Rediscovering Historical Fiction

I’ve always been a fan of historical romances. The elegance of ballroom dances, the weight of aristocratic titles, the tension between old and new money, the delicate servant dynamics that quietly shaped society - it fascinated me. Then there were the little details that made the stories come alive: the wallflowers lingering on the sidelines, the charming rake who couldn’t be tamed, and the scholarly lord with spectacles who cared more for his books than for the rules of the ton.

Then there were the fortune hunters, the ambitious mamas determined to secure titled lords for their daughters, perfect debutantes whose biggest rebellion is stitching an extra rose into their embroidery, those late-night illicit trysts that could ruin reputations forever, two men of different ranks vying for the same woman after a remarkable transformation, and the mysterious recluse lord hiding from society.

The impoverished aristocrats struggling to maintain appearances, the outcast trying to reclaim her place, the wide-eyed debutante in her first season - all of these tropes captivated me. Not to mention the scandalous stories: the couple married only seven months yet already parents to a one-month-old baby, the lord who conveniently forgets to mention his mistress even after his wedding vows, the young woman who escapes to the countryside to hide her pregnancy, the “spare” suddenly becoming the heir. I loved the stories about the tomboy who sneaks into men’s worlds disguised in trousers, the clever young woman who devours books but can’t string a sentence in a crowded room, and the infamous villain who lurks in the background, green with envy.

This world was my escape. So, when Bridgerton was announced, I was thrilled. It promised everything I adored. The first season was a delight - different in some ways from how I’d imagined, but it captured the essence. Then came season two, and that’s when my enthusiasm began to wane. Suddenly, the stories felt repetitive, like echoes of every novel I had read before. I needed something new - something that offered the same richness but with a different flavor.

And then, I found it. Or rather, it found me.

The Gilded Age

It turns out, that something was just around the corner. When I stumbled upon The Gilded Age, it felt like a gift. I can only imagine the frustration of those who watched the first season when it aired, waiting patiently for the next - because this show is the kind you want to binge without pause.

Set in 1880s New York, it captures a society in transition. Old-money families cling desperately to their traditions while the bold, ambitious new-money elite rise with unstoppable energy. At the center of it all are the Russells, who have just built a palatial home on Fifth Avenue and are determined to claim their place among the city’s most exclusive circles.

The Gilded Age doesn’t stop at lavish balls and grand mansions. It threads in stories that make the world feel alive - Marian, trying to figure out where love fits in a world obsessed with rules and appearances. Ada, finding love later in life only to have it slip away. Downstairs, the servants have their own battles - one of them holding on to a clock design that could change his life, while others quietly fight for influence in households where every gesture matters. Even the butlers from the Van Rhijn and Russell homes can’t help but clash, their own little war playing out behind the scenes. And then there’s Oscar - charming, ambitious, and completely blindsided when a pair of con artists leaves him, and his family fortune, in shambles. Among the most compelling storylines for me is the connection between Peggy and Mr. Fortune. Their scenes had a magnetic pull - the quiet intensity, the shared ambition, the unspoken tension - and their chemistry was undeniable. Peggy, sharp and determined, proving herself as a reporter in a world that underestimates her, and Fortune, just as ambitious, chasing stories that could change everything. Every time they shared the screen, it felt electric - two people drawn together by passion for their work. In the process, they cross a line neither expected, and their affair adds a layer of complexity that lingers long after the scene fades. Every storyline feels alive and connected, and that’s what makes the show so addictive for me. It’s about ambition, love, secrets, and how far people will go to get what they want.

The Buccaneers

The Buccaneers takes a slower, more intimate approach to historical drama, but it’s no less gripping. At the heart of it is Nan, caught in a love triangle between Theo, the Duke of Tintagel, and Guy Thwart, Theo’s closest friend. When Nan confides a life-altering secret to Guy and he walks away, she feels abandoned - and in a moment of heartbreak, accepts Theo’s proposal after only meeting him twice.

Meanwhile, Conchita, vibrant, bold and unapologetically American, struggles to fit into her new life in England. The very qualities her husband adored now make her an outsider, and her fiery spirit constantly clashes with the suffocating rules of her new world - and her disapproving in-laws.

Then there’s Jinny, whose marriage to Lord Seadown turns into a nightmare of manipulation and cruelty. His gaslighting and abuse slowly unravel her confidence, leaving her a shadow of herself - which ultimately cements Nan's decision to marry Theo.

Belgravia

The story begins with a dazzling ball on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo - an evening that sets the stage for everything that unfolds in the rest of the season. The pace is brisk; within the first episode, decades pass. But instead of feeling rushed, it cuts straight to the heart of the drama. Secrets buried for years rise to the surface, love collides with duty, and reputations hang by a thread.

Belgravia delivered what I craved: complex characters, old scandals resurfacing, and the eternal tug-of-war between class and desire. 

I have a newfound appreciation for Julian fellowes so I went in search of more films like The Gilded Age. I found The Paradise, The Crown, The Knick, Masters of Sex, and, of course, Downton Abbey. If they offer even a fraction of what The Gilded Age and Belgravia gave me, I know I’m in for something special.

For now, though, I’m savoring every detail of these period dramas, grateful for the fresh perspective they’ve brought into my historical fiction journey. After all, sometimes, you don’t fall out of love with a genre - you just need the right story to bring you back.