The year 2024 has been one in which my interests and research plans have come together – finally – and my research project is beginning to take some shape. Before I get to the point of this post, allow me to share a little bit about myself.
My PhD in in the area of philosophy, and while my research interests have changed over the years (from an uncertain PhD student, to Thomas Aquinas’ view on the relationship between faith and reason, to the nature of philosophy in the 21st century), for the past seven years I’ve found a topic that has continued to scratch the proverbial academic itch–the role of narrative as a means of coming to know.1 In short, we can come to know (gain knowledge, learn, etc.) through reading narrative.2
To some, I’m merely stating the obvious. However, there are a number of those (the general reading public and academics alike) who disagree–there is a sharp division between works of fiction and works that produce knowledge. As with all academic matters, much debate exists over the nature of narrative and whether it can produce knowledge, and it is into this arena I have entered the past several years not only out of interest, but because the reading of narrative (in its various forms) plays an important role in my spiritual life, my academic life, and my personal interests.
I have written two papers thus far on the topic of narrative and knowing: one one reading as a form of listening (published) and one on narrative as form of interpersonal knowing (unpublished, looking for a home). Lately I’ve been thinking about incorporating Roberts’ historical novels into my research as a case study of sorts – as a illustration of fiction literature from which one can come to know.
In a previous post I addressed John T. Frederick’s view that Kenneth Roberts is a historian in his own right. However, this is not what I’m after – that is, I’m not here to defend Roberts as a historian. Rather, what I hope to do (at the very least) is to demonstrate that one can come to know from reading a historical novel. I hope to illustrate this through examining Roberts’ works and non-fiction writings, as well as the works of critics of his works.
Roberts’ Motivation
One way forward – I believe – in demonstrating my somewhat unformed thesis is by examining Roberts’ motivation in writing historical novels. Roberts’ attitude toward historians – particularly those of Colonial America and early Maine – is key to this process. We can see his attitude in full view in not only his autobiography I Wanted to Write, but also in Trending Into Maine.
I’ll spare you lengthy quotes from these works, for there are many. Let it suffice to say that Roberts found many histories on early Maine and Colonial America to be “drab, dull, unconvincing, rich in omissions, and crowded with statements that couldn’t be true.”3 At the end of 1924 – when Roberts had begun his research into early Maine – he was “disgusted beyond words by the incredible dullness and scantiness of so-called histories.”4
In short, those histories that drew Roberts’ ire were those that
- took for granted important details
- accepted local traditions at face value
- failed to question widely-accepted traditions
- failed to chase down facts to their sources and what gave rise to them
Thus, when Roberts wrote his novels, he did not do so to merely entertain (granted, he did want to write history that can be enjoyed). Instead, he wrote to elucidate important events of early-Maine and American history based upon historical fact and backed by thorough research into original sources. While one can certainly enjoy Roberts’ novels as works of literature, they can also come to learn about particular events of American history.
Challenges and Questions
While I certainly believe Roberts’ novels a worth reading for their historical content, there are those who have difficulty reconciling the employment of fiction in the telling of history. “Historical fiction” is an oxymoron – the mixing of fact with fiction. One challenge, then, is to address the very genre of the historical novel (or historical fiction) – which many have done already.
Another challenge is the nature of coming to know (or learn) from literature. What of those who disagree with the author’s account of historical events? Or, what if one reads the novel for entertainment purposes only? Is learning – or knowing – a subjective matter, and if so, does this weaken the thesis that one can come to know through reading literature?
Finally, what if the author is incorrect in their depiction of historical facts? What happens if their interpretation of historical facts has been demonstrably proven false?
These questions – and many more – are ones I hope to (eventually) address.
What’s the Point?
So, what’s the point of all this? I am interested in the role that good literature (what one scholar calls literary art) can play in one’s coming to know something. I believe good literature has more value for the reader than mere entertainment. A reader can come to know something of themselves or of this world through the narrative of a work of fiction. I believe this so much that I actually teach an Intro to Philosophy class using novels instead of the traditional philosophy textbook.
What better way to illustrate this value of literature than through exploring the epistemological value of historical fiction?
- At the risk of sounding pretentious….”espitemology” is the branch of philosophy that explores the question of knowing and knowledge. So, my interest in the role of narrative in knowing falls under epistemology as it addresses what serves as reliable sources of knowledge, what counts as knowledge, etc. ↩︎
- Generally, by “narrative” I mean fiction; more specifically, I mean literary art; that is, there are works of fiction whose aim is to produce knowledge and not merely to entertain. Think War and Peace versus Fifty Shades of Gray. Roberts’ novels–at least in my opinion–fall under literary art. ↩︎
- I Wanted to Write, 167. ↩︎
- I Wanted to Write, 168. ↩︎
Kenneth L. Roberts - The Unofficial Site 