There is something about reading a book that has familiar landmarks. Not even necessarily places that you’ve actually been to (though being able to actually visualize where you are in the book is fun), but places that you’re actively interested in, time periods you’ve spent scads of time researching.
I’m currently reading The Lace Reader by Brunonia Barry, and while I love my ability to mentally follow Towner down Derby Street, up Hawthorne past the hotel and up to the Common, well… It reminded me of yet another book where it wasn’t quite the same, but the feeling was similar.
I have never been to India, but I was reading The Splendor of Silence by Indu Sundaresan while taking an undergraduate course entitled “History of Modern India, 1750 to the Present”. The majority of the book takes place in Rudrakot in 1942, a period of Indian history that we were actively studying in class. While I loved the book, part of that interest was definitely due to the fact that I was also studying it. The book was bringing to life my studies in a way that just looking at the textbook for the class could not. It also gave me a chance to fully understand Rudrakot of that period – because I understood the story itself was fiction, I was able to distinguish between what I knew and what was adjusted to make the story work.
This is not the first time (nor will it be the last) where I have come at history from this angle. My initial interest in history has always been provoked by historical fiction. It also got me thinking though. I come at fiction as if it is a puzzle to be solved. Part of this may be my longtime love of mysteries. I also come at it wanting to know the people and what makes them tick. Between these two, I have never lost interest in a book that makes me think just the right amount.