When I meet Emma Richardson on a crisp January morning at a café near her home in Bath, she's already deep in conversation with the barista about the establishment's history. This is typical Emma—endlessly curious about the stories embedded in places, always searching for connections between past and present.
Her passion for history isn't academic detachment. It's personal, visceral, driven by a belief that understanding where we've been is essential to knowing where we're going. This philosophy permeates every page of her novels, which transport readers to meticulously reconstructed historical worlds while addressing thoroughly modern questions about power, identity, and resilience.
The Research Obsession
"People assume historical fiction is about making things up," Emma laughs, stirring her tea. "Actually, it's about finding the truth within the facts. I spend months, sometimes years, researching before I write a single word of narrative."
For her latest novel, that research included poring over court records, medical journals, and hundreds of letters written by Victorian women. She walked the streets of Whitechapel at dawn to understand how light falls on old buildings. She learned to embroider using period-appropriate techniques. She even took a course in Victorian etiquette to understand the unspoken rules that governed her characters' world.
This commitment to authenticity extends to language. Emma keeps detailed notes on when specific words entered common usage, what slang her characters would have known, how sentence structure reflected class and education. "Nothing breaks immersion faster than an anachronistic phrase," she explains. "Your unconscious mind knows something's wrong even if you can't pinpoint what."
Writing Women Back Into History
Emma's protagonists are almost always women—not because she's uninterested in male perspectives, but because women's stories have been systematically erased from historical narratives. "We know about kings and generals and industrialists," she says. "But what about the seamstress who worked sixteen-hour days? The midwife who delivered half the babies in her neighbourhood? The actress navigating a profession that sat on the edge of respectability?"
These aren't stories about victims waiting to be rescued. Emma's heroines are complex, flawed, strategic. They work within oppressive systems while quietly subverting them. They form alliances, build networks, find agency in spaces others wouldn't think to look.
"Victorian women had far less official power than men, but that doesn't mean they were powerless," Emma explains. "They were incredibly creative in finding ways to influence their world. That's what fascinates me—how people survive and even thrive within unjust systems."
Why Historical Fiction Matters Now
When I ask Emma about the contemporary relevance of historical fiction, her answer is immediate and passionate. "We're living through extraordinary times—political upheaval, technological transformation, questions about what kind of society we want to build. None of this is new. Humans have been grappling with these questions for millennia."
"Historical fiction," she continues, "gives us perspective. It shows us that the challenges we face aren't unique, that people have survived worse and built something better. It also reminds us that progress isn't inevitable—every generation has to fight for it."
She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "There's a tendency to romanticise the past or dismiss it as irrelevant. Both are dangerous. The past was messy, unjust, often brutal. But it also contained beauty, wisdom, and remarkable human courage. If we can't learn from both sides of that ledger, we're doomed to keep making the same mistakes."
Advice for Aspiring Writers
Emma has taught creative writing workshops for years, and I ask what advice she gives to aspiring historical novelists. "First, fall in love with your period," she says. "You're going to spend years inhabiting this world. If you're not genuinely fascinated by it, that will show in your writing."
"Second, respect your readers. Don't info-dump. Trust that they'll pick up period details through context and atmosphere. Your job isn't to lecture—it's to create an experience."
"And third," she adds with a smile, "remember that historical fiction is still fiction. Research is essential, but ultimately you're telling a story. The past is your setting, not your plot. The human questions—love, betrayal, ambition, redemption—are timeless."
What's Next
Emma is currently researching her next novel, set in Edwardian England on the eve of World War I. She's tight-lipped about plot details but mentions she's particularly interested in the period's suffragettes and the complex relationship between different wings of the movement.
"It's another moment of massive social transformation," she explains. "Old certainties crumbling, new possibilities emerging. Women demanding the vote, workers organizing for rights, artists breaking every rule. And all of it about to be shattered by a war that would change everything."
As our conversation winds down, I ask Emma what she hopes readers take away from her books. She thinks for a moment before answering.
It's a fitting conclusion to our conversation with a writer who has dedicated her career to bridging past and present, reminding us that history isn't something that happened to other people—it's the story of us all.
Emma Richardson's latest novel, "The Gaslight Chronicles," is available now. Join our book club discussion of her work on January 28th.