I spent the weekend reading a novel (no, not the one above, which I’ll mention later) that described a series of events with which I am personally familiar, although they happened more than ten years ago and my role at the time was very much that of bystander – I didn’t know most of the facts until some years later. I emphasise the word ‘facts’ – I’m not talking about a lookalike situation here. I didn’t know there would be any kind of personal connection when I bought the book. It is by an author whose work I have read before – mainly in the form of journalism – and I was curious to know how she had shaped up as a novelist.
As I embarked on the novel and the narrative unfolded, I was stunned to realise that this was an undisguised account of those very events. The only subterfuge the author had used was to give the main characters different names – though names very much in keeping with the originals. She didn’t, for example, rename a Charles ‘Sidney’ or a Joanna ‘Edith’.
The novel tells the story of a love triangle. The three protagonists are a married couple and the man’s colleague, with whom he embarks upon an affair. Nothing special about that – it’s one of the oldest plots in the world. Think Jacob, Leah and Rachel or Guinevere, Arthur and Lancelot. Think The English Patient. This novel’s uniqueness lies in the detail: the venue and circumstances of the lovers’ first tryst, the man’s family situation, the place to which he takes his by-now mistress for a holiday, his death by suicide. Yes, indeed – the man commits suicide, unable to extricate himself from the mess which he has made of his life. And my point is: none of this is fiction.
Let me wind back to my own very tangential participation in this tale. I have never met the author, who is the mistress in the triangle. I have also never met the wife. As far as I know, neither is aware of my existence. I knew the husband as a professional acquaintance during the last months of his life – although of course neither he nor I knew that they were. I had just set up a new freelance business and I was working on a project with him. Out of the blue, his PA called me and told me he had “died suddenly”. I didn’t know it was suicide until some years later, when I worked on another project with another of his former colleagues, who had by now moved to a different company. We talked about his death and she described to me more of the details that led up to it.
As a result, and belatedly, I am much more clued up now about the course of events than I was immediately after they took place; and what strikes me very forcefully is that most of what I have just read in this ‘novel’ is not fiction at all. Except for the passages that conjecture what the main actors were feeling (including the wife, who, unsurprisingly, is not portrayed with much sympathy until the end), it is a blow-by-blow, more or less verbatim account of what actually happened. It may very well have been cathartic – and even lucrative – for the author, but what about the emotions it will have triggered in the other players in the story, particularly the wife? How could she have felt when she realised the hugely distressing events that had changed her life forever had been dragged into service as ‘fiction’? What about the two sons, now young men, who were teenagers at the time?
I have asked these questions rhetorically, but I am genuinely interested to know what others think. I am aware that authors have sometimes been taken to court for writing about characters who bear too close a resemblance – or even the same name – as someone who exists. For example, the first printing of Richard Adams’ The Girl in a Swing (great novel if you don’t know it) was recalled after an acquaintance of his objected to his use of her name and he had to change the name. Conversely, I know some authors make fictional use of their own experiences but relate them to characters who are quite different from the originals. None of my own characters is recognisable as an individual who truly exists, though I have observed and written about unusual characteristics in people I know to make my characters more interesting.
When does something billed as fiction actually become ‘faction’ – and how much should an author be allowed to get away with, not just legally, but also morally speaking?
I have chosen not to name the title of the novel I’ve been discussing here or identify its author. I do not want to add more oxygen to the publicity it has already received. I don’t wish to sound sanctimonious, but reading this book has made me feel very uncomfortable indeed.
3 thoughts on “Fact and fiction; fiction and fact – and ‘faction’ and ethics!”
Firstly, Christina, it’s lovely to see a blog post from you. However, I sense and share your concern about this novel that is not really a novel at all. That said, I have also written a novel that is heavily rooted in fact although not as directly as the one you are quoting. However, I was very careful to avoid anything that could cause distress to and my storyline is complete fiction even though some of my characters are recognisable to those who were related the people involved even though the real models for these particular characters are no longer alive. As a memoir writer, I am also aware of how careful one has to be to seek permission from people we write about, but of course if the names are changed, I believe there is no legal basis on which to object. As you said, it’s not an uncommon story. You happen to know the details, but very few others will. However, it seems at best, in appallingly bad taste to exploit their story in this way, and at worst, it is morally indefensible. Unfortunately, the author is one of the protagonists, so it is effectively a memoir, but I hope to goodness the widow and sons of the husband are not aware of it. If they are, there’s little they can do without bringing attention to the whole tragic story. Horrible!
Hello, again, Valerie.
Thank you for this. I really will try to write more posts this year! I had rather a roller-coaster year last year and the writing – all kinds – suffered as a result. This year promises to be much better.
I am fascinated to hear of your own experiences in this area – thank you for sharing them with me in this thoughtful reply. You are right: this book is really a memoir, written some considerable time after the event. As I said, it may have brought catharsis to the author but it is insensitive at best, perhaps more calculating than that. And as you also say, in very poor taste.
The names are fictional – the publisher will surely have checked this – though in some instances close to the originals. As you will certainly be aware, it would be the publisher who would be sued for libel, not the author, if this were a possibility.
I hope all is well with you and Koos and that your writing and teaching are flourishing, despite all the setbacks of the past two years. I really hope 2022 will be an improvement for everyone.
Very best wishes, and thank you again,
As the saying goes, ‘the truth is stranger than fiction’, and that you know the person does make it more poignant. I have no clue as to the book you are referring to, and while I enjoy biographies and autobiographies, I haven’t really gotten into memoirs.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Christina x