Guest Post: Jeanne on "To Smoke or Not to Smoke?"

Jeanne of the Bristol Public Library is back today with another interesting guest blog…

To Smoke or Not to Smoke?

Recently I blogged about how certain things can date a work, whether an author intends for it to or not: use (or lack of) certain technological devices, brand names, or social customs.  This time I’m turning the question around to ask how these things work in historical fiction, especially social custom.

The idea was prompted when a patron commented on a recent episode of the series Endeavor. She felt it was inappropriate that there were so many people smoking because it set a bad example.  I’d heard a similar comment about the amount of smoking and drinking in Grantchester, and of course much was made of all the smoking and imbibing in Mad Men. All these series are set in a time before the general public was aware of the dangers of smoking and are, I feel, true to their time.  An article in the NY Times about Mad Men interviewed a number of former advertising folk and while some of them felt the smoking, drinking, and other attributes were exaggerated, others felt it was the right amount—or not enough.

To bring this back to books, when I read Mary Stewart’s first novel, Madam, Will You Talk? I was struck by all the smoking and drinking.  Were I to read this in a modern book set in the 1950s, I suspect I would think this all overdone; but this book first appeared in 1954. Is it a more or less accurate picture of its time period?  Certainly my reaction to it is based on current trends or else I probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

Which brings us to the question, accuracy or adaptation?  When writing a piece set in another time period, should an author try for authenticity or adjust for modern sensibilities?  This isn’t a question I have an answer for, but it’s one I’ve pondered.  In many cases, it seems to me, the author’s solution is to have a cast of unusually enlightened folk and allow the unpopular contemporary notions to remain with non-sympathetic characters or else poke fun at an outmoded idea.

My gut reaction is to remain true to the time, but that can bring with it a host of problems often in regard to attitudes toward women, other races, or other social questions whose answers are very different today than they would have been even a decade ago.  For example, a recent article reprinted a number of “Dear Abby” letters from the 1960s; by today’s standards, most of the advice was cringe-worthy, but reflected the attitudes of the times and—as the article’s author points out—reflects a reality modern readers may not fully understand.  For me, that was never done better than in Doomsday Book by Connie Willis.  A student from our future goes back in time to study the “contemps” of the 14^th century.  Kivrin is an enlightened young woman who has studied the era extensively and tries very hard not to render judgments but whose observations are strongly influenced by her modern views.  By the end of the book she has had to revise some of her feelings because for the first time she truly understands what life is like for the ordinary person of that era.  To be more specific would constitute a spoiler, but one scene in particular made a strong impression on me—and made me think of things a bit differently.

What do others think?

Mad Men article link

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/22/magazine/22madmen-t.html?_r=0

 

Dear Abby link

 http://theweek.com/articles/635529/dear-abby-advice-insanely-sexist?yptr=yahoo

Guest Post: Jeanne on "(Brand) Name Dropping"

Please welcome back Jeanne of the Bristol Public Library with a few thoughts regarding brand names in stories. When I think of this sort of thing, I think of Stuart Woods and his Stone Barrington series where the brand name dropping is everywhere on nearly every page. I don’t think so much about how such tactics can date the work. It does and Jeanne shares some examples below.  

(Brand) Name Dropping

Years and years ago, I was reading a novel which mentioned a character watching a Star Trek rerun. This would have been around 1972 or so, when I was an ardent Star Trek fan before there was a real organized fan network, so the mere mention electrified me. I went on to notice that the author mentioned other things by brand name, such as Noxzema.  I was surprised but at the time I thought it made the book seem immediate and up to date—the show was playing every afternoon in syndication on a semi-local station, so that made perfect sense. I was impressed.

A few decades down the road, I’m not so sure.  It’s not so much the product placement (a concept I’m not sure was around then) but product longevity, something that seems in short supply these days.  More and more it seems that when I pick up an older book, there’s some reference to a company or product that has gone extinct.  It’s a little disconcerting when the book would almost seem to be contemporary because it instantly reminds me that it’s not.  To pull an example from a comic book, I vividly remember a scene in a Batman comic in which Bruce Wayne receives a video tape sent anonymously.  He looks at it and comments that at least the sender had the sense to send a Betamax tape.

Is there a show of hands of folks who know the significance? Uh… how about people who remember Betamax?  Okay, how many know what Betamax was? I’m only half kidding, because most of the people with whom I work would not understand at all that the dialog was intended to reinforce the image of Bruce as a connoisseur, someone who appreciated the higher quality picture that Betamax afforded.  To readers now, it would indicate he was hopelessly outdated and would evoke laughter.  I’m sure that should the story ever be reprinted, the Betamax reference would be expunged.  It certainly wouldn’t be first to undergo such revision:  there are a number of children’s books which have been updated for various reasons, including outdated language and stereotypes.  The Nancy Drew series has been updated several times, starting in 1959.  Some fans still mourn the loss of the blue roadster. (Or was it maroon?)

It’s quite a different thing if a writer wants to evoke an earlier era.  Then the references to people and products are a deliberate attempt to show readers when they are, though sometimes the authors have to word things carefully to make sure readers know what is being discussed.  For example, if a character in the early 1970s is enjoying a delicious Smoothie, the audience should understand that it is not a drink but candy somewhat like a Reese’s Cup but the peanut butter is covered in butterscotch.  Most recently, I encountered this in Joanna Cannon’s The Trouble with Goats and Sheep; she named dropped then current TV shows, celebrities, candy, and other products to remind people of the time period.

On the other hand, there are authors who use such deeply contemporary books as sources for their own historical novels.  Most recently I heard David O. Stewart discuss reading period novels for his new mystery, The Babe Ruth Deception, in order to check for slang expressions. He also commented on that some of the books were difficult to read because the sentence structure and vocabulary were so different from contemporary novels. (Stewart is an historian and lawyer and author of several non-fiction books, but he has a series of historical mysteries set in the early part of the 20^th century. He was being interviewed on the radio show Your Weekly Constitutional  about the special place baseball has in Constitutional law.  Really.  You can listen to the podcast at https://www.montpelier.org/center/radio.)

So, authors, you may want to consider how long you expect your work to be read before you have a character walk down the street absorbed in Pokemon Go!

(Note:  I am reasonably sure that the first book I mentioned was The Mephisto Waltz by Fred Mustard Stewart, which I recall as being a nifty little horror novel along the lines of Rosemary’s Baby.  Our library doesn’t hold a copy so I couldn’t check to see if the reference to Star Trek was there, which would confirm its identity.  It was published in 1969, so that fits.  A recent review by Lobstergirl at Goodreads calls it “wonderfully dated” with “ghastly product placement.” Ummm,  well, that probably fits too.)