An advantage of fiction…
- aksmith304
- Oct 5
- 2 min read
I’ve been very preoccupied lately with the launch of my second novel, Where No Shadow Awaits, which has been very well received so far (do check it out! Link on my website). But I thought it was time to think about other kinds of writing again. I’ve just written a review for The Ricardian Bulletin, the magazine of the Richard III Society. The book in question is the Life and Death of Richard III by Anthony Cheetham. This biography was first published in 1972 and has recently been rereleased with a new Introduction and Epilogue by the historian, Dan Jones. It is well-written, in a rather conventional way, and lavishly illustrated. It is altogether a rather beautiful object.
Anthony Cheetham is somewhat old school in his presentation of Richard III. He insists upon the truth of old narratives, relentlessly calling his protagonist a ‘usurper’ which is rather outdated now. After a very superficial examination, he concludes exactly what he assumed from the start: that Richard killed his nephews in the Tower. He notes, ‘Richard stands convicted not so much by the evidence against him as by the lack of evidence against anybody else’. (p. 167) This seems rather flimsy to me, but then Cheetham’s Richard is flimsy. He never really lives on the page, even though all the pictures do help to recreate the period. Is this because it is a straight forward, allegedly objective biography rather than a work of the imagination?
While on holiday recently I read the first volume of J. P. Reedman’s I, Richard Plantagenet (2015), a fictional version of the life of Richard III from the battle of Barnet in 1471, when he was eighteen, until just before the death of his brother, Edward IV, in 1483. I know I’m a bit late to the party on this one, but it was a great holiday read. Because it is a work of fiction, Reedman has the freedom to do what Cheetham’s biography cannot, enable Richard to leap from the pages and invite the reader into his world. This novel is every bit as well researched as the biography. All the same information about the Wars of the Roses is included, but in Reedman’s novel it is sensual and tactile, we breathe it in.
This is in part because of Reedman’s narrative choices. She gives Richard a voice. This first-person narrative enables her to get inside his head, no mean feat given the distance in time. But it works and the reader believes as we experience the events of that turbulent decade with him. Reedman’s Richard is convincing and nuanced. He is flawed but likable. He has honour even as he is troubled and at times ruthless. He has a sense of humour. Crucially, a reader could learn as much or more about Richard’s life from reading this book as from reading Cheetham’s biography, but this is much more fun! I’m confident that this will be the case for much comprehensively researched and well-written historical fiction. This is just one example. I am very much looking forward to reading volume two!
(Obviously also a reminder to readers of my own Richard III novel, an alternative history, The Solace of the Common People, link on my website, aksmith.co.uk)
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