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An
Interview with Pat Carr, Author of Death of a Confederate Colonel

Most authors
who use the Civil War in fiction write novels. Why did you choose to write
short stories?
While I am writing a novel set in the Civil War, I see short fiction and
longer narratives as having completely different functions. For me, novels
must contain a vast core event—those encompassing actions of life
and death, love and betrayal in War and Peace, Crime and
Punishment or the social novels of Jane Austen, George Eliot, and
Trollope, or the picaresque adventures in Tom Jones. Short stories focus
on intimate personal triumphs and defeats, those moments of awareness
Joyce called ‘epiphanies,’ after which nothing in the lives
of the characters will ever be the same. I think both are equally important,
and I wanted to capture the moments with this particular book.
What is your attraction to history?
I grew up in a Wyoming oil camp in the middle of nowhere, and in that
desolate landscape there seemed to be no present and very little future,
but there was a past in the arrowheads I used to find in the hills. My
love for history probably began then, and I was an undergraduate history
major at Rice. I think we can get a better grasp of where we’re
going by looking at where we’ve been, and since I’m convinced
that human emotions and motives stay the same through the ages, I feel
we can understand ourselves if we understand history.
Why not write history then rather than historical fiction?
Fiction has the advantage or making a reader care about the participants
in an event, which isn’t necessarily the case with the facts of
history.
Since you’re writing fiction, do you just make up what happened?
Absolutely not. Americans learn too much of their history from novels
and films, and writers owe it to their readers to get the facts right.
Fiction has to have a basis in truth—and historical fiction has
the added obligation of being grounded in what actually happened.
How much research do you do in order to get it right?
Exhaustive research. I read everything I can find on the particular event
I’m using—things like contemporary recipes and advertisements
from dry-goods stores. With the Civil War, the sources can fill a library,
but I try to look at all of it—even if I don’t use half of
it. For example, I had a case of gangrene in one of my stories, so I went
to a three-hour seminar on gangrene given for nursing students, I persuaded
the staff at the Wound Center to let me hang out with them when they got
a patient with gangrene from diabetes, I haunted medical museums as far
away as Alexandria, Virginia, to study Civil War medical instruments,
and I read up on the treatments for gangrene used between 1800 and 2000
(A bromide solution could actually cure gangrene). But then the story
itself didn’t jell, and I haven’t used any of that information
yet. So now I’m trying to work a character with gangrene into the
novel I’m writing.
Is the Civil
War your main historical interest?
I’ve probably been interested in the Civil War era longer than in
any other historical period because the war itself was such a tragedy
and because it inspired so many works and so many great authors. I find
the war in Arkansas particularly tragic in view of the battlefields right
next door and the fact that the combatants and the collateral damaged
civilians were all in the family. But I’m also continually fascinated
by the artifacts of both North and South American pre-history, an interest
undoubtedly stemming from those arrowheads in my childhood.
Your stories are mostly set on the home front rather than on the battlefield.
Is there a reason for that?
In the Civil War, the home front often was the battlefield, of course,
but actually I don’t write about anything I haven’t experienced.
I do know life on the periphery of war, and since I’ve encountered
birth and death, have seen my share of blood, have listened to my father-in-law
tell about the horror of the day the Americans were ordered from the trench
‘over the top’ in 1918, and I’ve watched the stress
of returning soldiers, whose trauma caused our next-door neighbor to hang
himself a couple of months after he was invalided out after Anzio, and
caused one of my students to blow off his head not long after he got back
from Saigon. Given the eight or nine wars America has been involved in
since 1898, too many people in the twentieth century have been in battle,
and I don’t believe in usurping or devaluing their experience by
guessing what they went through. That’s the surest way to end up
with a cliché or a stereotype. I’ve also always paid attention
to Chekhov’s caution that a lie in fiction is a hundred times more
boring than it is in real life. If there’s anything I don’t
want a reader to be, it’s bored.
Is there anything in particular you want your readers to take
away from your stories?
Yes. I want them to recognize the complexity of ordinary people—not
just the Southern belles about to lose a Tara-like plantation—but
the ordinary men and women who end up witnessing and fighting the wars.
I want readers to understand motives, which are the same for all of us,
and to care about the people I present on the page. The Yank and the Reb
were essentially the same, and I want readers to see that. Ultimately
I want everyone to empathize with everyone else, no matter which side
of the war they were on or which war they’re coming back from.
When did you start writing?
Actually before I knew how to write. I must have been about three or four,
and I couldn’t recognize the letters of the alphabet, so I squiggled
lines across pages folded into books and then ‘read’ the stories
to anyone willing to listen.
One last question, what are you currently working on?
The Civil War novel I mentioned, which will be set in Little Rock in 1864
after the war had gone bad for everyone. And since TCU Press, which published
my novel about Pancho Villa, Border Ransom, has requested a sequel,
I’m also researching and working on that one.
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