Using Anachronisms in Historical Fiction

No historical novel is perfectly accurate, and none can be: you write for today's readers, in today's language. The useful distinction is between careless anachronisms, which are errors you should hunt down, and deliberate ones, which are choices you make for clarity, rhythm or emotional truth. What makes a deliberate anachronism acceptable is an honest contract with the reader, set from the first pages and kept until the last.

Purists will tell you that a novel set in 1342 should not contain a single word that did not exist in 1342. Follow that rule and you write an unreadable book, because nobody thinks in fourteenth-century French or Middle English. Historical fiction lives in a state of permanent translation. The question is not whether you translate, but how, and how openly.

Careless or deliberate

There are two kinds of anachronism. The first kind is an error: your medieval character eats potatoes, although potatoes only reached Europe from the Americas in the second half of the sixteenth century. That is carelessness, and informed readers stop trusting you. Errors like this cluster around food, clothing, technology, units of time, forms of address and everyday objects.

The second kind is a choice: a sentence that sounds slightly modern because it serves the scene better than a pastiche would, a conversation compressed so that it reads naturally, an attitude made legible to a modern reader. If you own the choice, it can work well. If you slip it in and hope nobody notices, it will feel like a cheat.

Even famous authors leave errors. In Julius Caesar, Shakespeare has a clock strike three in ancient Rome ("The clock hath stricken three"), centuries before mechanical striking clocks existed. Audiences have forgiven him for four hundred years, but it is a good reminder that the details you never think to check are the ones that slip through.

The language question

Language is where most deliberate anachronism happens, and it is unavoidable. A few practical guidelines help.

Avoid words that carry a strong modern flavour or a recent origin. "Okay", for example, is first recorded in the United States in 1839, and it jolts any scene set earlier. Words tied to modern technology or psychology ("on autopilot", "trauma" in its modern sense, "teenager") have the same effect.

Do not overcorrect with fake archaism. Strings of "thee" and "forsooth" slow the reader down without making the period more real. A clean, slightly formal modern English, with period vocabulary for objects, titles and institutions, usually gives the best illusion.

Keep the register consistent. If your characters speak plainly in chapter one, do not switch them into theatrical archaism in chapter ten.

Bending history for emotional truth

A novel's goal is not accuracy. It is to make an emotional truth come alive. Compressing two decades into two years, moving a battle by fifty kilometres, merging three minor historical figures into one character: these are common and legitimate choices. Make them, but know what you gain and what you pay.

Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall (2009) is the classic example. Written in a close third person that stays inside Thomas Cromwell's head, it gives him thoughts and feelings no archive can confirm. Readers and critics accepted that freedom because of what it gained: intimacy with a man history had mostly painted from the outside. Wolf Hall and its sequel, Bring Up the Bodies (2012), both won the Booker Prize.

If you change something significant, many historical novelists add a short author's note at the end, explaining what they invented, moved or compressed. It costs a page and buys a great deal of trust.

The contract with the reader

What matters is the implicit contract you make. "Rigorous historical novel" means the reader expects rigour. "Inspired by", "a variation on", "a reverie around" gives you much more room. Set the contract early, through tone, through the cover copy and the opening pages, and do not break it later without warning.

A practical method: before revising, list the five or six facts your story depends on (dates, places, real people, technologies) and verify each one against a reliable source. Then list the liberties you are taking on purpose, and decide which ones deserve a note. Everything else can be checked during revision, with a particular eye on food, clothing, objects and words. The same care applies when your story involves real people; writing about real people covers the ethical and legal side.

Never apologise for a deliberate anachronism. Always fix a careless one. Readers can feel the difference from the first page.

To keep dates, places and historical facts straight across a long draft, see keep track of characters, places and timeline. For the setting itself, how to describe a setting helps make a period place tangible, and novel geography covers distances, climate and economy.

Frequently asked questions

Is it acceptable to use anachronisms in historical fiction? Yes, when they are deliberate and serve the story, for example modern language that keeps dialogue readable. Careless errors about objects, food or technology are another matter: they break the reader's trust and should be corrected.

How do I spot anachronisms in my manuscript? Check the areas where errors cluster: food, clothing, technology, units of time, forms of address and vocabulary. Look up the first recorded use of any word that feels modern, and verify the key facts your plot depends on against reliable sources.

Should historical dialogue sound old-fashioned? Usually not too much. A clear, slightly formal modern language with period vocabulary for objects and titles tends to read better than heavy archaism, which can feel like costume. Consistency matters more than authenticity of every word.

Should I add an author's note about historical liberties? It is a common and appreciated practice when you have changed significant facts, such as dates, locations or real people's actions. A short note at the end explains your choices without interrupting the story.

How much research do I need before writing a historical novel? Enough to know the period's daily life, institutions and key events around your story. Many writers research the essentials first, draft, then verify specific details during revision, rather than researching everything before writing a line.

In Sagoræ, the Archivist checks each chapter against your profiles for dates, places and physical details, so your historical facts stay consistent from first chapter to last.