What does literary escapism look like in a pandemic?

In 2005, novelist Peter May found himself in quite the conundrum – how does one write the next bestseller? When his sixth book made mediocre waves in the industry, he was dropped by his publishers. When his next two books, The Blackhouse and Extraordinary People failed to find a home, he needed a plot that would sell. What story could do just that? Perhaps a pandemic thriller?

He envisioned a plot where bird flu (which scientists had predicted to be the next pandemic) had shut down a major city. May mulled over capitals in his mind. He first flirted with the idea of Beijing and then Paris but, of course, he settled on London, what better setting is there for chaos to unravel in.

Over 15 years ago, publishers weren’t entirely on May’s wavelength. “A virus reaching half a million civilians in a locked-down London” wasn’t a tale that they imagined would fly off the shelf, it was a tad too far-fetched – readers crave relatability, regardless of genre. It turned out that May wasn’t wrong, just ahead of the curve. Come 2020, his former publishers eat their words as his new publishers, Quercus, printed Lockdown, May’s novel, in April of 2020.

When dystopia becomes a reality in books like Lockdown – does the novel lose its function as escapism? And what does escapism look like during a pandemic in the first place?

For some readers, pandemic tales were best left to headlines and politicians. They took their literature with a slice of normality and human connection, (or rather nostalgia). Take Beth O’Leary’s best-selling, The Switch, also published in April 2020. The Switch tells the story of a city girl and her Yorkshire dwelling grandma. The unlikely duo switch lives, both in need of a change and both finding new loves along the way. The small-town tales of Hamleigh-in-Harksdale hardly involve pistols at dawn or chasing a fugitive down a dark street, but it was a tonic, selling over 125,000 copies within its first month.

Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet (not to be confused with Shakespeare’s Hamlet) joined the ranks too, winning Waterstones Book of the Year. Hamnet flies the reader back to 1596 and tells the story of twins and marriage but most importantly, the story of a boy whose name, while forgotten, inspired one of the greatest plays ever written.

If a stint back in time wasn’t appealing, somewhere imaginary may just be the ticket. Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library, the winner of Goodreads Best Fiction, is the story of a girl whisked away to a mythical library where she can choose different life paths.

The storylines of these best-selling and award-winning books vary, but they have one thing in common; no matter the page count, they reach a finale. Location and genre are irrelevant. Escapism has evolved beyond geography and into a sentiment; one of resolution.

May had request after request for a sequel because readers need to know “how the pandemic will play out?”. This question is as common in reality as it is in fiction, but a literary resolution has the advantage of being possible.

Perhaps the two-fifths of UK adults who are reading more since lockdown started, don’t have a destination in mind when they dive into a book, but a conclusion. The book can be closed, the final page can be reached, and the reader can start anew. After living out endless Groundhog days, that is the escapism readers crave.

It’s the great literary escape.