all very nice but hardly some lofty scholastic achievement, plus his area of specialty is military history, which doesn’t come up very much in this book. Of course, people without advanced degrees in history can still engage in solid research. Yet upon reading this book, it was obvious to me that the level of historical detail was pretty basic. Certainly not every person would be familiar with the things he wrote about. However, any person with even a vaguely passing interest in this time period would find no surprises here.

FOR EXAMPLE, every five minutes, the cast of characters is dining at Delmonico’s, which is probably the most famous historic New York City restaurant in, er, history. If there was a book called “The Most Basic Things You Need To Know About The History of New York City,” there would be a picture of Delmonico’s on the front cover. Seriously, you wouldn’t even have to open the book. It’s like the guy started doing research one afternoon, read about Delmonico’s in the first five minutes, and then said “Whoa, cool, done with my research!” He’s supposedly a (ooooh) HISTORIAN, and Delmonico’s is the best he can do? And Delmonico’s references account for about 87% of the mentions of “ye olde New York” in this book.

Then, the characters themselves … apparently It’s a Small World, After All because we’ve got a woman, Jewish people, a black guy, a Chinese kid (actually, the Chinese kid might be from the sequel) … and I get that the point is that they’re all (caution: subtle theme) alienated from mainstream society, but come on. They’ve made a secret club? That solves crimes? They are alienated secret crime solvers?

And it’s amazing how good they are at solving crimes. Their fearless leader, The Alienist, invents modern crime solving at a rate that rivals the ingenuity of Ayla, prehistoric technology inventor. Wow, put those two together, and they’d knock out cold fusion in about three days. It was also cringe-making at the part in the book where Carr apparently realized The Alienist was possibly channeling Horatio Caine too much, because he shoehorns in a rare theory that doesn’t pan out. Just one, though, he’s right back in the saddle with his crafty crime-solving ways after that.

However, there is one bright spot, which is that The Alienist inspired a little activity my friends and I indulge in, which we call “TR Ex Machina.” When faced with a dull, unrealistic, or simply awful book or movie, we reinvent the ending in such a way that it involves Theodore Roosevelt showing up out of nowhere, kicking ass and taking names. I assert than almost any work of average or below average quality is vastly improved by the addition of TR Ex Machina.

Then the sequel

Ended the same way! With the arrival of Teddy Roosevelt! Carr used TR Ex Machina in two books! In a perverse way, I’m giving him credit for dancing with the guy that brought him, you know?

3

A friend and I each came to the same conclusion independently about the passages in the book where cathedral architecture is being described: they read quite differently to other parts of the book, and sound very much like they are copied word for word out of some architectural guidebook or cathedral tourist’s pamphlet.

I don’t think they could actually be word for word, because someone would have yelled “plagiarism” about it by now if they were, but my bet is that they are close paraphrases.

4

I kind of liked Pillars of the Earth, just as absolute mind candy (there was something amazingly compelling about it, even though I knew everything about it was terrible). It’s pretty clear that the only thing Follett researched was architecture, which doesn’t surprise me; it’s akin to the war novels that have all the details about weaponry and strategy scarily accurate but have no idea about the social context in which the war took place. But, I mean, it’s Ken Follett, author of mediocre spy novels - I wasn’t expecting The Name of the Rose! (And I didn’t want it, either, at that time - there’s a time and place for everything.)

The presence of premarital sex didn’t really bother me, though. The Middle Ages were pre-Puritanical in their sexual mores, and the clergy were generally not very deeply involved in private lives. Marriage had, after all, only become a church institution shortly before the book was set. I don’t doubt that the main characters, whose names I can’t remember because they are utterly forgettable, would have had sex - but the idea of her setting out across the continent to find her baby daddy is beyond laughable. I guess that’s why I liked the book - it was so funny!

And don’t get me started on the “she was a witch because she wanted to read and learn!” that’s so common. One day I’m going to write a novel about a man who was accused of witchcraft (15% of those either accused or executed were male). Or a slovenly housewife who was accused because her neighbour, who truly, completely believed in witches (we always think that it was some conspiracy - no, people actually believed), thought she looked at her cow funny. Except that the latter would make a boring novel. And I guess that’s why no one has written it. :smiley: (A story of a male witch might actually be interesting. And then I have to write my novel about my recanting sixteenth-century martyr…)

5

I don’t normally read fiction, ESPECIALLY historical fiction, because I prefer my history neat. Gave The Killer Angels a try since, God knows, the Civil War is a personal fave. Put it down after too few pages because, as a person who has had to work under pressure, I know that personal thoughts get shunted aside in the heat of whatever.

I got 30 pages from the end of *The Alienist *when I realized that, though I was into the period and was half enjoying it, I had stopped caring about any of the characters. REAL people whose real personalities I had found interesting. This? not enough to waste another few minutes (an hour–I read slowly) over. My reaction to a couple Philip K Dick books, too.

6

My daughter’s go-to answer when playing Jeopardy is Roosevelt. Amazing how often it’s the right answer.

I didn’t care for Pillars of the Earth either, for the reasons already mentioned. But my least favorite successful historical fiction novel is Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. Having to look up so many words made it a real slog for me. Give me some context, dammit! After seeing the movie version, I was sad that I couldn’t get into the book. What a great story.

7

One of the biggest burns I ever read in a book review was for The Alienist. I don’t remember the critic or the magazine, but they commented on the wooden dialogue with “there’s not a spoken line in the entire book that can’t be diagrammed by a middle school English class”.

8

“No one expects… Teddy Roosevelt!” from The Alienist reminds me of one of biggest pet peeves with bad historical fiction, which is historical namedropping. I’m obviously not referring to novels in which historical figures are the main characters but the novels in which the main characters are just contemporaries to the dropped names.

The vast majority of people in any century from the 21st back to the hominids rarely are on first name basis with anyone famous in their life; if they ever do interact with anyone famous, it’s usually formally and briefly. For example, it’s not at all impossible to believe that a woman may have had an audience with President Lincoln during the Civil War since he was accessible to the public, but it would have been a “wham, bam, here’s your son’s pardon, thank you ma’am” type deal, same as a private’s interaction with his commanding general Washington or Patton or a commoner catching a glimpse of the king or queen. There are novels however where the main character seemingly can’t walk down the street without tripping over somebody who either is or, also very popular, will be famous (you can almost hear the drum roll ala the musical 1776 when they say “Who was that strange man?” "Oh, that’s Mr. Edison, keeps saying something about a new kind of light he’s making’ crap.)

The worst offender with this, even though I really liked his novels when I was a teenager, was John Jakes. First in The Kent Family Chronicles- the family patriarch saves the life of the Marquis de la Fayette in the first chapter of the series, then goes on to be a close bud of Ben Franklin, George Washington, half the Continental Congress, Van Steuben, etc., and every one of his descendants continues the tradition. Perhaps the cheesiest is when a granddaughter (or great-granddaughter) in one of the later books is for some reason I forget stranded in a blizzard and taken in by a kindly farm family and repays them by teaching their bright son “Little Abraham” his letters. The same character is later at the Alamo.

NORTH & SOUTH- same story (though I only read part of the first one, you can see on the imdb for the miniseries). The main characters go to West Point so it’s believable they’d interact with later Civil War generals- in fact that’s not such a bad place to put fictional characters for that purpose (except the truly great West Point graduate Civil War generals were a bit scattered in time), but they also manage to interact with Harriet Beecher Stowe, the Booths, John Brown, Lincoln, and probably Jack the Ripper and Mrs. Roosevelt’s little boy Teddy before it’s over.

GONE WITH THE WIND is one of my favorite books, and it wasn’t the first bestselling novel about a plantation belle, and the novel itself is actually well researched and not particularly romanticized, but it did set off such a firestorm that still continues. Where the notion that "The Old South"™ was at all romantic is beyond me: heat, malaria, violence by and against Indians, very hard work for anyone who wasn’t stinking rich, isolation, briers, rattlesnakes, and then of course slavery- yeah, sounds like a little Disney World franchise, but there’s seldom a year that goes by without a new one added to the mix. (My own historical fiction would focus on the non-hoop skirt wearing folks who are grossly underrepresented considering they were well over 90% of the white population and 99.9% of the black population, though I doubt there’d be the ready audience as for the bodice rippers.)

9

A Place Called Freedom by…Ken Follett. I found all of the characters unlikable, including the protagonist and his Mary-Sue love interest (from the tiring Rebellious Princess mold); some of the worst dialogue and least romantic love scenes outside of a Harlequin romance novel and you get this.

Speaking of romance novels, anything by Georgette Heyer. I had heard so much praise about her, how if I liked Jane Austen, I’d like her, and the plot summaries I’d read sounded interesting. I was so excited to find a few of her novels…and then I tried reading them. I think what ruined it was her extreme overuse of the exclamation point, especially with regard to the dialogue, where it made practically everything sound melodramatic.

10

Hands down, Poldark. My grandmother adored those books, so I was really looking forward to it (saw it on video - maybe the books are better, I don’t know)

Some really egregious examples of 1930’s mores in a supposedly late 18th century setting. For instance, the main heroine comes on the scene when she’s rescued by the hero from a severe beating by a shopkeeper who she’s robbed. And later on a minor character is sentenced to two years for poaching. In both cases we’re clearly meant to sympathise with the harsh treatment meted out to the culprits, which is fair enough, except that the supposedly 18th century characters around them also seem to consider the above treatment harsh and, lets face it, in the real 18th century anyone found stealing anything would consider themselves damn lucky not to be dancing the hemp fandango in short order.

Also the bit where the hero’s spinster sister is going to elope with her paramour, not for any particular reason since he doesn’t seem to be disapproved of by her family but just to assert her freedom or something - I could never quite figure it out. Without, apparently, taking any notice of the overwhelming amount of social disapproval and possible ostracism it would cause her.

11

Thank you. That annoyed me from the get-go about Carr.

12

I’m a sucker for anything related to the British monarchy, but I couldn’t make it all the way through Katherine by Anya Seton. The beginning was interesting, but it became incredibly dull after about 200 pages as author went into excruciating detail about the most mundane things. Perhaps my expectations were too high, but I did not see what all the fuss was about.

13

I was going to vent about Pillars of the Earth, but you pretty much did it for me. Thanks.

14

With regards to historical namedropping, you kind of get to the point where you enjoy it in movies - I get a little disappointed if 19th Century London Soundstage doesn’t incidentally have Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper in it sometimes. :slight_smile:

15

Does Jean Auel’s The Clan of the Cave Bear series count as historical fiction? I read a couple of these a while back while I was holed up in a hotel waiting out some bad weather. They were among the few paperbacks available.

Who knew the cave men all (or at least the *good *cave men) had really nice hair, and were really, really in touch with their feelings, and would happily sit around for hours discussing said feelings with the women in their lives?

16

While this does bother me, I must confess to having a soft spot for the use of extremely slightly famous real historical figures. I love reading a book that has Francis Robbins Upton (for example) as a minor character, and then later finding out that he was a real person (an engineer or possibly a mathematician – you can see how up I am on this) who worked with Edison at Menlo Park.

17

You can blame people like me for the success of Pillars of the Earth. I want you to know that I don’t take it as an accurate period piece; I took it as a thousand pages of fun ride. In my goodreads review, I even referenced Snidely Whiplash (the other obvious way to picture Waleran Bygod is Gargamel, but for some reason he was Snidely Whiplash in my mind - child of the early 70’s).

At any rate, I apologize to real historical fiction fans. Partly my fault.

18

A former boss of mine wanted to write a series of novels where the main characters were a family who befriended all of the villains of American history and made all the wrong choices and always backed the wrong horses.

19

:slight_smile: I do think that’s part of the reason Pillars of the Earth is so popular; people who don’t usually read historical fiction picked it up and enjoyed it for the novelty factor.
I despise Philippa Gregory. She’s really popular right now, and her writing style isn’t bad, but her take on Anne Boleyn (that she was actually guilty of the crimes she was executed for, like incest and witchcraft) makes me furious. Why does the woman feel the need to invent more drama for the Tudors? And now she’s about to get started on the Plantagenets. It makes me nauseated to even think about it.

20

So…the American version of Blackadder?