Ann Weisgarber excels at depicting the inner lives of people living through difficult historical times. She writes with a graceful simplicity that lays bare the natural beauty of the landscape and her characters' turbulent emotions. I found The Promise to be an even more engrossing read than her first novel, The Personal History of Rachel DuPree.
In Dayton, Ohio, in 1900, 29-year-old Catherine Wainwright re-establishes a correspondence with an old friend, Oscar Williams, after her affair with her cousin's husband comes to light and brings shame upon her and her family. Oscar had used to deliver coal as a boy, but now he's a prosperous dairy farmer on Galveston Island down in Texas, a recent widower with a 5-year-old son, Andre.
Catherine, a talented pianist from a wealthy family, had never considered him as a suitor before, but now, she relates, "he was the only person whose letter was not cold or indifferent." When he offers marriage, which she both hoped for and was resigned to, she boards a southbound train in desperation, leaving her creditors behind.
The Promise smoothly alternates between the perspectives of Catherine, forced to adjust to more rustic circumstances and to marriage and a stepchild, and Nan Ogden, the younger woman who works as Oscar's housekeeper, having promised his late wife, her friend Bernadette, to take care of Andre. Nan secretly loves Oscar and is devastated he chose someone so different from her as his bride.
Through the women's narratives, the novel movingly depicts the loneliness of an outsider. Both are vulnerable in different ways. Not knowing how to cook, and unused to her new home's isolation and steamy climate, Catherine must depend on Nan to take care of her household. And Nan, despite her strong-willed nature, must stand by and say nothing as Catherine grows close to both Oscar and Andre. Both their voices feel authentic, Catherine's formality and perfect diction contrasting with Nan's easy knowledge of island life and her south Texas drawl.
A third woman plays a major role in the story, too. Bernadette only appears in flashbacks, but her presence comes alive on the page nonetheless. Ann Weisgarber creates such a compelling back story for her, a Louisiana Cajun who overcame a shameful background and enjoyed a loving marriage only to die young, that it makes you realize both how unfair and how precious life is.
The Williams home is built on a ridge, and on 8-foot stilts besides, but it, too, like everything else on Galveston Island, becomes vulnerable as a mammoth storm appears off the coast. The Galveston Hurricane of 1900 was America's most devastating natural disaster, with terrible loss of life and property. While I turned the pages rapidly, anxious to see how things turned out, I had to put the book down several times, fearful that characters I'd come to care about might be hurt.
Rich in description and emotion, The Promise is highly recommended for admirers of character-centered historical novels. It was a deserving finalist for the 2014 Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction.
The Promise is published in trade paperback by Skyhorse on May 5th, with the new cover art above (336pp, $14.99). I read it from a personal copy, having purchased the UK hardcover last year.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
The WWI home front as seen in Elizabeth Jeffrey's Meadowlands
You might call this one "Downton Abbey lite."
The premise of Meadowlands will be familiar to followers of the WWI saga trend. The aristocratic Bartrams see their world upended as their country plunges into war. Life as they know it won't ever be the same again. Etc.
Unlike their distant parents, Sir George Barsham MP and his wife, Lady Adelaide, the four Bartram children face up to reality and pitch in to do their part. James goes into the army; Ned's a conscientious objector but eventually volunteers as a non-combatant so as not to be labeled a coward; Millie drives ambulances in France with the Voluntary Aid Detachment; and Georgina "Gina," the most prominent character of the bunch, establishes a soup kitchen for local women. On the "downstairs" side, sort of, is Polly Catchpole, a young neighbor who works as a maid at Meadowlands. She grew up alongside James and has always loved him but knows any future for them is futile.
The novel is most admirable in showing the plight of the women and children left impoverished and forgotten by the government while their families' breadwinners are fighting overseas. Gina serves as their guide through the endless red tape and uses her contacts to help them fight for the separation allowances owed them, but that doesn't always help.
The broad-brush characters slot easily into their roles, and for readers who might miss the novel's themes, the dialogue gives regular reminders: "Yes, I fear all the old values are disappearing," for instance. Lady Adelaide, in particular, is a piece of work in her absolute cluelessness: "Must the conversation always be either the war or politics when you're at home?" she whines to her husband, who avoids her by staying in London. It almost comes as a relief to see even her children poking fun at her ridiculous behavior by the end.
It's a non-taxing portrayal of the WWI home front, but not as distinctive as it could be; for example, don't expect much local color. Meadowlands is a stand-in for a typical English estate, and it's unclear which county or even part of England it's in.
Meadowlands was published by Severn House this month (hb, $29.95, 224pp). Thanks to the publisher for the NetGalley download.
The premise of Meadowlands will be familiar to followers of the WWI saga trend. The aristocratic Bartrams see their world upended as their country plunges into war. Life as they know it won't ever be the same again. Etc.
Unlike their distant parents, Sir George Barsham MP and his wife, Lady Adelaide, the four Bartram children face up to reality and pitch in to do their part. James goes into the army; Ned's a conscientious objector but eventually volunteers as a non-combatant so as not to be labeled a coward; Millie drives ambulances in France with the Voluntary Aid Detachment; and Georgina "Gina," the most prominent character of the bunch, establishes a soup kitchen for local women. On the "downstairs" side, sort of, is Polly Catchpole, a young neighbor who works as a maid at Meadowlands. She grew up alongside James and has always loved him but knows any future for them is futile.
The novel is most admirable in showing the plight of the women and children left impoverished and forgotten by the government while their families' breadwinners are fighting overseas. Gina serves as their guide through the endless red tape and uses her contacts to help them fight for the separation allowances owed them, but that doesn't always help.
The broad-brush characters slot easily into their roles, and for readers who might miss the novel's themes, the dialogue gives regular reminders: "Yes, I fear all the old values are disappearing," for instance. Lady Adelaide, in particular, is a piece of work in her absolute cluelessness: "Must the conversation always be either the war or politics when you're at home?" she whines to her husband, who avoids her by staying in London. It almost comes as a relief to see even her children poking fun at her ridiculous behavior by the end.
It's a non-taxing portrayal of the WWI home front, but not as distinctive as it could be; for example, don't expect much local color. Meadowlands is a stand-in for a typical English estate, and it's unclear which county or even part of England it's in.
Meadowlands was published by Severn House this month (hb, $29.95, 224pp). Thanks to the publisher for the NetGalley download.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Courage, controversy, and love in the Enlightenment: The Philosopher's Kiss
In our day, authors and editors of reference books aren't considered to be especially dangerous. Dedicated and scholarly, perhaps, but not overly controversial. In addition, the print editions of multi-volume reference sets also becoming a thing of the past. The Encyclopedia Britannica, for instance, ceased hard copy publication in 2012 in favor of the more versatile and popular e-version.
In France in the mid-18th century, however, circumstances were far different. Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d'Alembert, the principal editors of the noted Encyclopédie, risked life and liberty to produce the first work of its kind in the French language.
In their quest to provide comprehensive treatment of the arts, sciences, and trades via commissioned articles from notable contributors, their masterwork emphasized human thought and accomplishments over theology. The Church took offense, and government censors kept close watch on the project. The 28 volumes of the Encyclopédie appeared over the course of 21 years and were supported by the funding of an increasing number of eager subscribers. In the end, it stands as a tremendous accomplishment, and a brave testament to Enlightenment-era ideals.
The Philosopher's Kiss delves into the lives of the people involved in its conception and publication, from Diderot and his publisher, André le Breton, to the philosopher Rousseau, the statesman Malesherbes, and royal mistress Madame de Pompadour, who supported it and had her own ways of defending its purpose to the king, Louis XV.
Its main character, however, is Sophie Volland, a shadowy figure in French intellectual history who was Diderot's lover and longtime confidante. Over a hundred of his letters to her survive, but not the reverse. In the novel, she's a literate young woman, unusual for her day, who is torn between the religious obedience forced on her as a child, her pursuit of knowledge, and her need for love. She becomes involved with the Encyclopédie's development in a number of ways.
I find the English translation of the title (originally Die Philosophin in German, or "The Lady Philosopher") rather unfortunate because it emphasizes the romance aspects, which I found overblown, over the real meat and strength of the novel: the intellectual discourses among the free-thinkers of Paris, the cultural milieu, the religious controversies that resulted when long-held tenets of faith were challenged. C'est dommage.
Because little is known about Mlle Volland, Prange takes a number of liberties with her character for the story's sake, some of which can be considered inspired guesswork, others of which seem unlikely. An author's note at the end ("Fiction and Truth") sets forth details on the many actual historical events dramatized in the book. I've been reading up on the historical Sophie (whose birth name was apparently Louise-Henriette) ever since. I recommend the novel for its depiction of a transformative event, and also recommend that potential readers investigate the history on their own.
The Philosopher's Kiss was published in 2011 by Atria, and translated into English by Steven T. Murray. This was a personal copy I'd left sitting on my shelves for way too long. Prange is a bestselling author in Germany who wrote many other historicals, but this, unfortunately, is his only work in English translation.
In France in the mid-18th century, however, circumstances were far different. Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d'Alembert, the principal editors of the noted Encyclopédie, risked life and liberty to produce the first work of its kind in the French language.
In their quest to provide comprehensive treatment of the arts, sciences, and trades via commissioned articles from notable contributors, their masterwork emphasized human thought and accomplishments over theology. The Church took offense, and government censors kept close watch on the project. The 28 volumes of the Encyclopédie appeared over the course of 21 years and were supported by the funding of an increasing number of eager subscribers. In the end, it stands as a tremendous accomplishment, and a brave testament to Enlightenment-era ideals.
The Philosopher's Kiss delves into the lives of the people involved in its conception and publication, from Diderot and his publisher, André le Breton, to the philosopher Rousseau, the statesman Malesherbes, and royal mistress Madame de Pompadour, who supported it and had her own ways of defending its purpose to the king, Louis XV.
Its main character, however, is Sophie Volland, a shadowy figure in French intellectual history who was Diderot's lover and longtime confidante. Over a hundred of his letters to her survive, but not the reverse. In the novel, she's a literate young woman, unusual for her day, who is torn between the religious obedience forced on her as a child, her pursuit of knowledge, and her need for love. She becomes involved with the Encyclopédie's development in a number of ways.
I find the English translation of the title (originally Die Philosophin in German, or "The Lady Philosopher") rather unfortunate because it emphasizes the romance aspects, which I found overblown, over the real meat and strength of the novel: the intellectual discourses among the free-thinkers of Paris, the cultural milieu, the religious controversies that resulted when long-held tenets of faith were challenged. C'est dommage.
Because little is known about Mlle Volland, Prange takes a number of liberties with her character for the story's sake, some of which can be considered inspired guesswork, others of which seem unlikely. An author's note at the end ("Fiction and Truth") sets forth details on the many actual historical events dramatized in the book. I've been reading up on the historical Sophie (whose birth name was apparently Louise-Henriette) ever since. I recommend the novel for its depiction of a transformative event, and also recommend that potential readers investigate the history on their own.
The Philosopher's Kiss was published in 2011 by Atria, and translated into English by Steven T. Murray. This was a personal copy I'd left sitting on my shelves for way too long. Prange is a bestselling author in Germany who wrote many other historicals, but this, unfortunately, is his only work in English translation.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
A recipe for deception: Martine Bailey's An Appetite for Violets
Biddy Leigh, the lead character of Martine Bailey's debut novel, works as the under-cook at Mawton Hall in Cheshire in the 1770s. Adorning each chapter opening are the recipes she consults and writes in a household book she carries on her adventures.
Written by an award-winning amateur cook, An Appetite for Violets fits as “foodie fiction,” a mini-genre that compels reviewers to pull culinary metaphors out of their cupboards and serve them up for readers’ delectation. (See? It's almost too easy.) That said, while some books of this type can feel gimmicky, this is a full-fledged historical novel that presents late 18th-century England and Europe from a servant's viewpoint.
The roles of food as nourishment, entertainment, a reflection of social class, and a way to connect to women of the past are all gently spun into the story. It’s all topped off with a sweet romance and more than a touch of Gothic creepiness. The recipes themselves ("receipts," in period parlance) are the icing on the cake.
The plot takes the form of a Georgian-era road trip, and Biddy’s voice – good-natured, fresh, and full of colorful regionalisms – makes her an appealing guide. In one amusing example, revealing her family background, she says that her "old da... fancied himself a roaring dissenter, but all I ever saw him dissent from was a hard day’s work.” The action starts when her elderly master’s young second wife, Lady Carinna, shows up at Mawton alone and unannounced, then demands an escort to her uncle’s villa in Italy. “I reckon she brings only trouble here,” says Biddy, all too correctly.
Fashionable and fine-looking but with unorthodox habits, Lady Carinna’s a bit strange, but she likes Biddy’s cooking and Biddy herself – and orders her to come along and dish up good English fare along the way. Biddy forms a friendship with Mr Loveday, the footman, whose non-western background is highlighted. Smart and literate yet lonely, he’s a former warrior from Batavia who mentally escapes from the drudgery through dreams of his previous life. The servant’s lot is a lowly and demeaning one, that’s apparent, but from sophisticated Paris to the Alps of Savoy to the gloomy and aptly named Villa Ombrosa in Tuscany, ambitious Biddy keeps her good sense and finds new opportunities to up her culinary game.
Letters travel back and forth from others as their party heads south, which leave Mr Loveday and Biddy wondering about the true reasons behind their travels. The story remains absorbing throughout, and the suspense gradually increases as the story behind the ghastly scene in the prologue comes to light. This scrumptiously satisfying work will leave readers eagerly awaiting the author’s next fictional creation, foodie or otherwise.
An Appetite for Violets was published in January by St. Martin's Press ($26.99 US/Can, hb, 391pp). It was published in the UK by Hodder Paperbacks in January as well (£7.99). Thanks to the publisher for sending me an ARC at my request.
Written by an award-winning amateur cook, An Appetite for Violets fits as “foodie fiction,” a mini-genre that compels reviewers to pull culinary metaphors out of their cupboards and serve them up for readers’ delectation. (See? It's almost too easy.) That said, while some books of this type can feel gimmicky, this is a full-fledged historical novel that presents late 18th-century England and Europe from a servant's viewpoint.
The roles of food as nourishment, entertainment, a reflection of social class, and a way to connect to women of the past are all gently spun into the story. It’s all topped off with a sweet romance and more than a touch of Gothic creepiness. The recipes themselves ("receipts," in period parlance) are the icing on the cake.
The plot takes the form of a Georgian-era road trip, and Biddy’s voice – good-natured, fresh, and full of colorful regionalisms – makes her an appealing guide. In one amusing example, revealing her family background, she says that her "old da... fancied himself a roaring dissenter, but all I ever saw him dissent from was a hard day’s work.” The action starts when her elderly master’s young second wife, Lady Carinna, shows up at Mawton alone and unannounced, then demands an escort to her uncle’s villa in Italy. “I reckon she brings only trouble here,” says Biddy, all too correctly.
Fashionable and fine-looking but with unorthodox habits, Lady Carinna’s a bit strange, but she likes Biddy’s cooking and Biddy herself – and orders her to come along and dish up good English fare along the way. Biddy forms a friendship with Mr Loveday, the footman, whose non-western background is highlighted. Smart and literate yet lonely, he’s a former warrior from Batavia who mentally escapes from the drudgery through dreams of his previous life. The servant’s lot is a lowly and demeaning one, that’s apparent, but from sophisticated Paris to the Alps of Savoy to the gloomy and aptly named Villa Ombrosa in Tuscany, ambitious Biddy keeps her good sense and finds new opportunities to up her culinary game.
Letters travel back and forth from others as their party heads south, which leave Mr Loveday and Biddy wondering about the true reasons behind their travels. The story remains absorbing throughout, and the suspense gradually increases as the story behind the ghastly scene in the prologue comes to light. This scrumptiously satisfying work will leave readers eagerly awaiting the author’s next fictional creation, foodie or otherwise.
An Appetite for Violets was published in January by St. Martin's Press ($26.99 US/Can, hb, 391pp). It was published in the UK by Hodder Paperbacks in January as well (£7.99). Thanks to the publisher for sending me an ARC at my request.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
The weight of history: Orhan's Inheritance by Aline Ohanesian
When Orhan Türkoğlu comes home to Kerod in Anatolia after the death of his grandfather, Kemal, the driver of his hired car praises him for returning. “So many young people leave their villages and never come back,” he says.
The statement has a double meaning the speaker didn't intend but which the reader will come to understand. Back in 1915, countless young Armenians, along with their families, had been forced out of their villages in the Ottoman Empire and into the Syrian desert. Only vestiges of their historical presence remain today in their homeland.
Thus begins a novel that works as an entertaining story and a learning experience – for the reader and, in different ways, for its two protagonists. Orhan comes face to face with his country’s shameful, unacknowledged past after learning that his grandfather had left him his rug business, skipping over his irritated father, but willed their family’s ancestral house to an Armenian woman, Seda Melkonian, living in a California nursing home.
Aline Ohanesian has made several wise decisions in structuring her debut novel, which is set partly in 1990, partly a century ago. Rather than jumping back and forth frequently between the two eras and several viewpoints, which could have felt abrupt and dizzying, she gives all of her narratives sufficient time to build and take hold.
Also, from Orhan and Kemal to Orhan’s Auntie Fatma, whose tart and feisty attitude spices things up, to the elderly Seda, who feels weighted down by a personal history she can’t escape, her characters are as well-developed as her plots. It's an emotional page-turner of a book, and while it doesn’t shy away from the horrors the Armenians suffered at Turkish hands, it also doesn’t malign an entire people.
And finally, with her intimate focus on one family’s tragic losses, she conveys the enormity of the devastation wrought upon their ethnic group. The Melkonians’ story is both unique and universal.
Those who enjoy piecing together mysteries will find much to appreciate in Orhan’s Inheritance, since no single individual has all the information to resolve a historical puzzle. For prospective readers, the less said about the plot’s specifics here, the better.
Basing her moving work on her great-grandmother’s early life, Ohanesian shows how the past must be acknowledged, and ignorance abolished, in order to move forward. As the centennial of the Armenian Genocide is observed this month, with widespread commemorations and continued urgings for more official recognition, there should be no question that this work of historical fiction – and history itself – has incredible relevance for today.
Orhan's Inheritance was published this month by Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill (hb, $25.95, 352pp). Thanks to the publisher for the copy that showed up in my mailbox.
The statement has a double meaning the speaker didn't intend but which the reader will come to understand. Back in 1915, countless young Armenians, along with their families, had been forced out of their villages in the Ottoman Empire and into the Syrian desert. Only vestiges of their historical presence remain today in their homeland.
Thus begins a novel that works as an entertaining story and a learning experience – for the reader and, in different ways, for its two protagonists. Orhan comes face to face with his country’s shameful, unacknowledged past after learning that his grandfather had left him his rug business, skipping over his irritated father, but willed their family’s ancestral house to an Armenian woman, Seda Melkonian, living in a California nursing home.
Aline Ohanesian has made several wise decisions in structuring her debut novel, which is set partly in 1990, partly a century ago. Rather than jumping back and forth frequently between the two eras and several viewpoints, which could have felt abrupt and dizzying, she gives all of her narratives sufficient time to build and take hold.
Also, from Orhan and Kemal to Orhan’s Auntie Fatma, whose tart and feisty attitude spices things up, to the elderly Seda, who feels weighted down by a personal history she can’t escape, her characters are as well-developed as her plots. It's an emotional page-turner of a book, and while it doesn’t shy away from the horrors the Armenians suffered at Turkish hands, it also doesn’t malign an entire people.
And finally, with her intimate focus on one family’s tragic losses, she conveys the enormity of the devastation wrought upon their ethnic group. The Melkonians’ story is both unique and universal.
Those who enjoy piecing together mysteries will find much to appreciate in Orhan’s Inheritance, since no single individual has all the information to resolve a historical puzzle. For prospective readers, the less said about the plot’s specifics here, the better.
Basing her moving work on her great-grandmother’s early life, Ohanesian shows how the past must be acknowledged, and ignorance abolished, in order to move forward. As the centennial of the Armenian Genocide is observed this month, with widespread commemorations and continued urgings for more official recognition, there should be no question that this work of historical fiction – and history itself – has incredible relevance for today.
Orhan's Inheritance was published this month by Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill (hb, $25.95, 352pp). Thanks to the publisher for the copy that showed up in my mailbox.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
The underside of Gilded Age New York: Leslie Parry's Church of Marvels
“Life is uncommon and strange; it is full of intricacies and odd, confounding turns.” This statement made by the opening narrator of Parry’s creative debut also describes its characters and story line, which bursts with extraordinary, Dickensian-style details of 1895 New York.
Amid the city’s grimy waterfronts, opium dens, and other lowlife regions, four impoverished misfits pursue separate missions. The discovery of a newborn baby in the privies outside a tenement prompts Sylvan Threadgill to locate the child’s mother, while Odile Church leaves Coney Island to find her sister, Belle, her sideshow partner before fire killed their courageous mother and destroyed their circus. Lastly, young Alphie waits for her undertaker husband to rescue her from an asylum. Their stories twine together in ways that feel surprising when first encountered but were actually carefully planted from the start.
Emphasizing the plight of women, orphans, and society’s nonconforming outcasts, the setting is superbly showcased, with its medley of sights and smells both wretched and wondrous. Especially recommended for admirers of atmospheric nineteenth-century historicals like Emma Donoghue’s Frog Music (2014).
Church of Marvels will be published on May 5th by Ecco (hb, $26.99, 320pp) and in June by Two Roads in the UK (hb, £16.99). This review first appeared in Booklist's April 15th issue, which has a special focus on historical fiction.
I've mentioned here before that I'm not usually drawn to novels dealing with circuses, fairs, magicians, etc.. Growing up hearing grisly tales of the Hartford Circus Fire (1944) and with a fear of clowns had that effect on me. However, after reading and reviewing a few of these books and enjoying them very much, it may be time to revise my opinions. Or at least make exceptions!
Amid the city’s grimy waterfronts, opium dens, and other lowlife regions, four impoverished misfits pursue separate missions. The discovery of a newborn baby in the privies outside a tenement prompts Sylvan Threadgill to locate the child’s mother, while Odile Church leaves Coney Island to find her sister, Belle, her sideshow partner before fire killed their courageous mother and destroyed their circus. Lastly, young Alphie waits for her undertaker husband to rescue her from an asylum. Their stories twine together in ways that feel surprising when first encountered but were actually carefully planted from the start.
Emphasizing the plight of women, orphans, and society’s nonconforming outcasts, the setting is superbly showcased, with its medley of sights and smells both wretched and wondrous. Especially recommended for admirers of atmospheric nineteenth-century historicals like Emma Donoghue’s Frog Music (2014).
Church of Marvels will be published on May 5th by Ecco (hb, $26.99, 320pp) and in June by Two Roads in the UK (hb, £16.99). This review first appeared in Booklist's April 15th issue, which has a special focus on historical fiction.
I've mentioned here before that I'm not usually drawn to novels dealing with circuses, fairs, magicians, etc.. Growing up hearing grisly tales of the Hartford Circus Fire (1944) and with a fear of clowns had that effect on me. However, after reading and reviewing a few of these books and enjoying them very much, it may be time to revise my opinions. Or at least make exceptions!
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Bits and pieces of historical fiction news
A few announcements and links I've picked up here and there.
First is that I'm signing up for the Australian Women Writers Challenge. It's been a few years since I participated in a reading challenge, aside from the annual Goodreads one, and this one fits my current reading and interests. The challenge is open to everyone, regardless of geographic location, so I'm in. There are many excellent historical novelists from Australia, and I like the concept behind the challenge: to support and promote books by Australian women.
It helps that I've already read three novels that fit the criteria, so I'm choosing the Miles level - reading six, reviewing at least four. This should be no problem, especially with Kate Morton's The Lake House (which has cover art posted - go look!) and Kate Forsyth's The Wild Girl set to be published in the US this year, among others. I also have Posie Graeme-Evans' Wild Wood on the TBR.
A review I linked up on the Historical Novel Society's FB group yesterday has provoked a lot of discussion on the value (or not) that author's notes and bibliographies have for historical novels. In her mostly positive New York Times review of Aislinn Hunter's new dual-period novel The World Before Us, Penelope Lively spent a paragraph criticizing the existence of Hunter's 3 1/2-page acknowledgments section. An excerpt:
It seems to be mandatory nowadays for a novelist (especially a historical novelist) to conclude with an extensive list of source material, along with copious thanks in all directions, as if this were a doctoral thesis rather than a work of fiction. I wish this weren’t so. I don’t want to know about the ballast of research. I want simply to enjoy the author’s evocative skill without being told how it was primed.
Do these extras interest you as a reader, or do they pull you out of the experience? You can see the acknowledgments pages via Google Books (scroll to the very end). Hunter lists four main print resources and a number of people. I was surprised that a reviewer would object to an author thanking her sources, including individuals who gave her access to private archives, answered her questions, and provided her with funding; it seemed like proper acknowledgment rather than scholarly excess.
From a week ago last Sunday, Laura Miller's piece on "our enduring Tudor obsession" praises Wolf Hall (print and TV) while denigrating shows like The Tudors and what she terms "princess novels," such as those written by Jean Plaidy and Philippa Gregory, for their supposed emphasis on sex and fashion over serious matters such as politics. Novelist Elizabeth Fremantle provides an excellent rebuttal to many of Miller's points for The History Girls blog. The comments to the latter are worth reading, too. Novelists who write about women's lives and issues still struggle to be taken seriously.
The shortlist for the Bailey's Women's Prize for Fiction was just announced, and out of the six titles, four have historical components: A God in Every Stone by Kamila Shamsie, taking place around WWI and later; How to Be Both by Ali Smith, a "literary double-take" set now and in 15th-c Italy; A Spool of Blue Thread by Anne Tyler, moving from the late '50s forward; and The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters, set in 1920s London.
First is that I'm signing up for the Australian Women Writers Challenge. It's been a few years since I participated in a reading challenge, aside from the annual Goodreads one, and this one fits my current reading and interests. The challenge is open to everyone, regardless of geographic location, so I'm in. There are many excellent historical novelists from Australia, and I like the concept behind the challenge: to support and promote books by Australian women.
It helps that I've already read three novels that fit the criteria, so I'm choosing the Miles level - reading six, reviewing at least four. This should be no problem, especially with Kate Morton's The Lake House (which has cover art posted - go look!) and Kate Forsyth's The Wild Girl set to be published in the US this year, among others. I also have Posie Graeme-Evans' Wild Wood on the TBR.
~
A review I linked up on the Historical Novel Society's FB group yesterday has provoked a lot of discussion on the value (or not) that author's notes and bibliographies have for historical novels. In her mostly positive New York Times review of Aislinn Hunter's new dual-period novel The World Before Us, Penelope Lively spent a paragraph criticizing the existence of Hunter's 3 1/2-page acknowledgments section. An excerpt:
It seems to be mandatory nowadays for a novelist (especially a historical novelist) to conclude with an extensive list of source material, along with copious thanks in all directions, as if this were a doctoral thesis rather than a work of fiction. I wish this weren’t so. I don’t want to know about the ballast of research. I want simply to enjoy the author’s evocative skill without being told how it was primed.
Do these extras interest you as a reader, or do they pull you out of the experience? You can see the acknowledgments pages via Google Books (scroll to the very end). Hunter lists four main print resources and a number of people. I was surprised that a reviewer would object to an author thanking her sources, including individuals who gave her access to private archives, answered her questions, and provided her with funding; it seemed like proper acknowledgment rather than scholarly excess.
~
From a week ago last Sunday, Laura Miller's piece on "our enduring Tudor obsession" praises Wolf Hall (print and TV) while denigrating shows like The Tudors and what she terms "princess novels," such as those written by Jean Plaidy and Philippa Gregory, for their supposed emphasis on sex and fashion over serious matters such as politics. Novelist Elizabeth Fremantle provides an excellent rebuttal to many of Miller's points for The History Girls blog. The comments to the latter are worth reading, too. Novelists who write about women's lives and issues still struggle to be taken seriously.
~
The shortlist for the Bailey's Women's Prize for Fiction was just announced, and out of the six titles, four have historical components: A God in Every Stone by Kamila Shamsie, taking place around WWI and later; How to Be Both by Ali Smith, a "literary double-take" set now and in 15th-c Italy; A Spool of Blue Thread by Anne Tyler, moving from the late '50s forward; and The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters, set in 1920s London.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
A woman's quest for independence in medieval England: Karen Brooks' The Brewer's Tale
Karen Brooks’ The Brewer’s Tale will be a treasure for readers who appreciate an accurately rendered medieval setting and characters who reflect the era. The time frame (the later years of Henry IV’s reign) isn’t one often showcased in historical fiction, especially from a tradeswoman’s perspective.
All of the details on the production of ale and beer in early 15th-century England are fascinating to read – from the collection of ingredients to the actual brewing, the quality testing by officials called ale-conners, and the regulations covering sales and distribution.
On the other hand, the novel’s heroine meets with almost every possible calamity. While the fluid prose is compulsively readable, the periods of uneven plotting made for a bumpy experience. Rarely have I read a novel that provoked such a mixed reaction on my part.
After her father’s death at sea, and upon learning that her home and wealth no longer belong to her family, Anneke Sheldrake takes an unusual step. Using knowledge passed down from her Dutch mother, she decides to start a brewery business to provide for herself, her orphaned siblings, and the servants who depend on them.
But Anneke is a single woman from a respected merchant family, and her decision is greeted with disbelief and shock. Her going into trade herself means deliberately lowering her social status, which is incomprehensible to those around her. “It’s like a sackcloth you can never shuck,” her steward, Adam, tells her. “Once you step in this direction, you can never go back.” Brooks deserves credit for faithfully depicting the social strictures faced by her courageous protagonist.
Anneke’s journey toward independence meets with great success in some avenues – with her secret recipes, her brews are a huge hit – but it’s fraught with difficulties. Monks from the nearby friary have their own competing brew and aren’t afraid to play dirty. Anneke’s cousin becomes more spiteful than ever. And that’s just the beginning. I understand her life isn’t meant to be easy, but some episodes felt so over-the-top dramatic that I put the book down at several points, not sure if I wanted to continue. In the end, I’m glad I persisted.
In addition to the realistic late medieval atmosphere, other highlights include Anneke’s relationships with the people who support her, including Adam, a servant-turned-friend and father figure; an older businesswoman, Alyson, who was plucked right out of Chaucer’s world; and a man who becomes an unexpected love interest.
“You’ve endured more than anyone has a right,” Anneke is told at one point, after yet another period of misfortune. I can’t help but agree. She’s a character desperately in need of a satisfying ending – and this lengthy, entertaining, and sometimes frustrating book provides one at last.
The Brewer's Tale was published by Harlequin MIRA Australia in October 2014 (trade pb, 582pp, Au$32.99). For those outside Australia, it's available at Fishpond for US$24.97, postpaid. The paperback's not listed at Amazon.com, but the Audible version is. Thanks to the publisher for sending me a NetGalley widget.
All of the details on the production of ale and beer in early 15th-century England are fascinating to read – from the collection of ingredients to the actual brewing, the quality testing by officials called ale-conners, and the regulations covering sales and distribution.
On the other hand, the novel’s heroine meets with almost every possible calamity. While the fluid prose is compulsively readable, the periods of uneven plotting made for a bumpy experience. Rarely have I read a novel that provoked such a mixed reaction on my part.
After her father’s death at sea, and upon learning that her home and wealth no longer belong to her family, Anneke Sheldrake takes an unusual step. Using knowledge passed down from her Dutch mother, she decides to start a brewery business to provide for herself, her orphaned siblings, and the servants who depend on them.
But Anneke is a single woman from a respected merchant family, and her decision is greeted with disbelief and shock. Her going into trade herself means deliberately lowering her social status, which is incomprehensible to those around her. “It’s like a sackcloth you can never shuck,” her steward, Adam, tells her. “Once you step in this direction, you can never go back.” Brooks deserves credit for faithfully depicting the social strictures faced by her courageous protagonist.
Anneke’s journey toward independence meets with great success in some avenues – with her secret recipes, her brews are a huge hit – but it’s fraught with difficulties. Monks from the nearby friary have their own competing brew and aren’t afraid to play dirty. Anneke’s cousin becomes more spiteful than ever. And that’s just the beginning. I understand her life isn’t meant to be easy, but some episodes felt so over-the-top dramatic that I put the book down at several points, not sure if I wanted to continue. In the end, I’m glad I persisted.
In addition to the realistic late medieval atmosphere, other highlights include Anneke’s relationships with the people who support her, including Adam, a servant-turned-friend and father figure; an older businesswoman, Alyson, who was plucked right out of Chaucer’s world; and a man who becomes an unexpected love interest.
“You’ve endured more than anyone has a right,” Anneke is told at one point, after yet another period of misfortune. I can’t help but agree. She’s a character desperately in need of a satisfying ending – and this lengthy, entertaining, and sometimes frustrating book provides one at last.
The Brewer's Tale was published by Harlequin MIRA Australia in October 2014 (trade pb, 582pp, Au$32.99). For those outside Australia, it's available at Fishpond for US$24.97, postpaid. The paperback's not listed at Amazon.com, but the Audible version is. Thanks to the publisher for sending me a NetGalley widget.
Wednesday, April 08, 2015
A mystery with music: Laura Lebow's The Figaro Murders
While some members of my extended family are skilled musicians, violinists and opera composers among them, I’m about as musically talented as a cardboard box. Fortunately, this didn’t inhibit my appreciation of Laura Lebow’s The Figaro Murders, which transforms Lorenzo Da Ponte, the real-life librettist for Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro, into a reluctant sleuth.
The setting is Vienna in 1786, a city ruled over by the tolerant, progressive-minded emperor, Joseph II, son of Maria Theresa (and brother of Marie-Antoinette). Da Ponte, the court poet, is on deadline for a couple of important commissions, but he doesn’t mind taking time out to help a friend.
Just before he’s carted off to debtors’ prison, his barber, Johann Vogel, who had recently discovered he was adopted, begs Da Ponte to find his real parents. If they’re from the nobility, they may have the funds to secure Vogel’s release.
The situation gets dicey, though, when Da Ponte drops by to see Vogel’s fiancée, a maid at the Palais Gabler. Hours after Da Ponte’s visit, an annoying aristocratic boy from the Palais is found dead, pushed out of an upper-storey window. Accused of the crime and threatened by Pergen, the minister of police, Da Ponte has only one way to clear his name: he must install himself in the household of the Baron Gabler, the prospective ambassador to St. Petersburg, and root out a suspected Prussian spy.
The amiable Da Ponte makes for good company. Admittedly bored by politics, he doubts his abilities to find the perpetrator despite his healthy ego. “Did Pergen really believe that I could solve this crime? True, I am intelligent and observant, as every poet must be…. But hunting down a spy and a murderer! How had I gotten myself into this mess?”
On top of that stress, to pull off his assumed role as poetry teacher to the Baron’s wife, he has to eat with and lodge alongside the servants. How demeaning! Adding even more intrigue is Da Ponte’s hidden past, and assuming this is first in a series, I look forward to seeing how it features in upcoming books.
European politics, a hint of romance, and the staging of a now-famous opera all play roles in this engaging debut mystery. Spending time in the cultured world of 18th-century Vienna is a highlight. Per her bio, Lebow has a master’s in City Planning, and I could easily picture the layout of Vienna under her direction: its narrow streets, market squares, bureaucratic district, and popular theatres. It was only with the architectural terms that I found myself stumbling, needing to look up what entablatures and telamones were.
For those interested in catching glimpses of Mozart, the “small composer” himself, he’s presented as a devoted husband and father who happens to have impressive musical gifts. Da Ponte is the star here, though, a deliberate choice on Lebow’s part (read her informative author’s note for more). In her solidly researched novel, the librettist gets his turn in the spotlight.
The Figaro Murders was published on March 31st by Minotaur ($24.99 / C$28.99, 320pp + author's note). Thanks to the publisher for sending me a copy.
The setting is Vienna in 1786, a city ruled over by the tolerant, progressive-minded emperor, Joseph II, son of Maria Theresa (and brother of Marie-Antoinette). Da Ponte, the court poet, is on deadline for a couple of important commissions, but he doesn’t mind taking time out to help a friend.
Just before he’s carted off to debtors’ prison, his barber, Johann Vogel, who had recently discovered he was adopted, begs Da Ponte to find his real parents. If they’re from the nobility, they may have the funds to secure Vogel’s release.
The situation gets dicey, though, when Da Ponte drops by to see Vogel’s fiancée, a maid at the Palais Gabler. Hours after Da Ponte’s visit, an annoying aristocratic boy from the Palais is found dead, pushed out of an upper-storey window. Accused of the crime and threatened by Pergen, the minister of police, Da Ponte has only one way to clear his name: he must install himself in the household of the Baron Gabler, the prospective ambassador to St. Petersburg, and root out a suspected Prussian spy.
The amiable Da Ponte makes for good company. Admittedly bored by politics, he doubts his abilities to find the perpetrator despite his healthy ego. “Did Pergen really believe that I could solve this crime? True, I am intelligent and observant, as every poet must be…. But hunting down a spy and a murderer! How had I gotten myself into this mess?”
On top of that stress, to pull off his assumed role as poetry teacher to the Baron’s wife, he has to eat with and lodge alongside the servants. How demeaning! Adding even more intrigue is Da Ponte’s hidden past, and assuming this is first in a series, I look forward to seeing how it features in upcoming books.
European politics, a hint of romance, and the staging of a now-famous opera all play roles in this engaging debut mystery. Spending time in the cultured world of 18th-century Vienna is a highlight. Per her bio, Lebow has a master’s in City Planning, and I could easily picture the layout of Vienna under her direction: its narrow streets, market squares, bureaucratic district, and popular theatres. It was only with the architectural terms that I found myself stumbling, needing to look up what entablatures and telamones were.
For those interested in catching glimpses of Mozart, the “small composer” himself, he’s presented as a devoted husband and father who happens to have impressive musical gifts. Da Ponte is the star here, though, a deliberate choice on Lebow’s part (read her informative author’s note for more). In her solidly researched novel, the librettist gets his turn in the spotlight.
The Figaro Murders was published on March 31st by Minotaur ($24.99 / C$28.99, 320pp + author's note). Thanks to the publisher for sending me a copy.
Sunday, April 05, 2015
The fictional memoirs of George Sand: Elizabeth Berg's The Dream Lover
This work marks best-selling writer Berg’s first major venture into biographical historical fiction, a move that’s partly successful. Her subject is exciting and on-trend: George Sand, the nineteenth-century French writer whose insightful novels took readers by storm, and whose cross-dressing persona and many love affairs scandalized contemporary society.
Born Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin in 1804, she lived by her own rules, and her imagined voice—warm, sincere, and wise—is wonderfully disarming. As Sand examines her past, from her tense relationships with blood relations through her unhappy marriage and subsequent flight to independence in Paris, we’re introduced to this fascinating woman.
Berg’s descriptive skills are remarkable throughout, but Sand’s actions are too often reported from a distance rather than dramatized. This memoir-like style lets us learn about and admire Sand without placing us in the moment with her. There are exceptions, though, such as her scenes with actress Marie Dorval—her deepest, most passionate attachment—and her philosophical reflections on her continued search for love. It’s at these times that her story feels most immediate and alive.
The Dream Lover is published on April 14th by Random House (hardcover, $28, 368pp). It appears on the LibraryReads list for April. This review first appeared in Booklist's Feb 15th issue.
The novel is being heavily promoted, and the packaging is gorgeous. The flourishes on the image above are a little less prominent on the real thing, and her hair blends in more with the dark background. From the moment I first saw it, I wondered if the image was a softened version of German artist Joseph Karl Stieler's portrait of Nanette Kaula, which appears in Ludwig I's Gallery of Beauties. The jacket doesn't say, but based on the listed source for the painting, it's possible.
Born Amantine-Lucile-Aurore Dupin in 1804, she lived by her own rules, and her imagined voice—warm, sincere, and wise—is wonderfully disarming. As Sand examines her past, from her tense relationships with blood relations through her unhappy marriage and subsequent flight to independence in Paris, we’re introduced to this fascinating woman.
Berg’s descriptive skills are remarkable throughout, but Sand’s actions are too often reported from a distance rather than dramatized. This memoir-like style lets us learn about and admire Sand without placing us in the moment with her. There are exceptions, though, such as her scenes with actress Marie Dorval—her deepest, most passionate attachment—and her philosophical reflections on her continued search for love. It’s at these times that her story feels most immediate and alive.
The Dream Lover is published on April 14th by Random House (hardcover, $28, 368pp). It appears on the LibraryReads list for April. This review first appeared in Booklist's Feb 15th issue.
The novel is being heavily promoted, and the packaging is gorgeous. The flourishes on the image above are a little less prominent on the real thing, and her hair blends in more with the dark background. From the moment I first saw it, I wondered if the image was a softened version of German artist Joseph Karl Stieler's portrait of Nanette Kaula, which appears in Ludwig I's Gallery of Beauties. The jacket doesn't say, but based on the listed source for the painting, it's possible.
Friday, April 03, 2015
Paula Brackston's The Silver Witch, a novel of Welsh mystery and magic - plus giveaway
Paula Brackston spins tales of history, mystery, and romance that layer contemporary and historical plotlines with a strong dose of the paranormal. Her absorbing latest follows the journeys of two women living eleven centuries apart along the same lake in central Wales.
Parallels between them are drawn early on, since they share much in common: their unusual pale looks, their living alone, and their mysterious talents (honored and feared in the case of one of them; raw and uncontrolled in the other, at least as the novel begins).
Seren is a witch and shaman who uses her powers to serve Prince Brynach, whose royal palace sits atop a small crannog, or man-made island, in the lake’s center. The setting is nebulous at first: descriptions of Seren’s wolf-pelt headdress, her visions, and other pagan practices call to mind some ancient Celtic past. The images Seren sees predict betrayal and danger for Brynach, but she has doubters - including Brynach himself, who can’t imagine a traitor in his midst.
Her modern counterpart is Tilda Fordwells, an accomplished sculptor whose plan to begin her married life near Llangors Lake crumbled after Mat’s sudden death in a car accident. Now, living by herself in what would have been their dream cottage, she notices strange things, like electrical failures wherever she goes, visions of people from the past, and an odd sensation about an archaeological dig happening nearby.
As Seren’s tale becomes more historically centered, with details eventually anchoring itself in the early 10th century, Tilda’s tale takes progressively more supernatural turns. It makes for a creative blend, and as the stories continue, the women’s connections become more obvious.
The title partly refers to the women's silver-blond hair, a result of their albinism. The fact that both have "special powers" is a bit cliché, although they aren't the only characters to have magical abilities. Also, in contrast to stereotypically negative portrayals (like in The Da Vinci Code), the novel provides a sympathetic depiction of this oft-misunderstood condition. In the case of Tilda, for example, it’s explained how her albinism meets with uncomfortable stares and makes her eyes sensitive to light.
In parts, The Silver Witch calls to mind The Mists of Avalon for its mystical lakeside atmosphere, and James Long’s Ferney for its sense of the inescapable past. Although it’s neither Arthurian nor a reincarnation story, admirers of both books would do well to check it out.
While some supernatural aspects feel over the top, and the portent-heavy prologue feels unnecessary, it succeeds in evoking people’s deep ties to a place and creatively imagines a lesser-known historical episode – one found in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The plot couldn’t legitimately take place anywhere else, and like all good historical fiction, fantastical or otherwise, it should spur readers to learn more about the place that inspired it.
The Silver Witch is published by Thomas Dunne in April in hardcover ($25.99, Can$29.99). Thanks to the publisher for sending me an ARC. For your chance to win a copy of your own, fill out the form below. If the winner is based in the US, the publisher will supply the copy; if outside the US, I'll send you mine. Deadline Friday, April 10th.
The giveaway has ended. Congratulations to Kathy W! Please reply within the next week to claim your book.
Parallels between them are drawn early on, since they share much in common: their unusual pale looks, their living alone, and their mysterious talents (honored and feared in the case of one of them; raw and uncontrolled in the other, at least as the novel begins).
Seren is a witch and shaman who uses her powers to serve Prince Brynach, whose royal palace sits atop a small crannog, or man-made island, in the lake’s center. The setting is nebulous at first: descriptions of Seren’s wolf-pelt headdress, her visions, and other pagan practices call to mind some ancient Celtic past. The images Seren sees predict betrayal and danger for Brynach, but she has doubters - including Brynach himself, who can’t imagine a traitor in his midst.
Her modern counterpart is Tilda Fordwells, an accomplished sculptor whose plan to begin her married life near Llangors Lake crumbled after Mat’s sudden death in a car accident. Now, living by herself in what would have been their dream cottage, she notices strange things, like electrical failures wherever she goes, visions of people from the past, and an odd sensation about an archaeological dig happening nearby.
As Seren’s tale becomes more historically centered, with details eventually anchoring itself in the early 10th century, Tilda’s tale takes progressively more supernatural turns. It makes for a creative blend, and as the stories continue, the women’s connections become more obvious.
The title partly refers to the women's silver-blond hair, a result of their albinism. The fact that both have "special powers" is a bit cliché, although they aren't the only characters to have magical abilities. Also, in contrast to stereotypically negative portrayals (like in The Da Vinci Code), the novel provides a sympathetic depiction of this oft-misunderstood condition. In the case of Tilda, for example, it’s explained how her albinism meets with uncomfortable stares and makes her eyes sensitive to light.
In parts, The Silver Witch calls to mind The Mists of Avalon for its mystical lakeside atmosphere, and James Long’s Ferney for its sense of the inescapable past. Although it’s neither Arthurian nor a reincarnation story, admirers of both books would do well to check it out.
While some supernatural aspects feel over the top, and the portent-heavy prologue feels unnecessary, it succeeds in evoking people’s deep ties to a place and creatively imagines a lesser-known historical episode – one found in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The plot couldn’t legitimately take place anywhere else, and like all good historical fiction, fantastical or otherwise, it should spur readers to learn more about the place that inspired it.
| Llangors Crannog, public domain photo |
The Silver Witch is published by Thomas Dunne in April in hardcover ($25.99, Can$29.99). Thanks to the publisher for sending me an ARC. For your chance to win a copy of your own, fill out the form below. If the winner is based in the US, the publisher will supply the copy; if outside the US, I'll send you mine. Deadline Friday, April 10th.
The giveaway has ended. Congratulations to Kathy W! Please reply within the next week to claim your book.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
New & upcoming historical novels in celebration of Women's History Month, part 2
Here's part two of my gallery of historical novels by women, about women - just finished under the wire, since March is almost over. Part 1 can be found here.
Marci Jefferson's second novel (after Girl on the Golden Coin) is about Marie Mancini, one of the famous nieces of the ruthlessly powerful Cardinal Mazarin in the Sun King's court. Thomas Dunne, May.

Mackin's newest historical title will introduce readers to a little-known woman who deserves recognition: Beatrix Ferrand, a pioneering landscape architect whose passion for gardens is fixed after a European tour. Her "good family" includes her aunt, writer Edith Wharton. NAL, June.

McLain's followup to the bestseller and book club hit The Paris Wife centers on Beryl Markham, noted aviator, adventurer, and memoirist (West with the Night) in colonial Kenya. And yes, she was also known for her love affair with Denys Finch Hatton (among others). Ballantine, August.

Turn-of-the-century Puerto Rico is the setting for this new novel about Afro-Cuban midwife Ana Belén Opaku and the male-centered society that women were forced to endure in this time and place. Booktrope, February.

It's not easy being the daughter of Catherine de Médicis, Queen of France. Perinot moves to a new publisher and to hardcover format with her second novel, a tale of Princess Margot, who's caught between family loyalty and a forbidden love at a time of religious turmoil. Thomas Dunne, December.

From the bestselling author of Wench comes a new novel, set in the post-Civil War era, about two women and one man who move to Chicago in search of new possibilities now that slavery has been abolished. Amistad, May.

Eliza Redgold (pseudonym of writer and academic Dr. Elizabeth Reid Boyd) takes us back to 11th-century Coventry, England, when Lady Godiva takes a drastic step to protest unfair taxation against Mercia's people. St. Martin's Griffin, July.

Robuck's latest literary-focused novel examines the marriage of artist Sophia Peabody and writer Nathaniel Hawthorne, and the many challenges they faced before and after their enduring marriage. NAL, May.

I loved Thornton's previous novel The Tiger Queens so am eagerly anticipating her end-of-year release, which looks at the women surrounding Alexander the Great. NAL, December.

When I read and reviews Williams' The Secret Life of Violet Grant (which was a lot of fun), I hadn't realized it was first in what will be a trilogy about the Schuyler sisters. The heroine of this one is Christina "Tiny" Hardcastle, Vivian's sister, whose picture-perfect society life begins to unravel during the summer of 1966. Putnam, June.
Marci Jefferson's second novel (after Girl on the Golden Coin) is about Marie Mancini, one of the famous nieces of the ruthlessly powerful Cardinal Mazarin in the Sun King's court. Thomas Dunne, May.
Mackin's newest historical title will introduce readers to a little-known woman who deserves recognition: Beatrix Ferrand, a pioneering landscape architect whose passion for gardens is fixed after a European tour. Her "good family" includes her aunt, writer Edith Wharton. NAL, June.
McLain's followup to the bestseller and book club hit The Paris Wife centers on Beryl Markham, noted aviator, adventurer, and memoirist (West with the Night) in colonial Kenya. And yes, she was also known for her love affair with Denys Finch Hatton (among others). Ballantine, August.
Turn-of-the-century Puerto Rico is the setting for this new novel about Afro-Cuban midwife Ana Belén Opaku and the male-centered society that women were forced to endure in this time and place. Booktrope, February.
It's not easy being the daughter of Catherine de Médicis, Queen of France. Perinot moves to a new publisher and to hardcover format with her second novel, a tale of Princess Margot, who's caught between family loyalty and a forbidden love at a time of religious turmoil. Thomas Dunne, December.
From the bestselling author of Wench comes a new novel, set in the post-Civil War era, about two women and one man who move to Chicago in search of new possibilities now that slavery has been abolished. Amistad, May.
Eliza Redgold (pseudonym of writer and academic Dr. Elizabeth Reid Boyd) takes us back to 11th-century Coventry, England, when Lady Godiva takes a drastic step to protest unfair taxation against Mercia's people. St. Martin's Griffin, July.
Robuck's latest literary-focused novel examines the marriage of artist Sophia Peabody and writer Nathaniel Hawthorne, and the many challenges they faced before and after their enduring marriage. NAL, May.
I loved Thornton's previous novel The Tiger Queens so am eagerly anticipating her end-of-year release, which looks at the women surrounding Alexander the Great. NAL, December.
When I read and reviews Williams' The Secret Life of Violet Grant (which was a lot of fun), I hadn't realized it was first in what will be a trilogy about the Schuyler sisters. The heroine of this one is Christina "Tiny" Hardcastle, Vivian's sister, whose picture-perfect society life begins to unravel during the summer of 1966. Putnam, June.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Maureen Gibbon's Paris Red: a bold, observant novel of Manet's most famous model
Victorine Louise Meurent, the young woman who posed for Édouard Manet’s innovative, scandalous painting Olympia, among others, is placed at the center of Gibbon’s observant work.
In 1862, after an unnamed stranger enters the lives of Victorine and her close friend, Denise, and begins a teasing, charged relationship with them both, she takes a courageous step, leaving behind her impoverished existence as a silver burnisher to pursue him solo.
It becomes clear that she’s his match in sensuality—which surprises and pleases him—and her boldness serves them both well in her role as his model. Their affair is undeniably erotic, yet one of Paris Red ’s strengths lies in its unexpected status as a tale of artistic rather than sexual awakening.
Although only 17 to his thirtysomething, Victorine is no naive ingenue, and her involvement with Manet and his world serves as her entrée into a new way of envisioning and experiencing life. Full of animated scenes of working-class Paris in the 1860s, Gibbon’s color-rich prose moves with the deliberate urgency of brushstrokes on canvas.
Maureen Gibbon's Paris Red will be published on April 20th by W. W. Norton (hardcover, $24.95, 224pp). This review first appeared in March 15th's Booklist.
Victorine Meurent (1844-1927) posed for numerous works by Manet, including the famous Le Déjeuner Sur l’Herbe (1863). What isn't as well known is that she became a noted artist in her own right, exhibiting her work at Paris's Salon in 1876, although only one of her paintings has survived. Read more about her in Kathryn Hughes' 2013 article for the Telegraph, "Manet's Forgotten Muse," and in the Guardian, V. R. Main's "The Naked Truth."
For more on Paris Red, Stephanie Renee dos Santos has a new review and interview with Maureen Gibbon at her blog, Love of Art in Historical Fiction.
In 1862, after an unnamed stranger enters the lives of Victorine and her close friend, Denise, and begins a teasing, charged relationship with them both, she takes a courageous step, leaving behind her impoverished existence as a silver burnisher to pursue him solo.
It becomes clear that she’s his match in sensuality—which surprises and pleases him—and her boldness serves them both well in her role as his model. Their affair is undeniably erotic, yet one of Paris Red ’s strengths lies in its unexpected status as a tale of artistic rather than sexual awakening.
Although only 17 to his thirtysomething, Victorine is no naive ingenue, and her involvement with Manet and his world serves as her entrée into a new way of envisioning and experiencing life. Full of animated scenes of working-class Paris in the 1860s, Gibbon’s color-rich prose moves with the deliberate urgency of brushstrokes on canvas.
Maureen Gibbon's Paris Red will be published on April 20th by W. W. Norton (hardcover, $24.95, 224pp). This review first appeared in March 15th's Booklist.
Victorine Meurent (1844-1927) posed for numerous works by Manet, including the famous Le Déjeuner Sur l’Herbe (1863). What isn't as well known is that she became a noted artist in her own right, exhibiting her work at Paris's Salon in 1876, although only one of her paintings has survived. Read more about her in Kathryn Hughes' 2013 article for the Telegraph, "Manet's Forgotten Muse," and in the Guardian, V. R. Main's "The Naked Truth."
For more on Paris Red, Stephanie Renee dos Santos has a new review and interview with Maureen Gibbon at her blog, Love of Art in Historical Fiction.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Giveaway winners, blog feedback, and some links
Thanks to everyone who entered my 9th anniversary giveaway last week. It was great to see so many entries, and I loved reading your comments - it felt like it was my real birthday!
First, the giveaway winners:
Fiercombe Manor will be going to Martha E.
Girl on the Golden Coin will be going to Mary Jane H.
My Name is Resolute will be going to Maria G.
The Siege Winter will be going to Tiffany K. (update; original winner did not respond)
Emails have been sent to all the winners. Please respond within a week to claim your prize, and hope you'll enjoy your books.
As for what readers said they enjoyed most and would like to see more of, just to summarize briefly: there were a number of people who mentioned the reviews and posts of forthcoming books, which I'll plan on doing more of this year, in addition to some themed lists. If you have a request for a specific subject for a themed list, feel free to leave me a comment or send me an email, and see what I can do. I also think it's cool that some of you are using the preview posts to take to the library or place library hold requests. The feedback you've all provided has been very helpful for me in seeing what you're interested in. I appreciate every comment and will have to think of something special to do next year for the 10th.
More reviews will be posted soon, but in the meanwhile:
The Walter Scott Prize shortlist has been announced, with seven titles out of the original 15 longlisted titles remaining in contention. They are:
The Zone of Interest by Martin Amis
The Lie by Helen Dunmore
Viper Wine by Hermione Eyre
In the Wolf's Mouth by Adam Foulds
Arctic Summer by Damon Galgut
A God in Every Stone by Kamila Shamsie
The Ten Thousand Things by John Spurling
More from the BBC, and at the History Girls blog, Elizabeth Laird, a member of the judging panel, has concise overviews of all seven books. Also, Larry at the excellent blog Novel Historian has been providing critical reviews of some of the shortlisted and longlisted titles, as well as other works of historical fiction.
I've been slowly updating the HNS Forthcoming Books page for 2015, which now has info listed through next January - though it's especially incomplete for the later months. Also at the Historical Novel Society site, Fiona Sheppard maintains a similar list of children's and YA titles, and she's found details on new titles coming out over the next 12 months.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Book review, with historical notes: A Slant of Light, by Jeffrey Lent
A somber and breathtaking Hardyesque vision of a little-known American past, Lent’s newest epic unfolds with the assured timelessness of a classic. The setting is New York’s Finger Lakes region, a land of agrarian bounty where peculiar religious movements once took root.
Mystery surrounds the murders of Amos Wheeler and his lover, Bethany Hopeton, by her husband, Malcolm, after he returns from the Civil War. It’s not easy for anyone, Malcolm especially, to cope with his dreadful act.
Also affected are Harlan, the Hopetons’ hired boy, and August, a caring man who shelters Harlan and his sister. Several interlocking secrets (Why does Harlan remain loyal to Malcolm? What was Bethany’s true nature?) are skillfully untangled both by looking backward and moving ahead.
There’s an overabundance of detail on farming, but many sentences demand rereading for their sheer beauty, and each love story—some tragic, others newly born—has a poignant emotional charge. Lent offers eloquent insight into what makes his characters tick, yet enough unknowns remain to keep the novel unpredictable through the final pages.
Jeffrey Lent's A Slant of Light will be published in early April by Bloomsbury USA (hardcover, $27, 368pp). This review first appeared in Booklist's February 15th issue.
Some other notes:
More specifically, the novel takes place in Yates County, New York, in the 1860s. If Lent's characters were real, they could have known my ancestors, who settled in the region in the early 1800s and were still living there during the Civil War. I've visited in person, and it's beautiful country.
Many towns and villages of Yates County have colorful names with interesting histories, among them Milo, Jerusalem, Dundee, Penn Yan, and Italy, which sits across the county line from the town of Naples in Ontario County.
When you do genealogy research in an area, you get to know what records exist and where, the layout of the towns, people's traditional occupations, churches, and naming traditions... but you don't always absorb the cultural history in detail. In that sense, I'm grateful to Lent's novel for giving me further perspective on a truly fascinating slice of history and breathing life into it.
There are references throughout the novel to someone called the Public Friend, a religious figure whose beliefs still provide guidance on daily living, even decades after her death. The Kirkus reviewer called her "a female divine clearly modeled on the Shakers’ Mother Ann Lee." While it's true that her teachings were shaped by those of Ann Lee, she isn't fictional.
The Public Friend—who was also called the Universal Friend—is a historical figure who influenced religious thought in New England, Pennsylvania, and western New York in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. An evangelical preacher, her birth name was Jemima Wilkinson, although she didn't answer to that name after a near-fatal illness and her subsequent religious awakening. After some wanderings, in 1794 she and her followers settled in a hamlet she called "the new Jerusalem."
The Yates County Office of Public History has much more on her and the utopian community she founded. Upstate New York was the crucible for many early American reform movements, some better known than others, and it was a treat to see one of them depicted in a new work of fiction.
Mystery surrounds the murders of Amos Wheeler and his lover, Bethany Hopeton, by her husband, Malcolm, after he returns from the Civil War. It’s not easy for anyone, Malcolm especially, to cope with his dreadful act.
Also affected are Harlan, the Hopetons’ hired boy, and August, a caring man who shelters Harlan and his sister. Several interlocking secrets (Why does Harlan remain loyal to Malcolm? What was Bethany’s true nature?) are skillfully untangled both by looking backward and moving ahead.
There’s an overabundance of detail on farming, but many sentences demand rereading for their sheer beauty, and each love story—some tragic, others newly born—has a poignant emotional charge. Lent offers eloquent insight into what makes his characters tick, yet enough unknowns remain to keep the novel unpredictable through the final pages.
Jeffrey Lent's A Slant of Light will be published in early April by Bloomsbury USA (hardcover, $27, 368pp). This review first appeared in Booklist's February 15th issue.
Some other notes:
More specifically, the novel takes place in Yates County, New York, in the 1860s. If Lent's characters were real, they could have known my ancestors, who settled in the region in the early 1800s and were still living there during the Civil War. I've visited in person, and it's beautiful country.
![]() |
| The hilly farmland of Italy, New York, on a hazy day in August 2001; photo by me |
Many towns and villages of Yates County have colorful names with interesting histories, among them Milo, Jerusalem, Dundee, Penn Yan, and Italy, which sits across the county line from the town of Naples in Ontario County.
When you do genealogy research in an area, you get to know what records exist and where, the layout of the towns, people's traditional occupations, churches, and naming traditions... but you don't always absorb the cultural history in detail. In that sense, I'm grateful to Lent's novel for giving me further perspective on a truly fascinating slice of history and breathing life into it.
There are references throughout the novel to someone called the Public Friend, a religious figure whose beliefs still provide guidance on daily living, even decades after her death. The Kirkus reviewer called her "a female divine clearly modeled on the Shakers’ Mother Ann Lee." While it's true that her teachings were shaped by those of Ann Lee, she isn't fictional.
The Public Friend—who was also called the Universal Friend—is a historical figure who influenced religious thought in New England, Pennsylvania, and western New York in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. An evangelical preacher, her birth name was Jemima Wilkinson, although she didn't answer to that name after a near-fatal illness and her subsequent religious awakening. After some wanderings, in 1794 she and her followers settled in a hamlet she called "the new Jerusalem."
The Yates County Office of Public History has much more on her and the utopian community she founded. Upstate New York was the crucible for many early American reform movements, some better known than others, and it was a treat to see one of them depicted in a new work of fiction.
Friday, March 20, 2015
A gallery of new and recent historical novels by Australasian women writers
Now that I have a new sun porch, and thus more room for bookcases in the house, I've set aside one shelf for historical novels from Australasian authors and publishers. Just because most are hard to find in this corner of the world – I don't let 10,000 miles stand between me and a book I want to read.
The margins on this blog are pretty narrow, so I also have a larger image of the shelf linked up.
Because they can be expensive to obtain in print, I get a fair number of these titles on Kindle, also. I'm always interested in discovering new historical fiction writers and being transported via fiction to new locales. I've also been following along with the Australian Women Writers' Challenge in an attempt to keep up with what's coming out and may join the challenge myself next year.
Which brings me around to the topic of the Historical Novel Society's first Australasian conference, which kicked off yesterday in Sydney. This is a significant and very exciting undertaking, and I extend my congrats to the organizers for their hard work in pulling everything together. I wish I was there in person and hope all attendees are having a wonderful time.
Since I've been celebrating Women's History Month here at the blog, this seems like a good time to showcase historical novels by Australasian women authors. The books (15 in all) are set all over the place, and since there are a lot of them, I'm just giving brief notes on the settings of each. For those like me who don't live in the region, I recommend Fishpond.com for print editions (they offer free shipping worldwide) and also suggest checking your local Amazon to see if Kindle editions are for sale.
Also, since I don't have the opportunity to see these books in stores locally, there are going to be many titles I'm missing. Please feel free to recommend others in the comments so we can all add them to our TBRs.
The inner workings of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's White House, seen through the eyes of a teacher who gets a job with the First Lady. Hachette Australia, July 2014.
A female brewer strives to make a go of her profession in medieval England. Harlequin MIRA Australia, October 2014.
Third in Challinor's Convict Girls series, this is the story of three women determined to make new lives for themselves after being transported to Sydney Town in 1830. HarperCollins Australia, November 2014.
This Victorian-set novel focuses on the disintegrating marriage of Sir George Grey: explorer, governor of South Australia, and later governor of New Zealand. Random House New Zealand, forthcoming July 2015.
A dual-time saga set amidst the Australian goldfields in the 1860s and in the present, and featuring a young woman with paranormal abilities. Harlequin MIRA Australia, March 2014; ebook out this month (with this cover).
Set in early 19th-century Germany, the story of Dortchen Wild, who fell in love with Wilhelm Grimm, one of the famous scholars who collected old fairy tales -- and Dortchen's many contributions to the Grimm brothers' endeavor. Random House Australia, March 2013. A US edition of this book will be out in July, but here's the original Australian cover.
The latest entry in the mystery series involving Rowland Sinclair, artist and gentleman in pre-WWII Australia; secrets from his past may affect him personally. Pantera Press, 2014.
A time-slip novel set in the beautiful Scottish borders region, set now and in medieval times. It's also newly out from Atria in the US (this is the original cover). Simon & Schuster Australia, April 2015.
A love story between two unconventional people, set in Sydney during the Depression years. Macmillan Australia, May 2014.
This saga traces the journeys of four individuals who "confront the complexity of being Moriori, Maori, and Pakeha" (of European descent) in 1880s New Zealand and a century later. Vintage Books New Zealand, March 2014.
Martyn's home ground is medieval England, and her newest centers on two strong women from the Wars of the Roses: Elysabeth Woodville, the future wife of Edward IV, and his cousin Kate Neville. Harlequin MIRA Australia, August 2014.
An epic WWI-era saga involving three families living on the rural outskirts of Sydney. Thanks to Yvonne from A Darn Good Read for alerting me to this book. Harlequin MIRA Australia, March 2015.
Winner of the Australian/Vogel's Literary Award in 2014, this literary novel follows a Japanese doctor as he's interned as an enemy alien in WWII Australia. Allen & Unwin, April 2014.
Sawyer has written a number of well-received historical epics, but this is her first historical mystery, a police procedural set in the countryside of 18th-century France. I believe this is self-published via Amazon, February 2015.
An Irish-Australian family saga in which secrets dating from WWI reverberate into the present. Macmillan Australia, March 2015.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
From the archives: The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan, a saga of 20th-century India
With an assured voice and a deep understanding of her characters’ moral values, Viswanathan breathes life into the social changes that swept through early- to-mid-twentieth-century Tamil Nadu, India.
In 1896 10-year-old Sivakami becomes the child bride of a healer predicted to die young. Left a widow at 18, she dutifully obeys her Brahmin heritage’s millennia-old customs—strict rules dictating her appearance, food preparations, even whom she may speak with or touch.
Sivakami devotes her life to her family, but her decisions on daughter Thangam’s marriage and son Vairum’s secular education occasionally have heartbreaking results. Janaki, Sivakami’s similarly conservative granddaughter, later grows to adulthood in an India that comes to view Brahmins not as a proud, mutually supportive people but as racially pure bigots—an opinion her uncle Vairum shares.
Despite the saga’s length, there are no dull moments or extraneous scenes. Most impressively, Viswanathan immerses readers in the realities of the caste system from both sides; in telling a universal story of generational differences on a personal level, she makes a vanished world feel completely authentic. Superbly done.
Padma Viswanathan's The Toss of a Lemon was published in paperback by Mariner in 2009 (trade pb, 636pp). It's out of print in hard copy but readily available used, at PaperbackSwap, and through your local library. You can also buy it as an ebook now ($9.99 on Kindle). This review first appeared in Booklist in August 2008.
To mix things up while I put together another long gallery of titles, and figuring readers would be interested in hearing about excellent historical novels even if they aren't new releases, I decided I'd post from time to time about older titles that are worth seeking out. This one definitely is, and it's also a perfect choice for Women's History Month. The author, who is Canadian, based her saga on family stories told by her grandmother about her own grandmother's life.
In 1896 10-year-old Sivakami becomes the child bride of a healer predicted to die young. Left a widow at 18, she dutifully obeys her Brahmin heritage’s millennia-old customs—strict rules dictating her appearance, food preparations, even whom she may speak with or touch.
Sivakami devotes her life to her family, but her decisions on daughter Thangam’s marriage and son Vairum’s secular education occasionally have heartbreaking results. Janaki, Sivakami’s similarly conservative granddaughter, later grows to adulthood in an India that comes to view Brahmins not as a proud, mutually supportive people but as racially pure bigots—an opinion her uncle Vairum shares.
Despite the saga’s length, there are no dull moments or extraneous scenes. Most impressively, Viswanathan immerses readers in the realities of the caste system from both sides; in telling a universal story of generational differences on a personal level, she makes a vanished world feel completely authentic. Superbly done.
Padma Viswanathan's The Toss of a Lemon was published in paperback by Mariner in 2009 (trade pb, 636pp). It's out of print in hard copy but readily available used, at PaperbackSwap, and through your local library. You can also buy it as an ebook now ($9.99 on Kindle). This review first appeared in Booklist in August 2008.
To mix things up while I put together another long gallery of titles, and figuring readers would be interested in hearing about excellent historical novels even if they aren't new releases, I decided I'd post from time to time about older titles that are worth seeking out. This one definitely is, and it's also a perfect choice for Women's History Month. The author, who is Canadian, based her saga on family stories told by her grandmother about her own grandmother's life.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
Reading the Past's 9th anniversary celebration: reflections and giveaway
It's hard to believe that another blogiversary has come along. Reading the Past turns nine this month. I've thoroughly enjoyed chatting about historical fiction with everyone who visits this site. Thank you all for reading!
The past nine years have seen numerous changes in the book blogosphere. Many blogger friends have moved on to other interests, while new readers and bloggers have joined in. Reading challenges are still hanging in there but aren't as prevalent as they used to be. Comments are down overall, so I'm appreciative of readers who choose to comment, and I aim to respond to them all.
With regard to this blog specifically, I've implemented a few changes since the start of the year. For one, I decided to concentrate on content that I'd written myself, so you'll be seeing a higher percentage of new reviews and previews of forthcoming books. You may have noticed there have been fewer guest posts. I'm proud to have published the guest essays that I have and am grateful to all of the authors for their contributions. They have all offered a firsthand perspective on writing and researching historical fiction, and there have been some excellent pieces submitted.
However, with the number of requests I was receiving, the time involved in responding to emails, scheduling, and layout for the essays I accepted was more than I could handle. I'm still debating a policy on guest posts going forward and would welcome people's thoughts on this. With the wide range of historical novels available to readers, I prefer not to feature the same authors too frequently, so if I do decide to start accepting more guest posts, it'll be with this in mind. I do have a couple of previously arranged essays coming up in the next couple of months, from some terrific historical novelists, and I look forward to including their words here.
I plan to do the occasional giveaway as well, focusing on those books I've read myself and can personally recommend.
Which brings me to today's celebration. Over the past two months, I've received extra copies of the following four books, all previously reviewed here, so I thought I'd share the wealth.
(1) Fiercombe Manor, by Kate Riordan (new ARC)
(2) Girl on the Golden Coin, by Marci Jefferson (new in pb)
(3) My Name Is Resolute, by Nancy E. Turner (new in pb)
(4) The Siege Winter, by Ariana Franklin and Samantha Norman (new ARC)
The hyperlinked titles lead to my reviews. Please fill out the form below for a chance to win. Each book will have a different winner; one entry per person, please. International entrants are welcome. Deadline Sunday, March 22nd. Good luck!
Update: The giveaway has ended. Thanks to all who entered.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
New & upcoming historical novels in celebration of Women's History Month, part 1
March is widely known as Women's History Month. In acknowledgment and celebration of the lives and accomplishments of women throughout history, I'm putting together several guides to new and upcoming historical novels by and about women. To which one might respond: that's nice, but this blog already features women's stories a lot. Very true! However, because time doesn't permit me to read and review everything that catches my attention, I wanted to highlight a collection of titles that personally intrigued me.
Here are twelve initial selections, in order by author surname. At least one more post in this series will be going online this month. Please let me know of any other recommended titles in the comments.

A young woman's life enclosed in a small cell within a village church in 13th-century England proves to be surprisingly intense and dramatic. FSG, May.

She was fated to be known in myth and legend as Helen of Troy, but in this inspired retelling of her early life, Helen aims to flee her predestined life with the help of Theseus, the son of Poseidon. Lake Union, April.

The setting is 13th-century Bohemia, which is fabulous in itself, but also of interest is the storyline: a young woman, possibly with supernatural abilities, becomes the personal healer to King Ottakar while figuring out the mystery of her origins. Pegasus, November.

The Australian author's first mainstream historical novel depicts Napoleonic France from the viewpoint of an English baronet's daughter who becomes an unwitting spy. William Morrow, June 30.

The first novel in Courtney's Queens of the Conquest trilogy, which I've been highly anticipating, focuses on Edyth, the granddaughter of Lady Godiva, and her unexpected path to power during the last days of Saxon England. Macmillan UK, May.
Curry's debut novel traces the life of Sai Jinhua, a late 19th-century courtesan who left a controversial legacy due to her role in influencing China's relationship with the West. Dutton, September.

Dallas, a favorite chronicler of western fiction about strong women, sets her newest novel in a small Colorado mining town in 1880, when a trusted midwife must defend herself against a murder charge.
St. Martin's, September 30.

Sensuality, decadence, and self-discovery as a young Italian woman in 1913 Buenos Aires disguises herself as a man to pursue her dream of playing the violin in a troupe of tango musicians. Knopf, July.

A new novel from Sara Donati, who's been absent from the literary scene for a few years, is reason to celebrate in itself. Here she continues her family saga with two young women, both physicians in 1880s New York, who are forced to make tough life decisions. Berkley, September.

From the author of Queenmaker, Wisdom's Daughter, and Delilah, three compelling and historically authentic novels of biblical women, comes a re-interpretation of the ancient story of Vashti and Esther in the court of King Ahasuerus. St. Martin's, September.
Subtitled "a novel of love and rebellion," this is the love story of Katharina von Bora, a nun in 16th-century Germany who fled her cloistered life, and Martin Luther, leader in the Protestant Reformation. Hedlund is an acclaimed inspirational historical novelist. WaterBrook, October.

Hoffman's literary novel recounts the little-known story of impressionist painter Camille Pissarro's mother, Rachel, a Jew growing up on the isle of St. Thomas in the early 19th century. Simon & Schuster, August.
Here are twelve initial selections, in order by author surname. At least one more post in this series will be going online this month. Please let me know of any other recommended titles in the comments.
A young woman's life enclosed in a small cell within a village church in 13th-century England proves to be surprisingly intense and dramatic. FSG, May.
She was fated to be known in myth and legend as Helen of Troy, but in this inspired retelling of her early life, Helen aims to flee her predestined life with the help of Theseus, the son of Poseidon. Lake Union, April.
The setting is 13th-century Bohemia, which is fabulous in itself, but also of interest is the storyline: a young woman, possibly with supernatural abilities, becomes the personal healer to King Ottakar while figuring out the mystery of her origins. Pegasus, November.
The Australian author's first mainstream historical novel depicts Napoleonic France from the viewpoint of an English baronet's daughter who becomes an unwitting spy. William Morrow, June 30.
The first novel in Courtney's Queens of the Conquest trilogy, which I've been highly anticipating, focuses on Edyth, the granddaughter of Lady Godiva, and her unexpected path to power during the last days of Saxon England. Macmillan UK, May.
Curry's debut novel traces the life of Sai Jinhua, a late 19th-century courtesan who left a controversial legacy due to her role in influencing China's relationship with the West. Dutton, September.
Dallas, a favorite chronicler of western fiction about strong women, sets her newest novel in a small Colorado mining town in 1880, when a trusted midwife must defend herself against a murder charge.
St. Martin's, September 30.
Sensuality, decadence, and self-discovery as a young Italian woman in 1913 Buenos Aires disguises herself as a man to pursue her dream of playing the violin in a troupe of tango musicians. Knopf, July.
A new novel from Sara Donati, who's been absent from the literary scene for a few years, is reason to celebrate in itself. Here she continues her family saga with two young women, both physicians in 1880s New York, who are forced to make tough life decisions. Berkley, September.
From the author of Queenmaker, Wisdom's Daughter, and Delilah, three compelling and historically authentic novels of biblical women, comes a re-interpretation of the ancient story of Vashti and Esther in the court of King Ahasuerus. St. Martin's, September.
Subtitled "a novel of love and rebellion," this is the love story of Katharina von Bora, a nun in 16th-century Germany who fled her cloistered life, and Martin Luther, leader in the Protestant Reformation. Hedlund is an acclaimed inspirational historical novelist. WaterBrook, October.
Hoffman's literary novel recounts the little-known story of impressionist painter Camille Pissarro's mother, Rachel, a Jew growing up on the isle of St. Thomas in the early 19th century. Simon & Schuster, August.
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