By Bonnie Stanard
There are those of us who call ourselves writers based not on the number of books we have written or sold but on the hope that we will make a difference to some reader somewhere. But what sort of difference are we aspiring to?
I can say that my books have made a difference to at least one person, and that’s me. Each book has been a learning experience. They have forced me to explore worlds of the antebellum South and Medieval France. As a result, I’ve learned to appreciate the adage that the past is a foreign country.
As I sit at my desk and think about my surroundings, I ask myself, what have I contributed to this place where I find myself? Did I make the chair I’m sitting on? Did I sew the shirt I’m wearing? Build the room? The house? Did I hammer a nail or install electricity? Build a street? Did I make my iPhone, create the internet? What have I actually done to bring about virtually everything I encounter and use every day?
The answer of course leads me to realize my debt to our forefathers. The sweat and anguish of many individuals who worked together for centuries produced the advancements that give me the comfort and safety I take for granted. Perhaps this realization is one reason historical fiction appeals to me. It gives us a peep-hole through the concrete that divides us from the past.
I’ve noticed that we criticize our ancestors based on expectations of the present with little notion of the cultural and moral differences that separate us from them. Today, historic heroes lose status regardless of their good intentions if they don’t conform to the sensibilities of the 21st Century. They were products of a time when the meaning of good wouldn’t be found in a dictionary today. Our century is not just physically different from any other, it is emotionally different.
It’s no exaggeration to say that our culture has been changed over time by gifted writers. Jane Austen pointed out that patriarchy is oppressive (it’s taking a long time to sink in). Charles Dickens told the world of child labor and the abuse of the poor. Dostoyevsky questioned our view of morality. Mark Twain, notably a humorist, took on politics. These writers have prompted us to look at ourselves critically.
It takes genius to be as clever as canonic authors, but that’s not to say our writing doesn’t affect readers for better or worse. Even romance, sci-fi, mystery, or whatever the genre, has moral moments. It may be one sentence. It may be an inconspicuous tone.
Our attitudes and values are daily shifting in directions based on what we see, hear, and read. In what direction are we going? We assume progress is positive, but the word is coveted as a marketing tool to sell good and bad ideas. “Improvement” may come at a cost that results in harm.
Will our novels throw light on destructive trends? Plots that exploit drugs, violence, erotica, and mayhem are exciting. However, without redeeming value, they impoverish our intellect and compromise our sense of right and wrong.
I’m not talking about polemics as a plot, not about what we “ought” to do. I mean novels that surprise us with courage, honesty, and toleration. Will we give readers a reason to question what is going on with our world?
It’s no wonder I love your books. Your above thoughts are exactly why I read and WHAT I read. I read over 50 books during 2020. History, historical fiction, biographies, people living off the grid! (It’s all a blurr but just trying to understand the past and how and why things evolved.). Keep doing what you’re doing. !!
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