Hi Pablo,

Thank you for reading and responding to my essay. I must confess, you may be a more learned person than I, for I have not heard of the theorists you mentioned, but thank you for bringing them into the discourse. I’ll look them up when I have a chance.

I think I at least partially understand what you’re saying, but feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. I think you may be concerned that I am advocating for throwing away history as a social science in favor of a purely emotional approach. I painted with broad strokes in my essay, so I could understand why you might think that. However, I am not arguing against more traditional or alternative historical perspectives, merely describing my own experience.

That experience, I hasten to add, of needing to feel more than understand, specifically pertains to my creative writing endeavors, particularly writing historical fiction. I think there is a much-deserved high respect held for objective, value-neutral attempts to understand ourselves, our past, and our place in the world. I value those perspectives so much that I spent the better part of five years obtaining a degree in the social sciences (and anthropology in particular).

However, as my little tangent in the essay may or may not make clear, I think there is too much emphasis on the strictly “factual,” and people are obsessed with (and consume literature that promotes) the concept of literal and universal truth. A byproduct of this obsession, is that fiction gets short shrift. People have told me they refuse to read fiction because “it’s not true, so why waste my time.” They completely misunderstand the reality is that there is no Truth with a capital “T.” There are many kinds of truth. Fiction reveals aspects of human experience that nothing else can.

It saddens me that so many writers of historical fictions wring their hands and sweat bullets over a narrow, rigid attempt to hew to the “facts” as closely as they can, or to only linger in the realm (of what they consider) plausibility. They miss the point entirely, and their fiction reveals a paucity of imagination and insight. And it also begs the question of relevance: why would try to exactly re-create something without adding anything new? It seems like a pointless exercise.

I contend that humor, gravitas, playfulness, and imagination can coexist in historical fiction, and that in the right combination they can lead to a work that is a pleasure to read. Most people will immediately dismiss my work as ridiculous and absurd, because it includes bigfoot, unicorns, and science fiction elements. But that doesn’t bother me, because in their lack of imagination they are dismissing my subject matter; they aren’t judging me based on my writing. People who take the time to read through this novel in progress with find humor and imagination, but they may also be surprised by the depth of historical detail I’ve added, for the sake of authenticity (and because I like doing research). They might also be surprised to discover that, despite the fantasy elements, there is also a degree of plausibility to the story because of my concern with precision and attention to the smallest details.

I do realize that this perspective is not shared by many. People write historical fiction for a variety of reasons — but I think many peoples’ secret wish is to be told how “accurate” their work is, basically how good of a researcher they are. My no-longer-secret wish is to push creative imagination to its limits, whilst simultaneously maintaining an entertaining and readable book. To do this, the story must supersede its historical aspects. Authenticity of setting and tone is important, no question. But even more important is the authenticity of the characters. To give them their souls, I need to see through their eyes and feel with their hearts. This is why I so strong emphasize a tactile, kinesthetic, experiential feeling of historical moments — as opposed to merely an intellectual understanding of time, place, and events.

This was a very wordy reply, Pablo! I hope I have correctly understood and intelligently responded to your comments. If not, the fault lies with me. Again, thank you for your thoughtful response.