Fictionalizing the life of any historical figure is always a delicate thing. At least, it should be. I have read several biographical novels myself and have not always been pleased with the outcome. There is a particular respect that is required, in addition to the writer’s own admiration or admonishment of the subject. The author’s overall opinion of the real-life person they are bringing back to life becomes the basis of their personal point-of-view.

For “Fate,” these things got a little complicated. I admired the composer and his work a bit too much and often had to take a step back from my personal feelings. I needed to be purposely judgmental and even critical of his behavior in certain situations while still considering the ways of the late eighteenth-century in Europe. Like any human being he was far from perfect and if my novel was going to be true to him it also had to be realistic. He was famously neurotic and withdrawn but clearly had other sides to his personality, as all people do. He could not have engaged in so many (confirmed) sexual situations if he was withdrawn with every person all the time. I had to present a balance of his known temperaments while placing him in the situations we now know took place. Time period, social norms, historical accounts, diary entries, and the composer’s own sensitivity had to be constantly considered. This is what I strove for in my writing.

An obvious example is Tchaikovsky’s attraction to male youths. I could not write about it by using today’s standards because it would have created a very different character, one who would be thought of as a pedophile.  My story had no chance of being acceptable if the protagonist was despised by the reader. It was important that the reader understand that the time period presented was that of a very different world.  Europe and Russia had a society that was culturally different from the U.S. in the twenty-first-century. Yes Tchaikovsky was homosexual, but sexual interaction with boys was the practice of heterosexual males as well, and was commonplace. Young male servants were expected to attend to their master’s sexual needs. The reason this practice was accepted was because (like in fifteenth-century Florence) pre-pubescent boys were not thought of as male. In fact, they were considered almost female. Granted, Tchaikovsky was attracted to male youths because of his homosexuality but undoubtedly took some comfort in knowing that this behavior was going on everywhere even as he battled his own demons.

I admit that I “cleaned up” the events of his life in my novel so as not to offend too many readers, and to make the finished novel one that I also could be proud of. I accepted that Tchaikovsky was the way he was, and knew that to cover it up would make the story a falsehood. (Fortunately, by following the truth the flow of events near the end of the composer’s life presented themselves to me and enabled me an ending that I believed it.) An example of my clean-up is the way I avoided including a sexual scene between Tchaikovsky and his servant, Aleksei Sofronov. While it would have been more than appropriate, the scene would have come too early in the story and been misunderstood by the reader; they would not yet understand the characters, the society, or circumstances in which my story was gradually immersing them.

Beyond the sexual “minefield” that I had to tiptoe through, there were other interesting things about bringing Tchaikovsky to life in such a realistic way. By following an actual calendar of his composing work, musical debuts, concert schedule, and travels, I was able to follow along with the events of his life as they happened. For instance, while he was engrossed in composing one work, another work that he had completed a year or two before would require his attendance at its actual performance. Such was his life…always moving forward but constantly revisiting past creative endeavors at the same time. I had never thought of this before.

Finally, I’d like to touch on a comment made recently. The reader was curious as to how much of the story was fiction and how much was true. The entire story is my own of course, the dialogue, thoughts, descriptions, and point of view all subject to my interpretation of the composer’s life. As for which scenes are taken from actual events, let me just say that all of the ballet history is absolutely true as well as the locations of where (and when) Tchaikovsky’s musical compositions were created.

I used very little creative license in regard to the characters, sticking to what was already known about their personalities. I ended up only needing to invent three and only for use in telling the story. The more intimate scenes are of course from my imagination as there would be no moment by moment accounts of these, not even in his diaries.

Readers might think that the scene inside the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel between Pyotr, Modeste, Aleksei, and Kolya was my creation alone but it is from an actual, historical account. So is the scene in Paris where Pyotr picks up a negro (his words, not mine) on the Champs-Elysee for a sexual tryst.  With so much to work with I did not have to fabricate more than about five percent of the entire story. As for the ending, let’s just say it appeared on its own as a result of never straying from the path of Tchaikovsky’s life–and my research of it. For me it was the only logical way (of the many versions out there) of how Tchaikovsky’s death came about.

(Spoiler: I learned much about of Tchaikovsky’s life through his letters to other people, especially to his brother, Modeste. Therefore, during the times that he and Modeste are together their mutual correspondences cease to exist, giving me little to go on. This is when I had no choice but to fabricate the missing parts. Sometimes Tchaikovsky’s diaries filled in nicely in leiu of the correspondences, like in the case of Bonaparte the pimp. None of my accounts of Bonaparte were fabricated, although I’m certain readers must think they are! Truth can be stranger than fiction, you know.)

All the best, Adin Dalton