This week, we finally managed to install our new (not new ) item of furniture - a mid-18th Century grandfather clock. It's not bright and shiny like more modern ones, but a dark oak with a warm patina which the beeswax polish is drawing out. In order to set it up, we had to do a certain amount of research - how to hang the pendulum, where the weight went on the endless chain - and it got me thinking... where and when did certain divisions of time come from? The time periods which I have written either had household clocks or didn't, I have not written novels from the time of their invention. Clocks have been around for a long time, and the obsession with measuring time in an ordered fashion dates back to at least the ancient Sumerians. It was they who established a circular reading of time and, I imagine, the sixty seconds/minutes came about as much because it was an easy way to divide a circle as anything else. But it wasn't until much later that the precision of seconds ...
Historical fiction is not a new idea, and the nineteenth century teemed with it. Literary giants like Walter Scott, Charles Kingsley and Robert Louis Stevenson all delved into the realms of the past to set their adventures, many of their stories recalling the bygone idealism of chivalry which was deemed as sorely missing from their own times. The restructuring of the class system, as the industrial revolution grew, created a certain amount of nostalgia and, from this, grew a renewed readership for the past.
This wasn't just happening in Britain and, in the spring of 1844, Alexandre Dumas serialised what was to become one of the best known stories in the world: "Les Trois Mousquetaires" or "The Three Musketeers". This remains a title thousands of people recognise, but only a fraction of them have read.
The Three Musketeers - yes, I read it in English because my French is limited to saying hello and goodbye - is my favourite book and I keep hoping to find a film which actually lives up to it. But I have finally come to accept that part of what I love the most about the book is the narrative and the shrewd observations made in the narrator's passing comments. It's witty, light-hearted, adventurous and fun, but it also features storylines which are dark and, in some cases, vindictively evil.
With spies and devious actions from both the politically-minded Cardinal Richelieu and the loyal musketeers, both sides are vying to out-do the other in wit and cunning. But, as in all good plots, nothing is black and white and, while modern interpretations have made the cardinal into the "bad guy", he is only persevering to protect what he deems important.
The final portion of the book is the part which elevates it far and away above most of its movie counterparts. If you're looking for a happy ending, be prepared for it to be tinged with sadness. The conclusion to this book is brilliantly real, with strong emotions, love, heartbreak and remorse all playing their part.
Overall, read this book! On the surface it is a fantastic swashbuckling adventure, but you can also delve deeper into the political undercurrents which run through every storyline in the book - and, yes, there are a good many of those!
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