The best books that mix elements of historical fiction and fantasy

This book is the perfect place to start.

At first glance, it’s a fantasy tale following a tribe of rabbits as they flee the destruction of their old warren to seek a new kingdom.

However, as the journey unfolds, it becomes more of an epic myth like The Odyssey or The Aeneid, both stories with historical roots. Indeed, each chapter starts with an epigraph from myth or history, enhancing the gritty tone.

Beware, Beatrix Potter fans: this is not a children’s tale. There are rabbit-on-rabbit battles. Meditations on rabbit romance. Deaths of beloved characters. Tense escapes. And, in the end, explorations of the meaning of life, both rabbit and human.

Here is another masterpiece.

It purports to be historical fiction set in the Old West, following one of the last great cattle drives. Yet within a few chapters, it begins to feel like a series of episodes from Grimm’s fairy tales.

I remember at UC Irvine, where I earned my Fiction MFA, several fellow writers were reading this novel alongside me. We kept stopping each other in the hall or at cocktail parties to relive this or that chapter, struggling to understand how it could be both so entertaining and so good.

The fact that it is long—a real doorstopper of a book—adds to its “too-big-for-one-genre” feel.

I was living in Madrid, Spain, when one of my friends and fellow English-language teachers, Heather, nudged me and said, “James, you have to read this.”

I was in my “James only reads highbrow literature” era, so I told her that the cover looked too pulpy (yes, I was guilty of judging a book by its cover). Thankfully, my respect for Heather forced me to overlook my biases and give Pillars a shot. I’m so glad I did.

The prose style is simple and accessible (obeying Animal Farm author George Orwell’s advice to write prose as transparent as a “windowpane”). And that’s good, because the content draws you in completely.

A village in Medieval England decides to build a cathedral. The characters range from evil knights to noble monks to savvy businesswomen to scheming clerics. The world is rich with detail and the pages are addicting, almost turning themselves. It’s pure historical fiction, but again, some of the characters loom so large, they seem biblical.

My debut novel owes much to every title on this list, but the most to this one. Heather, wherever you are, thank you!

Brave mice defend a monastery from marauding pirate rats! An evil snake haunts the forest, eating gentle beasts!

Redwall is a medieval Viking tale populated by animals. But what animals! Speedy hares with bottomless appetites evoke British Army captains. Quarreling shrews must pass around an object to speak at the council, reminding us of The Lord of the Flies. We meet tiny sparrows who follow a Spartan warrior ethos, and Friar Tuck-like fieldmice who cook great feasts that will make you salivate.

Yes, it’s a young adult book, but it’s also one of the reasons I became a writer in the first place. Let me throw down a glove here: the vitality of Redwall’s characters equals anything found in Dickens, Dumas, or Stevenson. 

Sidenote: the first piece of fiction I produced was an imitation of this very title, fulfilling an elementary school assignment. I folded ten pages of printer paper in half, stapled them, scrawled cartoons of warrior animals inside with colored pen, pasted cutouts of printed text beneath the drawings, and there it was: a bad imitation, utter plagiarism—but a start. I was a writer.

One final note: I saw Brian Jacques read live at the University of Notre Dame one summer. He’s a hero of mine, a natural storyteller with a huge heart. There’s something pure about these tales, which makes a lot of sense when you learn he started making them up to entertain children at a school for the blind.

This one isn’t fantasy at all. In fact, it’s probably the most accurate fictional retelling of the battle of Gettysburg out there. But I love it so much I had to list it here.

Furthermore, the characters involved—such as Lee, Longstreet, and Chamberlain—are deeply spiritual men, meaning that many pages meditate on the meaning of all this blood and loss. These meditations evoke a sense fantasy often can: that the visible world contains a mystery deeper than our limited minds can grasp. 

Yet the text remains deeply human. The Civil War pits brother against brother, friend against friend. In it, there is a great speech by Col. Chamberlain addressing his men which captures a theme of the book.

“This is a different kind of army,” he says. “If you look back through history you will see men fighting for pay, for women, for some other kind of loot. They fight for land, power, because a king leads them, or just because they like killing. But we are here for something new. This has not happened much in the history of the world. We are an army out to set other men free… It’s not the land; there’s always more land. It’s the idea that we all have value - you and me.” In this way, the book stretches the boundaries of genre. It is a dive into the mythos of America.

Beyond that, I love the prose of this book. Poetic but spare. Its author, Michael Shaara, deservedly won the Pulitzer Prize for it. The battle tactics and maps are fascinating. As are the weapons, the state of medicine, and the attitudes of the time.

When I write, I refer to this book often. Conan O Brien said it is one of his favorites. It’s one of mine, too.