The Orchid Hour: Book Review & Conversation with Nancy Bilyeau

Posted on by - Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors

For this installment of Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors, Nancy Bilyeau returns to talk about her new historical mystery, The Orchid Hour. (Isn’t the cover beautiful?)

Nancy first appeared here on VBlog after the release of her suspense novel The Blue, set in the rivalrous porcelain industry of 18th century Europe.

The Orchid Hour takes us to the Prohibition Era of the 1920s, when, despite the law, alcohol was flowing freely. The book’s title is the name of a speakeasy that serves as the focal point of the action. Aiming to appeal to a highbrow clientele, the world-class nightclub is decorated with a species of orchid that gives off a heady fragrance only at night. The club’s front is, appropriately, a flower shop, where one must have the trust of the florist to gain entry.

I remember getting a feel for the speakeasy days at a bar/restaurant called Chelsea Place, which operated from 1974 through 1992 on Eighth Avenue in Manhattan. From the avenue, you entered what appeared to be an antique shop. In the back of the “store,” you opened the mirrored door of an antique wardrobe to enter the piano bar and restaurant.

Exciting and glamorous, right? Well, in this novel, Nancy Bilyeau does not shy away from the underbelly of the Jazz Age: bootlegging, gang violence, rising crime, and the Sicilian Mafia (Cosa Nostra). The protagonist, Audenzia De Luca (“Zia”), is an Italian immigrant, young mother, and WWI widow. Two murders that hit close to home give Zia the motivation to transform her conservative appearance and get a job at the speakeasy, where, she believes, she will find clues to the unsolved murders.

No spoilers here! You’ll just have to read the book to find out what Zia discovers! Publishers Weekly (starred review) says, “Historical mystery fans will find this irresistible.” And so did I!

Welcome back, Nancy! Orchids and speakeasies: a unique and interesting combination! How did your vision of The Orchid Hour come to you? Was there any particular NYC nightclub in the Prohibition Era that served as an inspiration?

My vision of the novel began with wanting to write a main character who is touched by organized crime in New York City and that would be part of her story but not her whole story. I created a main character who is born in Italy and immigrates to New York City with her family in the early 20th century but does not act out the stereotypes of Italian American women that you see in movies and television shows.

Because it was Prohibition that basically created the mafia—one of history’s greatest unintended consequences—I thought that putting the novel in the 1920s made sense. I find the first part of the decade more interesting than the second.

The Orchid Hour is a cross between The Cotton Club (which opened at the end of 1923) and Chumley’s, another real-life club, this one a secret speakeasy in the West Village that attracted writers such as Dorothy Parker and Eugene O’Neill.

Your protagonist Zia, a young mother and widow living with her in-laws, is conflicted about her desire to behave according to the more liberal standard American women enjoyed in the Jazz Age as opposed to her family’s rigid expectations under the ordine della famiglia, “the unforgiving, centuries-old code of the villages of southern Italy.” How did these two standards for women differ, and how far did Zia deviate from the Italian code?

Those two standards were a world apart! The ordine della famiglia meant to live for the family, to subordinate yourself to the good of the family. Yet in the 1920s young American women, primarily in the cities, were cutting their hair, shedding their girdles, wearing modern clothes, going out dancing, and seeking independence from their families. To do any of those things was a deviation of the code for Zia.

Some of the characters in The Orchid Hour are purely fictional and others are actual people—especially some of the organized crime figures from the 1920s. What guides you in deciding to use historic figures rather than fictional characters in your novels? As a corollary, what guides you in placing the historic figures in fictional, as opposed to factual, settings and scenes?

I like to put real people in my historical fiction. My main characters are always imaginary, but I often have them playing off real people. From E.L. Doctorow to Philip Kerr, novelists writing fiction set in earlier times have done that. Even Tolstoy slipped Napoleon into War and Peace! These historical figures have had a big impact on the times in which they lived. As I like to put my stories in the thick of things, it seems fitting to populate my stories with these real figures. And they’re such fun to research and write.

Zia’s cousin, Salvatore Lucania, plays a big part in the novel. We get to know Sal through Zia’s eyes, first, as a sympathetic character, then, as she slowly awakens to his true nature and criminal behavior. I thought this was an inventive way to draw both sides of his character, the good and the bad. Any reader who goes into the novel without knowing much about the Mafia [I’ve withheld his more commonly recognized name here!] will be awakened along with Zia. Did you take liberties or stay true to your research in creating Sal’s gentler side?

I did a lot of research into Salvatore Lucania. We won’t give away his nickname, but he’s considered one of the “founders” of the American mafia in the 20th century. He didn’t give many interviews, to put it mildly, and the book about his life that was supposedly written “with” him is most likely a hoax. There’s a ton of contradictory information about how violent he was, how intelligent he was, and what his attitude toward women was. I did follow the most-accepted facts about his family background (abusive father), early poverty, education, and first arrests. Salvatore said he never wanted to have children because he didn’t want to have a son who’d be ashamed of a criminal father. That tells you a lot.

Finally, a question that may be of interest to writers. The Zia chapters are in first person, and other chapters with different POV characters are in third person. What considerations went into deciding this structure for The Orchid Hour?

All of my novels up to now have been written in the first person. I wanted to experiment in this book. I think it increases suspense to bring in other points of view. Sometimes the reader knows more about a threat to Zia than Zia knows herself!

Thank you, Nancy. We look forward to your next great novel!

Dear readers: If you happen to be in Manhattan, pick up an author-signed copy of The Orchid Hour at The Mysterious Bookshop. (They also ship if you want to order online.)

The Orchid Hour is also available wherever books are sold, including these: Bookshop.org, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon (P.S. The e-book is currently on SALE for 99 cents on Amazon for a week).

Nancy loves to place strong female heroines in fascinating historical settings. Check out Nancy’s website for descriptions of all her novels.

Book Review: Janet Roger’s Shamus Dust

Posted on by - Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors

 

Excuse me while I teleport back to New York of April 2020, into this surreal mix of pandemic grief and lockdown amid a gently emergent spring, pink blossoms and fragrant air. My transport is experiencing delay. I’m still walking the streets of war-ravaged London, Christmas 1947, where the foundations of bombed-out buildings, under a light frosting of snow, suggest the outlines of ancient Roman ruins—the key to a puzzling series of murders.

Give me another sec. Almost here, still a bit there. Let me knock back the last tumbler of gin and crush out my red lipstick-stained cigarette. Unfiltered.

 

Janet Roger is to blame. Her debut novel, Shamus Dust, pulled me in and keeps running like a 40s black-and-white film noir on the brain.

 

I’m no fan of categories and hesitate to apply a label or “genre” to this work of art. Hard-boiled, gritty, and atmospheric, yes, but also poetic and literary. Roger confesses a Raymond Chandler influence, and the similarities are evident, but her prose isn’t as spare and tough when she’s in the mood to embellish. There are moments when this book is purely about the writing. While some reviewers say that it takes them out of the story, this lover of language found it right up her alley. More on that later.

The story is told from the point of view of an American private investigator called Newman, or Mr. Newman—a man who possibly lacks a first name. An insightful interpreter of human frailties and dark motives, Newman moves in a world of distinctive characters from every stratum of society. By the end of the book, the upper crust is looking seedier and far less heroic than the inhabitants of London’s underbelly. Roger has created a large cast of characters, gradually dropping tidbits to reveal their back stories and relationships. To mention a few: Councilman, archaeologist, entrepreneur, architect, lawyer, medical examiner, police commissioner, detective inspector, nurse, barber, haberdasher, pimp/blackmailer, various prostitutes, and a homeless shell-shocked WWII vet. Add several murders, a rotating field of suspects, a complex web of clues, and you’ve got one hell of a novel, with an ending you won’t see coming.

Shamus Dust is not a beach read or superficial entertainment to pick up when you’re mildly distracted. You’ll need to take this one slowly to savor the language, its sophistication, wit, irony, unique metaphors, and turns of phrase. You’ll need time to ponder the complexity of the plot. The author honors the reader’s intelligence, never overstates, poses one intriguing puzzle after another. She follows Newman through London without revealing what he’s up to in a scene until, several pages on, the reader is allowed to discover the meaning of the interaction. There are many of these “ah-ha” moments, opportunities to marvel at the cleverly interlacing intricacies.

The writing style. The word choices. Here are just a few.

Physical descriptions that instantly evoke an image:

“The kind of room where you’re meant to sit at night in a cravat and a quilted robe reading Kipling by firelight until the Madeira runs out.”

A woman with a “mouth that made the fall of dark-red hair look incidental.”

“Littomy’s nose was built for a profile on old coins.”

A man’s “hair shone in flat stripes across the dome of his head, where you could count them if conversation ran thin.”

At a party attended by the one percent, a young scion is “wearing black-tie as if he’d been weaned in it.”

Chandleresque:

A volatile thug looks like “he could hurt a man and enjoy the work.”

Witty dialogue:

The butler to a sloshed hostess asks Newman what he would like to drink. He replies, “Not a thing. Mrs. Willard will be taking cocktails for both of us.”

And how are these lines for poetry?:

“Night was crawling in a deep, wet hole.”

“She put a hand flat against my chest and her gaze dipped back in an ocean, then surfaced again, dripping its dark purple lights.”

“He looked wild-eyed around a room so hushed you could hear him blink away the tears.”

The book opens with one of my favorite, longer passages. Newman says he has never had trouble falling asleep and “sleeping like the dead” until now:

 “Lately, I’d lost the gift. As simple as that. Had reacquainted with nights when sleep stands in shrouds and shifts its weight in corner shadows, unreachable. You hear the rustle of its skirts, wait long hours on the small, brittle rumors of first light, and know that when finally they arrive they will be the sounds that fluting angels make. It was five-thirty, the ragged end of a white night, desolate as a platform before dawn when the milk train clatters through and a guard tolls the names of places you never were or ever hope to be. I was waiting on the fluting angels when the telephone rang.”

Wow. Any insomniac (namely, me) can relate.

Now, don’t you want to read something like this? I may teleport back there now.

Hipster Death Rattle: Book Review and Conversation with Richie Narvaez

Posted on by - Book review, Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors, Mystery fiction

For this installment of Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors, I’m delighted to welcome author Richie Narvaez to VBlog for a conversation about his recently released debut novel.

Hipster Death Rattle

The title alone piques your interest, doesn’t it? And how about that cover art by JT Lindroos? Very eye catching. But more important: This is a debut novel not to miss.

If you like crime fiction and want something different and unique, this is for you, especially if you live, or have ever lived, in New York City. To avoid spoilers, I won’t give away any more of the plot than what’s in the publisher’s blurb:

Murder is trending. Hipsters are getting slashed to pieces in the hippest neighborhood in New York City: Williamsburg, Brooklyn. While Detectives Petrosino and Hadid hound local gangbangers, slacker reporter Tony Moran and his ex-girlfriend Magaly Fernandez get caught up in a missing person’s case—one that might just get them hacked to death.

Filled with a cast of colorful characters and told with sardonic wit, this fast-moving, intricately plotted novel plays out against a backdrop of rapid gentrification, skyrocketing rents, and class tension. New Yorkers and anyone fascinated with the city will love the story’s details, written like only a true native could. Entertaining to the last, this rollicking debut is sure to make Richie Narvaez a rising star on the mystery scene.

At the Mysterious Bookshop

I was fortunate to attend the launch party for Hipster at the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan, where the author treated us to a reading of the first few pages. His lively and vivid writing was made even more so by his spot-on delivery and timing. Let’s hope that an audio book narrated by Narvaez himself is in the future.

The novel features a large cast of characters, people from all walks of life and many ethnicities. From a lesser author this might pose a problem, but Narvaez has a knack for making his characters memorable. They come alive on the page through quirky physical traits, dialogue and actions, details about where they live, what they eat, what stores they patronize, and the pets they own. In one scene, for example, a seven-month pregnant thirtysomething yuppie named Erin and her husband Steven (for whom she has endless cutesy nicknames such as “Stevely,” “McSteven,” and “Steve-o-rini”), dine at a new Burundian restaurant in Williamsburg and, slightly nauseated from the Burundian bananas and beans, return to their condo in an upscale, glittering glass tower with river view, where Erin smartly thanks her Mexican doorman with a “Gracias,” confident in the perfection of her Spanish accent because she actually once had a Mexican friend in Texas who complimented her on it. I was laughing.

As you may guess from the book blurb, there are, indeed, machete slashings in Hipster, but if excessive gore gives you nightmares (as it does for me), rest assured that the bloody details are kept to a relaxing minimum, leaving the reader to use his or her imagination, as desired. In the context of the murder mystery and police investigation, social commentary about gentrification and ethnic tensions is expertly woven into the plot in a non-preachy, entertaining way. The author gives us, for example, the dying thoughts of some of the victims, which invariably include emotion-laden regrets about the imagined fate of their apartments after they die. It’s hilarious, but at the same time, a statement about the universal preoccupation of New Yorkers with housing and real estate.

And now, I’m pleased to say that the author has graciously agreed to answer some of my burning questions.

Welcome to VBlog, Richie. I thoroughly enjoyed Hipster Death Rattle. Social commentary figures prominently in your novel, enhancing, never detracting from, the story line and characters. What led you to incorporate this theme into a murder mystery as opposed to, say, a literary or mainstream novel, and what do you see as the advantages of this format?

Ah, well, I did originally try to write Hipster as a mainstream book, but it was too close to me and I stumbled. I couldn’t get past my own bitterness about gentrification in Williamsburg, and all the characters were just talking points, not people. I needed a plot to anchor my pain and my ideas.

And that’s the thing about genre writing isn’t it, the thing that drives literary or mainstream snobs mad: it’s got plot! I could’ve done this as a horror or sci fi novel, but crime fiction is the most grounded of the so-called genres, and I wanted this story to have literal resonance, not metaphorical. And crime fiction is a very flexible format—flexible as a dancer! You ignite the story with the mystery, and the process of its being solved allows the protagonists and the reader to encounter people and points of view.

Of course some readers would prefer to have their corpses served without a side of social commentary, so I may lose those readers. But many of the greats—Christie, Chandler, Highsmith, Paretsky—have social commentary in their works. Crime fiction is actually a perfect vehicle for social commentary.

I knew there was a reason I keep dancing—to make my crime fiction better! As for the flexibility of the genre…maybe this book was therapy or vicarious payback for you? (“Lolz,” as your character Gabrielle likes to say.) “No one there is who loves a hipster,” whispers the murderer as he comes upon his next victim. How much of this is personal for you, based on your experience, witnessing the gradual transformation of the neighborhood of your youth?

It’s all very personal. I was born in Greenpoint Hospital and raised in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I went away for college, but then returned to witness the rise of gentrification. Slowly, gradually, I saw people displaced, many of my friends and relatives, and I saw the disrespect and erasure of the culture of the people who had lived there for so long.

To be clear, gentrification is not a natural process. Yes, neighborhoods change hands all the time, but gentrification is different, it’s insidiously manufactured, a combination of real estate developer and governmental cunning, urban renewal for profit, not for people.

I’m not sure how much payback there is in writing the book. The Powers that Be would likely not take notice, and they will likely never be punished for their greed. But, therapy, yes, a little. Although the pain does not go away completely. It just feels better for a little while.

Carpe diem, Richie. My Latin is a little rusty, but…

Hah! Habeas corpus and obiter dictum!

Touché! Yes, we lawyers tend to sprinkle in the Latin and forget that it isn’t English. But I did learn some new non-legal Latin from your book. I like the way you worked it into the dialogue between Chino and his former college professor and bad guy, Litvinchouk. We understand most of it in context, and it adds a lot of humor to their relationship. How did this idea come about?

The Latin thing came ab initio from the fact that the person I partially based the character of Chino on actually did minor in Latin in college. So at first it was just a neat character detail, and it allowed me to spend hours learning some very basic Latin myself. But then I realized it added some irony. People hate hipsters for being snobby. Yet, here is a main character who holds on to and cusses in a dead tongue, a language darling to the elite and the intellectual. Also, Chino is a Latino who can speak Latin but not Spanish, underlining his separation from his own culture, Othering him to underscore his status as another kind of hipster himself.

What are your tips for writers who want to incorporate irony and humor into their writing? Or does this just come naturally to you and woe to us?

I have to say the humor seems to come fairly naturally for me. A genetic quirk. Or the legacy of a sensitive childhood. Although, I have to say, in the first draft of Hipster there was no humor. I was trying to be a serious crime writer and write seriously about a serious subject. But I realized I wasn’t very satisfied with that, and it kind of bored me. So I went back and added in the funny.

Now, it’s difficult to tell someone how to be funny and ironic. Not taking yourself too seriously is key. And I will say the chief tool to use is surprise. Humor and irony come out of the unexpected. So, as you’re writing along, stop and think about what everyone expects will happen or be said next, and then do the opposite or at least sideways, something silly and/or something that resonates with the theme of what you’re trying to say. In any case, don’t give the readers what they expect.

Good advice for writers, but I won’t allow you to thwart something I’m expecting from you: more great writing. What’s next? What’s on your computer screen these days?

Littering my desktop are several short stories in various stages as well as a novel, but that seems to be a permanent state of affairs for me. At the moment I’ve got a YA novel making the publisher rounds. And there’s a second book of short stories, to follow Roachkiller and Other Stories, I hope to have out next year.

Best of luck on all these endeavors, Richie. I look forward to reading your next book.

Dear Readers,

You can get Hipster Death Rattle from Down and Out Books (see also links to booksellers on the Down and Out Books site), and at the Mysterious Bookshop.

After reading Hipster, if you’re looking for more good summer reading, I’ve built up quite an archive of book reviews and author Q & As. Click the VBlog tab, and then, on the sidebar, “Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors” or “Legal Eagles” (my series on attorneys writing fiction). You will find articles on books by all of these amazing authors and more: Kevin Egan, Nancy Bilyeau, Manuel Ramos, Allison Leotta, Adam Mitzner, Kate Robinson, David Hicks, Helen Simonson, Eowyn Ivey, William Burton McCormick, and Allen Eskens.

Happy reading!

The Contest: Book Review and Conversation with Kate Robinson

Posted on by - Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors, Literary fiction

I recently made an exciting discovery I’d like to share with you, a story collection by authors new to me, Joe DiBuduo and Kate Robinson.

 

The Contest and Other Stories is exceptional in every respect: concept, writing quality, and pure entertainment value. The nineteen stories in this volume could stand alone as an exquisite collection of short fiction, but the authors have added so much more, framing them, uniquely and imaginatively, in the context of an engaging novella about a struggling art magazine in the 1960s. The magazine holds a monthly short fiction contest, challenging writers to submit tales inspired by classic oil paintings. The nineteen winners of the contest, with the artworks that inspired them, alternate with chapters of the novella.

The short stories run the spectrum from the delightful and fanciful to the macabre and horrific. A few of my favorites: A bone-chilling alternate history of Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo’s demise while exploring Santa Catalina Island in 1542. A look inside the mind of a hallucinating, mad artist, Vincent Van Gogh, negotiating with his muse. A seemingly sweet, romantic nineteenth century tale aboard a passenger ship that surprisingly creeps into a nightmare on the power of memory. A slowly unfolding mystery about the significance of an artifact from the time of Napoleon. A heartwarming paranormal story of reincarnation and transformation, from dead-of-winter tragedy to a sunny future of hope and life.

After each story, I thoroughly enjoyed the ensuing chapter of the novella, eager to learn what would befall the art magazine and its engaging cast of characters, eager to learn, after that, which artwork the editors would choose for the contest and to read the next “contest winner,” assured that it would be something entirely new and outstanding. The novella itself ends in a surprising twist. In short, this was a page-turner, and even better than that, a testament to the value and necessity of art and creativity.

The Contest is for anyone who loves great storytelling, a unique and different reading experience, and thought-provoking themes that honor your intelligence and spur your imagination. I’m thrilled that Kate Robinson, one half of the writing team, has graciously agreed to answer my burning questions about this unique, creative project.

Welcome to VBlog, Kate! Tell us a little about your background and that of your co-author Joe DiBuduo.

We like to say that Joe has the vivid imagination and I have the word-whacking toolbox, as stated in the book bio. Of course, in reality we both have the imaginative and editorial sides of author mind, though we often see things differently. That presents some challenges in collaboration, but it also brings many strengths—the ability to see characters and plots from various angles is helpful.

Joe and Kate

I began writing poetry in childhood and didn’t become interested in writing fiction until my forties, and my initial immersion in poetry fostered a lyrical aspect to my prose, or so I’m told. Joe began writing fiction in his sixties and later adopted poetry into his daily writing routine after he had a good feel for the mechanics of story. He’s developed a style he calls “poetic flash fiction”—he’s partial to telling stories within the confines of many of his poems.

I’m more an anything goes type of writer—I’m game for whatever my subconscious channels at any particular time, and my body of work is smaller than Joe’s but more diverse in that I experiment with many different styles.

How did you and Joe develop the concept for The Contest?

Joe is an artist who works in many media—glasswork, sculpture, and painting. So he has a natural bent for art and a strong interest in art history. He has a great love of coffee table art books and visiting art galleries and museums, and his walls at home are filled with paintings and his front yard is filled with his massive sculptures.

As Joe was learning to write fiction, he chose to use artwork as story prompts. While he worked with these stories inspired by paintings, he envisioned a connected collection of historical stories linked with a more contemporary story about a young man struggling to find his way in the world. And so, The Contest and Other Stories was born.

When I began crafting story, I used my dream journal entries rather than visual art as prompts.

I’m also a museum aficionado, but I lean more toward appreciation of the historical and anthropological aspects of museum collections. I have a BA in Anthropology with emphasis in Museum Studies and a big interest in indigenous peoples’ cultural stories and in their modern fiction.

So we each brought our unique interests and talents into this quirky collection of stories.

Tell us a little about how your collaboration worked.

Joe began presenting the artwork prompted stories to the critique group we both belonged to in the early ‘00s. I felt these stories were his best work at the time (and I still feel that’s true today). I was thoroughly intrigued with the stories and greatly enjoyed critiquing them. Eventually, Joe had a rough draft consisting of the connecting novella and nearly three dozen stories in various stages of completion. He felt bogged down with the enormity of fleshing out the incomplete stories and paring the collection down to a manageable size, and knowing I loved the stories, he invited me to share his vision as a co-editor and co-author. By this time (early 2011), he still lived in north-central Arizona and I had landed in California after a year of working on a Master’s degree in Wales. So the collaboration became one done via lots and lots of emails forwarded back and forth over the next several years.

In retrospect, Joe had the initial vision and the initial go at writing the collection draft, and I followed up with my two cents. In some cases, I simply line edited nearly finished stories, and in other cases, I did substantial research and writing to complete them. I also designed the book interior and did some marketing in the form of submitting stories to journals and anthologies to drum up interest in the collection. We had a half-dozen stories published in advance of the book.

Each story in this collection is unique. Do you have particular favorites?

I’m partial to the stories in which the artists appear, especially those in the context of magical realism or alternate history—or both. “Night Café” is my personal favorite. “Masterpiece” and “A Life in Flowers” are two others I enjoy reading time and time again.

Joe is also particularly proud of “Night Café” because he’s particularly fond of the work of Vincent van Gogh, and because the story won a quarterly New Short Fiction Award at a music website, Jerry Jazz Musician, in 2012.

Kate, thank you for this insight into your collaboration!

Dear Short Story Lovers,

I highly recommend The Contest! Get it here.

Stay tuned for more short story news, coming your way soon! I have three new stories, to be published this year in a magazine and anthologies. And…wish me luck. My latest collection, Your Pick: Selected Stories, is currently a finalist for the 2019 Montaigne Medal. The award, named for French philosopher Michel de Montaigne, is for “the most thought-provoking books. . .that either illuminate, progress, or redirect thought.”

Your Pick is a 5-star Readers’ Favorite and “recommended without reservation” by Book Viral.

The Blue: Book Review and Conversation with Nancy Bilyeau

Posted on by - Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors

For this installment of Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors, I welcome author Nancy Bilyeau to VBlog.

Nancy’s recent release, The Blue, is a novel of suspense set in the rivalrous art and porcelain worlds of 18th century Europe. The protagonist, Genevieve Planché, is an English-born descendant of Huguenot refugees, a young artist who resorts to extreme measures in her quest to follow her dream. Her journey follows an unpredictable path of intrigue, danger, crime, and romance. The characters we meet along the way have their own personal agendas, whether political, commercial, scientific, artistic, or romantic.

“We see blue everywhere in the natural world, in the sky and the sea and the lakes…but what do we really see? It’s ephemeral. A reflection of something else.” So explains the chemist who feverishly works to capture the most desirable shade of blue and successfully apply it to the decoration of porcelain. In the midst of the Seven Years’ War, England and France are in a race to develop this elusive formula for their lucrative porcelain industries.

The Blue is meticulously researched, bursting with colorful details that draw you into the story, from the wild boar hairs in Genevieve’s paint brushes to the dangers of mining cobalt ore deep in the mountains of Saxony. In the month since its release, much has been written about The Blue (see blog tour links, below). It was the Goodreads’ Recommended Choice for Historical Novel in December 2018 and a BookBub Editors’ Choice for New Releases.

No spoilers here! I will simply say that if you enjoy historical fiction, crime and suspense, romance, plot twists, interesting characters, or just a great story, The Blue is for you! And now, to give us some fascinating details behind the scenes, Nancy has graciously agreed to answer some of my burning questions.

Welcome to VBlog Nancy! I understand that you drew on your own Huguenot background in writing The Blue and named a character, Pierre Billiou, after an ancestor. Tell us a bit about your ancestry and the part it played in your inspiration for this work.

I named a character, Pierre Billiou, after my own ancestor, though it is not his life I am describing. I wanted to pay homage to my Huguenot background by using his name. The Pierre in my novel fled France for England as a young child after Louis XIV took action against the Protestants in his kingdom in 1685—it’s called the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Basically, the King was canceling the measures of tolerance for Protestants. He wanted France to be One King, One Faith. Pierre and his family settled in Spitalfields, in London. My book takes place in England and France, so I needed to make these changes.

Now the real Pierre Billiou, not the one in my book but the one I am descended from, left Europe even earlier. France was not too welcoming to Protestants even before Louis XIV took such an action, and there were a great many Huguenot immigrants coming to America. They gathered in New York, South Carolina, and Virginia.  Pierre immigrated to New Amsterdam (now New York City) in 1661. One of his children was born on the boat crossing the Atlantic—I am actually descended from that son. I have two kids, and I can’t imagine giving birth on a boat crossing the Atlantic in the 1660s! I’m very curious about what life was like in all ways for him. What I know is that he built a stone house on Staten Island—it’s still standing today and is on the National Register—and he was involved in colonial government. But when the English sailed into the harbor, they took over. Changed the name of the city and demoted the Dutch and the Huguenots who were running things.

I was able to research Huguenot lives, beliefs, and values—which I was already interested in—while working on this novel, which gave it an extra level for me.

Some writers begin with the creation of character, letting the characters guide them to the story, other writers begin with the creation of plot. How would you describe your writing process for this novel?

I didn’t come up with my main character, Genevieve Planché, and then create a story for her. I came up with the idea of a spy story set in the porcelain world of the 18th century and then I figured out some specifics that led me to the characters. First, where is the story going to take place? I decided to make it about the rivalry between France and England that was so intense during the entire century (and longer!), extending into the porcelain business, so the story would begin in England. What kind of spy did I want to write about? Once I read that Huguenots and their creativity and artistry were essential in several English porcelain factories, Genevieve took shape in my mind. As for Sir Gabriel Courtenay, the “master spy,” he is based on research I did about espionage of the time—can’t say more because of spoilers. But espionage during this time is fascinating—and largely undiscovered country to readers today. I find with historical fiction you can’t come up with fully developed characters until you know your period well, otherwise they might not be grounded in reality. For me to say, I’ll write a brilliant police detective in the 1750s, pretty quickly I would run into the fact that the Bow Street Runners, the forerunners of the British police force, were in very early stages then. You have to avoid a modern mindset in character creation.

The Blue has wonderful passages about the creation and importance of art, and you’ve dedicated the novel to your father, “who loved art so very much.” Tell us about the place of art in your life.

My father from a young age loved art and wanted to paint. He came from the opposite of an artistic family. My grandfather moved his family from Tennessee to Detroit, Michigan, in desperation for work during the Depression. He got a job at Henry Ford that he was proud of. He thought the fact that my father wanted to be an artist meant he wasn’t manly and he was abusive about it. My father enlisted in the US Navy in World War II in its final months as soon as he turned 18. When he returned to Detroit, he went to art school on the GI Bill. He worked as a commercial artist in Illinois and Michigan to support his family, but he had an art studio in our basement and I have many memories of his painting watercolor landscapes down there. He sold his watercolors at art fairs, principally the Ann Arbor Art Fair, and a few Midwest galleries. I used to help out during the Ann Arbor Art Fair; he had a booth on Main Street. Those were long days! But it was a happy exhaustion. So for me, art was the heart and soul of my father, and I was part of that through watching him and helping him a bit. I understood that it was a calling for him that he almost couldn’t control. He always wanted to create. I absorbed the struggle to succeed as an artist and the intense competition and classism. A Michigan factory worker’s son is not going to have an easy path into the art world.

I am not an artist myself, but I am an avid museum goer; I love to look at great art.

In reading the novel, I felt Genevieve’s pain and frustration at the roadblocks to her aspirations as an artist. In your research of 18th century female artists, did the story of any single artist serve as inspiration for your character Genevieve?

I probably drew on some of my own frustration over roadblocks in success as a writer as well as watching my father struggle. He wanted to be acknowledged as a fine artist but he wasn’t treated as one or reviewed as one in his lifetime. His work did sell fairly well, and is still selling on eBay. I read an interesting analysis of his technique online that went with one of these paintings that I think would have made him happy.

I researched a few women artists who had to overcome the disapproval of their being artists in the 18th century because of their gender.  I found the life of  Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun enlightening in several ways. She was successful in the late 18th century and is famous for her portraits of Marie Antoinette. When she was in her teen years, she was painting professionally in France and her studio was actually seized for her practicing without a license! After that she married a painter and he helped her; that was a way for women to surmount the obstacles. She made use of family connections too. Once Marie Antoinette decided to give her commissions, she was obviously set. But what is interesting is that I went to an exhibit of Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and while admiring her body of work I thought some of the faces lacked expressiveness. Here’s the problem: In the 18th century, to be a great artist you needed talent and drive but you also had to have intense training. In my novel, Genevieve realizes she needs to work as an apprentice; she is clear-eyed about the technique she must master to reach a desired level. Her inability to find someone to teach her is what sets her on a certain risky path.

Masterfully woven into your story of riveting suspense are several thematic elements relevant to mid-18th century Europe, including political intrigue, industry and the economy, the roles of gender and social class, and the interplay of art and science. Did you set out to incorporate all these elements into your story?

I didn’t explicitly do that, no. But by being drawn to spying and politics and art and science when they were at this exciting juncture in the 18th century, these other issues naturally come out of that. And I am always drawn to social class in my novels, I think. After four books, I clearly can’t stay away!

I’m very heartened by the readers who like the fact that my novel delves into these areas. I’ve been criticized for it in the past. One industry professional said, “You’d have a much easier time if you’d write romances about dukes and pirates.”

Well, Nancy, I’d say that The Blue has far more to give than a romance about dukes and pirates! I so enjoyed it and look forward to reading whatever you have in store for us next.

I’m with Nancy and writer friends at Mystery Writers of America, NY chapter, holiday party

Dear Readers,

Historical Fiction Virtual Blog Tours is hosting a Giveaway of The Blue. Click here to enter by January 18. Visit the blogs on the tour schedule, listed below.

Nancy is also the author of three, very well-received novels in a Tudor mystery series, The Crown, The Chalice, and The Tapestry. Discover all her books on Goodreads and Amazon.

Blog Tour Schedule

Wednesday, January 9
Review at A Bookish Affair

Thursday, January 10
Review at 100 Pages a Day

Friday, January 11
Review at Passages to the Past

Saturday, January 12
Interview at Passages to the Past

Sunday, January 13
Interview at V.S. Kemanis

Monday, January 14
Review at Let Them Read Books

Tuesday, January 15
Review at Historical Fiction with Spirit

Wednesday, January 16
Excerpt at Umut Reviews

Thursday, January 17
Review at Reading the Past

Friday, January 18
Review at Tar Heel Reader

The Summer Before the War: Book Review and Conversation with Helen Simonson

Posted on by - Book review, Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors

For this installment of Fiction Favorites and Awesome Authors I share with you an outstanding read by the bestselling author of Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, Helen Simonson.

Her second novel, The Summer Before the War, set in the idyllic English town of Rye in 1914, is beautifully written and meticulously researched. Much of the tale is a social comedy of manners, an insightful, if subtle, exploration of gender and class, full of wit, humorous dialogue, and masterful characterization. The traditions and biases of the upper middle-class are juxtaposed tellingly against those of the servant classes, Gypsies, a spinster schoolteacher, and impoverished war refugees from Belgium.

In 1914, gender equality is advancing in baby steps. Simonson aptly illustrates the status of women with several well-drawn characters, most prominently Agatha Kent and Beatrice Nash. The indomitable Agatha, married to a well-respected civil servant, is one of two women on the local school board. She takes the revolutionary step of seeking the board’s approval to hire a woman, Beatrice Nash, as Latin instructor. Beatrice is an independent woman in her early twenties, nearly penniless after her father’s death, unable to make ends meet on a meager inheritance controlled by patronizing trustees. The teacher position is bread and butter to Beatrice, but this reality clashes with Agatha’s tenuous position in recommending her. Agatha warns, “let’s not mention any such awkward necessity” as money when seeking board approval—better to emphasize “teaching as a service rather than a profession.”

Another “awkward” subject is Beatrice’s desire to become a published writer. Agatha tells her to keep this yearning under wraps because it would be “an absolute disaster for a lady in your position to earn a reputation as a bohemian.” Beatrice has no trouble following this advice the first time she’s introduced to Mr. Tillingham, a renowned novelist in Agatha’s social circle. When the subject of female writers comes up, the arrogant and pompous author says he has received “several slightly hysterical requests to read such charming manuscripts” and “would rather cut off my right hand” than read them. He gives the manuscripts to his secretary “to compose her own diplomatic replies and to consign the offending pages to the kitchen stove.” Later on, a publisher sends Beatrice a condescending missive, rejecting her proposal to publish an analysis of her father’s work. Ironically, the publisher has decided to commission Mr. Tillingham for the project!

Agatha is childless but is close to her two nephews, Hugh Grange, a young surgeon, and Daniel Bookham, a poet. Growing up, the cousins spent summers and school holidays in the Kent household. Their chosen professions foreshadow later events during the war. In these characters, we see the personal turmoil wrought by social convention and judgment: in Daniel’s case, discrimination against homosexuality, and in both characters, the pressure to forge marital unions based on class and status rather than love and compatibility. The relationships between the cousins and with their Aunt Agatha are the highlights of the novel, believable and emotionally compelling.

In the first part of the novel, the townspeople live in polite denial of impending war, as hints and irony foreshadow tragic events on the horizon. When spoken of, the war is romanticized as a great adventure. The son of a nobleman joins the Royal Flying Corps because he doesn’t want to enlist in “an ordinary war” and thinks that flying airplanes is “damned good fun!” To complete his image, he shops at Burberry’s because “they do a very good aviator helmet with goggles.” Marriageable young women launch a recruitment brigade, shaming any reluctant young man into enlisting by handing him a white feather (symbol of cowardice), along with a subtle bit of sexual bribery: no offer of marriage will be accepted unless the man is marching off to war. For a proper sendoff, the town hosts a parade with a brass band, displays “model trenches” on the fairgrounds, and tops it off with a grand ball.

The last part of the novel takes us to the front, into the real trenches and a battleground hospital. A strength of the narrative lies in the gradual loss of innocence of the main characters, the contrast between the naivety of their grandiose expressions of patriotism and the tragic reality they ultimately experience. The novel also touches on divided loyalties of family and nationality when the German husband of a British woman is called home for military service. This is an intriguing theme that is so wonderfully explored in William Burton McCormick’s book, Lenin’s Harem, which I reviewed here on VBlog.

Fans of historical fiction are sure to love Simonson’s sweeping novel full of colorful characters, scintillating dialogue, and insightful exploration of relationships during an era of great social change. In this video [click here], the author aptly sums up the major theme: the book is ultimately about “what you think is important to build in your lives, what remains when everything is falling apart, and more specifically, what is destroyed by war and what is burnished in the fire.”

And now, I welcome Helen Simonson to VBlog. Thank you for joining me, Helen! I loved The Summer Before the War, and Major Pettigrew is now on my ‘to-read’ list.

From a writer’s perspective, I have a few questions I’m dying to ask you, especially because our writing processes are apparently so different. In your videotaped presentation, you mentioned, “I don’t write what I know—I write to ask questions and explore them and hope to find some answers for myself.” The historical setting for your characters required painstaking research, yet an intuitive knowledge of human nature and social interaction underlies your characterizations. Do you feel that you write what you “know” on an emotional or personal level?

I try to write about the characters in my head and they seem to be real people to me.  What is funny is that on an emotional level I can see that I am using my characters to work out things that puzzle me about the world and about how we treat each other. Social comedy as moral philosophy?  I do also have great fun slipping in small personal details—like my grandfather’s name or a house I’d like to own in Sussex—but I am not writing autobiographically. I think books are wonderful because they allow us to travel to places we cannot go.  Writing a book is no different; every page is a new adventure for me.

You also mentioned that you don’t write an outline of the story first but create the characters and let them lead you where they want to go. Did you have a broad sense of the plot when you started out, or was this story a complete adventure of discovery along the way?

Simply following the characters around is a frightening way to write a work as long as a novel.  But now I’m in the midst of a third novel I have no idea where I’m going—again!  With The Summer Before the War, I knew World War I was coming but I did not know how we were going to go there.  It was a great relief to realize my surgeon, Hugh, would go and I could simply follow him to the hospitals and trenches of the Western Front.  I don’t recommend my way of writing but it forces one to noodle about, leaving room for literary themes to arise and be explored.  If I had a plot outline I’m afraid I might rush along too fast.

I wonder if you can place yourself in Beatrice’s shoes and imagine what it might have been like to face the prejudice against female writers, as depicted by the character Mr. Tillingham and the publisher that rejected her project. Given your evident talent and love of writing, do you think you would have been daunted in such an environment or would have persevered?

The more I wrote about Beatrice the more I wondered if we have really come as far as we thought in terms of women being free and equal.  The pay gap and the #metoo movement suggest we are still fighting for basic respect.  I would have been daunted then and I’m still daunted now.  No writer I know has escaped rejection, and since writing is an act of great vulnerability it can be very painful.  It was not hard to imagine Beatrice’s hurt.  Just the term ‘female writer’ carries its own put-down.  I was thrilled to discover, in taking intermediate French conversation lessons recently, that the French word for writer doesn’t carry a pronoun.  There is no ‘le’ or ‘la’ so in French I am fully a writer—Je suis écrivain.  It feels good!

And it feels good to read your work! Thank you for this insight into your writing, Helen. We look forward to your next novel!

White Plains: Book Review and Conversation with Author David Hicks

Posted on by - Book review, Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors, Literary fiction

“When it comes right down to it, I’ve decided, almost every relationship involves two people with intense insecurities masked by whatever behavior it takes to keep those insecurities from being exposed, while at the same time revealing their equally desperate need to have them exposed, even embraced.” – from White Plains

White Plains by David HicksI’m pleased to welcome David Hicks to VBlog for this installment of Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors. His debut novel White Plains is the story of a young man’s search for himself. We first meet the protagonist, Flynn Hawkins, when he’s twenty-two, a graduate student and teaching assistant in the English department of a fictional New York college. In the final chapter, we see Flynn at age forty, just beginning to internalize some valuable life lessons. He has taken a big step closer to self-knowledge, openness, and honesty with himself and others, but he still has a distance to travel.

Flynn’s journey is told in a series of connected stories from different viewpoints. As a fan and writer of short fiction, I relished each chapter as a standalone piece of great writing. Many of the chapters were previously published in literary journals. Most are told from Flynn’s viewpoint, in first person or third person, and several others are told by the people in Flynn’s life: a professor, a close male friend, a high school coach, Flynn’s sister, wife, son, and daughter. This technique renders the most fully-drawn character I’ve seen anywhere.

The stark contrast between Flynn’s perception of himself and how others see him is a variation on a theme that intrigues me and is woven into my courtroom fiction: what is truth or reality but a set of widely varying, subjective points of view? At a criminal trial, ten witnesses will describe the same event ten ways, often inconsistently. In the context of personal relationships, the inability to appreciate the impact of one’s behavior on others can be self-destructive. Flynn’s story, as told from different viewpoints, serves as a wake-up call for the need to step outside oneself as a means of self-examination.

What did I think of Flynn? I flip-flopped between loving and hating him, losing all respect for him and regaining it. He tries so hard that I wish him well. I don’t count my wildly shifting feelings for him as a detraction from the quality of the read. Quite the contrary. This book draws you in. There’s intensity, wit, depth, tenderness, and beauty in the prose. The good and the bad—that’s what makes a complete person. Throughout Flynn’s journey, dear reader, you are going to feel a lot of emotion, and that’s the stuff of great fiction.

I enjoyed this book right through to the last paragraph of the afterword. The author acknowledges his family for co-authoring the story of his life, “which, thanks mainly to them…, seems to be building towards a happy ending. May it, like the final chapter of this book, be just a tad too long.” The last chapter of the book may be the longest, but for me, it was the best. After all the ups and downs, I was glad to see, at last, that Flynn made some real progress in his quest for self-actualization. The people in his life are going to start feeling a whole lot better about him too.

And now, I’m happy to welcome David Hicks to VBlog. Thank you for joining me!

It’s my pleasure! A big hello to all your readers.author David Hicks

White Plains is a resonant work of art. Tell us about its conception and your process. Did the project start as a single short story that begged to be expanded, or did you plan a novel in the form of linked short stories from the start?

Neither! I was just going about my business as a short story writer, publishing in some wonderful literary magazines, when I decided I had enough stories for a collection. Most of my published stories are somewhat autobiographical—I tend to write about times in my life when something shifted for me—and while I was at an artists’ residency in Wyoming I made it my goal to put the stories together in book form. I tried out different arrangements, but it was when I experimented with putting the stories in chronological order (not according to their publication dates but according to the main character’s life) that I realized it could be a novel instead of a collection—there was, in other words, an overall conflict, crisis, and resolution to the whole book. But since it wasn’t written as a novel, I now needed to revise it as a novel, and that meant “filling in the gaps” of the overall narrative. I did that by adding chapters from other characters’ points of view. (I got that idea from a wonderful book called The Last to Go by Rand Richards Cooper.) After that, it felt more like a novel, and I felt justified pitching it as such.

Some of the chapters from Flynn’s point of view are written in first person and some are written in third person. How did you decide which to use?

As a general rule, when I write something that’s a little too autobiographical, I write in third person. It gives me a little distance from myself. I am able to say, “Wow, look at you, what the hell were you thinking when you did that?” And it also helps me to craft my real-life event as a story rather than emotionally “dumping” onto the page. And when it’s not very autobiographical, I narrate in first person, to force myself into a more intimate voice. It also depends on the situation: for example, the chapter that shows when everything changes for young Flynn—when he’s living in Manhattan during 9/11—was originally written in second person (my editor advised me to change it to third person), because it evokes the kind of shell-shocked feeling that seems appropriate for the subject matter.

Do you consider Flynn a reliable narrator? Tell us about your decision to incorporate other voices.

Absolutely not—he’s completely unreliable, especially at first. (Towards the end, he becomes more reliable.) Isn’t that how we all are? And that’s what we like; we like hearing unreliable accounts of events from our friends and family. (How many of us, when hearing a friend’s story of an argument with their spouse or a terrible boss, actively set about contacting the spouse or boss to get a fair version of the story?) It’s the same when we read. Think of Nick Carroway in The Great Gatsby (who has very little idea what has really happened during key scenes), or Dostoevsky’s narrator in Notes from Underground (who’s view of himself and others is irreparably distorted)—we enjoy it when narrators “tell the truth but tell it slant.”

One of my favorite chapters, a very suspenseful one, involves Flynn driving through a snowstorm and getting stranded in the Colorado Rockies. Did you have a similar experience that informed this scene?

That’s a good example of what I was talking about earlier: I wrote that story in third person because it’s almost one hundred percent autobiographical. For two years I lived in one of the most beautiful places in the country, but it’s also quite remote. I got a teaching job over four hours away and proceeded to “commute” there via an isolated route that traversed several mountain passes. I had no money (I was giving my ex-wife the bulk of my paycheck for child support), so I was driving on bald tires, and one week we got some serious snow and I almost died, both on the way there and on the way back. But at my worst moment, stranded in my car in a snowbank, I stepped out at four a.m. and witnessed a spectacular meteor shower in the clear night sky. And after that, I knew what I needed to do.

Do you have another novel planned or in the works?

I’m currently finishing a novel called The Gospel According to Danny, about the death of America as told by a waiter in Yonkers. It’s quite different from White Plains in that it’s a long, linear narrative with many dramatic events. I’m in love with it, but it’s been a very difficult novel to write, so I can’t wait to send it off to my agent.

Thank you for these illuminating insights, David!

Dear reader, to learn more about David Hicks and White Plains, visit his website by clicking here. To pick up a copy of White Plains, click here.

Lenin’s Harem: Book review, conversation with William Burton McCormick, and reflections on my Latvian heritage

Posted on by - Book review, Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors

For this installment of Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors, I welcome William Burton McCormick to VBlog. McCormick writes suspenseful historical fiction of considerable depth and intelligence in beautiful prose. His works should be on your “To Read” list!

I was first introduced to Bill McCormick’s fiction when we shared the pages of EQMM’s August 2016 issue, which included my story, “Journal Entry, Franklin DeWitt,” about a Soviet ballerina who defected during the Cold War. McCormick’s story, “Voices in the Cistern,” takes us back to ancient times, 50 A.D., where a war is raging in the city of Chersonesus between the Romans and the Scythians. The setting for this edge-of-your-seat tale of thievery and murder is a most unusual place, inside a great, underground cistern containing the city’s water supply. I loved the voice and pace of this story and was impressed by the author’s handling of my favorite theme in fiction: moral dilemma. In my legal thrillers, prosecutor Dana Hargrove is often faced with impossible choices between her personal life and professional ethics. You won’t want to miss the moral dilemma McCormick poses at the end of “Voices in the Cistern”—it’s a real whopper!

McCormick chooses historical settings for his fiction, and his work is meticulously researched. He holds a degree in ancient studies from Brown University, an MA in novel writing from the University of Manchester, and has lived abroad for many years, experiencing firsthand the countries and cultures in his fiction. Here lies another reason I was compelled to read more of his work. A personal reason. McCormick has lived in Latvia for several years and has studied Latvian history extensively.

My late father, Gunārs Ķēmanis, was a Latvian WWII refugee. He lived in a displaced persons camp in Germany from 1944 to 1949 and emigrated to the United States, where he met and married my mother and became a successful engineer. His gratitude to the U.S. was manifested by his complete Americanization; he did not speak Latvian at home, and did not observe Latvian traditions or holidays. In retrospect, I believe this was a coping mechanism for wartime trauma—even after Latvia regained its independence in 1990, my father did not want to visit because of lasting bitterness over the Soviet occupation. Our family name was Americanized, removing the diacritical marks and changing the spoken emphasis from the first syllable to the middle syllable, and my surname did not take on the feminine declension. (In Latvia, it would be written this way: Ķēmane). Conversations with my father and late aunt gave me secondhand knowledge of the Latvian wartime experience, some of which is woven into the stories “My Latvian Aunt” and “Stolen Afternoon” in my collection Dust of the Universe. I’ve also included a second-generation Latvian in my upcoming novel, the fourth Dana Hargrove legal mystery.

McCormick’s short story “Blue Amber,” set in 1910, and his novel Lenin’s Harem, spanning 1905-1941, are works incorporating Latvian history and characters. “Blue Amber” was a Derringer Award finalist in the category of long story. Here, the author pits the protagonist, a Latvian political prisoner, against impossible odds, likely death in either of two ways: at the hand of his Russian captors or in an escape attempt through the frigid waters of the Baltic Sea. This compelling and suspenseful tale kept me turning the pages.

McCormick’s novel Lenin’s Harem vividly portrays the traumatic events spanning the years from the first Russian Revolution in 1905 through WWI, and the Latvian declaration of independence in 1918 through the first Soviet occupation of Latvia at the beginning of WWII. The story is told from the point of view of Wiktor Rooks, a Baltic-German from a wealthy aristocratic family. The action starts with a Latvian uprising against the landowners when Wiktor is a young boy. His family loses the estate. Wiktor becomes a career soldier and ultimately joins the Red Latvian Riflemen, nicknamed “Lenin’s Harem.” As the novel progresses, Wiktor finds more distance from his aristocratic roots, loses his prejudices as he forms personal relationships with Latvians in his regiment, and falls in love with a Latvian woman, Kaiva, who believes in communism. The novel contains impressive insights into relationships that are fraught with conflicting societal and political tensions. One of my favorite scenes is the dinner party where Wiktor introduces his fiancée Kaiva to the family. All is going reasonably well, the family almost accepts her, when a family member mentions that he has petitioned the League of Nations for the return of the family’s land, “illegally seized” by the Latvian government. Idealistic Kaiva innocently professes puzzlement: “Your life seems more than comfortable. Why do you need more?” She observes that their land, which once supported a single family, now supports several Latvian families: “It’s simply a better use of the land.” Who could argue with that? Well, the insult is ultimately tempered somewhat when Kaiva is asked to consider how she felt when she was thrown from her home and became a refugee, causing her to admit that the loss of home is traumatic, no matter what the reason.

If you enjoy historical fiction, tales of war and revolution, political intrigue, psychological suspense, action, family saga, or any of the above, you’ll find it all in Lenin’s Harem, along with a tender love story, all packaged in beautiful prose.

And now, I’ll let Bill McCormick tell us what went into the creation of this superb novel.

Welcome to VBlog, Bill! I find it fascinating that you have chosen to live abroad for years at a time to write historical fiction about the countries you are experiencing firsthand. What led you to make such a dramatic life choice, and what led you to choose Latvia, in particular?

I have always wanted to travel, and I have always wanted a creative occupation. I’m sure those aren’t unusual traits in a writer. Merging them was always a long-term goal for how I wanted to live my life.

Bill at the monument to the Red Latvian Riflemen

As for my interest in Latvia, I was living in Alexandria, Virginia at the time and working on an outline for a sort of generic spy thriller I had dreamed up. In researching a setting for this story, I went to the Latvian Museum in Rockville, Maryland, and bought several books on Latvian history. I was moved about what I learned. I had little knowledge of the cruel events that occurred there. Because of the World Wars, Russian Revolution, Russian Civil War, Holocaust, Soviet deportations to the Gulag, and the exodus of the Baltic-Germans, Latvia lost more than a quarter of its population during the first half of the twentieth century. And I found tragic irony in the story of the Red Latvian Riflemen, who rescued the Bolsheviks time-and-time again and were key in the formation of the Red Army, only to be murdered by Stalin in his purges. After reading this, I ripped up my plan for a spy thriller and decided to write a serious historical novel. At the time, there was little information available on the internet on this era in Latvian history, and what was available was usually in Russian with a decidedly Soviet perspective. So, with a detour through Manchester, England to learn the writing craft, I moved to Latvia. I did not want to depend on third or fourth-hand sources. I wanted total immersion to see the places, the culture, and do the research myself. I arrived in Rīga, knowing no one, without a job, apartment, or command of the language, but determined to write a book that would illustrate to the English-speaking world what happened in Latvia in the twentieth century. I worked with historians, museums, archivists, and interviewed survivors and family members of some of the later events. It quickly went from a novel to a very personal experience. I have since lived in Russia, Estonia and Ukraine, but Latvia, and Rīga in particular, is still the place I think of as home outside of the United States.

I was surprised by the reception the novel received from the Latvian community. I spoke about the book and the history behind it at the Latvian Embassy to the United States in January of 2013. The Latvian Museum, where it all started for me, was kind enough to host a book event. Zvaigzne ABC, Latvia’s largest publisher, published a Latvian-language edition which did quite well, and the book was included in the permanent library of the Latvian War Museum in Rīga. As a foreigner, writing about the history of another nation, I continue to be amazed at the book’s acceptance. It’s still the thing I’m most proud of in my career.

The novel also was well-received in the English-speaking world. Former Senate Majority Leader, Harry Reid of Nevada, sent me a note saying he enjoyed Lenin’s Harem so much he read it twice. Gregg Popovich, head coach of the San Antonio Spurs, liked it enough to send me a bottle of wine. Good word from all quarters.

Lenin’s Harem spans the years from 1905 through 1941. During this period, like many in its history, Latvia was a pawn in an endless struggle for control by Germany and Russia. The protagonist of the novel is Wiktor Rooks, a Baltic-German who grew up in a wealthy family that owned land in present-day Latvia, worked by Latvian servants. What led to your decision to tell this story from the point of view of a Baltic-German rather than a Latvian or a Russian?

When writing Lenin’s Harem, I was aware that my readership would likely be unfamiliar with Latvian history, culture and their way of life in the early twentieth century. By creating a protagonist who is an outsider to that society, it allowed me more naturally to explain things to the audience within the narrative. As I too was an outsider, Wiktor’s discoveries and observations could to some degree mirror my own. Or contrast my own in interesting ways. And, of course, as a wealthy Baltic-German, the character is right in the middle of all the conflicts of nation, ethnicity, and class, as society radically changes during the upheavals of the era.

The characters are tugged in many directions by conflicting forces: social, nationalist, political, ethnic, familial. There’s also just plain survival at work, the need to adapt to the current regime. Rooks is Baltic-German, yet he ends up fighting for the Russians and falling in love with a Latvian woman, Kaiva, who believes in communism. For a modern-day reader from a stable country like the United States, it may be difficult to imagine why a Baltic-German would end up fighting for the Russians. Can you comment on some of these conflicts?

Historically many Baltic-Germans living within the Russian Empire were officers in the Tsar’s army. The first sons of aristocratic families managed the estates, but the second and later sons needed something to do. It was common for this class to end up as professional soldiers. But, during the World Wars, of course, this meant fighting other Germans. So, here we have an interesting conflict for Wiktor, one that creates mistrust with both the Russians and the Latvians. And then when the Bolshevik Revolution occurs, with its intrinsic class warfare, Wiktor’s aristocratic past puts him in even greater peril. There was a lot I could do with such a character. Wiktor begins the novel with the racist and classist views common to wealthy landowners of the time. But as the novel progresses, those prejudices fall away as he meets new people and experiences tragedy and triumph in the company of other economic and ethnic groups, particularly the Latvian soldiers he learns to survive with. By the middle of the novel his love for the revolutionary Kaiva is plausible. His character arc happens in logical steps, taking Wiktor into worlds he could never have imagined at the beginning of Lenin’s Harem. I think this is what makes him a compelling character.

The novel takes us through the beginning of World War II, during the Soviet occupation and the so-called “Night of Terror,” June 14, 1941, when the Soviets deported thousands of Latvians. In the ending scenes, the Soviets are retreating again, on the eve of a new period of German occupation, 1941-1944, and the future of the protagonists is left to the imagination. I love the ending of the book, the combination of hope and self-determination threatened by a grim reality. Are you planning a sequel to let us know how Wiktor and Kaiva fared? What is your current project?

 I have very rough drafts of two more novels that extend the story through days of the Forest Brothers who resisted the Soviet occupation in the Kurzeme and Latgale regions of Latvia until the early 1950s. I hope to revise those at some point. There is more to tell of Kaiva and Wiktor, but for now, the ambiguous nature of their fate gives Lenin’s Harem an appropriately uncertain ending for what were definitely uncertain times.

I am currently finishing a modern thriller set predominantly in Latvia called KGB Banker, co-written with John Christmas. John is a very brave man, a whistleblower against the Russian mob in Latvia and elsewhere. Many of his experiences have inspired our story of a Latvian-American banker who takes a job in Rīga, only to find himself embroiled in murder and an international conspiracy to destroy the Western economy and re-establish the borders of the Soviet Union. High octane stuff.

One of the key characters in KGB Banker is a Latvian journalist named Santa Ezeriņa. Santa is a popular character of mine, having appeared in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Over My Dead Body, and the story “Matricide & Ice Cream” which is about to be published in the United Kingdom in the CWA Anthology of Short Stories: Mystery Tour by Orenda Books. People are always trying to kill poor Santa but can never quite do it. She’s a damn tough heroine. I’m looking forward to having Santa in her first full-length novel.

After KGB Banker is finished, former U.S. Senator Harry Reid and I are planning to write a true crime western set in our mutual home state of Nevada. That ought to keep me busy through 2020 or so.

We look forward to your next novel, Bill! Thank you for this insight into your work and Latvian history.

 NOW, dear reader, where can you get Lenin’s Harem and short stories by William Burton McCormick? Click the links! Lenin’s Harem (ebook) (hardcover); Ļeņina harems (ebook in Latvian) (print book in Latvian); Blue Amber (ebook); August 2016 issue of EQMM; upcoming CWA Anthology of Short Stories: Mystery Tour; Santa Ezeriņa story “Hagiophobia” in AHMM.

To the Bright Edge of the World: Book Review and Conversation with Eowyn Ivey

Posted on by - Book review, Fiction Favorites & Awesome Authors

My next Dana Hargrove novel (coming January 2018!) has kept me from posting recently, but I just HAVE to take the time to share with you my latest exciting read: To the Bright Edge of the World. Let this be the kickoff to a new series on VBlog, devoted to my favorite authors of literary fiction. Eowyn Ivey is at the top of the list.

Eowyn (pronounced A-o-win) LeMay Ivey was raised in Alaska and continues to live there with her husband and two daughters. Her mother named her after a character from J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings! Her debut novel, The Snow Child, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize and became an international bestseller. Inspired by a traditional fairytale, the novel tells the story of Alaskan homesteaders in 1920. Here is an excerpt from my review in 2013:

The Snow Child effortlessly skates the line between realism and magic in beautiful, simple prose… Most surprising is the intense suspense created by the comings and goings of the snow maiden. She is the personification of a beautiful but ever-changing wilderness, and like the main characters in the novel, we want her to remain with us while constantly fearing the moment when she will be gone.

Once again, the inscrutable Alaskan wilderness is the setting (or, perhaps, the main character?) in Ivey’s second novel, published a year ago. Set in 1885, To the Bright Edge of the World tells the story of a reconnaissance into the heart of Alaska along the fictional Wolverine River. The small party of five, led by Lieutenant Colonel Allen Forrester, is tasked with exploring the territory recently purchased from Russia. Historically based, yet entirely fictional, the novel comprises an assemblage of journal entries, letters, excerpts from books, photographs, and artifacts. This structure gives the novel the feel of nonfiction and adds elements of mystery and suspense. We are carried along with Forrester and discover Alaska for ourselves with each new adventure.

One such fictional letter is a directive from an Assistant Adjutant General to Forrester at the start of the mission: “The objective is to map the interior of the Territory and document information regarding the native tribes in order to be prepared for any future serious disturbances between the United States government and the natives of the Territory.” The arrogance in this missive is chilling, a foreshadowing of the ultimate disruption to the habitat, health, and customs of the indigenous people. Why would the U.S. ever need to be “prepared for any future serious disturbances” unless a military incursion was deemed a matter of right? Here, Ivey lays the groundwork for one of the underlying themes in her book, a juxtaposition of the cold official purpose of the mission and the humanity the explorers show during their contacts with native tribesmen.

As Forrester’s party trudges through ice canyons of terrifying beauty, encountering setbacks, privation, sickness, and near starvation, the lines increasingly blur between man and beast, perception and reality, the corporeal and the mystical. These slender divisions: are they magic or the products of hallucination, brought on by hunger, exposure, and suggestion?

“They believe it is a thin line separates animal and man,” Samuelson the trapper says about the natives. “They hold that some can walk back and forth over that line, here a man, there a beast.” Forrester encounters an elderly Eyak man who is impossibly ubiquitous, always arriving ahead of the party at their next camp. He’s known as “The Man Who Flies on Black Wings.” When Forrester tells a Midnoosky chief that he is “not accustomed to believing in mountain spirits or men who can fly,” the chief’s response is indisputably logical. Isn’t it true that “your people catch light on paper so that you can see something that happened a long time ago,” and you have “wooden boxes that sing”? Today, with our handheld rectangles of plastic and metal, we instantly transport our voices and images around the world. We are, indeed, everywhere at once, living in the age of magic.

Bright Edge has everything you could want in a novel: adventure, history, danger, mysticism, romance, thrills, terror, supernatural phenomena, and suspense. The characters are multi-dimensional and well-drawn, people you will come to care about. There is even a deep love story in the relationship between Forrester and his wife, Sophie, who waits at the military camp in Vancouver for his return. From afar, Sophie is touched by a few inexplicable phenomena, forging a mystical connection with her husband. Pick up this book, and you too will feel the magic of Alaska. As a great side benefit, thoughts of icebergs are a good way to beat the summer heat. Yesterday, it was 93 degrees in New York!

This fabulous author has graciously agreed to answer a few questions I’ve been dying to ask! Welcome to my blog, Eowyn. I’m so pleased you could join me.

The powerful and dramatic landscape of Alaska figures prominently in your novels. In some of your interviews, you’ve said that you’ve always been trying to understand the state you call your home. Has your writing brought you closer to that understanding?

In ways, yes. I’ve always been perplexed by my love of Alaska because even though it is beautiful and majestic, it also has a lot of darkness and brutality. If I can see all of that clearly, how can I still be so attached to it and be sure I don’t want to live anywhere else? But through the writing process, I’ve come to suspect that is the nature of love. In order to love someone or something with honesty, beyond just the postcard image, maybe I have to know all its flaws and terrors. So I feel like I’m making peace with some element of that. At the same time, Alaska’s past and present is complex, like any place I suppose, so I don’t feel as if I’ve got it all neatly buttoned up. I’ve still got some questions to work with as a writer.

Bright Edge taps into the irresistible, vicarious thrill of joining an expedition into unknown, dangerous terrain, an adventure rooted in historical fact, yet almost beyond the bounds of imagination for most of us today. Your writing captures the feeling of wonder, awe, and fear inspired by the vast and terrifying landscape. Have you had personal experiences in Alaska, in the wilderness, where the magnitude of the environment was overwhelming or you felt at the mercy of nature?

First off, thank you so much for that. One of my main aspirations with the novel was to allow readers to experience the adventure for themselves as much as possible, so I’m so thrilled at your response. And absolutely, even after spending my entire life in Alaska, I continue to be overwhelmed and in awe of the wilderness. This touches on the previous question, about my conflicting emotions about Alaska, because it can be simultaneously magnificent and terrifying. I’ve had the more stereotypical encounters—being charged by a grizzly bear, watching the northern lights on a winter night, sleeping in a remote cabin when it’s 40 below zero outside. But more often the moments are unexpected, like when I’m picking wild blueberries on a mountainside and I stop to stretch my back and realize that as far as I can see in any direction there is not another human being, only mountains and tundra and rivers. It’s a bracing, humbling sensation.

One of my favorite parts of the book is a “written record” of an interview between a Midnoosky chief and Colonel Forrester, who desperately needs advice on the best route to take through the unmapped, treacherous mountains. With each question Forrester asks, the chief is more baffled by his motivations. I was struck by the depth of your insight into the cultural differences and assumptions of these two people—their conversation is also quite funny! Can you comment on the source of your idea for this section and whether it is based on research or knowledge of Midnoosky culture.

That’s wonderful that you saw the humor in that section! Writing funny scenes doesn’t come naturally to me, and I worry I’m too subtle sometimes. But I was hoping to capture some of the miscommunication and cultural disconnect that would be inevitable in a situation like that. I did a ton of research over the years as I was working on Bright Edge —I have shelves and shelves of books, both academic and primary source material about the indigenous people of South Central Alaska, including historic interactions similar to this. But the challenge for me, and the thrill, was to then let all that research slide into the background and allow my characters to interact on their own and be themselves on the page.

At various points in the book, the lives of Forrester and his men are saved by the natives, and in his diaries, Forrester seems to regard them with respect and compassion. This contrasts starkly with his official report to his military commander, in which he coldly gives advice on the “feasible means of bringing a military force into the country” and how best to “control” the Indians “in the event of conflict,” by restricting their access to the food supply to “ensure their quick obedience.” What are your thoughts on this dichotomy?

Again, I so appreciate your close attention to the text. I’m not sure all readers pick up on that conflict, and it was an important aspect of the novel for me. During my research, I read countless military reports and historic documents that would simultaneously express gratitude or admiration for indigenous people even as they set out plans to suppress them. It was naive of me, but at first I was really shocked by some of it. But then I began to see just how commonplace it was, and unfortunately in some cases, continues to be. Some of that history can be blamed on institutional racism—the gears are in motion and an individual feels powerless to stop it. What really surprised me, however, is how often I would be reading a firsthand narrative or journal and the person seems to be intelligent and goodhearted in many ways, but then he or she expresses some really hateful and racist view. None of it fell under the convenient labels of villain versus hero. That was something I took away from my research—people are complex and conflicted and inconsistent, and I wanted to allow that to come through in the novel.

Are you currently working on your next novel?

I have some ideas swirling around, but I haven’t really sat down with them seriously. Winter in Alaska is always a better time for me to focus on writing. Thank you for asking! And thank you again for your insightful questions.

We look forward to whatever you have to offer next!

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If you’d like to read more about Eowyn Ivey, take a look at her website and these past interviews on other sites: Writers & Books, The Guardian, Publishers Weekly, For Winter Nights.