Historical Fiction – Page 2

Considering Bone Rattler

A Mystery Novel of Colonial America

by Eliot Paterson

Bone Rattler by Eliot Paterson is a disturbing book. It tears apart some of the cherished myths surrounding the take over of the Americas by Europeans. The book lays bare the greed and corruption of the eighteenth century settlers. In so doing, Patterson portrays the savagery on all sides of the French and Indian War, the oft forgotten precursor to Revolution.

The story follows Duncan McCallum, a Highland Scot, who lost his family in the bloody aftermath of Culloden. The story begins on a convict ship. Duncan has been sentenced to transportation and indenture in the New World. Indenture was a common occurrence in the 17th and 18th centuries, with individuals signing a contract to serve a pre-determined number of years in exchange for passage to the new world and a chance to start fresh. But self-imposed indenture was usually not nearly as harsh as the convict’s indenture. In addition, any indentured person could be sold into any kind of work. In fact, the indentured convict had no more rights or protections than an enslaved person. The primary difference, and it’s a big one, is that indenture was usually temporary.

Bone Rattler, at its core, is a murder mystery, keeping the reader guessing all the way through. For Duncan the murder and the mystery start aboard the ship when his friend is killed and Duncan saves the life of a mysterious woman. Duncan’s quest to find the murder and discover the identity of the woman lead him to a chilly discovery of the depravity ot some of the colonists.

Duncan is a product of his times and holds the same fears and prejudices toward the ‘savages’ as his countrymen do. But Duncan is himself a victim of British prejudice against the Scots, who were widely regarded as brutes and savages. Duncan is terrified of what awaits him in the wilderness of America, but he is open-minded enough to gradually recognize his folly in judgements, and to learn from his new surroundings.

What he learns astonishes him. Where he thought that the Indian captives were demoralized and suffering from the horrors they face while enslaved by the Inidans, unturned out to be complete wrong. Without given away the story, I can only say I found Duncan’s transformation both believable and satisfying.

At the beginning of the book, Duncan believes hope is the ‘deadliest thing in the world’ (1). But by the end, I find hope in the ability or at least the possibility of understanding the ‘other’. Many of the prejudices and misunderstandings that came which those early colonists remain today. Many modern Americans are still wary of strangers, ignorant of Native American beliefs, and willing to climb up on the backs of those less fortunate in order to grab more for themselves. The greed that crossed the ocean in the 17th and 18th century has not disappeared.

However, not all the colonists fit this mold, and not all people today do either. There are a good number of people both then and now reaching for understanding and justice. This book is worth reading, if only for the example Duncan provides that working toward a better world is not futile.

Thoughts on Remarkable Creatures

A Novel by Tracy Chevalier

The Audio recording of Remarkable Creatures, narrated by Charlotte Parry and Susan Lyons

In 1823, Mary Anning found the world’s first complete fossilized plesiosaur on the beach in Lyme-Regis, England. Some discoveries are momentous, so important that the new knowledge extends far beyond the scientific community. Such discoveries challenge even ordinary peoples’ view of ‘how things are’ with the capacity to unravel their understanding of the fabric of life. People resist such tidal waves of thought, and often vilify, ignore, deride, and disbelieve the harbingers of such discoveries. Mary’s discovery was just such a world-changer.

Remarkable Creatures tells the story of the events leading up to Mary’s find and what happened after. It’s the story of a remarkable woman at a time when women were not meant to be remarkable.

In the early nineteenth century, most people in Europe had an absolute belief in the literal interpretation of the Biblical account of creation. Mary Anning’s discovery made it impossible to ignore the fact of changes to God’s creation. It was proof of the previous existence of animals that no longer existed. It was proof of extinction. Some people held that such beliefs were a direct challenge to God’s omnipotence. If God let an animal die out, it seemed to imply God made mistakes. That was heresy.

At this time most of Europe believed the earth was no more than a few thousand years old. People knew that fossils were petrified bones, but many assumed the animals they came from still existed somewhere.

Mary calls the fossils she finds ‘curies’, short for curiosities. When she finds an ichthyosaur, even some scientists call it a crocodile. But the common people, Mary’s neighbors, call the creatures, ‘monsters.’ And Mary’s interest in and knowledge of such ‘monsters’ make the villagers wary and suspicious of her.

Tracy Chevalier tells the story of Mary Anning’s discoveries through two distinct women’s voices, Mary Anning and Elizabeth Philpot. They could hardly be more different. Mary is at least twenty years younger than Elizabeth. They come from vastly different classes, and face different challenges in life. Yet the passion for fossils they share forges an unlikely friendship between them. The science community of this era deliberately excludes women, finding their voices invalid and unworthy of attention. It takes incredible tenacity to push on against this rejection over and over again, yet together they do it.

The Strange Affair of Adelaide Harris: A Review

The other day I was dusting my bookshelves (a rather uncommon activity in my house.) I have a lot of books, with bookshelves in every room. While I rarely reread any of the fiction, I enjoy perusing the titles and remembering the pleasure each gave. That day as I lingered over some of the older historical fiction, a book by Leon Garfield caught my eye. I remembered discovering the book more than twenty years ago and thoroughly enjoying it.

The story concerns the mysterious disappearance of a baby and the various attempts to find and restore the missing child. Although this scenario doesn’t sound the least bit funny, Garfield turns the story into a delightful comedy.

Imagine this: Two mischievous schoolboys inspired by a dangerous idea and an incomplete understanding of the Greek myths. Add in a sentimental young lady and two misguided suitors with their own agendas. Throw in a gipsy baby as a substitute for the missing infant and a jaded investigator with a clubfoot and penchant for charting webs of deceit and lies. Here you have the recipe for Leon Garfield’s hilarious The Strange Affair of Adelaide Harris.

Miss Adelaide is, of course, the baby, who through no fault of her own goes missing and turns up in a poorhouse. Her brother, Harris, and his friend, Bostock , are responsible, yet who could really blame them? They were just acting out the Greek stories of exposing an infant to the elements, the stories their teacher had read to them. They never meant any harm. How could they have guessed an impressionable young woman (instead of a fox with full dugs) would stumble upon Miss Adelaide and steal her away? The story follows the escapades of young Bostock and Harris as they try plan after plan to find and retrieve Miss Adelaide to return her to her crib, and the mischief they started has long-reaching consequences.

The Strange Affair of Miss Adelaide Harris is an example of my favorite kind of historical fiction: a cozy mystery. Garfiled draws very believable characters, each with his or her own agenda, often unknowingly at cross-purposes with each other. The result is a work of fiction that seamlessly draws the reader into the past world. Each character exemplifies and personifies (even mocks) 19th century ‘types’, without ever relying on stereotypes. Mr. Brett, for instance, is the unhappy, lovelorn schoolmaster, who finds himself as the second to both parties in an impending duel. Garfield gives us enough of Mr. Brett’s backstory and inner dialogue to see him as an individual. Major Alexander, a blustering, middle-aged retired military man, is equally individualized when he alarmed at finding himself challenging a much younger man to a duel.

Though the setting of the story is not any specific time or place, there are enough specific details to recognize 19th century Britain. Descriptions of clothing (waistcoats, bodices, and bagwigs), food (veal and mutton pies), money, (schillings and half crowns) and practices (a wet nurse who makes the rounds ) all add verisimilitude.

However, the real treasure in this story is the humor, based on the ridiculous, yet logical actions of characters at cross-purposes. Re-reading this nearly forgotten gem has been a delight. Perhaps I ought to visit my old book friends a little more often.

A story of an elephant and his trainer

A Review of Four Nails by G. J. Berger

Published San Diego, CA: G.J.Berger Publishing, 2016

Four Nails is an epic novel chronicling the journey of Ashoka, a young elephant trainer, and Four Nails,a magnificent elephant, from how the two met under tragic circumstances to their daunting trek across the alps with Hannibal’s army. It is a tale of moral courage as Asoka struggles to maintain his own values of harmony and peace in spite of ruthless masters and the requirements of war. Berger makes the legendary feat of Hannibal seem more real, giving us the gritty details of actual warfare and showing the losses that even great victories bring.

Throughout this novel I was struck by how clearly the author portrayed the ways in which the culture of the mahouts (Buddhist elephant trainers) was at odds with Hannibal’s war efforts. As slaves, Ashoka and his companions had no choice in the decision to invade Rome. Except for Four Nails, the elephants they drove were small, peaceful elephants unsuited for warfare. Along with the horrors of battle, these Indians faced the hostile suspicions of the Carthagenian religious leaders, the terrible cold of the alps, and the swarms of mosquitoes in the marshes. Only grim determination and a sense of duty kept them going.

Berger has obviously done a great deal of reserach into Hannibals’ army, elephants in India and Africa, caste systems, slavery of the time, and many other aspects of the times and cultures portrayed. I also found it interesting to see how the history of Alexander the Great’s exploits in India (Circa 325 BC) affected the people over a hundred years later in 218 BC. For Ashoka and his generation, Alexander’s conquests were nearly as close in historical memory as WWI is for us. Details like this help bring history alive. I look for historical fiction that entertains me and teaches me something about the time period and the people’s lives. This engaging story does a very good job of both, and is well-worth reading

A review of J. D. Smith’s TRISTAN AND ISEULT (B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree)

16fd96deba85a06311383433f152ed24_M When it comes to legends of Irish princesses, don’t expect a happy ending. Their stories are decidedly tragic.

The ancient legend of Tristan and Iseult, known from at least the 12th century, is a case in point. There are many versions of the story, which is basically a love triangle. Iseult, daughter of an Irish king, is a pawn in the game of political marriages. She is wed to King Mark of Cornwall in order to cement an alliance between an Irish kingdom and Cornwell. Mark’s younger nephew and heir to the throne of Cornwall, Tristan, falls in love with Iseult, and she with him. Because of their tangled loyalties and overwhelming passion, the lives of all three end tragically.

This tale of wronged lovers, duty, and sorrow has greatly influenced many retellings, including many versions of the story of King Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere. In the story of Camelot, as in Tristan and Iseult’s story, the three people involved love and respect each other. They have no intention of betrayal, but their love is so strong it cannot be denied. Such love is powerful enough to incite jealousies. Even if the lovers never actually do any wrong, their downfall is inevitable because such power is dangerous.

As a whole, legends tend to focus on plot rather than character. Modern novelizations of legends go beyond the retelling of events to develop the characters. That is exactly what J. D. Smith’s version of the legend, Tristan and Iseult, does. Smith uses the alternating voices of Tristan and Iseult to bring the story to life. He shows how Iseult knows that her fate as the daughter of a king is not her own choice, and that her marriage will be a tool used by men to gain power. When she is saved from her impending marriage to the brutish King Morholt, she finds herself grateful to King Mark and impressed with his ideas of alliance and peace. In fact, she wouldn’t mind marrying him, in spite of his age, if it weren’t for Tristan.

Tristan, a warrior fighting to stem the tide of the Saxon invasion, honors and respects his uncle, King Mark. He mourns the death of his cousin, Mark’s son, and is surprised when Mark names him his heir.

Iseult and Tristan do not mean to fall in love, but they do. Smith’s version of the story shows us how such a forbidden passion can grow. He reveals the character’s inner thoughts, desires, fears and hopes, making us understand and sympathize with their dilemma, where every choice seems destined to lead only to lifelong sorrow.

Rather than the flat, archetypal character of the legend, Smith’s characters seem very real, very human. Faced with their impossible choice, can they do what is right? Will such honor bring them happiness? With simple, direct prose, Smith makes us care about these doomed lovers and the fate of their world.

Legends like this one reveal human frailty and the power of human impulses. We care for these people who, in spite of vast difference in time and culture, could be us. Even though we know their end will be tragic, we hope for the best. We hope, perhaps this time, honor will be rewarded and love will win.

Perhaps, that is why legends endure. In spite of tragic fate, that hope remains.

An Exploration of THE HOUSE OF SEVEN GABLES

What makes an old house spooky? You know, the house that children run past, holding their breath in a sort of delightful dread?

The house my kids called the witch’s house was a dingy, slate blue, with small, dark windows. It stood tall and square right at the edge of the sidewalk, looming as if ready to grab the unwary child. We never knew who, if anyone, lived in this house, but something about its aspect frightened all the neighborhood children.

For many spooky houses, it is the mysterious or odd inhabitants who ‘haunt’ the house and make it frightening. Witness Boo Radley’s house in To Kill a Mockingbird, so scary it could only be passed at a dead run.

Nathaniel Hawthorne explores this idea of the haunted house (‘haunted’ by fear, sadness, and tragedy, not by ghosts) in his novel, The House of Seven Gables (1851). Hawthorne describes the house thus: “Halfway down a by-street of one of our New England towns stands a rusty wooden house, with seven acutely peaked gables, facing towards various points of the compass, and a huge clustered chimney in the midst” (1). He goes on to say the house seems like a “human contenance, bearing the traces not merely of outward storm and sunshine, but expressive also of the long lapse of mortal life, and accompanying vicissitudes that have passed within” (1). The exterior of the house is decorated with figures ”conceived in the grotesqueness of a Gothic fancy” (7). Hawthorne continues with more vivid description stressing the house’s mysterious and unusual character. He says, “the second story, projecting far over the base and itself retiring beneath the third, threw a shadowy and thoughtful gloom into the lower rooms”(7).

The House of Seven Gables takes on the role of a character in the novel, based partly on its odd architecture and gloomy aspect and partly on the miserable inhabitants of the house. The two principal characters in the novel are Hepzibah and Clifford Pyncheon, sister and brother, descendents of the original owner of the house. Hepzibah is a lonely, bitter, old woman, made ugly by her sorrow. Clifford is a sensitive, unstable man, broken by the injustice of his incarceration for a murder he did not commit.

In some ways, the house itself is the cause of Clifford and Hepzibah’s misery, since, as Hawthorne explains, it was built by their ancestor under a curse. The old Colonel Pyncheon claimed the land occupied by the humble Matthew Maule. When Maule was executed as a witch (during the famous Salem witch trials), he cursed the Colonel for his part in the condemnation. Though the Pyncheons continued to occupy the house, from that moment on, the family was beset with tragedies and sorrows. The curse of the house carried on through the generations until landing on poor Hepzibah and Clifford.

Nathaniel Hawthorne is quite wordy in his writing (sentences of 50-60 words are common.) Most of the novel is taken up with long explanations of the tragedies of the house–that is the backstory or history of the house and its inhabitants, leading up to the current situation where Hepzibah is penniless and Clifford returns home from prison unable to cope with life. In many ways The House of Seven Gables serves as a series of character sketches. Hepzibah’s loyalty to her brother, her bitterness to the cruel world, her discomfort with outsiders, and her indecision in times of crisis show her as a real, flawed, human being. She, along with her brother, Clifford, haunt the reader’s memory as much as they haunt the old house that seems to be their refuge as well as their prison. And the house itself is a character that sparks the imagination and haunts my dreams.

The strength of the novel is not in its plot, but in its character descriptions and its thoughtful exploration of the human condition. In the end, Hawthorne addresses the question: Can there be redemption for these people wracked by ancient sorrows and cursed by their ancestor’s greed? Can light be brought into the gloom of a ill-fated house so that justice be served and happiness return?

In the fall, I visited Salem and went to the House of Seven Gables on Sale

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s birthplace, built in 1750

m Harbor. In his introduction to his novel, Hawthorne claims that no single house in Salem was the model for the house in his book. Nevertheless, this house on Turner Street is most often considered the inspiration for Hawthorne’s story. The original house here was built in 1668 by John Turner, a prominent merchant and ship-builder in Salem. Today, several other historic buildings have been moved to the site, including the housewhere Nathaniel Hawthorne was born in 1804, the Hooper-Hathaway House built in 1682, and a counting house from 1830.

I visited on a grey day, with intermittent rain showers spitting across the harbor. The House of Seven Gables is impressive, but I did not find it spooky. Perhaps it was the cheerful voices of the tourists, or the lush green gardens surrounding the house, or the bright fresh wood of new roof and repaired siding.

Or perhaps, like poor Hepzibah and Clifford, the house truly has made peace with the past and is ready to face the world.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. (1998 reprint) The House of Seven Gables. Rhode Island: North Books.

Behind the Circus Glamour: A reveiw of WATER FOR ELEPHANTS by Sara Gruen

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Who doesn’t dream of running away to join the circus? I know the thought has crossed my mind ever since I saw Disney’s Toby Tyler when I was five or six years ol. Sure, Toby had a few hardships, but everything turned out great in the end. He even got to ride the circus horse in the big show. Why couldn’t I do the same?

But real circuses, especially those of small, struggling outfits of the Depression Era, were not the romantically glamorous places of my dreams. In Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen recreates the real circus, with all of its sordid backstage drama, cruel practices, and realistic performers. She shows the precarious life of the roustabouts and lower ‘class circus workers, and goes beyond the shining surface glitter of circus life.

The book starts with a prologue and a mystery. The narrator (Jacob Jankowski) witnesses a murder. This tense, chaotic, opening scene shows a circus owner’s nightmare. The animals are loose and the crowd is on the verge of panic. Jacob tries in vain to stop the murderer. Readers are tantalized, left wondering who was murdered and why. The only clue is the murderer was female.

The action then shifts to more modern times. Jacob is now ninety (or ninety-three), stuck in a nursing home. He’s a cantankerous old man who never talks about his past. Until now, when a circus comes to town. The novel follows Jacob back into his past. Alternating between present day and seventy years earlier, we gradually learn Jacob’s story; how he came to be in the circus, and the terrible things that happened there. In many ways this is a love story; not just of a man and a woman, but also masterfully portraying the depth of love that can exist between humans and animals, even in the most dire circumstances.

In addition to a gripping story, with great characters, Sara Gruen’s book is marvelous historical fiction. Along with the glittering costumes, cotton candy and crowds of rubes, we experience the stink of the big cats, the clacking wheels of the circus train on the move, and the crumpled horse blanket that serves as Jacob’s bed. Woven into the story is a startling picture of a time when prejudice and abuse were common. Freaks were meant to be in the circus. Animals could be abused with impunity. And circus owners could get by with redlighting- the practice of throwing unwanted workers off the train when the circus no longer needed them — even when the victims died.

Most of us will never really run away to join a circus, certainly not the circus so vividly portrayed here. But Gruen brings those long ago days alive for readers, sweeping us into the Big Top of the past. She lets us dream, for a little while at least, that we could really be there, along with Kinko, August, Marlena, Big Al and all the others. And of course, Jacob Jankowski, who knows what it means to take care of an elephant.

Ducks and Green Space: Boston Public Garden

Since its debut in 1941, Robert McCloskey’s Make Way for Ducklings has delighted millions of readers, both young and old. In the story, Mrs. Mallard must navigate the busy streets of Boston to guide her eight ducklings to their new home in the Boston Public Garden. McCloskey won the Caldecott in 1941 for this book, which remains popular today. While not exactly historical fiction, the story evokes an earlier era, nearly eighty years ago, when the world had time to stop for kindness. One of my favorite illustrations in the book is the one of the portly policeman blowing his whistle and holding up his hand to halt traffic.

It is fitting that the Mallard family finds their new home in Boston Public Garden, a place even more historic than the book. The garden was built on reclaimed land: salt marshes filled in with gravel and dirt taken from a hill in the Beacon Hill area of Boston. In 1837, the land was set aside to become the first public botanical garden in the United States, under the planning and vision of Horace Gray. For many years, the city of Boston, the state of Massachusetts, and private developers argued over what should be done with the land. There were several attempts to build housing there. Finally, in 1859, the 24 acre plot was permanently designated as parkland.

The garden is full of statues, the most famous of which is George Washington Equestrian statue, designed and cast by Thomas Ball in 1869. The statue is sixteen feet tall, and rests on a pedestal that is another sixteen feel tall.

The Public Garden features a Victorian landscape design with meandering paths, shady trees, and colorful and exotic plantings. The pond with the small island where the Mallard family finds a home was completed in 1859. Curiously, the island was originally a peninsula, but was detached from the mainland because too many lovers found the soft gas lights and alluring space too tempting. Now countless ducks inhabit the island as part of long-standing tradition.

And so, as part of this tradition, the Mallard family settles on the island in the pond within the very first Public Garden. It seems both Mrs. Mallard and the good people of Boston recognize the value of green spaces, even in big cities. Mr. McCloskey’s timeless story serves as a pleasant reminder of everyone’s need for peaceful shelter in an oft chaotic world.

Designed by William G. Preston and completed in 1869, this bridge crosses the lagoon. Originally it was the shortest functioning suspension bridge in the United States until it was converted to a girder bridge in 1921.

The famous swan boats, featured in McCloskey’s book, have delighted visitors to the Public Garden since 1877. Though the boats had closed for the season when I visited, the swans (inaptly named Romeo and Juliet, thought both are femaie) floated gracefully atop the pond.

Hamilton: Historical fiction with a modern twist

1566 Earlier this summer I had the very distinct pleasure of attending the popular rap-musical, Hamilton, with my daughter in Chicago. A lot has been written about this show, and its well-deserved popularity. Indeed, the music, the lyrics, the acting, the set, the choreography–all that and more are truly amazing.

Beyond this critical acclaim, what I find most interesting is the fact that this show is historical fiction at its best, the stories of who lived, and who died, and what happened. Lin-Manuel Miranda, who created the show and starred as the protagonist in the Broadway production, based this musical on the Ron Chernow’s biography, Alexander Hamilton (2004), so a lot of research went into the making of the show.

In school, kids study George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Ben Franklin. Less attention is paid to Alexander Hamilton, even though he was a prolific writer and of tremendous influence on the establishment of this country. Sure we learn about his stint as the first Secretary of the Treasury and his death from a duel with Aaron Burr. We know he’s the guy on the $10 bill. And some of us wade through excerpts of the Federalist Papers for which he, John Jay, and James Madison are responsible. But we don’t learn much about the man. His life doesn’t become legend the way the lives of others Founding Fathers have.

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s genius is grabbing us by the throat and showing us the story of this remarkable man and his important role in the unlikely founding of the United States of America. Hamilton’s rise to power is the epitome of American opportunity. Miranda opens the show by demanding to know how a bastard, orphaned immigrant can become great. From the very beginning notes, we in the audience care about this young man full of hopes and dreams coming to what will become America. As we follow Hamilton’s story, we witness America itself being born.

For the most part, the show is well-researched and factually correct. Even his emotional turmoils, his dreams and goals, and his scandalous affair are documented through Chernow and Miranda’s study of Hamilton’s extensive correspondence and other writings. Those few departures from historical fact were made with thought and deliberation to enhance the story without losing sight of the truth. For instance, in reality the Schuyler sisters had two brothers, which Miranda left out, probably because they had little effect on Hamilton’s story. Another example is the duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton. The shooting actually happened in 1804 after Burr lost the election for governor, not in 1800 after Burr’s failed bid for the Presidency. Though the details of the duel’s timing are inaccurate, the rivalry between Hamilton and Burr is well-documented and clearly portrayed in the musical. The discrepancy doesn’t take away from the story or the shock of Hamilton’s death.

It’s no easy task to make Americans care about history. We tend to be a forward-looking people, too often ignoring the past and forgetting the problems from yesteryear. Yet we can learn a lot from history. Modern Americans still struggle with racial inequities, federal budget deficits, immigration issues, and the of balance work and home life. Miranda’s story of Hamilton entertains, but also reminds us of who we are. Through modern rap, dance, and song, we can see ourselves in this story of our past.

History is told by the survivors. Unlike the other founding fathers, Hamilton’s life was cut short, so he did not survive. But his wife, Eliza, lived for another fifty years after him, and even though her voice was ignored by many for years, she never quit telling Hamilton’s story. Now Lin-Manuel Miranda has taken up the story and given it to us again. I am grateful.

Shakespeare in Love: A Review

Very little is known about William Shakespeare. He was born in Stratford-on-Avon sometime in April, 1564. In 1582, at the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, and had three children with her. Then he lived in London without his wife and wrote some of the world’s best dramatic works ever to be produced. What he thought, who he cared about, and how he worked are all unknown. All we have for evidence are his plays. These plays serve as great fodder for the imagination of writers.

For centuries, writers have imagined the real William Shakespeare in poetry and stories. A book I read recently, Fools and Mortals, by Bernard Cornwell, portrays William from the point of view of Richard, his younger brother as William writes A Midsummer Night’s Dream. According to Richard, William is haughty and unfriendly. The story is very well-written and provides a fascinating view of early 17th century London.

A much different picture of a younger, far more likeable William Shakespeare is presented in the play (first a screenplay by Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard), Shakespeare in Love, which I recently saw performed during Winona’s Great River Shakespeare Festival. This tragic romantic comedy or (comedic romantic tragedy) gives the poignant backstory for the creation of one of Shakespeare’s most enduring tragedies, Romeo and Juliet. Both plays (the modern and the Elizabethan) present star-crossed lovers whose story could have been happy, if the forces of the world would only let them be. In Shakespeare in love, young Will falls in love with Viola de Lesseps, a wealthy woman bound by the cultural norms of her time to obey her father and marry a man she does not love (or even like.) Both she and Will want poetry in their lives. In each other’s company, they find both poetry and love.

In a hilarious set of circumstances rivaling Shakespeare own mixed identities, Viola disguises herself as Thomas Kent, an actor, and ends up playing Romeo in Will’s new comedy which he plans to call Romeo and Ethel the pirate’s Daughter. In Elizabethan times, women weren’t allowed to perform on the stage. One particularly funny scene is when Viola, a woman disguised as Master Kent, plays Romeo against a young boy, disguised as a woman, playing Juliet. The comedy deepens when Will, helping to direct the rehearsal, steps in to play Juliet, and sparks fly. But when Will and Viola’s real life comes crashing in and their love is thwarted, the comedy turns dark, and the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet is created.

Shakespeare in Love is marvelous historical fiction. Though full of anachronisms, (ie-Wessex, the nobel suitor to Viola, talks of his tobacco plantation in Virgina. The tobacco culture in Virginia didn’t begin until 1607), the play presents a very believable late 16th century London. We see a credible picture of the life of an actor and playwright, including the constant threat of the theater being closed, the stealing of play manuscripts, and the restrictions on women attending or working in the theater. Indeed, one of my favorite aspects of this play is the portrayal of Queen Elizabeth played beautifully by Melissa Maxwell. At this point in history, Elizabeth is a cantankerous, powerful woman holding her own in a man’s world. With just the right mix of poignancy and hubris, she says to Viola, “I know something of a woman in a man’s profession. Yes, by God, I do know about that.” At that moment we recognize the struggle of women of all ages for self-determination. Our hearts go out to both the queen, who seems to have succeeded, and Viola, who ultimately cannot.

What makes Shakespeare in Love really stand out are the many connections to Shakespeare’s work and the way events are presented as inspiration for Shakespeare’s plays. Young Will’s friend, Christopher Marlowe, and Will’s feelings of guilt over Marlowe’s death are echoed in the character of Mercutio. Viola De Lesseps’ nurse becomes Juliet’s nurse. Many of Shakespeare’s best plot devices, such as disguised identities, men and women cross-dressing, jealous lovers, and sword fights find their way into the modern play. Shakespeare in Love is thoroughly peppered with lines from many of Shakespeare’s plays and even from one of his most famous sonnets, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…”

Good historical fiction connects our past with the concerns of today. Shakespeare in Love tells a story that makes us laugh and cry as we recognize the power of love. At this publication, there are still three performances, July 29, Aug. 3 nd Aug.4. Here’s the link:

GRSF: Shakespeare in Love

If you can’t make the show, there is always the movie. Like Shakespeare’s own work, this is a show well worth seeing, again and again.