What we can learn about historical fiction reading (and reviewing) from an AI chatbot

Over the past several weeks, I’ve been fascinated by ChatGPT, the artificial intelligence chatbot that responds to prompts in a conversational style which mimics human writing. Educators have raised concerns about students using it to plagiarize essays; technical writers (and others) are worried about an AI agent putting them out of work. The applications and ethical ramifications of this program are just beginning to be studied.

When it comes to requests for basic information on a topic, ChatGPT returns text that's logically organized, easily readable, and mostly accurate (it does make mistakes). It’s also scary fast. When I asked it to write a sonnet about historical fiction, the results were impressive but flawed. People on the Historical Novel Society’s Facebook group had an interesting mix of responses to it.

I wanted to explore the output created by ChatGPT so I could see its strengths and defects firsthand – and so I could better recognize AI-generated writing when I came across it in other circumstances. (There are new programs out there to detect whether content was written by a robot.) ChatGPT isn’t going away and will only improve over time, so it’s to our benefit to become familiar with its capabilities. So I prompted it with some requests to see what could be gleaned from the experience.

How good is ChatGPT at writing book reviews, I wondered. The system’s knowledge base ends with 2021, so this exercise won’t work for new releases, but I was curious what information it knew about older titles, and about historical fiction in general.

First, I asked it to write a sample book review for a novel about pilots during WWII (I didn’t specify a particular book). The result was:

Example 1:

Flyboys: A Novel of WWII by John Smith is a powerful and moving historical novel set during World War II. The story follows a group of young pilots as they train to become fighter pilots and then head off to fight in the Pacific Theater.

One of the strengths of this novel is the way it brings to life the personal stories of the pilots. Through their eyes, we see the horrors of war and the sacrifices they made for their country. Smith does an excellent job of capturing the camaraderie and sense of brotherhood that developed among the pilots, as well as the fear and uncertainty they faced on a daily basis.

The novel also explores the moral and ethical dilemmas that the pilots faced, including the question of whether or not to shoot down enemy pilots who have bailed out of their planes. The characters are well-developed and feel authentic to the time period. The main protagonist, a young pilot named Jack, is a relatable and sympathetic character who the reader can't help but root for.

The novel is also historically accurate and provides a great deal of information about the air battles that took place during World War II, which makes it a great novel for readers who are interested in the history of WWII and the role of pilots in the war.

The writing is engaging and evocative, and the pacing of the novel keeps the reader on the edge of their seat. The ending is bittersweet, but it leaves the reader with a sense of the human cost of war.

Overall, "Flyboys: A Novel of WWII" is a must-read for fans of historical fiction and World War II enthusiasts. It is well-written, well-researched, and filled with relatable characters and a compelling storyline that will keep readers engaged until the very end. It is a highly recommended novel for anyone interested in the history of WWII, the role of pilots, and the human cost of war.

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Does this sound like a novel you’d want to read? Or maybe you’ve already read something very close to it?

Since I gave it a generic request, it provided a generic review. Still, it picked up on a basic plotline for a book with this focus, reflected these common elements within the review (the fact that many are stories of camaraderie and coming-of-age journeys for their male protagonist), and provided commentary on positive qualities readers expect to find in historical fiction. That is: well-developed and authentic characters, historical accuracy, a moving and powerful storyline, and interesting background details.

Next – several days later – I asked ChatGPT for a review on a novel about a young woman growing up in medieval England. The result named a specific book, but the plotline doesn't fit that book, aside from getting the era right.

Example 2:

The Rose of York: Love and War is a captivating historical novel set in medieval England during the Wars of the Roses. The story follows the life of a young woman named Rose as she navigates the complexities of medieval society, from her childhood in a small village to her eventual rise as a powerful and influential woman.

One of the strengths of this novel is the way it brings to life the rich and complex world of medieval England. The author does an excellent job of capturing the political and social landscape of the time, from the power struggles between the different noble houses to the everyday lives of the common people. The novel also explores the role of women in medieval society and how Rose's determination and strength of character allows her to transcend the limitations placed on her as a woman.

The characters are well-developed and feel authentic to the time period. The main protagonist, Rose, is a strong and relatable character who the reader can't help but root for. The love story that develops throughout the novel is also engaging and adds an emotional depth to the story.

The writing is evocative, and the pacing of the novel keeps the reader engaged throughout. The ending is satisfying and leaves the reader with a sense of the human cost of war and the strength of the human spirit.

Overall, "The Rose of York: Love and War" is a must-read for fans of historical fiction. It is well-written, well-researched, and filled with richly drawn characters and a compelling storyline that will keep readers engaged until the very end. It is a highly recommended novel for anyone interested in the Middle Ages, the Wars of the Roses, and the role of women in history.

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This second review has elements worth noting. It draws on tropes for women’s fiction set in medieval times (the heroine’s personal growth journey, how she reacts to the restrictions placed on women in past eras, and the fact that there’s a love story – not mentioned at all in the sample review about WWII pilots). Taken together with the first review, we see how these AI-generated reviews are structured. The underlined sections show the text repeated in both reviews. It seems there’s an underlying template that ChatGPT is following, while filling in the blanks with material appropriate to the subject and era.

Thirdly, I requested a critical review of a WWII novel. (I initially asked for a snarky review, just for fun, but it tsked at me and told me it wouldn’t do that.)

Example 3:

The War Diaries: A Novel of WWII by John Doe is a historical novel set during the Second World War. The story follows a group of soldiers as they fight their way through Europe, and the struggles they face both on and off the battlefield.

One of the weaknesses of this novel is that it lacks historical accuracy. There are several inaccuracies in the descriptions of battles and settings, which undermines the credibility of the story. Additionally, the characters are not well-developed, and their actions and motivations are not always clear.

The author's writing style is also problematic. The dialogue is often clunky and unrealistic, and the author's attempts at humor fall flat. The pacing of the novel is also uneven, with long stretches of slow-moving action interspersed with brief bursts of action.

Overall, "The War Diaries: A Novel of WWII" falls short in providing a credible and engaging story. The lack of historical accuracy and the poor writing style make it hard for the reader to fully immerse in the story. It's not a bad book, but it's not a must-read for fans of historical fiction set during WWII, and readers might want to look for other options.

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Again, we can learn more about reader expectations from this review of a fictional novel. (ChatGPT made up the title and author.) It’s a coherently organized review that shows multiple reasons why a historical novel can fail to resonate with readers.

Lastly, I got out of generic mode and asked: Can you write a book review for All the Light We Cannot See? Surely it would do better with a highly acclaimed, bestselling historical novel.

Example 4:

"All The Light We Cannot See" is a historical fiction novel written by Anthony Doerr. The novel takes place in Europe during World War II and follows the parallel stories of two main characters: Marie-Laure, a blind French girl, and Werner, a German boy. The story is beautifully written, with a powerful and evocative prose that draws the reader into the characters' lives and experiences.

The novel is about the impact of war on the lives of ordinary people, and how it can change them. The author does an excellent job of capturing the fear, uncertainty, and hope that people felt during the war. Doerr's descriptions of the war-torn cities and the devastation caused by bombing are particularly powerful, and they help to convey the scale of the destruction and suffering caused by the war.

The author also explores themes of love, family, and sacrifice, with the characters learning to overcome their fears and biases. The relationship between Marie-Laure and Werner is particularly well-done, as the author explores the different paths their lives take, and how they are ultimately brought together.

The author's writing style is evocative, poetic and he is able to create a powerful atmosphere, it is a book that is not only informative but also emotionally engaging. The book is a beautifully written, thought-provoking novel that is sure to stay with the reader long after they have finished reading it.

Overall, "All the Light We Cannot See" is a must-read for fans of historical fiction, war literature, and for anyone who is interested in exploring the human experience during one of the most devastating conflicts in human history.

--

So what do you think?

On the plus side, it’s structured like a standard book review, and if you’ve read the novel (and I have), you’ll notice it gets some things right. It’s mostly grammatically correct, too.

But as a review of Doerr’s novel, which has been analyzed in detail in many corners of the web, it’s bland and superficial. Not only does it lack style and artistry – typical in AI-generated text – but there’s almost no information about the characters, plot, or setting. When I read reviews, I appreciate perceptive examples of what worked well, what didn’t, and why, preferably with originality of expression. This review reads like someone ran out of time and was phoning it in, or that they briefly glanced at the publisher’s blurb but didn’t actually read the book. Also, despite its emphasis on themes, it doesn’t really capture what All the Light We Cannot See is about.

I’ve repeated this same prompt multiple times, with only a slight variation in the AI responses.

In writing reviews, I know how tempting it can be to fall back on clichés and familiar phrases. Everyone uses them to some degree, and they can pass unnoticed if the reviewer points out specific examples and demonstrates original insight. The reviews written by the chatbot, especially in the fourth entry, focus on historical fiction tropes while omitting details on an author’s unique accomplishments. Would any of the AI-generated reviews convince you to read the book described (if it existed)?

In the end – and thanks for reading this lengthy post – we can learn numerous things from these AI-written reviews, but the takeaways have more to do with genre and reviewing conventions than the books themselves. I welcome additional thoughts, as well as details on your own explorations with this new tool.

Laurie Lico Albanese's Hester imagines an origin story for The Scarlet Letter's heroine

In 1829, seamstress Isobel Gamble, just nineteen, leaves Glasgow with her apothecary husband, Edward, planning to make a new start in America after coming close to ruin due to Edward’s opium addiction. Newly arrived at the harbor of Salem, Massachusetts, Isobel spies a tall man in a flowing black cloak who piques her interest with his proud bearing and air of mystery.

He is Nathaniel Hathorne, an up-and-coming writer seeking to escape his family’s past; his ancestor was John Hathorne, a judge at the notorious witchcraft trials who never repented of his role. (Nathaniel changed the spelling of his surname later.) Isobel herself has a scandalous ancestry. She descends from a 17th-century Scotswoman who confessed to witchcraft. Isobel also conceals her ability to perceive sounds and letters as colors, a phenomenon now called synesthesia.

When Edward leaves immediately on another sea voyage, Isobel must rely on her own enterprise in a town where the Scots, Irish, and Black people share the same low social rung. She and Nat form an easy friendship that develops into an intoxicating mutual enchantment.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1841,
portrait by  Charles Osgood (from the
Peabody Essex Museum)

The name “Hester” is mentioned only toward the end, but if you’re versed in early American literature, you’ll sense where the plot and this relationship will lead. For those who never read The Scarlet Letter in English class, no worries; while the novel imagines its inspiration, it works well independently.

Isobel narrates her tale, with periodic drop-in segments about her ancestor, Isobel Gowdie, and others accused of witchcraft. While they add historical context, their presence isn’t strictly necessary since the main plot has its own strong tension.

Calling a historical novel a “richly woven tapestry” has become a cliché, yet Hester fits this phrase much better than most. Its pages are awash with color, through the visual effects of Isobel’s synesthesia and in descriptions of her swift, careful embroidery – a beautiful skill that saves her life more than once. (As a former cross-stitcher, reading Hester left me wanting to pick up a needle, thread, and fabric again.)

Salem itself is a most intriguing place full of contrasts: cosmopolitan, multi-ethnic, Puritan-influenced, unwelcoming to outsiders, and with a shameful history that weighs on the descendants of  the accused and their accusers from 1692. Within the book, you’ll find the theme of women’s supportive networks, as well as the repercussions when they fail. Isobel’s closest neighbor is a free Black woman, the brusque Mercy, who also seems to be hiding something. This subplot grows more intense over the course of the book. Secrets may be a burden, but they’re also essential for survival in this provocative and haunting story.

Hester was published by St. Martin's Press in October 2022. I read it from Edelweiss; my library also has a copy in the Best Sellers collection.

This Other Eden by Paul Harding exposes the shameful history of Maine's Malaga Island

A superb achievement, Pulitzer Prize-winner Harding’s (Enon, 2013) third novel fictionalizes a shameful true episode from American history. In 1912, the mixed-race residents of Malaga Island off Maine’s coast, people living there for generations, were forcibly removed for reasons of “public health” and tourism development. The pseudoscience of eugenics lay behind the decision.

In Harding’s version, Esther Honey is the matriarch of a poor, close-knit family of African and Irish descent; other residents on Apple Island include the Lark family, the McDermott sisters, their Penobscot foster children, and eccentric carpenter Zachary Hand to God Proverbs.

When retired schoolteacher Matthew Diamond arrives to preach and educate the island’s young people, he recognizes his prejudice but finds several gifted pupils, including 15-year-old, light-skinned Ethan Honey, a talented artist. Events spiral downward when a committee from the Governor’s Council takes notice and comes to investigate. The injustice they impose feels infuriating.

Harding combines an engrossing plot with deft characterizations and alluring language deeply attuned to nature’s artistry. The biblical parallels, which naturally align with the characters’ circumstances, add depth and enhance the universality of the themes.

Readers must gingerly parse some winding, near-paragraph-long sentences, but this gorgeously limned portrait about family bonds, the loss of innocence, the insidious effects of racism, and the innate worthiness of individual lives will resonate long afterward.

This Other Eden was one of the best novels I read in 2022, and it will be published next week by W.W. Norton. I wrote this review for Booklist's December 1st issue.

For more background on Malaga Island along with photographs, please see the article The Shameful Story of Malaga Island by historian William David Barry, published in Down East magazine in November 1980.  Also, per Wikipedia:  "On April 7, 2010, Maine legislators finally issued an official statement of regret for the Malaga incident, but did so without notifying descendants and other stakeholders either before or after the fact. The 'public' apology didn't become known to the public until nearly four months later, when an article appeared in a monthly magazine, Down East, which also procured a statement of regret by Governor John Baldacci." 

Through a Darkening Glass by R. S. Maxwell, a gothic-tinged mystery set in 1940s Lancashire

In summer 1940, Ruth Gladstone, an English literature student at Girton College, Cambridge, evacuates with her grandmother to the Lancashire village of Martynsborough after an unexploded bomb lands on the campus. While staying with her great-aunt Vera, from whom her Gran (Edith) had been estranged for years, Ruth gets pressed into dreary administrative work and delves into a local ghost story – which she glimpses firsthand.

A young woman garbed in white has been seen lurking around the fields and lanes, calling to mind a tragedy from 30 years before, when a woman’s body was seen floating in a lime-kiln pond on the grounds of Wolstenholme Park, a crumbling old manor.

The story begins as everyone’s already on edge from potential German bombings and amps up the tension with a gothic subplot. Furthermore, Ruth’s seeking an exit strategy from an unwanted engagement to a soldier who writes her embarrassingly crude love letters from overseas, and she worries he’ll come home and expect an impromptu wedding. The stage is set for a tale where suspense and dread build from multiple directions.

What transpires, though, feels more atmospheric than spooky or horrifying; this ghost story is pretty low-key. There is some mystery about whether the white apparition is Elise, wife of Ruth’s coworker Malcolm, a Frenchwoman who became mute and dissociated from the world after a brain injury. From the villagers, depicted (with a few exceptions) as stereotypically insular, emerges the feeling that the evacuees in their midst have stirred up the wraith, but Ruth doesn’t buy that explanation.

On the hunt for a subject for her first novel, Ruth decides to research the history of the hauntings in Martynsborough, which goes over about as well as you’d think. With an occasionally brusque manner, Ruth sometimes feels closed-off and distant, although she does earn the reader's empathy. Her growing rapport with Malcolm makes for an awkward “forbidden romance” scenario, since his wife is very much alive, and it’s unclear how mentally present Elise is.

While all of the mystery threads (including the surprising reason behind Vera and Edith’s falling-out) are sufficient to hold interest, Through a Darkening Glass functions better as a portrait of country life during wartime, showing people’s day-to-day experiences and their adjustments to new circumstances as the war trundles on much longer than anyone expects or wants.

Through a Darkening Glass was published by Lake Union/Amazon Publishing in January 2023; I snagged it from NetGalley. It was also an Amazon First Reads pick last month.

All the historical novel titles you could ever need

Very recently, I've been noticing a trend in historical fiction titles. Have you seen this too?  One might say that they're... all over the place.

Unlike a previous trend we've seen (The X's Wife, The X's Daughter), you often can't tell from the titles what or who the books are going to be about.

Many titles seem symbolic of an overarching theme from the books. They provide a sense that the novels are going to be on the literary side, or that they have a purpose and meaning that go beyond entertainment.

My guess is that the historical novel above, Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See, was the book that started this all off.  It had a rare combination of literary and commercial success: it won the Pulitzer Prize and the Carnegie Medal and was a Goodreads Choice Award winner (2014). You don't see that a lot.

The cover art can help provide more context, as well as the likely subgenre.  And sometimes there's a noun or two in the title that's helpful for potential readers, too.

Are you getting an idea now about the number of these books out there?  Nearly all the books in this post have publication dates between 2021 and 2023.

These titles do create a sense of mystery about what's inside.  (And here we have one more "places" title, to join the first three at the top of this post.)

What do you think about this title trend?  Does it make you curious about the story?  The following two don't fit the exact pattern shown above, but they are close cousins.

And just to provide a bit more information about all these books, I'll list them all separately, below, along with the historical setting. The links go to Goodreads.

All the Pretty Places, Joy Callaway (Gilded Age New York)
All the Lost Places, Amanda Dykes (19th & 20th century Venice)
All the Broken Places, John Boyne (multi-period, present-day and WWII)

All Our Shimmering Skies, Trent Dalton (WWII Australia)

All the Children Are Home, Patry Francis (1950s-60s Massachusetts)

All the Lights Above Us, M. B. Henry (occupied France)
All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr (WWII France)

All That Is Hidden, Rhys Bowen and Clare Broyles (1907 NYC)

All the Blood We Share, Camilla Bruce (1870s Kansas)

All the Queen's Spies, Oliver Clements (Elizabethan England)
All the Ways We Said Goodbye, Beatriz Williams, Lauren Willig, Karen White (France, multi-period)

All We Left Behind, Danielle R. Graham (WWII Canada)
All the White Spaces, Ally Wilkes (post-WWI Antarctica)

All of You Every Single One, Beatrice Hitchman (20th-century Vienna)
All the Seas of the World, Guy Gavriel Kay (an alternate Renaissance era)
All the Quiet Places, Brian Thomas Isaac (1950s British Columbia)

All the Courage We Have Found, Carly Schabowski (1940s France)
All the Little Hopes, Leah Weiss (WWII North Carolina)

All the Flowers in Paris, Sarah Jio (WWII Paris)

Before All the World, Moriel Rothman-Zecher (1930s Philadelphia)

The World and All It Holds, Aleksandar Hemon (WWI Europe and beyond)

Set in Stone by Stela Brinzeanu, a novel of women's lives and the oppressive patriarchy of medieval Moldova

The publisher’s tagline for this debut novel caught my attention: “In medieval Moldova, two women from opposing backgrounds fall in love.” What a unique setting! The novel’s illustrated cover, with its folkloric elements, also drew me in. It suits the story well.

The timeframe is kept vague, and external political events don’t intrude at all. In her introduction, Stela Brinzeanu (a London-based writer who was born in Moldova) writes of being haunted by a troubling folktale she heard as a child and how she wanted to give a voice to silenced women. This tale does play a role in the novel, but it contains much more than a straightforward folktale retelling. No spoilers here, though.

The protagonists are Elina, a boyar’s (noble landowner) daughter, and Mira, a young peasant woman trained as a potter by her father. The pair have spotted each other at a distance at church occasionally, though their divergent social stations mean they live very different lives. Elina’s father, Boyar Constantin, hopes to change her legal status to that of a son so she can inherit his wealth and property; he also wants her to marry her unpleasant cousin. In exchange for securing her inheritance, the voivode (local warlord) wants Elina’s father to build him a church, but previous masons hired for the job said the land was cursed.

The young women first come face to face when Mira crafts a beautifully colorful jug and delivers it to Elina at her family manor. Their troubles begin shortly after that: Mira falls through the ice on her way home and is rescued by Rozalia, an old herbalist and healer who had been the maid of Elina’s late mother. Rozalia, who is feared as a witch (you can guess where this subplot is going), becomes a significant figure in both women’s lives. One overarching theme is the importance of looking past assumptions and stereotypes, not just about Rozalia but women in general, including Elina’s mother – who had her own secrets.

All is related through the author’s smooth, fast-paced style. For a novel about two women who fight so strenuously to be together, they fall in love instantly and have little on-the-page chemistry. Their individual struggles against patriarchal control feel much more visible and urgent. The trials Elina and Mira undergo are dark and brutal, providing a wide-ranging picture of how being born female at this place and time was no picnic. Strong points, though, for the author’s presentation of their culture, encompassing societal roles, healing practices, religion, food, and music and dance. The many Romanian terms usually make sense in context, plus there’s a glossary at the end. And Set in Stone does wrap up the story in a very satisfying way.

Set in Stone (a title which has several meanings) was published by Legend Press in August 2022; I read it from NetGalley.

Four excellent historical novels I read in 2022 but haven't reviewed here yet

Happy New Year to all this blog's readers!

For my first post of the year, I thought I'd go back through the titles I'd tracked through Goodreads that I'd greatly enjoyed, but which I haven't mentioned here before.  In all, I read 85 books in 2022 and reviewed 50 of them.  I don't end up reviewing everything because deadlines for other projects don't always allow me enough time to do so. Occasionally I give them a shout-out on my Instagram instead.  Plus, sometimes my brain needs a break and I want to read something just for myself.

Here are four works of historical fiction I did want to mention, though, and highly recommend. Plus at the end, I've listed two contemporary novels with historical elements and crossover appeal.

These first three novels I read in print, something I've been doing increasingly rarely.  Nearly everything I read now is via my iPad's Kindle app (something I never would've predicted a decade ago). These were personal purchases from Book Depository.

Elizabeth Chadwick's A Marriage of Lions focuses on Joanna de Munchensy of Swanscombe, a granddaughter of William Marshal. She is a woman of minor importance for 13th-century England until she becomes an unexpected heiress. She marries William de Valence, half-brother to Henry III, in a match that becomes a strong and loving partnership. The novel is set against the backdrop of civil war as nobleman Simon de Montfort leads a rebellion against the rule of King Henry (his brother-in-law).  A sweeping tale of loyalty (and the price it extracts), family, love, and politics that brings the little-known Joanna out of the shadows of history. If you've read Sharon Kay Penman's Falls the Shadow, about the same time period, this shows events from the opposite viewpoint.

The Bookseller of Inverness is a stand-alone historical thriller by S. G. MacLean, set in the Scottish city of Inverness in the aftermath of the Battle of Culloden, the final defeat of the Jacobite army. In 1752, six years later, bookseller Iain MacGillivray, who was wounded at Culloden, finds a murdered man in his shop, with indications that someone is settling old scores. Iain's sedate life suddenly gets much more complicated. A wide-ranging, atmospheric, and twisty conspiracy thriller with an excellent sense of place and time.

Caroline Scott is the author of one of my favorite WWI novels, The Photographer of the Lost (US title The Poppy Wife). While not mysteries by genre, her books have a compelling mystery at their core. The Visitors is her third novel, and while it doesn't quite measure up to her debut (due to uneven pacing in places), it's still very good. In 1923, Esme Nicholls, a housekeeper and war widow who desperately misses her late husband, Alec, experiences life-changing events during a summer in Cornwall, where she and her employer, Mrs. Pickering, are staying as guests of Mrs. Pickering's brother. Alec was also from Cornwall, and Esme hopes to learn more about his origins. When two visitors arrive at the house, the revelations they bring throw Esme's world into disarray. The story has a beautifully rendered postwar setting, and the descriptions of Cornwall's natural wonders are immersive. (If you think the heroine's name is familiar, by coincidence the main character of Pip Williams' The Dictionary of Lost Words is Esme Nicoll, quite similar.)

This fourth book I read from a library copy via Libby. I don't read much historical fiction set during my lifetime, but after reading about Jessica Anya Blau's Mary Jane, about a 14-year-old's wild summer babysitting for the young daughter of an eccentric family (and their rock star houseguests) in 1975 Baltimore, I decided to give it a go. This fast-paced coming-of-age novel is full of sharp visuals and sounds, like zippy tunes emanating from a record player and everyone dancing along to their own beat. Great fun, and a nostalgic trip back in time.

And two other novels I'd recommend, both contemporary novels with historical elements:  Liz Michalski's Darling Girl is a dark spin on the Peter Pan story focusing on Wendy Darling's fictional granddaughter; and in Lauren Belfer's Ashton Hall, an American woman and her son reconstruct the life story of a mysterious Elizabethan-era woman during their stay at an old manor house outside Cambridge, England.  I reviewed both of these for Booklist.

Thanks so much for reading my posts.  I hope 2023 will be good to you and bring you lots of wonderful reads!

How Come We Can’t Get Away From Anne Boleyn? A guest post by Jeri Westerson

Today I'd like to welcome Jeri Westerson back to the blog.  I've greatly enjoyed her Crispin Guest medieval mysteries (and had posted an interview with her at the conclusion of the series last year).  The first volume of her brand new King's Fool Mystery series, Courting Dragons, set in the popular Tudor era at the court of Henry VIII, debuts on January 3rd.  She details the background to her new series below.

~

How Come We Can’t Get Away From Anne Boleyn?

by Jeri Westerson

I think whenever anyone hears the name “Tudor” we think of three things: Elizabeth I, Henry VIII, and Anne Boleyn.

Anne, Anne, Anne. Why is she so important to the story of Henry VIII (who had four more wives after her)? And why is she important to my newly released novel Courting Dragons: A King’s Fool Mystery?

Let’s back up a bit to Prince Arthur Tudor. He was the elder brother to Henry VIII, slated to be King Arthur. Way back in 1497 he was betrothed—by proxy—to one Catherine of Aragon of Spain. The reason it was by proxy was because he and his betrothed were too young, but a treaty between England and Spain was desired by monarchs of both countries and so the kids were connected early on. They even had a wedding by proxy because they didn’t meet until October of 1501 when it was deemed they were finally old enough to get married in the flesh.

The deed was done and not long thereafter, Arthur fell ill. In fact, he died short of his sixteenth birthday.

Now enter the young Henry. Suddenly, he’s heir to the throne. And elder King Henry didn’t want all that dowry money to go back to Spain so he insisted on young Henry marrying his sister-in-law. But when Henry turned 14 he said no!



In 1509 at the ripe old age of eighteen, Henry succeeded to the throne of England. And he looked at his accounting books and decided that thousands of pounds worth of dowry was probably a good thing to have when starting a reign, not to mention keeping the Spanish treaties intact. But this was his brother’s widow. Didn’t he need papal dispensation to marry her? It’s just a little bit incesty. But the pope said no problem. You only need a dispensation if the marriage was consummated, and Catherine swore devoutly that it was not. She and Arthur were 15 years old and married for twenty weeks but didn’t consummate their legal marriage. Well...

“There is no more lovely, friendly and charming a relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.”
–Martin Luther, 1569

Henry and Catherine were happy in the beginning. It turned sour some twenty years later. She gave birth to a stillborn girl, then she gave birth to a boy, Henry, but he died after seven weeks. Then she gave birth to the Princess Mary (who was to become Queen Mary I, otherwise known as “Bloody Mary”). During this time, Henry was catting around with all sorts of women. But he was also a devout* Catholic (*can you really be devout when you’re constantly breaking one of the Ten Commandments?) So much so that in 1521 he wrote his “Defense of the Seven Sacraments” a direct argument against the protestant reforms of Martin Luther. Pope Leo X named Henry “Defender of the Faith” for that bestseller.

But by 1525, Henry was getting impatient for a legitimate male heir and certain courtiers were beginning to whisper in his ear—courtiers like Cardinal Wolsey and his secretary the commoner Thomas Cromwell. Leviticus 20:21 says that “if a man shall take his brother’s wife it is an unclean thing: they shall be childless.” Though Henry was far from childless, he preferred to interpret the text to mean “sonless” (though he had several illegitimate sons too). On this basis, Wolsey sought an annulment. The pope said nope.



Henry was getting all excited that this would work, that he could divorce his wife and marry—wait for it—Anne Boleyn, with whom he had been carrying on a chaste affair after having a not-so-chaste affair with Anne’s sister Mary (talk about incesty) who gave birth to yet another dead child, but possibly another not dead child that Henry would never acknowledge. He got pretty pissed off with Wolsey, trumped up some charges, had him arrested, even though Wolsey—as a bribe—handed over his just-finished manor house estate (that became Hampton Court) and was ready to put him on trial when he had the decency to die before that. Now Cromwell moved up and still had the king’s ear.

“The less prudent the prince the more his deeds oppress.” –Proverbs 28:16

Will Somers, close-up detail

Cromwell’s plan was to reform the Church, and since the pope wasn’t cooperating with Henry’s need for this divorce, why not break away from the Church of old and reform it into the Church of England? And who but the monarch—anointed by God—was fit to rule that? Henry then gave himself a divorce (with the new Archbishop Thomas Cranmer’s support), declared his daughter a bastard, and first secretly married Anne Boleyn then publicly married her (obviously pregnant by then), who, after all that, didn’t give him the son he wanted, but another princess, Elizabeth.

Henry’s taking over the province of the Church in England meant that he could get rid of all those corrupted and wealthy monasteries where all that expensive land was just sitting there when instead it could be sold and the revenue could fill his coffers. And so that’s what he did. Cromwell was in charge of collecting officers with the cover story that they were inspecting the monasteries to root out corruption…but while they were there, they took an inventory of all the goods, too. Ya know, just to keep an inventory.

So why is it that Anne’s story endures over the other five wives?

Anne’s end is tragic. True, she was quite the coquette as an up-and-comer in court. She was affianced at least twice, carried on with a married man, but was still chaste for the marriage bed, or so it was said. But by 1536, with only three years of marriage to her, Henry wanted out of the marriage that wasn’t giving him sons, and so Thomas Cromwell, Wolsey’s old assistant, devised her downfall, not giving her merely ONE paramour, but several, including her brother, just to add that last nail to the coffin. And this is what makes her endure. It was very clear to the people of the time—despite the fact that she usurped a very well-liked queen—that she was not guilty. Lancelot de Carles, French poet, wrote in 1536, “No one to look at her would have thought her guilty” as she “protested she had never misconducted herself towards the King.” “The queen exhibited such constancy, patience, and faith towards God that all the spectators, even her enemies, and those persons who previously had rejoiced at her misfortunes…testified and proclaimed her innocence and chastity.”

Wrongly accused, wrongly executed, Anne lives on as the ultimate sacrifice to Henry’s frenzied need for a male heir.

And, of course, she gave birth to England’s greatest monarch, Elizabeth I.

Posthumous portrait of Henry VIII with Queen Mary,
with Will Somers and dog in center

And that’s how Anne Boleyn becomes a part of my story, the background of Will Somers’s story, jester to King Henry, and investigating some pesky murders.

~

Jeri Westerson is the author of the new King’s Fool Mysteries with the reluctant sleuth Will Somers, Henry VIII’s real court jester, solving mysteries and murder at the Tudor court. She is also the author of the upcoming Sherlockian series An Irregular Detective Mystery, the multi-award-nominated Crispin Guest Medieval Noir series, paranormal books, including a gaslamp-steampunk fantasy the Enchanter Chronicles Trilogy, standalone historicals, and an LGBTQ rom/com mystery series. See it all at JeriWesterson.com.

Review of Mimi Matthews' A Holiday by Gaslight, a historically rich Victorian romance

When the high temperature is -5º F and there’s a winter storm raging outside, the only thing to do is hunker down indoors and be glad your house hasn’t lost power. It helps if you have a Kindle loaded up with ebooks. So yesterday I decided to get in the holiday spirit by reading a novella by Mimi Matthews that I’d purchased last year.

A Holiday by Gaslight is a lovely and gently heartwarming story set in Victorian London and at a Christmas house party in remote Derbyshire.

It’s November 1861, and after two months of courtship, Miss Sophia “Sophie” Appersett decides she and Edward Sharpe don’t suit. She asks him to meet her in Hyde Park, where she breaks things off, with mutual agreement. Sophie is a baronet’s daughter who needs to marry into money. A draper's son who made his fortune in manufacturing, Ned is eminently eligible at 31 – darkly handsome, unmarried, and successful – but he has no idea how to court someone of Sophie’s class. He relies on the Gentleman’s Book of Etiquette to guide him, and it gives him bad advice. To Sophie, he appears silent and disinterested; in reality, he admires her greatly but doesn’t show it. The problem is they don’t know each other at all and have only had superficial conversations.

Within a few days, Sophie – a young woman of integrity and thoughtfulness – feels regretful and makes a surprise appearance at Ned’s offices with a proposition: that they be honest with one another, and that he visit the family home in Derbyshire at Christmas as planned to see if they can make it work. Ned also learns more about her family finances: Sophie has no dowry because her father, Sir William, spent all of it installing gaslight on his estate.

The holiday preparations at Appersett House are delightful: heading into the woods to gather greenery, decorating the house with ribbons and tinsel from the attic, finding and bringing in the Yule log. As Ned and Sophie’s relationship thaws and blossoms, the interactions among the family and guests add color and dashes of the unexpected. Sophie’s immature younger sister, Emily, flirts with Ned’s business partner; one guest talks incessantly about Prince Albert and his sad recent demise.  Ned’s mother does little but express disapproval of everything, but we don’t know if it’s her nature or something more.

I especially enjoy romances with a historical backdrop that’s more than window-dressing, and this story delivers. Appersett House has a vast library, and Sophie and Ned acknowledge how their personal reading influenced their views. Sophie ponders whether Mr. Darwin’s theories can apply to societal and technological progress, while Ned realizes how the etiquette book led him astray. The gaslight at Appersett House lends the atmosphere a soft romantic glow, but – as the author illustrates – it comes at a high monetary and emotional cost to the family.

Above all, A Holiday by Gaslight is a love story, and the protagonists’ happy ending feels authentic and well-earned.

My best wishes to all of this blog’s readers for the holiday season!

Amanda Dykes' All the Lost Places tells a haunting, multi-period story of discovery in historical Venice

Plan for sufficient time if you decide to pick up Amanda Dykes’ All the Lost Places, because the novel deserves it. A deeply immersive read set in Venice during two periods few authors have visited via fiction – 1807 and nearly a century later – the story is told through language rich in description and metaphor as it explores the journeys of two young men seeking answers to mysteries – and discovering meaning, love, and hope in the process.

In 1904 San Francisco, Daniel Goodman, having served time in jail, makes restitution to the parties he stole from during his years of thievery. Unable to face his mother, who he feels he has irreparably shamed, Daniel still suffers the aftereffects of an injury. He has lost his ability to visualize images in his mind and draw from memory, although he’s still able to create art.

To help his mother out financially, he takes an unexpected job offer: to travel to his mother’s home city of Venice, locate artifacts, sketch images of local sights, and procure and translate books for the library of a proposed “Venice of America” cultural center. One of the books on his list is a title Daniel has owned from childhood: The Book of Waters, an unfinished fairy tale. It’s a rare volume, and Daniel wonders if any other editions will tell the rest of the story. When he reaches Venice, he meets a curious bookseller named Vittoria who shows him the city and helps with his search.

author Amanda Dykes

As Daniel proceeds with his translation of The Book of Waters, that book’s story unfolds. In 1807, the former Republic of Venice is under French control following conflict with Napoleonic France and Austria, and the abdication of the last Doge. A small baby found floating alone in a basket – much like Moses – within a gondola is rescued and then raised, in shared fashion, by five individuals from different walks of life. A note with the child says his name is Sebastien, and he is given the last name of Trovato,“found.” Sebastien grows up surrounded by his foster parents’ professions – glassmaking, printing, lace-making, gardening, piloting a gondola – and is greatly loved yet always wonders about his true identity.

The majesty and history of the islands and waterways of Venice permeate the novel’s pages as it explores both protagonists’ quests for belonging.

And always, in the distance or all around him, the city rose from the sea in a hundred and more fragmented pieces, cobbled together with bridges and boats.
I am like you, Venice seemed to say. A patchwork life, whole and yet broken.

The novel’s pacing is unhurried, proceeding much like a gondola as it wends its way through Venice’s storied canals and lagoons. Amanda Dykes is an expert at shaping words into moods, and her writing expresses the oft-cited theme of chiaroscuro – the interplay of light and shadow, both in art and in life. While some of the symbolism will have additional meaning for Christian readers, All the Lost Places doesn’t require a religious background to be appreciated as a haunting and emotionally fulfilling read.

All the Lost Places is published by Bethany House this month; I reviewed it from a NetGalley copy for the author's blog tour.

PURCHASE LINKS:

AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | BOOK DEPOSITORY | BOOKSHOP | GOODREADS

The Circus Train explores a young woman's coming of age in a 1930s traveling circus and during WWII

One expects circus-themed novels to be escapist entertainment filled with interesting characters. Parikh’s debut, a Canadian bestseller, satisfies on that score, and it also thoughtfully explores two young people’s connection and quests for belonging.

In the 1930s, Lena Papadopoulos, whose overprotective father Theo is a brilliant illusionist, spends her childhood traveling across Europe with the World of Wonders. But as a polio survivor using a wheelchair, Lena doesn’t fit in, and her self-esteem suffers.

At nine, she rescues an older Jewish boy, Alexandre, who becomes Theo’s apprentice. Alexandre and Lena become close friends, but secrets reside within both their families. As Europe grows darker, terrible circumstances force them apart and leave Lena to forge her path alone.

The circus train is the novel’s backdrop, not the starring attraction, and much about its operation goes unexplained; at times, the story feels light on descriptive details. Incorporating research into medical treatments for polio and the Theresienstadt camp’s role in Nazi propaganda, Parikh creates storytelling magic in her absorbing tale of a young woman discovering her own capabilities.

This novel is also recommended for YAs: Teens who enjoy coming-of-age journeys will be drawn to Lena’s story and the intriguing traveling-circus setting. 

Amita Parikh's The Circus Train was published by Putnam in the US this past week, and I'd written this review for Booklist's November 2022 issue.  In Canada, the novel was published by HarperCollins back in March. It's being promoted as "Water for Elephants meets The Night Circus." It was also a #1 LibraryReads pick.

I'd be interested in hearing thoughts from other historical fiction readers on this book. Re: my comments that it was light on descriptions, I also found this to be true when it came to WWII and the Holocaust; in particular, the horrors of Theresienstadt are left underexplored. The story works well as a coming-of-age story, but historical fiction readers may yearn for more details and depth.

'Tis the season for compilations of the year's best historical fiction

Many conversations I've had in the last week have begun with "Can you believe it's December already?" I haven't read as many books as I'd planned to in 2022, and all of the end-of-year compilations of the best historical fiction aren't helping to keep my TBR to a manageable size.  (Realistically, that battle was lost long ago...)

Here are the lists and sites I've found so far.

For the New York Times, Alida Becker, who reviews the genre regularly, includes ten favorites which she calls "sturdy time machines" with enduring appeal. Three are from Nobel laureates, and Suzette Mayr's The Sleeping Car Porter, the recent Scotiabank Giller Prize winner, is also on the list.  I'm a NYT subscriber and created the link as a gift article, so you should be able to read it without hitting a paywall.  See also Becker's latest roundup of historical fiction, from Dec. 2.

NPR's annual Books We Love feature (formerly called Book Concierge) presents a visual array of 35 books in their Historical Fiction category, each of which links to a short review.  You can also read their historical fiction selections as a list. What I like about NPR is how they proudly include entries from a variety of subgenres and age categories: literary fiction, thrillers, romance, dark fantasy, young adult historicals, and more. Historical graphic novels are in the mix as well (this isn't a subgenre, but a format). The settings and eras are notably diverse.

The CBC has a piece on "24 Canadian books to get the historical fiction fan." I especially enjoy seeing lists from outside the US since they introduce me to titles I haven't come across before. Many were published only in Canada. There are some favorites of mine from 2022 here also, including Eva Stachniak's The School of Mirrors and Natalie Jenner's Bloomsbury Girls.  Settings, overall, range from South Asia and Rome in ancient times to Canada in the '70s and '80s.

The Goodreads Choice Awards for 2022 are now in their last day of voting for the final round (by the time you see this, voting may have ended).  There are two novels set in the mid-1990s on the list of finalists, and while they wouldn't fit as historical fiction in my view, different platforms have different definitions for the genre.

Writing for The Times (London), critics Antonia Senior and Nick Rennison offer 14 best historical fiction books for 2022. You can read a limited number of articles per month with a free account, if you don't subscribe, and I recommend getting one, if only so you can read their ongoing reviews and roundups!  Novels mentioned here which appear in other such lists include Robert Harris's Act of Oblivion (17th c England and America), Emma Donoghue's Haven (monks on a remote Irish island, 7th century), and Anthony Marra's Mercury Pictures Presents (1940s Hollywood).

Cosmopolitan's 17 best historical fiction books of 2022 is predominantly female-focused, with the latest novels by Isabel Allende, Chanel Cleeton, and Heather Webb, among others, but also includes Marra's novel, above, as well as Hernan Diaz's Trust, which was high on my 2022 list as well.

You'll also find many historical novels on the Guardian's list of best fiction for 2022, though they aren't separated out by category as in the other lists above.

I'll update this post if I spot any more favorites lists from 2022, and please let me know about others in the comments.

In Jane Smiley's A Dangerous Business, two enterprising women unravel crimes in Gold Rush-era California

In Smiley’s short but impactful latest, two sex workers get caught up in a crime-novel scenario, one calling to mind the Edgar Allan Poe stories they devour, and decide to solve the murders before they become victims themselves.

In 1852, the small town of Monterey, California, bubbles with prosperity and secrets. New arrivals pour in, seeking fortunes or a new start; people depart just as frequently.

Eliza Ripple, a young widow from Kalamazoo who doesn’t miss her abusive husband one whit, has settled in at her job at Mrs. Parks’s brothel. She makes a good living, and the proprietress looks out for her health and safety. Then the first girl disappears, prompting Mrs. Parks to hire a bouncer, Carlos, a kind Mexican immigrant.

The community, which relies on informal (vigilante) justice since they don’t have constables, decides the missing-person crime isn’t worth the bother. Other disappearances follow, bodies are found, and Eliza and her best friend, Jean—a fellow prostitute working at an establishment serving other women—grow concerned. How would Poe’s hero Dupin (or DuPANN, as Eliza calls him) handle this?

Rich in wit and human observation, Smiley’s telling is as matter-of-fact as Eliza’s approach to her profession. While Eliza is skilled, her encounters aren’t erotic and illustrate much about all the characters. Among her clients are farmers, a shy teenager, many sailors, and older men, all with their own preferences. With a killer still at large, Eliza analyzes each man carefully, wondering if he’s guilty.

“Being a woman is a dangerous business,” Mrs. Parks tells her, accurately, and Eliza grows annoyed at having to uncover the truth because nobody else cares. As heroic, self-reliant young women who accomplish what needs doing, she and Jean make great partners in a town where a supportive female network is the key to success and survival.

Jane Smiley's A Dangerous Business is published on December 6th by Knopf.  In the UK, it will be published by Abacus in January 2023. I'd reviewed it initially for the Historical Novels Review. I believe this is my first time reading one of the author's novels since The Greenlanders, a literary epic set in the 14th century (fascinating and grim, as I recall).

The Godmother's Secret by Elizabeth St.John presents a new angle to the Princes in the Tower story

The Wars of the Roses between the Lancaster and York dynasties, and the fate of the Princes in the Tower, have been the subject of numerous historical novels. Each posits its own solution to this real-life mystery from 15th-century England, but the larger story has become well-known to readers of the genre. With her latest novel inspired by women from her family tree, Elizabeth St.John manages to shine an entirely new light on familiar happenings.

The author’s heroine – Lady Elysabeth (St.John) Scrope, who narrates – is someone who would have had a front-row seat to key events and was linked by blood, marriage, or promise to nearly all the major players. Yet I hadn’t heard of her. It feels like her story has been hiding in plain sight all these years, just waiting for someone to discover it. The Godmother’s Secret is a wonderful novel: well-paced, richly characterized, and infused with the author’s theme of how loyalties can influence choices and divide families.

The wife of Yorkist baron John “Jack” Scrope of Bolton Castle, Elysabeth is also the older half-sister of Lancastrian heiress Margaret Beaufort. In the year 1470, Henry VI, last king of the Lancastrian branch of the Plantagenets, asks Elysabeth to witness the birth of, and stand as godmother to, the newborn York heir, thus “placing a cuckoo in the York nest,” as Margaret puts it. Though wary of this undesired responsibility, Elysabeth takes her holy oath to safeguard young Ned's welfare very seriously, even as it sets her against family members and even her husband. Her narrative charts the complex, dangerous path that follows the rise and fall of Fortune’s wheel, as various individuals from the York and Lancaster contingents challenge one another, often with subterfuge, and seek ascendancy.

Besides Elysabeth herself, one of the few who holds the York princes’ welfare close to her heart, there are many other finely delineated characters. The incessant scheming of Margaret Beaufort, with her unique blend of piety and maternal ambition, proves incredibly vexing for her older sister. That said, Elysabeth feels protective towards Margaret, who was forced to marry too young and remains devoted to her only son, Henry Tudor. The love story between Elysabeth and husband Jack unfolds in a moving way, even as she weighs whether to assert her will and flout his wishes. This is also the rare story that fleshes out the personalities of the young princes, Ned and Dickon. The era was an uneasy time for royal children.

This epic novel moves quickly, though it’s worth slowing down to savor the language (“men may fight across hill and dale, but the women draw their own York and Lancaster battle lines across planked and herb-strewn chamber floors”). Elysabeth has multiple secrets to keep, including the Princes’ fate, but another is the existence of her own sovereynté – the agency to decide things for herself. Her determination to chart her own path underlies her actions in this well-researched and engrossing book.

The Godmother's Secret was published in October; thanks to the author for sending me a Kindle copy.  See also my earlier reviews of the author's Lydiard Chronicles: The Lady in the Tower, By Love Divided, and Written in Their Stars.

Mademoiselle Revolution by Zoe Sivak presents the Haitian and French Revolutions from a new viewpoint

Sivak’s bold debut is an original take on the Haitian and French Revolutions, seen from the viewpoint of a biracial woman awakening to her privilege and learning how to wield it in liberty’s name.

In 1791, Sylvie de Rosiers, eighteen and beautiful, is the cosseted only daughter of a coffee planter in Saint-Domingue, a French colony in the West Indies. Her father’s status means she was born free, unlike the Black mother she never knew, and she disdains politics in favor of standard feminine pursuits. But the island’s enslaved people are rising in rebellion. After she sees Vincent Ogé executed for his racial justice activism, Sylvie realizes her complicity in the horrific system.

The action scenes are strikingly written as Sylvie and her half-brother Gaspard narrowly escape being killed and, eventually, sail to Paris, where they stay with their kindly aunt. Among their neighbors are the Duplay family and their soon-to-be-famous tenant, Maximilien Robespierre. As Sylvie’s mind expands through their conversations, she falls into an affair with Robespierre’s confidante and mistress, Cornélie Duplay, though admires Robespierre deeply and can’t get him off her mind.

It takes audacity to insert a fictional character amidst the French Revolution’s major players, but Sivak manages to pull it off. That said, Sylvie can be reckless—leaving the house in pearls with impoverished sans-culottes nearby isn’t the brightest move—and the prose occasionally lands heavily. The scope is impressively wide-ranging as Sylvie, from her unique vantage as a woman of color, observes the shifts between different political factions and realizes her power and its limitations.

Cinematic details unfold on the page as violent discord plays out on Paris’s streets and Sylvie ponders the similarities and differences between the two revolutions. Thought-provoking and passionate, this story marks Sivak as an author worth watching.

Mademoiselle Revolution was published by Berkley in August (I reviewed it for the Historical Novels Review, from a NetGalley copy).  

Historical novel showcase for University Press Week 2022, part 2

Here's the second half of the University Press Week celebration at Reading the Past, with nine other new and forthcoming historical novels (by seven authors) from a variety of university presses.

A story of local dramas and racism in a "sundown town" (where Black people were warned to stay away after dark) in rural Illinois in the 1960s, James Janko's What We Don't Talk About is out this month from the University of Wisconsin Press.  (Published November 2022)

Code of Honor is the 16th novel in the Peter Wake nautical adventure series from award-winning novelist Robert N. Macomber.  Over the past twenty years, the series has moved from small, Florida-based Pineapple Press to McBooks Press, a publisher of adventure fiction, and now to the Naval Institute Press. This latest entry follows Wake, now Rear Admiral after a decades-long career in the U.S. Navy, through the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05.  (Published April 2022)

Mercer University Press in Macon, Georgia, publishes multiple historical novels each year. John Pruitt's Tell It True centers on the murder of a Black lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army reserve and the subsequent investigation, which pulls in the stories of journalists, politicians, the police, and more during a time of Civil Rights protests in summer 1964.  (Published October 2022)

Laura Secord's An Art, a Craft, a Mystery is unusual for the genre is that it's a work of adult fiction written as poetry.  It comes from Livingston Press, the literary imprint at the University of West Alabama.  Set in mid-17th-century Connecticut, the novel reveals the little-known stories of two real-life women who were accused of witchcraft. (Published February 2022)

In terms of literary works, Stephen F. Austin State University (SFA) Press specializes in East Texas and regional settings. Anne Sloan's Her Choice features a female journalist covering the 1928 Democratic National Convention in Houston as the city attempts damage control after a lynching takes place there days before the crowds arrive. (Published November 2022)

The lives of early 20th-century residents of the Southwest also figure in C. W. Smith's Girl Flees Circus, about an aviatrix making a sudden appearance in a tiny New Mexican town, upending everyone's lives (and her own).  From the University of New Mexico Press, which has an active fiction list and has also published juvenile fiction.  (Published September 2022)

Norwegian-Danish novelist Sigrid Undset won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1928; her best-known work is her three-volume epic of a woman's tumultuous life in medieval Norway, Kristin Lavransdatter. Tiina Nunnally received acclaim for the modern translation. More recently, she took on the project of translating Undset's Olav Audunssøn saga, also set in 13th-century Norway.  (The previous translation was published as The Master of Hestviken.)  Details at the website of its publisher, the University of Minnesota Press, mention that their edition of Olav Audunssøn is the first English version of this series in nearly 100 years. The first three volumes have appeared so far.  Read more at The Modern Novel website. (Published 2020-2022)