Category: Historical Fiction

Once again, a book with numerous accolades has lived up to my expectations. It is also one more example of the incredible stories, both true and fictional, that have been born out of the tragedies of World War II.

Present day. It is 2005, and widowed Eva Traub-Abrams is living in Florida. She sees a German scholar on the news, holding an old book with no owner, recovered from piles of artifacts looted by the Nazis. She recognizes the book and is determined to retrieve it. Suddenly, sixty years disappear and Eva is transported to her own experience during the war.

The majority of the story takes place during that time, beginning in 1942, when Eva was a young woman. Jewish, born in France to Polish parents, her life is about to change forever. Formerly a student at the Sorbonne, her artistic skills are noticed and used to help those who cannot help themselves.

Eva experiences love and loss over the next few years, intensified by the dark cloud of war and the threat of capture, but we are anchored to the knowledge that she survives into old age. The main idea that came to my mind while reading was how war blurs some lines and makes others more distinct. Family and religion are no longer about blood relations and baptism. They are about connections and faith. The definitions of right and wrong also take on new meaning when survival is everything. The caveat, of course, being that everyone thinks they are doing the right thing.

This is a unique plot that looks at a group of people I’ve never seen profiled in historical fiction. We are reminded that the will to live can change one’s belief system, and no one knows what they are truly capable of until they are forced out of their comfort zone and placed into seemingly impossible situations. We are also reminded that, one way or another, God makes all things right.

9.5/10 Stars

Their hunger for books could teach them of a better life free of the hunger, but without food they’d never live long enough or have the strength to find it.

Where to start? I loved this book.

There are so many unique qualities to The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, by Kim Michele Richardson, starting with the fact that it takes two fascinating pieces of history and merges them together into one character.

That character, the voice of our narrator, is Cussy Mary Carter, nicknamed “Bluet.” Piece of History #1: she is a Pack Horse librarian in the 1930’s, riding through the Appalachian Mountains weekly, delivering books to the poor but proud. Piece of History #2: she is a descendant of the Blue Fugates of Kentucky, a group of people with a rare genetic condition that turned their skin blue.

On one hand, you have Cussy Mary as the outcast because of her visible blue skin (she even qualified as “colored,” although she was not African American, and was subject to the same restrictions of the time.) On the other hand, you have Cussy Mary as the one who brings culture to the region’s isolated people. The school children look forward to seeing her. The illiterate (too proud to ever admit such a thing) depend on her to read to them. The elderly simply enjoy her pleasant company.

If there existed a scale of reactions people have towards Cussy Mary, from loving, sympathetic, and compassionate to repulsed, fearful, and murderous, she evokes them all. Yet, somehow, she maintains her composure, ever the book’s heroine from beginning to end. When a character is convinced they are unlovable, yet still manages to treat others with kindness and respect–as Cussy Mary does–you cannot help but admire them.

The themes of prejudice, segregation and ignorance are pervasive throughout the novel. But there is also forgiveness, redemption, and stoicism. My only small criticism is that the ending is almost “too tidy,” seemingly out of step with the rest of the novel. But that is purely my opinion.

Overall, The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek is an extremely engaging read, suitable for book clubs or the curious individual looking for a story unlike any other.

9.5/10 Stars

“The total entropy of any system, said Dr. Hauptmann, will decrease only if the entropy of another system will increase. Nature demands symmetry.”

In All the Light We Cannot See, the Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Anthony Doerr, that symmetry is achieved by telling parallel stories of two main characters on opposite sides of World War II.

In Germany there is Werner Pfennig, an orphaned, tow-headed young man with a special gift for fixing and engineering radios at a time when communication is crucial. His only family is his younger sister, Jutta, who also acts as his conscience. Werner’s talent and Aryan looks get him noticed and he is recruited into a special school for the Hitler Youth.

In France there is Marie-Laure LeBlanc, a freckled, motherless blind girl. Her father, Daniel Le Blanc, is the locksmith at a local museum. His life is completely devoted to his daughter. He has built an elaborate model of the neighborhood so Marie-Laure can find her way. When they move in with his eccentric, agoraphobic Uncle Etienne, Daniel starts over and builds a model of the new location. He is determined that Marie-Laure be as independent as possible, a skill she will need later. Daniel has also been entrusted with a priceless item from the museum.

There are also a handful of important supporting characters: Frank von Rumpel, the determined German gemologist on an unstoppable quest; Madam Manec, Uncle Etienne’s servant who has become such a part of the family that the word servant hardly suffices; and Frederick, Werner’s first roommate at the new boys’ school, whose sensitive nature and morality chafes against the brutal methods being taught.

All throughout the book we, the reader, are ping-ponged back and forth between Werner’s and Marie-Laure’s lives, wondering when they will converge, as you know fate will orchestrate. Set aside all assumptions, however. All of my guesses were incorrect.

Time periods shift frequently. Sometimes they are clearly marked and other times not, the biggest complaint I’ve seen from other reviewers. I see no purpose in the added confusion, there are so many other details about which to keep track. My other complaint would be that the most intense climatic build ends in a very anti-climactic way. The proverbial balloon popping and hissing until empty.

But overall, All The Light We Cannot See is riveting. If you can picture in your mind an upside cone, that is how I felt as I read about Werner and Marie-Laure’s lives, waiting impatiently for them to intertwine. I flew through the 532 pages in about 3 days, staying up until after 1am last night to finish. As someone whose attention span has been greatly affected by the world’s goings-on, that was an achievement. The book was obviously meticulously researched. I’ve never read so much detail about the Hitler Youth. It made me cringe. War’s unfairness, loss, brutality, and waste is peppered throughout. Why some are allowed to live and others are not is a question that echoes into eternity.

9/10 Stars

I had no idea when I listened to (75%) and read (25%) this book about the plague in the 17th century that, a few months later, we would be seeing the global panic we’re currently experiencing with the Coronavirus. The main differences are, of course, that the people then had greater cause to panic and medical technology was drastically inferior to what it is today.

Year of Wonders is about a young widow and mother named Anna. Like other books by Geraldine Brooks, the central female character possesses a quiet strength during a time when women were expected to be passive and mild. Anna does her best to support herself and her two young sons by working on her small farm, working at the parsonage, and bringing in a boarder now and then.

Over the course of the book Anna’s challenges and losses continue to increase, yet she never wavers, relying on her faith that she will see loved ones again, and her devotion to helping others in her social circle.

Geraldine Brooks has a talent for writing books in this Puritan setting, almost making them sound as if they were written in that time period. There was, sadly, a major misstep in the ending of Year of Wonders which led me to agree with other reviewers on Goodreads who stated that the ending felt like a completely different book. After investing so much time and energy into Anna’s story, hers is an odd and disjointed conclusion.

8/10 Stars

It is a joy to read a book that I know will make the “10 Star” list on my site. Moonraker’s Bride, by Madeleine Brent, is such a book.

In much the same way as the protagonist in The Blue Castle (another 10 star favorite,) main character Lucy Waring’s life begins in one place and situation before making a dramatic shift to another. Lucy is a 17 year old British orphan living in China, knowing no other life than the impoverished orphanage run by a well-meaning, but sickly, Miss Prothero. Miss Prothero’s ill health forces Lucy, as the orphanage’s oldest resident, to take on all of the daily responsibilities, including the most basic–finding the means to feed the children in her care. Despite the mounting obstacles, Lucy loves being needed and has learned to be a quick-thinking, courageous, resourceful young woman.

One day, when Lucy’s luck (seemingly) runs out, she meets political prisoner, Nick Sabine. Nick’s own future is grim, but this unlikely meeting changes Lucy’s life forever. Suddenly she is immersed in a myriad of adventures that include a puzzling riddle, a lost treasure, a family feud, and numerous other twists and turns.

The story, the writing style, and, especially, the character development in Moonraker’s Bride are glorious. The time period invites some suspension of reality, but it is forgivable. What makes the female-centric novel even more interesting is that author Madeleine Brent was actually a man named Peter O’Donnell (1920-2010) writing under a female pseudonym. I knew this going into the book, but was even more impressed while reading it. Lucy Waring’s sentiments and reactions “feel” female, without being insulting or stereotypical.

I highly recommend Moonraker’s Bride. This was a book I could not put down. It was also a book I immediately missed when I completed it. As an FYI, it is out of print, as are all of the books by Madeleine Brent (a tragedy,) but used copies are available on both Amazon and alibris.com.

10/10 Stars

Is it possible for a book written completely in an epistolary style and a movie adaptation that takes great liberties in plot to compliment each other perfectly? The answer is a resounding “yes.” I give you The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by the late Mary Ann Shaffer and her niece, Annie Barrows.

I will admit I began the book first and then abandoned it for several weeks. Reading a book that is all letters back and forth felt a bit tedious. (Although it may have been my own timing.) It was like opening a box of letters in someone’s attic and, while reading them, trying to create a timeline, a narrative, and full-bodied characters. My imagination at the time (or lack thereof) needed help. Shortly thereafter, a friend mentioned the movie’s release on Netflix and how much she loved it. Being a period piece, British, with four cast members from my beloved Downton Abbey was all I needed to know.

Soon I became engrossed in the lives and stories of London writer Juliet Ashton and her new pen pals and friends on the island of Guernsey. The movie’s casting, production quality, and acting more than made up for the changes it made to the book–changes I only realized later while reading. It gave faces, voices, and personalities to our darling, witty Juliet and Guernsey natives Dawsey, Isola, Eben, Amelia, Eli, and Kit, as well as the Society’s leader, Elizabeth McKenna, and Juliet’s publisher, Sydney Stark. All changes were immediately forgiven.

I know, this is sounding more like a movie critique than a book review…

Historically, the novel opens a window to a section of World War II that most of us have never known, the German occupation of the Island of Guernsey and the effect it had on the residents. The island was no more a refuge but a prison, with those living there completely cut off from news and communication with the rest of the world, including the United Kingdom, where the Guernsey children were sent. It is a life that we, who have never known war on the home-front, can scarcely imagine. There are a few scenes in the book that describe the horrors of the time that, gratefully, were omitted from the screen. Reading about them was enough for me.

That really is what the story is about–the power of the written word and the light it brings, especially when the world outside is so dark.

As a stand-alone novel, it is difficult for me to review it without including the film because they work in tandem so well. This is a rare occasion where watching the film first really worked for me when I read the book, and all I have to go on is my own experience. Still, that experience was a delightful one. I recommend them both whole-heartedly.

9/10 Stars