Like a fast-moving thunderstorm across the Great Plains, The Bones of Paradise wastes little time establishing plot: Two people are found dead in the opening chapter. A white cattle rancher happens upon the fresh grave of a young Native-American woman. J.B. Bennett quickly determines that the woman, Star, has been murdered. But Bennett looks up to see someone he knows pointing a rifle, and feels a bullet pierce his chest. 

A gifted writer, Agee returns here to historical fiction, the genre that served her so well in her award-winning The River Wife. The Bones of Paradise is set in late 19th-century Nebraska in the aftermath of the Wounded Knee Massacre, where some 200 Lakota men, women and children were shot and killed by U.S. cavalry. The tension between the white settlers and the remaining tribal members, who often face discrimination, places a strain on the friendship between Dulcinea Bennett, J.B.’s widow, and Rose, Star’s sister. But the two women are united in their quest to find the killer . . . or killers.

Agee’s fast-paced narrative resembles the expansive prose of Larry McMurtry. Her lyrical writing and attention to detail evoke comparisons to Annie Proulx. There are biblical and Shakespearean echoes here as well: Dulcinea’s two sons recall Cain and Abel, and could somehow be involved in the murder; Dulcinea’s father-in-law, Drum, conjures images of a crazed King Lear. The Bones of Paradise is also a romance, with sparks between Dulcinea and a new hired hand—and of course, there’s that murder mystery. Agee deftly weaves all these plot lines together into a captivating tale of life—and death—in the old American West.

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Despite the abundance of Massachusetts coastline that serves as a backdrop for Leaving Lucy Pear, readers should be warned that Anna Solomon’s novel has nothing in common with your typical summer beach read.

Solomon’s story begins in 1917, when Beatrice Haven—an unwed, albeit wealthy, young Jewish mother—makes the heartbreaking decision to abandon her infant daughter beneath a pear tree. The baby, named Lucy Pear, is quickly rescued by Emma Murphy, an impoverished Irish Catholic who already has her hands more than full trying to feed, clothe and care for a growing family of her own. Lucy is thrust into a world far removed from that of her birth family, but Solomon avoids clichés proclaiming the nobility and selflessness of the poor. Industrialists have grown rich on profits hewn from the broken bones and spirits of the working class, and Solomon’s nuanced story depicts the catastrophe that results when these two disparate spheres collide—both in the larger world, and through the lens of Lucy’s experience with the two women who love her.

Spanning the Great War and Prohibition and deftly delving into the social issues of the time, Leaving Lucy Pear is the perfect choice for readers who appreciate the rigor and richness of literary fiction.

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

British author Jessie Burton’s sophomore effort juggles two eras: 1960s London and central Spain at the start of the Spanish Civil War. Like The Miniaturist (2014), The Muse focuses on a work of art that influences the lives around it. In this case, the work is a significant Spanish painting with a mysterious provenance that links the lives of three women over four decades. 

The 1960s narrator of The Muse is Odelle Bastien, originally from Trinidad and an aspiring writer trying to find her way in London. Lonely and underemployed in a shoe shop, she finds an unexpected mentor in Marjorie Quick, who not only hires her at the Skelton Institute of Art, but also supports her literary ambitions. 

In the parallel story, art dealer Henry Schloss has settled with his wife and 19-year-old daughter, Olive, in a small Spanish village outside of Malaga in 1936. Half siblings Isaac and Teresa Robles step in as handyman and maid for the wealthy family. Olive is drawn to Isaac, a painter swept up by the country’s revolutionary fervor. An artist herself, Olive has kept her talent a secret from her father. Olive persuades Isaac to present her work as his, and soon after, notable collectors such as Peggy Guggenheim are writing the young Spaniard. 

The two stories come together when Odelle’s boyfriend, Lawrie, shows up at the Skelton with a striking painting that belonged to his mother. The work is promoted by the gallery as a newly uncovered masterpiece by Isaac, but Odelle is disturbed by both Lawrie’s lack of honesty about his family and Marjorie’s panicked reaction to the painting. 

Though the details are intriguing, the plot wobbles a bit, and the otherwise determined Olive’s protests against claiming her work as her own don’t quite ring true. Still, Burton has a sure grasp on how ambition and revenge prove to be great motivators. The Muse proves an enjoyable read, especially for those interested in its inventive blend of art and history.

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Rae Meadows’ latest novel, I Will Send Rain, plunges her readers into Oklahoma’s Dust Bowl from the very first pages: The Bell family is hunkered down in the two-room dugout Samuel carved out of the earth when he and Annie arrived 19 years earlier. It’s 1934, and Mulehead, Oklahoma, is being hit with its first dust storm—with many to follow. When Samuel and Annie and their children, Birdie, 15, and Fred, 8, emerge, they see the garden, the house, the wheat in the fields buried under feet of dust.

As the drought rolls on, families begin to disappear, defeated by both the lack of rain and the increasingly frequent dust storms. Samuel turns to religion. Convinced that God has a plan, he decides to build a boat—an ark that, like Noah’s, will bring them to safety when the deluge finally arrives. Annie, on the other hand, has given up on God. Irritated by Samuel’s obsession with his boat, she drifts into a flirtatious relationship with the town mayor.

The strength of Meadows’ novel lies with these sympathetic and carefully drawn characters, each one confronting this harsh reality in his or her own way. Regardless of how much readers know about the Dust Bowl, reading this thoroughly engaging and meticulously researched novel will make them feel as if they have experienced it themselves.

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, August 2016

Magical realism may most frequently be associated with Latin-American literature, but Pulitzer Prize finalist Eowyn Ivey (The Snow Child) has proven that the technique works equally well in novels set in distinctly chillier locales. Her second novel, To the Bright Edge of the World, is a spellbinding tale of adventure that blends myth and historical fiction and takes readers into the heart of the untamed wilderness of the Alaskan frontier.

Told through private diary entries, newspaper clippings, government reports, personal letters and more, the patchwork-quilt narrative results in a fully immersive reading experience that draws readers deep into 19th-century Alaska. It’s 1885, and Lieutenant Colonel Allen Forrester has been asked by the U.S. government to travel north along the Wolverine River and survey the surrounding land and its peoples. Along with a small company of soldiers, Allen embarks on a grueling foray into an unforgiving terrain. His reports detail the harsh conditions the group experiences and are firmly grounded in this world; however, his journal and letters to his wife, Sophie, shed a different light on the events, describing encounters with the local indigenous people that have a decidedly supernatural bent. The deeper his team moves into the Alaskan backcountry, the more the wilderness exposes their own primal natures. Meanwhile, feeling stifled by the small-minded community back home, Sophie embarks on her own journey of self-discovery.

Filled with love, loss, grief and joy, To the Bright Edge of the World is a cracking adventure that pulses with emotional power and a brutal kind of beauty. Though the story is filled with tender correspondence between Allen and Sophie, the book itself stands as a love letter from Ivey to her home state: Even at their most harrowing, her descriptions of Alaska’s sweeping wilds are breathtaking and evocative. With rich prose, compelling characters and elegant storytelling, To the Bright Edge of the World brings history and folklore to life in a visceral and utterly beguiling way.

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In 1835, Charles Darwin visited the Galapagos, aka the Enchanted Isles, prompting the theory of evolution by natural selection. By 1945, the likes of Adolf Hitler had perverted this theory in most horrific fashion. This coincidence of paradise with inferno underlies Allison Amend's absorbing third novel, Enchanted Islands.

Our narrator, Frances, is a Polish-American Jew telling her life story from the perspective of a 1960s nursing home. A native of Duluth, Minnesota, she spends her youth in Chicago and Nebraska, working as a farmhand and teacher.  By middle age, in San Francisco, she marries a spook named Ainslie Conway and follows him to Galapagos, which have strategic importance thanks to their proximity to the Panama Canal. Frances delights in the island's riches. The novel resembles others offering islands as places of escape, including Conrad's Victory or Alex Garland's The Beach.  But as usual in these works, someone shows up to dash the illusion. 

Frances Conway was a real person.  She and Ainslie wrote a memoir, The Enchanted Islands, that elided the cloak-and-dagger stuff.  Amend's spirited rendition of her life reads less like a memoir and more like Jane Austen.  It has acute interpersonal observations and subjective flights of fancy—not Gertrude Bell so much as Gertrude Stein.  Darwin and Hitler also haunt Enchanted Islands.  But the islands aren't enchanted so much as Conway is.

In 1897, Anita Hemmings was a senior at Vassar College alongside some of the best and brightest girls in the country. She was a member of the Glee Club and a fierce debater, but Hemmings also held a secret that should have banned her from admission: She was an African American. In The Gilded Years, Karin Tanabe fictionalizes the story of the real-life Hemmings, who graduated from Vassar more than 40 years before Vassar allowed African Americans to enroll. 

The daughter of a Boston janitor and the descendant of slaves, Hemmings was light complexioned enough to pass as white, and she was even voted class beauty. She kept a distance from her classmates, but in her senior year, Hemmings roomed with wealthy and well-connected Lottie Taylor. As she befriends the adventurous Lottie, Anita finds herself enjoying life as a privileged white woman. But when Lottie becomes infatuated with Anita’s brother, Anita’s secret faces a serious threat. 

A Vassar graduate, Tanabe first learned about Anita Hemmings from an article in the alumni magazine. This engaging novel, set in a time of conflict between old money and new ideas, captures both the bravery and the heartbreak of Anita’s decision. Though the writing at times lacks nuance, the story is a captivating one. Readers won’t soon forget Anita Hemmings or the choices she made.

This article was originally published in the June 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

With just one previous book under her belt, author Anton DiSclafani has already made a name for herself as a writer whose female protagonists dare to be different. Her debut novel, The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls, was a titillating coming-of-age tale set in a world of privilege in the 1930s South; it rocketed to the top of summer must-read lists and was one of the most buzzed-about bestsellers of 2013. Three years later, DiSclafani is poised to shake up summer reading once more with her second novel, The After Party.

In 1950s Houston, Texas, the champagne and martinis flow as freely as the oil that has made the River Oaks community so very wealthy. Our guide to the ins and outs of Houston’s social milieu is Cece Buchanan, best friend and confidante to Joan Fortier, the indisputable queen bee of the River Oaks scene. Even though it means standing in her shadow, Cece revels in her place by Joan’s side. She takes pride in being the only person who truly knows secretive Joan . . . or so she believes, until Joan disappears one day without a word. When she reappears a year later, Cece is ready to resume their friendship as though no time has passed. But as Joan’s signature wild behavior begins to morph into something more sinister, Cece won’t rest until she has uncovered whatever Joan is hiding.

The After Party is a scintillating journey into the world of the social elite that penetrates beyond manicured lawns and designer duds to expose the dysfunctions of the upper crust. But don’t dismiss this as a literary “Real Housewives of River Oaks”—DiSclafani delves deeper, thoughtfully exploring topics of female sexuality and empowerment, as well as the delicate dynamics of female friendship. Populated with complex and complicated characters and relationships, The After Party is an engrossing period drama.

RELATED CONTENT: Read our interview with DiSclafani about The After Party.

This article was originally published in the June 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In post-World War II Thirroul, Australia, Annika Lachlan has grown a life that, to her, is perfect. In the years since the war, she and her family have found peace and purpose. But when her husband, Mac, is killed in a tragic accident, she must raise their daughter on her own, as two more grieving people in the postwar world. Annika accepts a job at the Railway Institute’s Library, searching there between the pages for a new meaning for her life.

Local poet Roy McKinnon is also searching for meaning in pages and words; during the war, he was prolific, sorting through the high emotions of the time by penning lines. In the years since it ended, however, he has found himself unable to find his voice and the inspiration that came so easily in the chaotic years. Meanwhile, local doctor Frank Draper just wants things to go back to the way they were before the war, but is haunted by the people he couldn’t help, despite his efforts: survivors of Nazi concentration camps.

The Railwayman’s Wife is a three-pronged story that explores life, grief, and how to cope with the intersection of the two, written in a sweeping, if at times overly lyrical, style that conveys the breadth of emotions the characters feel. Brisbane-based author Ashley Hay has published four nonfiction books and the novel The Body in the Clouds, and The Railwayman’s Wife received the Colin Roderick Award when it was published in Australia. While exploring how three different people experience life after war and loss, The Railwayman’s Wife uses beautiful prose and empathetic characters to tell a story of both hope and heartache.

A multigenerational, multi-viewpoint tale that’s a meditation on everything from history to cultural context to personal strife, Kelly Kerney’s second novel is an adept meditation on the weight of history.

Hard Red Spring takes place in four different time periods over the course of nearly a century, all focused in some way on the history and culture of Guatemala—and on the 1902 disappearance of a young girl, who watches her family’s prospects get ripped to shreds. In 1954, the wife of the American ambassador to Guatemala enters into an affair that drives her to distraction. In 1983, a pair of missionaries get more than they bargained for, and their very faith is rattled. And finally, in 1999, a mother returns to her adopted daughter’s home country in the hope of learning about her child’s heritage and rekindling an old flame. All of these narrative threads are tied together by plot, as well as thematic resonance: These are all people in over their heads.

The novel begins with the 1902 storyline. Evie is American, but she’s obsessed with the mythology of her adoptive Guatemalan home, even attempting to snatch a doll left at a makeshift altar inside a cave near her home. We all like to hope that we’re going to glimpse something mystical in another culture, and in Evie we see that same curiosity. Kerney puts readers into the place of her characters, as they peer into a culture they may not ever understand. Interweaving stories of love, loss and confusion with beautiful prose and pacing, Hard Red Spring will pull readers through page after page.

In five previous novels, Diane McKinney-Whetstone has painted a vivid portrait of 20th-century black life in Philadelphia—from the Jazz Age in her first book, Tumbling, right up to the 1990s in Blues Dancing. With her sixth novel, Lazaretto, McKinney-Whetstone turns to the 19th century.

The book opens on the night of Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, when a pregnant maid named Meda visits a midwife who “had become well known in the whispered circles of rich white men as a viable solution to the consequence of their indiscretions.” The midwife makes a fateful decision regarding Meda’s baby that will reverberate for the rest of the novel. 

This is just one of many deceptions in a book filled with characters who may not be what they seem. Consider orphans Linc and Bram, both named after the beloved fallen president. They tug at the heartstrings of Meda, and, when they grow older, make a fatal mistake, forcing them to flee Philadelphia. They return, however, and that’s when Lazaretto really hits its stride: The quarantine hospital that lends the book its title becomes the site of a much-anticipated wedding, bringing many of the characters together for what is supposed to be a joyous event. But events beyond the staff’s control interrupt the wedding, harshly reminding McKinney-Whetstone’s African-American characters of their place in the social hierarchy.  

There may be a bit too much melodrama in Lazaretto for some readers, and at times the years seem to fly by too quickly. Overall, though, McKinney-Whetstone’s sympathetic characters and historical touches (one character eats a “king’s breakfast of peppered cow’s brain and cornbread”) more than compensate. Meda, at one point, laments “the tragedy of a life with no history at all.” Once again, McKinney-Whetstone has managed to bring to life a wide range of characters whose triumphs and tribulations would never show up in a history book.

This article was originally published in the April 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Kathleen Grissom’s eagerly anticipated sequel to The Kitchen House (2010), which portrayed the grim reality of life on a Virginia plantation, follows some of that novel’s characters to pre-Civil War Philadelphia. But it stands alone as its own compelling story as well.

Jamie Pyke, son of a slave and the master of Tall Oakes plantation, escaped at age 13 to Philadelphia. Jamie easily passed for white, and he has become a well-established society gentleman over the last decade. But when Henry, the slave who helped Jamie get to Philadelphia years earlier, asks him for a life-changing favor, Jamie must confront his past.

Glory Over Everything features an engaging cast of characters. These include Henry and his son, Pan, who reminds Jamie of himself as a child; Robert, a longtime butler who has his own dark history; Sukey, a slave from Tall Oakes who is now part of the Underground Railroad; Caroline, Jamie’s love interest; and Caroline’s parents, a bigoted couple who threaten to reveal Jamie’s multiracial heritage. Chapters are written in the voices of these characters, delving into the interwoven stories. 

Grissom brings the 1830s to life, a time when slavery was still thriving, freed slaves lived in fear of recapture and abolitionists were becoming increasingly active. Like The Kitchen House, Glory Over Everything will appeal to readers who appreciate a thought-provoking historical drama, making it a good selection for book clubs as well.

This article was originally published in the April 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

“Rush oh!” was the rallying cry of the whalers in New South Wales, shouted when they spotted their target and set out to sea. It is also the title of Australian screenwriter Shirley Barrett’s fictional debut, a charming blend of history, whaling folklore and period illustrations, based on an actual whaling family in Eden, New South Wales. 

Rush Oh! is set during the harsh whaling season of 1908. At 19, Mary Davidson is the oldest daughter of the community’s lead whaler. Responsible for the care of her five motherless siblings, she is also the cook and laundress for her father’s crew and old enough to understand what the use of kerosene over whale oil might mean to the family finances. A mysterious new arrival—a minister turned whaler—provides some romantic distraction for Mary, but the day-to-day worries over dwindling reserves and an empty larder take precedence. 

Barrett’s inspiration for this novel came from a visit to the Killer Whale Museum in Eden, and it is her depiction of the symbiotic relationship between human and beast that gives this novel so much of its offbeat charm. Killer whales earned their nickname because of their method of attacking and hunting fish and sea mammals with incredible skill and dexterity. In Rush Oh!, the pod of whales work in tandem with the fishermen, luring larger whales to the bay, and receiving their cut of the spoils when the killing is done. 

 Rush Oh! is buoyed by Mary’s tart and unsentimental tone and wry observations of her family and neighbors. But her gentle scorn blinds her to some of the events happening right under her nose, especially when her frivolous sister Louisa makes a decision that shocks the whole family. Despite the graphic depictions of whale hunting (perhaps not for the squeamish), Rush Oh! is a lively, humorous portrayal of the domestic side of whaling at the end of its heyday, told with genuine sympathy and good will.

This article was originally published in the April 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.