When a book is billed as a historical epic set in ninth-century Norway, with the evocative title The Half-Drowned King, there are certain expectations. A book like that should deliver great deeds by hardened warriors, kings cloaked in furs, great feasts, harrowing sea voyages and brutal battles. With this novel, the first in a promised trilogy, Linnea Hartsuyker delivers all of those historical epic goods. Then, she digs deeper.

In the ninth century, Norway is still a fragmented land ruled by many kings, but a prophecy promises that one king will rise to rule the whole land. That king is Harald, an ambitious young warrior whose name rings through history and Hartsuyker’s narrative. Her heroes are two characters playing smaller roles in this saga of kinghood. Ragnvald, the titular half-drowned warrior, is a man driven by a quest to take back his lands from his domineering stepfather Olaf. Svanhild, his sister, longs for a life beyond Olaf’s farm, a life where she’s not promised to a man she doesn’t wish to marry. Everything changes for them when Ragnvald is nearly murdered in an attempt to wipe away his family’s claim to land and title. As Ragnvald fights for revenge, Svanhild fights for freedom, and both end up at the center of history.

Everything you want from a medieval saga set during this crucial period of Norwegian history is here, from massive battles to honor-fueled duels to rituals and supernatural visions. What sets The Half-Drowned King apart is the way Hartsuyker renders it all. Her tales of great Viking deeds are given all of the epic gravity they require, but the character drama is what makes this novel addictive. In Ragnvald we see the proud warrior beset by vulnerability, self-doubt and moral ambiguity, and in Svanhild we see a powerful spirit longing to break free, discovering her own cunning and intellectual ferocity in the process. As they trade off chapters and the story barrels toward clash after clash, the timelessness of the tale becomes clear. Hartsuyker has captured an era with precise, powerful prose imagery, but she’s also vividly envisioned two enduring characters.

The Half-Drowned King is an essential new novel for fans of the medieval novels of Bernard Cornwell, the character-driven Tudor novels of Hilary Mantel or the violent fury of “Game of Thrones.”

Margery Williams Bianco is best known as the author of the beloved children’s classic The Velveteen Rabbit. Few are likely to know that in her personal life, Margery was a mother to a rather prodigious daughter, Pamela, who at the tender age of 4 had already captivated the art scene in Europe.

While the Bianco women shared a natural creativity and both achieved much success in their respective endeavors, the similarities end at their personal dispositions. While Margery was upbeat, social and sure of herself, Pamela, perhaps due to early success facilitated by an overbearing father, spent most of her life doubting her craft and not knowing exactly where she fit in this world.

Debut author Laurel Davis Huber chronicles this mother-daughter relationship of almost 45 years and sheds light on an artist whom history seems to have mostly forgotten in the aptly titled, fascinating The Velveteen Daughter.

Based in extensive fact and research, the story takes us from Italy to New York, covering the lively art scene of the early 20th century. Many of the supporting characters include other famous celebrities of the time like Pablo Picasso, Richard Hughes and Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney, who is personally credited for introducing the Bianco family to America.

Huber honors all aspects of Pamela’s life, as we learn not just about her artistic achievements and her family life, but also her debilitating, obsessive relationships and two peculiar marriages.

Pamela outlived both her parents and continued to live in New York until her own passing in 1994, which by all accounts seems like recent history. With a wonderful touch, Huber makes a lost artist come alive in vibrant yet melancholic colors.

Longtime editor and essayist Janet Benton turns her considerable skills to fiction with her debut, Lilli de Jong, a beautifully written historical novel set in 1880s Philadelphia about pregnancy, motherhood and the fight for economic independence.

Twenty-two-year-old Lilli discovers she is pregnant after her lover leaves for Pittsburgh in search of better employment. Though he has promised to send for her, Lilli is fearful of being shunned from her close-knit Quaker community and leaves home, taking refuge in a charity residence for unwed mothers in urban Philadelphia. After her daughter is born, she decides to keep the baby, a highly unusual decision in the late-19th century, when finding acceptance and shelter was nearly impossible for an unmarried mother.

Desperate for employment, Lilli is hired as a wet nurse for a wealthy family, at the financial and emotional expense of boarding her own daughter, with catastrophic results. Again and again, circumstances force Lilli to choose between her moral ideals and harsh social realities.

The novel is styled as a first-person diary, and Lilli’s eloquent self-expression is a product of her Quaker education and training as a teacher. Her clear-eyed view of her situation and her fearless questioning of a repressive system make for exhilarating reading, but even her spirit can’t always compete with the hardships of a culture where even wealthy white women had little economic agency.

It is a testament to Benton as a writer that this novel wears its considerable historical detail so lightly, although the narrative does get bogged down with repetitive descriptions of nursing and a few hard-to-believe deus ex machinas. But in its depiction of a mother’s fierce attachment to her child, Lilli de Jong has real resonance in today’s battles over women’s reproductive health and the rights of working mothers.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read a Q&A with Janet Benton for Lilli de Jong.

This article was originally published in the June 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

There are few romantic heroes in classic literature more confusing or less sympathetic than Jane Eyre’s Mr. Rochester. In her debut novel, Sarah Shoemaker has set about unmasking this brooding hero. Fully immersing readers in the language and culture of the 19th century, Mr. Rochester is a coming-of-age journey that follows the lonely and motherless Edward Rochester from bleak Thornfield Hall to sunny and humid Jamaica, through a childhood that feels torn from a Dickens novel and into the murky waters of adulthood.

Mr. Rochester differs from popular Jane Eyre retellings, such as Jean Rhys’ Wide Sargasso Sea, in that Shoemaker, a retired librarian, succeeds in painting a sympathetic portrait of the man. Edward is revealed to be deeply emotional and achingly lonely. His sole desire in life is a companion—be it lover or friend—and his repeated inability to find one is what drives him to become the man readers know and (sometimes) love. The strength of the novel lies in Shoemaker’s acute attention to detail and historical accuracy, particularly in her treatment of Jamaica, where slavery is king and everything young Edward thought he knew has been turned upside down.

Mr. Rochester is beautifully paced and compelling as it delivers a sweeping narrative and a new perspective to one of literature’s most famous love stories. Many questions and confusions from the original story—such as Bertha’s backstory, why Edward hides his feelings and why he finally decides to propose—have been answered. Though the novel will appeal most to fans of Jane Eyre, Shoemaker has recreated the spirit of the original, which will help those unfamiliar with the text enjoy this retelling.