Review: The Nonfiction Narrative Account, St. Helena - The Most Significant Woman in Human History: From Tavern Maid to Saint: the Woman Who Found the True Cross and Changed the Faith of Civilization…

When I told my friend, Francine Roche Kay, that I was reading St. Helena - The Most Significant Woman in Human History: From Tavern Maid to Saint: the Woman Who Found the True Cross and Changed the Faith of Civilization, she was excited and said that it sounded right up her alley. 

Then I told her it was narrative nonfiction and gave examples of dialogue from the book. Her mind duly changed. 

This genre deserves a definition. Also referred to as creative or literary nonfiction, narrative nonfiction narrates factual, well-researched stories by employing the literary methods found in fiction. I gather it’s used often. Linguistic anachronisms, presentism, and modern-day viewpoints prevail. 

Here’s an example. During an early conversation with Helena and Constantius Chlorus, whom she would soon marry, she mentioned that the general’s “sales pitch” needed work. Sales pitch. In the 3rd Century Drepanum, a Roman city, modern-day Hersek, Turkey.

Sales pitch. And that it needed work. If this isn’t a current idea/idiom, then I don’t know what is. 

I understand why Francine balked at this book, at least I think I do. She believes that historical accounts should be in, or as close to, the original language of the era, not some modern, sanitized, easy-enough-for-a-fifth-grader voice, all modern idioms and idiosyncrasies included.

I recall reading Shakespeare back in high school; it was his original text, or damned-near close to it. Years later, when I started teaching, I noticed that published-for-high-school Shakespeare’s plays had a new, updated version for students: ones with parallel pages of text. On the left-hand page was the original Shakespearean text; on the right-hand page, there was updated—read, sanitized, dumbed-down—text, a modern interpretation with modern words. It was as if The Bard’s original language had become far too hard for high schoolers. Either that or educators became lazy, which, believe me, is a thing. 

And I wholeheartedly agree with Francine, and I was almost—almost—going to pan this book outright. 

But this book, this nonfiction narrative, by Steve Castlen, has many good things going for it. 

One is that, when looking at the “Notes to (his) Grandkids” that concludes every chapter, he not only summarizes the contexts within said chapter, but provides modern-day analogies and concepts to truly drive the point home for those who would have issues reading the original Latin, Greek, or Aramaic that folks during the 3rd Century Roman Empire spoke. And I cannot fault him for this; I do the exact same thing when I teach my students: I make unpalatable content palatable, if not engaging and enjoyable. 

He also, utilizing fiction tropes, humanizes Helena, Constantius, and their son, Constantine—who would later be Constantine the Great—to such an appealing extent that the modernisms become swallowable. 

In the end, I did not hate this book. And here’s why: I learned about two important figures in history to such an extent that I want to read more about them (a book about Constantine the Great was added to my TBR List). 

If you can get past the fictional tropes, the modernism of the dialogue, and other anachronisms, I recommend that you read this book. You might enjoy it as well.