100 Books Like Slavery After Rome, 500-1100

This is a work of fiction, but one so well imagined that I felt like I was actually in the medieval English countryside.

It’s the story of Will, a peasant heading to France to join the English army as an archer in the Hundred Years War during the summer of 1348, when the Black Death swept across northern Europe. Along with him travel a gentlewoman avoiding an unwelcome marriage, some soldiers harboring a sordid secret, and a cleric with troubles of his own.

Following behind is Will’s gender-fluid childhood friend and would-be lover, Hab-Madlen, who is endangered as much by people’s prejudices as by the disease stalking the population. Will they escape England and their pasts before the plague catches up with them?

I really appreciate this book because it explains how medieval people thought about the grossly unequal society they inhabited and how they tried to reconcile its obvious injustices with Christian morality.

I particularly like how it shows peasants’ criticism of the medieval idea of society as being composed of Three Orders: those who fought (the knights and nobles), those who prayed (monks and priests), and those who worked (peasants).

The Three Orders idea supposedly justified the way that nobles and clerics profited from peasant labor, but peasants sometimes threw it back at them, arguing that if the nobles were defeated in war or the Church was full of hypocrites, then the peasants really didn’t owe them anything. It’s a fair argument.

Tormented Voices often brings me close to tears. Although based on records from 800 years ago, it feels very immediate in its account of the lordly oppression that often blighted peasants’ lives.

The records detail villagers’ complaints against knights who had violently forced them to hand over grain, money, or animals. The villagers say that heads were broken, a woman’s nose cut off, houses made uninhabitable, and so on. The villagers employed scribes to write out these complaints to send to their Count-King in Barcelona, but we don’t know if he even replied, let alone if anything was ever done.

By restoring the peasants’ voices, the book does what it can to right the wrongs done to them so long ago. 

It’s a real frustration of mine that so much historical writing pays little or no attention to women, even though they made up half the population.

However ‘important’ whatever the men were doing was, they couldn’t have done it without women. There’s more written on elite medieval women—queens, noblewomen, abbesses, etc.—than there used to be, but peasant women remain mostly neglected.

I like Bennett’s book not only because she pays attention to village women but also because it doesn’t sugarcoat the story. Peasant women could do many things in medieval England, like owning property, going to court, and running businesses, but their options were sharply curtailed by male domination.

As Bennett puts it, "Insofar as these women had choices about their lives, the choices were always poor ones." 

It was the biggest mystery of Black literature—and this author figured it out. Who wrote The Bondswoman’s Tale—a recently discovered novel—the first novel written by an African American woman? But why should I care? Why not leave this mystery alone? Instead of just revealing the identity of the author, though, this stunning biography asks us about how women’s lives, particularly those of women who survived captivity, might be different. 

Hecimovich shows us, though, that this book, “Hannah Crafts” (a pen name), writes of happy reunions between a mother and daughter; she avoids depictions of sexual abuse. She draws on her own experiences of living in captivity but changes them enough to hide her identity. I didn’t expect, though, for her own real life to be filled with more drama and pain than her novel! You don’t need to read the book to understand and come to love the true… show more.

I think Scott is one of the most creative social scientists working today, and this book is probably his strongest work.

Scott flips the script and focuses attention on the strategies subordinates use to navigate and deal with the power of their social superiors. He has great faith in the abilities of ordinary people to mock and hoodwink the powerful and to create for themselves little refuges from kings, bosses, and overlords.

I go back to this book all the time because it is a treasure trove of wonderful anecdotes, too.

There was no such thing as YA when I was the right age for it. I went straight from the school stories of Enid Blyton to bonkbusters, bodice-rippers, and sweeping historical sagas the size of building bricks. The Suffolk trilogy was always my favourite of those, because its sweep was so stupendous. (Book one opens in the 1300s and Book three ends well into the twentieth century.) The Town House world is so physical, so brutal, so strange to modern eyes. The food, the clothes – my God, the plumbing! – the relentless scrabble to survive for all but the very rich, make this novel and, to some extent, its two sequels a completely immersive read. I particularly love that Lofts pays as much attention to the lowly folk who keep the place going as to the owners of the manor house. 

My second true love where speculative fiction universes are concerned is undoubtedly the Apprentice Adept series. The way it so deftly blends fantasy and science fiction, the iconic, unforgettable characters and concepts, and the, frankly, epic way the story evolves and eventually resolves absolutely blew my mind as a kid, and I’ve found revisiting it as an adult just as satisfying and enjoyable.

Mistress of Rome was the first book I ever read by Kate Quinn, but it wasn’t my last. Frankly, I fell in love with Thea, a slave in ancient Rome. Ms. Quinn never shied away from the hard stuff. The reality was Thea was a slave and, as a slave, had very limited choices in her life. Ms. Quinn crafted a novel full of rich characters who sometimes made poor choices, or had their choices made for them all the while set against the beautiful background of ancient Rome, and you’ve got yourself one hell of a novel.

My novels take place in several ancient Mediterranean lands where slavery was an accepted, unchallenged reality. It’s hard for today’s writers and readers to grasp what relationships must have been like between human chattel and their owners in a world totally devoid of modern mores. Some authors who write about that time period choose to ignore the slaves and focus on the masters, but I was determined to get into the minds of both groups and explore their lives equally. Bradley’s subtitle, “A Study in Social Control,” held the key for me. His book revealed the “carrots and sticks” at work in such societies and helped me bring them to life in my fiction.