100 Books Like The Love-Artist

I have always loved historical fiction as a reader, but my passion to write it caught fire during the years I lived in Venice, Italy, when I discovered the curious institution of the ballot boy within the Byzantine complexities of the thousand-year Venetian Republic. Since ballot boys were randomly chosen over a period of six hundred years, choosing my particular Doge and ballot boy required a survey of the entire field before I circled in on Venice, 1368, IMHO the peak brilliance of that maritime empire. It is a peculiarity of history that the names of all 130 doges of Venice are recorded, but none of their ballot boys are mentioned. The challenge was irresistible. 

I am a writer and historian, specialising in the early-Medieval period and the fractious but fruitful encounter between the Christian and Islamic worlds. My fiction is informed by my non-fiction work: it’s a great help to have written actual histories of Northumbria in collaboration with some of the foremost archaeologists working on the period. I regard my work as the imaginative application of what we can learn through history to stories and the books I have selected all do this through the extraordinarily varied talents of their authors. I hope you will enjoy them!

I’m a medieval historian, and I’ve written academic books and articles about the history of the medieval world, but I have also written two historical novels. I became interested in history in general and the Middle Ages in particular from reading historical fiction as a child (Jean Plaidy!). The past is another country, and visiting it through fiction is an excellent way to get a feel for it, for its values, norms, and cultures, for how it is different from and similar to our own age. I’ve chosen novels that I love that do this especially well, and bring to light less well-known aspects of the Middle Ages.

Maybe it’s something about my training as a newspaper journalist, but I have a real affinity for the untold story and the wrongly accused. I wrote many stories as a cops and courts reporter, and profiled both saints and sinners. I learned that it’s easy for the outsider to be made into the villain. (Cue: “When You’re Strange” by The Doors.) I’m particularly interested in historical fiction where we can reconsider people who’ve been turned into monsters. When I learned that the Macbeth play that I loved was far from the truth, I was launched into a decades-long writing project.

I’m the author of five extremely different novels: Boy A (which was made into an award-winning film), Cham, Genus, The Tongues of Men or Angels, and Under Country. They share almost nothing in subject or setting. Ranging from first-century Judaea to a future London. From ski resort workers in France to young offender prisons in Britain. My latest work - Under Country - is about the 1984 Miners’ Strike and its still lingering scars in the North East pit villages. Yet, I suppose, if there were a unifying theme between them, it would be that each, in its own way, is influenced by and fascinated with Christianity.

I grew up without a TV (well, we had a monitor for movies), so we spent a lot of time as a family reading. And the novels that I gravitated more and more towards were ones with psychological themes. It didn’t matter if they were modern or ancient; if they got at something unexplainable (or even explainable) about the human psyche, about what motivates us to behave in the ways that we do—especially if those behaviors are self-destructive—I wanted to read them. And I still do.

Maybe it’s something about my training as a newspaper journalist, but I have a real affinity for the untold story and the wrongly accused. I wrote many stories as a cops and courts reporter, and profiled both saints and sinners. I learned that it’s easy for the outsider to be made into the villain. (Cue: “When You’re Strange” by The Doors.) I’m particularly interested in historical fiction where we can reconsider people who’ve been turned into monsters. When I learned that the Macbeth play that I loved was far from the truth, I was launched into a decades-long writing project.

Maybe it’s something about my training as a newspaper journalist, but I have a real affinity for the untold story and the wrongly accused. I wrote many stories as a cops and courts reporter, and profiled both saints and sinners. I learned that it’s easy for the outsider to be made into the villain. (Cue: “When You’re Strange” by The Doors.) I’m particularly interested in historical fiction where we can reconsider people who’ve been turned into monsters. When I learned that the Macbeth play that I loved was far from the truth, I was launched into a decades-long writing project.

My mother’s family is descended from both Afrikaner and English South Africans, and the inherent tension between those two groups has always fascinated me. From Olive Schreiner’s The Story of an African Farm to Andre Brink’s Devil’s Valley, books that examine the reclusive, defensive, and toughened attitudes of white settlers make for the kind of discomforting reading that I find immensely compelling.

I grew up in the United States, completed my undergraduate degree there, and then pursued a doctorate in Modern History at the University of Cambridge. Now, I teach European history at Oxford Brookes University and publish research on Russia and the Soviet Union. I have always been fascinated by revolutions and civil conflicts, especially how people navigate the disruption of stability and normality. How they process fragmentary information, protect themselves, and embrace new ideas to give meaning to their threatened lives is central to my work as a historian. The Russian Revolution and Civil War offer a rich tapestry for exploring these dilemmas.