Blogger: Janet Kobobel Grant
On today, Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday, I want to invite you to consider with me a sort of heady question: How much should an author (of either fiction or nonfiction) bend true events for the sake of art? (And, yes, that boundary is probably in different places for novelists and nonfiction writers.)
The film “Selma,” which is the first film to ever center on King’s life, 
raised the issue of art vs. accuracy for me. While the film has won several awards already, historians have decried it because, they point out, the relationship between Martin Luther King, Jr. and Lyndon Baines Johnson was egregiously inaccurate in how it was portrayed. Apparently LBJ was actively supportive of King’s civil rights efforts, but the film depicts Johnson as saying he understands the need but doesn’t believe the timing is right to press the issue. As a matter of fact, some historians are so outraged at this depiction they are saying people shouldn’t view the film.
I watched an interview on The PBS Newshour with Ava DuVernay, the film’s director and executive producer. When asked about the outcry from historians, she replied that the film was art and was not an attempt to be a documentary.
As creators of art, you all know that an enormous number of factors go into each decision you make. Film, like any art form, has many inherent restrictions–the number of scenes, cost of filming, actors’ limitations, movie’s length, screenwriter’s choices, director’s vision for the piece, etc.
And yet, I asked myself, what purpose did changing a well-documented fact serve?
First, it would heighten the drama. Another boundary for King to overcome, increasing his heroic stature.
Second, it would create another conflict in the film. Conflict helps to engage viewers and to move the story along.
Undoubtedly there are other factors, but those two seem obvious.
But was the departure from facts necessary? So necessary that accuracy was sacrificed? This film was created to raise awareness of why Selma was important, who Martin Luther King, Jr. was, and why civil rights was even an issue. It was attempting to depict a crucial moment in our country’s history.
It’s not like the LBJ-King relationship was a side-note; Johnson’s support was crucial. Nor was this a story invented in a screenwriter’s mind. It seems drama could have built up around how Johnson would respond to the civil rights cause and the ways King chose to address the problem. I’m sure that was a significant issue for the civil rights movement.
From what I’ve read, the two men had a bit of a prickly relationship; so it’s not like they blended together like cream and sugar. But showing that would have required greater nuance, more screen time, and wouldn’t have been as big of a moment in the film.
I’m not arguing that Duvernay made the wrong choice; I just want to understand why she made it.
I found her response to the question weak, when put to her in the interview. She repeated a couple of times that people should view the film to decide for themselves. Okay, I understand she granted the interview to publicize the film, but her decision not to try to explain why that choice was made caused me to wonder if she had given it much thought. Perhaps I’m naive or idealistic or both, but I wanted her to engage the art vs. accuracy question because it’s one every creator of art should struggle with.
In what ways have you struggled with the art vs. accuracy question? What parameters caused you to go one way or the other? What other films or books can you recall that danced around the question? Did the director or writer answer it in a way that you agreed with?
TWEETABLES
Which is more important in writing: art or accuracy? Click to tweet.
Join the conversation about choosing between art and accuracy in writing. Click to tweet.
Photo credit: Danilo Rizzulti, FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Art vs. accuracy is a tough one because the creator is trying to portray a message the way he/she feels makes the greatest impact. Many many books made into movies, for instance, and not accurately depicted the way the stories were written. But, oftentimes what we see on film works better than on paper depending on the screenplay, actors, directors, etc.
I’ve just finished a novel that takes place in a small Texas town. I kept the name the same but everything else is different. Probably a small detail to most but one I often thought of changing.
There were other details in my book that made my editor question their validity. For me though, it’s all about making a great story and twisting things around keeping the readers interest.
I enjoyed the article!
Thanks, Randy. You made an interesting choice to use the name of a real Texas town but changed everything else. I’d like to hear your reasoning in making that choice just because I’m curious.
Hello, and thank you for your feedback and question!
The biggest reason for using the town, and its name, was because of my familiarity with it and the surrounding areas. My family has a long history there and I’ve spent time among the places, fields, and population from an early age through adulthood. Though the events and characters in my novel are completely fictional, the emotional connection I felt with the town greatly helped while developing the story. I always feel that writing about places you know helps envision the stories you’re trying to create.
Thanks again for your response,
Randy Mitchell
I’ve not yet seen Selma, but I am a church historian and from time to time I teach a seminary course on “Church History in Film.” This kind of issue comes up often.
The difference between a feature film and a documentary is essential. Feature films mist be driven by conventions of a narrative genre, telling a gripping story in a two hour frame. To move people to buy tickets, pay babysitters, and more importantly tell friends they HAVE to see it, the film must have everything fiction has: characters, conflicts, crises, and a convincing narrative arc. Some facts are gonna give.
On the other hand, a documentary about history can focus on facts to a greater degree, often stretching over numerous episodes to focus on separate issues, and rarely charging viewers ten bucks per ticket.
There is a parallel to painting of some kinds more common a couple centuries ago, or the Icons of Eastern Orthodoxy, in which one frame contains a whole story, selecting details to convey in foreground, background, and symbol. Of course Martin Luther was not at Christ’s crucifixion, but the artist told a true story by portraying him there.
It can be necessary, as in Elizabeth, where a reign of decades is told in one film, to act as if events long separated in time appear to take place in the same year. Or sometimes positions actually lived out by one historical figure must be included in the narrative, but the figure himself must be left out so the viewer can keep track of fewer than a hundred characters. Easy peasy: meld several people into one.
The artist aims to tell a particular true thing. All the true things cannot be told in one film. Each historical character could be the subject of a separate volume of biography–or in LBJ’s case, multi-volume works!
To my mind the question is not whether a particular historical fact is true or false. Better to ask the purpose of the choice in telling the true thing the film aims for. Is it a film that is about LBJ? No, but he must be there. What narrative function does it serve to put views that others did have into the mouth of a critically important character who didn’t have those views? Sometimes it makes the difference between a film worth watching, and plodding boredom.
And good, too, to ask whether the thing the film aims to tell is arguably true, or really not. There are films about St Francis of Assisi and about St Joan of Arc that portray the main character as being driven by mental illness. Those filmmakers’ choices are not supportable from the perspective of the available sources, so the movies ended up telling falsehood rather than truth. The real historical figures were far more interesting, but it is hard for the film industry to deal with something so countercultural as God at work in individual lives in world-changing ways.
Wow, Gary! Insightful comment!
Your last sentence nails it.
Thanks, Gary, for bringing up the issue of what is true. For the sake of art, film-makers give us composite characters and shrunken time-frames. For the sake of the story, a character can be the mouthpiece of a perspective the real person didn’t hold to. All of those are valid reasons for seeking to be true to the essence of events without necessarily being true to every detail. But sometimes artists change a detail because that’s the easier choice, but not necessarily the best choice.
Interesting discussion and pertinent to my writing.
I think an artist needs to be careful not to mislead the reader and/or present falsehood about the historical character. I’ve bent over backwards to be truthful about my character–perhaps to an extreme about a person who died 98 years ago.
In The Aviator’s Wife, Melanie Benjamin told Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s story through her POV in a novel. As a reader of her biography and long time fan, I knew the facts. Benjamin may have embroidered the story, but told within the known facts. I could accept the flaws.
In another novel, Pioneer Girl by Bich Minh Nguyen, Rose Wilder Lane is the historical character. This tale, however, implies she had an illegitimate child.
That surprised me and confused me–particularly when the grandchild of that alleged illegimate child appeared in the story. I had to make sure this was a novel, because it felt like history.
As best I can tell Lane did not have an illegitimate child–so writing a novel implying she did, to me, is wrong. 🙁
Michelle, I read the Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb by Melanie Benjamin. She did an admirable job of injecting her fiction with fact. My interest was piqued enough to do more research on Mercy Lavinia Warren Bump.
Those are good examples of what to do/what not to do, Michelle. Thanks for those. And they reminded me of March by Geraldine Brooks, which portrays the father who is so absent from Little Women. Because the reader actually knows little about him, Brooks had plenty of room to use her imagination to fill in lots of blanks. And, of course, the characters of Little Women aren’t real people. But still, fans of Little Women expect Brooks to remain true to what we know of Mr. March.
Michelle, just when I thought I had my comments set in my head, you pulled me up short. In books, even fiction, I expect historical facts to be factual, accurate, truthful. I’m very disappointed when I learn that they are not. However….
In the Little House series on TV, Mary gets married and has a child that dies in a house fire. Unless I’m mistaken, the real Mary never got married and never had a child. I knew this but accepted the TV story as something they had to do to keep Mary’s character interesting and involved season after season.
Now I’m second-guessing that. Maybe her real life experiences could have been made to be just as dramatic without destroying the actual thread of her life.
Personally, if I include historical “facts,” I try to get them right. Just like I try to get other facts right (like names & descriptions of handguns, architecture, clothing, flowers, etc., unless my character creates a new rose).
I would think there was enough drama surrounding King and in his own life without anyone having to create a false scenario with an actual person. People who don’t know the truth and who see the film will believe it–the white president against the black rights activist. People who know the truth and see it may doubt the accuracy of other parts of the film. I know I would. That’s why I’ve decided not to see it. King can stand by the truths in his life. He doesn’t need inaccuracies clouding the truth.
Whew! I didn’t expect all that! Summary: I like historical “facts” to be accurate even in fiction.
Sylvia, in my Zumba class this morning, our instructor wished us a Happy Martin Luther King Jr day and urged us all to see Selma. I wanted to shout out, “But just realize, it has important historical inaccuracies.” I resisted.
Janet, I didn’t see a reply button to your reply, so I’m trying this. I admire your self-control!
I understand that it is a movie based on true story, not a documentary, and that the actual events must be tweaked for the sake of the art form. A lot of relevant information will be left out. But I bristle when known facts are changed because it makes for a better story. At the very least, it calls for a disclaimer by the creator–in a book, a footnote explaining the truth; for a movie, perhaps pre-release statements by the director. If there is good reason to stray from the truth, there should be no shame in its public proclamation.
You call for deep thinking so early on a Monday morning, Janet. It will be an interesting discussion.
Shirlee, it bothered me that the director didn’t discuss why she made the choices she did. (I used only one example, but historians had other concerns as well.) Personally, I think it would have led to an interesting discussion that could have brought positive media attention rather than negative.
I heard speculation that one possible reason Selma didn’t receive more Oscar nominations was because of the negative fuss about the facts as the film depicted them. Apparently those who nominate finalists do not like drawing attention to films with negative publicity.
Sorry, I hit the post comment button too quickly.
I think that if you present a film such as this on a historic person such as MLK it needs to be accurate. From what I understand, school children, are being encouraged to see this film. I’m afraid that they will get a slanted view of history and, of course, an inaccurate one.
Karin, I agree that unfortunately the film’s inaccuracies will be perpetuated by having schoolchildren view it. Right now, for those who are paying attention, the fuss over artistic choices is pretty visible. But a few years from now, who will remember that questions were raised about the depiction of the actual events and people?
I agree. A disclaimer, especially at the beginning of the film, letting people know it was a “slightly fictionalized” version of the true story would make a big difference. When people expect non-fiction but get fiction they’re being cheated.
A few months back at a writer’s conference dinner I had the thrill of being seated by the brilliant Candace Fleming, author of the meticulously researched “The Family Romanov.” She inquired about my work and I gushed that my novel included flash backs to Rasputin and the Romanov family, but that I changed a date and added scenes. The LOOK on her face! I quickly added that my genre was speculative fiction, and that seemed to help. She graciously encouraged me, and later spoke of the use of author’s notes to clarify areas of historical inaccuracies and add disclaimers.
I took her advice and in my author’s notes, I suggest that readers go to “The Family Romanov” for an in-depth and authoritative accounting of the fascinating world of Tsarist Russia.
The problem with powerful films that change historical facts without disclaimers, is that our society has traded “truth” for “story.” We “remember facts” from facebook posts, movies we half-watched, or worse yet – parody from The Onion. The story becomes a comfortable truth. If the truth sets us free, then I fear the consequences of our complacency.
Shelia, what a great story about your conversation with Candace Fleming. Her response was gracious but helpful in pointing the way for you to play with historical facts yet not forsake the truth.
Ohhh, this is a HOT button topic for me.
When history is discussed on the world stage, Canadians occasionally have to stand up and yell out “We were there too!”
From D-Day to The Iran Hostage Crisis, we’ve waited until the dust settled, stepped up to the microphone and blown on it, then asked “Is this thing on? Is it? Okay…you’re all welcome.”
In Ben Affleck’s truly riveting film, “Argo”, my country got kicked to the curb in a BIG way.
Affleck got so many facts wrong, I sat through that movie yelling “Oh really???”
Netflix=yelling all you want.
Read http://www.ctvnews.ca/w5/argo-iran-hostage-crisis-film-fiddles-with-the-facts-1.1167994
In the ridiculous 1984 film, Red Dawn, the Soviets invade the US. Umm, heyyyy, what’s exactly in between the North Pole and Colorado? And the invaders are Soviets, and Cubans and Nicaraguans.
Soviets can take a Colorado winter. But, come ON!!! Cubans and Nicaraguans? I knew a soldier from Managua, and umm, no. Nooooo. The poor guy could barely handle Vancouver. Besides, the Soviets planes would have run out of fuel somewhere over Manitoba.
Soviet invasion through Canada?
No.
Nope.
Noooo.
So much no.
Don’t get me started on WW2 films. Oh. My. Word.
If a writer is going to insert fictitious events and attribute those to a real person, it must be made known what is real and what isn’t. It’s not hard, but it sure does save time in apologies and retractions.
Jennifer, feel better now? 🙂
Speaking of Argo, Ben Affleck played the part of real-person Tony Mendez. Um, really?
Hollywood is hilarious when it comes to picking actors of various nationalities to play individuals of very different nationalities.
By the way, I really liked Argo. I thought it was a great (okay inaccurate in many ways) film.
The point that some events have to be fictionalized for ‘packaging’ or to control the number of characters is well-taken.
There is a line, though, when it comes to altering the record when it comes to a person’s beliefs, and that line is crossed in “Selma”. I’m no fan of LBJ, but turning him from a supported of civil rights to something of an opponent “at the present time” is wrong.
To use something of an extreme example, did those of you who remember “The Last Temptation of Christ” think that the liberties taken with Jesus’ character and behaviour were appropriate, even to enhance dramatic effect?
Maybe the example is not too extreme, at that, because we are supposed to model Christ.
And bearing false witness, as was done to LBJ in “Selma”, isn’t allowed.
Even unto a dead man. And maybe ESPECIALLY unto a dead man.
And, perhaps, when a person, living or dead, is portrayed as worse than he or she was (under the preponderance of evidence), we shouldn’t call it artistic license, or dramatic liberty.
Call it what it is – a lie.
Yes!
Andrew, that’s what bothered the historians. I think they understand about artistic license, but to portray the President as taking a position, when in reality he took the opposite position at great political risk, makes the “adjustment” a far cry from the truth.
Oh, Janet! What a timely conversation-starter today!
I don’t write historical fiction, but like some of the others here, it makes me cringe when I read something I know is historically inaccurate, or as Andrew said, “a lie.”
If dramatic liberties are taken, it seems there should be a disclaimer even for the sake of “art.” I think it detracts from a film when known facts are misrepresented or tweaked.
A few years ago I saw “The Help.” Since my daddy’s from the South, I knew the mindset portrayed did indeed exist. I’ve not yet read the book, but I’d be curious about others’ reactions. I understand there was some controversy based on a few of Kathryn Stockett’s “fictional” characters.
Way to make us think, Janet!
I loved both the film and the book versions of The Help. But the pie eating that was a linchpin event in both stretches credibility to the breaking point. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about the story; so others of you might recall further details that didn’t square with reality.
My overall recollection is that The Help did a good job of portraying an era.
I love your post and how you make us think about this issue of truth within fiction, Janet. You are so wise.
I’m not trying to be controversial, but I speak from personal experience. My father’s Arkansas family was split, one side southern Republicans and one side southern Democrats. The antebellum side was Democrat and very anti-black. The Republican side was very pro-black, to the point that my grandmother took in orphaned black babies until homes could be found for them. We could not have reunions that included both sides of the family because of the anger and the hatred.
I knew a man who worked for President Johnson. Not all that you are reading about LBJ on the Internet is the whole truth. Traditions die hard and heritage is difficult to overcome. By the mid-1960s many good people came to change their opinions about race and freedom, as did our political parties, but that change came gradually.
I am of mixed heritage racially but raised “white” and look very white, although my mother would likely be classified as a “woman of color.” I am just now beginning to understand what my family endured through the generations, what they hid from others, what it cost them to gain the opportunities they wanted for their children.
Of course, what we consider racist now was not considered racist in the first half of the 20th Century; however, it is so tempting to give our heroes from the past(and our political parties) today’s values when that is seldom the whole truth.
Sue, thank you for telling us about your family’s own challenges with the racial issue. Talk about complex–and heartbreaking!
I just have to mention a very popular television production that drives me crazy with the way it has characters in the early 20th-century serve as mouthpieces for very 21st-century values. That would be Downton Abbey. Lady Mary’s week-long escapade and her rationale for it would be one example among many. I won’t say more since I don’t want to have to issue a spoiler alert.
Definitely, Janet! Today, writers have more access to information than ever before, and thus, honesty in artistic expression takes on much deeper moral complexities. Alas, we are creatures of our own cultures, often burdened with prejudices we are not even aware we carry. From the first word we type on the page or screen, the soapbox beckons!
I think writers incorporating historical characters into their novels would do well to take a look at Ann Rinaldi’s YA historicals.
Her tales are well told, often examining obscure parts of history but at the end, she spends a couple pages explaining what was truth and what was not–and sometimes the reasons why she did so.
I think it’s important, and I wish films would do the same. How many kids do you think JFK is a documentary? History is being distorted left and right.
In regards to the Holocaust, director Steven Spielberg poured a lot of money into interviewing Holocaust survivors and putting his project together in a way that will not allow later generations to alter the story line.
That’s important work and what a fine use of his resources/ money for future generations.
Fiction is fiction, even speculative fiction, but it needs to remain at least close to the emotional heart of truth.
Otherwise it’s libel, right?
Michelle, I thought about JFK in regards to art vs. accuracy as well. But Oliver Stone had an agenda, and he made sure we understood what he thought. It made for a riveting movie–that wasn’t based on fact. Sigh.
Thanks for the mention of Ann Rinaldi; I haven’t read her novels, but it sounds as though she gives us a good model to follow as we make adjustments to facts for the sake of art.
I haven’t seen this mentioned yet. I saw Selma last weekend and stayed till the last credit rolled by. One of the last bits was a disclaimer that the movie was not a documentary and that some of the actual people portrayed may not have been present where depicted. I didn’t like that they’d messed with history to that extent, but I’m glad now that it was brought out – at least at the end (should have been at the beginning).
Jane Kirkpatrick, who has a million books in print, lists each character and/or event at the end of the book with a brief explanation about what is fiction and what is real. It’s refreshing that she handles history so respectfully.
I love this discussion today.
Kathy, thanks for letting us know about Selma’s end-of-the-credits disclaimer. I understand why it was tucked onto the end of the credits as opposed to at the beginning, but still, it seems wholly inadequate.
Michelle, your comment about fiction distorting history made me remember an incident from almost two decades ago. I learned that my special needs child was reading Huckleberry Finn. I questioned his teacher, because I knew he couldn’t handle the dialect. “It’s an easy reader version,” the teacher responded. “The only thing that bothers me is that they call Jim a handyman.”
Really?
Oh, now there’s a minor detail.
Oh, my. Shirlee, my head is spinning. I can see an easy reader version of Huckleberry Finn cutting back on dialect and maybe condensing the narrative a bit–but how can they remove the central point of the story? I sure hope that “version” has been long relegated to history’s dust pile.
I’ll toss something in here from personal experience – recent experience.
At 0200 this morning, I received word of the death of a family member from whom I had been irredeemably estranged.
Yes, there was a primitive glee, but it was subsumed into something else – something surprising.
Death is a wall, and the other side of that wall is in God’s hands. I’ll tolerate no inaccurate comments concerning this individual, who can no longer speak in self-defense.
Defending a dead enemy? Yes.
The dead are dependent upon us for an accurate legacy. If we fail them, for political correctness, revenge, or profit, we are truly damned.
That’s a good point, Andrew. To play with the facts is to play with a person’s legacy, and if that individual can no longer define him or herself, it’s all the more egregious for us to slant the retelling of events to please us.
When I read or watch historical fiction, I don’t want the creators to change facts. I am perfectly fine with guessing at details that are unknown. When they had Moses meet Zipporah dancing in Egypt before he met her tending the sheep, I was fine with that kind of artistic license. They were guessing at something we don’t know for sure. They might have met earlier…maybe??? But changing stuff that we do know ticks me off. Guess all you want about the unknown, just don’t change the real stuff, I want to learn a little from historical fiction. How can I learn if the facts are changed.
Kristen, we do want to trust the artists who tell us stories to remain true to what history tells us actually happened. But the novelist or filmmaker is always faced with how to bend history into a compelling story arc with sympathetic characters. Therein lies the challenge.
All writers of historical fiction struggle with this. I’m always leery of “animating” true historical figures in my novels for this very reason – if you don’t get their personality and views right, you dishonor the real person and mislead readers.
In my opinion, the danger of the error made in Selma is that viewers will take it as truth. You’ll hear it quoted as fact: “LBJ opposed the civil rights movement.”
Yes, we have to telescope events, skip events, and replace true historical figures with our fictional characters. But we must be careful not to skew the truth about the essence of who people were.
It’s one thing to place LBJ at an event he didn’t attend for narrative purposes or to put fictional words in his mouth that are true to his character. But to change the essence of his character is another matter entirely.
Amen, Sarah. I know you face these questions all the time as you write your WWII novels. I appreciate your fervent commitment to remaining true to the facts.
Well said, Sarah. I would certainly want “the essence” of my character preserved when I’m gone.
When I wrote four biographical novels on real women of history (Jane Austen and Martha Washington, to name two) I tried very hard to be accurate. But of course there were gaps in the information. And I was creating dialogue that was fictional. To explain this to readers, at the back of the books I included a “Fact and Fiction” section to tell the reader where I had to fudge. And also tell them where the amazing history was indeed true.
When I wrote “The Journey of Josephine Cain” the story was about the building of the Transcontinental Railroad. That was the backdrop though. The story was about fictional characters. And so I chose to condense time for the sake of story, as the real “event” went on for many, many years. I admitted this in a letter to the reader in the back of the book.
I’ve never had a complaint about my use of history, maybe because I’ve been honest with the reader about it.
Nancy, thanks for examples of how you handled fact vs. fiction. That’s very helpful. I think for novelists, adding an explanation such as you did is relatively easy. But that’s much more difficult for a filmmaker–nor do I think filmmaker’s want to have to justify their choices. Let me add, I find that maddening.
As a historian who turned to writing historical fiction, I struggled with this issue, especially early on. To avoid historical inaccuracy, I fictionalized my major characters, staying as true to history as possible while building a satisfying story arc. When cameos of actual historical figures appear in the story, I’ve strived to stay faithful to what I know of them.
Colleen, thank you for your approach to your novels.
When it comes to someone’s legacy, I think it’s wrong to sully a reputation for art’s sake. Now the younger generation may not know the truth about LBJ’s legacy because of the weight they place on films.
Yes, Karla, who is going to remember, even a year from now, the historians’ outcry against the film? And it wouldn’t surprise me if teachers chose to show this film to educate students in an entertaining way. Um-hm, and thus fiction becomes fact.
Exactly, Janet. And this only contributes to the race relations crisis. It does nothing to help it nor does it help our nation go forward and heal.
Well, Janet. Honestly, to me the excuse of “art” is a cop out. The film dealt with an actual life, a man who had lived and was very well known. At the outset,she should have made clear that the film would not hold to facts, be a documentary, and placed a disclaimer at the beginning. Film makers seem to have no regard for what really happened and just want to do what sounds good to them. And that also goes for films made from novels. They often do not hold to the story told on paper.
If I’m working with a nonfiction story, I Never make things up, but I know people who do, good writers too. We have a responsibility and duty to put things down correctly. Many times written work is used as facts in the future, and I have found some that are wrong. Sure wish it was not so.
Wanda, yes, authors and filmmakers are assuming an inherent responsibility when they choose to portray actual events and real people. Some take that responsibility seriously, others…not so much. A cavalier attitude is hard to justify, in my opinion.
What a great topic for discussion! As a non-fiction writer for women in English and Spanish, one of the things I enjoy is stepping into a Bible character’s story and re-telling it from her perspective. I use some artistic license, but work to maintain the integrity of the original Bible story.
However, in the Bible story, we often don’t get to see the emotions behind the story – for example the significant emotional healing for the woman healed of the issue of blood when Jesus called her Daughter – I suggest that the emotional healing was possibly even more significant than the physical healing.
I believe that re-telling a Bible story in an artistic way that maintains the integrity of the story while bringing in historical and cultural context enhances the artistry AND the accuracy.
Michelle, your example is a good one of how to remain true to the original source and add layers of meaning. As Andrew pointed out in one of his comments, the misconceptions about Christ in The Temptation of Christ veered off in an entirely different direction.
It is a fine line to walk, but one worth exploring as we seek the story behind the stories.
I bathe these writings in prayer and enjoy reading the story in various versions of the Bible to glean details I might’ve otherwise overlooked.
The bending of historical fact in nonfiction has also resulted in some long-standing misconceptions that in many cases have found their way into the historical canon for certain events.
Fuchida Mitsuo’s narrative of the Battle of Midway was the first popular version published, and set the tone for future researchers; after all, he led the Pearl Harbour attack, and was AT Midway (though ill with appendicitis).
But the picture he painted was wrong, not only in detail, but in overall concept, and it took half a century before researchers like Lundstrom, parshall, and Tully were able to frame and document a very different sequence of events that led to the destruction of the heart of the Japanese carrier fleet.
Fuchida also pilloried the admiral in charge of the First Carrier Striking Force, Nagumo Chuichi, for failings that led to defeat…but he accused Nagumo of failing to implement decisions that were simply not part of Japanese naval doctrine (like two-phase air searches)…which were not a part of American doctrine in 1942, either).
There had to be a villain, or at least a fall guy. Nagumo was dead (by his own hand in 1944, at the fall of Saipan), and he was a good choice. He wasn’t too popular anyway.
But Fuchida’s words carried great weight, and many who followed him with books of their own – including the late and talented Walter Lord – accepted his assertions without truly questioning them.
In point of fact, Fuchida was somewhat self-serving, and was seen as such in Japan while he was still revered as a primary source in the West. His narrative, of a seat-of-the-pants defeat that hung on a few critical minutes, made great fiction, and was intended to rehabilitate the image of Japanese naval aviation (Nagumo excepted), but it simply wasn’t true.
Andrew, thank you for this powerful example of what happens when a writer takes a callous view of actual facts. It’s an important reminder to ask ourselves on whom we imbue the title of “authority.”
When I write, I believe in being as accurate as possible, even in fiction, which is why I do lengthy research. I don’t always use what I find, but I do ensure any facts I place in my writing are true. Poetic license can often be misused, such as in Selma and other works out there. That, ruins the moment for me. When I read or view something and then, I research something that intrigued me and find out the author etc. “lied” I’m not interested in anything else that produce. But that’s just me and my humble opinion.
Art vs. accuracy for me is not a controversial thing. Art is imitation of life and when something is altered, for me, it changes everything.
Thanks for raising such a valid question.
Cheers!
S.J. Francis
Thanks for sharing your opinion, SJ.
Hello Janet! When I read your post, I immediately thought about ‘Unbroken’, the movie directed by Angelina Jolie.
My disclaimer is that I have not yet read the book or seen the movie, but I’ve learned through a reliable source that the movie omits the last several chapters of Hillenbrand’s book, leaving out Zamperini’s conversion to Christianity (following a Billy Graham festival), and the powerful effect of the Gospel on his life.
If only Ms Jolie had subscribed to Paul Harvey’s philosophy “…and now you know the rest of the story!”
I’m assuming it was a calculated decision, however.
Kathy, you and I and most of my blog readers would see that as an egregious omission in the Unbroken film. But I read an article in which Jolie stated she and Zamperini were in agreement that the film wouldn’t be as specific in depicting the transformation Louis experienced through his conversion. But apparently his faith had quite an influence on Angelina, and one day, when they needed clear skies to film a segment but clouds were hanging heavy, she decided to do what Louis would have done, and she prayed. Just to tie the event in a neat bow, the skies did clear long enough to shoot the scene.
Unbroken is a very long book, which depicts much of Louis’s colorful and jam-packed life. Lots would need to be left out of a two-hour film. I don’t say that to justify leaving out such a vital event, but as viewers, we do have to ask ourselves what we would do as the creative director.
I’m glad to hear she’s open about it. You never know when there’s so much social media hype about something if it was an omission to keep things from being controversial, an oversight, or for a different, but specific reason.
Exactly, which is why I long for filmmakers to be more forthcoming about some of the interesting decisions they make. It would be nice if they believed viewers are intelligent enough to understand the constraints an artist is under once we are told the specifics of how the pros and cons were weighed–and if they were weighed. My guess–and this is just a blind guess–is that the director of Selma didn’t know what LBJ’s stance was on race. She was focused on telling MLK’s story.
Thanks for that perspective, Janet.
I’m happy that Mr. Zamperini had the opportunity to share his faith with those around him!
As someone who writes to share my personal story and encourage others to be equally authentic, I view the discussion differently. For me, the ‘art’ of writing is figuring out how to communicate my story in such a way that is easy to relate to and compels readers to respond and interact. I feel a burden to make sure the stories I tell are exact and accurate because I cannot expect authenticity as a reasonable response if I am not authentic myself.
However, sometimes I feel myself panicking that my version or perspective of the story is skewed too much and that my readers are missing something important, merely because I remember something differently than it may have happened. So, my struggle is showing myself grace in that what I remember combined with the collective memory of other people is the best I have to offer.
Becky, I think you’re right that someone who writes about her own experiences has a different kind of burden–worrying that her perspective and/or memory of events is accurate. Most memoirists put a disclaimer somewhere in their books that their stories are being told to the best of their ability. In my work with those who write memoirs, not only is accuracy a concern but so also is deciding how much dialogue to recreate and which details to fill in with made-up items (color of a dress or some other specific description that adds vividness to a scene but doesn’t matter if it’s correct).
Yes! I’m glad to hear I’m not the only one.
Fantastic topic, Janet, and as the comments have shown, it applies to both fiction and nonfiction. As a collaborative writer of memoirs (among other things), I’ve faced the challenge of truth-telling. I’ll share a few of my ethical dilemmas and how I’ve responded to them. These are my own opinions, and I understand not all will agree with my conclusions (although some agree with the comment that immediately precedes mine):
Q. May I create dialogue to help move the story along/read like a novel?
Yes, as long as it’s true to the individual’s character and memory. No one remembers exact conversations. But dialogue is a great way to put the reader in the moment.
Q. Should I create events or shift them around in time to make the story more interesting?
No. I need to stay true to the facts and trust God to help me write them in a compelling way. Otherwise, I need to call this fiction rather than memoir.
Q. Should I leave out events and/or individuals I choose not to include?
A. Yes, I have freedom to do that (in my case, according to the author’s desire) because a memoir is a series of snapshots. For example, in a recent memoir I wrote, the author chose not to include negative information about a former employee who had turned against her. We mentioned the author had faced difficult times (and many others were shown in the story without placing blame on others) but did not focus either on the wrong actions or the individual.
If I were writing an autobiography, I would have felt more of an obligation to include details like this. But in a memoir, the author has the freedom to be much more selective.
These are just a few examples of the ethical decisions I face with one specific genre (your mention of a disclaimer, above, would cover some of these as well).
I also think your question has even more relevance in view of the recent withdrawal from publication of the “Boy Who Came Back from Heaven” book. Truth matters, and author-reader trust is a crucial element. We have an obligation to wrestle with these issues and decide how to handle them as Christians, as artists, and as truth-tellers. Thanks for making me think–again.
Marti, I so appreciate your taking the time to spell out the guidelines you’ve created for yourself in being accurate and true in writing memoirs. The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven is a sad example of a big lie that sold well. How distressing that it wasn’t a matter of the author making a mistake or incorrectly using creative license but was instead a falsehood.
Such an interesting conversation out here. As a voracious fiction reader and a major film buff I agree that conflict and drama are the obvious choices. While I have not seen the film and am blissfully unaware of the details of the civil rights movement, I can guess that in a given situation if there are multiple antagonists, the writer / director may take traits from them and distribute to a smaller set of characters. Easier to portray on screen and easier for a casual reader to follow. In such cases, the writer /director often says my work is inspired by a true event rather than based on it. For a creatively fiendish mind, it could also be an exploration of what could be rather than what is…
Wow, a lot of good comments on this post!
I too struggle a little bit with this because it is so subjective. In general, I try to keep all of the facts accurate. There are plenty of things that are not well documented, so those are the ones I take liberty on. In one of my biblical works, I used a fiction thread to weave different periods of the Bible together, some readers loved it, others hated it.
Amber, I’m not sure, but it sounds as thought you interspersed nonfiction writing with that fictional thread. I can see how that might tread on some people’s toes because they might feel you’re playing with the sanctity of Scripture. Others saw it as a creative effort. Several years ago, I wrote a Bible study, and the editor asked me to start each lesson with a fictionalized scene from the Bible. I was nervous about how users would respond, but they seemed to really like it. But it was clear that the stories were based on facts from the Bible, and I think it helped that the rhythm of each lesson was consistent, with the fiction appearing only at the beginning of each lesson.
Wow, I missed a great discussion yesterday! 🙂
This is quite relevant to me now, as I’m plotting a historical novel set at Fort Tejon, CA, in 1863-4…the most historically-specific manuscript I’ve done, and I’m trying to figure out how to best be accurate while working the facts well into a story. I know the actual names of some of the commanders and soldiers stationed at the fort during this period, and actual events that happened, so how do I reflect what it was really like while not misrepresenting those characters…many of whom we don’t know a whole lot about? Some things I’ve pondering.
I went to see Selma yesterday and was very moved by it. I’m grieved that the historical inaccuracies with Johnson are overshadowing such a powerful film that does have so much truth in it, historically and spiritually. I found this article (actually referred to by the director) interesting in detailing the historical background of the movie, and a couple of lines may shed some light on why the movie makers made the choices they did concerning Johnson, though others are certainly unfortunate: http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2013/07/08/the-color-of-law
Thanks, Kiersti, for the link to the thorough and engaging New Yorker article.
The great news about the Fort Tejon men whose names are known is that little else is known about them. That leaves all kinds of room for your imagination to take over.
That’s true–thanks, Janet! 🙂