As an author of modern-day Women’s Fiction, I find that reading Historical Fiction and of the Victorian era gives me room to breathe and imagine, or re-imagine, if you will, new twists on possibilities for plots in the modern era.
The modern era in wiping away the constrictions and hesitancies of the individual, and family have left little with which to struggle.
We are so open, and out there, self-exposed, and seeking our fifteen minutes if not fifteen seconds, of fame, that little if anything, remains hidden, yet to be discovered or yearned for.
And yet we do long…for what I am not quite sure. Perhaps it is to belong, be a member of. But alas, nothing remains of which to seek freedom from.
I think this is the draw of historical fiction. Make no mistake, life and times of the Victorian and other historical eras were fraught with pains and tribulations.
But within the demarcations set for women and me wherein to live and breath and act, there was a sense of place, even if that place was that against which many railed and ultimately found definition and meaning.
Unfortunately today, in lacking any such boundaries many individuals are but wandering souls, empty and with nothing in their lives around which to coalesce their living and adjure meaning.
I look to historical and Victorian women’s fiction for the sheer enjoyment of reading an old-fashioned love story where you don’t have to feel guilty for the patriarchal atmosphere and aesthetics that has it positive qualities.
Nothing is as bad or awful as it appears or we remember, nor is it as wonderful or great as we for which we hope and would like to imagine.
The past, like the present holds its beauty and its challenges.
Surprisingly I find the women of this era have much more freedom in some things than do those of us in the present.
As a writer, I also find that historical and Victorian fiction offers fodder for re-imagining plot twists on the conflicts women face whatever the era.