More Like the Real World: Representation in Historical Romance
WRITTEN BY MISTY URBAN
As a reader, I’m delighted and grateful to see that the genre of historical romance has finally begun to include characters who look more like the world I live in, and more like the world I know from my literary studies and author research. Though for many historical romance readers, Lizzie and Darcy are still the mold, we know from the work of dedicated and resourceful scholars that the historical record is full of individuals who weren’t white, cisgender, heterosexual, or physically abled. I’m thrilled, at long last, to see the romance shelves diversifying their casts and increasing their representation of marginalized groups, bringing us new and fresh stories of love that crosses boundaries and writes a happy-ever-after for those whose historical—or present—reality doesn’t get its fair share of joy.
An expanding color palette is one welcome development. Beverly Jenkins, the acknowledged Queen of Black historical romance, long reigned alone, but now she is gratifyingly joined by Alyssa Cole, Vanessa Riley, and Bridgerton, to name a few high-profile examples. Adriana Herrera and Liana De la Rosa (whose works have been reviewed here in the HNR) have introduced Latina heroines to 19th-century Britain, while Courtney Milan has leads of Asian descent, for instance in The Marquis Who Musn’t (independently published, 2023).
We know that queer people have existed since recorded history—the term sapphic romance honors the legendary lady-loving poetess—but now authors like Olivia Waite, Cat Sebastian, and Erica Ridley have made more space for ladies in love on our library shelves, while titles like A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall (Forever, 2022) remind us that trans people exist in history, too, fighting the same battles for love and a place in the world. Further, authors like Evie Dunmore write their neurodivergent characters a happy ending, while Emily Murdoch shows us that a main character’s physical limitations don’t impact their ability to love.
As an author of historical romance, I feel it is both an opportunity and a responsibility to represent the diversity of these past worlds in my fiction. In my Ladies Least Likely series and other forthcoming titles, I include characters who are little persons, are blind or deaf, or are physically impaired through injury or birth. The Earl of Renwick, a lead in The Painter Takes an Earl (Oliver Heber Books, 2024), has a clubfoot.
In Viscount Overboard (OHB, 2023), I included in Gwen’s little society of cast-offs a boy with what would now be diagnosed as Down syndrome (our modern world didn’t create neurodivergence; it merely has more labels.) And if you look closely, there are always queer romances blooming beneath the lead love story in my books.
But given how much oppression and discrimination is also a part of the historical record, how do romance authors convey historical authenticity while creating narratives palatable to modern sensibilities? I turned to authors I admire to find out how they strike this balance and how they developed their more unconventional characters.
In Lady Asilia’s Gamble (independently published, 2024), Mihwa Lee creates a fiery heroine who is dedicated to preserving the legacy of her adored grandmother, a regal Black woman who married into the British aristocracy. Living in Africa after a shattering scandal drove her from England, Asilia knows what it is to fight against people’s perceptions of her. When I asked Lee about how she developed Asilia, she brought up a real-life example of an African-born woman moving in the highest circles of English society: Sarah Forbes Bonetta, who became a goddaughter to Queen Victoria. (Our review of Denny S. Bryce’s The Other Princess [William Morrow, 2023] appeared in HNR 106).
Admitting she set out to “create a fictional character who could transcend the boundaries of race,” Lee deliberately made Asilia “a woman who fearlessly molds the world to her desires rather than conforming to societal expectations.” “When crafting historical fiction,” Lee told me, “authors must strike a delicate balance between adhering to historical accuracy and allowing room for creative freedom.” Lee grappled with how vividly she wanted to depict the cruelties of slavery and racism, but admits, “I chose to omit these harsh realities of the era, as they did not serve the romantic narrative I sought to tell.”
Erica Ridley includes two Black leads in her dashing Regency romp Nobody’s Princess (Forever, 2022; reviewed in HNR 101), which brings together Graham, ringleader of the wildly unconventional Wynchester family, and Kunigunde, who has spent her life training to become an elite Royal Guard for the princess of her country. In our conversation, Ridley pointed out what so many Regency romances overlook: Black people have lived in Britain for centuries, and there was in fact a large Black population in London during the Regency. As she is Black herself, Ridley admits, “I have long yearned to see someone like me reflected in Regency romance.”
Faced with the historical realities that confronted Lee, Ridley invented a new European country, Balcovia, for Kuni’s homeland. In our conversation, she explained, “While the topic of race and racism is present in the novel, I did not want this particular story to focus on Black pain. I invented Balcovia to serve as a counterpart to Britain. Sort of a what-if nation. What if, instead of colonizing and enslaving, a country in that time period believed and practiced full equality?” Kuni experiences culture shock in London due to the rigid social classes more than anything, but Graham, who is of mixed heritage, offers her understanding as well as his protection.
Earlier in the Wild Wynchesters series, Ridley, a New York Times bestselling author, paired clever, unconventional Thomasina Wynchester with equally clever bluestocking Phillipa York in The Perks of Loving a Wallflower (Forever, 2021). When I asked Ridley about writing a sapphic romance, she pointed again to the historical record: “There are many examples of historic sapphic couples in this time period, some living openly—the Ladies of Llangollen, for example.” But in shaping the history for modern readers, she notes: “One important difference is that the Regency did not have vocabulary like demisexual or trans, as we do today. Modern readers are more likely to pick up clues and understand context that might have been misinterpreted back then.”
The Wynchesters are a family that cheerfully embraces neurodivergence, so I asked Ridley about that choice. Ridley noted that, “Although often invisible, neurodivergence is such a big part of many people’s lives,” including herself as well as family, and friends. “While Regency society certainly wasn’t as considerate as now—and we still have far to go!” Ridley shared, “I believe in finding your people, whether that means biological or found family.” Creating the Wynchesters was in part a declaration: “I very passionately believe everyone has an equal right to be the hero, and to be loved,” Ridley wrote.
I turned to USA Today bestselling author Emily Murdoch, author of sweet and steamy historical romances, to discuss how she negotiated her portrayal of Sapphire, the heroine of The Convenient Engagement (Dragonblade, 2022), who is born with a limb difference. Murdoch was motivated by awareness that “readers of all backgrounds and experiences want to see characters like themselves on the page,” but because she has not experienced limb difference for herself, she was extra careful about her research and portrayal. She notes that Sapphire, “like so many people I know with physical disabilities, is living an entirely normal life as far as she is concerned.” Though Sapphire encounters prejudice in the outside world, Murdoch admits, “That was a real struggle to write, because hatred or fear are never pleasant topics.”
She faced a slightly different scenario in writing Joseph, the hero of Put Your Best Duke Forward (Dragonblade, 2023), who lost a leg in a war injury. There, Murdoch says, “Joseph had to face his trauma from being in a war, as well as re-learning so many things that he took for granted: walking, running, riding a horse.”
In striking a balance between being representing the historical period but also delivering what modern romance readers expect (or hope) to read, Murdoch admits, “it was a really delicate balance to weave.” Some of the language used, then and now, is downright offensive, so, “I had to decide just how rude people were going to be around my characters.”
When I asked these authors about these new directions in historical fiction, they all gave thoughtful answers to the question of how to balance sensitive representation with historical fact. Murdoch wants to give more readers a chance to see themselves, but she also realizes her readers come to her novels for “joy and wit and love,” so she wants the darkness in her stories to be overcome by the light.
As Lee put it, “Historical fiction often requires a suspension of reality to some degree, in order to create engaging and accessible narratives for modern readers.” But, she adds, authors have the power to introduce readers to the realities as well; “through the eyes of characters who may be considered outsiders, readers can gain new insights into the customs, beliefs, and power structures of the time period, and can better understand the ways in which these factors impact individuals and relationships.” Still, Lee admits she wanted to “create a narrative that respected the historical context while prioritizing the development of the characters and their romantic journey.”
While I personally cheer when I see more inclusive representation, Ridley has experienced mixed reactions to her unconventional leads. However, she notes, “It is especially affirming when readers come up to me at signings and tell me my book was the first time they saw themselves represented in this kind of story. I’m delighted there are now so many talented authors whose fabulous books center neurodiverse, differently abled, queer and/or non-white characters. I would love to see diversity in historical romance become the norm.”
Me, too.
About the contributor: Misty Urban is an HNR reviews editor, medieval scholar, professor, and author of literary short fiction, women’s fiction, and historical romance. The romances in her Ladies Least Likely series feature diverse casts finding love and adventure in late Georgian England.
Published in Historical Novels Review | Issue 108 (May 2024)
