Reality Bites

Russian novelist Vladimir Nabokov said that literature does not tell the truth, it makes it up. Obvious perhaps but important to remember when writing narratives based on ‘real’ events. I’m writing a series at present set around AD 60 at the time of the Roman occupation of Britain. That outline would seem to place the stories firmly in the realm of historical fiction but I don’t want to produce just a run-of-the-mill toga-and-sandal adventure, so my characters speak in a deliberately modern idiom.
I mention this because yesterday’s post about art reminded me of a project I’ve had on the back-burner for years- that of Munch’s The Scream. I have parts of it written but the problem I have is the same with any biographical narrative of a lengthy/interesting life. How can you condense reality into a fictional form? Very few auto/biographies or bio-pics do this well, it seems to me. Narrative interest is a hostage to imperical fact- what parts of a life do you dramatise & what do you leave out? The problem is an old one but very much still with us. In my Keith Ramsbottom series it is only a small part of the project because my avowed attempt is humour, not serious non-fiction. When I get round to finishing Munch’s story, it might not be quite so funny. I have a similar issue with another passion of mine- the life & works of Leni Riefenstahl. Something tells me that’s not going to work in a tone of flippant humour either.