Admiral and the New Historical Epics

I recently enjoyed watching the Dutch movie Admiral on Netflix. In its home country, it was originally titled Michiel de Ruyter, a name likely unknown outside of the Netherlands and military history circles. Given my interest in the subject, I had some familiarity with de Ruyter's story, so I was excited that a dramatization was so readily accessible to me. Being able to watch it was the result of an intersection between two technologically driven trends.

The Over-Research Trap

Having written earlier about the joys of historical documentaries as well as warnings from the past, it's natural that I've recently turned my attention to historical fiction, as both a reader (expect a new review soon) and a writer. While this may seem like something of a change from the fantasy I usually work on, it's something I've done in the past, and it's about a historical subject that I'm enthusiastic about and have studied extensively. It's a pleasure to dive into the research.

And therein lies the trap. It's something several friends of mine can attest to is a common obstacle when writing historical fiction. That is problem is over-research.

Learning from History, YouTube Style!

When times seem uncertain, I think one of the most useful ways to gain a bit of clarity is by studying history. We've now had several millenia of human history and stories from ancient history might seem, not to put too fine a point on it, ancient history. But the fact is, when something happens in the present, chances are a very similar situation happened in the past and usually on several occasions. The tricky part is figuring which example from history the present course of events is most likely to follow. Is the current state of the world most closely mimicking the 1930's, or is it the turn of the last century battle between the robber barons and the progressives? Or can we look to the late Roman Empire for guidance?

For my part, those are rhetorical questions. All I know is that Cars is a prophecy of the future. Yes, I am obsessed with that movie.

Ultimately, the more knowledge the better. And a great place to gain that knowledge in quick and digestible format is YouTube. With some warnings of course. I've written before about my love of finding documentaries on YouTube. There are certainly a lot of great history documentaries available there. But there are also a lot of weird, amateurish consipiracy nutjob docos too, though much of it little distinguishable from the History Channel's current Ancient Aliens lineup.

My advice is to search for and double check that the documentary is produced in association with one of the reputable TV channels, such as BBC, PBS or Channel 4, or even Discovery or History, if it's an older show.

But there's also another weird phenomenon I've noticed with these documentaries. History docs are not necessarily the most sexy material (try as it might), so some uploaders have resorted to using "porny" thumbnails as clickbait.

Reading List: It Sure Can Happen Here

When I was growing up, one of my favourite miniseries ever was V (the original). I think I liked the sequel even better, because in that one, we finally win! Humans beating the evil aliens was pretty much the main message I got out of it. I was too young to catch any subtext to the story, namely its Nazism/Holocaust allegory. It seemed blindingly obvious when I was older. I mean hey, c'mon:

But to little kid version of me, once I saw lizard faces, motherships and cool blasters, what more was there to see? It was only when I rewatched the shows in my adolescence that I picked up on the message hiding (just barely) under the surface. Suddenly, adolescent me thought this was the most profound thing ever put on television. At that age, I still wasn't exactly deep.

As I grew older, not only did V's central allegory seem way too on the nose, it also seemed to lack relevance. Ethnic cleansing and genocide were certainly out there in the public consciousness, but here in the Western World, the idea that people could so easily allow an insidious movement to subvert the basic human decency of people well aware of what happened in World War II seemed painfully quaint. Overdone.

And yet here we are. I'm not even going to bother listing all the things going on in the world, because if you don't even know, this blog probably isn't for you. Writing that might have seemed dated a few decades ago is now totally of the moment.

Review: Red Sky, Black Death, by Anna Timofeyeva-Yegorova

Translated by Margarita Ponomariova and Kim Green

As a source of stories and ideas, is there anything that can compare to World War II? Its scale and impact was so monumental, it seems every type of conflict affecting people from all walks of life and all corners of the world, every moral dimension and literary archetype can be drawn from the real life experiences of the war. For a time period that has been covered as extensively as it has been by our popular culture over the past six decades, there still seem to be limitless supplies of new and compelling stories to be mined from its depths.

The most recent example I've encountered is also one of the best military memoirs I can recall reading. Red Sky, Black Death is the story of Anna Yegorova, a ground attack pilot who fought for the Soviet Union during World War II. The book traces her youth, from her time as a proud communist worker building the Moscow underground, to becoming one of the world's only female attack plane pilots, finally ending with her struggle against the shameful stigma placed on her by Stalin's policies as a former prisoner of war. The Soviet Union was the only country to officially recruit women for combat duty during the war. Even having read numerous first hand accounts and non-fiction books on the subject of Soviet women combat pilots, Yegorova's story still surprised and enthralled me in equal parts.

First and foremost, what stands out is the quality of writing and translating. Yegorova's experiences are interesting enough on their own, however, given the length of time that has passed, it could easily devolve into either unlinked snippets of memories or a grocery list of events. It is neither of these things. The book is a story and it holds together a clear sense of events as they happened, sometimes sprinkling with intimations of the future and how the recollections linger in the present. The narrative momentum never falters. Further making her telling stand out is her unusual openness about the contradictions in Soviet life at the time. Many similar memoirs suffer from excessive influence from Soviet era propaganda that the authors' experienced, or simply gloss over the political realities. But having bitterly confronted her own brother's persecution during one of Stalin's purges as well as her own after the war, Yegorova gives us a fully formed notion of the cruel ironies of risking and sacrificing so much country she loves that is ruled by such a repressive system.

What would have served to improve the book would have been an appendix, which could clarify the progression of time and place during the narrative (a bare bones timeline is offered as a preface.)

Still, this is a personal record, and it stands with the best military memoirs from the war. I am very happy that this book has found an English translation, as it sheds light on several little known (in the Western world at least) corners of the World War II canon. It is such a rarity not only as a memoir of the Soviet experience, but also of a woman in combat.

 (out of 5)

Review: Ghost on the Throne, by James Romm

When reading a book on true history, I find that the notes sections are often what makes the overall quality of the work shine through. If I feel compelled to read through the notes, this tells me a few important things. It usually means that the work is well researched, and allows the notes to present a clear basis for the author's statements, as well as alternative interpretations of the evidence. Well written notes give enough context that I don't feel the need to annoyingly flip back and forth between sections. Most importantly, if I'm spending time reading through the notes, it means I didn't want the story to end.

The best non-fiction works have a strong narrative without sacrificing academic rigour. My favourite work of this kind, Batavia's Graveyard, by Mike Dash, is an excellent example of a book I did not want to put down, even while reading the notes. Ghost on the Throne, by James Romm, also passes this test and is easily the best non-fiction book I've read this year.