Raymond Wemmlinger's The Queen's Rival tells the story of a little-known Tudor heir

Tudormania has come and gone, but the era remains popular, and many individuals’ stories remain obscure. Such is the case with Lady Margaret Clifford, a noblewoman in the line of succession to Henry VIII’s throne; she was his grandniece, and first cousin to the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey.

At the outset of this lively account of her younger years, sixteen-year-old Margaret is aghast at her father’s suggestion that she consider marrying Sir Andrew Dudley, an undistinguished member of a powerful family, at her cousin Edward VI’s behest – even stomping her foot in a show of petulance. Not long after, Sir Andrew himself pays a visit to her home at Brougham Castle in northwestern England, bringing opulent gifts and ambitions she finds too irresistible to refuse.

Her superficiality and capriciousness aren’t perhaps the best introduction to a historical figure, but over the course of this short novel, Wemmlinger succeeds in showing, over time, how Margaret matures and wises up to the dangers she faces as a royal heir.

After Edward VI dies, Margaret’s marriage plans crumble, and as the country’s political and religious winds shift with the ascent of Mary I, Margaret finds herself trapped, far away from home, as one of the queen’s ladies in waiting. Here, she’s forced to remain on Queen Mary’s good side, which she skillfully manages, but she finds court life boring and wonders if she’ll ever be allowed to wed.

The straightforward narration and familiarity with the well-detailed historical background make for a quick, involving read. Particularly moving is Margaret’s growing empathy for her late mother, Eleanor Brandon, who died in her late twenties. While the premise that many young Tudors were poisoned by rival claimants is the author’s invention, it remains true that survival was precarious in these treacherous times.

Wemmlinger's first novel was Booth's Daughter (2007), biographical fiction about Edwina Booth, daughter of Edwin, a noted American actor of his day, and niece of John Wilkes.  It's a book I'm interested in reading, after reading Karen Joy Fowler's Booth recently.  His online bio at his publisher, Sapere Books, notes that he's long been an aficionado of the Tudors, especially royal women who have gone overlooked. This was a personal purchase that I'd reviewed initially for the May issue of Historical Novels Review, and there are currently three more in the series.  I'd gladly read another.  The later life of Margaret Clifford (later Margaret Stanley) arguably reflects the book's title better than this storyline does.

The latest trend in historical fiction: the 1960s

Has everyone come around to the realization that novels written now and set in the '60s are considered historical fiction?  Even more, this tumultuous era is the hottest thing in the genre, with themes zeroing in on civil rights, the counterculture movement, women's empowerment in the workplace and at home, and the Vietnam War.  One of my guest contributors had called this, over a decade ago, and if you haven't read Richard Sharp's engaging essay "The Sixties: The New Frontier for Historical Fiction," I think you'll find it rings just as true today.  "There are many shelves to fill," he wrote (in 2014) about the scarcity of fiction that grappled with the complexity of the era. Now, it seems, an increasing number of authors are beginning to do so, recreating the fabric of the times for readers who didn't live through it (as well as those who did).  The fourteen novels below focus on women's experiences, generally speaking. Needless to say, many social issues from the '60s are still very relevant.

In 1965, a cast of suburban women struggles with complex personal and family issues, with unexpected changes arising after a pregnant teen moves in with a Jewish couple and their family, in order to help out after they learn they're expecting a second child.  Harper, June 2025.

Friendship, jealousy, competition, and betrayal form the backdrop to the complicated relationship between two female writers in the star-studded atmosphere of 1960s Los Angeles.  Berkley, August 2025.

Members of book club for suburban housewives in early '60s Virginia awaken to the empowering possibilities of feminism after reading and sharing thoughts about Betty Friedan's groundbreaking and controversial new book, The Feminine Mystique. Harper Muse, April 2025.

After Ruth Feldman overstays her welcome at her daughter-in-law's home, the two women, both widows grieving their late husbands, struggle to get along but may find a way of moving forward in quietly playing matchmaker for the other.  Gently humorous family-centered fiction set in 1963.  Lake Union, August 2025.

Summer by the water on sun-kissed Martha's Vineyard: what could be more relaxing?  Not so much for a Columbia grad student who returns home at her mother's request and uncovers old family secrets; a split-time novel (1965 and 1978). Gallery, July 2025.

Graham, a bestselling Canadian novelist, sets her latest novel in '67 Toronto and overseas in Vietnam as two women living in the same apartment building deal with personal, political, and social turmoil in the city they call home. Simon & Schuster Canada, April 2025.

In this novel of survival and resilience, set in 1967, an independent young woman who can see ghosts returns to her long-estranged ancestral home in Arkansas, meets up with a Vietnam vet, and finds herself unexpectedly craving interpersonal connections. Kensington, March 2025.

Promoted as "a love letter to uncivilized behavior," Healy's debut novel, set in 1964, features a young woman in sleepy small-town Maine who stumbles upon a series of domestic mysteries that soon escalate into serious trouble. Sounds fun.  Putnam, July 2025.

A young college student in Jim Crow-era Georgia and her daughter, a professional woman in 1992 Chicago, decide what risks to take in the interest of racial justice.  William Morrow, February 2025.

The illustrated cover art for Knight's new historical has a cool vibe. The sexist, male-dominated publishing industry in 1960s New York may have met its match in copyeditor Bernadette Swift, who strives to become a CEO.  Sourcebooks, June 2025.

In this dual-period family drama set in 1968 and the present day, a modern genealogical researcher looking into her mother's family tree uncovers generations-old secrets in a small North Carolina town.  Lake Union, February 2025.

Doris Steele, a Black teenager in 1960s Georgia who's shocked to realize she's expecting a baby, travels to Atlanta with her former teacher for an abortion and has her eyes opened wide to experiences that would be considered scandalous back home.  Random House, June 2025.

There may be a bit of magic in this tale of self-discovery and hope featuring a grieving mother in an abusive marriage in small-town Tennessee whose world opens up after she begins employment as a cook at a local diner.  Set in 1969. Harper Muse, September 2025.

Each of the six teenage girls in Wayward Girls was confined to the Good Shepherd Catholic reform school in 1968 Buffalo, New York, for different reasons, and forced to work in the institution's laundry. Can they band together to pursue justice and set themselves free?  William Morrow, July 2025.

Tragedy and resilience in Vanessa Miller's The Filling Station

In the early 20th century, the Greenwood district of Tulsa, Oklahoma, was home to numerous Black-owned businesses and a thriving African American community. Then came the devastation beginning on the night of May 31, 1921, when white supremacist mobs – including local law enforcement – rampaged and burned the entire neighborhood and killed dozens of residents.

In a novel evoking both the worst and most generous impulses of human nature, Vanessa Miller shines a light on the aftermath of the Tulsa Race Massacre, laying bare the survivors’ long, hard-fought road to regain strength and faith.

Margaret and Evelyn Justice, daughters of a prosperous grocery store owner, are young women with dreams; Margaret plans to start teaching high school history, while Evie, a talented eighteen-year-old seamstress, wants to become a clothing designer. Left homeless after the fires, their beloved father missing, the sisters start walking out of town and land at the Threatt Filling Station (a real place on Route 66), which their Daddy had recognized as a safe haven for Black travelers.

The proprietors, Mr. Allen and Mrs. Alberta Threatt, take in Margaret and Evie. The sisters have always been close, but their lives soon begin diverging. Margaret determines to see Greenwood rise again, wanting to rebuild as soon as possible, while Evie feels too scared to ever return.

The roadblocks they encounter (insurance denials are just the beginning) are infuriating, though Margaret is bolstered by the support of the Threatts and a caring farmer, Elijah, who has great faith in God. Through Miller’s skillful writing, we see the filling station not only as a notable landmark, one deserving of all Americans’ attention, but as a superb metaphor for the people and places that replenish the spirit, if we have the courage to let them in. Definitely recommended.

I reviewed The Filling Station for May's Historical Novels Review; the novel was published by Thomas Nelson in March. This novel and its subject exemplify how the past is still very much with us.  A few days ago, on June 1, 2025, the mayor of Tulsa announced a plan of reparations, in the amount of $105 million, to go toward restoring the Greenwood neighborhood (which was later termed "Black Wall Street") and the devastating impact its destruction had, and continues to have, on residents. 

There are two living survivors of the massacre, aged 110 and 111, both of whom had made statements included within a report undertaken by the Department of Justice's Civil Rights Division and published this past January.  This report, which you can read in full online, concluded that the attack was "systematic and coordinated," contradicting the original, cursory 1921 report that called it uncontrolled mob violence. This report marked the first full accounting of the event by the DOJ, over a century after it happened.  

The Threatt Filling Station, Luther, OK
credit: Melodibit, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The Threatt Filling Station in Luther, Oklahoma, is on the National Register of Historic Places and was also listed as one of America's 11 Most Endangered Places by the National Trust for Historical Preservation in 2021.  The family runs a foundation and website at https://threattfillingstation.org. 

An illustrious American family and its stain: Karen Joy Fowler's Booth

The 19th-century Booth family had once been known by the American public for something other than their second youngest son’s heinous act.

To give us back the historical context that's been eclipsed by his notoriety, Karen Joy Fowler purposefully avoids making John Wilkes, the assassin of President Lincoln, the center of attention in her profusely detailed work of biographical fiction. She does this by alternating the viewpoints among three of his siblings.

They are: oldest daughter Rosalie, a modest and dreamy teenager who settles into a future where her personal choices are erased; the adventurous Edwin, who rises to become a prominent actor but can’t seem to outrun his unstable father’s shadow; and Asia, a prickly, temperamental young woman and a loyal sister.

Beginning in 1822, their family life in a two-room log cabin, thirty miles northeast of Baltimore, is highly eventful. The father, Junius Booth, is a famous Shakespearean actor, a strict vegetarian who alternates between drunkenness and sobriety both on stage and off. Their mother Mary Ann, a former Drury Lane flower seller, is perpetually pregnant. They have ten children in all, including the four dead ones whose ghosts only Rosalie can sense.  Fowler shows how their birth order affects their outlook and upbringing.

There’s a good reason why the Booths’ cabin is so secluded, though the children don’t know it until much later. Still, they aren’t living alone in the woods, since their father employs a free Black man and leases other enslaved people to help with the farm. The fate of the Hall family – some enslaved, some free – intertwines with theirs.

Over time, we see firsthand how son John’s views on slavery diverge from that of his mother, who believes in the dignity of all people. A fortune-teller makes a chilling prophecy about John’s future, and it’s startling to realize that her words are repeated verbatim from history.

With its close documentation of the family’s day-to-day lives – the alliances, disruptions, scandals, and personal trials they face – the atmosphere is immersive. The pacing is steady, if plodding at times, and the characterizations of the individual Booths and America as a nation during a volatile era are standouts. I took a break midway through to read two other novels, but found myself drawn back to finish it, and am glad I did.

Booth was published by G.P. Putnam's Sons in 2022.  I'm slowly getting to reading long-outstanding books in my NetGalley queue, and this is one of them.

Alison Weir's The Cardinal presents the public and secret lives of Tudor statesman Thomas Wolsey

Born an innkeeper’s son, Thomas Wolsey rose spectacularly to become a Catholic cardinal and Henry VIII’s principal advisor. Weir’s (The Passionate Tudor, 2024) newest biographical novel departs from royal protagonists to present an intimate, adroitly multifaceted portrait of the man (here called Tom) who devoted his career to serving Henry’s interests but whose failure to engineer the annulment of Henry’s first marriage caused his disgrace.

Reliably meticulous, Weir takes readers through Tom’s growing influence, showing how his ambitions led him to the priesthood and how his acumen with foreign policy made him indispensable to Henry while igniting the nobility’s resentment. She dexterously interweaves the political and personal, like Tom’s love for his mistress Joan Larke, which he hates keeping secret, and his close, paternal friendship with Henry.

Through Weir’s controlled storytelling, readers’ sympathy for Tom fluctuates throughout; one admires his administrative brilliance while cringing at his astonishing accumulation of riches, which he feels he deserves. Weir plows familiar ground with Henry’s divorce from Katherine of Aragon, but seeing it from Tom’s viewpoint provides additional insights.

The Cardinal is published today by Ballantine in the US; Headline Review is the UK publisher.  I wrote this review for the May 1 issue of Booklist. 

Read more about the background to the novel on the author's website. There will be a related ebook, a short story called The Cardinal's Daughter, out for UK-only release on October 23. According to details posted to her page, Weir explains her publisher's reasoning for not offering her e-shorts for sale on Amazon.com directly. The earlier e-shorts published alongside her Six Tudor Queens novels can be purchased as a full-length book, In the Shadow of Queens, from UK retailers.

A forgotten Egyptian goddess: Rachel Louise Driscoll's The House of Two Sisters

Do you believe in curses? Might you be convinced of their reality if terrible things befell you and your family after an unheeded warning?

In Rachel Louise Driscoll’s elaborately woven debut, Clementine Attridge, daughter of an Egyptologist, was already inclined to accept the power of curses’ dark magic. Introverted yet strong-willed, Clemmie grew up immersed in myths, acting out scenarios about the sister-goddesses Isis and Nephthys during childhood playtime, and developed an expertise in hieroglyphs. At eighteen, she assists her father during his famous mummy-unwrapping parties: macabre entertainment for Victorian society gripped by all things Egyptian.

But after Clemmie translates the threatening inscription on an amulet found with an unusual mummified specimen, and her father disturbs the remains anyway, their lives are destroyed bit by bit. Five years later, she arrives in Cairo, desperate to hire a dahabeeyah – river barge – to carry her up the Nile and make amends before it’s too late.

The novel’s symbolism, drawing parallels between ancient deities and Clemmie’s family, is deep, rich, and extensive. It’s especially meaningful as it addresses Clemmie’s self-identification with the less-familiar sister: “For she is the Nephthys of her story, invisible and forgotten, and had she been a little more like Isis, then maybe her father would have listened to her.”

The storyline alternates between 1887 – the year of the “unwrapping” – and Clemmie’s journey in 1892, as she and a group of English visitors (whose company she reluctantly accepts) head upriver to Denderah. With the frequent circling back to five years ago and the time needed to establish context, the plot moves forward at a slowish pace, at least in the first half.

While the background detail will be catnip for Egyptology buffs (and cats are important characters!), the novel is as much an interior adventure as a voyage through the country and its storied culture. The characters, English and Egyptian, are a diverse sort, some more fully sketched than others. To allow for greater surprises, few specifics about the cast will be mentioned here, but the mythology provides hints.

For readers wanting to be transported into an earlier time, The House of Two Sisters places you amidst the Egyptomania craze of late 19th-century England and the exploitation of relics from the country’s past, both material and human. Moody and unsettling, this is a well-wrought Egyptian gothic with an echoing message about the ethics of people’s obsessions.

The House of Two Sisters will be published by Ballantine in June, and I read it from a NetGalley copy. The UK edition, published by Harvill Secker in February, is titled, very appropriately, Nephthys.

A Leg to Stand On, a guest post by Nell Joslin, author of Measure of Devotion

Nell Joslin, author of the Civil War-era novel Measure of Devotion (Regal House, May 2025). contributes a short essay about how validation for one's writing choices can arrive in unexpected ways.  

~

A Leg to Stand On

Nell Joslin

In the fall of 2015, I had been working on Measure of Devotion off and on for more than two years and was feeling discouraged about my ability to write anything worthwhile. It was a difficult time in general; not long before, I had lost my father and I was caring for my mother, then in the final year of her life.

Looking for inspiration, I decided to attend a Civil War reenactment of the battles of Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge. I scrounged up enough enthusiasm to buy a period costume, register as a spectator, and find a place to stay in the area near Chattanooga where the events would take place. I even paid for a ticket to the “ball” planned for the evening after the “battles.”

I soon saw that it was a mistake to think the reenactment would be helpful. The solitary nature of this jaunt, combined with my gloomy mood, piled loneliness on top of self-doubt. The war reenactors seemed even more wooden to me than the characters in my novel. And although many others were similarly attired, I felt foolish and awkward in my 1860s dress and shawl.



My characters are very loosely based on some much-revered ancestors. One of my great-grandfathers was gravely wounded at the hip in the Chattanooga area in 1863, but there most of his similarity with my book’s Civil War soldier ended. I had plucked the tiniest thread of the real story and taken it in a completely new direction. I was inventing wholly new people who did some very surprising—shocking—things. In the attempt to be creative, was I simply disrespectful? Blasphemous?

On the last evening of my visit in the reenactment area, I took a late afternoon walk along the little-traveled gravel road that ran in front of my cabin, trying to decide whether to begin the eight-hour drive back home or wait until the following morning.

I had been looking up at the darkening sky through the bare branches of trees, but suddenly something made me look down at my feet. There by the side of the road was the leg of a GI-Joe-type doll. No sign of the rest of the doll’s body, no other litter on the ground in this woodsy, tranquil setting.



I picked the leg up. The area around the hip bore a black smudge and the “ligament” which had attached it to the body was severed.

This, I decided, was a seal of affirmation. “Honey, this story is yours,” my long-ago great-grandfather was telling me. “You go ahead and write it any way you like.” And by golly, I would.

~

NELL JOSLIN is a native of Raleigh, North Carolina and received her MFA from North Carolina State University. Besides a fiction writer, she has been a public school teacher, medical librarian, copy editor, freelance journalist, stay-at-home mom and attorney (although not all at the same time). She currently lives in Raleigh. For more details, please see: Nell Joslin – Measure of Devotion

Review of Nicola Cornick's The Secrets of the Rose, set during the Jacobite Rebellion of 1715

Nicola Cornick writes dual-period novels about unjustly forgotten women where both narrative strands compel equally, which doesn’t happen often. Fans of Mary Stewart (Touch Not the Cat in particular), Anya Seton’s Devil Water, and Susanna Kearsley’s 18th-century epics will relish her latest, which tells the parallel stories of purported Jacobite heroine Dorothy Forster and a modern biographer who grew up in Dorothy’s family home.

Hannah Armstrong returns to Bamburgh Hall in Northumberland with plans to research local heroine Grace Darling but gets more intrigued by Dorothy, especially after finding Dorothy’s enigmatic portrait at the Hall, surrounded by Jacobite motifs. Hannah’s stepmother, Diana, initially encourages her interest in Dorothy but oddly changes her mind later. According to legend, Dorothy took a late-night ride to London to liberate her Jacobite brother from prison and held a fake funeral for him, abetting his escape, and Hannah wonders if this daring adventure was true.

In 1715, Dorothy, who oversees her ill father’s household, gets fed up with male power games after learning about a planned Jacobite rebellion that has her eldest brother, Tom, among the plotters. She foresees only disaster and fears retribution. A touch of mysticism enhances the rich atmosphere. In her youth, Dorothy shared a telepathic bond with a boy whose identity she never knew. Possibly it was the Earl of Derwentwater, her charming near-betrothed, or maybe it was blacksmith John Armstrong.

Various layers of Bamburgh’s thrilling history reveal themselves here, dating from periods before Uhtred’s Bebbanburgh through the present. Among other sites, we get to visit the imposing castle and rocky coastline, with gorgeous views of the Farne Islands in the distance. Both protagonists have haunting, slow-burning love stories, but the 1715 Rising itself is not romanticized. Rather, Cornick demonstrates the courage of women forced to confront turmoil caused by foolish men.

The Secrets of the Rose was published by Boldwood Books in February; I reviewed it from NetGalley for May's Historical Novels Review. Among the other novels by Nicola Cornick I've reviewed here are The Phantom Tree and The Other Gwyn Girl, and I'd interviewed the author about her House of Shadows in 2015.  I'm eager to see what she'll be writing about next.

Photos of Bamburgh Castle (2014), by Mark Johnson

It was a treat to read more about the history surrounding Bamburgh in Northumberland after having visited there in 2014. The photos just above were taken by my husband, and there are some more in his Flickr album. One day I hope to go back!

Rita Woods' The Edge of Yesterday is a riveting time-travel novel set in the Motor City

Set in Detroit in the present and a century earlier, Rita Woods’ gripping timeslip novel explores two people’s yearnings for a different future, the inexplicable link they share, and the ripple effects of seemingly small changes. In short: the more you mess with time, the more it’ll mess with you.

Formerly a member of a New York-based Black ballet company, Greer McKinney has returned with her husband, Bass, to Detroit after distressing neurological symptoms made her quit working. Temporarily staying in one of her wealthy in-laws’ properties, Greer despairs over her life amid escalating arguments with Bass.

Then one day, while on her way to visit a friend, she gets briefly zapped into the past – the special effects feel disorientingly real – and glimpses a bustling street scene and a tall man in old-fashioned clothing.

In 1925, Dr. Montgomery “Monty” Gray is a member of the “Talented Tenth,” a group of well-educated, socially aware Black leaders. With this role comes responsibilities, including marrying his best friend Aggie, a woman within his class. Racial strife is heating up, and when a gangster crashes their engagement party, challenging people to rise up against whites who terrorize African Americans who cross the color line, Monty foresees a terrible reckoning.

Greer’s startling trips back to 1925, which she comes to seek out, are mutually valued. Monty is amazed to learn a Black man will be President, while Greer’s health improves every time she returns home to 2025. Problem is, other aspects of her life change, too.

Both storylines are individually interesting, and the plot and atmosphere turn electric when they intersect. One small criticism: the book wraps up too quickly. While illustrating the vitality of the early 20th-century Black Bottom-Paradise Valley neighborhood, which was demolished decades later for redevelopment, Woods delivers an exciting work of speculative fiction with many hard-to-predict twists.

The Edge of Yesterday was published by Forge in late April, and I reviewed it for May's Historical Novels Review. I've heard little about this novel in historical fiction circles, and it's worth checking out!  Read more about the history of Paradise Valley in the online Encyclopedia of Detroit and in the Black Bottom Digital Archive.  I'd previously reviewed the author's debut, Remembrance, after its publication in 2020.

The spirit and the flesh: Emily Maguire's Rapture

Emily Maguire’s Rapture is an entrancing vision of a woman who unexpectedly rises to the height of influence in an exclusively male realm: the Roman Catholic church in the early Middle Ages.

This new reinterpretation of the legend of Pope Joan explores the meanings of its title – spiritual, intellectual, and physical fulfillment – in the life of its subject, who finds she can’t deny her humanity and womanhood (“Oh, tiresome, greedy, needful body!”) while satisfying her cravings for scholarly nourishment. 

The book is subdivided into sections whose headings come from a 13th-century chronicle, and I appreciated this nod to the limited record of her perhaps-existence. In 820s Mainz in the Frankish realm, Agnes, daughter of a man known as the English Priest and a pagan woman who died in childbirth, grows up absorbing the discussions in her father’s household, and the contents of his vast library, while viewing the wonders of nature.

The arrival of a young Benedictine monk, Brother Randulf, the most talented scribe at the Abbey of Fulda, shakes up her world. To her astonishment and pleasure, he acknowledges her thoughts have value and treats her like an equal. After her father’s death, Agnes asks him to take her to Fulda, in male disguise, so she can contemplate her learnings at leisure… or so she hopes.

This begins a deception that takes her from Fulda to the outskirts of Athens and at last to Rome, where her growing reputation leads her to become the right hand of Pope Leo IV. The violent impact of the Carolingian Civil War, when Charlemagne’s grandsons battled for control of land and empire, comes through well, as does the incessant politicking (which Agnes dislikes) within the pope’s inner circle.

Spiritually rich without being preachy or dense with theological arguments, the writing is a delight to read. It's an excellent vehicle for Agnes’s dramatic journey. We’re treated throughout to Agnes’s wise observations on her patriarchal environment, thanks to her unique viewpoint. “It is a revelation,” she thinks about the tedious rules and enforced humility of monastery life, “that these men struggle and need constant correcting in order to live as women must.” The ending, which fits with the Pope Joan legend, is transcendent.

Rapture was published by Sceptre in the UK, and by Allen & Unwin in Australia. In the US, the UK edition is sold on Kindle, which is how I purchased my copy. My choice to read this novel was inspired by recent news on papal history following the death of Pope Francis, as well as (related) the film Conclave, which I saw on Prime last weekend. I suspect Rapture will get an unintentional boost in readership thanks to world events!

The Director, inspired by a true story, details one man's moral compromises in artistic creation

Smarting after a Hollywood flop, Austrian-born director G. W. Pabst, a Weimar cinema pioneer, returned to Europe. Trapped in Austria while visiting his mother when WWII broke out, he became enmeshed in Goebbels’ propaganda machine.

Kehlmann (Tyll, 2020) uses this outline to construct a dark account of one man’s descent into fascist complicity, a path strewn with surrealistic scenarios and chilling self-justifications in favor of art.

The perspective shifts with each chapter, which keeps readers hyper-focused on each nightmarish step. The family’s Nazi-sympathizing caretaker at their Austrian home tyrannizes them; Pabst’s son Jakob begins bullying others. Pabst’s despairing wife, Trude, reluctantly joins an oppressive book club.

Ambitious yet passive, Pabst voices objections to working for the Reich but soon falls into line. “But once you get used to it and know the rules,” a colleague tells him, “you feel almost free.” The prologue foreshadows a mystery about his making of the film The Molander Case, and the reveal is shocking. 

While it takes many fictional liberties, Kehlmann’s novel is purposefully unnerving and timely.

The Director, translated by Ross Benjamin, will be published by Simon & Schuster/Summit Books on May 6th, and I wrote this review for the April issue of Booklist.

The original German title is Lichtspiel ("Light-Play"), an older term used to refer to motion pictures, but which also has symbolic meaning for this novel. You can read an illuminating interview with Kehlmann at Hungarian Literature Online. As hinted in the review and in the interview, if you're expecting a fictional biography of Pabst, be aware that the storyline does diverge from his real life (and his family's) in multiple instances. 

Bits and pieces of historical fiction news

Here are some articles and other news items that caught my attention in the last week.

The 2025 Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction shortlist is out.  The winner of this £25,000 Prize will be announced on June 12th at Abbotsford, the country house which was Scott's home in the Scottish Borders.

The Heart in Winter, Kevin Barry (Canongate/Doubleday US) - 1890s Montana

The Mare, Angharad Hampshire (Northodox Press) - 1950s New York

The Book of Days, Francesca Kay (Swift Press) - Tudor England 

Glorious Exploits, Ferdia Lennon (Fig Tree/St. Martin's) - ancient Greece

The Land in Winter, Andrew Miller (Sceptre) - 1962/63 England

The Safekeep, Yael van der Wouden (Viking UK/Avid Reader) - postwar Holland

No Americans on the list this time, but half of the shortlist were published in the US, and two of the novels, The Heart in Winter and The Mare, are set here. You can read the judges' comments, with short plot synopses, at the link above.

On Jane Friedman's blog, author Laura Stanfill has a guest post explaining how she raised the stakes in her historical novel by following an editor's advice and moving a secondary character into the protagonist's chair.  Read more at "Trust Your Instincts: Why Writing for Yourself Leads to Better Books."

In Welcome to Censorship, author Vanessa Riley speaks about how she was using the design tool Canva to develop slides for promoting her upcoming historical novel when the software flagged the word "enslaved," which describes her protagonist, as unsupported usage because it appeared to be "a political topic." Very disturbing.

From Sarah McCraw Crow's Substack, An Unfinished Story, the latest in her Midlife Author series is an interview with historical novelist Jane Healey about becoming debut author in her 40s, what it takes to pursue a writing career long-term, and the challenges she's faced.

Alina Adams, whose historical novel Go On Pretending is out on May 1st, writes about the ways she had success obtaining preorders, and where these attempts didn't work.

In the industry, people are getting mixed messages about the category "women's fiction."  Editors aren't using the term, preferring "relationship fiction" or "book club fiction" instead.  Agents are moving away from it too.  But many writers and writers' associations embrace its usage, and the BISAC category of Fiction/Women still remains. You'll find the BISAC codes for books used by retailers like Amazon, digital catalogs like Edelweiss, and more. Read much more at Heather Garbo's Substack, Write Your Next Chapter.  Her post, which examines relevant book deal announcements from Publishers Marketplace, also looks at the overlap between historical and women's fiction, and how books that fall into both categories may be labeled as one but not the other, making it hard to locate all new releases comprehensively. I'm always interested in avenues for discoverability for historical fiction, so I appreciated this post.

Isabel Allende's My Name Is Emilia del Valle adds a new angle to her ongoing family saga

Allende has created many addictive sagas about the extended del Valle family and their intersections with history and one another. The eponymous Emilia, Allende’s addition to this notable clan, is one adventurous, gutsy woman.

The illegitimate daughter of a Chilean aristocrat and the Irish novice nun he seduced, Emilia grows up in San Francisco with her loving stepfather’s support, intrepidly working around gender restrictions. After penning dime novels pseudonymously, she becomes a human-interest columnist for the Daily Examiner and wangles an assignment as international correspondent for the impending Chilean Civil War of 1891, under her own byline.

Emilia’s first meeting with her long-lost father in Santiago is quite moving, and her time with the canteen girls who accompany President Balmaceda’s army echoes with their unsung courage. Allende expertly navigates through the violent chaos of battle and how it affects Emilia, whose romantic relationships also showcase her character growth.

Fans of Allende’s now-classic Daughter of Fortune (1999) and Portrait in Sepia (2000) will particularly welcome this offering, which is replete with Allende’s customary poetic storytelling.

My Name Is Emilia del Valle will be published by Ballantine in May; the translator is Frances Riddle.  I contributed this review for Booklist's March issue.

I recommended this especially for readers of Allende's earlier novels because it's a new entry in the Del Valle saga, but mostly since significant characters from Daughter of Fortune and its sequel appear here too, which was a nice surprise.  No spoilers here, but I'll be curious to see what other readers think about how this novel ends.

Are you missing the Tudor era? Check out these ten recent and upcoming novels

Are you a historical fiction fan looking back fondly on the years of Tudormania, when novels set in 16th-century England (especially about the royals) were eagerly scooped up by publishers?  The good news is these books are still around, in smaller quantities perhaps, but novelists are still writing them, and readers still want them. During these fraught political times, when it's necessary to escape the news headlines periodically for one's own sanity, I've been finding myself gravitating toward earlier historical settings more often, including the Tudor era. Here are ten recent books set then, and I'll be posting reviews of many in the coming months. 

A story of politics, philosophy, and gender-bending intrigue featuring Alexander "Sander" Cooke, a young man famed for playing female roles in Shakespeare's plays in Elizabethan London, and his best friend Joan, restricted from intellectual circles because she's a woman. William Morrow, Feb. 2025.

Jane (Parker) Boleyn, who has featured previously in the author's The Boleyn Inheritance and others, gets the full-length treatment in Gregory's next novel. Her return to the Tudor era explores Jane's motivations for her notorious actions. This is the US cover, perhaps designed to attract dark romantasy fans?  HarperCollins, Oct. 2025.

This is the first historical novel I'm aware of about Mark Smeaton, the court musician accused of committing adultery with Queen Anne Boleyn (a treasonous act) and executed along with others caught up in the plot against Anne. His personal story is little known.  SparkPress, May 2025.

A modern woman visiting an old Tudor mansion in Norfolk comes upon the story of Anne Dacre, later Countess of Arundel. She loses her beloved younger brother, perhaps at her stepfather's hands, and fights to take revenge.  Boldwood, March 2025.

A trio of enterprising women band together to write poetry and plays secretly, and ask a certain rakish actor to pose as the author when their scheming attracts unwanted attention.  This sounds like a fun spin on the "Shakespeare authorship" theme oft-expressed in historical fiction. Alcove Press, July 2025. 

In this debut novel, Robert Smythson, the English architect famed for his design of Hardwick Hall, Wollaton Hall, and other Elizabethan manor houses, looks into a suspicious death discovered during the rebuilding of Longleat in Wiltshire. Glowing Log Books, Sept. 2024.

Another lesser-known Tudor personage claims the spotlight here: Anne, daughter of Henry VIII's good friend Charles Brandon, whose story of marital turmoil and clandestine romance is intertwined with that of a modern heiress and a remote country house in both women's lives.  Boldwood, Jan. 2025.

Knowing Alison Weir's familiarity with Tudor-era notables, "the Cardinal" here could be none other than Thomas Wolsey, Henry VIII's right-hand man (until he notably fell from grace). She explores his surprising career and personal life, including his affections for his longtime mistress.  Ballantine, May 2025.

Lady Margaret Clifford is a Tudor heir you may not have heard of; she was a granddaughter of Henry VIII's younger sister, Mary.  The novel details the political, religious, and romantic intrigue surrounding Margaret as the English throne passes to Lady Jane Grey and then Mary I.  This is first in a three-book series about women from the period. Sapere, Dec. 2024.

From the cover design and title, you might surmise that Wertman's latest Tudor novel retells the younger years of the future Elizabeth I in a narrative of hard-won wisdom and survival.  I enjoyed her novel The Boy King, about Elizabeth's half-brother, Edward VI.  Independently published, May 2025.

Haunting deceptions: Beth Ford's In the Time of Spirits

In the Time of Spirits is a novel of the late 19th-century spiritualist movement, seen from the perspective of those who performed seances for gullible audiences. Its plot takes unpredictable, often confounding turns, much like its strong-minded heroine. Are her actions irritating or all too fitting? They certainly offer much to think about!

After losing her parents in a house fire in Washington, DC, 22-year-old Adalinda (Addy) Cohart inherits a tidy sum. Although she’s grateful for the support of her longtime suitor, Arthur Simmons, Addy doesn’t want to wed anyone. She adores Marie Corelli’s mystical novels and sees mediums as important role models for independent, adventurous women.

Her interests lead her to New York City, alongside a female travel companion, and into the company of William Fairley, the handsome and charismatic assistant to the renowned Mrs. Alexi, whose spiritual talents seem fully plausible to the innocent Addy. Before long, Addy marries William, despite her previous aversion to wedlock, then accompanies him to London following an invite from a spiritualist organization. After being introduced to the secret tricks of his trade, Addy faces a life-changing choice.

The author’s smooth prose, unencumbered by elaborate descriptions, ensures a fast-paced read as Addy figures out what she wants and what she can tolerate. The text is so sparing of details, though, that the settings feel generic. Aside from notable landmarks, Manhattan, London, and Paris of the 1890s appear much the same. The theatrical performances Addy attends and the museum she visits remain nameless. The exceptions are the seances themselves. Rather selfish and a poor friend to others, Addy is often an unlikeable protagonist. However, by the dramatic turns of the finale, one might argue she is a memorable one.

This novel was published by Peony Books (the author's imprint) in 2024, and I wrote the review originally for the Historical Novels Review. The subject matter intrigued me, and so did the characters, even as their actions kept me guessing about where the plot was leading.  I learn new things about authors' approaches to historical fiction with every book I read, and so it was with this book. Readers new to the genre might not mind or notice the absence of place-specific details, though this aspect stood out for me. I'd still read more by the same author, who has written other historicals as well.

N. J. Mastro explores the tumultuous life of Mary Wollstonecraft in Solitary Walker

Mary Wollstonecraft is perhaps best known for two accomplishments: A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792), a treatise that caused her to be remembered as the first feminist; and her status as the mother of Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein.

As significant as these are, Wollstonecraft’s life was extraordinary for many other reasons. N.J. Mastro’s biographical novel explores them in depth, lavishing equal time on her innermost feelings and outward actions, as well as the tumult stirred up when they conflicted.

Wollstonecraft didn’t just talk the talk: she walked the walk, serving as an example of her belief that if women were given more than the limited education that society deemed appropriate, their intellectual and social development would flourish. Following an effective short prologue in which she tries and fails to protect her mother from her drunk father’s abuse, we meet Mary at twenty-eight, just as she’s being let go from her position as governess to an aristocratic Irish family’s daughters. The girls adore her, but her teachings are too broad and academic for their mother’s liking.

This setback spurs Mary to “make her own way in the world as a solitary woman,” heading to London to “live by her pen” in England’s literary capital. To earn a living, she accepts an invitation to review books for a progressive new journal – at a time when reviewing was competitive, well-paid, and mostly done by men!

Mary’s passions spring to life: her absorption into the lively community at the home of her publisher Joseph Johnson, where she holds her own at dinner conversations when she’s the only woman present; her determination to share her ideas through writing, despite Mr. Johnson’s gentle advice that she must publish anonymously; her growing irritation about the impositions of her family, always requesting money she’s hard-pressed to supply; and her curiosity about the dark eroticism of the oil painting The Nightmare, as well as its artist. She enjoys male friendships, but with many examples of marriage’s negative effect on women weighing on her mind, Mary guards herself when it comes to romantic and sexual relationships. The depth of her emotions, once they surface, catches her unaware.

The novel proceeds chronologically, focusing on key periods of Mary’s life and how her character transformed. Some of her exploits would be considered significant in any day and age, such as moving abroad to observe a new republic’s violent birth firsthand and directing her own solo trip through parts of remote Scandinavia. Mary’s time in France is especially dangerous given her nationality. Augmenting the stress and unease are the fraught personal circumstances in which Mary finds herself.

Mastro’s writing is skillful and precise, creating descriptions of settings and characters that linger. She has an eye for atmospheric details: “Everyone’s clothes felt damp; even the pages of their books had gone limp,” she writes of a hot, rainy summer day in Bristol. Nearly all the characters are historically documented; if you’re familiar with the period, you may figure out which one(s) are fictional. All is explained in an author’s note. This is a well-researched, admirable fictional portrait that will leave you amazed at the daring and vigorous way Mary moved through her world.

Solitary Walker was published by Black Rose Writing in February (reviewed from an ARC copy).

The Long and Winding Road, an essay by Lorraine Norwood, author of The Solitary Sparrow

Continuing with the Small Press Month focus, I'm pleased to welcome Lorraine Norwood to Reading the Past with an essay about her long journey to publishing her debut novel. What do you do when you've chosen a compelling subject and have developed your fiction writing craft but find it impossible to break into the trend-focused market of traditional publication?  Please read on, and please check out Lorraine's website for more information on her medieval historical fiction series, The Margaret Chronicles.

~

The Long and Winding Road

Lorraine Norwood

I published my debut book in 2024 after years of writing. I submitted hundreds of queries, attended conferences, was accepted by an agent, submitted to the Big 5, got turned down, submitted to smaller houses, got accepted by a small publisher but said "no" because the contract was lousy, suffered the death of my biggest fan— my mother, got Covid and cancer, was released by my agent, pivoted to a reputable hybrid publisher—and then got accepted. Hurray! It only took me 38 years.

It was a long and winding road. Hard, with very deep potholes.

Why, you might ask, did you not shove the book in a drawer and forget writing? Well, I’ve had lots of jobs in my life in order to pay the electric bill but the job I do best is writing. And it’s the one that gives me the most joy. I didn’t give up because I couldn’t NOT do it. Even though it didn’t pay the electric bill.

Since the first day my main character jumped into my head, I’ve seen a huge shift in the gatekeepers, a shift that has made it difficult for newbies to break into the traditional world of publishing.

Fourteen years ago I attended the HNS conference (my first) in San Diego and heard a group of editors and agents describe the chaotic changes in the traditional publishing world as the “new Wild Wild West.” I couldn’t be bothered with what the cowboys in New York City were doing. I had a book to get out. I had been working on it for years. All I had to do was get an agent at the conference, submit to the big boys, and voila! it was going to be a hit. Historical fiction readers were going to love it. I would be wined and dined, accompanied on book tours by my marketing agent, and get carpal tunnel syndrome from signing so many books.

Well, why NOT me? I did the work. Sat my butt in the chair. Worked on the craft. Got an agent. I rewrote sections of my manuscript for my agent, changed plotlines for prospective editors, and deleted scenes for editors who wanted the book sanitized. The negative responses went like this:

•  The writing is top-notch, but nobody reads historical fiction anymore.
•  It’s great writing, but it’s not saleable.
•  Loved your characters, but we’re concerned about getting a return on our investment.

I did all the things you’re supposed to do and still NADA. After five years of trying, my agent, bless her heart, apologized and let me go.

That was the lowest, deepest pothole.

Jump to 2023. Traditional publishing was still not home on the range. If anything it was wilder than anybody predicted. Where were the chummy editor/writer consultations? Where were the book tours? Where were the marketing teams? Where were the new authors? Why were the big boys putting out the same people over and over again? And how, in all this chaos, with 2.2 million (and some say 3 million) books published yearly (according to UNESCO), can an author ever hope to climb to the top of the heap?

The truth is, you can’t. To think otherwise is delusional. At least that’s what a book coach and influencer told me during a Zoom call attended by hundreds of writers from across the globe. “You are delusional,” she said to me. Well, maybe she didn’t actually call ME delusional, just my thinking. Same thing. It hurt my feelings. But I realize now she was right. Except, maybe I wasn’t so much delusional as outdated and naive. I was waiting for others to take charge of my destiny, instead of me.

My book is NOT: historical fantasy, speculative historical fiction, historical crime, a retelling of Greek myths or historical romantasy. It’s not anything that the publishing powerful say they want.

author Lorraine Norwood

My book is the story of one girl’s dogged pursuit to be the first female physician in England specializing in the care of women. The book is heavy on common people and light on the nobility. There aren’t any Tudors for another 200 years. The book is bloody, realistic, and gruesome in places. In fact, Goodreads contains this content warning: Abortion, miscarriage, death, misogyny, racial discrimination, gruesome medical procedures, and this review, “While I loved the grittiness of the story, a few scenes were a bit too crude for my reading preferences.”

Well, as the man says, “The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.” Like die from childbed fever.

I now had a choice. I could spend more years of my life querying for an agent, querying the major and minor publishers, and waiting . . . and waiting or . . .

I was now 73 years old. I didn’t have time to wait.

I took an intense course on self-publishing. Self-publishing, no longer the red-headed stepchild of the author’s world, has gotten easier and more user friendly. But I decided my time could be spent more wisely by writing while I paid others to produce the book. After a lot of research and consultation with writer friends, I pivoted to hybrid publishing. One year later my book was born and out in the world.

At the recent History Quill 2025 virtual conference, panelists agreed that today traditional and indie publishing must go beyond mere writing and printing a book; multiple formats are increasingly important along with newsletters, blogs, email lists, social branding and authority on a subject.

And you thought all you had to do was write. Well, not anymore.

So, I’ll leave you with a few thoughts about the long and winding road.

There are many paths to publishing today. That’s the good news. You can send your work to agents or to small presses that don’t require an agent. You can send your work to hybrid presses or you can self-publish.

Do you have five years? Do you want to put it out there and get rejected or languish in a slush pile? Or do you want to see it out in the world in a year or possibly less?

For those of us who are "of a certain age," there is no question. We can’t wait. The finished book—that is, the book that has been through beta readers, a developmental editor, a proofreader, a cover artist, and typographer—needs to be born as quickly as possible.

If you really want to do it, don’t wait. You’ll wait yourself into the grave. Morbid? Yes. But true. Sh*t happens. If you wait, it’s going to happen anyway. Don’t wait.

~

Lorraine Norwood is a North Carolina native living in the Blue Ridge Mountains with her 14-year-old yellow Lab who thinks food is more interesting than writing. Lorraine is working on The Margaret Chronicles, an historical fiction series set in 14th century England and France. The first of the series, The Solitary Sparrow, was published in 2024. She is hard at work on the sequel, A Pelican in the Wilderness. 

Lorraine worked as a journalist in print and television for over 20 years before living the dream at the University of York in York, UK, where she earned a master’s degree in medieval archaeology. She has participated in excavations in York and at other sites in England, including a leper hospital. 

She is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and the Historical Novel Society. She is happy that at long last, after two marriages, two children, twelve jobs, three college degrees, and twenty-three moves, she has a room of her own in which to write. 

The need for speed: Emma Donoghue's The Paris Express imagines the lead-up to a historic train disaster

On the morning of October 22, 1895, the Paris Express leaves the town of Granville in Normandy for its seven-hour, ten-minute trip to the capital. Unbeknownst to its many passengers, the train is hurtling toward a crashing halt. Donoghue (Learned by Heart, 2023) superbly portrays the lead-up to the Montparnasse derailment, a disaster memorialized in astounding photographs, as experienced by travelers of diverse nationalities and social classes.

Among them are a mixed-race American painter aspiring to greater achievements, an Algerian coffee-seller, a young boy bravely journeying alone, a female physiology student who observes classic signs of disease in a teenage girl in her car, and married workmen who enjoy a unique partnership. Quietly, an anarchist on board weighs the right moment to strike.

Always balancing safety with keeping on schedule, crewmen feel pressured to make up any lost time. The pacing ramps up further midway through, the atmosphere tense.

Donoghue’s particular forte lies in showing how confined circumstances shape interactions. Her characterization is a marvel as she dexterously yet efficiently illustrates people’s outward appearances and innermost desires. In her hands, the novel’s long-ago setting becomes an exciting place buzzing with fresh life and technological ideas on the cusp of a new century.

The Paris Express will be published by Summit Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, next Tuesday, March 18th; I wrote this draft review for Booklist's February issue.  

I won't link to articles about the notorious derailment since There Be Spoilers for this particular novel, but you can google it if you so choose!