ID: "Faded Laurels" by Edmund Leighton, 1889. An elderly harpist wearing ragged clothes and a decaying laurel on his head sits in the lower center of the painting on some stone steps, alone and forlorn. Up the steps in a grassy courtyard, a royal crowd is gathered, enraptured by a younger harpist with a fresh laurel crown. In the background, a dark, hooded figure watches the scene, likely symbolizing death, which comes for us all.
A huge disclaimer is required for this post, as undoubtedly some will mention the true and terrible things perpetuated by past cultures. Please do not hear what I'm not saying. This is not a lament for "the good ole days," because there were no "good ole days." Every era, including ours, has its false understandings of the world, its morally problematic practices, and just plain strange trends. As such, I do not aim to promote an "equally common cynicism about our present era" in the process (Salloum). One need not reject the present to have compassion for the past, and vice versa.
That being said, I will be focusing on dissecting our present understanding of the past, not justifying the past or present itself.
First off, what is chronological snobbery?
The term was coined by none other than CS Lewis, who briefly wrote about it in his spiritual autobiography Surprised by Joy. In it, he recounts how his colleague Owen Barfield tried convincing Lewis on the relevance of anthroposophy, the belief in an objective, accessible spiritual world. Still an atheist at the time, Lewis rejected the belief, but became aware of a different belief that was holding him back from criticizing it properly: chronological snobbery.
As he defines it, it is "the uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate common to our own age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that account discredited." In other words, it is each generation's tendency to look back on previous generations as stupid, primitive, and backward. Lewis quickly realized that this chronological snobbery was clouding his critical thinking when it came to asking deeper questions about supposedly antiquated belief systems. Instead of asking "why did this go out of date" or "why did people believe this in the first place," he dismissed the people of the past on the basis that they were from the past.
Chronological snobbery has been around for as long as there has been a past. Entire art movements can be characterized by a rejection of the old. Restoration Era England, for example, boasted lewd and frivolous literature as a response to the legalistic and stifling Puritan era that preceded it. And yet, these days, we lump both eras together and reject them wholly on the assumption that England's history has always been stifling. Chronological snobbery prevents us from investigating and getting a fuller picture of the past.
IDs: On the left, a 16th century illustration of a Puritan family in England. A father sits on the left, addressing his wife and children on the right. Their house is bare and manner serious. On the right, the painting Queen Elizabeth, Viewing the Performance of 'The Merry Wives of Windsor' at the Globe Theatre by David Scott, 1840. A massively crowded and colorful theater watches the performance out of frame. Some watch attentively and others whisper and fall over each other.
Chronological Snobbery in Fiction
We see chronological snobbery in the fiction we write, not only when we neglect to do the research a culture deserved, but when we infuse modern ideas in ways that cast that culture in a spiteful light.
For the sake of conciseness, I will limit my examples to perhaps the most popular one in fiction currently: the ancient feminist, a woman or girl who, somehow despite her surrounding culture, possesses distinctly 21st century concepts of gender equality. She does not attempt to achieve her goals in tandem with the culture or -- Heaven forbid -- accept her culture. She seeks modern solutions to her contemporary problems, tackling the obstacles of patriarchy straightforwardly, as a modern woman would be inclined to do. Writers ignore how women in the past lived happy and fulfilled lives within their available means, tripping over how dissatisfying it sounds to them personally.
IDs: Posters for four movies, from top-bottom, left-right. Birdy from "Catherine Called Birdy" (2022) played by Bella Ramsey. "Cinderella" (2021) played by Camila Cabello. Merida from "Brave" (2012) played by Kelly Macdonald. Carina Smyth from "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales" (2017) played by Kaya Scodelario.
The Harm of Chronological Snobbery
Unfortunately, and all too often, writers seem to approach historical fiction from the standpoint of "If I travelled back in time to this setting, what things about the culture would bother me?" From this annoyed standpoint, they create characters who behave "ahead of their time" and possess "radical ideas." The writer may say it is so that a modern audience can relate, but truly, it comes across more like self-insert fiction instead of a tale about humans who walked the same dirt as us. Granted, "as human beings trying to communicate with other human beings, we desire to relate to our contemporaries in a manner that is intelligible to them. However, we do not need to take our bearings from their modern or postmodern views. We need the perspective of the past on our present" (Lindsley). The writing is so caught up in its own righteousness that the audience is cheated out of an immersive, educational experience of transtemporal connection. These types of stories are self-congratulating and unrealistic, which makes them hard to believe in, and stories that are hard to believe have a hard time mattering to people.
When we look back on our ancestors' flaws, we do so with an air of superiority. It is easy to judge the decisions of the past beacause we have the benefit of hindsight (Żebrowska). Surely, we don't struggle with those things nowadays, right? Bigotry, misogyny, and inequality are concerns best left behind, right?
Not in the slightest.
Let's refer back to the ancient feminist. We cheer for these characters because they do what we in the 21st Century consider to be the right thing to do by fearlessly rebelling against unjust systems of oppression. However, there are still millions of women around the world this very minute suffering from domestic violence, financial abuse, and policies working against them in courts. Are they morally weak or medieval for not girlbossing their way to freedom? No. They are women, humans who can only do what they can do with what they have. "This whole narrative ... makes it easier for us to turn a blind eye to the problems that are actually still unsolved" (Żebrowska). By dismissing the women of the past as fools for living under misogyny, we fail to pay appropriate attention to how it persists today or pay appropriate respect to their humanity.
The same applies to any and all topics we dismiss on account of being old. If the people of today deserve justice and representation, so must our ancestors. We have certainly "improved a little and dropped some bigotry and unhealthy thinking along the way, but we are nowhere near finished and can actually get worse in a minute" (Żebrowska). By burying problems that are still alive, we risk resurrecting them. The sayings remain true: nothing ever really goes away, it just changes shape, and if we forget the past, we are doomed to repeat it.
Akemi : A Case in Chronological Respect
So, how is it possible to write historical-based fiction that balances cultural accuracy with appeal to modern audiences? To properly answer, let's conclude the ancient feminist example with a case study: Princess Akemi from Blue Eye Samurai (2023).
If you have not seen the show and don't want spoilers, here's your warning and suggestion to skim only the highlighted quotes and bullet points.
IDs: Left: Akemi in a carriage, holding a fan. Akemi is a young Japanese woman with pale makeup, a sharp expression, red robes, and black hair pinned in an elaborate style with gold pins. Right: Akemi pleading with her father, tugging on his sleeve. They stand on an outdoor walkway as it snows.
Princess Akemi is the daughter of a wealthy lord in early 1600s Japan, trained in the ways of high society ladyship for the day she is married off to the Shogun's second son, a man with a brutal reputation. She convinces her father to consider her lover Taigen, a young samurai of peasant background, as a promising suitor. However, when Taigen's honor is wounded in a duel with titular protagonist Mizu, Akemi's father breaks off their courtship and proceeds with the arranged marriage to the Shogun's son. Determined to live her own life, Akemi runs away to find Taigen, who had gone off to track down Mizu for a rematch. Despite a series of unfortunate events -- losing her retinue, money, and winding up at a brothel -- Akemi uses her sharp wit and rehearsed charm to make her way without having to sell herself. She makes friends with the prostitutes and shows how well she is able to switch between a sugary-sweet child and demanding lady depending on the man she seeks to control.
At the start of her story, Akemi appears like a familiar character we might see in a Disney movie, defying her father to live happily ever after with her true love. But the similarities stop here.
What pops the bubble of the fantasy is that Akemi fails. Her goal to run away with Taigen comes to a cruel end when she is found and carried back home, bound hand and foot, to be wed to the Shogun's son. But her story is far from over. She learns that her new husband is actually timid and easily influenced. Taking the lessons she learned from the prostitutes, Akemi redirects to a new goal, using her wealth and influence in the shogunate to craft a potentially better life. She buys out the prostitutes' contracts and hires them as her new ladies in waiting; allies within the palace. By doing so, she learns of the plot to assassinate the Shogun's family. With the help of the other characters, Akemi and the royal family survive the attempt to overthrow the shogunate. In the final episode, she is presented with the perfect opportunity to fake her death and run away with Taigen as she originally desired. But she refuses, choosing instead to remain and rebuild the shogunate in her image.
While she could not make her life her own by brute force, Akemi found other ways by working behind the scenes, using her available resources, and undermining men's ignorance.
IDs: Left: Akemi in imperial red clothes and golden headdress. She addresses five prostitutes, who sit at her feet and listen. Right: Akemi standing with the palace burning behind her, her face sooty but resolute.
Akemi's story marries modern sensibilities with contemporary methods, exemplifying how historical women were, and can still be, interesting, multifaceted, and relatable. Here are some key points writers can take away:
1. Actually do your research
I don't just mean costumes, names, and geography. I mean the details that make a person onscreen a person, not a caricature. Research may be dedicated to official state beliefs and practices yet fail to include what the layman actually believes and practices. "I want to see authors and showrunners deciding what a world's farmers, merchants, and street vendors actually do" on a day-to-day basis "that might make the elites roll their eyes, but that everybody does anyway" (Henry). There are many instances in the show where people mess up, do things for the fun of it, or do things simply for the sake of propriety or rebellion. The variety across even just one culture's traditions, values, and infrastructure makes the setting feel alive and real.
2. Show the good AND bad
The show is a snapshot of Japanese history as it was: an imperfect place like every other imperfect place on Earth. It is not lofted as a golden age or dark age, utopia or dystopia. It is simply an age with pros and cons, highs and lows, horrors and advancements. Every period of history has "its own characteristic illusions" which "are likeliest to lurk in those widespread assumptions which are so ingrained in the age that no one dares to attack" or defend them (Lewis). Individuals and collectives alike do good, do bad, do good with bad intentions, and do bad with good intentions. Portraying a culture as more than just one note makes it feel human and familiar.
3. Antique problems require antique solutions
Blue Eye Samurai portrays the ways of the past not only as a problem, but also as the solution. In Akemi's situation, her antique problems require antique solutions, not modern ones. When she does what modern audiences would encourage her to do -- run away from her controlling family -- she fails. But when she does what many women of antiquity did -- work with what she had -- she succeeds. This keeps the stakes high and makes victories feel that much more earned.
Overall, chronological snobbery is a bias that harms the believer more than the receiver. With it, we cheat ourselves out of compelling fiction and risk continuing the issues dismissed. But, if we were to practice "chronological respect," we open our minds to tell unconventional yet universal stories that leave a stronger impact than self-congratulating agendas ever can. We in the present face the unique privilege of exploring what integrity "requires of us in this age, without puffing ourselves up by sneering at our ancestors" (Salloum). The best and first place we should start is stories.
Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life. 1955.
"Why Do We Act Like People In The Past Were Stupid? [RANT]" by Karolina Żebrowska. 2022. YouTube. https://youtu.be/rhCYhlxlp04?si=qA38gYszhXRusaKG.
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