For their next books, three prominent historical novelists are sticking with their genre roots

Several well-known historical novelists have announced their next books in recent weeks, and I found it especially interesting to see they're returning to (or in one case, staying with) the historical era and/or theme of their most popular books.

Just after the Frankfurt Book Fair began last week, Philippa Gregory's publishing team began getting the word out about her next historical, to be called Boleyn Traitor, focusing on Jane (Parker) Boleyn, the controversial sister-in-law of Anne who was rumored to have played a role in the downfall of two of Henry VIII's queens. Gregory has written about Jane before (she was a viewpoint character in her 2006 novel The Boleyn Inheritance) but the articles about the announcement refer mainly to her The Other Boleyn Girl (2001), her first biographical novel, whose huge success prompted a Tudor renaissance, so to speak, in the genre. 

2001: such a long time ago now.  This is making me feel old.

The pub date for Boleyn Traitor (HarperCollins) is a year from now, October 2025. Will this new book be any different, or just an extended version of the same story of Jane's life previously told?  We'll have to see, but I imagine there'll be some new interpretation.  It will be the first in a three-book series. Perhaps this means, also, that her Fairmile series, about the rise of an ordinary family in the 17th century, is officially complete at three books.

Not much to see here, really; these are the publishers' placeholder
covers, not the final ones.

Another novelist with strong roots in the 16th century is staying there; Alison Weir's next book, out in May 2025, will be The Cardinal, about Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, the English statesman who became Henry VIII's chief adviser and the mentor to his successor, Thomas Cromwell.  Wolsey tumbled from power during the king's attempt to secure a divorce from Katharine of Aragon. This will be Weir's first full biographical novel about someone who isn't a member of a royal family, though he will certainly be a familiar name to readers of Tudor fiction. Nearly all of Weir's novels have been about Henry VIII and his relatives, and since I've reviewed nearly all her recent books for Booklist, I'd been curious to see whether she'd be choosing someone new from the era or moving on to something else.  The publishers are Ballantine (US/Canada) and Headline Review (UK).

Also just announced, Ken Follett's newly revealed Circle of Days takes place far back in the past, much earlier than his previous books, but like his breakout historical The Pillars of the Earth (from way back in 1989), it centers on the vision and building of a significant historical structure: Stonehenge.  Edward Rutherfurd has imagined this event in his Sarum, and Cecelia Holland in Pillar of the Sky, among others, but that won't stop me from reading Follett's version. It will be out in September 2025 from Grand Central (US/Canada) and Quercus (UK).

All three of these books will be highly promoted and will reach many readers who are already eagerly anticipating them. Will this translate into another Tudor (or even a prehistoric) fiction trend?  It's doubtful, but if you enjoy novels set in earlier time periods, you'll have these to look forward to next year.

Julia Park Tracey's Silence examines women's agency in Puritan-era Massachusetts

Steeped in the language and mores of an earlier time, Julia Park Tracey’s meditative and defiantly life-affirming novel Silence follows a young woman punished for speaking her mind during a period of immense personal trauma.

A member of a Separatist Puritan community in seaside Hingham, Massachusetts in 1722, Silence Marsh, the gentle daughter of the village weaver, enjoys a playful, loving relationship with her husband David, a local constable. Then, in rapid, tragic succession, Silence endures the losses of three adored family members, a situation that sees her returning to live with her widowed father in her childhood home. After an outburst in church when she questions a chastening sermon and the purpose of a God who would cause her such grief, authorities sentence her to a series of humiliating public acts as well as a full year of enforced silence, with threats of worse if she doesn’t obey.

Over the subsequent months, Silence – unable to communicate verbally – looks inward, noting the people who shun her and pass judgment (like the parson’s sour-tongued wife) as well as those who see her suffering and try to help. Among the latter is Daniel Greenleaf, a physician from Boston who recommends walks in the fresh air and reading novels. The secret friendship between Silence and the parson’s preteen daughter also raises both their spirits.

Silence’s first-person narrative has the cadences of early New England colonial speech without feeling overly archaic. Finely crafted details on household items, duties, and people’s roles in the community add to the historical atmosphere. (One quibble: the dour royal magistrate, a frighteningly realistic figure, should be called “Sir George,” not “Sir Fellows.”) Silence’s philosophical struggles feel true to the time: a woman discovering her voice in a society that denies its value. Even her father, while caring and sympathetic, insists that she conform, heed the authorities, and accept her penance.

But: “I know your religion’s great men call for treating the bodily humours and for obeying the will of God, but God has given us the great gift of free will to learn and grow,” Dr. Greenleaf tells her. He perceives her melancholia as an illness, not the manifestation of sin, and explains that he wants to treat her accordingly. The novel explores, with carefulness and great compassion, how Silence begins to wrap her mind around this unfamiliar concept, one completely opposite to her religious upbringing. In this, Silence embodies all women trapped in a cruel, repressive situation as she slowly gains the wisdom and courage – and burning fury – to break away from it.

In the end, as accusations of witchcraft swirl through Hingham, Silence must decide how to use her voice, or whether she should use it at all. There are no simple answers, but Silence, after the most painful year of her life, knows the importance of making her own choice.

Silence was published by Sibylline Press, a publisher focusing on works by women over 50, in September; my thanks to them for the review copy. The main character is based on the author's 7th great-grandmother.

Kimberly Brock's The Fabled Earth unfolds a multilayered mystery surrounding Georgia's Cumberland Island

In her third novel, Brock (The Lost Book of Eleanor Dare, 2022) proves marvelously adept at intertwining mythic stories with contemporary reality and showing how people reconcile the two.

In 1959, illustrator Cleo Woodbine has lived alone on a tiny isle near Georgia’s Cumberland Island ever since the terrible events of one long-ago summer. When she receives a mailed obituary for a woman she knew back then, it rocks her world and introduces her to others seeking connection, including Frances Flood, the late woman’s daughter, and young, widowed innkeeper Audrey Howell. Their viewpoints alternate alongside Cleo’s experiences in 1932, when a night of storytelling around a bonfire culminated in two young men’s drownings and the potential sighting of a river siren.

While tackling issues of race and class prejudice, Brock’s lush, multi-layered writing begs to be read slowly as she gently unfolds the mysteries of this picturesque yet haunted Southern landscape, where once-elegant Carnegie mansions still stand. An ideal choice for admirers of Delia Owens, Sarah Loudin Thomas, and Sarah Addison Allen.

The Fabled Earth is published this month by Harper Muse, and I originally wrote this review for Booklist's September 15th issue. Doesn't this novel have a gorgeous cover?  You can read more about the Carnegie mansions on Cumberland Island, and see photos of the beautiful landscape, via this blog post written by Vann Helms.

Victoria Thompson's Murder in Rose Hill delves into Gilded Age medical cures and family dynamics

Anyone conducting research in Gilded Age news archives will note the proliferation of ads for patent medicines: concoctions promoted as cure-alls for myriad ailments. The industry was notoriously unregulated, with many such products either ineffective or dangerously addictive.

Set in 1901 Manhattan, Murder in Rose Hill homes in on this interesting subject. Louisa Rodgers, secretary and would-be journalist at New Century magazine, has been found strangled in her workplace’s lobby, days after the young woman had interviewed former midwife Sarah Malloy at her charity clinic, requesting background for a planned exposé about these tonics. Frank Malloy, private investigator and ex-police detective, is hired by Louisa’s distraught father since the cops dismiss the case as a random attack.

This cozy mystery presents the investigative process as a family affair, with Sarah, Frank, their nanny/secretary Maeve, and her beau Gino hustling through the city, pursuing leads and trying to suss out who’s lying. There’s parental involvement, too, with both Mother Malloy and Sarah’s society-maven mother, Elizabeth, contributing entertainingly astute observations. Besides the intricate process of determining motive, one gripping subplot involves the Malloys’ piecing together of Louisa’s character. “What an odd family,” Frank thinks about the Rodgerses after he meets them all and sees how Louisa’s independent streak stirred up resentment. Louisa’s relatives, her boss, a coworker, and patent medicine manufacturers, among others, land on the suspect list.

Readers won’t have trouble getting oriented if they start with this 27th volume in the Gaslight Mysteries, though the constantly revolving viewpoint takes some getting used to, and Sarah flirting with her husband on the doorstep of Louisa’s funeral feels awkward. Long-time followers of the series may not mind, and the book takes a well-researched look at social and health issues from the era, specifically those affecting older women.

Murder in Rose Hill was published in late April by Berkley, and I'd reviewed it for the Historical Novels Review's August issue. I happened to be researching in old newspapers for a work project at the time I read it, which led to a nice tie-in with the novel. Sadly, Victoria Thompson passed away on August 23rd from cancer. In addition to her long-running Gaslight Mysteries (the first of which was published in 1999), she also authored the Counterfeit Lady novels featuring a female con artist in Gilded Age New York.