A visual preview of the winter 2025 season in historical fiction

For this post, I'm looking way ahead to see what's on the horizon for historical fiction this coming winter.  These dozen books have publication dates in the US between January and March 2025.  I may yet do a different post with autumn 2024 releases, but advance publicity for fiction seems to be starting earlier and earlier, and there are so many intriguing-sounding titles here, so let's go...

Five female crime writers unite to (guess what?) solve a challenging murder. You'll recognize the names of these now-famous Golden Age mystery novelists; reportedly this story was inspired by an incident in Dorothy Sayers' life. St. Martin's, January 2025.

To say I've been anticipating this one is an understatement! It also has a terrific tagline. Casati's second novel focuses on Semiramis, reigning queen in ancient Assyria, and her unlikely rise to power. The interest in mythological retellings seems to be encouraging additional novels set in the distant past, which is welcome news. Sourcebooks, January 2025.

Drastic changes on an Alabama plantation in the pre-Civil War years summon the appearance of the ghost of a young enslaved woman's older sister. Speculative historical fiction with themes of freedom, coming of age, and unexpected romance. Ballantine, February 2025.

Nicole Galland's latest takes inspiration from a historical figure, Alexander Cooke, who was a "boy player" of female roles in Shakespearean London, intertwining his story with an intellectual female friend of his, plus philosopher Francis Bacon. A theatrical, gender-swapping plot with political drama. (For another take on Cooke, see Jinny Webber's Bedtrick.)  William Morrow, February 2025.

In 1940s St. Louis, at the time of Jim Crow, a powerhouse upper-class Black couple confronts a sudden tragedy; a debut based on the family history of the author, who happens to be a former diplomat.  Grand Central, February 2025.

Moving between the 1920s and 1950s, Henry's latest women's fiction/mystery novel centers on a daughter seeking answers about her author mother's disappearance, as well as about the manuscript her mother left behind, one written in a language she'd invented as a child. Atria, March 2025.

In 1931, a young Indian man is sent by Gandhi to England, where he's meant to get a legal education to help his country's independence movement, but he risks losing sight of his mission; a novel of colonialism and the desire for belonging.  Crown, January 2025.

Kearsley's novels are always worth waiting for. The latest by this Canadian author focuses on political subterfuge in Scotland in Jacobean times, and centering on a royal messenger with second sight, a sense of integrity, and a duty he'd rather not fulfill. Sourcebooks Landmark, March 2025.

Judith Shakespeare, the title character from Tiffany's earlier My Father Had a Daughter (the twin sister of Hamnet, who died at age 11), returns in a new story; here she's sixty-one, forced out of her hometown of Stratford when she's accused of witchcraft. And thumbs up to fiction featuring older historical heroines. Harper, February 2025.

Alice Marble was an American champion tennis player. She also served as an editor for the Wonder Woman comics; as if that wasn't enough, she was asked to spy for the US on a mission overseas during WWII. Walsh brings her incredible story back into public view. Harper Muse, January 2025.

Another work of biographical fiction, this time about Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield, renowned Black American opera singer in the mid-19th century and her surprising, risky, and triumphant career path. William Morrow, January 2025.

The complicated relationship between two young women in 19th-century China, as a handmaiden joining the household of a wealthy family arouses feelings of jealousy and resentment due to her exquisite embroidery skills and bound feet.  Park Row, January 2025.

Michelle Moran's Maria looks for the real story behind The Sound of Music's complicated heroine

Michelle Moran’s gripping new novel Maria (whose subject, Maria von Trapp, will be recognizable from the beautiful cover) left me pondering the reasons why people choose to tell the stories they do. In 1959, as Arthur Hammerstein is finalizing the lyrics for a Broadway musical about her life, Maria writes him a letter requesting a meeting. She doesn’t like the way her family is being depicted in the play, especially how her late husband, Georg, is shown as a strict disciplinarian.

Hammerstein sends his assistant, Fran Connelly (a fictional character), to meet with Maria and hopefully assuage her concerns, plus prevent any potential bad press. Maria’s tale then unfolds in the first person, beginning when she, as a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey, was sent to tutor one of the daughters of Baron Georg von Trapp, a war hero and widower. Maria re-introduces his seven children to music and the simple joys of playtime. This aspect doesn’t diverge far from the play and film, but later parts of Maria’s life are a different story.

The Christmas holidays in the von Trapp household are recreated in such idyllic scenes that even the nonreligious will be tempted to book a trip to Salzburg next winter! But the real Maria was a complicated woman, shown here with considerable complexity, who endured physical abuse by a relative as a child. While her ambitions for the family’s singing careers may have saved them, her domineering behavior caused mental anguish for her own children.

Readers will grasp the amusing irony that this is a novel about a woman who resisted being fictionalized.  Yet Maria succeeds in presenting a well-rounded, nuanced portrait that draws its information from multiple sources, since no one account (not even Maria’s autobiographies) presents a complete image of her character. It’s a must-read for anyone who loves biographical fiction, and it provides understanding about why The Sound of Music took the fictional liberties that it did.

Maria will be published by Dell on July 30th. Thanks to the publisher for providing me with a copy.

Libbie Hawker's Mercer Girls brings three determined women to frontier Seattle

Libbie Hawker’s Mercer Girls takes its name from a group of enterprising young women from around Lowell, Massachusetts, who were recruited by Asa Mercer in the 1860s to travel to Washington Territory, which suffered from a major gender imbalance. They journeyed via ship from New York via Panama and up the Pacific coast to Seattle, debarking at a grimy, half-built frontier town where they – educated women of respectable backgrounds – found their reputations challenged by a society who believed only females with low morals would leave their homes behind as they did.

Hawker smoothly shifts the viewpoints among three main characters, each of whom has different reasons for wanting a fresh start: thirtyish Josephine, fleeing a secret past; impoverished mill owner’s daughter Dovey, whose combined naivete and uncontrollable ambitions prove dangerous; and prim Sophronia, whose Christian uprightness is off-putting. Each is uniquely sympathetic yet flawed, and their personalities realistically transform over time.

This isn’t a standard heartwarming story of female cooperation during adversity, since Jo, Dovey, and Sophronia frequently clash (especially the latter two). Despite expectations they find husbands asap, the women forge their own paths. The historical background will attract fans of Western heroines and, especially, those who enjoyed Robin Oliveira’s recent A Wild and Heavenly Place, set amid the gorgeous but rough landscape of Washington Territory a bit later.

The plot unfolds with details on the early suffrage fight (this bogs down the story at the end), prostitution (seen as a lucrative career choice), and the process of tax collection (more interesting than it sounds). Overall, it’s a fast-moving portrait of the scrappiness needed for survival on the frontier, and how three “Mercer girls” found it within themselves.

I read Mercer Girls (Lake Union, 2016) from a NetGalley copy I'd left unread for too long. Read more about the original "Mercer girls" via the New England Historical Society.

Tropical glamour and gothic suspense in Chanel Cleeton's The House on Biscayne Bay

Cleeton’s dual-period mystery intermixes tropical heat and gothic chills in a satisfying way as two women, decades apart, face up to shocking truths. The glamour factor is high as Anna Barnes and Carmen Acosta each arrive at Marbrisa, a palatial Miami showpiece, but despite its ornate furnishings and beautifully manicured grounds, neither finds their new home comfortable at all.

Just after the Great War, Anna’s longtime husband, Robert, a wealthy businessman, whisks her from New York to Florida and presents her with Marbrisa as a birthday gift. Anna is a shy woman with subdued tastes; the architect notes her dismay and tries adapting it to her preferences, but just when she’s getting accustomed to her new residence, a young woman attending the Barneses’ glitzy evening gala is discovered drowned. 

In 1941, eighteen-year-old Carmen moves from Cuba after her parents’ deaths to live with her older sister Carolina and brother-in-law Asher Wyatt, Marbrisa’s new owners. Carolina, to whom Carmen was never close, seems unnaturally guarded and may be having an affair. With nowhere else to go, and Asher overseeing her inheritance, Carmen doesn’t know who to trust.

How well do we really know the people we love? This important question guides the novel’s suspense. To Anna, Robert has always been a devoted partner, but does he have secrets? Who is causing disturbances at Marbrisa in the ´40s, and how do they relate to the reasons why the house was abandoned and believed cursed?

The action moves fast, and Cleeton proves a daring writer as the plot twists unexpectedly. Alongside deadly alligators, shrieking peacocks, and fierce winds whipping off the bay, the uneasy atmosphere suits the historical backdrop, with rich northerners swooping in on undeveloped Florida land, and locals eyeing the rich interlopers with curious envy and resentment. The ending is perfect, too.

The House on Biscayne Bay was published in April by Berkley. This is the 2nd novel by Cleeton that I've read, the first being The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba.

New reader survey emphasizing historical fiction: invitation to participate

Please excuse the recent delay with new posts, as I've been out of town.

M.K. (Mary) Tod, a friend from the historical fiction community who writes in the genre and compiles the A Writer of History blog, has come out with a 5th survey taking a look at reading habits and preferences. This year's survey asks questions about book formats, social media interactions, and how you as a reader find out about books. There's a special focus on historical fiction, so you'll get to weigh in on your time period preferences, what genres you enjoy most, and more.

Take the survey here:  https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/LSYVTG7
 

The survey is likely to remain open through late July.  For the results of earlier surveys (2012 through 2018), see A Writer of History.

The first volume of Conn Iggulden's Nero trilogy dramatizes the survival instinct and bold ambition of his mother, Agrippina

After an excursion to ancient Greece, most recently in Empire (2023), Iggulden circles back to Rome, the setting for his original Emperor series, as he begins a new trilogy about the forces that shaped Emperor Nero’s life.

Nero is still a child when this novel wraps up with the Roman invasion of Britain in 43 CE, so his mother, Empress Agrippina, is the focal point here. Using her considerable wiles and attractiveness, Agrippina conceives a plan for maneuvering her son into the position of imperial heir and does whatever it takes to succeed.

Spanning the paranoid finale of Tiberius’ reign through Caligula’s madness and the accession of the scholarly Claudius, ruthless in his own way, the story illustrates the era’s political infighting, depravity, and bloody viciousness using full-color imagery and eloquent language that sings with vigor. “Life was violence,” Agrippina comes to believe, “If you survived, you walked away to heal and plot your revenge.” Honor exists, but is rarely rewarded.

Iggulden acknowledges taking some historical liberties to streamline his tale, which zips along with great energy.

Nero was published by Pegasus in the US last month, and I wrote this review for Booklist's historical fiction issue, which came out on May 15. Michael Joseph is the UK publisher for Nero, and that edition has a very similar cover.  This is the third of Iggulden's novels I've reviewed for Booklist, the others being The Gates of Athens and Protector, set in ancient Greece, both of which I enjoyed thoroughly. 

Nero is actually called Lucius in this book; his name at birth was Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus. He received his new name following adoption by his stepfather (and great-uncle) Claudius some years later. It will be interesting to compare this new series with Margaret George's duology about Nero as it continues: those books are The Confessions of Young Nero and The Splendor Before the Dark. 

All We Were Promised portrays three Black women's friendship and hopes for freedom in 1830s Philadelphia

Lattimore’s debut exudes originality in its characters, plot situations, and especially in its well-chosen setting of 1830s Philadelphia, “the self-proclaimed cradle of liberty,” a landmark American city whose grand ideals of freedom and brotherly love fall short for its Black residents. The opening scene makes plain this philosophical struggle. As Charlotte Walker and Nell Gardner attend a speech by prominent abolitionist Robert Purvis in Washington Square Park, white men’s resentment agitates a violent mob.

The young women’s worlds rarely intersect; their friendship is an exception. Nell’s family are well-to-do Black elites who have been free for generations, while Charlotte had escaped a Maryland plantation with her father four years earlier, a fact she keeps hidden. Charlotte is forced to serve as housemaid to her ambitious father while he passes for white and establishes an upscale woodworking business.

Charlotte gradually opens Nell’s eyes to the hypocritical limitations of the Philadelphia Female Antislavery Society that Nell belongs to, since it hesitates to take action to help runaway slaves, even as these needs become immediate. Charlotte had left her younger friend Evie behind when she fled Maryland, and when Evie arrives in Philadelphia with her enslaver, the self-absorbed Missus Kate, Charlotte risks having her cover blown.

The viewpoint nimbly switches among the three lead characters, and pre-Civil War Philadelphia arises fully formed on the page with its diverse residential neighborhoods, public spaces, and a moral edifice whose structure is continually tested. The storyline keeps readers guessing on how everyone’s relationships will evolve under the weight of secrets: not just the women’s friendships, but also Nell’s potential romance with a family friend and Charlotte’s strained bond with her father/boss, who refuses to acknowledge their past. A few too-modern word choices stand out (“slow-walked”), but this is an altogether absorbing, thought-provoking story.

Ashton Lattimore's All We Were Promised was published by Ballantine in April; I reviewed it initially for May's Historical Novels Review.