Voicing Silent Stories

Giving voice to silent stories from the classical world

In Women & Power: A Manifesto, Mary Beard points out the simple yet devastating fact that “when it comes to silencing women, Western culture has had thousands of years of practice.”1 Historical fiction has a strong tradition of attempting to redress this balance, imagining moments in history not as academic history has traditionally done (and sadly, often still does)—primarily through the lens of “dead white men”, kings and battles—but also via the lives and interests of the women who also experienced those far-off times.

Recently, we have seen an uptick in interest in the women of the classical world, in books such as Jennifer Saint’s Ariadne (2021) and Elektra (2022), Madeline Miller’s Circe (2019), and Pat Barker’s female-centred retelling of The Iliad, The Silence of the Girls (2019) and The Women of Troy (2022).

Elodie Harper admits to being “a huge fan” in particular of Jennifer Saint’s books, as well as “Nikita Gill’s highly original Great Goddesses (2019) – which imagines what the Greek gods may have done after the fall of Olympus. Lore Olympus (2021), which is Rachel Smythe’s graphic novel of the Hades/Persephone myth, is also a fantastic retelling, not least for the gorgeous artwork.”

Harper’s books continue to follow similar themes, but with a difference, focusing instead on the historical realm, rather than the mythological one, and located in the Roman Empire. As she says: “I think the main overlap lies in reimagining a distant past that is very familiar in popular culture, but from a less familiar perspective.” It’s important to Harper to tell the stories that haven’t always been told – from those of women and enslaved people in the town of Pompeii in the period immediately before the eruption of Vesuvius in AD79, to an account of the rescue efforts and refugee crisis afterwards.

The Wolf Den (2021) and The House with the Golden Door (Head of Zeus/Union Square, 2022) are the first two books of a planned trilogy. They follow Amara, a young woman brought up as a middleclass doctor’s daughter, who is sold into slavery when her family’s fortunes go downhill. From a comfortable, pampered life, she is forced into the horrors of prostitution in Pompeii, and must use all of her intelligence and charm to survive life in the town brothel.

Described by the author as “one of life’s born survivors”, Amara is a compelling, complex, and sympathetic protagonist. Harper says of her: “Like anyone experiencing trauma, she is vulnerable as well as determined. I also wanted the reader to be confronted by the realities of Amara’s life. She is a kind, compassionate woman who loves others deeply, but we can only be as good as the choices placed before us. And sometimes none of those choices are good.”

It is not only the female perspective that is important to the author, though, but also one of class and power. As she explains: “It was not just important to focus on women’s stories, but also those of enslaved Romans – both men and women. The ancient world looked very different from further down the social hierarchy.”

The first book of the series, The Wolf Den, explores Amara’s time in the lupanar – the Latin word for a brothel – and the relationships she forges there. While sex (both forced and consensual) and romance are important elements of both books, what really stands out are Amara’s friendships with the other women, and Harper paints a picture of a complex set of attachments, affection and rivalries. She says: “For enslaved people in the Roman era, some of the closest relationships they would have formed were with their fellow slaves within the business or household that owned them. For the women in the lupanar, these relationships would also have been important for their physical safety, due to the dangerous nature of their work. Given they were denied the opportunity to form their own families, their relationships with each other would also have been their main source of emotional support and relief. I wanted to show the loving, compassionate nature of their friendships, but do so in an unsentimental way. They have their rivalries too, and the lupanar would have been a stressful and claustrophobic environment for five women with radically different personalities to find themselves in… I think a sharp wit has been (and continues to be) a crucial tool used by people in less powerful positions to assert their humanity. The women of the lupanar in my books certainly use humour both to create a counterculture and to distance themselves from the men who dominate their lives.”

The second book, The House with the Golden Door, continues with these themes. Amara is now a freedwoman, although her position as a courtesan – and one who still owes money to the violent and dangerous owner of the brothel – remains precarious, and she is forced into ever-more difficult choices as it becomes increasingly

IT WAS important to Harper to include these “fragments” of real people, so many of Harper’s characters are based on them.

clear just how much her new life is built on unstable foundations.

One of the fascinating elements of the book is how she tries to navigate her change in status with her old friends at the lupanar, as well as with the other enslaved people she meets in her new household. She even becomes a slave owner herself, something which modern readers may find difficult to understand, although Harper’s writing gives us a real sense of the complexities of emotion and choice which make up Amara’s mind set. She explains: “This was very challenging to write, but I felt it was important to reflect the mentality of the time. Individuals fought hard to free themselves from slavery, and there was a general understanding among Romans of all classes that slavery was a terrible state to endure, and yet there was no mainstream emancipation movement. Former slaves went on to own others themselves, and the entire economy was based on enslaved labour. This meant I could not have Amara experience thoughts about the inherent moral evils of slavery from outside her own time – but I did give her a sense of empathy, awareness, and discomfort about what she was doing. How far we choose to understand or excuse her decisions is up to the reader.”

Another element of Harper’s books which helps to make them compelling is the fact that she integrates historical reality so seamlessly into her writing. “Pompeii is about as close as you can get to time travel in the Roman world,” she says, when asked why she wanted to set her books there. “It is incredibly evocative, from the astonishing mosaics and frescoes to the wheel ruts in the road. So much of the city survives, and importantly it is not just the grand villas and monuments but also places like the brothel, taverns, fast food joints and shops which would have been an integral part of ordinary people’s lives. This made it the perfect setting for the themes and ideas I wanted to explore in my trilogy.”

The brothel not only survives in the remains of Pompeii, but it also records poignant traces of the reality and humanity of those who lived and worked there, even after more than two thousand years, via the graffiti on the walls. This names some of the inhabitants. It was important to Harper to include these “fragments” of real people, so many of Harper’s characters are based on them, including Cressa, Beronice, Victoria, Fabia, Paris and Felix. She points out that “in the case of Victoria, we even get a glimpse into her personality as she repeatedly refers to herself as Victoria Victrix – Victoria the conqueress.”

Where there is more evidence, Harper has also included other historical characters. In the first two books, we have met Pliny the Elder and Julia Felix. She says of them: “Pliny was based near Pompeii at Misenum and is central to the history of the area; as Admiral of the Roman fleet he commanded the attempted rescue mission after Vesuvius erupted. Julia is less famous but still a relatively well-documented businesswoman who ran a baths and apartment complex in Pompeii. I wanted to include her because all the evidence suggests she was a formidable entrepreneur and somebody Amara might want to befriend.”

In the third book of the trilogy, The Temple of Fortuna, due to be published in 2023, Harper will continue to tell the stories of those we know less about. She says: “I think readers will be expecting Vesuvius to make itself felt... The volcanic eruption is of course what Pompeii is famous for, but less well known is the relief effort, rebuilding and refugee crisis that followed. This is the aspect that most interests me.” It’s a theme which is highly relevant to today’s world, and feels that this will be a fascinating conclusion to a series which has already delivered an enjoyable and emotionally-powerful story.

The writing of history, including historical fiction, is always as much about the present as it is the past. As Mary Beard writes, “Looking harder at Greece and Rome, helps us to look harder at ourselves, and to understand better how we have learned to think as we do”2, and Harper has given us a sensitive and nuanced portrait of a woman doing her best to navigate a complex, challenging world where many of the choices she must make are between bad and worse options – and yet she still manages finds joy, love and friendship amongst the pain. It feels like a good lesson to take from these highly enjoyable books.

REFERENCES

1. Mary Beard

(2017). Women & Power: A Manifesto, London Review of Books, p. xi.

2. Ibid

p. 97.

WRITTEN BY CHARLOTTE WIGHTWICK

Charlotte Wightwick’s writing has been shortlisted for the Lucy Cavendish Fiction Prize and highly commended by the Caledonia Novel Award. She writes articles and reviews for HNS.