Shots in the Dark: New Historicism in History

When I took American history in eighth grade, my teacher split us into groups to teach us about the Boston Massacre.  She gave us each an eyewitness account, which she told us to read and discuss as a group. (Oh, the censorship of 18th century writing: “g-d damn it!”)  We went on our merry way for a few minutes, then she called on each group and asked the members to describe what happened on March 5, 1770. Each group had a different explanation for who started it, who reacted, and what exactly happened.  We students wondered how this could be, but not my teacher. She explained, “I gave each group a different account: some of you got the Patriots’ perspective, and some of you got the British soldiers’ perspective.” It was especially thought-provoking for me, who learned the colonists were the poor unfortunate victims and the Redcoats were the perpetrators, to read a report from one of the wicked Redcoats himself.  He described angry colonists yelling at him and cursing the soldiers out, not exactly the innocent and helpless victims of a massacre. Clever, Miss Fleming.  

I never forgot that lesson, and I wonder how history class would be different if everything was taught that way.  It would make a more cumbersome history class, but perhaps more enlightening and engaging.  Can we ever factor in and represent every possible perspective? I think not, though my perspective as a writer in the ongoing diversity push comes into play here.  With intersectionality, there are so many groups and perspectives that I don’t think it’s possible or at least practical to include every one. Further, not every historical event involves every group, and not every group is accessible to us now.  For instance, the Chinese weren’t very involved in the Boston Massacre, and we know of the existence of Amazon tribes who are still uncontacted. We won’t be hearing their perspective on World War II or the Watergate scandal.  

Miss Fleming’s method follows the New Historical ideas of interpretation and subjectivity.  If a class were to go by this system, some may ask, “Well, if it’s all subjective, how can students ever learn facts about history?”  Really, it’s not all subjective: dates, most locations, and names, for instance, are generally undisputable. But as Miss Fleming showed us, subjectivity isn’t just limited to who was right or wrong.  Psychology class shows us the unreliability and variability of eyewitness accounts, which is how most history is learned at the root. It’s very deconstructive, looking at it that way: a fractal of interpretations and meanings.  And like deconstruction, a more varied perspective can help remake our identity as Americans and people.  

DID the Butler Do It? A New Critical Look at Two Underrated Servants

[There is a spoiler for And Then There Were None in this pitch.  No, I don’t reveal the killer’s identity.  If you haven’t read it, you should!]

A person doesn’t need an English degree to see the exploration of the universal themes of justice and punishment in Agatha Christie’s 1939 novel And Then There Were None.  Interestingly, few scholarly articles exist on the novel.  There are arguments aplenty on if U. N. Owen is justified or even interested in justice when s/he murders ten people, each of whom is accused of getting away with murder.  But nearly all these readers’ opinions are based on the assumption that all ten people are guilty of murder, which drains the book of some ambiguity. In fact, only eight characters are confirmed guilty through thoughts, flashbacks, or confessions.  The two that aren’t also happen to be, some say, the most minor, whose thoughts are never revealed: Thomas and Ethel Rogers, the butler and cook. Christie has been criticized for her underdeveloped domestic worker characters such as these two. But a New Critical lens reveals the paradox that the most “minor” characters are actually the most important.  The Rogerses’ so-called underdevelopment makes them ripe for a range of interpretations, and their opaqueness is not classist ignorance on Christie’s part, but an unsolved mystery within a (solved) mystery. Because we know so little about them and we never hear their thoughts, we never know if they’re guilty or innocent. In fact, unlike every other character, there’s no conclusive evidence they committed the murder they’re accused of.  This adds a dose of ambiguity that severely disrupts, if not completely overthrows, U. N. Owen’s master plan for “justice.”  

Potential Source: 

Vurmay, M. Ayça.  “Detection or Endless Deferral/Absence in Detective Fiction: Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None.”  DCTF Dergisi, 57.2, 2017, pp. 1127-1150.