Show a Little Class
By Dave King | April 19, 2016 |
Ruth and I are binge watching Downton Abbey at the moment – and, yes, Maggie Smith’s Dowager is even more fun the second time around. For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it draws much of its drama from the slow collapse of the class system at the end of Edwardian Britain. This isn’t too far back in our history – many people grew up hearing stories of that time from their parents or grandparents – but it’s still a little hard to imagine a world in which your entire life was shaped by the strata of society you were born into.
In fact, it’s so hard to imagine that writers of historical fiction often get it wrong. I’ve run into too many historical novels in which the main characters ran around the world without a care, when in real life they would have needed a retinue of servants to keep up their lifestyles. I’ve seen other characters who had servants but treated them with a familiarity that’s commonplace today but unheard of in centuries past. Or characters who were servants but chafed against the restrictions of their station in life in a way earlier generations couldn’t imagine.
Jo Baker’s Longbourne, which tells the story of Pride and Prejudice from the point of view of the servants, opens with Sarah, a maid, doing the week’s laundry. As she struggles with frigid water from the pump, slippery floors, and lye soap that eats into her hands, she is acutely aware of the everyday smells and hardships that an ordinary servant of the day would have grown up with and taken for granted. And when she thinks that “really no one should have to deal with another person’s dirty linen,” she is clearly seeing her world from the point of view of someone who owns a washing machine. Did she really expect the quality to scrub their own underwear?
So make sure your historical characters are living in the history that actually happened. Lower class people in earlier ages doubtless resented their masters when those masters were cruel – there were peasants’ rebellions from time to time. But it never would have occurred to them to question the hierarchical system that had maids doing the dirty work for the aristocracy. For one thing, class distinctions were something you could see – and smell. As Sarah knew, it was a lot of work to boil water to wash clothes, so the lower classes didn’t change as often as we do today. Even as late as the nineteenth century, shirts had detachable collars and cuffs, so you could swap out the parts most likely to get dirty and wear the shirt another day – or several.
Bathing became more accepted over time – it was nearly nonexistent between Rome and the Renaissance – but required nearly as much work as laundry, so it was a luxury that the lower classes rarely experienced. Soap was harsh and expensive, shampoo and toothpaste largely unheard of, and the substitutes for toilet paper don’t bear thinking about. Not to put too fine a point on it, the peasants were revolting.
As well as better hygiene, the upper classes got better nutrition – meat was a relative rarity on tables outside the manor house. As a result, the aristocracy were taller, stronger, and generally healthier than the peons. Even during the First World War, British society was shocked when the American Doughboys arrived. The corn-fed farm boys who made up the army seemed like giants compared to the British lower classes, who had spent the last few generations ill-fed and ill-housed.
But there was more to the class system than just forelock tugging and malnutrition. I’m not familiar with how the rest of the world did it (though I suspect this was true in China and Japan, as well), but I know that in Europe, the strict hierarchy that shaped life on earth echoed the structure of life in heaven. The celestial sphere was full of crisp, inviolable divisions of power – archangels and angels, cherubim and seraphim, all under an omnipotent God. The earthly realm, with an all-powerful king or pope, emanating authority down through dukes and earls, cardinals and bishops, brought the divine structure to the human realm. Even the elements that made up the physical world were filed in descending order – heavenly fire, followed by air, water, and lowly earth.
If you were born into a system like this, you might not like where you were, but it would never occur to you to better your life by overthrowing the system. The class system was literally the natural order of things – society structured on earth as it was in heaven. How could you overturn a system God had built into the very bones of creation?
And accepting your station in life wasn’t entirely reason for despair. Living on the same land for generations led people to identify with the local lord in a way that’s hard to imagine in today’s mobile society. When the aristocrats strode in splendor to take their places in the front of the cathedral, the peasants in the cheap seats were more likely to feel reflected pride than resentment. These were their lords and ladies, after all.
Writers of historical fiction aren’t the only ones who don’t pay enough attention to class. Granted, it’s no longer true that you are stuck in the station you were born into, and a lot of the snobbery that kept the aristocracy from mingling with the literally unwashed masses is no longer justified. But we humans have been dividing ourselves into social strata since the beginning of history – which was, after all, invented to record the stories of kings. That urge hasn’t gone away, even if it’s no longer fashionable to talk about it.
So as you create your cast of characters, bear class in mind. Do all of them live in the same sort of housing? Do any of them have to worry about money? Or keeping a job? Or having a job? Or finding something presentable to wear? Granted, there’s nothing wrong with writing a novel whose characters are all from the same class. But tossing in a few characters from different classes gives you more chances for conflict, for misunderstandings, for apparently irreconcilable differences – for drama, in short.
And how does a sense of class fit into the makeup of each character? How do they judge others, particularly when they first meet them? You’re much more likely to get a job if you come to the interview well dressed and well spoken. You’re even more likely if it turns out you went to the same school or belong to the same clubs as one of your interviewers. Are your characters aware of their own class markers – of what people will think when they see their car, or watch, or shoes? We may not talk about it any more – because we’re all equal now, right? But class consciousness still plays a role in our society.
So how can you see class playing a role in your fiction? I know that different classes have very different attitudes toward spending, which can drive a rift between two lovers, for instance. Where has class played a role in modern fiction — since The Great Gatsby.
[coffee]
Dave King has been editing for nearly 40 years now. He is co-author of Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, a former contributing editor to Writer’s Digest, and has contributed more than 100 articles over the last 12 years to Writer Unboxed. He lives on 25 acres in rural Massachusetts with his business partner and wife, Ruth Julian, who also edits his work. His other day job, at least on Sundays, is as the organist at a Lutheran church in Greenfield, Mass.
I happen to be watching Downton Abbey for the first time myself. The relationship between the servants and the masters of the house is what I find most interesting, as well as the fact that most of the servants accept their place, much as any of us would accept any job.
I’m currently working on my Navy Brat middle grade historical series. As a former brat, I know well the class structure within the military as well as the issues the brats faced at their public schools. Not all civilian kids, but some, were resentful of the military brats, seeing them as outsiders. The brats themselves would mostly congregate with each other, probably helping to bring about some of that prejudice.
And, of course, you had officer’s brats and enlisted brats. That was a whole different social structure. Since my dad rose through the enlisted ranks to warrant officer, I’ve seen all sides.
I hope I can reflect those various social structures in my writing, and writing it for a middle grade reader is double the challenge.
Thanks for the post!
Yes, the class system would definitely play a role in the lives of military brats. Excellent example, thanks.
Brilliantly pointed, Dave. I work in an epic fantasy genre, where the classes of society are very stratified like medieval Europe, but the social pressures are more like those of Downton. The knightly and mage classes have little to do, because the truly evil races were thrown out centuries ago. Everyone- servants and lords- takes the job their parents had because they revere tradition. But what do the nobles really have to DO? That’s the question that gets posed by the action of the tales as the baddies begin to rear their ugly heads again.
Noble is an adjective- that’s a major theme and it’s a great subject for writers to wrap their hands around. We do indeed assume a kind of democratic default and it can be glaring especially in genre fiction.
Interesting questions. I do know that, in real life, the nobles were supposed to actually run things — to dispense justice (a lot of English country squires were also magistrates) and to act as landlords to most of the county. Even their passtimes — the hunt, the grouse shoot, deer stalking — controlled local wildlife pests and put food on the table.
But if you do have a society in which the nobility’s only job is to look pretty and turn up their noses at everyone else, then you’ve certainly got a premise for drama. Especially if they have trouble doing anything else. Sounds like fun.
When your only job is to ‘look pretty and turn up [your nose] at everyone else, that is still a ‘job’ – in fact, it’s a full-time one where you’re always ‘on-call’, even if you’re not really in the mood. You have to smile at the right persons, be in the right place at the right time and look interested when you’re not. Being invited to the right events was part of their JOB, hosting events and inviting the right sort was part of their job. You could look down on your servants or those of lower rank but there was always someone higher ranking than you too. All aristocracy and nobility are not created equal – in the UK for example there are royals, dukes, marquis, earls, viscounts and barons then non-heriditary titles. But a royal earl is higher ranking than a non-royal duke and even within royalty, a royal highness (HRH) is higher than a highness (HH like Monaco’s ranks).
Both women and men were required to always know the current fashion and spend a very long time dressing appropriately – it was not enough to be born into the nobility, you had to constantly work at the social game. Especially if you were not first born male (under primogeniture, only the first born male inherited everything and in some places and times, the careers of younger sons were pre-determined by their order of birth – military (rank of officer was bought not earned), church (rank and prestige of parish often bought as well), etc.). You had to gain permission to marry – sometimes from your eldest brother or your parent (and in the case of royalty, permission not granted by the monarch made the marriage invalid). Your approved spouse for both male and female was more about the family good than your personal good or preference – if big brother wanted you to marry Jane to improve the family (his) ranking, then Jane would be your wife.
So when you write about what your idle nobility does, be sure to remember that their friends (and sometimes spouses and in-laws) were social climbing backstabbers they had to constantly compete with. Their actions could be as much restricted as the lower classes; they could not be seen to be familiar with the ‘wrong sort’, they could not have unacceptable hobbies, they were not allowed to work (it was disgraceful – when they ‘ran’ estates and households, it meant they oversaw the staff doing it, they did not do it themselves – for example they might sit and watch as rent was collected but they did not collect the rent themselves). They could be called on to serve their ‘betters’ (the ladies-in-waiting or grooms of the stool of royal houses, for example, were not servants but extremely high ranking nobles themselves who fought and schemed for the right to wipe their master’s butt or wash their mistress’ soil undies – literally – look it up).
It’s far too easy to think that life was easy for the nobility because it was certainly less physically strenous and arguably less demeaning than life of the lower classes…but I think that robs authors of so much potential for drama. And I haven’t even mentioned the in-between classes or ‘middle classes’ and bourgeoisie. Consider for a moment that only the eldest son gets the title and family fortune. If you’re the second son or so, you might get a title if your father was high ranking enough but it isn’t hereditary. So your sons are born without titles – your sons are born ‘commoners’ but they are not lower or middle class either. Yet for them and definitely their sons, it is near impossible for them to be considered suitable for marriage into the nobility. Imagine the drama that causes!
And then the women and how they and their inheritances and dowries made them pawns in the social game. So much story potential! Look up Jane Grey the 9 day queen…no such thing as nothing to do!
Thanks, Matt, good thoughts. And if you’re tempted to think the upper classes had it easy, watch Game of Thrones.
By pure coincidence, the following article showed up last night in the online version of The New Yorker. It expands on some of what I’ve said above.
https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/04/25/learning-to-talk-about-class
Dave, I enjoyed your article. I grew up in a very class-conscious society and when I write stories about Indians, it is natural to include it. Even now, though one is not supposed to discriminate based on the four major Hindu classes, people do so all the time. I always thought it very hypocritical that Christians in India look back to the religious class of the ancestors, esp. when it comes to marriage. Comments like: “That Kshatriya girl won’t do, not for my Brahmin boy.” this are common. And forget Hindu-Muslim / Hindu-Christian marriages. They are rare though a staple of Bollywood. Great fun.
Fascinating, Vijaya. As I said, I don’t know much about how class was managed in other cultures — though I have heard of the caste system, of course. Was it based on the structure of the universe? I seem to remember that it’s rooted in the Vedas.
And I suspect cross-religion marriages are a Bollywood staple because they contain so much inherent drama.
Yes, the caste system is based on the Vedas with everything in the universe having its proper place.
A beautifully written and well-considered article. I really enjoyed reading it.
I find myself wondering about the general complacency of the lower classes. Is that human nature–to mutely accept one’s lot in life? I believe we are no different than the ones who came before us. We love, we hate, we covet, we conjecture.
Just because the lower classes stunk doesn’t mean they didn’t think. History shows there was plenty of class resentment. Without years of seething hostility, the Bolsheviks wouldn’t have had any meat for their economic and political philosophies.
It is true that the lower classes were not unintelligent. But I think it’s hard to imagine the degree of indoctrination that the class system rested on. Most of the lower classes were illiterate and had probably never been further away from home than the nearest village. I think it is human nature to accept your lot when you literally cannot imagine the world any other way.
It wasn’t until literacy became more common that you began to see the stirrings of a democratic sensibility. A lot of the early Protestant Pietist movements (which embraced literacy) rejected the Roman Catholic hierarchy of priests and bishops in favor of “the priesthood of all believers.” And it was Puritans who rejected the divine right of kings rather emphatically with the beheading of Charles I.
But even then it took time to build the idea that rejecting the class system was even possible. That’s why the American experiment was so radical in its day. The idea of basing a government on the consent of the governed was considered atheistic at the time because it overthrew God’s natural order. Even so, it took another century and a half of whittling away at class consciousness before the Bolsheviks managed to gather enough resentment to overthrow the Tsar.
It’s easy to look back now and imagine hoards of peasants yearning to throw off the yolk of tyranny imposed on them from above. But I don’t think it was like that. Being a peasant was a hard life, but life was hard, and that’s the way it was. You found what joy you could on earth, and you looked forward to a reward in heaven.
I wholeheartedly agree about the link between literacy and rebellion. In a way, the United States suffers from a related form of “low information.”
There have always been those who question authority, but you’re right when you say the largest percentage never examine the hand that feeds them. After all, the past is prologue;-)
Dave, LOL marvelous. I got to the peasants were revolting line and had to dry my screen.
Am reposting this to my online SFF crit group. Yeah, we make it up as we go, but you couldn’t have done a better job of pointing out just how unequal we all can be.
I wish I could take credit for that line, but I lifted it from Brant Parker and Johnny Hart of The Wizard of Id.
And then Chicken Run used it… “The chickens are revolting!”
I believe there’s a Monty Python connection, as well.
Thanks for the reminder! To which I’d add, please get forms of address right. They’re different depending on the class of the speaker and the person being addressed, and writers very frequently get it wrong.
Absolutely, Jane. In a world where distinctions mattered, people paid inordinate amounts of attention to matters of precedence. And whether they should be addressed as “your grace” or “your excellency.” Paying attention to those matters as a writer gives your world a sense of verisimilitude.
What makes us think that we are erasing class distinctions? We may all look like we shop at Gap, meat may now be cheap, but class strata are as strong as ever.
Every town and every city has their own unique class structure as well. We live near, drink, play, worship and marry people like us. Never mind civil rights and that red-lining is illegal, all communities are gated.
The challenge for fiction writers is to capture class differences not only as they truly were (thanks Dave) but as they are now. In my workshops it starts with naming the strata, then progresses to their history, grudges, lore, celebrations and unspoken rules.
Writers themselves have class strata and distinctions. Those most successful, ask me, are those who stay out of the clubhouse and work harder at perfecting their game. (Not that golf is the perfect analogy, mind you.)
Good topic, Dave. We can count on you to identify where craft is weak and point us toward a better fictional world.
BTW, it’s primary election day here in New York and the classes are turning out in record numbers. Never seen such a turnout at my local poling place.
Thanks for your thoughts, Don — interesting as always.
I had thought about including something on the modern signifiers of class and the way people often buy their way into higher status. After all, a $100 Seiko keeps time as well as a $5,000 Breitling, and I once heard a Range Rover described as a Jeep with $20,000 stapled to the hood.
I absolutely agree that the writers who are most likely to make good are the ones who care more about the work than about their status as writers.
And as to small town class distinctions, a neighbor here in Ashfield (now passed on, sadly) once commented on the vast cultural differences between Upper and Lower Apple Valley.
Thank you for such a thought-provoking article! I’m endlessly fascinated by this topic and the ways people sort themselves into a hierarchy in any group. Even groups that seem homogeneous from the outside have subtle class distinctions (the Freudian “narcissism of small differences”).
You mentioned how people buy their way into higher status, but there are subtleties even there. For example, in some groups having obvious designer labels is considered gauche, so the “higher” strata people will skip the Louis Vuitton purse and go for the Hermes (which has no visible logo, is much more expensive, and can be difficult to get without connections).
Another example: I attended a top law school, but people made distinctions based on where they went to undergrad and what they majored in. A philosophy major said to me (an engineering major) that she didn’t respect people who majored in STEM fields because learning something practical required less intelligence than learning something theoretical. Yeah, O.o was my reaction too.
I agree with Donald Maass that the class system in the US is alive and well. I also think there’s an additional danger–class mobility, or at least the appearance of it, makes people believe that people are in the class they deserve as opposed to the class they were simply born in. We no longer believe in the divine right of kings, but this makes it easier for some to blame the lower class for its own problems.
This is such a rich topic that can be mined for great stories.
“I also think there’s an additional danger–class mobility, or at least the appearance of it, makes people believe that people are in the class they deserve as opposed to the class they were simply born in.”
Sharp point!
I was at a philosophy conference that showcased some of the campus snobbery. The distinguished main speaker addressed the subject of who reads philosophy today. He said that fellow philosophy professors and students are pretty much the only people interested in philosophy. He added that some professors in the English department read philosophy but that they do not understand it. There were four English professors in the lecture hall who got up and walked out. I recognized them and felt horrible but no one else seemed to notice.
Philosophy students are told that we are the “big guns” because, on average, we score highest across the board in standardized tests which cover writing, critical thinking/reading, and mathematics. But, I don’t agree with this.
As a trained philosopher, I now wish I had gone through a STEM program.
Additional comment: I love the Humanities! But I should learn more technology and engineering so I am not lost here in the new world.
I’m kind of in an interesting position. I have a Bachelors in philosophy. Then, after graduating, I went to work at Columbia University’s geology lab (Lamont-Doherty) and began working toward a degree in computer science. I also took a couple of courses in cosmology from Dr. Joseph Patterson, a brilliant professor who also inspired another of his students to make good — Neil deGrasse Tyson. I was distracted by editing before I could get my degree, but I was running data analysis at Lamont before then.
In general, I’m glad I got the humanities degree, since I think they do teach you to think clearly. But I’ve found that a grounding in science, particularly the cosmology, also opens your eyes to the world in a new way. So I suspect the science/humanities divide is another of those great false dichotomies, like nature vs. nurture or Coke vs. Pepsi.
When I heard the learn’d astronomer…
Oh, and it’s good to hear about the turnout. Class distinctions may still exist today, but I really think that democracy works pretty well when people get behind it.
Hi Dave.
As always, yours today is a post worth reading for both the medium of your prose, and your message. Thank you.
I encourage any writer interested in knowing more about class in modern America to read Paul Fussell’s book, Class: a guide through the American status system. As Fussell points out, the distinctions are less pronounced than in Europe, but definitely present. Here, for instance, schools are especially important–witness the obsession with declaring one’s university allegiance on bumper stickers and decals, clothing, etc. It is important to both graduates and their parents to proclaim these connections, and to identify other birds of the same feather.
Language and how it’s used is also very important. We listen to others, and make class judgments about them based on how they speak. I make heavy use of this idea in my most recently completed project. A young illegal alien (the classier term is “undocumented alien”) is obsessed with mastering accent-free colloquial American English. Along with knowing how to dress and act as white, this obsession has enabled him to bridge the racial and ethnic divide.
A fascinating subject. As for novels that attempt to present life from the point of view of the working class in bygone times, that really takes some doing. Since they were essentially chattel– property–workers are never seen or heard from in a book by, say, Jane Austen. And since few workers could write, a researcher is limited to letters, and descriptions by upper-class writers. After WW1, things loosen up–some–as we see in Downton.
You know, in reading your post, I realized just how radical Dickens was in his day. He created poor or working-class characters who weren’t either Shakespearean clowns or furniture with feet. Readers actually got to meet street sweepers (Jo, in Bleak House), illiterate blacksmiths (Joe, from Great Expectations) or even petty thieves (Dodger, from Oliver Twist) who were fully-developed human beings.
And thanks for the reference to Fussel’s book. I wasn’t familiar with it.
This is a wonderful post, Dave. Thank you.
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
Yes! These same issues drive me insane when I’m reading serious fantasy fiction. Otherwise well-built “worlds” disintegrate when the human relationships do not reflect (or at least address) believable sociological architecture. I’m so happy you wrote this post! :-)
Thanks, Elizabeth. Can you think of any examples offhand?
I am not Elizabeth but I agree. I recently read a really nice book about a Faery princess loved a human and a lower-class Fae. The only issue the author seemed to think would have happened would be Fae vs human. I don’t think people realize what rank means or why it’s done. Your prestige, power and even who you can marry or socialize with is linked to your rank. Everyone who enters pushes others down a rank, further from the center of power (the monarch). In the UK for example, Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, (aka Kate) is currently more senior than Anne, Princess Royal (the Queen’s own daughter) who bows to Catherine! Baby Charlotte (Catherine’s daughter) is also higher ranked than Anne, etc.
There’s no way the only issue was Fae or not Fae – the princess’ younger siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins etc would never have wanted to bow to a lower-ranking Fae so they would have opposed that marriage just as much if not more than to a human…it might have been easier to accept an outsider than someone who grew up ranked below you!
Good example, Matt!
I have read several swords-and-horses fantasy books in which nobles express regret for inconveniencing servants, worry about their well-being, and even go so far as to apologize for making them work hard. Everyone’s just so darn “equal,” the societies don’t “add up” to an authentic feel.
Another example : characters often bathe and change clothes every day (or at least far more frequently than the setting would suggest.) The fabrics for their clothes don’t fit the technology of the time period. Food on the table comes from locations with which trade relations hardly seem possible (sugar? pineapples? chocolate?)
I love whimsical worlds, and I can accept whatever rules an author places for them.
When the story’s supposed to be “real” feeling, taking the time to consider historical accuracy moves this reader from “liking” to “loving” a story!
One of the nice period touches in Patrick O’Brien’s Aubrey/Maturin stories is that the below-deck sailors kept their long pigtails well greased. It gives you a sense of what life was like before the mast.
And you’re right about the nobility worrying about inconveniencing the servants. If they didn’t kick them, they were treating them civilly.
THANK YOU for posting about this. I read a lot of historical fiction as a copywriter and, while some authors are careful historians, too many others base their stories on sometimes quite outlandish examples of people breaking rank, as it were, in both directions. We love stories about people who buck the system I guess.
In a novel I’ve been working on for a few years, class distinctions are quite important, as are racial caste systems, and it can get ugly. It was important to me to keep the characters honest in their assessments of each other. This can make for some uncomfortable dialogue, stuff you wouldn’t want the reader to think was YOUR opinion as the writer. And I wonder if, on occasion, some of the class-busting statements like the one Sarah makes about the laundry come from a place of discomfort in the writer who doesn’t want to be misconstrued as supporting a particular, now-distasteful viewpoint.
There’s a good deal of fear in making a misstep, especially when writing characters who are unlike you or perhaps from a different social strata, because even well-meaning people get called out on things they would never have imagined someone would get angry about. With comments sections and reader reviews open to everyone, there are lots of potential punches coming in from every direction.
I hadn’t thought that historical writers might fudge on the class distinctions because they didn’t want to be seen as supporting a repressive system. But I think you’re right, that may be a factor.
That’s why it’s so critical to put yourself into the heads of the people who lived back then. You need to really recreate the sense of the world as it was. If you can do that, then the class consciousness will be seen as part of who the characters are rather than something the author is advocating.
I thought of this in response to an earlier comment that mentioned class in fantasy fiction. Think of Frodo and Sam in The Lord of the Rings. There was a real relationship there, based on mutual respect. But there was also a subtle deference on Sam’s part and a slight condescension (in a good sense) on Frodo’s part.
Of course, it takes a lot of work to hit the right balance. But no one ever said writing was easy, did they?
Excellent piece, though it fails to mention that historical fiction–like science fiction–tries to say something about the Now more than it tries to say anything about the Then. So when writers get something historically–or scientifically–wrong, it’s often in the service of furthering their story, which is trying to be a mirror-image of Now. Writers often know that they’re incorrect about something, but do it to serve the story. They just can’t be too egregious about it, is all. Even Shakespeare, for whatever reason, purposely referred to clocks in Julius Caesar.
True enough, Steven. Though I suspect a lot of anachronisms in historical writing — including Shakespeare’s striking clocks — are matters of inattention rather than subtle deliberation.
Have you seen Upstairs Downstairs? It’s a precursor of Downton Abbey by some years, and in my opinion a little more in your face about class and eventual class war.
While it is true that a lot of people didn’t speak up publically against a system that was structured to keep them on their knees, the sentiment against this system was nothing new. Its long rumble was the catalyst for the works of William Blake and Thomas Paine among many others, and for both the French and American revolutions.
I have an Irish ancestor that was imprisoned by the British for teaching Irish children to read. The revolt against the rigged system has seeds that go back as far as the system itself.
So, while there were many people who resigned themselves to their lot, there would also have been many people questioning their lot. History is proof of that.
When I said that people resigned themselves to their lot, I was thinking of a time a bit further back that Paine and Blake. As I said, the sense that hierarchy was part of life started to erode with the spread of literacy and the protestant reformation. The scientific revolutions that moved the earth from the center of the solar system helped as well. By the time of the American Revolution, there was a growing current of thought that was rejecting the old hierarchies, and things just picked up steam from there. Literally, since the industrial revolution also helped to break the system down.
In fact, you could make the argument that most of the modern revolutions have been revolutions against the existing class system.
And I loved Upstairs Downstairs. I think I’ve seen the original series twice and enjoyed the new series as well. I’ve even liked the Thomas and Sarah spinoff, though I’ve loved Pauline Collins and John Alderton since their Woodehouse Playhouse days.
Thomas and Sarah, yes!
I agree you can make a very valid argument that most modern revolutions are against the existing class systems. Look at our political scene currently.
I’m also however, looking further back then Paine and Blake. Even way further back than the Renaissance. I think the point can be argued that as long as there have been class systems there has been a resistance to ’em. I’m thinking Akhenaten and his rebellion against the priests of Amon and the ancient Egyptian status quo. And I’m quite certain there could be many examples prior to a pharaoh’s rebellion lost in the dust of time…
Thanks for the intriguing post this morning, it’s fascinating stuff, no?
Oh, definitely fascinating stuff. And I hadn’t thought about Akhenaten. But I wonder . . . was he trying to overthrow a hierarchy or replace it with another, better one. I know a lot of peasants’ revolts involved replacing their masters with better masters.
The oppressed become the oppressors. Brings to mind the writings of Paulo Freire for one. Perhaps the more things change, the more they stay the same?
Also, I’m trying for research purposes to find parallel stories in the pre Judeo-Christian worlds to the rebellion of Lucifer. I’m not having much luck. Do you have any references you can point me to?
Thanks again, for an intriguing post.
I mentioned this one before, but one of the things that makes Alan Gordon’s Fools Guild books feel authentically medieval (late twelfth, early thirteenth century) is that the Guild simply assumes that nations need to be ruled by a king. They just try to make sure the right guy winds up as king.
I can’t really think of a pre-Christian example of Lucifer — the pure light-bringer who was corrupted and became evil. There were evil gods in other mythologies, of course, but I think they were just there. You may need an omnipotent monotheistic deity to need that kind of explanation for evil.
Thank you.
I am going to check out the Fools Guild.
Your post and thoughtful comments are much appreciated.
This is what I love about the WU blog. I hit a wall, and find catalysts here for renewed inspiration.
How about Prometheus (bringer or fire to mankind)? It’s not quite the same but it was a rebellion of sorts between the gods (Titans and Olympians) over man…kinda?
Point, Matt.
Class distinctions in today’s fiction.
Hmmm. There was a novel written recently about a young woman who interviewed maids of upper-class families and wrote about it. I can’t remember the title.
There were race (and class?) distinctions in Do The Right Thing.
Ah, yes, The Help, by Katheryn Stockett. That was primarily about race, which was inexorably intertwined with class in the Jim Crow south. But now that I think of it, there was Celia Foote, the lower-class woman desperate to break into high society. In the end, Celia develops a genuine friendship with her black maid, Minny. And, of course, Skeeter was considered a traitor to her class for sticking up for the help. A nice example of the interplay between class and race.
Isn’t strange to refer to the big, strong Americans as corn-fed? I was told that the human body is unable to digest corn.
Actually, “corn fed” is simply a metaphor for well-fed, since chickens and pigs fed on corn tend to plump up nicely.
While THE GOLDFINCH wasn’t really about class distinctions, it did portray them. First, in New York city. Most of us are aware of the class distinctions in Manhattan. But then, we are told that there is a different hierarchy in Vegas. In Vegas, family names, looks and money are not what puts you at the top of the list, it’s how long your family has lived there. This is how it was with high school students in the novel, anyway.
There are class (student classes!) distinctions made in most high & Jr. high schools, but they are usually based on popularity with socials/cheerleaders, jocks, student government, brainiacs, burn-outs.
As Erin was getting at above, I think many novelists write historical characters with modern attitudes not because they don’t know history, but because readers want to relate to and cheer for heroes. They’ll find it difficult to relate or cheer if those heroes don’t share their 21st-century values.
I once read a novel that took place in ancient China. At the end, the teenage heroine showed how “strong” she’d become by cutting off ties with her abusive parents. I was like, “What the heck? No young woman in the Ming dynasty would think it’s a sign of strength to abandon her filial duties. To her, strength would mean forbearing with a smile, not rebelling.”
But then I realized the author couldn’t have written the ending any other way, because her readers are modern Americans. Modern Americans expect protagonists to be independent, open-minded, and sexually liberated, regardless of when or where the novel takes place.
If the heroine of that book were to act realistically, bowing her head to her horrible parents and marrying whomever they chose for her, readers would be livid. They’d attribute the heroine’s choices to her weakness of mind, not to her Confucian upbringing. They’d rant about how “stupid” she is and accuse the author of setting a bad example for girls.
I think this is why many authors resort to time travel. They want to write historical stories, but historical protagonists aren’t relateable. Enter the mysterious amulet! A bit of abracadabra, and you can have all the fun of a medieval setting, but with an independent, open-minded, sexually liberated heroine…and no history buffs can find fault with you! Mwahaha!
I think you’re right about time travel. A lot of fantasy fiction also runs on transporting modern characters into medieval settings — and doing the wash by magic!
But you have put your finger on a real problem with writing authentic historical characters — how do you make them sympathetic when they weren’t like us. But that raises the question, if you don’t want to write about realistic people of past times, why choose to write historical fiction in the first place?
One of the things I love about the discussions sections of these articles, is that they are rich with fresh ideas. In fact, this question might turn into an article in itself sometime soon.
Hi Dave,
Thanks for your great post. The “conflict of the classes” is such a universally important theme, even today. You’re right to mention Donald Trump and the type of voter who supports him, as class is arguably playing a vital role in this year’s election cycle.
One point I want to clarify. You mention Longbourne (which I haven’t read) and the mistake made when using an “ungrateful” servant as a POV character. The one thing I would add is that, in certain instances, I think it’s appropriate to show these types of feelings, as long as they don’t go overboard. Yes, most servants of that era would not have entertained such inner dialogue, but the fact there has been a striving throughout history toward greater equality suggests that a few servants must have entertained such thoughts, even if they were in the minority. And, I suspect, it is those outliers who tend to make interesting protagonists.
I suppose the trick, if one is to remain faithful to historical norms, is to make sure the supporting characters are products of the time period, even if the protagonist entertains such heresy. Moreover, that the protagonist who sees things a little differently is not so different that he/she seems completely alien. Pushed boundaries tend to be pushed a little at a time.
Am I seeing this correctly?
Thanks again for a great column.
All the best,
Matt Jackson
I think you do get it mostly right, though I’d argue that there hasn’t been a striving throughout history toward greater equality. That really only began in relatively recent times. Most of antiquity was comfortable with a king essentially owning the entire country, and even under the Roman Republic — the classical era’s big experiment in self-governance — the distinctions between patricians, equestrians, and plebeians were pretty sharp. And before the American experiment, democracy was mostly known as the system of government that had killed Socrates.
I think the thing I found grating about Sarah in Longborne wasn’t that she was unhappy with her job. I could easily imagine her complaining about how the housekeeper expected too much and wishing she could have a lie down on some sunny heather somewhere. It was her sense of being a victim of an oppressive system that stuck out for me. Thinking that no one should ever have to wash anyone else’s small clothes assumes an egalitarianism that I just can’t imagine showing up that early in the century.
Very well put.
Thank you for the much-needed wake-up call, Dave. I’m writing fantasy; not quite medieval Europe, although the culture is fairly hierarchical. Although I started off the earliest chapters fairly well in line in terms of class issues, I realize now that I’ve been veering away from it. I have no excuse: I’m a sociologist, for one, and I *created* this hierarchy, and deliberately wrote characters who would have class issues (a noblewoman in love with her childhood friend, a servant). But there are so many other things going on (the cursed house that keeps killing people, the villagers trying to sabotage her, the cousin wanting to marry her, etc.), and of course, so many other aspects of the characters’ personalities to consider, the class thing has gotten lost in the shuffle. Next thing you know, they’re all just hanging out drinking and laughing like old buddies. Which they are, to some extent, but… Well, back to revisions.
Thanks for the reminder.
Glad I could help. And as a sociologist, you know more about how class works than I ever will. If you have any further thoughts . . .
By the way, I just checked, and I would recommend the relationship between Frodo and Sam in The Lord of the Rings as an example of someone who gets class right. They are close, trusting one another with their lives. Yet right through to the end, Sam is “Sam” and Frodo is “Mr. Frodo.”
Good example, of Frodo and Sam. I have the servants going back and forth; they mostly call her ma’am or my lady, but they do have closer moments when they revert to first-name basis. I’m having a hard time finding the right mix. Your example makes me think should rethink that, maybe never have them use her first name; after all, Sam does have very personal conversations without ever changing that.
The catch here is that one of them was her only real friend as a child, and later her first crush, and the other is his friend who she went to for support and advice. These three servants/friends are the only people who stayed loyal to her when she was brought down by scandal and lost her fortune. So it makes sense that *some* amount of softening of those barriers would occur (especially because she tries to resuscitate that romance again later). I’ll definitely want to take a closer look at how much, though. Food for thought!
“maybe never have them use her first name”
Sometimes the title is also kept to remind people of ‘their place’, as scandalous as that sounds today. For example, you say her servants were the only ones who stayed loyal to her but you don’t say she became one of them – in fact, I infer from your story that they remain her servants. If they do, they will probably prefer to continue with the formality to help them remember ‘their place’. Think of it this way, you work for Jane Smith – outside of the office you have drinks etc, but it’s easier to accept a workplace order from Ms Smith than from Jane. Once it becomes servant-mistress, it’s definitely easier to accept cleaning up after Ms Smith than after your buddy Jane. So you might love Jane as a good friend but it helps you remember that your friendship isn’t among equals if you call her Ms Smith. Hope you understand what I mean – good luck with your story!
Yes, that’s just what I was thinking. Except in this case it might be more driven by them keeping her in her place then the other way around, trying to bolster her up and remind her that she’s still in charge.
Excellent article, Dave, with many important points to remember when writing of other times – or even of the present..
I will be circulating it around my writing groups.
Interesting post and discussion. My YA WIP takes place in the south in 1950. I have to be careful not to give my African American protagonist thoughts/urges/desires she might not have had–quite yet. Pre-civil rights era-the 50’s are different than the 60’s. Thanks for bringing this to light. Also very interesting discussion about the “haves” and “have-nots.”
This actually comes back to the earlier discussion about making your characters sympathetic even if they don’t react the way a modern person would react. From what I’ve read, one of the things that lead people to give in to an oppressive system — one that they couldn’t change — was that, rebellion often got other people besides themselves punished. As I understand it, the Klan didn’t simply beat up individuals they felt had transgressed. They vandalized entire neighborhoods. That might keep a reasonable person from rebelling.
This post let to a new tweak in my story. Writing historical fiction that is accurate and not just what we want to think may have happened, is very tricky. At least I can interview people who lived through the 50’s!
Great post, Dave. I’ve been bothered by this issue in historical fiction, too, especially regarding women’s roles.
Class distinctions in today’s world, earned and unearned, and the stereotypes that reinforce them are at the core of my work. Endlessly fascinating! And a way to get at the social justice issues Jan O’Hara encouraged us to consider (https://staging-writerunboxed.kinsta.cloud/2015/06/15/a-call-to-pens-writer-as-social-activist/).
Thanks, Barbara. And thanks for the link to Jan’s article. Holding up an honest mirror to how we see class is a way for writers to make a difference in the world.
Sorry I commented so often but the post AND comments were fascinating! :)
Another modern work of fiction where class played a role is THE KITE RUNNER. There was a lower, uneducated, servant class. (I don’t know why I didn’t think of this novel earlier.)