IN LOVE AND IN WAR: WOMEN AS THE KEEPERS AND CARRIERS OF MEMORY IN CONTEMPORARY, WAR-BASED HISTORICAL FICTION by Angela Carmela Uy Fantone A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of MASTER OF ARTS IN ENGLISH WEBER STATE UNIVERSITY Ogden, Utah December 2, 2024 Approved Dr. Michael Wutz Name of Committee Chair Dr. Rebekah Cumpsty Name of Committee Member Dr. David Hartwig Name of Committee Member Fantone 1 Introduction Many historical accounts of World War II, whether fiction or nonfiction, offer the male perspective of the era. These are often the stories of soldiers and veterans who fought and sacrificed on the battlefield. Male-written, and more often than not, Eurocentric war literature has often been the dominant perspective of World War II offered to modern readers. But there has been a rise in the popularity of women-written and women-centered historical fiction over the decades, including World War II-based historical novels. These works offer different perspectives of World War II and its effects on society and shed light on the roles women had to play during this time. While men fought battles in trenches of mud and dirt, women often fought battles in the trenches of home. Both men and women who experience war keep memories of it, but they do so in different ways. Thus, historical war novels that are written by women and feature women as the main characters and/or narrators tend to shine light on a unique role that women play during wartime: as the keepers and carriers of memory, particularly family and individual memory. To better understand how women play the role of memory keepers and carriers and why this role is significant, this thesis will examine three war-based, historical fiction novels published within the last 40 years: When the Rainbow Goddess Wept by Cecilia Manguerra-Brainard (originally published in 1991), Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys (published in 2011), and The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (published in 2015). All three novels are written by women and feature women of different ages and ethnicities as main characters and/or narrators, and focus on World War II but in different parts of the world. By examining how the protagonists/narrators of these novels keep and carry memory, one can observe what sets women’s historical fiction, and especially women’s war literature, apart, Fantone 2 both from a narratological and from a memory perspective. What these three contemporary historical fictions achieve is that, from a distance of roughly two generations based on when they were published, they show how each female protagonist/narrator materializes personal and family memories intimately and domestically in the midst of war and carry them in ways that preserve cultural memory and knowledge. This also correlates to how women-written historical fiction novels are produced and function as literary texts: by portraying smaller, more intimate memories in conjunction with larger historical events, materializing those specific memories, and shaping how readers perceive the past. Working with historical fiction as a genre requires an understanding of memory and the role of literature in transmitting and archiving memory. Memory studies and literature have many interdisciplinary connections, which are essential in the examination of what could be considered memory-based genres— including historical fiction. These interdisciplinary connections can focus both on how literature archives and carries memory through content and through narrative structure. One of the pressing challenges memory studies faces is defining what memory is in the first place, simply because there is no single, concrete, agreed upon definition of memory (A. Brown 119). Some would describe memory physiologically through the synapses firing in the brain as recollection occurs, while others would view memory from a more historical lens and look at the way historical events are memorialized. Andy Warburg’s definition of memory seems to be the most applicable to the intersection of literature and memory, in that memory is “a process of reconstruction which can be considered a social act, thus laying the ground for a social psychology of memory and a cultural context of remembering” (Martin 4). As such, Fantone 3 memory is best described as a reconstruction of the past (Freeman 263). Memory, in that sense, is a means of reconstructing the past, and writing is a form of mediating those reconstructions. Writing is one of humankind’s oldest methods of recording and storing knowledge. As such, literature can also function as “a medium of remembrance” and as “a medium for the production of cultural memory” (Erll and Rigney 112). It can be a form of remembering the past, especially in genres that are historical or memorial in nature. The writing and publication of such literature and genres are the means of not only spreading cultural memory regarding certain eras of history, but also the means of shaping current perceptions of the cultural memory and knowledge regarding those events. The study of women-written and women-centered historical fiction is one that deserves more scholarly attention. Blending memory studies and literature allows for further analysis regarding representations of historical events and how narratives reflect what is meant to be recalled. BACKGROUND OF THE NOVELS Most contemporary historical fiction about World War II tends to be set in France, Germany, and some German occupied areas, particularly those that focus on the Holocaust. It is important to acknowledge the tragedies of the Holocaust and the ravages of war in those areas, and it is also important to look at how World War II affected other parts of the globe. As aforementioned, the three novels chosen for this thesis are written by female authors and feature female main characters/narrators of different age ranges and ethnicities. They are all set during World War II but in different parts of the world. The criteria these novels fall under allow for a multifaceted analysis of women’s literature and historical fiction. They also show different Fantone 4 perspectives of World War II, which allow for further analysis on how these characters archive and materialize memory and cultural knowledge. Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys tells the story of 15 year-old Lina Vilkas from Lithuania who dreams of becoming an artist. But those dreams are cut short when the Soviet military occupies the Baltic regions, separates her father from the rest of the family, and takes her, her mother Elena, and her younger brother Jonas, to a work camp with many others. She makes sense of the horrors she witnesses through drawing pictures of the places she is sent to and the things she sees in the hopes that she can reach out to her father again. As she draws in secret, her art also becomes a lifeline that makes her determined to survive and keep the people she loves alive, and functions as a means of recording her experiences. The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah follows two sisters who are separated by time and the ravages of war but united through love. When the Nazis occupied France in 1939, the younger sister, Isabelle Rosignol, then aged 18, joined an undercover resistance group that smuggled Allied soldiers to Spain. By contrast, the older sister, Vianne Mauriac, then aged 21, is trying to keep her community together and keep her daughter safe amidst the arrival of Nazi soldiers while her husband is off fighting with the Allied Forces. The two sisters have opposing ideas of how to cope with the war, and thus take action in different ways. But Vianne, in particular, ensures that her younger sister’s sacrifices are not forgotten. When the Rainbow Goddess Wept by Cecilia Manguerra-Brainard looks at the Japanese occupation of the Philippines through the eyes of young Yvonne Macaraig. Only nine years old at the time the novel begins, Yvonne’s peaceful life in the city of Ubec (a palindrome for Cebu, a well-known island in the south of the Philippines) is torn apart when the Japanese take over and she and her family are forced to move into the countryside. Her father’s participation in the Fantone 5 guerilla movement only exacerbates the danger they are placed in. Amidst the ravages of the war, Yvonne holds tightly to the myths and folktales told to her by a woman named Laydan and finds comfort and a sense of home in them. These three novels highlight different wartime experiences for their main characters, from being sent away to a labor camp to running away to the countryside and witnessing guerilla warfare to staying home in an occupied town to joining underground resistance movements. But these main characters are keepers and carriers of memory because they keep, find, and even create physical markers or artifacts of memory, and tell stories of their lives and families from before, during, and after the war. The main characters of each novel who take on the role of memory keeper are often those who experience war from the civilian or refugee perspective, not the militant and soldier perspective. It is these experiences of war that make the archiving and transmitting of memory all the more unique. MEMORY IN NARRATIVE History is told by those privileged enough to tell the tale and keep it at the center. It is important to consider the fact that most technologies of cultural memory do the work of memorializing the experiences of those within the domain of men. Thus, history is often presented through the masculine point of view. This includes historical fiction. World War II has given rise to a lot of war-based historical fiction novels, which is a subgenre of historical fiction. This is also considered a very masculine genre, since fighting war was primarily done by men. These male-centered historical fiction war novels often depict the stories of soldiers and veterans who were active participants in combat and highlight the trauma of the violence they experienced. Fantone 6 Margaret Higonnet asks a crucial question in her research: Do women write war novels? To consider the war novel solely the domain of a man’s narrative is to create a distinction between “homefront” and “battlefront.” This simplistic distinction becomes problematic because, “To oppose the ‘battlefront’ to the ‘home front’ erases our knowledge that where the front is, there often are also homes and women” (145). Women’s war novels acknowledge that women have also experienced the ravages of war and have also participated in the fight to restore peace in many ways. There were women who stayed home and kept their communities together in the absence of the majority of the men. There were women who actively participated in war efforts (either through fighting, joining resistance movements, working as a nurse or aide, etc…). There were women who fought for survival as refugees. Regardless of the various experiences of women during wartime, the one thing that is certain is that women, no less than men or soldiers, keep and carry memory in many ways. Through looking at how women keep memory and cultural knowledge alive, this thesis aims to highlight how contemporary women’s historical fiction shows how the “home front” is also every bit a “battlefront,” particularly when the texts focus on the wartime experiences of civilian women and women who became refugees. Therefore, women do write war novels. They reveal the participation of women during wartime, both side by side with the men in the trenches, and of course, on the homefront fighting the battles that threaten them there. When women’s war literature focuses on the experiences of women in the homefront and even the battlefront, more intimate personal and family stories are highlighted. They also acknowledge the labor that women do in order to keep society moving forward, especially when these women remain in the homefront or are forcibly pulled away from it. Such labor is often domestic in nature and caters to the needs of the immediate or extended family and even the community. Fantone 7 The study of historical fiction requires one to look at the text both historically and narratively. Historical fiction is a genre of two identity aspects (history and fiction). Both are crucial in order to comprehend the genre’s dual identity. The historical aspect of the genre’s identity is concerned with the reconstruction of past events and how they shape cultural memory. The fiction aspect of the genre’s identity is concerned with the personal and family memories of the characters created specifically for the narrative. To put the two together is to bridge historical events with human experiences. The narratives found in women’s historical fiction look at how women remember for themselves as much as they do for others. An important aspect of these novel’s narratives is seen in the use of point of view. The chosen point of view determines how the personal and the historical are bridged in the story. Between Shades of Gray and When the Rainbow Goddess Wept are both completely written from the protagonists’ point of view. This immediately gives the readers Lina’s and Yvonne’s direct perspectives of the war as it happens. The use of first person POV is one way that memory is mediated, especially when the narrative stays within and close to the time period of World War II. The mediation of memory through this reconstruction of history is found in being drawn into the experiences as they happen, almost as though one were present during the moment, while also employing past tense in order to remain in the past. There is less distance of time within the first person point of view, which means that the readers do much of the mediation of memory on behalf of the characters. A unique effect of having both novels written in first person and in past tense is that Lina and Yvonne act both as protagonists and narrators at the same time. This means that their individual voices are at the forefront of the narrative. The first person point of view bridges the “dichotomy between the written and the remembered” (LaCapra 376) because it shows the Fantone 8 readers the historical events and the process in which it is remembered by the narrators. The occurrence and the remembering are happening at the same time because of the chosen point of view. Readers also get to know Yvonne and Lina as individuals as they are contextualized in a larger historical event. The way these two novels use first person narration keeps the text within the historical eras they represent. But it is also in the choice to remain with the given point of view or pull away from it that the invitation to remember is given and the narrative pulls away from the historical era, even for a moment. It is only Between Shades of Gray that has a single epilogue with a time jump that pulls the readers away from Lina’s first person point of view. This epilogue is also where someone other than the reader is truly invited into the work of mediating the reconstructions of Lina’s memories. It is written in third person and depicts two workers in Lithuania in 1995 digging up an old time capsule that Lina and her now husband Andrius buried after the war. The letter she leaves inside says, “It is my hope that the pages in this jar stir your deepest well of human compassion. I hope they prompt you to tell someone” (Sepetys 338). Lina is not physically present for this moment, but the workers, who, in a way, stand in for the reader, read Lina’s words and present her invitation. It is because the epilogue is in third person, with only parts of the letter using second person, that the reader is addressed. This is how the novel pulls away from the World War II era. When the Rainbow Goddess Wept does not have an epilogue and is the only novel among the three to stay completely in first person. It keeps the novel within the World War II era, albeit after the Japanese start leaving the Philippines. It ends with Yvonne stating, “I knew someday I would have to tell still another story, and this time in my own words— not Laydan’s nor Inuks, but all mine” (Brainard 216). Because of this, the reader sees Yvonne doing the work of Fantone 9 mediation pretty much by herself, but it anticipates that the narrative that was just given in the text is Yvonne fulfilling her promise to tell the whole story. This time, it is passed on to the readers. On the other hand, The Nightingale combines both first and third person points of view in alternating chapters. The “present” chapters set in 1995 are written in first person and introduce the narrator. First person narration gives glimpses as to how the war affected the narrator and provides a more personal experience when it comes to finding remnants of the past. Much like the other novels, the phenomenon of occurrence and remembrance happening at the same time is presented in these chapters. They allow the reader to see what this narrator feels and thinks when the memories return to her. The “past” chapters set in the 1940s employ third person narration as it depicts the war. This allows multiple characters’ stories to weave together, particularly pointing out that both Rossignol sisters are the persons of focus. Unlike the first person point of view chapters, occurrence takes precedence here because the third person point of view chapters merely present what happened while letting the first person point of view chapters do the work of remembering. The use of two points of view alternately conceals the narrator’s identity. The first person point of view chapters provide the narrator’s perspective without actually revealing her name. They only hint at her being one of the Rossignol sisters. Because of this, the third person point of view chapters are able to fully depict both sisters’ experiences of the war as equally as possible. Thus, when the timeline returns to 1995, or the narrator’s present, the reader already comprehends what this narrator has experienced and can feel a sense of mystery behind which Rossignol sister she is. The revelation that the narrator is Vianne further solidifies her role as a Fantone 10 memory keeper. She is the one who has to do the work of remembering her sister upon Isabelle’s death and keep her legacy alive. The two points of view demonstrate the relationship between memory and time. The passing of time is what creates the narrator’s voice in the first person point of view chapters. The first person point of view chapters show what kind of relationship she has with her memories due to the passage of time. In Vianne’s case, not even the stretch of years has made the pain any less heavy to bear. The third person point of view chapters deepen the narrative and chronological past of the novel, which creates a distance of time for the readers as well. It also allows each characters’ thoughts and feelings to be expressed by a voice other than their own. In a reversal of what the previous novels accomplish, it is the third person narration in The Nightingale that keeps the text within the historical era it represents, while the first person narration pulls the narrator/protagonist away from the actual historical era almost completely. The first person point of view chapters also function as epilogues that are scattered throughout the text. Because these chapters are set outside of the text’s designated historical event, including the last chapter, Vianne is able to determine how she will share the work of remembering. This is not an invitation that is extended directly to the reader, but rather to the remaining people in her life, specifically her son, Julien. She says, “I will tell my son my life story at last. There will be pain in remembering, but there will be joy, too” (Hannah 564). The reader’s participation is in implying how the sharing of these memories that Vianne has held onto will change her existing relationships. Historical fiction allows readers to peek into the humanity within what has happened in the past while allowing fact and imagination to guide the narrative. Because it is also a reconstruction of specific historical events and eras, the genre opens up many issues, some of Fantone 11 which include the accuracy of the historical eras being represented in the text and the role of the historical fiction writer (Brown). It opens up the question of whether a text is historical fiction or fictionalized history— especially since fiction and history have their own conventions when it comes to being materialized as texts. One research on historical fiction states, “The historian's approach is necessarily broader, examining historical complexities in greater depth and using digressions and footnotes to qualify and explain. Novelists, on the other hand, forego the expansive canvas that historians use in order to create clear characterizations and forward-moving plot lines that arrive, finally, at resolutions often denied to history” (J. Brown). Therefore, the fiction represents the history while the history informs the fiction. The fictional aspects of the genre also represent the personal as it hones into the experiences of a few people, created within the writer’s imagination, placed against the larger picture of history. Thus, historical fiction allows for the personal to stand side by side with the historical. Because historical fiction aims to reconcile the personal and the historical, its narrative structure depends on how and where memories are presented in the story. Memory itself does not function in a fully linear or chronological manner, especially in literature. The way stories of the past are presented shows how memory is preserved in the mind and then eventually shared. All three novels infuse personal memories with the historical plots ensuing. This allows the reader to glimpse into the protagonists’ lives before, during, and even after the war. Additionally, each novel takes different approaches to weaving memory into the structure of the plot. Memory can also be seen, not just in the historical contents of the historical fiction genre, but also in the narrative itself. Astrid Erll notes that memory can build the framework of a narrative because remembering is an anachronistic, and therefore fragmented, process (214). Each of these novels integrates chronological fragmentations in various ways, and each forms a building block to their Fantone 12 unique structures. These different manners of chronological fragmentations also provide different ways of segmenting what happens before, during, and after the war. Between Shades of Gray immediately dives into the historical event of focus. It begins with Lina, Elena, and Jonas packing up their things in the middle of the night and boarding a train bound for a work camp with other Lithuanian captives. There is no prior set up before this specific scene. In other words, the novel does not start with painting a picture of what life was like for Lina before the war. The very first sentence of the novel is, “They took me in my nightgown” (Sepetys 3). From this sentence alone, the readers already see the war and deportation in action. The rest of the chapters will depict Lina and her family’s experiences in a somewhat chronological order. But standing side by side with the linear main plot are glimpses of the past that interrupt this chronological narrative. The glimpses of life prior to the war and the arrival of the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs, or NKVD in Russian, in Between Shades of Gray are seen in italicized vignettes which are spread out in various chapters. These often appear during very contemplative moments for Lina. Crucial information about Lina and her family is revealed Within these italicized vignettes. In chapter 2, the italicized vignette shows Lina having a conversation with an older woman who recognizes her but whom Lina does not recognize in turn. When asked why the older lady recognizes Lina, she responds, “My husband is a professor at the university. He works for your father” (9). From this conversation, the readers know about Kostas Vilkas’ employment and can begin to infer how being connected to a university made the Vilkas family a political target. Another vignette is found in chapter 31 where Lina receives a notification on her application to a summer program at the art academy she applied for previously. In this vignette, Fantone 13 Lina notes that “Ever since Mrs. Pranas had mailed my application, I had thought of little else. Studying with the best artists in Europe. It was such an opportunity” (118). When she opens the letter, she finds out that she has been accepted. From this sneak into the past, the reader gets a full picture of Lina’s dreams: she wants to become a professional artist and this summer program was a step to achieving this dream. It shows the kind of life she left behind and the kind of future she would have had if the war never happened. This also demonstrates the amount of artistic skill she possesses that is reflected in the drawings and sketches she leaves behind during the war. Because her artistic skills would not be used in a prestigious summer art program, she would instead use them to archive her own experiences and preserve the truth. The vignettes bridge Lina’s past with her experiences of the war in the novel’s narrative present. They also function the way flashbacks do. They are inserted during moments where Lina experiences danger, witnesses something frightening, or even reflects on something vulnerable. The memory of the woman who recognizes Lina’s father in chapter 2 is placed right after Lina and her family are ushered out of their home and Lina looks at the loaf of bread she left on her desk (8). This is where Lina truly departs her old life and experiences arrest and deportation. The vignette that follows directly after actually begins in a bakery where Lina buys bread from the woman who knows Kostas Vilkas (9). Before the vignette that depicts Lina’s acceptance into the summer art program in chapter 31, Lina, Jonas, and Elena eat a meager dinner of bread and potatoes and reflect on their dire situation of poverty and hunger. The last line before transitioning to the vignette is: “I stared into the dark and tried to paint images with my mind on the black canvas” (118). This is then followed by the flashback to Lina and her family gathering to open her acceptance letter (118-119). This exemplifies how the memories that come back to Lina are connected to her thought process or reflections of her current situation and are triggered Fantone 14 by specific objects, such as the bread and her makeshift sketchpad. These vignettes connect, not just Lina’s past and present, but also the narrative itself and make the characterizations more cohesive. The narrative structure of The Nightingale demonstrates the way the past interrupts the present, which is a defining feature of memory itself. As mentioned previously, The Nightingale alternates between 1995 in the United States and 1939 onwards in France. The novel opens by showing one of the Rossignol sisters, now an elderly woman, living in the year 1995 and having moved physically away from the remnants of World War II. The following chapters then go back in time and actually tell the story of what happened during the war itself. Additionally, the chapters set in 1995 are spread out throughout the novel and interrupt the narratives set in the 1940s. This kind of chapter setup mimics the nonlinear and interruptive nature of memory as a phenomenon, which is further amplified through the use of different points of view for each timeline. The chapters set in 1995 center around a main narrator who has experienced the German occupation of France during the Second World War. Because she is in the present, she finds herself carrying a lot of the memories of what she went through during that time period and reflecting on them. In chapter 1, the narrator says, “Lately, though, I find myself thinking about the war and my past, about the people I lost. Lost. It makes it sound as if I misplaced my loved ones; perhaps I left them where they don’t belong and then turned away, too confused to retrace my steps” (Hannah 1). This feeling of displacement is further exacerbated by the fact that the chapter also reveals that the narrator now lives in Oregon and not France anymore. The “present” chapters show how the narrator will find remnants of the war and continue grappling with the memories she has carried for years. Fantone 15 The chapters set during the war go into detail about the main characters’ individual experiences from that era. Chapter 2 takes the reader back to France in 1939, just as the German occupation in France is about to happen. It opens with Vianne Mauriac in her home watching her husband Antoine and her daughter Sophie playing inside the house. As she looks at Antoine, Vianne thinks to herself, “She loved everything about this man, his smile, the way he mumbled in his sleep and laughed after a sneeze and sang opera in the shower” (7). This scene sets Vianne as a crucial character in the narrative and the kind of life she was living before the war, with a loving husband and a happy child. The subsequent chapters introduce another crucial character: Isabelle Rossignol, Vianne’s younger sister. In chapter 4, when she is first introduced, Isabelle is a student at a Catholic girl’s finishing school. She accidentally curses while at the dining table with her classmates, which irks one of the teachers, Madame Dufour, who then tells Isabelle, “You will go see Madame Allard and tell her that our experiment has come to an end” (27). This shows how Isabelle is struggling with what is expected of her as a young woman and her eventual expulsion would define her decisions later on when the war breaks out. As the narrative continues, the two sisters each lead different lives as the violence continues. Vianne, who works as a schoolteacher, stays at home as her husband is called to war. She finds herself unwillingly billeting Nazi soldiers and having to keep the peace and mitigating the consequences of Nazi presence in her community. Isabelle, on the other hand, decides to join the underground movement that aimed to smuggle Allied soldiers out of France and into safety. Because the “past” chapters go into detail about the two protagonist sisters and other characters, it gives a holistic picture of their experiences; thus, when the “present” chapters hone in on the singular narrator, the readers understand the kinds of memories she is holding. This is how the past constantly inserts itself into the narrator’s present. Fantone 16 When the Rainbow Goddess Wept takes a more linear and almost oral approach to memory. The novel begins with depictions of Yvonne’s life before she and her family fled to the countryside before unfolding what happens to them as the war progresses. While it seems to follow a linear pattern, it also allows for the insertion of crucial historical facts related to the Japanese occupation of the Philippines, stories of Yvonne’s family, and retellings of Filipino myths and legends that form part of Yvonne’s voice as a narrator. The novel is also written in a way that makes it seem like Yvonne is orally recounting the entire story, which mimics pre-colonial and pre-literate ways of storytelling in the Philippines. One example of this structure is in the chapter titled “The Alvarezes.” The chapter begins with Yvonne observing her father finishing a conversation with Gil Alvarez. From this conversation, Yvonne learns more about the state of the country. Alvarez tells Yvonne’s father, “I don’t know what to do, Prof. Martin Lewis refuses to cooperate. Since he went underground, he’s set up his own headquarters, and he wont’ talk or negotiate” (Brainard 139). This conversation provides information about the American involvement in the Philippines during the Japanese occupation. It also provides insight into how Yvonne’s father participated in the guerilla movement. The chapter also touches on other aspects of Philippine history, such as the American occupation of the country prior to the Second World War (141-143). Then, Yvonne herself gets to speak to Cristobal Alvarez, or Cris, Gil’s son. Their conversation suddenly turns to the subject of death. Yvonne talks to Cris about Laydan, the storyteller in the countryside that taught her all about ancient Filipino mythology. She states that “Laydan used to say that there’s the skyworld, the earth, and the underworld. When you die, you go to the underworld, where the good goddess Mabuyan watches the Underworld River. But if you are really special, you go to the Skyworld” Fantone 17 (146). From this conversation with Cris, the myths are integrated into the narrative and stand side by side with Yvonne’s own experiences and the historical background of the novel. Another example is in the chapter titled “The Move.” It begins with Yvonne’s father talking to the family about what was happening with the guerilla movement and that state of affairs back home in Ubec. He tells them that “guerilla tactics include ambushing and destruction of roads and bridges that would otherwise make it easy for the Japanese to invade,” to which Yvonne responds, “Is that why the USAFFE bombed Ubec?” (99). They then prepare to move in order to be closer to the guerilla movement. Yvonne’s father boards a submarine while Yvonne, her mother, and their househelp Nida take a boat. As they sail to their destination, they experiences two frightening encounters: the first is when they find a flier on the floor of their cot from the Japanese armed forces promising a reward for anyone who can provide information on American military movements or turn in American soldiers (101), and the second is when Japanese soldiers join the boat ride and Yvonne fears for the secret gold bullions she was carrying for her father (102). As the boat sails on, Yvonne stares at the Japanese soldiers and thinks to herself, “I wished I were a giant, like the Giant of Pangamon in Laydan’s stories, so I could step on him, and I would watch his guts spill out” (102). This chapter exemplifies how Yvonne receives knowledge of the world around her and the events affecting the country from the adults around her and how the adults make decisions that change her life. Since her father joined the guerrilla resistance, she and her entire family must uproot their lives. As she learns about the world around her and reflects on how she must go along with the adults’ decisions because she is just a child, the mythology is how she makes sense of the things outside of her control. Fantone 18 Even with the different manners of chronological fragmentation and different approaches to presenting the protagonists’ lives before and during the war, each of the novels also shows what happens to the protagonists after the war. The endings of the books demonstrate different passages of time for them. This is another crucial way in which memory is further mediated for these characters because the distance of time creates different atmospheres of reflection. As discussed previously, the epilogue for Between Shades of Gray and the last chapter of The Nightingale are set in 1995, decades after the war, while the last chapter of When the Rainbow Goddess Wept is set in 1944, months after the Japanese leave the Philippines. The books that have a bigger time jump require more of the readers’ imaginations to fill in the gaps of the “lost years” in between the past and the present. There is also a division of historical timelines because the narrative is set during the historical event and the ending is set at a different time period. The book that does not have this time jump keeps the readers within the historical time period and leaves room for readers’ imaginations to procure what may happen in an era after the war. While the three novels’ provide different passages of time, they all bring the protagonist’s back home. They all return to where everything began. The provided narratives demonstrate how historical fiction novels contribute to the cultural memory of the past. History is different from cultural memory because history refers to the events and eras of the past, while cultural memory is the remembrance of the past over the years. Jan Assman establishes that history is part of the formation of cultural memory. He states, “Cultural memory has its fixed point; its horizontal change with the passing of time. These fixed points are fateful events of the past, whose memory is maintained through cultural formation (texts, rites, monuments) and institutional communication (recitation, practice, observance)” (129). As texts that hone into specific events, historical fiction provides more individualized Fantone 19 perspectives of history and different ways that memory could be mediated through the narrative. The very act of writing historical fiction requires extensive research and involvement with the events being written about. Sepetys and Brainard, for example, were inspired to write their novels based on their own family stories during World War II. Hannah was inspired to write her novel based on research that she was doing. This further shows how personal investment in cultural knowledge branches into individualized narratives that branch back into collective history. The way the history is presented in such novels also involves the readers. Lovro Skopljanac describes certain “heuristic triads” between an author, the text and the reader (197). The author presents an interpretation or reconstruction of memory through the literary text, and the reader engages with the memories within the text, interprets them, and integrates them into their own memories. As Skopljanac states, literature and cultural memory are tied together because it almost always depends on an individual memory in the writer’s act of creation (multiple authorship is rare) and the single reader’s act of re-creation (in modern literate societies, reading is strictly a solitary activity), but it is also formed as a cultural memory in an interplay with other texts” (211). Those who read historical fiction have their cultural memory of historical events informed by the texts. The writer, text, and reader are all connected by a fixed point, each participating in the creation and expansion of cultural memory. This heuristic triad is expanded in the way the narrators/protagonists in these novels either directly invite readers or imply, via other characters, an invitation to the readers to join in the work of remembering. It is through the voices of the narrators/protagonists or the development of the characters’ relationships with their own memories and with the people in their lives that the writers themselves extend this invitation. Fantone 20 The specific points of view and chronological fragmentations used in the texts blend the historical and fictional together. Hayden White notes, “It may seem strange to conceive the difference between history and fiction in terms of the difference between enquiry directed at the provision of the true and enquiry designed to give access to the real” (148). These characters, as fictional as they are, represent the reality of the history they symbolize. As they do the work of memory for themselves and their families, they bridge the gaps between their experiences and their memories of those experiences. That is how the readers are given further access to these human aspects of history. The very act of writing these narratives deepens how women take on the role of memory keepers. As they take inspiration from their own family stories and seek the stories of other women during war, the authors themselves add more to the work of remembering that is exemplified by their characters. Women-written and women-centered historical fiction pushes the duality of portraying and replicating the preservation of memory as the authors’ voices work side by side with the protagonists’ voices. ARTIFACTS OF MEMORY An important aspect of memory is how it is materialized after certain events or moments occur. Male-centered war narratives tend to focus on much more public materializations of memory, such as war memorials, gravesites, and museums, etc. Female-centered war narratives, on the other hand, tend to focus on more private materializations of memory, such as letters, photographs, personal items, and more. These physical markers of memory show more intimate and personal experiences, and when they are highlighted in historical fiction, it allows the genre to really zoom into the smaller details rather than zoom out to the bigger picture. The Fantone 21 protagonists in each novel create, find, and keep small artifacts of memory that hold special significance to each of them. Feminist theories and studies have always tried to center women’s voices and work, especially when it comes to women’s perspectives on historical events. According to Marianne Hirsch and Valerie Smith, “For the last thirty years, feminist scholarship has been driven by the desire to redefine culture from the perspective of women through the retrieval and inclusion of women’s work, stories, and artifacts” (3). The novels offer different forms of small, private artifacts of memory and show the labor women do behind the preservation of these physical objects and private locations. This is where the concept of metonymy intersects with memory. Dale Tracy states that metonymy “ refers… to contiguity between ideas, objects, or contexts more broadly” (7). Memory has the power to materialize what is immaterial through physical objects and what they represent. They can resurface memories because they belong to a past era of time or they can stand in for someone or something from the past even if it does not directly belong to them. Tracy continues, “Metonymy is a way to imagine how relationships within structures are performed” (20). It is when physical objects represent and stand in for people from the past that memory is mediated or reconstructed and the work of remembering is done. It stands in for the relationship between the one remembering and the one being remembered. Between Shades of Gray shows the creation of physical materializations of memory through Lina’s drawings and sketches that she makes throughout deportation and relocation. These drawings depict what she and others like her endured. They show the people who were with her, the places they’ve been to, and the conditions they faced. Lina’s original purpose for drawing was to be able to communicate with her father. She says, “I would hide my messages to Fantone 22 Papa until I found a way to send something” (Sepetys 153). While on the train, Lina draws things that will help identify where they’ve been on a handkerchief and signs them with a caricature of a wolf to make them identifiable to her father while avoiding them being traced back to her (67-68). She creates a visual archive or story of places that they are sent to, including the work camps she and her family end up in. By drawing her environment, Lina tells the story of the truth behind the mass deportation and memorializes these events for people other than her father. These drawings, in addition to the letters Lina and her family write, are a form of communication between the people experiencing this historical event. They also signify the relationships she has with the people she originally intended to leave them behind for. In a time of war and separation, these are the only ways that Lina can reach out to them and express her love. These also function as further materializations of the conditions Lina and the other Lithuanian refugees faced. Letters and drawings were written and drawn with materials that were available to them. For example, Lina draws with a pen she steals from the NKVD offices (174) and the pad of papers that her mother and Mrs. Rimas put together for her birthday (230), and even uses ash and coal for ink to draw a map to where her mother is eventually buried (322). The materials used to write and draw are memorials of the environments that Lina finds herself in and also demonstrate how war requires people to use what limited resources are available to them to continue their lives and communications as much as possible. But aside from showing the visual truth behind the experience of being deported from Lithuania and sent to a work camp, it is through drawing and writing about her experiences that Lina mediates and reconstructs her memories. For example, she draws people that have impacted her on this journey. In one scene, Lina draws a portrait for Andrius, her love interest and eventual husband, and gives it to him as a Christmas present and as a means of thanking him for bringing Fantone 23 the tomatoes that help Jonas recover from scurvy (210). In another scene, Lina draws a picture of a woman named Ulyushka, whom she previously despised. As she draws, she also contemplates on her perception of this woman. Lina states, “Ulyushka, the woman I despised, kept us alive on the train. We lived off the food she had given Mother. We shared it with others. I drew Ulyshka’s wide face and stalks of black hair, trying to steady my hand through the train’s vibration” (257). The act of drawing Ulyushka symbolizes how the relationship between them changed. Through examples such as these, the reader sees how Lina adds her own personal memories to the overall collective memory of this event. This is how the personal becomes historical and how the historical becomes personal. Aside from being able to create physical artifacts of her own, Lina also observes what her mother was able to salvage from home before their forced departure. These include three silver coins and their grandfather’s pocket watch. Because of the difficult journey of deportation, these items are passed on, some never to remain within the family ever again. In order to send letters to Lina’s father, her mother takes out “three sterling silver pieces she had sewn into the coat” that were wedding presents, and Lina notes how her mother “offered one piece to the grouchy woman in exchange for mailing letters…” (167). Earlier in the novel, when Jonas was about to be taken away, Elena shows the NKVD officer her father’s watch in exchange for keeping Jonas with her and Lina (26-27). As the issue is resolved, Lina thinks to herself, “Have you ever wondered what a human life is worth? That morning, my brother’s was worth a pocket watch” (27). Through these items, the reader sees how the war affects these sentimental items. They were traded off in order to preserve Lina, her brother, and her mother. It proves that part of the tragedy of war is a separation from many valuable items that hold memories. Memory becomes the price for survival. Fantone 24 The metonymy within these materializations is summated when Lina, Jonas, and Andrius collect these things and bury them in the time capsule during the epilogue. The time capsule and the letter explaining its contents are in themselves additional artifacts. The letter both enumerates what one would find inside the jar and also testifies of the truth, knowing that what she and the others went through may be forgotten over time. She writes, “So we put our trust in you, the person who discovers this capsule of memories sometime in the future. We trust you with the truth, for contained herein is exactly that— the truth” (337-338). Through this time capsule, Lina expands who her letters and drawings are for. Because they would never be read by her father and they would never reunite her family, these artifacts would instead speak to any willing heart and mind that would acknowledge the suffering they endured and would continue the work of remembering them. When the Rainbow Goddess Wept also demonstrates the depth of meaning that is found when personal or sentimental items have memory invested in them and how the conditions of war and loss affect their preservation and how they are passed on. Before her death, Laydan gives Yvonne a special gift to remember her by. She tells Yvonne to “find the beaded vest” (Brainard 93), which was owned by Inuk, a crucial figure from one of Laydan’s many tales and epics. The beaded vest symbolizes Laydan and the labor she has done her entire life to preserve Filipino arts (including the beadwork it took to make the vest) and oral traditions. By passing the vest onto Yvonne, she is also passing on this crucial labor that forms part of Filipino culture. The passing on of this legacy is encapsulated in Laydan’s constant advice to Yvonne: “Become the epic, become the epic” (Brainard 94). Thus, the vest is both a physical embodiment of the passing of Laydan’s legacy to Yvonne and a reminder of Laydan herself. Fantone 25 Yvonne also observes her mother talking about the ring she inherited from her family. She says, “It was a pearl ring, set in bright Chinese gold, which my grandmother had given her when she was eight” (191). This ring already holds so much family history since it was passed from one generation to another, but Yvonne elaborates further on the ring’s origin. She recounts the story of how the pearl was originally owned by a pearl diver who had it turned into a ring for his wife. He died in a tragic diving accident, and Yvonne’s grandmother, Lola Beatrize, was the one who embalmed him for his funeral. But because the wife was now impoverished, “... she offered her the pearl ring as payment, and Lola Beatrize accepted the ring without begrudging the unfortunate widow” (191). This is a two-fold inheritance where Yvonne’s mother received both the ring itself and the story behind it. Yvonne then receives the story, which will make the experience much more meaningful for her when she would eventually receive the pearl ring. The investment of memory found in personal items that are passed from generation to generation are formed with both a physical object and the story behind it. It also shows the interconnectedness of the community surrounding the making, finding, and passing on of such items. Additionally, When the Rainbow Goddess Wept focuses on small locations that function as sites of memory. Borrowing from the French historian Pierre Nora’s theories, Jay Winter defines sites of memory as “places where groups of people engage in public activity” (312) that commemorates collective or shared knowledge about the past. These kinds of sites of memory are distinct from what would typically be defined as sites of memory, which are more public and nationalistic, and often male-dominated, such as war memorials, designated cemeteries, and monuments— places of “historical remembrance” (Winter 314). Instead, When the Rainbow Goddess Wept highlights sites of memory that are overlooked by history and instead offers more domestic, personal, and family-centered locations that are invested with memories and stories. Fantone 26 In the novel, crucial sites of memory are the trees in the family’s country residence. Each tree holds a significant memory for Yvonne. One is the tree that Yvonne plays in where she reflects on the myths that were told to her by Laydan. In one instance, Yvonne climbs the tree, and reflects on the story of a black giant: “The jackfruit tree in the backyard was occupied by an enchanted black giant who sometimes made himself visible on moonlit nights. He would sit on the same branch that I was sitting on, and he would smoke a cigar” (122). Later on, when Martin Lewis, an important line of communication for Yvonne’s father when he joins the guerrilla efforts, arrives at their home, Yvonne looks to the tree to find the myth she associates with it in order to make sense of the escalating events of the war. As she lays in bed ruminating, she states, “From my bed I peered through the window at the jackfruit tree, trying to conjure up an image of the enchanted black giant, but unable to do so” (166). It is this tree and the act of using it to imagine the legends and myths that Laydan tells her that Yvonne comprehends the world around her. This tree also commemorates both this country home that she lives in and how Yvonne and her family experienced the war. The other tree that becomes significant to Yvonne is the tree that they bury Laydan under when she eventually dies. As Yvonne narrates, “We buried her under a lovely orchid tree with ferns sprouting all around. I asked Bitong to carve a small boat out of wood, which I placed on top of her grave” (94). Aside from functioning as her resting place, this tree also symbolizes Laydan herself, who was very close to nature and the spirituality surrounding it. Trees are significant in Filipino folklore, which makes it all the more significant that a keeper of folklore would be buried under one. Both the jackfruit tree where Yvonne imagines the black giant and the orchid tree where Laydan the storyteller is buried become sites of memory because of the Fantone 27 way Yvonne mythicizes them. That is how she mediates her memories of the war and of Laydan and how she invests her remembrances of the past. Another important location that functions as a site of memory for Yvonne and her family is the grave that they make for the little boy Yvonne’s mother gives birth to that unfortunately dies shortly after. Because they were in the countryside where there was no designated cemetery or memorial place, they had to improvise when they buried him. As Yvonne states, “After the burial, the men dragged enormous rocks and piled them on the grave as a marker” (56). This marker becomes a commemoration of the infant’s short life and sudden death and where it all occurred. It also commemorates the living conditions of the family in the countryside. Because they are not in their original home where the infant could have been buried in a proper cemetery or family burial plot with a proper grave marker, they could only use what was available to them. This is different from Laydan’s grave where Yvonne has a small wooden boat created to serve a grave marker in addition to the tree that already marks the place of burial (95). It is reminiscent of the journey through the Underworld river. The stillborn baby brother’s grave, marked with ordinary rocks, demonstrates the need to bury the child fast and how Yvonne’s parents in particular feel about the area. They don’t add personalized markers over his grave because they feel that the countryside is not their true home. To them, this is not where they wanted their child to truly live in but instead became the place where he died. The temporary marker also shows that they intended to bring his body home to Ubec and bury him in a place they feel a true emotional connection to, a place they call home (57). Laydan’s burial ground feels more personalized because that countryside is her home. She has a connection to this land that Yvonne and her family do not. Additionally, Yvonne asking for a small boat to be made as a grave marker shows that she had a connection with Laydan and will eventually follow in her Fantone 28 footsteps. She loved Laydan and her stories and truly knew her, whereas she never got to know her stillborn brother. Yvonne was also able to have more say in how she chose to honor Laydan, whereas her parents made all the decisions in how they would bury their dead infant. These sites of memory show how the characters’ environment can determine the manner and type of investment in memory they are willing to outwardly demonstrate. The Nightingale looks at how finding physical remnants or reminders of war days can trigger memory. The novel opens with one of the Rossignol sisters, now an elderly woman living in the USA in the year 1995, looking through old boxes and finding an old passport with the name she immediately recognizes. She says, “My hands are shaking as I pick it up. It is a carte d’identité, an identity card, from the war. I see the small, passport-sized photo of a young woman. Juliette Gervaise” (Hannah 3). This immediately triggers a strong reaction in her: “My instinct is to toss the card into the trunk and slam the lid down, hiding it again. It’s what I have done all my life” (4). From finding the passport, the reader is clued into the fact that the memories associated with this item and the name and photo of the person it belonged to are painful— too painful even for the elderly lady to share with her own son. Finding the carte d’identité becomes a catalyst for memories of World War II to start returning and for the newly introduced narrator to face the past. Later on, she receives an invitation in the mail for a passeurs’ reunion to honor those who served in the war (192). Although the physical invitation card in itself is not an item from the war, its contents also invoke memories of the past. The elderly narrator spends some time ruminating on this offer, stating, “That damned invitation is haunting me. I’d swear it as a heartbeat” (383). This invitation not only shows that the past is haunting the narrator, but it also asks the narrator to return to France and face the name of the Nightingale once again (382-384). The Nightingale is a Fantone 29 name that brings an ache to her heart, a name that symbolizes a savior to others but a loss to her. This name itself is an immaterial concept, but having it written on an invitation card materializes it for the narrator, further putting metonymy in action. When the narrator decides to return to France and attend the event, she once again sees more materializations of abstract memories from the war. Names are given physicalities that require her to mediate her memories and face them more fully. Through these materializations, the reader also understands more of who the narrator truly is and her relationship with the Nightingale. During the passeurs’ reunion, the narrator is asked to speak, and she notices two name tags: one with her name on it and one with another name that she also recognizes. She says, “At the sight of it, my heart gives a little squeeze” (557). The name on that second tag is that of Sophie Mauriac, her daughter who endured the hardships of the war with her and has already passed away before this event (558). Later on, the narrator runs into Gaëtan, the man her sister Isabelle, the titular Nightingale, was in love with prior to her death, and he introduces her to his daughter, whom he named Isabelle. Upon hearing this, the narrator notes, “I wonder if Gaëtan knows what this small remembrance would mean to Isabelle” (561). Sophie’s name tag and the young Isabelle being a namesake for Isabelle Rossignol are further materializations of names that invoke heavy memories. Much like the carte d’identité and the invitation, they give a physical embodiment to what is abstract. They symbolize crucial people who are no longer physically present. These materializations are what reveal that the narrator is actually Vianne Mauriac, Isabelle’s sister. This revelation happens at the end of the novel because Vianne herself feels lost as she hesitates to face the past. It is when she returns home and becomes willing to share her memories with others that she is revealed to be Vianne. This allows the reader to make sense of Fantone 30 where the narrator belongs in the narrative and her exact relationship with the memory of the Nightingale. By interacting with materializations of abstract memories of her lost loved ones, Vianne also allows herself to make peace with the past and further honor her sister’s participation in the war. Towards the end of the novel, Vianne interacts with one more physical remnant of the past. She reunites with Ariel de Champlain, or Ari, the son of her best friend Rachel who she tried to protect during the war. Vianne tells her son, “Ari is my best friend’s son… When Rachel was deported to Auschwitz, I hid him in our home, even though a Nazi billeted with us” (563). Ari also carries memories of the war, and he brings one to Vianne: “... the framed photograph of [Vianne] and Rachel” (563). Through bringing Vianne the photo, she finds one last reminder of the best friend she once lost, and she is brought peace knowing that Rachel’s son lived a good life and survived. It is through metonymy that memories and traumas of the past are triggered, but it is also through metonymy that the love for the people being symbolized is seen. Women-centered historical fiction highlights private memorializations of history. In this kind of literature, much of the physical work of remembering is aligned with the kind of domestic labor that women are often expected to do, especially during the 1940s where women were traditionally expected to maintain households. These include packing items for the family, telling stories to children, and organizing items in the home to name a few. War does not change the kind of domestic labor that is often expected of women; it only changes the context in which it is done. These novels demonstrate how this work now also serves the purpose of preserving crucial aspects of day to day living when war interrupts it. It is when the protagonists either perform this kind of labor or observe the other women in their lives doing this work that they engage with the work of keeping memory. It is in how the women in the novels continue the kind of domestic labor that they usually do in peacetime during war, or as Margeret Higgonet states, Fantone 31 “echo their assignment to the domestic front” (252), that their roles as memory keepers align with womanhood. The work that serves the individual and the family in turn serves the whole of society. This is how the way women preserve memory becomes more private and family-centered compared to how the way men preserve memory is more public and nationalistic. These cultural and textual memories provide “an attentiveness to… less manifest or secret, even hidden, dimensions that may connect with related dimensions of society and culture” (LaCapra 386). It proves that the small, individual, and private memorializations make up the larger aspects of cultural memory. Examining these novels from a feminist lens does not put women into a new role that they have never played before, but rather, shows the role that women have always played because of the things they have always done. The women in these novels preserve memories that are often overlooked by society and give a voice to civilian experiences of war and conflict. They focus on items and locations related to the home and family, or more specifically, each member of the family. When placed against the larger canvas of cultural memory, they show how that war is not just experienced by armed forces, but by everyone. At the same time, the female protagonists of each novel does the work of memory for herself as an individual. Although preserving memory is often done for the people in their lives, the stories allow them as women to have their own relationships with those memories and show how they belong to them too. To memorialize what matters to individuals and families is to memorialize the very building blocks of society and civilization. The physical artifacts or locations that hold memory in these novels are products of the environment and material conditions of war and how the protagonists and their families experience war. They also stand in place of those who are lost to the ones left behind to tell the Fantone 32 story. The materiality provided in these novels mediates memory through metonymy as a means of investing in the work of remembrance. The keeping of personal items as artifacts exemplifies and aligns with the labor that women do in keeping what is deemed important. Public memorials aim to preserve collective and nationalistic items and emblems, but women keep artifacts that are personal and family-owned. While publicized memorials require a change in the surrounding environment or landscape in order to be built, private and intimate artifacts that are often kept or created by women are done so in ways that adjust to the surrounding environment. It is safe to say that women preserve cultural memory in the way they adjust to and work with how the world changes. CONCLUSION What women-written and women-centered historical novels offer, as seen through these examples of narrative and material aspects, are individual perspectives of history that may often be unnoticed, untold, or even repressed. Because traditional history is often told by men and becomes male-centered, women’s stories are not always preserved. The historical fiction genre not only provides a space for untold stories to be centered, but also demonstrates how writing mediates and works through memory. The narratives center the voices of civilian women whose stories blur the lines between “homefront” and “battlefront.” This sheds light on the individual experiences of war as opposed to presentations of general facts of the past. The writing and publication of women-centered historical fiction in itself contributes to cultural knowledge about their designated historical eras. As these stories balance the historical and the fictional aspects of its genre, they also allow for multiple investments into cultural memory. They also hone into more personal and Fantone 33 family memories that, when put side by side with a larger historical event, make history more immersive and relatable. They humanize the facts that history presents and align with the way women tell stories, which is what differs it from male-centered texts. The materiality that the novels focus on demonstrates how women often keep and create more private and individual or family owned artifacts in times of war and conflict. The investment of memory into these personal artifacts is seen through metonymy as these sentimental items and private locations symbolize or stand in place of loved ones who are lost. Further work can be done to investigate the ways women keep memory. There are possibilities in examining other women-centered historical fiction novels that focus on wars other than World War II. Examining historical war novels from other countries opens up room for looking at different cultural narratives and perspectives on war and conflict. Because this thesis merely points out what makes women’s roles as memory keepers stand out in this particular genre, further studies on this topic could benefit from doing comparative work between male-centered and female-centered historical fiction to point out more differences between the two, which may provide a better understanding of the historical fiction genre has a whole. The narratives, materiality, and centering of women’s voices distinguish female-centered historical fiction from what male-centered historical fiction tends to present. They expand what historical fiction as a genre is able to achieve. They demonstrate the work of remembering and actually hold space for inviting others to join this work. 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