Historical Mystery Fiction-- Accuracy and Enjoyment

Ellis Peters didn't always maintain strict historical accuracy in her Brother Cadfael series, but she kept close enough to the historical truth to satisfy a large segment of the mystery reading public.

I love historical mystery stories, from Marcus Didius Falco solving crimes in 1st century Rome to Philip Kerr's Bernie Gunther chasing down murderers in Hitler's Berlin. Historical mystery fiction is bound to contain inaccuracies and anachronisms, but too many inaccuracies spoil the fun. At least they spoil my fun.

Some historical mystery fiction authors are known for their historical accuracy. If Peter Tremayne's clerical heroine Sister Fidelma lives in a coed convent in 7th century Ireland, you can be sure this is true to the period. If Bernard Knight says that in cold weather his hero, Sir John de Wolfe (Crowner John) sometimes wore a linen coif on his head with a hat on top of it, then that's what noblemen of his position at the end of the 12th century wore. If Margaret Frazer's Dame Frevisse eats pottage because the word soup was not common usage in the 15th century, that is factual.

On the other hand, Ellis Peters did not always observe historical accuracy in her celebrated Brother Cadfael novels, which can reasonably be said to have started the boom in historical mysteries. For example, she didn't concern herself with the average lifespan of people in the 12th century when she made many of her active and vigorous characters people in their 60's and 70's, nor was life in 12th century England and Wales quite as sanitary as she made it seem. But those were choices, not ignorance. If anybody could conjure up the spirit of the early middle ages, it was Ellis Peters, and you don't have to read her novels with a dictionary at your elbow in order to know what is being discussed. If one of her characters wears a cotte or rides by an assart, the context provides the required enlightenment. So, too, Ellis Peters never felt the need to lecture her readers. If she needed to provide information about the latest events in the war between King Stephen and Empress Maud, she wove it seamlessly into her story. A courier would arrive at the Abbey and report to the abbott, or the Sheriff of Shropshire, Hugh Beringar, would have a conversation with Brother Cadfael in which he commented on the latest news of the war to reach Shrewsbury. Ellis Peters was a master storyteller who never let her research take over her narrative.

I think the real issue with historical accuracy in mystery fiction is how much is enough. The more remote the time period in which the story is set, the less you may know about what is appropriate for that time period and the more inaccuracies may slip by. On the other hand, a glaring anachronism, such as a mechanical clock in ancient Rome, sticks out like a sore thumb. However, a story set in the middle of the 19th century in England should be more accurate because the reader may be expected to know more about what did and did not exist at that time. At the moment, I am reading a novel called A Beautiful Blue Death, by Charles Finch, which is set in London in 1865. Unfortunately, the author doesn't seem to know the difference between a hansom cab and a brougham. His hero wears a dinner jacket instead of a black tail coat and white bow tie to a formal dinner and ball, and after the dinner everyone lights up cigarettes. If I can easily find out that men in the Victorian era generally smoked cigars and pipes, not cigarettes, and that upper class women didn't smoke in public at all, why doesn't the author know that? I find that sort of inaccuracy aggravating. I am not supposed to know more than the author does. If I watched the Forsyte Saga on TV (or VHS or DVD), why didn't he? In fact, I'm so annoyed that I don't even care who killed Prudence Smith, upstairs parlormaid. If the author is not willing to observe basic historical accuracy, why should I care about his story?