Guest Blog Post on HNSNA*

The Advantage of Time-Slip and Dual-Time Novels

July 6, 2026

Guest Post by Marj Charlier —

As historical fiction writers, we are challenged to keep twenty-first century sensibilities and vocabulary out of our stories set in the past.  

We’re not to let our protagonists behave as if their opinions about race and gender equality, sexual identity, sexual behavior, religion, politics, and such were molded by our twenty-first century perspectives. Their thoughts about race, women’s rights and neurodiversity must sit comfortably in their times, even if they could have had anachronistic opinions.   

But our readers inhabit a contemporary culture with modern philosophical contexts and a specialized vocabulary with which to think about these things. Women in 2026 America believe they have the right to choose the profession they enter, whether to marry or stay single, and whether to obey the wishes of their parents. We choose our friends, choose our life’s work, choose where to live, and choose our life partners. Yes, arranged marriages, restrictive dress and hair coverings, limited occupational opportunities, and religious and patriarchal dominion over female reproductive choices persist in many cultures. But many modern American novelists and readers find it hard to accept that any woman would live, or ever have lived, under those conditions without wishing it were otherwise. 

Without superimposing a twenty-first century mindset and vocabulary on, say, a sixth-century woman, how do we make our stories relevant to today’s readers? 

I struggled with this question as I began writing medieval fiction ten years ago. In my first historical novel, The Rebel Nun, I needed to honor the religious beliefs – and doubts – of a sixth-century nun (her beliefs so different from mine) by keeping her thoughts and decisions solidly grounded in the early Christian mores and worldview of the time. That limited many narrative choices: how she (and, therefore, I) could express why she wanted to preserve control over her abbey in the hands of her sisters; how she thought about the men she came to know in her quest to save her monastery; how she resolved the questions of her own guilt in the death of her friends.  

The conundrum of representing time-appropriate versus anachronistic thought is particularly difficult to resolve when the protagonist is a real person. For most of human history, few women were literate, even fewer women left written evidence of their thoughts behind, and stories about women were nearly universally recorded by the men who controlled their lives and witnessed their behavior through patriarchal perspectives. How do we muster the courage to reject those male lenses and challenge their interpretations? 

In novels as diverse as The Marriage Portrait and Isola, historical women are appropriately portrayed as having little of today’s cultural and political context or the vocabulary to express their aspirations or to act on them. Philosophical and emotional tension rises from a lack of independent mentors to follow or language with which to advocate for themselves. We witness the stress of living a life that’s other than their ideal, and with no words to convey their hopes and dreams and few options, tragedy follows. It’s the reader’s job to make the philosophical leap to see the similarities of their emotional distress and that of modern women and conjure the words that expresses them. 

One way to bring the two perspectives and realities – historical and contemporary – together is through a dual-timeframe or a time-slip novel. The success of the Outlander series proved the effectiveness of the time-travel format. With her modern perspective on all that happens, the time-slipping Claire of Diane Gabaldon’s novels makes eighteenth-century Scotland accessible to today’s readers (and television viewers). Sarah Penner accomplished much of the same with her dual-timeframe novel, The Lost Apothecary. Not only do these novels serve to allow a modern interpretation of historical women’s desires and thoughts, they also give serious historical fiction writers a way to snag those readers who want a little magical realism in their books.  

In my most recent novel, Once Upon a Marriage, I explored the short, true life of Ingunda, a Merovingian princess of the late sixth century who was betrothed to a Visigothic prince in a geopolitically motivated arranged marriage. I wanted her story to resonate with twenty-first century readers, but how could any modern American woman relate to Ingunda’s medieval life? I stumbled on an idea: enlist a history professor from 2023, slip her through a portal to A.D. 579, and ask her to narrate the events of both time periods in her own voice. She can express the way a twenty-first century woman would interpret the restrictions, limits, and hopes of a young woman in the sixth century without putting today’s perspectives, thoughts, or vocabulary in the head of an early medieval protagonist. 

It is not common for book awards to offer entries under a time-travel or time-slip category, which may limit their critical acceptance. But by describing both what “they” thought and how “we” might see things, the twin perspectives of dual-timeframe and time-slip fiction deliver modern insight and clarity about yesterday’s agency-seekers. This could attract new readers while deepening appreciation for historical fiction.

*HNSNA: Historical Novel Society, North America https://hns-conference.com/2026/07/06/time-slip-dual-time-novels/