In which I think back to historical novels

I am blatantly stealing Jenna's idea, so I hope she doesn't mind!

I too became interested in history through more popular means than my 'Integrated Studies' classes of grades seven and eight (and yes, for some reason geography and history were lumped together under that unappealing name). Something about fur-traders and the plaines d'Abraham just didn't peak my interest. But I read many historical novels for 'tweens' - or whatever we were called back then - and I thought I would share some of my favourites.



Karleen Bradford, The Nine Days Queen

I loved this book when I read it. It got me completely interested in Henry VIII and his wives. The book revolves around the short life of Jane Grey, whose mother was first cousin to Henry. When Henry's son, King Edward VI dies, a Protestant faction puts her unwillingly on the throne for nine days, until she is unceremoniously thrown in the Tower of London by the true queen, Mary I. Later she is beheaded. The fact that it was a true story made it such an exciting book, and it had everything: royalty, Renaissance England, murder, sex scandals. Young readers will be completely engrossed by the fact that Jane is only a few years older than them.


The Diary of Anne Frank

Though not a novel, this is a must-read for anyone young person, even if they're not interested in history. It is an incredibly powerful book and will give any young person a real glimpse into the horrors of WWII (I doubt I'm spoiling anything when I say that everyone except her father dies in concentration camps). Anne is a great narrator, however, sharing every personal detail of her life hiding from the Nazis - how she hates her parents, when she got her period, even how she has a crush on the boy they live with. Incredibly poignant, and a great introduction for kids interested in learning about WWII.


Ruth Park, Playing Beatie Bow

I read this book in school, and good thing I did. It really is one of my favourite children's books of all time. I was slightly obsessed with time travel books, and this book is a great example of the genre done well. Unhappy Abigail is intrigued by a game played by some kids in the park called Beatie Bow, and her search (as well as a piece of Victorian lace she has just bought) leads her to travel back to 19th century Sydney. I loved time travel books because it let the reader see very clearly the differences in past and modern life, and the modern narrator's comments were always the same as my own. It let you imagine what you, the reader, would do in the same situation. Abigail discovers new friends, a new life, grows up a bit and learns to appreciate what she has. Sounds simple, but it works.


Kit Pearson, The Daring Game

Okay, so this one isn't too historical, though it is set in the 1960s. I just had to put a Kit Pearson book on this list because she's such a great children's writer, and I loved all her books. This is her first one, and it's a great story about a girl who moves to a boarding school, and gets into some fun/trouble with a game played by her roommates. Pearson also wrote a fabulous time travel book called A Handful of Time, where an unhappy girl accidentally goes back in time to when her mother was young while she's at a family cottage. She's well-known for her Guests of War trilogy about English children who come to Canada to escape the war.

History will always be in the popular imagination, and as long as authors and directors find new ways of bringing it to life, kids will gain an interest in history that might even translate to a life-long hobby or even further study. I find it hard to believe that kids can't get excited about history when it is so prevalent in novels, movies, even video games. It's true that history classes in school can be dry and unimpressive, but hopefully kids can discover the wealth of popular history that is out there, like I, and most likely many of my history grad colleagues, did.

In which I consider the musee imaginaire

I was listening to one of my favourite podcasts, from the National Gallery (UK), when an interesting concept was discussed, that of Andre Malraux's musee imaginaire.

Sophie Howeth, director of the English School of Life, describes the idea as a "museum without walls". Malraux's original idea had to do with the ever increasing number of art reproductions available in the 20th (and now 21st) centuries, and art's subsequent ability to reach out beyond hallowed halls to influence everyone and everyday life. The National Gallery used this idea to answer the age-old question: how is culture (Shakespeare, Caravaggio, Stravinsky) revelant to us now? Or, as asked by high school students everywhere: What's the point?

Sophie Howeth's answer, luckily for us public historians, is a resounding affirmation of the importance of culture, even in our daily lives. She explains that while visiting a gallery, for instance, we aren't blank slates. Our families, our jobs, whatever happened in our day - we are still carrying these things around with us. When we leave the gallery, we want to take a piece of it, a part of that sanctuary, back with us.

We all have a musee imaginaire in our heads, or we bring it to life with scrapbooks, or postcards on the fridge, or even blogs. It is our way of collecting those pieces of art, or music, or writing, that really inspire us, mean something to us, and speak to us on a different level. Whether we realize it or not, we all have this going on in our heads - we've all got our own museum without walls.

So how do we engage with this personal cultural collection? In the same way we usually feel a personal connection with a piece of art - when it is working on answering the same questions we are asking. Howeth explains how we turn to art when we feel the need to know someone else is battling with the same important, enduring questions we are - art can help solve the universal feeling of not being alone. Artists put into words, music, paint strokes, whatever, the different emotions we feel.

I felt this podcast was quite timely, as one of the big museum news stories in the past few weeks was the closing of the Rose Art Gallery at Brandeis University in Massachusetts. The university trustees' decision to sell the collection to pay for school administrative costs had art museum directors raising their voices in anger. Art collections shouldn't be seen as expendable income, they should be held in the public trust for educative purposes, not sold in our failing economy to pay for the university's deficit. Not to mention that selling collections goes against the code of ethics of most museum organizations unless the proper deaccessioning rules are followed and the money is put back into the collection.

So this question, of the relevance and societal importance of culture, is increasingly being asked and pondered over, especially in our current economic climate. I have a feeling that Brandeis university is not the only institution battling financial problems, and starting to see their art or artifact collections as assets, instead of a rich cultural collection with the ability to teach and inspire. Unfortunately culture, heritage and the arts is often forgotten in budgets, or the first to be cut out of them.

Maybe we should all sit back and think about our own musee imaginaires, stroll through an art gallery, pick up that classic book we've always meant to read, or go walk through a new museum, and remember the role culture can play in our personal lives.