The feminization of period drama: Are we to blame gender for inaccurate historical fiction?

Last year, James Delingbone caused an uproar around social media when he blamed the “feminization of culture” for the recurrent erroneousness in historical fiction. Although part of an ongoing debate, Delingbone’s insistence to bring gender into the equation, enraged and shocked many. Not that there were no bases for his reproach, but he failed to realize that since its origins, historical fiction, particularly historical romances, has targeted women.  Feminine tastes and demands have shaped the genre, and one of its tropes is the bending of historical events to spice up the plot. Lately we’ve seen a reaction to that state of things, the rise of more “masculine” period pieces. Nevertheless, historical incoherence also comes to play a part in these new shows. So, who is to blame?

Let us go back to the article that started this controversy. In April 2016, James Delingbone published on The Spectator a piece called “ITV's Victoria is silly, facile and irresponsible – I blame the feminization of culture.”  Under this overlong title, laid a negative review of Masterpiece’s “Victoria,” another one of those biopics about Her Royal Highness, Queen Vicky. Delingbone had a point since the series presented a lot of fluff and very little accuracy.

We are too cute to be historical!

The first season had irked me tremendously, so I embraced Delingbone’s accusations that the liberty taking with historical facts in “Victoria” felt like “one giant upraised middle finger to those of us who value history.”  I also applauded his demanding of a responsible attitude from the part of historical drama producers and a commitment to their public: “you owe it to your audience to cleave as close as you reasonably can to the known biographical facts.”

Sadly, Delingbone went on to spew offensive (and untrue) statements such as “I suspect it’s probably true that boys, being of a more transporters disposition, more jealous of their facts and their period detail, are more likely to be resistant to Victoria’s ersatz charms than girls.”

Oh, Dash, apparently only dogs and girls like me!

Delingbone forgot that macho costumed potboilers such as “Spartacus”, “Black Sails,” and “Vikings”, also twist historical facts. Slave-turned-gladiator Crixus didn’t have sex with his Domina Lucretia: Alfred the Great was Ragnar’s contemporary (and already king when the Vikings reached England); and Blackbeard died in battle, he was never keelhauled by governor Woodes Rogers.

Ragnar and Little Alfred. In real life, they were about the same age.

From its beginnings, historical fiction has forayed into the land of speculation to make it less “dull”, and to fill in gaps. Many of those gap-fillers wore pants. Mary Stuart meeting Cousin Bess was Schiller’s invention, Shakespeare forged Richard the III’s bad reputation, and Spartacus was crucified only by Stanley Kubrick.

Although we tend to associate early historical fiction with seminal writers such as Alexandre Dumas and Sir Walter Scott, Gothic literature was the first field where depictions of the past became a norm. Women Gothic authors such as Anne Radcliffe, Maria Edgeworth, Clara Barton and Miss Sophia Lee were instrumental in blending romance, horror and days of yore. Particularly, Miss Lee, who in the years prior to the French Revolution, wrote what may be the first historical romance, The Recess. She even subtitled it A Tale of Other Times.

Drifting from the Middle Ages, Gothic’s favorite scenario, Sophia Lee moved to the Elizabethan Era to deal with historical figures such as Mary Stuart, Queen Elizabeth and her courtiers. In real life, The Queen of Scots bore a set of stillborn babies, product of her marriage to Lord Bothwell. In The Recess, the author provides Mary with a fourth husband, The Duke of Norfolk, who fathers her twin daughters. Ellinor and Matilda grow up to plague poor Aunt Elizabeth’s life. Not only do they threaten her throne, they try to steal her boyfriends! Ellinor falls for domed Earl of Essex, Matilda goes on to marry Robert Dudley.  (what happened to Amy Robsart and Lettice Knollys?)

The Recess gave birth to tropes associated with historical romance to this day: the amalgam of romance and history; the alteration of real events to suit storytelling; beautiful unconventional protagonists, and the highlighting of characterization over action. This latest form of literature caused controversy. Philosopher Willian Goodwin (Mary Shelley’s father) bemoaned in his On History and Romance, that the new genre “debauched and corrupted” history.  He also noticed that women and boys were historical romances main readers.

Since then, historical fiction has been associated with a feminine audience. Nineteenth century literature mirrored such interest.  In Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen presented us with a protagonist obsessed with Gothic fiction.  Young ladies of leisure like Stendhal’s Mathilde de La Mole were hooked on Walter Scott’s historical yarns. Louisa May Alcott’s Old-Fashioned Girl professed to despise Ouida’s popular French novels preferring instead the work of German author Luise Mulhbach, because her novels “are historical.”

In my own youth, I learned history thanks to period drama and historical fiction written by Anya Seton, Daphne Du Maurier, and the exalted Jean Plaidy, she of the many pseudonyms. In the late 70s, fresh from high school, I became acquainted with the infamous bodice-rippers, a cocktail of  romance and erotica,  dressed in period outfits. Critics can label such literature as pulpy or trash, the truth is that it confirms historical fiction as a feminine turf, therefore we cannot talk of a “feminization” campaign.

 Going back to “Victoria,” Delingbone’s main peeve was with the beautification of characters. He complained about Jenna Coleman looking gorgeous (“more than the dumpy Victoria ever did”) and Lord Melbourne played by “smoldering” Rufus Sewell. He particularly objected to the fictitious romance between Melbourne (a portly and gray gentleman in real life) and his sovereign.

 I wasn’t bothered by that romance.  Gorgeous protagonists and romantic interests are elements of the genre, and real dumpy Victoria could have had a crush on Lord M.  Young girls tend to fall in love with father-figures who offer them kindness and consideration. Since Vicky was called “Mrs. Melbourne” behind her back, rumors about a dalliance must have been in the air in her early days on the throne.

Real life Melbourne and his dumpy queen.

Slender. and...

Smoldering. The traps of historical romance.

What I did mind, and I totally agree with Delingbone’s complains on the subject, was that unsightly rat episode. Buckingham Palace was not Hamelin, it was never overrun by rodents, and Queen Vicky did not go into hysterics on seeing mice sprouting, like a chorus girl, from her birthday cake. Most importantly, there was never a hint in her behavior that may have led to believe that she could have inherited King George’s madness. That need to show women of the past, whether they are Queen Victoria or Jackie Kennedy, suffering from “the vapors” or throwing hysterical tantrums is the product of misogynist minds.

Queen Vicky didn't give us cake!

Despite Delingbone’s assertions, women do cringe at historical inaccuracies. I have often been accused of being a pedantic nitpicker for grumbling about certain phoniness that tinges period pieces. Modern sensibilities have become so distant from that of our forebears that any attempt to recreate bygone eras must be stuffed with absurdities to make historical characters more relevant to us, Third Millennium audience.

The current fashion is to adjust events in historical fiction to fit into the canons of political correction. Whether we like it or not, the great upholders of political correctness tend to be feminists. It is them that demand that historical context doesn’t challenge their ideology. But not only feminists fall prey to the habit of reflecting contemporary views on ancient settings. Were Roman matrons as foul-mouthed as their counterparts in “Spartacus?”  I doubt it, and yet the gladiator series is an example of the “masculinization” of period drama.

 In “Black Sails,” another macho tale, I was shocked to see Mrs. Guthrie offering Max a white powerful husband who could become the new governor of Nassau. Aside from the fact that as a former slave/bisexual prostitute, Max was not precisely a candidate to be the toast of Colonial Philadelphia’s high society, the color of her skin barred her from becoming the wife of any 18^th century gentleman.  Such marriage would have  been as anachronic as Marie Antoinette and her ladies doing drugs in the Sofia Coppola movie.

At least in Coppola’s film the fashion of Enlightened Versailles was well-researched. The same cannot be said of “Reign,” the series describing Mary Stuart's youth. In that show, The Queen of Scots wears anything but what an early Sixteenth century noblewoman would. Those see-through blouses, those sleeveless dresses, those leather riding pants… What are they thinking?

Mary, Mary quite contrary. This is not what queens wore in the 1500s

 In 2008, historian David Starkey ranted in The Telegraph against the Victorian carriages used in “The Tudors.” I second his ranting. As women who claim and reclaim historical romance as our territory, we must also demand as much historical veracity and context as possible in it, especially when it comes to everyday life items such as costumes and furniture.

There are those who will oppose this crusade, claiming period drama is not a history class. This recalls Adelaide Kane’s flippant answer when confronted with the historical mishmash that is “Reign”: “How many teenage girls do you know that are obsessed with history? I know I wasn’t at that age.” Thus, our sweet Mary, Queen of Scots, confirms to Delingbone, Starkey and those of that ilk, that they are right. Girls are to blame for historical inaccuracy because they don’t care, because they are not “obsessed” with history.

Disregard for historical details breeds fashion disasters.

The danger is that teenage girls (who obviously are the target for Kane’s show) learn what-passes-for-history from “Reign.” Hence, they will go on thinking that Mary Stuart was raped by courtiers, killed Catherine De Medici’s bastard daughter and had more lovers than the poor woman could fit in her bed. We say that customers are not supposed to teach history, but in the end, sex romps like “Versailles,” “Reign, “and the Iberian “Aguila Roja,” do much worse. They combine false depictions with soft porn and end up in the weirdest and most useless history lesson any audience could stomach.  

There should be limits to creative license, balance between fantasy and the spirit of authenticity, and as James Delingbone demanded, responsibility to the public. Just as the worst fanfiction is the one that strays away from the original, a freely inspired adaptation of historical events won’t guarantee a quality product. From the moment  a piece claims to be historical or based on actual incidents, there should be a commitment to deliver a story that is at least 80% truth. After all, sometimes reality can be much more fun than reprehensible and inaccurate clichés. Don’t you agree?  

A Game of Three Queens: Reign ‘s last season finally remembers history

For its final season, “Reign” has chosen to regale us with three different geographical settings, each under the rule of a powerful woman. Mary Stuart is now attempting to rule Scotland. Catherine of Medici won’t surrender the power to her son, the new king of France: and in England, Elizabeth I worries about her cousin coming to steal her throne. But before the closure, this fanciful series is facing its greatest challenge, one it has avoided so far. The scriptwriters are hitting history books and trying to come up with the real Mary, Queen of Scots, and the true events that shaped her last years and legend.

Season Four is closing these disparate (ergo, lots of fun) series with a topsy-turvy set of events. Mary crying over Catherine’s shoulder and asking for advice on matters of the heart? King Charles of France becoming a Protestant? Queen Bess doing drugs with pirate John Hawkins? David Rizzio bearer of prophecy? This stretches the limits of the farfetchedness that “Reign” had us used to. And yet, all this craziness does have some basis on historical events.

Such novelty may come as a shock to the show’s faithful fans, the ones that thought that Mary would end up marrying Bash and living in the forest with the druids.  They shouldn’t worry much.  The French arc still embraces the series’ noblest tradition of dealing strictly with historical inaccuracies…And Boy! Are they coming out with outlandish stuff this last Season!

First stop: Dull England

This is, so far, the series’ weakest storyline.  By herself, Elizabeth Tudor is a dull character. The Elizabethan period and those who experienced it are fun, but their monarch? Noo.  Too virginal.  Aware of that fact, historical fiction indulges in speculation. Following that trend, authors have field days guessing how many lovers the Virgin Queen really had, and if she gave birth to one (or more) royal bastards.” Reign” is no exception to that trend.

Last season saw Elizabeth carrying Robert Dudley’s child, pregnancy that came to a halt when the queen miscarried due to a poison Lord Cecil slipped into her cup. Sad, but not incompatible with history. The fact that Elizabeth’s most trusted courtier acted out of love and jealousy added a piquant touch to the whole intrigue. Could it be that in real life prim Lord Cecil experienced romantic longings for his sovereign?  Time to write some fanfiction on the subject.

Elizabeth’s faux-accouchement coincided with Amy Robsart Dudley’s historical fall from her mansion’s stairs. Dudley became a widower, but he and his royal mistress were under a dark cloud. Bessie tried to save her lover by marrying him off to her rival. That is factual truth, Dudley did (half-heartedly) court the recently widowed Mary. However, the series has him returning to the English Court married to Lettice Knollys! In fact, Dudley did impregnate and marry his Queenie’s cousin, but that happened eighteen years into the future.

Dead Amy Robsart 

Distraught Elizabeth drives Dudley, pregnant Letty, and besotted William Cecil into exile. She is left without a boyfriend and without a counselor. Who does she have on hand?  Ambassador Gideon, a man dull in looks as well as in character. Queen Bess spends this season doing useless things: concocting plots to keep cousin Mary single, trying to entertain dying Agatha Gideon’s last hours, attempting to convince contemptuous noblemen that she can be as jolly as Dad Harry when it comes to hunting. Did anybody in England missed Fat Henry that would be won over by Elizabeth’s resemblance to her tyrant’s father?

Finally, the writers take pity on the wretched queen and get her a proper companion: privateer John Hawkins. He has just run afoul the Spanish authorities for stealing some gold. Philip II wants Elizabeth to surrender the cad, but Hawkins convinces the queen that he is much more useful in England. After doing absinthe together, eating tomatoes and playing with the turkeys (she calls them “large chickens!”) Hawkins has brought from America, Elizabeth gives her new chum leave to plunder the New World.

I thought Bess and Hawkins would do the nasty on the dining room table, but instead, she’s bedding Gideon. Really, Bess!  Gideon? Anyway, Hawkins is an authentic item. He was Sir Francis Drake’s cousin. He did work for the Spaniards until he thought it was time to change bosses.  By 1564, he had just returned from Santo Domingo after selling slaves there. Yes, that is his dark side. Perhaps we should let “Reign” convince us that Hawkins only trafficked with live poultry.

 In La Belle France

Let us begin with Claude, the most superfluous and insufferable character in the three kingdoms. I have given up convincing anybody that the real Claude de Valois was plain, lame and a hunchback to boot. Moreover, at this stage she was already a wife and mother. Some fans have tried to identify Claude with her youngest sister Marguerite who does not appear in this series.

The real Claude de Valois

Still, La Reine Margot, beautiful, passionate and sexually liberated as she was, had much more common sense than Claude. We begin this season with the princess mourning Leith’s untimely passing. Claude is shown crying, scowling, praying, but being Claude, soon ends up in a married man’s bed. Caught by her intransigent sister, Claude gets an ultimatum. Either she marries or is charted off to the nearest convent.

Claude in mourning

Lord Narcisse (slurp), recently returned from England, conjures up a son named Luc who marries slutty Claude. Being that “Reign” is strictly speaking a soap-opera, Leith materializes from the grave. He wasn’t dead after all. Narcisse quickly throws him in a cell and keeps him there until the marriage has been consummated. On finding the truth, Leith and Claude are devastated. The ever-pragmatic Luc offers a solution. All he wants is an heir. Provided that occasionally, Claude lets him try to impregnate her, he has no qualms about her cavorting with Leith. Claude embraces the idea of a threesome. Leith is not enthusiastic at all, and departs for unknown lands. Claude is back to her pouting. Too bad “Girls” is over. Vapid and self-centered Claude could fit so well into that crowd (she even resembles Jessa.)

Claude's second wedding

In another corner of the French Court, The Valois are holding a family reunion.  Queen Leeza has come from Spain for an extended and unwelcome visit.  Apparently, she is now her husband King Phillip’s ambassadress. and in Paris to survey how well her family fights Lutheran heresy. If she finds their efforts are too lukewarm, she is to report immediately to His Most Catholic Majesty who will proceed with the fusion of both companies. The French and the Spanish brands. 

Of course, Leeza (who is much older, bigger and plainer than the real Elizabeth De Valois) is carrying in her chest a huge load of childish grudges against Mommy Dearest. She wants nothing better than to provoke an incident between France and Spain. In this she is helped by brother Charles who, since he became king, has been putting on his most revolting Joffrey Baratheon act.

Frist Charlie led us to believe that he was into killing bedmates just to satisfy some necrophile wish. Thank heavens he was not using Bianca for target practice, just frightening her into watching skeletons and his face stained with blood. Blood? Yes, for a moment I also thought Chuck to be one of “The Originals.” And then, half-eaten corpses of children began to show up in the countryside in the spots where Charles liked to wander at night.  Was the King an early Bete de Gevaudan? The peasantry thought so.

Finally, Catherine manages to put a leash on her unruly pup. Charles addresses a crowd with tales of big bad wolves captured and killed to prevent them from feasting on the flesh of their children. The peasants are no fools, they still believe their king is a cannibal and to prove it a bucket of pig’s blood is hurled, a la Carrie, to Charlie’s head. 

The poor boy goes bonkers and hides in the forest. Mom Cat comes after him and gets the story of how Charlie, still traumatized after seeing friend Thierry burnt alive, can only exorcize that image by eating live squirrels and smearing his face with their blood. Ok, if it’s for therapeutic reasons… The problem is that Charles has no desire to reign or live in the palace. Leeza is ecstatic. A kingless France needs the ruling hand of hubby Phil.

Tireless Catherine and loyal Narcisse travel the countryside and track down the king leading the rustic life with some peasant family near Meaux. After sampling pigeon soup, and thanking the family for their hospitality, the royal entourage convinces Nicole, Charlie’s new peasant girlfriend, to come and look at the Court. and yeah, bring the King along too, Girl!  It is only when they are all well set in The Louvre, that Charlie drops the bomb. Nicole’s family was Huguenot, they converted him, therefore he is now a Protestant king!

 Poor Leeza, she is so put off, she has no strength to protest. She packs herself back to Spain, and promises to keep her mouth shut provided Protestant Charlie is sent to the nearest Bedlam while little Henri is crowned king instead of his mad brother. Catherine leaves such matters in the competent hands of her prime minister and Nicole (who has a crush on Narcisse) and departs for a Scottish vacation to give advice to the forlorn Queen of Scots.

Nicole and Reign's Charles

Before getting to Scotia where all sorts of exciting things are happening, let us rewind a little and see where did this French salmagundi sprouted from.  in real life, Charles was a bit touched in the head, and he had a rocky relationship in his mother. He did have a son with a woman, Marie Touchet, who was not an aristocrat. His mother and he did embark on a trip all over France around that time, but he was never a Protestant.

The real Charles IX and Marie Touchet

Elizabeth de Valois, Catherine’s favorite daughter, did arrive in France for an official visit in 1564. She had just had a miscarriage and was longing to see her mother. With his wife, Philip did send an envoy, the Duke of Alba. His purpose was to warn Madame Serpent (Philip’s loving nickname for his mother-in-law) that Spain didn’t like how the French were handling the Huguenot problem.

 Meeting the royal party in Bayonne, Catherine went on to throw a humongous court festival to entertain the Spaniards. It was designed to show  Alba that France was still magnificent and prestigious and would not stand bullying from any other country. That is the truth behind all these Gallic shenanigans we had been watching this Season.

Meanwhile, back at the Highlands

 Mary finally returned to her Queendom where she was received by a druid faction. Apparently, the druids were only Scottish subjects to welcome her presence. On Caledonian land. Mary has had to contend with rebellious clans, Protestants everywhere, John Knox’s intrigues and a cute, but not so trustworthy James, Earl of Moray, who happens to be her half-brother. 

Mary and the very cute Lord Moray. Too bad they are not Tsrgaryans.

Taking a page from Catherine’s book, Mary is learning to use Machiavellian solutions. To test his loyalty, The Queen has Moray behead a clan leader who had impudently kidnapped her. Then sends her brother to seduce (and gather intelligence through her) Emily, Knox’s young wife. At the time, Knox was married to a young woman named Margaret, not Emily, and Moray was already married to Agnes Keith. But “Reign” has chosen to add more spice and drama to the real events. Scorned Emily has taken a terrible revenge. One that had Mary exiling her beloved brother. In real life, Moray abandoned the Scottish Court in protest of his sister’s marriage to Darnley.

Now that we mention him, Lord Darnley is proving to be an onerous chapter in Mary’s disastrous love life. Just like the real Queen of Scots, Adelaide Kane’s character is boy-crazy and has trouble keeping her knickers on. The Fourth Season opens with Mary engaged to Lord Gideon (yes, that man is everywhere,) planning to abdicate and live happily ever after in some English castle. Reason sets in, Mary will always be a peril to Elizabeth, her life will be endangered, and the Scottish people need her. Although this last point is debatable, Mary boots Gideon out of her heart and sets her cap for getting back at Bess. The best way is to be crowned queen of both England and Scotland, and her ticket to the throne is called Henry Darnley.

 Let me stop a second to explain why Darnley makes Mary’s claims more legitimate. They are first cousins; Margaret Tudor was granny to both. Lady Lennox, Mary’s obnoxious new mother-in-law, is Henry VIII’s niece. They all descend from The White Princess. They are totally Tudors.

Darnley has royal blood, plus he is gorgeous. So, Mary wastes no time and screw him in a hallway. A bit too soon, because Darnley reveals himself to be a drunkard and an undependable lout. Mary keeps on getting warning chits of paper laden with anti-Darnley propaganda.  The warnings are signed by “The Loyal Watchman.” This mysterious protector turns out to be THE Earl of Bothwell.

 The moment The Queen runs into James Hepburn at a tavern (how appropriate) we know that this is the only man capable to fill in Francis ‘boots. Next to him, Darnley is a worm. And yet, Mary’s fangirls (those who know their history) are screaming: “Run, Mary, run! Don’t fall for his pony tail, for his sassy Orlando Bloom grin! Bothwell is TROUBLEEE!!!” But this time, love and history will rule here.

Mary-Bothwell run high in my list of historical shippings. We know so little of how that romance evolved that I’m buying every silliness the scriptwriters come up with. The tavern, the boat ride, the forest trek, Bothwell declaring his love in a dark corridor on the eve of Mary’s wedding: Bothwell telling her that he vowed to her mother to keep Mary safe. I was touched by that reference to Marie de Guise. Mary’s mother was one of those historical figures that underwent character assassination in “Reign.” It is befitting that someone remembers how much she loved her daughter.

However, David Rizzio (who is gay just as in real life) pops up in the middle of a forest, like some Tolkien character, and delivers Mary a druid prophecy.  She can either have love or an heir that joins England and Scotland forever. What Mary doesn’t realize is that she has no choice. Her tumble with Darnley had consequences. She is carrying the heir, so she must give up love.

 But my Lord Bothwell is not one to deter easily. On her wedding night, while the drunk groom snorts, the Queen, from her window, sees Bothwell lurking under her balcony. SOOOOO ROMANTIC! 

And yet, where this is going to lead? Mary to the scaffold, Bothwell to die in chains, and mad, in a Danish prison. But, but…this is “Reign.” If they have spent four years playing with history, why change now? Could we see Mary and Bothwell living happily ever after?  In “Reign” everything is possible.

Welcome to Based on Bygone Events

I can’t remember when I fell in love with historical fiction, although I know that I learned to read with picture books depicting Empress Sissi and Franz Joseph’s Vienna.  I didn’t have television until I was eight years old, so while my first-grade classmates were obsessed with “Flipper” and “Batman,” I had my nose firmly buried in Treasure Island, Ivanhoe and The Last Days of Pompeii. I was not only learning history through my readings, I was also taking sides. At age nine, I couldn’t decide who was the worst foe in the Civil War: The Union that almost burned Tara and kept Ashley Wilkes a prisoner, or the Confederates, who kept Reverend March from returning to his Little Women.

I grew up hooked on  books, films and  tv shows set in bygone days. My hobby paid off on my senior year, when I got the highest grade in my class in the Social Studies Regents. My history teacher advised me to devote myself to the study of past events. What none of us realized then was that being a historical fiction fan did not make me a historian, a fact I learned in college from dull classes where I had to cram my head with dates and statistics. I loved historical novels precisely because they romanticized true events.   On that note, I switched majors, from history to comparative literature. It took me years to learn another lesson. History makes the greatest literature precisely because it is based on true events.

Humans are in love with the past, that’s a fact. Our past, our ancestors ’past, anybody’s past. It’s why period dramas and historical fiction always have a following.  Television overflows with homage to bygone days, whether it is a nostalgic view to recent decades (“The Americans,” “Call the Midwife”) or shows like “The Crown,” “Reign,“ or ”Victoria” that satisfy our incessant, almost snobbish, curiosity with the private lives of royalty.

Sadly, this proliferation of historical but fictional material does not guarantee quality products. The genre has given birth to facile clichés that have become the Cliff Notes of producers, writers and directors.  There is practically an ideological need to implant modern canons of political correction in stories set in times when such canons were unknown. Finally, just as it is easy to grab hold of clichés, it is also easy to cloak weak scripts with sex and gore. The result is that a public who never cared much for history lessons feels it’s being educated by this pseudo historicity. It comes to a point when we have people thinking “Game of Throne” does take place on The Middle Ages. After all, it is not less fantastic than “Versailles” that supposedly covers the scandals at The Sun King’s court.

Philippe D' Orleans and Chevalier de Lorraine. Renly and Ser Loras of Versailles

 It’s been an old dream of mine to draft a blog devoted to period pieces, but I resented competing with so many fine ones already in existence. I needed a different angle, and the mediocrity that affects recent examples of the genre seems to provide it, but I just don’t want to focus on historical blunders. We have the excellent Hollywood vs History for that purpose. What I want is to review period pieces looking for reasons behind the manipulation of historical facts.

 I would analyze how fiction has shaped the image of public figures in popular imagination.  How has "Taboo"changed our perception of the Regency Era?Why is it that we yet can’t make our minds as to whether Anne Boleyn actually committed adultery ? Could it be that mean Bloody Mary was, in fact, the lovely, sensitive, abused child of “The Tudors”?  If Bonnie Prince Charlie was really the nincompoop portrayed in Outlander, why has he become such a beloved legend?

I would also like to examine how fiction endeavors to solve historical mysteries like the possibility of Perkin Warbeck being one of the Princes in the Tower or what really happened in Mayerling.  Was Cesare Borgia his sister’s lover? Why did the Queen of France gave birth to a black baby? And so many more examples.

I hope this blog will attract other historical fiction addicts as well as those immersed in historical research. I will concentrate on films and television series, but I will also mention literary works and historian’s point of view when it is deemed necessary.  So…Welcome!