With Julian Barnes’ historical-fiction, “Arthur and George”, I find myself wondering how fictional historical-fiction can be. Throughout the novel George Edalji is often shown being passive and quieter than his titular counterpart Arthur Conan Doyle, who’s depicted as a loud man of honor, and a proud proprietor of “Chivalrous Acts Inc”. In the novel readers are often made aware of George’s loyalty and passion towards his Englishness, said loyalty coming from a man who is half Parsi thanks to his father. George’s father was instructional in George’s idea of Englishness, having him chant of the centrality of the British empire on occasion. Ol’ Shapurji Edalji didn’t mention much about his Parsi heritage though, only later in George’s adolescence does he even begin to make it plain that George is indeed “different”. The concept of different in this context is only relative to the imperial power of the time. In “Arthur and George” that imperial power is British and firmly English, but what does it mean to be English? Also, what does it mean to be black? While meeting to inquire on the backstory of George Edalji, Sergeant Parsons mentions that there were “people saying they didn’t want a black man (Shapurji) in the pulpit telling them what sinners they were” (George, 98, Kindle), and to quote Kendrick Lamar, “that word is only a color, it ain’t facts no more” (“Yah.”, 2017). An Indian man being referred to as black is interesting to me because it suggests that the term black is simply a label that is viewed as inferior to its fellow label, white. It also shows that the meaning of the term black, like many words over time, has changed. To this day we still refer to African-Americans as black and European-Americans as white. I still say that I’m black and that other people are white, the verbiage has become ingrained within our culture, which is surely not a revelation. I just think that it is worth mentioning because the two terms create a binary that then makes it easier for people to categorize others. In our efforts to understand the world and the people in it we often craft the easiest route to that understanding. So, back to my question, what does it mean to be English, an Englishman rather? As Barnes weaves within the narrative Arthur is not the entirely English fellow that he wishes for his sister to find herself, and yet he is hardly questioned about this. In his verbal duel with Anson, Arthur is the one who mentions his Scottish ancestry, not Anson. Meanwhile, George couldn’t walk home from school without someone questioning where he’s really from. I have no intention of answering what it means to be an Englishman because I don’t know, after all the rules don’t make sense. George was born in Britain, which should meet the criteria enough, not to mention that he’s proud of the laws of England too, the same laws that don’t abide by him. George, and his father for that matter, had even revoked his own Parsi-ness for the sake of living a quiet life as a solicitor. I don’t blame George for that last part, or for anything that happened to him. I blame Shapurji a little though. I can read Shapurji in a more sympathetic light and say that he was holding back on his ancestral knowledge for his son’s betterment. Maybe he thought that this would keep George focused on living the best life he could live. However, it would have been helpful, especially with Shapurji being born and raised(?) in India, if George would have been able to learn more about his background. This goes back to my wondering about how fictional historical-fiction could be. I don’t know if the real Shapurji Edalji ever talked to his son about his heritage, I don’t know if George Edalji ever declared that he wasn’t Parsi. Honestly, I will never know for sure. I feel like this post has been a long, swaying ramble, but in an attempt to tie this up sort of neatly, I will concede that some questions cannot be answered by yours truly. I am okay with that.. I guess? Works Cited Lamar, K. Damn. Top Dawg Entertainment, 2017. Barnes, J. Arthur and George. Alfred A. Knopf, 2006.
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