History as fiction; fiction as truth

“History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it.” So said Winston Churchill, and he did write it — in numerous volumes, as it turned out. Although not every historian is as comfortable as he was in admitting it, history cannot offer a single narrative or an invariable truth. Point of view comes into it, and different writers have vastly divergent perspectives on the same events.

Indeed, the most recent course I offered through Simon Fraser University Continuing Education was called Learning History by Reading Mystery. But for the pandemic, that course would have been repeated, the only one I’ve offered so far to be selected for this honour. The readings reflects my long-held view that reading good fiction is more educational and enlightening than perusing dry lists of historic facts. Until recently, I have never been able to articulate exactly why I hold this view. Now I think I know.

Well-researched fiction and fiction based in times, places and zeitgeists experienced by the writer are doorways into worlds we cannot inhabit in any other way. And the best thing is that by comparing fictional portrayals of other times and places with contemporary points of view, readers of quality fiction gain a breadth of perspective inaccessible to non-readers, and even to readers who stick to non-fiction.

And then of course, our brains are programmed for story. Brains just love narratives. And narratives abound.

Want to learn about WWI? Read Pat Barker’s Regeneration Trilogy. About life in post-apartheid South Africa? Read Kagise Lesogo Molope. About contemporary life in Shanghai? Read Qiu Xiaolong. About the Troubles in Ireland and their long-term social societal consequences? Among the many brilliant books written on this, Anna Burns, Stuart Neville, Robert McLiam Wilson, Adrian McKinty, and Michelle Gallen stand out for me.