LISA HILTON

Author Interview

Alexander Larman meets the author of several books about femmes fatales, to find out how she deals with reviewers identifying her with her subjects

The historian and novelist Lisa Hilton should be best known for writing a variety of excellent, beautifully written and often very funny books, which have ranged from a definitive biography of Elizabeth I to her recent, highly subversive trilogy of Maestra novels, dealing with the Ripley-esque exploits of their protagonist Judith Rashleigh. Yet, unfortunately, British critics and interviewers have repeatedly attempted to link Hilton herself with many of the femmes fatales that she writes about so elegantly and wittily. Perhaps as a riposte to their narrow-mindedness, her latest book, a short, elegant monograph called Sex and the City of Ladies, deals with the way in which history has largely been told from a male perspective, and attempts to redress the balance by bringing to life three notorious women from history: Cleopatra, Lucrezia Borgia and Catherine the Great.

Hilton has often bemoaned the way in which interviewers have attempted to discuss her private life rather than her work, but here at The Chap we have no such prurient impulses.

We instead sat down with The Talented Ms Hilton to discuss questions of identity, being misunderstood and objectified and the sartorial faux pas that still keeps her awake at night.

“I was mystified by the raised eyebrows. Maestra was described as a ‘shocking’ book, but compared with some of the historical goings-on I had already written about, it felt positively tame. Maestra was realistic, as far as I was concerned; I wondered whether the pearl-clutchers actually know what’s going on online”

CHAP: As a leading historian yourself, do you believe that the institution is a fundamentally misogynistic one?

HILTON: While it’s undoubtedly the case that much history has been, and is still, written from a male perspective, the book makes a slightly different argument: that dissolving the categories of ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ might be a more useful way of considering the past. I don’t think that most contemporary historians are misogynistic, rather that an emphasis on gender (even with the best of intentions), doesn’t necessarily serve particular historical figures effectively.

CHAP: You focus on three disparate women, Cleopatra, Lucrezia Borgia and Catherine the Great, all of whom have historical reputations of being ‘bad’. What gave you the initial idea of challenging that lazy shorthand?

HILTON: The book was a commission from the TLS, with the brief ‘wicked women’. I was interested in the dynamics which produced their reputations, and in replacing the ‘bad’ label with a more measured consideration of what made them exceptional.

CHAP: At less than 100 pages, the book is short and very concise. What were the challenges that you faced of writing at that kind of length?

HILTON: The book is on no way meant to be a comprehensive history, more an essay on the way we write history itself. I would have loved to have had more space to really go into the different women’s stories but that would take years!

CHAP: It’s your first non-fiction title since 2014’s Elizabeth: Renaissance Prince. In the interim, you’ve written four novels. Do you find moving between fiction and nonfiction straightforward or challenging, and what are the separate (and complementary) skills that both require?

HILTON: I love doing both fiction and non-fiction, but I can never decide which I prefer. Essentially, the two genres have more in common than one might think – it’s all about taking the reader with you, whether your characters are real or invented.

CHAP: You’ve explored the lives of real and fictitious women throughout your writing, whether it’s Judith Rashleigh in your Maestra trilogy, Elizabeth I, Nancy Mitford or Lavinia Fenton. What have been the consistent elements that you’ve found within them?

HILTON: Power, jokes, frocks.

CHAP: Eyebrows were raised when you published your book Maestra, which seemed a dramatic change of approach from your previous work. Did you expect such a reaction?

HILTON: I was mystified by the raised eyebrows. Maestra was described as a ‘shocking’ book, but compared with some of the historical goings-on I had already written about, it felt positively tame. Maestra was realistic, as far as I was concerned; I wondered whether the pearl-clutchers actually know what’s going on online.

CHAP: You chose to use the pseudonym LS Hilton for the trilogy. Was there a particular reason why?

HILTON: I wanted Maestra to feel more neutral and also to separate the history from the novels.

CHAP: You have previously complained that British journalists and critics have been less interested in talking about your books than in exploring any perceived autobiographical elements to be found in them. Given that EL James, for instance, has not faced such scrutiny, where do you think that this prurience stems from?

HILTON: I think EL James was a lot smarter than me. Unfortunately, women are still expected to write about their personal lives (the more salacious or traumatic the better), when publicising their books. No-one asks Ian Rankin to talk about his relationships or mental health. But when you have the pressure of a huge publishing machine behind you, it can be difficult to say no to the prurience, because if you do, you won’t get the cover or the interview your publicist is pushing for.

CHAP: You wrote the libretto of the opera Love Hurts in 2016. What were the challenges that you faced with being a librettist, and is it something that you wish to explore again?

HILTON: The brevity of a libretto is fascinatingly different from longer forms, and, obviously, the demands of a score. It was a fantastic experience and I’d love to try it again.

CHAP: You live in Venice, and studied history of art in Europe. Do you think of yourself as British, European, neither or both?

HILTON: I was born a European, and I am proud of that identity. Brexit appals me. My daughter is Italian, her father lives in France – the idea that national boundaries are as constrictingly narrow as they may have been in the past is absurd as well as destructive. That said, I do miss HP sauce…

CHAP: What are your favourite things about your Venetian life?

HILTON: The sense of joy and privilege I feel every single time I step out of my front door into this magically beautiful city. The extraordinarily rich and cosmopolitan cultural life, and the fact that it’s on the beach.

CHAP: Throughout your career, you’ve combined writing books with journalism.

Do you think that this is a requirement for any contemporary writer, both on a purely financial level and to raise one’s profile?

HILTON: I find imminent bankruptcy a great motivator. Books and TV pay slowly and badly, journalism keeps things ticking over.

CHAP: Who are your greatest influences?

HILTON: My favourite writer is Evelyn Waugh, though I would never presume to describe him as an influence.

CHAP: Which contemporary writers do you most admire?

HILTON: Susanna Clarke, Michel Houellebecq for fiction. I was hugely impressed with Hallie Rubenhold’s The Five – it did something so original and necessary with history. And I die for Marina Hyde.

CHAP: What are your plans for future books?

HILTON: I’m working on a new novel and have plans for a history, back in the eighteenth century, which is maybe the period I like best.

CHAP: What, to date, are you proudest of in your career?

HILTON: This book. Maybe not for the work itself but for the fact that the TLS commissioned it.

CHAP: As this is a Chap interview, it would be remiss not to touch on matters sartorial. What is your preferred ensemble and who are your favourite designers?

HILTON: At the moment I lust after a bespoke Huntsman suit and a Cartier panther bracelet. My all-time favourite outfit is ancient dungarees, a bikini and a Panama hat. I went through a bit of a designer phase, but I’m more interested in quality than labels now.

CHAP: And have you made any fashion faux pas in the past that you are especially ashamed of?

HILTON: Oh God. A lilac silk Joseph Conran swing coat that I wore to a Vogue lunch. Why? I looked like the Queen Mother. It still keeps me awake at night.

CHAP: How would you like to be remembered?

HILTON: As someone who was kind. n