hello. how do you imagine hephaestion, esp look-wise?
Another question from Tumblr that yielded a long response of possible interest to others....
Apologies in advance for a long discussion, but…it’s a long discussion (with pretty pictures?).
With Hephaistion, we have only ONE statue that’s positively identified (e.g. he’s named).
Several others are IDed as him by art historians, but it’s speculation,
and alternative IDs have been offered. To complicate matters further,
the one certainly identified sculpture is a dedicatory plaque (currently
in the Thessalonike Museum, image below). These are often “idealized,”
or even pre-carved to be selected by the purchaser. So we can’t be sure the image of Hephaistion on the plaque was what he actually looked like.
Of
the images identified as him, but not certainly named, they fall into 3
basic categories. First, the hopelessly generic “young ephebe,” of
which the Getty head is perfect, although the Getty head is, also, quite
likely a FORGERY. Yet it’s still a good example of the “type.” If you
compare this to generic Classical and early Hellenistic portraiture of
young men in their late teens/early 20s, you’ll see there’s really
nothing DISTINCTIVE (e.g., a likeness, or even a portrait) about it. So
this isn’t what he looked like, either, issues of forgery aside.
There
are two other types, one a sort of oval face where (honestly) he looks
sorta dim–the so-called “Demetrios” statue (which might, in fact, BE
Demetrios Poliorketes), and another type that has a squarish jaw, and–of
them all–seems the closest to a portrait. Whatever I said above about
the Thessaloniki dedication, it does fall into that third
category, which I call “Square-jaw Hephaistion.” Maybe that’s the one
physical attribute we can give him? Incidentally, in the novel, I do
describe him in several places as “square-jawed” in reference to that.
But the head that has always intrigued me most is the Prado Bronze.
Today, it’s more commonly called Demetrios Poliorketes, but the head
isn’t positively named. I’ve seen other portraits of Poliorketes, and I
don’t think it’s the same person (hair motif aside). That doesn’t make
it Hephaistion, of course, but there are arguments in favor of that
identification. (But, alas, the jaw is mostly missing/smashed, so I
can’t use the “square jaw” argument, ha.)
ERGO, the Prado Bronze remains my “Hephaistion head-cannon” from ancient statuary.
When
Riptide was asking me for input for the cover images, I sent the above
image-, as well as the Akropolis head for Alexander. They also asked
about human models, and for Alexander, I didn’t have one. Yet L.C. Chase used the Akropolis head and worked some sort of
wonderful voodoo to find that stock model because he knocked me on my ass.
Whoever he is, he’s as close to a living model for Alexander that I’ve
seen. Well, he’s too pretty (my Alexander is less attractive with a
crooked nose), but, my God, THOSE EYES. Perfect.
For Hephaistion, I went out to poke around a bit on the web, Prado
Bronze in mind, and came across a Portuguese model named Vick Correia
who, while not a dead ringer, I thought could be a younger
version of the Prado. Correia’s mouth is wider, and his nose is not that
no-dip-between-the-eyes blade of a Greek nose, but…it’s not a bad
match. Plus he just happened to have long, curly hair and dark coloring.
So, here’s the image of Correia that I first saw that made me go,
“THERE HE IS!”
ANOTHER:
And Number 3 (that shows off the square jaw on the model)
LC
(the cover artist) couldn’t use Correia himself for book 2, for a
variety of reasons (mostly related to COST), but she went hunting for as
close as she could get, and it’s…not bad. I joke about him as “Vampire
Hephaistion” but that’s partly a function of fixing the hair (it’s too,
too straight) and using a “blue wash” on the color. Yet comparing the
stock model next to Correia, it’s all right. (I’m actually more concerned by the ROMAN aquaduct in the background; if she’d asked, I’d have
recommended using the Temple to Hephaistos in the Athenian agora…what a
wonderful visual pun!)
ANYway–and
the hunt for living models aside–given the absolute paucity of certain
images of Hephaistion, we have to turn to the literature, which is only a
bit more help. There are two glancing descriptions of him, both found
in Curtius, and another that’s a couple degrees removed but still might
give us something.
In Curtius book 3, we have our longest description of Hephaistion in
any ancient source, and by “description,” I mean information about him,
not just physical. The physical in the description is frustratingly
brief. We’re told that he was “of larger physique” than Alexander, and
attractive. The Latin usually translated as “taller” really just means
“bigger” (and not as in fatter). But yes, “taller” would certainly work.
A LOT of modern fiction authors do portray him as not only larger but
taller, sometimes notably so. Yet keep in mind, Curtius is only
comparing him to Alexander, who was apparently a bit short. So to
be honest, he could have been of average height. (But where’s the fun
in that? And I have a reason I think he was actually tall/large.)
Later
in (I think? I’m doing this from memory) book 6 of Curtius, Hephaistion
is compared to another Page who had (apparently) caught Alexander’s
eye. The Page came off the worse for the comparison, being called
perhaps as attractive, but not as virile, or manly.
But that’s all we got from the texts. It doesn’t add up to much.
In the book, I gave him dark coloring for an historical reason. First,
I’d like to point out that the ancient Greeks were not as COLOR (hue)
focused as we are. They elevated other qualities such as brightness,
contrast, etc. Sometimes their terms for colors (frustratingly) throw
together shades we consider distinct. Blue can be gray can be green.
“Melas,” just means “dark,” so Melas Boukephalas could have been any
shade from black to brown. Ergo, what color Alex’s hair was remains a
debated point. He’s called ruddy-fair in complexion, but Plutarch never named his hair color.
If the Istanbul sarcophagus can be believed (which, together with the
Pella mosaics, I think it can be), Alexander was a *strawberry blond*.
That would perfectly match a ruddy-fair complexion. But note hair color
is our obsession, not theirs.
That said, I chose to give
Hephaistion dark coloring because of his probable Ionic-Attic roots,
which I’ve talked about before, and which I’m working on the finishing
touches of a loooong-ass epigraphic/onomastic digital mapping project.
BUT, Athenians and others of Ionic roots were described as darker than
Dorians (or Aeolians). So Hephaistion’s hair/eyes in the novel are
“black” (melas). That just means his hair is super dark espresso brown
and his eyes are “cow eyes.” Btw, the Greek considered that a
COMPLIMENT. Hera is described as having beautiful “cow eyes.”
Last … the whole SIZE thing. If you look at statuary of Alexander, he
may have been of slightly less than average height, but he’s almost
routinely shown to have broad shoulders and a wide chest. Maybe that’s
idealization, too, but not necessarily. We know he fought in the front
line, he was a runner, and he was just damn strong. So I’m inclined to
think of him as shortish, but *broad*. (Not unlike my father,
incidentally, who as a young soldier in WW II had a build very like
Alexander’s in statuary. And my father, although only 5′8″ on a good
day, was not only stronger than his taller contemporaries, but as tough
as nails.)
So keep that in mind, when Curtius says Hephaistion is
“larger in physique.” Alexander is not *small* or skinny. He’s just
short.
Now, one LAST piece…Hephaistion is described as leading the
“bodyguard” at Gaugamela. Lots of confusion over that. Doesn’t mean the
Bodyguard (as in the 7-man Somatophylakes) but the bodyguard, the
Hypaspists. And the Hypaspists were, under Philip, called the
Pezhetairoi. The infantry were just “pezes” …footmen. Alex gave the name
Pezhetairoi to the infantry as an honor, so needed a new name for the
special crack unit his father created. He chose the term hypaspists,
which meant “Shield bearer.” It’s an honorary term for (usually) the
leader’s inner circle. Patroklos would have been a hypaspist for
Achilles.
But we’re told something else about ol’ Phil’s Pezhetairoi. In selecting his crack troops, he didn’t use regional units (as usual) for regular sarissaphoi (infantry). INSTEAD, he selected men based on SIZE. The biggest and best fighters.
So if Hephaistion is leading the Hypaspists (=Pezhetairoi) at
Gaugamela, and by leading, that’s probably the agema and (so Waldemar
Heckel, and I think he’s right) the exclusive Hammipoi of the
Hypaspists, HEPHAISTION WAS BIG GUY. Probably not only in height but in
musculature.
In the novel, I still have him as a skinny late teen/early
20-something. He’s only 22 when Rise ends. But he’s still maturing.
He’ll become sizable as the novel series progresses. :-)
I just
finished ‘Becoming’ and I absolutely loved it! I just wondered if you
believe that AtG and Hephaistion continued their romantic relationship
throughout their lives or if you think they let that side of their
friendship go as they got older as was more common at the time?
Anyway! I absolutely loved ‘Becoming’ and I can’t wait to read ‘Rise’!
I’m guessing you’re asking about the historical people, as opposed to the fictional characters? I do hope/plan to continue the Dancing with the Lion
series, and in it, yes, they will remain romantically involved. Whether
or not future novels are bought, however, rests on how well Becoming and Rise do. (So if you want more, get the word out and post reviews. *grin*)
Yet, with regard to the historical men,
I think it’s very hard to know whether they remained sexual partners as
adults. And the reason it’s hard to know involves the difficulty of our
surviving sources.
As soon as historians start talking SOURCES, a lot of folks tune out. It’s BORING. *grin* But in order to give an honest answer, I kinda have to Go There.
First, let me give the TL;DR version. If they were still sexually involved as adults, I suspect it was quite occasional. And the fact it was
quite occasional (if at all), may be why we don’t hear anything about
it in the sources (discussion to follow). After all, they were both
extremely busy men with duties and responsibilities that sometimes kept
them apart for months. If they were still sexually/romantically
involved, they had what we’d today call a long-distance relationship at
points…and without the benefit of cell phones.
It may have been a
gradual “weaning” from each other, rather than anything sharp. So they
may have been lovers as teens, then over time, each took younger
beloveds, and finally, wives—all while remaining emotionally very, very
close. (Although I suspect that, like any friendship OR love affair,
they had ups-and-downs, fights and reconciliations.)
Now, here’s why the TL;DR summary above gets a big fat label: “SPECULATION.”
The sources are the only way we know anything about the past, and if they can’t be trusted, or at least not trusted in toto, we have a Really Big Problem. So let me lay it out.
Before
I do, however, I want to remind readers that I DO think Alexander and
Hephaistion were lovers, at least in their youth. But no, it’s not
“obvious.” Theirs wasn’t a world especially reticent about same-sex
affairs (*cough* see below), even if post-Christian, modern historians
had trouble with it until the last 40 years or so. So if the (surviving)
ancient authors don’t talk about them as lovers, even while discussing
other same-sex pairs in the same damn text, we have to ask…why? One very real possibility is that they didn’t talk about them as lovers because theyweren’t. Full stop. There could have been other reasons (I think there were), but let’s not flinch from being honest, here. So…back to our Persnickety Sources.
First,
nothing has survived that Alexander wrote himself. We have a couple
public inscriptions, but not one piece of writing, even a letter, from
Alexander. (Any surviving letters are quoted in later sources, and
probably aren’t real.*)
Second, nothing has survived
written by anyone who actually knew Alexander, or even lived when he
did, except forensic speeches from Athenian demagogues who mostly hated
him (and weren’t writing histories anyway). One may as well trust
Demosthenes on Philip.
The sources we do still have used
histories written by those who knew Alexander, such as Ptolemy,
Aristobulos, Nearchos, Marsyas, and even the court historian,
Kallisthenes. They also used other texts of dubious worth, such as
Onesikritos, who was made fun of even in his own day for writing
“historical fiction.” And sometimes our later authors were using texts
who, themselves, were using earlier texts. So we’ve got three (or more) layers, not just two!
Third, we have not just layers of sources, but layers in the CULTURE behind those sources.
The first layer is, of course, Macedonian.
How did the Macedonians themselves view Alexander? We don’t know—not
truly. Nothing survives from a Macedonian source, such as Marsyas or
Ptolemy. (Some of you “in the know” might be thinking, But Polyaenus!
No. Polyaenus lived 500 years after ATG; that was a very different
Macedonia. [Yes, I used the Latin spelling, as he was Roman. ;p])
The second layer is Greek,
but we have to qualify this. Layer 2.0 is Greece of the 4th century,
especially Athenian reactionism, writing about the emerging Macedonian
kingdom. There could be huge cultural differences even among Greek
city-states. Case in point: Athens vs. Sparta. Greeks didn’t always
understand Macedonians (sometimes, I swear, on purpose).
BUT
we also have the increasingly homogenized Hellenistic world of the
Successors, which was sorta like when you throw in a bunch of different
colored shirts and wash them in hot water. You get a color-bleeding
mess. Your red shirt (Attic-Ionic) might have a big blue streak (Doric)
on it now. That’s sort of what happened to Greek culture as the
Hellenistic era progressed. Lots of bleed. This had begun prior to
Alexander, but he accelerated it like kerosene on a trash fire. We can
call that Greek Layer 2.1, or something.
Then we have the Romans,
and their culture, which, if similar to Greek, definitively wasn’t
Greek in key ways. All our surviving sources were written as the
Republic was collapsing and the Empire emerging, and by that point,
Greece was a Roman province.
Again, we’ve got two groups
here: Greeks living under Roman rule, such as Plutarch, Diodorus, and
Arrian—who wrote in Greek—and then Roman authors such as Curtius, and
later Justin, who wrote in Latin. But the Greeks under Rome shouldn’t be
conflated with Athenians in ATG’s own day, or even under the
Successors. The culture evolved and took on Roman shadings.
So that’s not just layers of sources, but layers of cultures trying to understand what people who lived a hundred or two hundred or three hundred years before them thought/believed.
Ergo,
are we hearing what Alexander (or anybody else around him) really
thought or intended? Or just what writers of the Second Sophistic (such
as Plutarch) wanted him to model? Or how even later authors, such as
Arrian, wanted to use him to flatter his patron, Hadrian?
What’s
Roman, what’s Greek, and what’s Macedonian? Can we tease that out? I’d
say it’s damn tricky, and often, flat impossible—although unlike some of
my colleagues, I don’t believe it’s all Roman overlay. That goes too
far in the other direction, IMO.
Last, we have several authors who
weren’t writing about Alexander specifically, but have bits of
Alexander lore embedded in their texts: Athenaeus’s “Supper Party,” or
Polyaenus’s “Strategems,” or even Plutarch’s “Moralia,” just to name
three.
Among these, especially later, we have authors writing material they (or later readers) tried to pass off as written by earlier
authors. We often refer to these authors with the preface “Pseudo-” as
in “Pseudo-Kallisthenes.” It was NOT written by Kallisthenes, but was
later attributed to him.
So, now you have some idea of why Alexander historians want to pull our hair out!
But
I detail that to explain why it’s so hard for me to give you any clear
answer about whether Alexander and Hephaistion remained lovers as adults. Or
even if they were lovers at all.
In none of our five primary
histories of Alexander, nor in Plutarch’s other stuff, nor Athenaeus,
etc. is Hephaistion ever called Alexander’s lover. This includes sources
that do mention with apparent unconcern other pairs of male lovers. So this isn’t “the love that dared not speak it’s name.” The Greeks were pretty okay with talking about their boyfriends.
There
could be OTHER reasons for deep-sixing mention of Hephaistion and
Alexander as lovers, mostly having to do with status (some of which I
touched on in the novels), yet the lack of clear affirmation is a problem.
The only mentions we do have come from late sources, one of which
belongs to that category of “pseudo-” authors I mentioned:
Pseudo-Diogenes (in Aelian), as well as Arrian recording the Stoic
Epiktatos. The philosophers are trying to make a point about the dangers
of giving in to physical desire, so it’s hard to know how much credit
to give these references.
Thus, we’re left with little besides the
indirect (e.g., the Achilles-Patroklos allusions, etc.). Those have
their own problems, which I’ll not go into now, as I’ve already written a
small essay.
One potential reason for a lack of mention in our
surviving sources is that any sexual love affair had been a product of
their youth. What remained was a fiercely deep and passionate devotion.
Before you pooh-pooh that—Of course they were still having sex!—consider
modern marriages that have lasted for decades but no longer include
sexual activity, at least between the married partners. Don’t be sucked in by Romance novel tropes.
When
I was doing bereavement counseling (et al.), I ran into all sorts of
arrangements that married couples made across time. Some marriages break
up when the partners stop being sexually attracted to each other, and
“cheat.” But others don’t, because it’s not “cheating” if it’s mutually
agreed to. Or in some cases, the partners simply lost interest in sex as
they aged…but didn’t fall out of love with each other. So they might
have sex once a year? Maybe? That was enough. Or they had sex on the
side, with permission. People don’t fit into boxes well, IME. Honesty
was the hallmark of marriages that lasted even when they weren’t still
having sex. I’ve known of marriages where the couples had stopped having
sex years ago, but when one of them died, the other was completely devastated
because of the enormous EMOTIONAL investment. I think that’s what hit
Alexander when Hephaistion died. Maybe they were still having sex, at
least once in a blue moon. Maybe they weren’t. That didn’t matter.
LOVE is deeper than sex, by a long shot. Which is why the Greeks counted PHILIA (true friendship) as the superior love to eros (desire).
So whether Alexander and Hephaistion were still sexually involved—or had ever had sex—doesn’t reflect the depth of their love for each other. We
might not be told by the sources that they were lovers, physically,
either as youths or continuing into adulthood. But the sources are abundantly clear that they loved each other best of all. When Hephaistion died, Alexander followed him about 10 months later.
(Final
note: what I intend to do in the series, going forward, is a bit
different from what I described here, but that’s why I specified this
involves the historical men, not necessarily my fictional characters.)
*My
reference to quoted material, such as letters—or speeches—not being
real: it was a common practice in the ancient world for the author of
histories to just MAKE SHIT UP. It
was all about showing off one’s own rhetorical skills. I think, in a
lot of cases, we are probably getting at least the gist of what was
said. But NEVER, EVER, EVER trust the “transcription” of an ancient
speech…unless it was actually recorded later by the author. So, say,
Demosthenes’ Philippics are probably a cleaned up version of the
speeches he delivered. But Alexander’s “Speech at Opis” is NOT what
Alexander actually said.
I get that question ALL the time.
The poor horse has been beaten to death, and discussion always ends in an examination
of Greek terminology that’s largely academic. I’ve
written about it before elsewhere.
I’d like to look at this from a different
angle, here.
For decades (maybe centuries), Alexander has been
an icon in the queer community. That upsets a portion of his fanbase,
including some Greeks. When early publicity for Oliver Stone’s 2004 blockbuster
hinted that Alexander had male lovers, a group of
Greek lawyers threatened to sue him. Yet as in the rest of Europe, the
younger generation cares less, and in 2015, Greece passed recognition of
same-sex civil unions, even if they couldn’t quite make the leap to call it “marriage.”
As a result, resistance to Alexander as gay, or at least bisexual, has lessened
in Greece. Somewhat.
In the rest of the Western
world, “Was Alexander gay?” has shifted for many to “Alexander was gay.”
Question to statement.
How’d we get here? Indulge me
in a tour of Alexander’s treatment in modern history and recent fiction.
I’ll keep it as brief as possible, but stay for the payoff, ‘kay?
The earliest modern historians
of Alexander (late 1800s) wouldn’t even talk about Alexander and men. Then, in
the 1930s, W. W. Tarn wrote a “defense” of him from those naughty insinuations
in his 2-book biography. It wasn’t very convincing unless you were inclined to
be convinced. After, either silence or righteous indignation were the usual responses
to the matter, and historians routinely ignored Hephaistion (his probable
lover) in their work because it might bring up the homosexual thing.
Then, in 1958, Ernst Badian
published, “The Eunuch Bagoas” in The Classical Quarterly, and the
ground shook. Yes, his article influenced Mary Renault’s later Persian Boy,
but it wasn’t a manifesto on Alexander’s same-sex partners. Badian sought to
rehabilitate the ancient sources that Tarn had dismissed because they’d
suggested that Bagoas was, you know, REAL. Hence the article title.
After, scholarship began to talk
about Alexander and men. Yet a certain discomfort remained. Most ATG (Alexander
the Great) historians of the time were cis white straight guys. If many (some
of whom I know personally, so can vouch for) were also left-leaning agnostic/atheist
liberals, people are products of their era. They might acknowledge that Alexander
had male lovers, but thinking too closely about it was outside their comfort
zone.*
In addition, this new generation coincided
with the “Badian Revision” that attacked Alexander’s image as Romantic Hero or
Gentleman Conqueror—fairly, to be honest. He committed some horrific acts. In
any case, the then-current trend painted him (and his friends and supporters,
including Hephaistion) with a hostile brush, independent of sexual orientation.
Well, maybe. Of them all,
Hephaistion faired worst, and a lot of that assessment was colored by his
emotional role in Alexander’s life.
About the same time, Mary
Renault (herself bisexual) published Fire from Heaven (1969). We might
characterize it as a toe in the water; she’s allusive about Alexander and Hephaistion there. But in 1972, she followed it with The Persian Boy, and threw down
the damn gauntlet.
Oh, what a difference a riot
can make! Hello, Stonewall.
I’ve noticed a tendency among
some younger LGBTQI readers to pooh-pooh Renault for her “off the page” takes on
Alexander and sex, or for her idealizing of Alexander, and I agree about the
idealizing. But we must place her in her proper historical context. At
the time, she was a lightning strike. Whatever I may think of her romanticism,
I recognize her enormous impact, and salute her. You go, Grrrrl.
I collect ATG fiction for snorts
and giggles, have for a long time. But with a couple exceptions where I was
asked to review something, I’ve avoided reading any since 1988 (Judy Tarr's aside, which I edited), in case it even
accidentally influenced my own work. After Dancing
with the Lion sold, however, I finally read what I hadn’t, then
presented conclusions for an academic paper on Alexander and Hephaistion in
fiction post-Stonewall (coinciding with the 50th Anniversary of the
riot), presented at Emory in Atlanta for the 2019 annual meeting of the Association of Ancient
Historians, and later published by Routledge in a collection Kenneth Moore edited. I won’t detail the books I covered, but will share the PATTERNS
I saw, and let you. Gentle Reader, draw conclusions.
First, and most importantly, all
but one novel presented Alexander and Hephaistion as lovers. If the
presentations weren’t universally positive, it marked a sharp break with
pre-Stonewall books.
In every novel wherein Alexander
and Hephaistion’s love affair was positively portrayed, Hephaistion was also
presented positively. Alexander may or may not have been. In every novel
wherein Alexander and Hephaistion’s relationship (and homoeroticism) was
negativized, Hephaistion was also negativized, and usually Alexander as well.
Yet several novels ticked
“neither of the above.” In some, the relationship was problematized, usually
for plot reasons; in others, the author sent mixed messages about homoeroticism
(I think accidentally). Curiously, in most of these, Hephaistion was presented
positively while Alexander was not. Finally, in the single novel where
they were not lovers, Hephaistion was positive, but Greek homoerotic activity
was ignored.
Take-away: authors who portray
the relationship positively, have a positive Hephaistion. Authors who show it
negatively make Hephaistion (and Alexander) morally iffy, at best. Otherwise,
it’s a crap-shoot.
Here’s the kicker (and I bet you
can guess what’s coming): the positive portrayals were all by women, plus one (British-Lebanese)
man. Neutral portrayals might be a mixed bag, gender-wise. The negative ones? All
guys. And the one where they weren’t lovers? A guy.
That, to me, sends a powerful
message about who’s comfortable with the idea, regardless of whether an author
publicly supports LGBTQI rights. Several of the negative ones were published
before 2000, but others were recent-ish.
If the queer civil rights
movement has made great strides in the 21st century, we’re
experiencing a predictable cultural backlash. And in the current environment, I
think it hugely important not just for LGBTQI people generally, but especially
LGBTQI youth to be able to look at history and say, “Hey! Alexander
the Great loved a man, and look what he accomplished!” I won’t go into,
here, whether Alexander was “gay,” “bi,” or if we should even use modern terms; I’ll be happy to do that elsewhere over
a beer.
Here, I want to say that, YES,
dammit, it’s not only okay, but important for the LGBTQI community to claim
Alexander. The fact the person he loved best in the world was another
guy could keep some queer kid from suicide or self-harm, or even just give her/him/them a reason to get out of bed in the morning.
*This has changed
substantially in the past 20 years and it’s now inaccurate to assume
ATG scholars are mostly male, white, or straight. At the last International
Alexander Symposium (2018, Edmonton, AB), hosted by Frances Pownall, a
substantial number of women scholars presented, at least a third. Furthermore,
Frances is, together with Sabine Műller and Sulochana Asirvatham editing the proceeds:
a 3-woman editorial team. Frances is also editing a festschrift for Elizabeth
Carney (one of the most prominent female scholars on Alexander, Macedonia, and
the Successors) along with two others, another of whom is female. And of
course, Sulo is not only not male, she’s not white. This is the new face of
Macedonian scholarship.
When I first announced that I had an historical fiction
book coming out, I got a lot of side-eye.
Not necessarily from my professional colleagues. Yeah, a few were (and remain) skeptical, but of historical fiction period, not
necessarily mine.
It was largely everybody else. Could an academic
spin a good yarn?
Well, we do it all the time. It’s called teaching, at least
if one is any good at it. Not everybody is, of course. Also, what constitutes
“a good yarn” can vary (just read reviews on Amazon).
That said, it’s a fair enough question.
First, I’ve been a writer longer than a professor. I’ve even
published other things (not historical fiction). I’ve joked that most writers
who take their craft seriously do conduct considerable research, they just don’t go on to get a degree in the subject. So it’s probably more fair to say
I’m a writer who became an academic, rather than an academic who became a writer.
Second, to me, telling a story is all about the
characters, and their emotions.
So Dancing
with the Lion begins with a runaway boy who’s angry at the world
because his favorite brother died, and another who fears he’ll never measure up
as the son of the most powerful man in Greece. What happens when they meet?
It’s also about those boys’ relationships with their fathers. And for Alexandros,
with his mother and sisters. It’s a love story, yes, but also a story about
family, and friendship. So it really IS a love story, not just a
“falling in love” story. All kinds of love. And a little bit of hate, too, here
and there.
It happens to be set in ancient Macedonia (a kingdom just
north of Greece). While reading Dancing, I hope readers get the same
sense they might being led around New York City by a native New Yorker. I want
the place to feel PALPABLE. Real. Deep. This isn’t one of those, “See 7 cities
in 6 days” tours.
Yet the story isn’t about Macedonia. The story is about
Alexandros and Hephaistion growing up there. Some of what they experience are
human universals: grief, first love, fear of failure. Some is a little more
specific: going into battle for the first time, or dealing with brawling
parents. Yet for me, the focus remains on how these characters cope with what
they face.
For instance, and without giving too much of a spoiler, in
one scene after Hephaistion has been hurt, Alexandros goes to the temple of
Darron, the Macedonian god of medicine, in order to make a sacrifice for his
friend. It’s not unlike going to the hospital chapel to pray for somebody in
the ER. But I don’t walk readers through the steps of ancient Greek sacrifice.
Nobody is there for my class on Greek religion. The scene is about Alexandros’s
fear for his friend.
That’s why it’s a novel, not a history book.
(*And yes, those are my beaten-up Loebs of the 4 primary Alexander historians [minus Justin]. Once upon a time, they were all pretty and new. LOL.)