Tides of War: A Novel of the Peninsular War

Historical fiction is no replacement for history. Nor is it history ‘lite’. It is fiction based on a recognisable past. It may be well researched, it may be based on fact and real people, but it is still fiction. Stella Tillyard is the most recent historian to try her hand at this genre and we can expect a few more debuts of this nature before the year is out. The acclaimed author of Aristocrats and Citizen Lord has described with beguiling honesty the struggles experienced by the first-time historical fiction writer in her article for History Today (May 2011). The resulting book, Tides of War, is set within the period of the Regency and the Peninsular War and is thus the latest addition to a long library shelf that groans under the weight of some illustrious and venerated tomes. The interlocking narratives encompass such disparate subjects as the introduction of gas lighting to London’s streets, the banking shenanigans of Nathan Rothschild and, of course, Wellington’s military campaign in Spain.

Crucially, what really separates historical fiction from history is a liberty to bend or perhaps even disregard fact or ‘truth’ in pursuit of imaginatively fleshed-out characters (real and invented) and a rollicking, well-paced plot. Tides of War is a well written, engaging read but it is a different book from the one described on the inside jacket cover, which blasts the hapless browser with a cannonade of hyperbole: ‘sweeping’, ‘panoramic’, ‘plunge’, ‘drenched’. Despite the obvious cinemascope potential in the locations, historical events and cast, Tides of War is not quite sweeping or panoramic enough to match this shouty preamble. It is a more restrained and thoughtful book than that. There are highly memorable moments that reveal an author really getting into her creative stride: a battlefield blood transfusion; a gang rape conveyed with economy but no less visceral and deeply disturbing for that. The response of a seasoned general’s wife to the death of her husband is beautifully observed.

There are some attractive characters too: the marriage-weary Kitty, Lady Wellington, for example, and the affable Robert Heaton, who may well become a firm favourite with all the female readers and possibly the male ones as well. Arguably the one lead character the reader needs to fall in love with is Harriet Raven. The novel opens with Harriet (or Harry), an ‘unconventional’, well to do, slip-of-a-lass, recreating one of her deceased father’s scientific experiments. Despite the existence of her new husband James, an army officer heading for Spain, Harriet seems to have a sex appeal that the other male characters cannot resist – including the inventor of gas lighting and the army surgeon friend of her husband. Some readers, however, may remain immune to her charms.

Nearing the end, as the narrative moves towards the magical year 1815, you might be forgiven for thinking there is not much space left and book two is in sight (chapter one: Napoleon leaves Elba, and we’re on our way to Waterloo). But in fact Napoleon escapes, Waterloo is done and dusted and a lead character is killed off, all in what feels like three paragraphs. Admittedly the book is ‘a novel of the Peninsular War’ but even so this did feel a little hurried. However Tides of War concludes in such a disarmingly artful way that all quibbles were forgotten. And the readers who haven’t fallen for the heroine thus far might resolve to be less chippy about poor Harriet should she happen to appear in the promised sequel. In short, if you like your silk empire-line frock with the occasional red-flash of Andalusian gypsy underskirt, then you should definitely try this on for size.

Jacqueline Riding's book on the '45 Rebellion is due to be published by Bloomsbury in 2013.