I left Cambridge more years ago than I care to acknowledge with a degree, a university prize for post graduate research, and a passion to tell stories. I could have stayed on and pursued an academic career but I could not see myself settling to some narrow specialisation and becoming a modern Dr Dryasdust, as characterised by Walter Scott. I thought of myself then, and think of myself still, as standing in the bardic tradition – a teller of tales.
History is one long story made up of innumerable smaller narratives and it’s important to record and pass on those narratives. Why? Well, for all sorts of reasons. Because they’re fascinating; mankind’s heroism, stupidity, devotion, inventiveness, suffering, greed, and capacity for survival against the odds have never ceased to amaze me. Because we are the products of our past and if we want to understand ourselves we have a rich archive to resort to. Because it is our history. We need to own it, guard it, protect it from the politicians, fanatics, and con men who deliberately distort the past in order to manipulate the present. It was a wise man who said, 'Those who don’t know their history are destined to repeat it.’
So, after doing the young man’s thing of travelling the world, I settled to the business of story-telling, guided by little more than my own gut feeling about what was exciting, what was intriguing, what was important, what would make readers open their eyes wide and say ‘Gosh, I never knew that; how fascinating.’ And, luckily, it’s worked. Sometimes I still have to pinch myself to realise that I’ve published 50 or so books and innumerable press features, radio and TV scripts. I’m sometimes asked what is my favourite book. Of course, the immediate answer is ‘the one I’m working on’; there wouldn’t be much point in doing it if it didn’t grab me. But, inevitably, certain projects stand out in the memory: Interviewing members of three great commercial dynasties – Rothschilds, Astors and Guinnesses – for books which became international bestsellers: Sailing on a tall ship to gain something of that unique feeling of claustrophobia and space which is life in a small vessel or an empty ocean (The Circumnavigators – Best Book of the Sea Award, 1978): Ferreting in archives to piece together the remarkable history of the Dudley family (Uncrowned Kings of England): Sharing platforms with other leading historians at Hampton Court, the British Library and elsewhere during the celebrations of the 500th anniversary of Henry VIII’s accession (A Brief History of Henry VIII, Reformer and Tyrant): Crowded days in Russia and discovering how a 17th-18th century tyrant continues to shape the self-identification of the people (Peter the Great). Then there have been the quiet hours, sometimes on foot or horseback over Exmoor giving the imagination breathing space to develop fiction plots (Not all my stories are about real people and events).
Yet, over the years, one of the most pleasurable experiences has been receiving feedback from people who have read my books or heard me speak at literary festivals. Writing is a solitary business and to hear from those who have comments or questions or stories to tell about their own researches is a welcome contact with the ‘real world’. I hope anyone reading this will feel that he/she can always contact me. I’ll always do my best to answer.
To enquire about my availability as speaker or journalist, please contact me directly on: enquiries@derekwilson.com
The English Reformation: Religion, Politics & Fear: How England Was Transformed by the Tudors
Robinson, BHO series, p/b June 2012, ISBN 978 1 84529 646 9, £8.99
Derek brings the fruits of several years’ thought and passion to unravelling the complex political, religious and social issues underlying the most momentous change in British history. His is the first analytical survey of all the evidence for almost a quarter of a century. The result is the type of book his readers have come to expect – detailed, accurate and thoroughly readable.
‘Masterly. [Wilson] has a deep understanding of … characters, reaching out across the centuries.’ Sunday Times
