Category Archives: historical fiction

The Love Elixir of Augusta Stern*****

Posted on by

Augusta Stern is about to turn eighty, and she’s being forced into retirement, darn it. Her beloved niece persuades her to leave New York and spend what remain of her golden years in a Florida seniors’ community. From there, a wave of surprising events unfolds, changing Augusta’s life.

My thanks go to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

Loigman’s debut novel came in 2016, and as of now, she’s published three more. Every single one is golden. This author writes with warmth and intentionality, and although the first was wonderful, each subsequent one has been better than the last. And so, although I have gone on to read other novels by other authors since I finished this one, this is the one I’m still thinking about.

You see, in 1922, Augusta’s mother became gravely ill. Try though they might, neither the doctors nor her pharmacist father were able to help her, and she died. Augusta, her sister, and her father were all plunged into a dark and terrible place without her.  Great Aunt Esther showed up to run the household, and she brought with her a case full of herbs and tinctures; Esther was an apothecary. Her methods, which were sometimes unconventional, put her at odds with her nephew, but they got results, sometimes where conventional medicine had failed. Soon Augusta was spending her hours after school helping her father in the pharmacy, and sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to observe Esther devising natural concoctions of her own. Esther declared Augusta to be her heir; she had a loving heart and a healer’s instincts.

Her social life was very limited, absorbed as she was with the family business, but the brightest spot in her day was when Irving Ripken, her father’s delivery boy, came to work. Often, they would talk as they worked; in time, they fell in love. Imagine her horror, then, when he abruptly married someone else and moved to Chicago! Augusta never recovered from the blow, and so she has never married.

Now, imagine her astonishment when sixty years later in Rallentando Springs, Irving shows up at the pool!

Much of what follows is what a reader might expect, but the details and character development take the story to a higher plane, and as we follow it, we also see the events of 1922, and these enable us to understand these characters and what drives them. There’s an unusually clever twist at the end, and it’s one that I absolutely do not see coming.

Ordinarily I would include ways in which the novel fell short or could be improved, but that’s impossible in this case. Loigman has spun magic for us from start to finish, and all I can do is bow in appreciation, and recommend this novel to you.

Let Us Descend, by Jesmyn Ward*****

Posted on by

Reading Jesmyn Ward always hurts so good. In Let Us Descend, she conveys the heartbreak and sense of betrayal a young girl, Annis, faces when she and her mother are sold separately by their owner—who is also her father–and the ways that she copes, and also the ways she is helped by the spirits of her ancestors.

My thanks go to Scribner and Net Galley for the invitation to read and review. I’m sorry to be so late here, and am grateful that the literary world has recognized this book for the masterpiece that it is.

You may have seen other reviews in which I complain and gnash my teeth over historical inaccuracies; sometimes I rant over an author’s failure to portray a child in a way that is developmentally inaccurate. There will be none of that here. Ward has taken the time and done the research, and so her well crafted characters aren’t compromised by sloppy background details. I had to take this story in small bites because it is excruciatingly sorrowful.  For part of it I listened to the audio version; this is a treat in itself, as Ward reads her own novel.

Some reviewers have taken issue with the amount of magical realism Ward employs. I disagree with them. How can any novelist portray such a story and such a character as Annis with any glimmer of hope, unless they employ these literary devices? Does anyone really want to read a book that is miserable at the outset, miserable in the middle, and miserable even at its bitter, wretched conclusion? Without hope, there’s not much incentive to keep reading, nor would it have been satisfying to write; but Ward will not and does not revise history simply to make her readers more comfortable. There was only one way to tell this story and be true to history and her characters, and Ward found it.

Yes, it’s a rough read, but it’s so well written that many readers must have smiled through their tears. Know that, of necessity, this story is absolutely loaded with triggers; assuming that you can navigate them without coming undone, I highly recommend this story to you.

The Hazelbourne Ladies Motorcycle and Flying Club, by Helen Simonson*****

Posted on by

Helen Simonson is the author of the bestselling novel, Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand. With her new release, The Hazelbourne Ladies Motorcycle and Flying Club, she is once more in her element, creating believable characters and using them to skewer the pervasive racism and class snobbery of Britain, and also, in a smaller way, that of the U.S.  With outstanding word smithery and an unflagging pace, this historical novel should be number one on your summer reading list.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The year is 1919; the place is England. Constance Haverhill has been ousted from her job running an estate; the Great War has ended, and now the women that have been gainfully employed and done a fine job are unceremoniously ejected so that their jobs may go to the men that have returned from the conflict. For the time being, she has a position as a traveling companion to a family friend who’s recuperating at the seashore; once this situation ends, she has no idea where she’ll go or what she’ll do.

Out of nowhere comes Poppy, a daring young woman from a wealthy family. Poppy wears trousers and drives a motorcycle; she befriends Constance and sweeps her into her motorcycle club. Things become even more interesting when Poppy purchases a used biplane to bring home to her brother Harris, a handsome but severely depressed young man who’s lost a leg in the war. At one point he laments, “They look at me as if my brain has gone missing along with the leg. Or rather they refuse to look at me at all.”

Poppy is utterly fearless, challenging local authority and promoting women’s rights. She doesn’t care about the opinions of others; her eye is set on the horizon. And she can do that, because she has a soft nest in which to land. At the same time, Constance is always aware of the stark class division that prevents her from behaving as Poppy does.

“Respectability was the currency in which Constance knew she just trade for the foreseeable future. She…did not have Poppy’s wealth and position from which to defend herself against notoriety.”

There are a number of amusing side characters whose less progressive attitudes contrast with Poppy’s. The two women—also very wealthy—on the adjoining estate sniff at her exploits and declare them to be unladylike. The class division is also highlighted when Constance is offered a position with the hotel where she and Mrs. Fox, the family friend she accompanies, are staying. However, she is told that once she accepts the offer, she can no longer be a guest at the hotel, nor may she use the restaurant, which is a frequent gathering place of Constance’s new friends. No hobnobbing with the clientele will be tolerated; she must use the back door. Constance reflects to herself that wherever she goes, her friend Poppy will use the front door.

Britain’s racist attitudes toward people of color is also featured here, but in a way that does not hijack the plot. There’s an Indian guest of the hotel that is snubbed left and right; at one point, an American visitor attempts to have him excluded from the social events to which he’s been invited. This is resolved in a deeply satisfying manner, as is the issue of taboo friendships formed by Mrs. Fox.

If I could change one thing, it would be to add a bit more nuance. The bad characters are oh so bad; and while the good characters make the occasional mistake, we never doubt their complete goodness. However, this is a minor bone to pick, and overall this is a delightful book.

Highly recommended.

Rednecks, by Taylor Brown*****

Posted on by

“Law only serves them that’s in power. Ain’t no different than always…’Tis the victor who writes the history—and counts the dead.”

I’ve been an enthusiastic fan of author Taylor Brown since reading Gods of Howl Mountain, which was published in 2018. His new novel, Rednecks, is out now, and as with his earlier work, it is outstanding. My great thanks go to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the invitation to read and review.

Brown tells the story of the Battle of Blair Mountain, a very real large scale battle, complete with machine guns, helicopters, tens of thousands of angry, armed miners, and the U.S. Army, an event which really did take place in the Appalachian Mountains in 1921. Over a million rounds were fired, and then the story was suppressed by the government, bosses, and big business media.

 In his author’s note, Brown tells us that the character of Dr. Muhanna, a heroic individual sympathetic to the cause of the miners, is based on his own great-grandfather. There is a meaty explanation of what parts of the story are based on the actual historical record, and what parts—small ones, to be sure—he has changed.

Apart from his skill as a writer and researcher, the thing that I have always loved best about Brown is his deep respect for the working class. It shines through every page of this novel. Mother Jones, the fiery Socialist labor organizer, is here as well, and she is possibly my favorite figure in American history. Unfortunately, she is not at her best here. Past ninety years of age and in poor health, she attempts to deceive the miners into quitting their struggle early once she learns that Washington, D.C. intends to send troops. It’s a pity that her many years of inspirational organizing and leadership are not on display here, but the facts are the facts, and this story is not, after all, chiefly about Mother, but about the miners, so I suppose that Brown has written it in the only honest way that it could be written. There are indeed passages that demonstrate her eloquence and loyalty to workers of every race and ethnicity.

As I read, I like to highlight passages to include as quotes in my review. This time, I came away with 53 quotes. Reluctantly, I am setting most of them aside; you will have to find them yourself. They’re better within the context of the story, anyway.

As a personal aside, I will mention that my own grandfather—“Papaw”—died of Black Lung disease in 1978 after having worked in a nonunion mine in South Dakota beginning in the eighth grade. He had to leave school and work fulltime, as there was not a social net back then, and he and his family would have starved if he had done otherwise. World War II brought him better fortunes, but coal dust, once lodged in the lungs, never leaves.

This is a gritty tale to be sure, one full of bloodshed and suffering, but also of immense courage and inspirational leadership. I read it in small bites lest it work its way into my dreams, until I reached the climax, at which point I had no choice in the matter, and was unable to put it down. This book is one of the year’s best. I highly recommend it to those that love labor history, historical fiction, or that just love a well-told story.

Like the Appearance of Horses, by Andrew Krivak****

Posted on by

I first read Andrew Krivak in 2017, when The Signal Flame was published. His glorious prose is something few authors can match. Here we have another novel involving many of the same characters and to an extent, the same setting. I am happy to get back to it.

My thanks go to NetGalley, Highbridge Audio, and Bellevue Literary Press for the review copies. This book is for sale now.

One of the things that initially drew me to Krivak’s writing is that he occupies a sparsely populated niche with his historical fiction. Who else writes about the Romani Resistance of World War II? Who writes about Romani refugees? Most authors are as susceptible as anyone else to trend following and bandwagonism. Krivak is not. He sets his own course, and he does it with spellbinding prose and sterling self-discipline.  

Here we see three generations of men that go to war, starting with World War II, then to a P.O.W. camp during the Vietnam War, and finally, to Iraq. This is a rough read, friends. There’s just about every possible trigger, so if you’re protecting the more tender parts of your mind, you may need to pass on this one. On the other hand, if you are looking for a catharsis to bring about a good ugly cry, rush out and get this book right this minute.

Krivak doesn’t write page turners; instead, he draws me in and makes me forget where I am and what I was doing a minute ago. His work is deeply absorbing and at times, moving.

Narrator Jamie Renell gives a flawless performance here. The book is tightly plotted enough, however, that the listener needs to pay careful attention. I had both the audio and ebook formats, and I still got confused once in awhile and had to backtrack.

If I could add one more thing to ice Krivak’s literary cake, it would be a well developed female character. The women that appear here seem to have been planted for the purpose of developing the male characters. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and Krivak has crafted this story around a set of actual people and events, though he says it’s a loose representation, and so I can see why he chooses to focus on the men that go to war; yet, since he is taking a few liberties anyway, would it hurt so very much to send off a soldier girl?

This complaint is a minor one. Krivak is a badass, and I do recommend this book to you.

Little Underworld, by Chris Harding Thornton***

Posted on by

Chris Harding Thornton debuted in 2021 with Pickard County Atlas, a book I loved so much that I’ve had a finger in the wind ever since, hoping to score a galley of her next book. This is it. Sadly, I don’t love it the way that I did her first endeavor; perhaps I just loved the first one too much.

My thanks go to Net Galley and Farrar, Strauss and Girard for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Our protagonist is Big Jim, a former cop now working as a P.I. He and his friend Frank, who is still a cop, take a man named Vern out to the river to beat the crap out of him for molesting Jim’s child. The plan is to smack him around and run him out of town, but at the last minute, Jim has a change of heart and snuffs him; Frank covers for him.  This is how the book opens.

My problem is that a great deal of information gets dumped at the outset, primarily characters, and by the thirty percent mark, I am still trying to keep them straight. It took me a ridiculous amount of time just to remember that Jim is the main character. I can’t recall the last time something like this has happened. There is rampant corruption in Omaha, Nebraska during the era of Prohibition, and there are a lot of local politicians whose names get thrown into the melee early. All of them are male and Caucasian, and while I believe that’s historically accurate for the time and place, it doesn’t help me keep them straight. By the halfway mark I have a better sense of who’s who, but I have reached a state where I have to force myself to read the book so I can write the review.

I would have liked to see at least one female character developed in here somewhere.

The pluses here—and there certainly are pluses—have to do with the author’s abundant skill as a wordsmith. This is grit lit, to be sure, and those with sensitive dispositions might want to steer clear. For me, though, when a character is described as “a guy whose canned meat had half the city’s fingers in it,” I love it. There are a few other moments of very dark humor that run along the same rails. What’s clear is that life is cheap, and Prohibition Omaha is a violent, vicious place to be. At one point, Jim wonders if there’s a single building in town that doesn’t have eight or ten corpses concealed in the concrete; in another, he reflects that “there wasn’t much risk of finding anyone innocent in Omaha.”

The second half of the story is better than the first half.

So there you have it. My advice is that if you want to read this book, get it free or cheap, but don’t pay full cover price for it. Meanwhile, I still have mad respect for this author; I look forward to seeing what she produces next.

The Wages of Sin, by Harry Turtledove**

Posted on by

Before reading this book, I had always enjoyed Harry Turtledove’s alternative history novels, which have a sci fi vibe and usually a good dose of humor, sometimes of the laugh out loud variety. When I saw that this one was available, I leapt on it. What a freaking disappointment!

Nevertheless, my thanks go to NetGalley and ARC Manor Publishing for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The premise is that HIV—renamed The Wasting– erupts in the early 1500s, but instead of dismissing it as a disease spread by gay men, English society sequesters its women in the home, never to be permitted friends or visitors, never allowed to go out and do their own shopping without extreme cloaking of bodies and faces, and extreme risk for committing the social sin of venturing out of the house. Viola is supposedly our protagonist, a young, intelligent woman of marriageable age who fumes under her constraints and entertains herself by reading her physician father’s collection of medical books.

Peter, whom we actually see a good deal more of, is the young man that the parents have arranged to marry Viola. The two of them are permitted to meet (in Viola’s home of course) in order to determine whether they are compatible. They are. Now Peter is off to university, and for the most part, we go with him.

Immediately we meet Peter’s obnoxious, wealthy roommate, who is masturbating when we encounter him. Turns out this guy never thinks of anything except sex. Peter is determined to wait for marriage because of the Wasting. There’s no treatment and there’s no cure; he doesn’t want it, and he doesn’t want to give it to Viola. His roommate, however, frequents brothels on an almost nightly basis and talks about it, graphically, interminably. Think of every vulgar, disgusting, disrespectful term you don’t want to know about women’s anatomy and the various sexual positions, and this jerk uses them all. All. The. Time. Repetitiously, constantly, and for no reason except, apparently, to make us hate him, which we do, and possibly as filler.

Have you ever known someone that makes up excuses to use objectionable language, because, see, they’re quoting someone? That’s how this feels to me.

There is no character development of any kind here. The book is short, but it feels interminable. I made it halfway through, then read the last twenty-five percent to be sure there wasn’t some redemptive element at the climax or the end. But there is no climax. There’s no story arc. For that matter, there are no gay people or bath houses, but hey, it’s alternative history, it’s fiction, and if Turtledove wants to leave out the gay people, he can do that.

But the disease? It comes from Africa. Oh, of course it does. Blaming the Black people for everything has apparently made it through from our time period to Turtledove’s invented world.

There is no redemptive feature to be found here, and frankly, the second star in my rating is there only as a wistful nod to this author’s earlier works. I recommend this book to anyone forced to purchase something for a horny, obnoxious male that wants a socially acceptable way to read porn. That’s it.

The Great Divide, by Cristina Henriquez*****

Posted on by

I found The Great Divide, by Cristina Henriquez, on a short list of most anticipated novels of 2024. I don’t like to get shut out when a book gets this much buzz; then there’s the added draw of an unusual setting. The U.S. doesn’t see a lot of fiction published that’s set primarily in Panama during the early 1900s, and so that sealed it. My thanks go to NetGalley and Harper Collins for the review copies, both audio and digital. This story lives up to the hype, and I recommend it to you.

I am not so sure about it at the outset. There is a robust quantity of characters that are important to the story, and each of them is given a brief chapter all to themselves. I wonder whether they will ever intersect, or if this will turn out to be a collection of short stories, but before much longer, characters are meeting other characters. They don’t all end up together in the end, but we can see the ties that have formed. There are a lot of people to keep track of, and for me, having both the print version and the audio is tremendously helpful. Robin Miles narrates in a way that is natural and fluid, and I don’t notice much of what is around me when I listen to her. But once in awhile a character is mentioned and I draw a blank; here is where the Kindle version is essential, because I highlight the names of each of the characters, and this enables me to instantly flip back to where they were introduced to us without having to stop listening. Eventually, of course, I no longer need to do so, but knowing that I can makes for stress-free reading.

I am engaged with these characters, each of whom feels real to me, and I groan when I see them get into trouble, and sigh with relief once they are in the clear again. The ones that I care about most are a father and son that are estranged from each other, neither wanting to stay that way, yet both of them incorrectly interpreting the silence of the other. As we reach the climax, I can tell there are three ways for this situation to resolve: they can reconcile; one of them can die; or the son can decide to follow another character back to the U.S.A. without reconnecting with his dad.  It only now occurs to me that there was a fourth possibility, which was to leave them still estranged at the end; but by this time, Henriquez had shown herself to be a better writer than that, and while I won’t tell you how they wound up, I will say that she didn’t leave her readers dangling.

Because this is an intricately woven tale with a lot of equally important characters, I’m not including any quotes, but I will say that Henriquez is a talented writer, and anyone that loves good historical fiction should get this book and read it. This applies even more so to those interested in Latin American history and the building of the canal. I hadn’t read her work before, but she’s on my radar now, and I look forward to seeing what she writes next.

The Women, by Kristin Hannah****

Posted on by

Kristin Hannah can draw character like nobody else. Her latest novel, The Women, tells the story of Frances “Frankie” McGrath, a young woman from an upper middle class family that follows her brother to Vietnam, serving as an army nurse. Frankie is a character that will stay with me long after I read dozens of other novels, and this experience is made even more memorable by the talented Julia Whelan, the voice actor that narrates the audio version. My thanks go to NetGalley, St. Martin’s Press, and Macmillan Audio for the review copies. It will be available to the public February 6, 2024.

Frankie is twenty years old when we meet her, and her family is throwing a party for her big brother and best friend, Finley, who is leaving to serve in the U.S. Navy. Kennedy is in the White House, and most Americans still bear an implicit trust in their government. But Frankie is worried about Fin, and doesn’t like that he is about to put himself in harm’s way. He reassures her, “It isn’t dangerous, Frankie. Trust me. I’m a Naval Academy graduate, an officer with a cushy assignment on a ship. I’ll be back in no time. You’ll hardly have time to miss me.”

Frankie completes her nurse’s training, then signs on to join her brother, but before she is even packed, the telegram arrives. Finley is dead; killed in action.

The plot itself is unremarkable. Yes, war is hell; yes, friends die. And yes, a married man that sees an attractive, vulnerable American woman in a place where they are scarce, will lie like a rug in order to get close to her. But in Hannah’s hands, every joy and every sorrow are real and visceral, because we believe.

Frankie serves as a combat nurse at the front, and works in every possible hard situation. Sometimes the lights go out during surgery because a bomb has fallen; at one point her sleeping quarters is bombed and has to be rebuilt. She works for days on end without sleep when it’s necessary. And the trauma follows her home.

My only quibble with this otherwise outstanding story is the emphasis Hannah places on the abuse of returning troops by the public. She brings in the old saw about them being spat upon and called baby killers, even though an easy search confirms what I remember: this is mostly myth. Just as women weren’t really burning bras, most troops were not greeted with abuse. It’s true that the wildly patriotic parades that greeted the troops that returned from World War Two are not there for these men and women, but then, the Korean War vets didn’t see them, either. Historical fiction should honor history, not rewrite it.

With this caveat, I recommend this book to you. Do read it; it’s a damn fine novel. But do so critically, because you can’t always believe everything you read.

North Woods, by Daniel Mason*****

Posted on by

By now the word is out about this genre-bending novel. North Woods, by Daniel Mason, is nothing short of brilliant. My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the invitation to read and review; this book is available to the public now.

This book is all about the setting; there are some terrific characters, but don’t get too attached to any of them, because for the most part, they come and then leave. Rather, our story is about a cabin in the woods of upstate New York, and the acreage surrounding it, and how its use changes over the years.

We commence before the American Revolution, and so in the beginning, the narrative has the style of a very old diary, with antiquated spelling and language. This section is the reason I am so dreadfully late reading and reviewing this book. Honestly, the first fifteen percent or so is as dull as watching paint dry. I would begin reading it, but then my eyes would glaze over and I knew I had some other things to read by authors I knew and loved, and so I would switch books. But my Goodreads friends were raving about this book in unusually large numbers. Nobody didn’t like it. And so I summoned my self-discipline and went to it in a determined fashion, fortified by the audio version, which I received from Seattle Bibliocommons. This was very helpful. And once I got past that dry beginning, I began to understand why other readers were raving about it.

The first characters that are noteworthy are twin daughters named Alice and Mary, who are left to run the apple orchards on their own when their father goes off to war. He is a Loyalist, determined to save New England for his king. He doesn’t survive the war, which is just as well, because the locals hate him; he chose the wrong side to fight for. Neither daughter marries, and the property eventually goes to someone else.

The chain of owners is varied and, in many regards, absolutely hilarious. We see one new owner after another explore the house and the grounds, and of course, none of them has a full picture of the previous owner. I love the fact that I know more about this place than its most recent purchaser, and the assumptions that they make range from the merely incorrect to the disastrous. I cannot say too much more, although I particularly enjoy the character of George, whose phlegmatic, unattractive qualities are rendered uproarious in the audio version, and also the medium, a complete charlatan who’s horrified when she inadvertently awakens some actual supernatural beings. I would love to say more, but that would ruin it for you, and that would be a crime because surprise is an important part of the book’s success.

There is a formidable cast of actors that take on the reading for the audio book, and for those readers that are on the fence between audio and print, I recommend the audio version; better still, use both together.

After reading this one clever, memorable book, I will be watching to see what Daniel Mason writes next, because whatever it is, you know it will be good.

Highly recommended to those that enjoy historical fiction, literary fiction, humor, and horror.