My debut novel, Beyond That, the Sea, is set in the past: it opens in 1940 and ends in 1977. As I worked on it, over years and years, I never thought I was writing historical fiction. I was writing a book about characters who lived in the past. The inciting incident of the book—which takes place before the book begins—and some of the plot points are driven by historic moments. But still, for me, the book was always about the characters. As it is making its way into the world, though, it is often referred to as historical fiction. It’s made me think a little harder about these categories into which we place books.
The book industry likes its marketing distinctions: commercial fiction, literary fiction, historical fiction, to name just a few. At one of the first summer writing conferences that I attended, almost fifteen years ago, I remember someone asking me what kind of fiction I wrote. I didn’t know how to answer that question. “Literary,” she said. “Or commercial?” You could almost hear the sneer in her voice when she dragged out that second word. At that point, I wasn’t familiar with the term “literary fiction.” Fiction was fiction. And that was how I first learned of the distinction and the hierarchy. Later, that difference was underscored in my MFA program. Never quite said, but understood by all, was that commercial fiction was not the goal. We were there to be trained as literary writers: to write anything less than that would be a disappointment.
When my novel was well underway, I realized that it would probably fall somewhere between commercial and literary fiction. That spot is typically called “upmarket” fiction—yet another nod towards the hierarchy. Only then did I try to truly understand what that meant and how I felt about it. I’m still not sure I fully understand the definitions, but an easy one, I think, is that commercial fiction focuses more on plot while literary fiction focuses more on character. Literary fiction tends to be more nuanced, with more subtext, more attention paid to the prose. Endings are complicated, more ambiguous: there are possibilities for different layers of understanding. When I was fretting about this, a writer friend said, “What are you worried about? That some writer will look down on you?” Yes, I thought, that’s exactly it. Because I have done that, myself—I have dismissed books and authors because I didn’t like the emphasis on plot or thought the prose was weak. And I would say, to myself and to others, “Oh, it’s so commercial.” I had become a literary snob.
Historical fiction also often gets a bad rap, fitting into the hierarchy at a lower rung of the ladder, placed beneath that of literary fiction. I remember attending an historical fiction panel at the annual writers conference; the panelists were honest about their frustration at feeling as though they were somehow considered less than the other writers there. It does seem somewhat backward: well-done historical fiction is a mammoth undertaking—it takes an enormous amount of research on top of everything else a book demands.
Here, too, I’ve tried to more clearly understand the definitions. I think, at its simplest, that it’s about what is foregrounded. True historical fiction seems to demand that the time and the history are of utmost importance, whereas literary fiction that’s set in the past focuses on character. The historical moment runs along in the background: it’s important, but it’s not the main thing. And here, too, the strength of the prose is a factor. But slowly, I think, the black mark on historical fiction has begun to fade away. Writers like Hilary Mantel changed the landscape. She was often clearly writing historical fiction but her work is character-driven and imaginative. Her prose is always strong. I am in awe of writers like Mantel and Kate Atkinson—they manage to do it all.
But now, it seems, books can end up in either literary fiction or historical fiction buckets. I was somewhat taken aback when I saw Yiyun Li’s The Book of Goose on a yearend list for historical fiction. Not because it was on the list—it belongs on every list—but because it was tagged as historical fiction. Yes, it takes place in the mid-20th century. But Li’s work, for me, is almost the textbook definition of literary fiction. And likewise Lauren Groff’s Matrix, Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet, Jonathan Franzen’s Crossroads. The list goes on and on. In the end, though, does it matter what a book is called?
I’m sure the categories are helpful for the publishing industry. But I’m frustrated when I see readers dismiss books because they’ve been placed in one category or another. “I don’t like historical fiction,” I heard someone say. I don’t really know what that means, but I feel as though that reader may miss out on some great books by insisting upon it. And it works the other way, too. My book, because it begins in 1940 during the war, has been called a “World War II” book. Someone expecting what I would think of as a true WW2 book—a book that puts the war front and center—may be disappointed as the story moves forward in time.
Once, in a workshop, someone said something about a piece being more commercial than literary and therefore the reader’s expectations should be different. “No,” the workshop leader said. “Those are marketing distinctions. Books are books. There are good books and there are not good books. It is not our job to think about where a book may be shelved. Write a good book. That is your goal.” Definitions and buckets and lists are helpful but also problematic. What really matters is the work.
Have a happy new year and see you in two weeks!
Ye, the hierarchy are what I feel are the glaring weaknesses of creative writing scholarship. Literary on its own is a vague term. Commercial is specific. Commercial romance, teen fiction, fantasy, etc. Commercial has always been a dismissal but the writers work hard to provide us clear characters, clear plot, and clear and understandable expectations. Aaaand these writers tend to be more prolific and more practiced than most “literary” writers. Fiction iiis fiction but people don’t act that way and that’s always been a frustration of mine hahaha.
That said, historical fiction is mega hard! You not only gotta make your details somewhat accurate and convincing, they’ve gotta feel right to you too. You’ve done something amazing Laura. People just so happen to be more close-minded than book lovers ought to be 😂
Love this!