Why I love the 1840s

Until now, readers of my work will be familiar with a narrow time period beginning in 1893 (the first chapter of Crowley's Rival) and ending in 1897 (most of The Only Genuine Jones). This period interests me as a climber because it stands at an important crossroads in the history of mountaineering. Prior to the 1890s, mountaineering in the UK was at best seen as lightweight practice for 'the real thing' (Alpine climbing); but during that decade it flourished and became an important branch of climbing in its own right.

However, interesting as the 1890s are from the mountaineering side of things, I find them slightly dull when it comes to the broader historical and social context. You will notice that my previous two books don't dwell on that broader context; most of the historical detail is to do with the climbing community, because that is where the interest lies for these stories.

In the 1890s we have colonial wars, comparatively minor developments in science and technology, and a number of relatively ordinary economic crises. In Europe, at least, there are no sweeping revolutionary events to speak of. The discovery of the X-Ray would come to have dramatic consequences in the century to come, but at the time it barely made a ripple outside scientific circles. Increasing numbers of automobiles on the roads were at best curiosities for the general public and would not begin to make a serious impact on transport for the masses for a very long time; equally, innovations such as the telephone and moving pictures would not affect the majority of Britons for decades. This was the Belle Epoque: a period of relative stability and prosperity, for the upper classes at least. The working classes continued to suffer, but many of the battles they had fought for a hundred years had already been won.

Rewind fifty years to the 1840s, the decade in which I have decided to set my next two books.

This was a decade of dramatic change that penetrated from the very top to the very bottom of the social order. The continent of Europe had long suffered from food shortages and price increases (a symptom of increasing population), but now the underclasses rose up in revolution against the conservative establishment, and very nearly succeeded in toppling it in many countries. As usual, France was the center of this conflagration, and once again the Parisians overthrew their monarchy and implemented a new system of government. Once again there were rebels barricaded in the streets, fired upon by cannon and surrounded by armies.

This era saw the birth of Communism, the flowering of Nationalism, the remarkable domino effect of nation after nation standing up and demanding basic rights we now take for granted. Thousands died in the revolutionary wars of 1848, and although some countries were granted constitutions, very little of substance was achieved in the long run. Many Europeans continued to live short lives of abject misery and die in squalor.

Britain escaped a similar violent revolution by a hair's breadth.

The revolutions in science and technology were scarcely less significant. The telegraph system spread throughout Europe and by the end of the decade was affordable enough for most people to use. For the first time in history, messages that would once have taken days to transmit could now be sent in a matter of minutes. International news was reported in a manner that must have seemed instantaneous. To those alive at the time, it seemed as if the world was quite literally shrinking day by day.

This was the era of the railway, particularly in the middle of the decade when railway mania gripped Britain and many middle class families invested all their savings in the railways, only to lose everything when the bubble burst. Train travel became affordable and widespread. The old wheezing network of stagecoaches and coaching inns was replaced by a clanking, gleaming giant in a few short years. The train penetrated to every corner of England. While many embraced this new and modern form of transportation, yet more were afraid of it and distressed by the speed at which the British countryside was despoiled by the construction of thousands of miles of railway track. To make matters worse, railway accidents were extremely common in this era. Fear of sudden industrial change was compounded by fear of these alarming mechanical beasts that had suddenly invaded the land.

Rapid population growth, coupled with industrialisation and changing methods of making a living, wreaked vast change on the British countryside. Huge numbers of people moved to the cities to try to find work in factories. While the countryside was being carved up by railways, the cities expanded at a phenomenal rate, consuming ancient villages and countryside in a land of soot and smog. Outbreaks of cholera cut swathes through the cramped and overpopulated cities, killing thousands.

In Britain, the middle classes became wealthy as more and more of them invested their money in the new industrial world. Power trickled down the social order. Although troubled by the grumblings of the lower classes, the ruling elite continued to live more or less as they always had. The older generation often shoved their heads firmly in the sand, refusing to accept the new modern world which was unfolding around them at an increasingly rapid pace. It was common in this decade for the nostalgic to turn their rose-tinted gaze to the early years of the 19th century, before industrialisation transformed the land, when the rule of the upper classes was incontestable, when young officers made their names and fortune in the wars abroad. I find it incredible that terrible events such as the rampage of Bonaparte across Europe can become the subject of nostalgia only forty years later, but such are the strange tricks that rapid change can play on a nation's consciousness.

The fledgling sport of mountaineering had not yet grown wings (even the term 'mountaineering' had scarcely been invented). For most, Mont Blanc was the beginning and end of mountain climbing. In the Alps, British adventurers still focused on science and exploration first, climbing second; but a growing class of explorers were beginning to see the potential of the Alpine world, to realise that hundreds of mountains awaited first ascents. By the late 1840s the conditions were right for a revolution in mountaineering. The lyrical science of James Forbes and the showmanship of Albert Smith helped to ignite a fire that would only continue to grow for the next hundred and fifty years. In 1848 we stood on the brink of a Golden Age of Alpine exploration--a period ending in 1865 in which all of the major peaks of Alps are climbed. It was a period of adventures and legends the like of which history has never seen before or since.

This post has only really scratched the surface of the 1840s, but hopefully you can begin to see why I'm so enthusiastic about the decade. The opportunities for a storyteller are tremendous ... yet in modern fiction the 1840s seem to be relatively neglected. When we collectively think about the Victorian era, most people think about the latter part of the 19th century; the dramatic middle of the century is visited comparatively rarely.

I'm very excited about the journey I have begun with The Atholl Expedition, and I hope my readers will enjoy the 1840s as much as I do.

The Great Stink by Clare Clark: book review

The Great Stink by Clare Clark

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The Great Stink is one of those books that immediately grabbed my attention. It's an historical novel set in London during the industrial surge of the 1850s, and revolves around the tragic figure of William May, a civil engineer with the Metropolitan Board of Works. He's a veteran of the Crimean War but his present job involves the rebuilding of London's sewer system. His character is deeply damaged and his sanity is in question throughout the story. As a result of his erratic behaviour, May is misunderstood by everyone around him and exploited by unscrupulous individuals.

The tone of the book is set from the very first line. This is a novel of sewers, of lightless tunnels, of the stink of excrement and the slippery fur of giant rats bred deep underground. There is ugliness in every character portrayed here, from the sewer tosher 'Long Armed Tom' who wanders the tunnels and has no respect for anything but himself, to the unscrupulous engineer Hawke who wages a campaign of hatred against May. Even May's wife Polly, who was initially portrayed as an angelic figure, is shown to have a dark and unforgiving aspect to her personality. May himself is shown as an essentially good man who is hopelessly in the grip of his own self-destructive urges.

The descriptive language can charitably be described as dense and elaborate (and uncharitably as florid and long-winded). Paragraphs are tremendously long and at one point an entire page is used to describe the River Thames. There are a lot of adjectives and adverbs here! It worked well at the start of the book (although it did seem to pad things out and delay the real plot from getting going) but by the end it had grown wearisome.

In her quest for gritty realism, I am inclined to say that the author has gone a little too far. It's all just a little too oppressive, too dark and hopeless. The stench of sewage permeates every single page and every character interaction.

I really wanted to like this book. It promised everything I look for in a Victorian novel, but sadly I think The Great Stink goes too far in seeking the putrid reality of London in the 1850s. There is very little hope here, and one finishes the book with a dismal impression of humanity in which everyone is struggling for their own futile ends and no overall goodness or grace will ever triumph. Even our damaged hero changes relatively little; he remains self-destructive and chaotic, on the verge of descending back into madness. He finds no lasting peace.

Would I recommend this book? Perhaps, to dedicated fans of Victorian literature, but only with a health warning!

Equipment for Victorian climbers: puttees

Regular readers will be aware that, during my time in Glencoe, I did a bit of practical research into 19th century climbing equipment. It's a subject that has been very influential towards my writing. The Victorian pioneers climbed mountains in a very different way to the mountaineers of the 21st century, and I think as an author who also climbs, doing a bit of experimentation was an obvious step to take!

My old articles on the subject can be found here, but for the benefit of my current readers I thought I would write some new pieces on the items of climbing gear the Victorians would have used (especially the ones modern readers will be unfamiliar with).

First, the humble puttee.

This is an article of clothing that today will only be recognised by members of the armed forces, as I believe puttees still feature in their ceremonial uniforms. They were introduced in the 1890s to members of the British forces serving in India. In form, they are a simple strip of cloth or webbing, between one and four yards long,  with a thinner strip of stronger material sewn at one end.

This is how they were worn:

Image from http://goo.gl/TcQmx

The band of cloth is wound in a spiral from the ankle up the calf, finally secured by knotting the thinner strap. The entire assembly is designed to keep stones, mud, and snow out of the boot; it also protects the lower leg. Although puttees first saw common use in the military, they were soon adapted by mountaineers, particularly in the first years of the 20th century, to help keep their feet dry and warm in the mountains.

Modern climbers use gaiters for this purpose, nowadays commonly made of Gore-Tex fabric, fastened with a zipper down the front. Gaiters are waterproof and quicker to put on and take off. They do not freeze or fray, and commonly have a lifespan of many years. There is evidence that some pioneering climbers also used gaiters (made of canvas and laced or buckled instead of zippered).

Me climbing on Ben Lui in 2011.
I'm wearing a puttee on my right foot; the
left one has fallen off!

Despite the many advantages of modern gaiters, my experience of using puttees has led me to appreciate some of their unique benefits. Firstly, they are far more adjustable, and can easily be made as tight or as loose as the wearer requires. Although they are not completely waterproof, they are also more breathable than gaiters and don't make the feet perspire. They are far more durable than Gore-Tex material and can take a huge amount of punishment (a useful quality on an Alpine climbing tour). They are light and highly packable. Perhaps most importantly, a puttee is a very adaptable piece of equipment; it can be used as a bandage, a sling, or torn into strips and turned into a makeshift lashing.

I wore puttees for some of my Scottish climbs, and when climbing in deep snow they certainly keep the feet dry and warm. They froze solid on a couple of occasions, making the straps difficult to untie. Sometimes they came loose and had to be adjusted halfway through the day. In January 2011, when climbing on Ben Lui, the fastening strap of my left puttee actually came off altogether, forcing me to remove it and simply tuck my trouser leg into my sock!

I have recently been trawling Ebay for a new pair of puttees to replace my old worn-out ones. I managed to find two pairs of the short type--the older long ones are incredibly rare and difficult to find--and bought them for only £7.50 a pair in excellent condition. This time I want my puttees long enough to reach all the way up my calf, so I intend to modify them by sewing the two pairs together to double the length. I will be sure to report back on their performance.

In conclusion, puttees are a minor but notable part of our mountaineering heritage. They are a good example of how technology has been used, improved upon, and left behind by the march of progress. As a modern climber, using puttees instead of gaiters is an illuminating experience that helps the wearer understand the unique challenges of mountaineering in the 19th century. The full suite of Victorian equipment (long axe, nailed boots, tweed and all!) fills in the whole picture and is a very special experience, as we shall see in future articles!

Now reading: THE GREAT STINK by Clare Clark

Image from http://goo.gl/MMr20

I have just started reading The Great Stink by Clare Clark. So far I have only read the first twenty or so pages but already I can sense this will be a rare pleasure. In the first chapter, we meet the main character (William May, a mentally damaged veteran of the Crimea) as he delves deep beneath the stinking metropolis of mid 19th century London. The first few pages are a sensory punch in the face. I haven't been able to get the impression of much of a plot just yet; the pace is slow, at least to begin with, but the description is sublime.

I've been meaning to read more contemporary historical fiction, and as this is my era I'm sure this book will reward my efforts. I will, of course, write a complete review when I am finished.

Here is the blurb from the Waterstones page:

William May returns to London after the horrors of the Crimean War. Scarred and fragile though he is, he lands a job at the heart of Bazalgette's transformation of the London sewers. There, in the darkness of the stinking tunnels beneath the rising towers of Victorian London, May discovers another side of the city and remembers a disturbing, violent past. And then the corruption of the growing city soon begins to overwhelm him and a violent murder is committed. Will the sewers reveal all and show that the world above ground is even darker and more threatening than the tunnels beneath? Beautifully written, evocative and compelling, with a fantastically vivid cast of characters, Clare Clarke's first book is a rich and suspenseful novel that draws the reader right into Victorian London and into the worlds of its characters desperately attempting to swim the tides of change.

Sherlock Holmes and Young Winston: The Deadwood Stage by Mike Hogan (book review)

Sherlock Holmes and Young Winston: The Deadwood Stage
by Mike Hogan

The Deadwood Stage is the first in a series of books by Mike Hogan that explore a fascinating premise: what if a young Winston Churchill had joined forces with the famous detective duo, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson? The book is a Sherlock Holmes pastiche, which is a small but thriving genre in which modern authors write new Holmes mysteries.

I must admit, when I heard of the idea my first reaction was that it would be too far-fetched. However, as soon as I started reading this fine book I realised that my fears were completely unfounded.

This is a Sherlock Holmes story in the very best sense, almost completely indistinguishable from the originals written by Arthur Conan Doyle. I was particularly impressed by Mike Hogan's sensitive and intelligent depiction of Holmes himself. The character leaps out of the page, and readers who are familiar with the famous long-running Granada TV series of Sherlock Holmes adaptation will instantly recognise the voice of Jeremy Brett. It's like bumping into an old friend. The characterisation here really is remarkable and I must stress once again that this is indistinguishable from an original Sherlock Holmes story--while at the same time allowing the author's own imagination and flare to shine through.

The character of Watson is also excellently portrayed and, if anything, in slightly more depth than we are used to. His role as a man of medicine is explored and there are fascinating insights about the conflicting theories of the day, ie. 'miasma' vs. germ theory.

I'm sure you are all keen to hear about Winston Churchill's role in the book! In 1887, he is twelve years old and far more intelligent than his parents believe (they worry that he is backward). He falls in with Holmes and Watson as they work on their latest case, and soon proves himself an adept pupil of the science of deduction. The relationships between Holmes, Watson and Churchill are very interesting to watch as they unfold: in some respects, Churchill becomes a more valuable companion to the great detective than Watson, who feels a little left out. It's a testament to the skill of the author that the character of Winston Churchill is compelling, believable, and well-rounded. His presence in the book certainly is not a gimmick; he is vital to the plot.

The plot itself is a classic Holmes mystery, with murderers, falsely accused damsels, carriage chases, humour, and of course knotty problems solved by the science of deduction. Several historical figures play cameo roles, notably Oscar Wilde and Buffalo Bill. Like the original Holmes mysteries it isn't an easy read: the interplay of subterfuge and deduction requires concentration, and I'm not 100% sure I followed one of the threads correctly. To me it seemed that the Miss Caspar subplot had only loose connections with the main plot, but that may have been because I wasn't paying enough attention! Alternatively it may be of importance in the future books of the series.

The author is obviously at home with the period and the story immerses us in the sights, sounds and smells of Victorian London. Period details were everywhere and really added to the overall sense of authenticity. However, it certainly isn't a slow-paced novel and the focus is always on action and dialogue, not heavy description.

Overall the novel was brilliant fun and should be required reading for any fan of the original stories. Bravo to Mike Hogan for creating an authentic and gripping Sherlock Holmes novel, and I can't wait to read the other volumes in the series.

Facts and the historical novelist

Fact or fiction? 

The historical novelist has a very important responsibility. Most people stop formally learning about history at school, which means that as an adult, the bulk of our historical education comes from fiction: in the broadest possible sense, that includes books, movies, and costume dramas on the BBC. Historical fact is a precious resource that can be used (and abused) in numerous ways. Some fiction sticks religiously to the established facts and does not deviate to the slightest degree. Other work play fast and loose with evidence and fails at the first hurdle, needlessly introducing anachronisms that will irritate the informed reader.

As a novelist who specialises in the 'faction' genre (the blending of fact and fiction), I believe that the perfect balance lies somewhere in between these two extremes. I take my responsibility as an author very seriously, but I believe the average reader is intelligent enough to appreciate why changes are sometimes made to history in order to craft a good story--if it is carefully explained in a historical note at the end.

Let us consider the first scenario. An author who is unwilling to alter history in any way (or fill in the gaps where evidence is lacking) is enormously constrained. The resulting novel has no give to it; there are no areas where the author can use his gifts of imagination to smooth over the rough edges of history. Historical figures are limited to doing what the official record dictates--and nothing else. Moreover, unless the author is an expert in the period in question, the amount of research is going to be completely overwhelming and will take many years. You will never be able to learn enough to make the story 100% accurate, and you'll get so bogged down in research that the book runs the risk of never getting written.

In the second scenario, the author is intimidated by the idea of becoming an expert on a historical period, and conducts only the most cursory research. Errors creep in and they can sometimes be huge. Who wants to read a book in which a character in 1895 is listening to a radio broadcast ... unless it's steampunk? Readers who know their stuff will feel cheated and may give up on the book, and the less knowledgeable will come away with a warped view of history.

What's my own experience? My policy these days is, I believe, a sensible one for me: I learn as much as I can, then I make an informed choice on what to do with that data. I'm no expert on the 19th century, but I read constantly on the era and never get complacent. There is always more to learn. The history of climbing is a topic on which I have read even more extensively and I think I am finally getting to the stage where I can call myself reasonably well-read on the subject, between certain dates at least; after about 1935 my knowledge is very patchy!

My fiction deliberately makes changes to historical truth: it's alternative history, a subgenre that has produced some amazing 'what if?' stories. I choose a date (in my case, July the 24th 1896) and decide that everything after that point happens in a fictional alternative timeline. If suspension of disbelief is maintained, the reader is willing to accept this, provided the boundary is clear.

Full explanations are always given in a historical note, and changes are only made if there is a good reason to do so. I don't always get it right--readers have emailed to point out minor anachronisms--but I try hard and I think for the most part I do a good job.

SOME EXAMPLES

The original Fort William railway station

Fort William in the Highlands is a setting that features on several occasions in my work. In the present day, it boasts a modern train station. The casual researcher might assume that the railway station was always on that spot, but in fact when it was first built in the mid 1890s, it was some hundreds of yards from its present location--and looked completely different.

Map of the Fort before the old station was demolished
in 1975. The new station is just beneath where it says
'Distillery'.

In my book it is quite clear that the terminus is in the old location, next to the Loch. One reader, familiar with the town, emailed me to point out this 'error' but in fact this is simply an example of historical truth being carefully applied. Fort William has changed significantly since 1897 when my novel is set.

The Bear Hotel, Grindelwald. It no longer exists.

The Alpine town of Grindelwald, another location in OGJ, has changed even more drastically since 1897. I visited the town in 2010 to conduct research on the ground (a tactic I am a huge believer in, because it makes a place more real and you are free to explore in a way you cannot through the pages of a book). In OGJ, the characters stay at the Bear Hotel for a few nights. I wanted to find this hotel and have a look around to see what I could discover about its interior. How had it changed since the 1890s, I wondered?

I spent an entire day searching for the Bear Hotel before concluding that it no longer existed. A sports centre now stands on the promontory of land once occupied by the hotel. Unable to investigate the hotel in real life, I did my best with books and some old colour postcards of Grindelwald from the 1890s.

The Pelton Ring

One area where I have made subtle changes (while sticking within the boundaries of historical possibility) is climbing equipment. Readers will be aware that I have introduced the idea of short ice axes, crampons, karabiners, and pitons--all years before they became mainstream items of equipment amongst climbers.

However, I have done nothing historically impossible. Karabiners did in fact exist in 1897; they were patented in 1868 by a Mr Pelton (see diagram). Crampons had been used for many years by climbers and the addition of front points was a minor innovation that may have happened at any time under the right conditions. Even pitons had been used by climbers in various forms since at least the 1860s.

I am very careful to do nothing in my fiction that breaks suspension of disbelief, and while several events in The Only Genuine Jones might stretch it, that very quality has proven popular with readers. It's a bold story and most people seem to like that.

I tread a delicate line between fact and fiction, but I think my approach has many advantages: I don't pretend my work is a depiction of true events, and I enjoy a degree of flexibility denied to the strict historical author. I get to explore ideas and tell stories that otherwise would never see the light of day. However, I am very conscious of my responsibility as an author and would never want readers to confuse my stories with strict historical fact.

What do you think? If you're a historical novelist, what is your approach? As a reader, how much historical fact do you like served with your fiction?