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Through her popular historical novels, bestselling author Chanel Cleeton offers a fresh glimpse into Cuba’s tumultuous past. Her latest, The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba, is set on the eve of the Spanish-American War, as the island country is ravaged by conflict between Cuban revolutionaries and the Spanish military.

The story unfolds through the eyes of three women: Evangelina Cisneros, a beautiful socialite who finds herself in the infamous Recogidas prison after rebuffing the advances of a Spanish military official; Marina Perez, who along with her husband is aiding the revolutionaries while living in deplorable conditions at a reconcentration camp; and Grace Harrington, a cub reporter trying to make her mark at William Randolph Hearst’s New York newspaper.

The women all come from wealthy families yet have chosen their own paths as they seek more than the comfort provided by their privilege. This is a recurring theme in Cleeton’s work: women turning their lives upside down to fight for what they believe in. For Evangelina and Marina, they’re fighting for the dream of a liberated Cuba. For Grace, it’s a career as a serious journalist in an era when few women (aside from Nellie Bly and Ida B. Wells) could imagine working for a newspaper. Their fates intersect when Hearst places Grace on the Cuba beat, reporting from the front lines.

The heart of The Most Beautiful Girl in Cuba is ostensibly Evangelina, who is the title character and based on a real person. And indeed, her story is fascinating. She was briefly the most famous woman in New York after a daring rescue landed her stateside to advocate for Cuban independence. But Cleeton’s examination of the state of journalism at the turn of the century is an equally compelling part of this engrossing book. The battle of Hearst versus Joseph Pulitzer for the biggest circulation is fascinating. Both of their newspapers used the discord in Cuba to bolster their sales and arguably influenced the conflict more than was appropriate for a supposedly neutral press.

Cleeton delivers a sweeping story of love and courage, as well as a sobering reminder of the power and responsibility of the media.

Chanel Cleeton delivers a sweeping story of love and courage, as well as a sobering reminder of the power and responsibility of the media.

Maggie Shipstead often finds herself in far-flung places such as Italy, Romania, the Himalayas, Antarctica and the South Pacific. Sometimes she goes just for fun, but often it’s in service of her work as a travel writer and novelist. She’s especially drawn to desolate landscapes and polar regions, though she admits that getting there poses a bit of an ethical concern. “You have to burn a lot of carbon,” the author says, “but I do think when people see [these places], they better understand [their] fragility and importance.”

Shipstead Greenland Ice Sheet photo
Shipstead on the Greeland ice sheet

But when we speak on the phone about her latest novel, Great Circle, she’s at home in California, her dog Gus sitting attentively by her side as she reorganizes a giant pile of books: a pandemic project. Like most of us, the bestselling author has been grounded for the last year or so, with any adventures taking place on a TV screen, in the pages of a book or in the landscape of the mind.

The good news is that Great Circle is anything but earthbound. Instead, fearless aviator Marian Graves takes readers high into the sky over the course of decades, culminating in an attempt to fly around the globe by way of the North and South poles. Over the course of her eventful life, she soars above mountains and rivers, navigating her way through personal triumphs, tragedies and treacherously opaque clouds. Every choice she makes is in pursuit of independence, seeking freedom from oppressive sexism, from the pain of World War II, from a world that tries to dictate her identity.

“I’m so happy in my little hidey-hole; why am I going to the Canadian High Arctic?”

“A life is inherently epic, and Marian’s life is epic in a more tangible way,” Shipstead says of her brilliant and intrepid pilot. Marian’s story is indeed rife with the thrill of discovery, the drama of making one’s way in a hostile world and the poignancy of loving someone without the guarantee of forever. It’s also something of a mystery, as readers learn early on that, like Amelia Earhart, obscurity and supposition surround Marian’s final flight. As Shipstead explains, disappearance and death are perceived very differently, “even though they’re often the same thing.”

Capturing and creating Marian’s life took several years, as Shipstead conducted extensive research on everything from 1920s bootlegging air routes to what it’s like to camp on an Antarctic glacier. She traveled to many of the novel’s key locations and even spent 30 seconds at the controls of a small plane. “I did not enjoy it.”


ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our starred review of Great Circle.


Great Circle was a massive undertaking: The first draft was 980 pages, comprising 300,000 words and printed on two reams of paper. Shipstead explains that her first two novels, 2012’s Seating Arrangements and 2014’s Astonish Me, were both “short stories that I tried to revise, and instead they blorped out into books. This was the first time I was like, all right, I’m starting a novel.”

Shipstead points to “a very identifiable moment” that led her to write Great Circle. At New Zealand’s Auckland Airport, she noticed a bronze statue of aviator Jean Batten, who in 1936 became the first person to fly solo from London to New Zealand. Its plaque includes a quotation from Batten—“I was destined to be a wanderer”—which inspired the novel’s opening line.

“I was at the airport feeling this bittersweet sense of failure about a project that had abandoned me,” Shipstead says, “and I was very open to some sort of spark of an idea. I’d also just had this adventurous time, was interested in adventurous lives, and it all fell into place.”

Shipstead with elephant seal image
Shipstead with an elephant seal in New Zealand’s subantarctic Macquarie Island

The final version of Great Circle unspools across more than 600 pages, and this expansiveness allows other richly realized characters to tell their stories, too—in particular, Marian’s twin, Jamie, and childhood friend Caleb. In a shorter book, these characters would be merely tantalizing, introduced and then banished, victims of a restrictive page count. But in Great Circle, their inner worlds add context and reveal Marian’s far-reaching impact, for better or worse.

The unspoken and undocumented parts of a historical figure’s life can create an irresistible aura of mystery for the people who, generations later, seek to understand them—especially when the figure did nearly impossible things, edging up to death or even falling over that particular cliff. Marian’s story is interspersed with scenes from 2014, when Hadley Baxter is preparing to play the aviator in an upcoming movie. The gig seems like just the thing to redirect Hadley’s career after many years as the star of a blockbuster film franchise. Ravenous press, Harvey Weinstein-esque executives and demanding fans have taken a toll as well. “They scraped away at us, made us into something ransacked and empty,” Hadley muses.

But Hadley’s celebrity allows her to grasp one of the novel’s core tenets: the truth of a life. “She knows intuitively that no one can know the truth except you, and you barely know it,” Shipstead says. “One of the purposes of her narrative was showing the game of telephone that happens, even with someone who leaves behind clues to their life.”

Hadley’s interest in Marian grows into fascination as the aviator becomes less of a role and more of a role model. And as Marian’s storyline progresses, the reader is drawn ever closer to her final flight, suffusing Great Circle with a delicious inherent tension.

“What is the magnitude of one life? And what is the scale of one life versus the scale of this planet we live on?”

“Part of what motivated me [in writing the novel] was something Marian didn’t totally understand until she embarked on this flight,” Shipstead says. “By completing a circle, in a way you’re also rendering it futile. You finish it, and you’re back where you started, and it’s also stretching out in front of you all over again. . . . Now what?”

That pull toward a huge goal, that desire that informs a lifetime of choices, is something that intrigues Shipstead. It’s a thread that runs throughout her novel, looping around various characters and drawing them toward things that are thrilling but not always advisable. “In some ways,” she says, “there’s this ambient confusion around why we do things. It’s kind of an animating life force.” She doesn’t profess to know what’s at the heart of such an impulse, so in order to write the book, she had to accept that she’d never be able to pin it down.

Shipstead Svalbard photo
Shipstead in Svalbard, Norway

“It’s funny, because in all accounts of early female pilots that I read, the vast majority—and I’m sure it’s the same thing for men—just seemed to know that [flying] is something they had to do,” Shipstead says. “While I don’t connect with wanting to fly planes, I do connect with it in terms of travel. With every trip, I dread going, in a way. I’m so happy in my little hidey-hole; why am I going to the Canadian High Arctic? But I still feel compelled to go, and I’m always glad that I go, and of course it irreversibly changes me.”

Such impossible questions are essential to Great Circle and build to a central preoccupation: “What is the magnitude of one life? And what is the scale of one life versus the scale of this planet we live on? How much can you pack into a life, and what do you choose to make your life about?” Shipstead says, “It’s all of these questions.”

Once readers have finished Great Circle and emerged from their own hidey-holes, blinking up at the sky and imagining Marian flying above, they’ll be glad to know that Shipstead has a short story collection planned for 2022. And when it’s safe to travel, she’ll be heading off to another faraway snowy landscape: Alaska. And so the circle continues.

All photos courtesy of the author

Maggie Shipstead’s exceptional third novel, Great Circle, was a vast undertaking—but the round-the-globe flight of her aviator protagonist is even more daunting.

From age 13, Marian Graves is determined to fly. “Her belief that she would fly saturated her world, presented an appearance of absolute truth,” Maggie Shipstead writes in her epic and exciting novel Great Circle. As a girl in 1920s Montana, Marian’s dream seems nigh impossible, but she bargains and sacrifices her way into procuring precious flying lessons—and so discovers an all-consuming, lifelong love of the sky.

Marian’s insatiable thirst for flight, her desire to transcend societal constraints and see as much of the world as possible, drives Great Circle. Shipstead, bestselling author of Seating Arrangements and Astonish Me, sweeps readers from earth to sky and back again, across 600-plus pages and throughout multiple eras and locales, from Prohibition-era Montana to World War II Europe to present-day Los Angeles.

Maggie Shipstead offers a marvelous pastiche that explores what it takes to live an unusual life.

Tragically, like Amelia Earhart before her, Marian goes missing—in 1950, during her attempt to fly around the world over the North and South poles. Her mysterious disappearance becomes the stuff of legend, another adventurer lost to the skies. Decades later in 2014 Hollywood, Hadley Baxter also yearns to soar. When the opportunity to play Marian in a biopic comes along, Hadley sees it as a chance to reignite her creative spark, dampened by years of squeezing herself into others’ ideas of who she should be.

As the two women’s stories unspool—rife with ambition, desire, triumph and failure—numerous other characters come to the fore with fully realized tales. The book’s level of detail is considerable and impressive, whether Shipstead is explaining airplane mechanics, describing life during wartime or otherwise layering her story over and through history. Her nonlinear storytelling creates a marvelous pastiche of adventure and emotion as she explores what it means (and what it takes) to live an unusual life.

Underpinning it all is a reverence for nature, thrumming in the forests of Montana, the jagged peaks of Alaska and the stupefying ice shelves of the Antarctic. Shipstead’s exhilarating, masterful depictions of Marian’s flights feel like shared experiences that invite readers to contemplate both magnitude and majesty. Great Circle is sure to give even firmly earthbound readers a new appreciation for those who are compelled ever skyward.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Maggie Shipstead may not want to be a pilot, but she can’t help but explore that skyward impulse.

Maggie Shipstead offers a marvelous pastiche of adventure and emotion as she explores what it means (and what it takes) to live an unusual life.
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Loosely based on true events—and the real people and animals that played a part—The Elephant of Belfast captures the turmoil of both a city and a young woman’s life during World War II.

S. Kirk Walsh’s first novel opens in 1940, just as German bombardment begins to threaten Northern Ireland. The Bellevue Zoo has welcomed a new elephant named Violet to its menagerie, parading the pachyderm through the streets of Belfast with all the pomp of a visiting dignitary. Onlookers are bewildered, but young zookeeper Hettie Quin finds a sense of purpose in the elephant’s presence.

Hettie’s older sister is dead and her father absent, and she tiptoes around the house she shares with her mother, Rose. Hettie wants to be taken seriously as the only female zookeeper at Bellevue, though navigating her terse boss and the physical demands of working with large exotic animals proves challenging. But Hettie steadily proves to herself that she is capable, even resilient, despite the nearly constant state of upheaval caused by her tense relationship with Rose, confusion about the opposite sex, the ever-present Catholic and Protestant divide and the threat of bombing raids.

When the Luftwaffe bombs start to fall in April 1941, caring for Violet becomes Hettie’s sole focus. In a time where everyone is looking for something solid to hold on to, Hettie has Violet, and their relationship keeps the young woman from falling into total despair.

With such a unique premise, the novel remains engaging despite occasionally clichéd prose and a plot that gets bogged down in detail. Hettie’s grief and longing are palpable, her mounting losses real and tangible. Through heart-stirring scenes of violence and destruction in a city unprepared for the chaos of war, Walsh showcases a flair for description and emotion, and for rendering ordinary lives amid extraordinary circumstances.

In a time where everyone is looking for something solid to hold on to, a young woman’s relationship to an elephant keeps her from falling into total despair.
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There’s plenty of Civil War fiction out there; it’s a seemingly bottomless category of novels exploring people both prominent and obscure whose lives are touched in some way by the war. But with the exception of books like Toni Morrison’s Beloved, only recently have novels about enslaved or freeborn Black people during the war and Reconstruction become prominent. With its revelatory history and fresh perspectives, Kaitlyn Greenidge’s splendid Libertie is a welcome addition to the canon.

Greenidge’s second novel (after 2016’s We Love You, Charlie Freeman) was inspired by the life of Dr. Susan Smith McKinney Steward, the first woman in New York to earn a medical degree, and by one of her children, a daughter who moved to Haiti upon her marriage. In Libertie, they’re transformed into Dr. Kathy Sampson and the titular narrator Libertie, whose incredible story is shaped by her own choices as well as other people’s designs.

The novel begins just before the war in a free Black community in Brooklyn, a borough that’s still mostly farmland. As a child, Libertie marvels at her mother’s diligence, stoicism and mystifying ability to heal. But as Libertie grows up, Greenidge masterfully details the way the girl begins to separate herself from her mother and find her own path. Libertie ventures from Brooklyn to one of the new all-Black colleges that arises after the war, then marries her mother’s kind and intelligent assistant and drops out of school. 

Libertie’s marriage leads to a rare fit of histrionics on Dr. Sampson’s part, but this negative reaction to Libertie's relocation to Haiti, a country untroubled by white rule, eventually proves justified. The Haitian scenes allow Greenidge to explore the grinding universality of patriarchy, but this is balanced by Libertie’s determination to live her best life.

Passionate and brilliantly written, Libertie shines a light on a part of history still unknown by far too many but that is now getting the finest treatment.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Kaitlyn Greenidge discusses her novel’s little-known history and the legacy of Toni Morrison, the “mother of everything.”

Passionate and brilliantly written, Kaitlyn Greenidge’s novel shines a light on a part of history still unknown by far too many.
Interview by

For the author of We Love You, Charlie Freeman, writing is as much an adventure of discovering new history as it is an act of creative expression.


The legacy of medicine, trauma, motherhood and marriage in Black American communities provides the groundwork for Kaitlyn Greenidge’s second novel, Libertie, an engrossing study of a headstrong mother and her equally headstrong daughter. Speaking by phone from Massachusetts, Greenidge discusses her novel’s deep roots in history and the literary traditions created by Toni Morrison, whom she describes as “the mother of everything.”

Libertie was inspired by the true story of Dr. Susan Smith McKinney Steward, who in 1869 became the first Black female doctor in New York. She also co-founded the Brooklyn Women’s Homeopathic Hospital and Dispensary at a time when homeopathy was considered state-of-the-art medicine. Greenidge learned about Dr. McKinney Steward and her family while working at the Weeksville Heritage Center, a historic site dedicated to a former settlement of free African Americans that flourished in the 19th century in what is now Crown Heights, Brooklyn.

“One of the most profound questions for a lot of art, and a lot of novels in particular, is how people explain [trauma] to themselves.”

In the novel, Dr. McKinney Steward is transformed into the fictional Dr. Kathy Sampson, mother of Libertie, who studies homeopathic medicine under Dr. Sampson, drops out of college and falls in love with a man who moves her to Haiti, all while seeking a sense of identity, self-preservation and liberty. 

Despite the fact that Libertie is freeborn, expectations related to race, class and gender start early, beginning with Dr. Sampson’s insistence that Libertie follow in her medical footsteps, that it’s Libertie’s duty to carry on her mother’s legacy. “All parents think that!” says Greenidge. “It’s like, ‘Oh, this person can do exactly what I did but without the mistakes.’ With Libertie you can see how she’s just like her mother but she’s not, and she’s trying to figure out how to be her own person.”


ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our starred review of Libertie.


Like Weeksville, Libertie’s hometown is inhabited and run by African Americans, but the pressure of white supremacy is unavoidable. In one scene, Black children from orphanages across the river in Manhattan are ferried to Brooklyn to escape the rampaging white mobs of the 1863 draft riots. 

In the first of many parallels to the work of Morrison, Greenidge’s novel is deeply interested in how people deal with personal and generational trauma from such events. “One of the most profound questions for a lot of art, and a lot of novels in particular, is how people explain [trauma] to themselves,” she says.

The Civil War- and Reconstruction-era setting of Libertie allowed Greenidge to investigate both the trauma of enslavement and the ingenious ways people escaped slavery. For example, she based a character from the novel’s opening scenes on a woman who used her dressmaker’s shop and funeral parlor to transport fugitive slaves on the Underground Railroad within the concealment of coffins. The freedom seekers had to pretend to be dead, but they looked good while doing it. “It’s amazing,” Greenidge says. “I can’t not include that in the novel!”

LibertieThe first of Dr. Sampson’s patients is one of these casket escapees, Mr. Ben, who avoids his traumatic past by fixating on a woman he claims left him for another man. Another of Dr. Sampson’s patients has lash wounds that refuse to heal. When Libertie leaves her small community to attend college, she meets a pair of silver-voiced singers who call themselves the Graces. They were enslaved for most of their lives but have achieved satisfying if somewhat precarious careers since becoming free. Yet they refuse to talk about their pasts.

“I wanted to give a sense of the different ways slavery would have affected people,” says Greenidge. “Trauma is different depending on your gender or your race or your social class. I wanted to explore that with Mr. Ben being a man of a different class from Libertie and her mom, how he lives and experiences what happens to him.”

Also like Morrison, Greenidge incorporates questions of colorism, or preference shown to people of color with lighter skin tones, into her narrative. She says she finds the topic uniquely fascinating for “how it affects and doesn’t affect people’s lives.” Dr. Sampson’s skin is light enough that she can pass for white, and though her hospital is open to women of all races, she’s careful not to let her darker-skinned daughter have too much contact with white patients, which Libertie comes to resent.

“How [skin color is] talked about is so dependent on where you’re from,” Greenidge says. “We pretend it’s universal, but it’s not. There’s no such thing as dark or light. People who are dark in one town are light in another because it all depends on who you’re standing next to.” Still, she admits, “it’s very painful for a lot of people.”

The Sampson women can’t escape patriarchal forces either. Even Mr. Ben disdains Dr. Sampson because he feels a woman has no business being a doctor, and the women in town only grudgingly respect her. When Libertie moves to Haiti, she’s initially optimistic about her new home in a country run by Black folks, but expectations about gender are so oppressive that when she becomes pregnant—expected to produce a son for her husband’s prominent family—she has to move into the cooking shed.

Kaitlyn Greenidge

“The rest of the world tells us so much of how we’re supposed to be, who we’re not supposed to be, punishes us for walking a line.”

Greenidge was pregnant during much of Libertie’s creation, so it’s no wonder marriage and motherhood are such prominent parts of the story. “I handed in the first draft the day I found out I was pregnant, the second draft when I went into the hospital to have [my daughter], and the final draft during the pandemic when she was about 6 months old,” Greenidge explains as her daughter shrieks happily in the background.

As a new mother and an author, Greenidge is interested in the way Black female writers experience motherhood. She describes it as liberating, not something that’s “oppressive or keeps one unhappily anchored to a way of life or even a place. For Black women, it’s a place of self-determination. The rest of the world tells us so much of how we’re supposed to be, who we’re not supposed to be, punishes us for walking a line. In motherhood, Black women have the freedom to mold our children.” She recalls reading an interview with Morrison in which “Toni talked about finding freedom in motherhood for a Black woman specifically and really enjoying motherhood. She found that motherhood expanded her understanding of the world and expanded who she was as an artist.”

As for marriage, Greenidge was intrigued by the fact that one of the first things many Black people did after emancipation was get married. Formerly enslaved people had no property to protect through matrimony but entered into the tradition anyway. “I found that so fascinating and really touching and beautiful,” she says. “It was an alternative understanding of marriage. It was about building a foundation with another person. It’s closer to how we think of marriage in more modern times.”

Both Libertie and her mother are free to marry the men they love, and Libertie’s husband even imagines a marriage of equals, though the promise of a balanced relationship soon turns sour. But when Libertie becomes pregnant, motherhood offers her the type of freedom that Morrison spoke of—freedom from others’ control over her and from the expectations of who she should become.

With its connections to a history that’s illuminated more and more each passing day, Libertie is a superb novel that informs the present and perhaps even the future.

 

Editor’s note: A previous version of this interview incorrectly stated that Greenidge was in Brooklyn during the call, not Massachusetts.

Author photos by Syreeta McFadden

The legacy of medicine, trauma, motherhood and marriage in Black American communities provides the groundwork for Kaitlyn Greenidge’s second novel, Libertie.
Review by

Julia Claiborne Johnson’s novel Better Luck Next Time (8.5 hours) is a story of love, marriage, money and heartbreak set on a “divorce ranch” during the 1930s. The tale unfolds through personal anecdotes and observations from Ward, now an elderly man but once a 24-year-old ranch hand who was strong, handsome and ready to get into trouble.

With a background in TV, film and Broadway, actor David Aaron Baker lends an easy, personable voice to Ward’s narration, capturing the character’s charisma with a slight Southern twang. Often thoughtful and sometimes mischievous, Baker’s voice brings the story to life with a sense of warmth and nostalgia, like a charming older man recounting his memories of when he was an equally charming younger man.

Listening to Better Luck Next Time feels like hearing someone reminisce about the best years of their life—with the occasional plot twist sprinkled in.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our review of the print version of Better Luck Next Time.

Listening to Better Luck Next Time feels like hearing someone reminisce about the best years of their life—with the occasional plot twist sprinkled in.
Review by

The Château de Chavaniac, a beautiful stone castle in the remote reaches of the mountains of Auvergne, is the birthplace of the Marquis de Lafayette, a man who played an integral role in the French Revolution and who famously helped the American colonies win their independence from British rule. In The Women of Chateau Lafayette, the marquis is a mere supporting figure as author Stephanie Dray’s novel instead follows three women over three eras of the château’s history.

First there’s Adrienne Lafayette, the marquis’ wife. History has all but forgotten her role as adviser and strategist to her husband, but she put her life and family at risk in pursuit of liberty for all of France. Then during World War I, Beatrice Astor Chanler, a millionaire’s wife and former actor, uses the family fortune to restore the crumbling château, transforming it into a sanctuary for sick and orphaned children. Finally there’s Marthe Simone, one of those orphans, who grows up at the château and works there as a teacher as the Nazis occupy France. Marthe uses her gift as a talented artist to falsify paperwork and protect Jewish children at the manor.

Dray is a bestselling historical novelist who has previously written about Eliza Hamilton and Patsy Randolph, Thomas Jefferson’s daughter. Her ability to create engaging narratives from history, incorporating rich details and fully drawn characters, is downright magical. Adrienne and Beatrice are both based on real women whose stories come vividly to life here, while Marthe is a composite character inspired by the manor’s female resistance fighters, an artist-in-residence and other figures from the château’s history.

In The Women of Chateau Lafayette, we move among the extravagance of Marie Antoinette’s royal court, the brutality of trench warfare in World War I and the misery of a French countryside slowly starving under Nazi rule. It’s an epic, gripping novel, a powerful depiction of the way brutal conflicts based on prejudice and greed tend to repeat time and again. And through it all, Dray poignantly reminds us of the undervalued contributions of women throughout history.

“I had freed my family by force of will,” says Adrienne. “Not only my family, but those who had been arrested for our sake. I had done it without sacrificing any principle or doing violence. It was not the sort of victory for which people built stone monuments, but I hoped it might still, someday, be remembered.”

Throughout her epic, gripping novel, Stephanie Dray reminds us of the undervalued contributions of women throughout history.
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When an author threads a story with multiple perspectives that span years, they run the risk that readers will prefer one character’s voice over another, creating a divide in investment that’s difficult to bridge. With The Lost Apothecary, first-time novelist Sarah Penner takes that risk, weaving together the tales of three women separated by more than two centuries but united through pain, fear and hope. In Penner’s case, the risk pays off in a spellbinding way.

In 1791 London, Nella works in her apothecary shop with a very specific purpose: making discreet poisons to help women rid themselves of the dangerous men in their lives. Nella’s work is solitary for good reason, until she meets Eliza, a 12-year-old whose curiosity transforms her from unlikely client to unlikely friend. 

Meanwhile in the present, Caroline is making a solo journey to London in the wake of her husband’s infidelity. As she wanders the city, a chance discovery reawakens her long-buried passion for history, and as she seeks her new purpose in life, she just might find it in the story of Nella and Eliza.

What’s most striking about The Lost Apothecary is not how expertly Penner braids the three strands of her story together, though the structure and pacing are certainly well done. What is most admirable is that, as she leaps between first-person perspectives—including two women who are often reflecting on the exact same events—the sense of character never once falters. Their presences and voices are distinct, even as they’re bound by an emotional link that is clear to the reader (though not always clear to the characters). There’s a powerful unity to this story, making it nimble yet sturdy, light yet satiating.

Like in a well-brewed potion, all the ingredients have been given exactly the right level of care and time, and the result is a novel that simply overwhelms with its delicate spell.

Like in a well-brewed potion, all the ingredients have been given exactly the right level of care and time, and the result is a novel that simply overwhelms with its delicate spell.
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“I sometimes wondered what it would have been like to be raised a normal girl,” says the narrator of Carol Edgarian’s novel Vera. “But that was not my story.”

It is 1906, and Vera Johnson is being raised in a “respectable” household by a widowed Swedish woman pretending to be her mother. Vera’s real mother, however, is Rose, the madam of San Francisco's most infamous brothel. Rose has kept Vera a secret for nearly 15 years while continuing to provide for her financially. Then the destructive San Francisco earthquake happens, shaking more than the ground beneath their feet.

Readers may come to Vera for a tale about the San Francisco earthquake, or for a juicy novel about the women who populate society’s underbelly. But the novel is actually about motherhood and Vera’s struggle to be cared for as she needs to be. Vera yearns for her mother’s love and respect, and she doesn’t care about how Rose’s disreputable place in society could impact her own life.

The many memorable characters populating Vera may provide interesting fodder for book club conversations. Vera is feisty and chafes at the confines of life in this era; her refusal to conform brings to mind a more street-savvy Scout Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. She is forced to be stronger than any 15-year-old should have to be. And Rose intriguingly demonstrates the tough choices a woman of her time must make in order to be truly free.

That said, the plot of Vera is overly complicated and features a bloated cast of characters. Rose’s employees and neighbors, as well as the city’s politicians, all have subplots to which Vera is only loosely connected. As a result, much of the novel feels like it’s scrambling to tie up loose ends rather than foregrounding the narrator’s own story.

Vera is an engaging novel that could have been executed more succinctly.

Readers may come to Vera for a tale about the San Francisco earthquake, or for a juicy novel about the women who populate society’s underbelly. But the novel is actually about motherhood and Vera’s struggle to be cared for as she needs to be.
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Grab a cup of tea and a scone, and curl up with The Kitchen Front, Jennifer Ryan’s positively delicious novel about four British women competing in a cooking contest during World War II. The winner will become the first female host of a BBC radio show called “The Kitchen Front,” which guides listeners in creative ways to use food rations. Ryan, author of The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir and The Spies of Shilling Lane, continues to excel at creating warmhearted, intriguing homefront drama.

Both the book and the contest are divided into three rounds, in which each contestant must cook a starter, main course and dessert. The stakes are high for the competitors, each of whom yearns for the career-boosting prize. There’s Audrey, the anchor of the book, a struggling war widow with three sons, as well as her estranged, wealthy sister, Lady Gwendoline, who’s trapped in a loveless relationship with her abusive husband. Lady G’s shy young kitchen maid, Nell, is also competing, as well as a professional cook from France named Zelda, a single woman who’s trying to hide an unplanned pregnancy.

Ryan uses alternating chapters to explore each woman’s personality, moving the drama steadily along with brisk dialogue and action. This is very much a book about women’s rights, strengths and abilities, and the class differences among characters add drama and a dash of complexity.


ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Jennifer Ryan marvels at the upbeat attitudes of the homefront cooks who inspired The Kitchen Front.


Recipes are included for each round, some adapted from wartime leaflets. They’re fun to read, and each is well integrated into the unfolding drama. Readers are likely to be more inclined to try some (vegetarian Lord Woolton pie or Audrey’s fruit scones) than others (Lady Gwendoline’s sardine rolls). Historical details sprinkled throughout are equally fascinating, such as the fact that during the war, the moat around the Tower of London was drained to grow cabbages and potatoes that fed struggling Londoners in the East End.

Though the four contestants each face personal difficulties, endure shortages and fear bombing raids, their village of Fenley feels removed from the raging horrors of World War II. Ryan injects humor into their sorrow—as well as empowerment—as the group gradually learns to band together and pool their talents instead of facing off as kitchen opponents.

While The Kitchen Front goes down like a spoonful of sugar, Ryan manages to instill substance and plenty of food for thought in its creative and ultimately uplifting story.

Grab a cup of tea and a scone, and curl up with The Kitchen Front, Jennifer Ryan’s positively delicious novel about four British women competing in a cooking contest during World War II.
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Drama abounds in a fictional British baking contest during World War II from the author of The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir.


Like many admirers of coziness and food, novelist Jennifer Ryan and her daughters share a passion for cooking shows like “The Great British Baking Show” and “Nailed It.” But such competitions are hardly new, the British author explains, speaking cheerily by phone from Ireland, where she is visiting family. Cooking contests were a popular way for the British government to boost homefront morale during World War II. Local contests in churches and town halls were “basically free entertainment” that could help people cope with food shortages.

A more high-stakes affair is the centerpiece of Ryan’s third novel, The Kitchen Front, in which four women from the village of Fenley compete to become the first female presenter on the BBC’s “The Kitchen Front,” an actual World War II radio program that focused on cooking with rations. And yes, recipes are included, ranging from a delectable French pastry creation with honey caramel sauce to a not-so-savory-sounding whale meat and mushroom pie. Ryan explains that a professional cook tested and tweaked each dish, some of which were adapted from Ministry of Food leaflets, such as sheep’s head roll. “I had to include that because, of course, no one’s going to cook it,” she says with a laugh. “But I was intrigued about how it’s put together.”

“I interviewed quite a lot of old ladies in the U.K. about their war experiences, and what absolutely astonishes me is how they look back on it with such a positive attitude.”

With her previous two novels, including the bestselling The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir, Ryan has successfully carved out a prominent place in the saturated realm of World War II fiction. She likes this era because “it was a very empowering time for women.” Ryan began her career as a nonfiction book editor in London, then moved to the U.S. after meeting her husband, settling in the Washington, D.C., area. After becoming a mother, she experienced her own period of self-empowerment, enrolling in a part-time master’s program in writing at Johns Hopkins University, where she began writing The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir. Her manuscript won a contest, and she quickly found an agent and sold the book. “Sometimes I feel like I still don’t believe it,” she says.

For The Kitchen Front, Ryan spent about a year researching and another year writing. “I interviewed quite a lot of old ladies in the U.K. about their war experiences,” Ryan says, “and what absolutely astonishes me is how they look back on it with such a positive attitude.” After all, she says, civilian morale was crucial. “The government knew that this was going to be a long, hard-fought war. They weren’t going to be able to keep men fighting on the front line if they kept having letters from their loved ones saying, ‘I’ve had enough here.’”


ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our starred review of The Kitchen Front.


Alternating chapters focus on the different contestants in Ryan’s ensemble cast, which includes Audrey Landon, a widowed mother of three who fears she may lose the family farm, as well as her estranged sister, Lady Gwendoline Strickland, who lives a lonely but privileged life with her wealthy, abusive husband in a nearby manor. (Lady Gwendoline’s character is based on Marguerite Patten, whom many consider to be the first celebrity chef.) Nell Brown, Lady Gwendoline’s kitchen maid, is such a timid soul that she seems an unlikely choice for a BBC host. And Zelda Dupont is a Cordon Bleu-trained professional who is trying to hide her pregnancy.

Each of these four women is simply trying to “put a patch” on her problems by winning the contest. “By the end of the book,” Ryan says, “they’re reaching inside themselves to discover what it is they actually want.”

The Kitchen FrontAs was the case with The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir, part of Ryan’s initial inspiration for The Kitchen Front sprang from her grandmother, whom she calls “the best cook ever.” Many of her grandmother’s funny stories involved her wartime experiences, and often food was involved. “Whale meat stories were her favorite,” Ryan says. One favored anecdote involved a friend who served a meat pie and joked with her guests in the middle of the meal that it was made of pigeons she’d gotten in Trafalgar Square.

Among the book’s recipes are Ryan’s grandmother’s wild mushroom soup, coquilles St. Jacques, curried salt cod, Spam and game pie, Cornish pasties, summer pudding and choux pastry profiteroles—one of her grandmother’s “signature dishes.”

“She had a very different way of cooking from my mother, which I think spoke an awful lot of her Second World War experience with rations,” Ryan says. “I really wanted to bring that out in the book, this passing of recipes from one generation to another—that tradition and ritual around cooking these dishes and the love that you put into making and sharing them.”

Despite the fact that she writes about war, Ryan is the first to admit, “I like uplifting books. I don’t like unhappy endings. I know it’s very uncool of me.” She confesses that she’s become addicted to “Call the Midwife” but says she needs to wean herself off the TV series. The problem, she says, is that “quite often it’s about quite traumatic things. And if I watch it before going to bed, I don’t sleep very well. Maybe I’m too much of a sensitive soul.”

Drama abounds in a fictional British baking contest during World War II from the author of The Chilbury Ladies’ Choir.
Review by

One might wonder if anything new can be written about Paris, but Janet Skeslien Charles reminds us of the city’s evergreen appeal and unbounded potential for stories with The Paris Library, which tells of the very real, very beloved American Library in Paris and the role it played during World War II.

The year is 1939, and Odile Souchet is nervously reciting the Dewey Decimal System as she prepares for a job interview at the American Library. It’s not common for young ladies of her class to get jobs, but Odile is in love with books as if they were walking, breathing bodies, and she wants nothing more than to be a librarian at a place she has loved since her childhood. It’s no surprise to the reader when she lands the job.

The comfort and whimsy that young Odile once experienced at the American Library are still very much alive. However, everything changes when the Germans occupy Paris and threaten to destroy everything she holds dear. Together with the rest of the staff, Odile joins the resistance, delivering books to Jewish readers banned from entering the library. When the war eventually ends, instead of rejoicing, Odile learns of betrayals that make it impossible for her to remain in the city she loves or to work in a place she had come to know as her sanctuary.

The book skips ahead to 1983 Montana, where we find Odile living alone. In all these years of calling a small American town her home, she hasn’t managed to shake off the mystery surrounding her. When a school assignment connects a lonely and curious teenage girl named Lily with Odile, a friendship is forged, and the two slowly confront the consequences of present and past choices.

What makes The Paris Library such a tender read is Charles’ firsthand experience at the American Library, where she was the programs manager. This is where she first discovered the stories of the brave librarians who fought the Germans with nothing more than books. Her meticulous research brings these figures to life with Odile as their narrator. Furthermore, Charles’ Montana roots help shine light on the small-town life that Lily can’t wait to escape. Together the two storylines provide wonderful insight into relationships and friendships that transcend time and place.

One might wonder if anything new can be written about Paris, but Janet Skeslien Charles reminds us of the city’s evergreen appeal and unbounded potential for stories with The Paris Library, which tells of the very real, very beloved American Library in Paris and the role it played during World War II.

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