Latest news with #historicalfiction
New York Times
13 hours ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
A Fantasy Novel Inspired By Real History, When U.S. Hotels Housed Nazis
THE LISTENERS, by Maggie Stiefvater There's something peculiarly fascinating about novels set in self-enclosed communities with their own rules: a ship at sea, a research outpost, a university. While the inhabitants of such places may believe themselves to be insulated from the outside world, their stories tend to prove them wrong. In 'The Listeners,' the adult debut from the best-selling young adult author Maggie Stiefvater, the community in question is a hotel called the Avallon, built on West Virginia mineral springs. The surrounding area is hardscrabble coal country, but the Avallon is an island of luxury, a retreat for 'people so high on the social ladder they had to duck for the sun to go overhead.' And it's all overseen by June Hudson, the hotel's manager, whose 'holler-bred accent' betrays her humble origins and who sees her job as 'intentionally curating joy for anyone who came.' A self-made hospitality prodigy, June led the Avallon through the Great Depression without sacrificing its commitment to the finer things. But now it's 1942, and war will test her skills in a whole new way. In the wake of Pearl Harbor, the State Department is relocating captured Axis diplomats to upscale hotels pending an exchange for their imprisoned American counterparts abroad. At the Avallon, June must expel her well-heeled guests and give their rooms to Nazis and Japanese imperialists. This premise is based on real events. Some American hotels really did house enemy diplomats during World War II. But at the fictional Avallon, with its reputation as 'a place where past and future were erased, replaced by an immutable, carefree present,' the repercussions of this unusual arrangement are perilous. The bad vibes that arrive with the new guests threaten the Avallon's main attraction: the springs that run under the hotel and fill it with scents of 'perfume, blood, fruit, dirt, caves, blossoms.' The sweetwater is, you see, a bit alive. June's special sensitivity to it is one of the secrets to her success, and she fears the water will react poorly to the hotel's new occupants, who are essentially pampered prisoners. Melding history and fantasy in fiction can be tricky, but Stiefvater deftly pulls off this particular magic via a resonant central metaphor. For June, the 'guiltless game of luxury' is itself a form of enchantment that involves anticipating unspoken needs and smoothing over conflicts. Her mystical relationship with the water follows naturally from the same ability to 'listen' that makes her a superlative hotelier, and she's fully committed to the sleight of hand required to maintain the Avallon's legend. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Associated Press
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Associated Press
Book Review: In the ‘The Listeners,' Maggie Stiefvater approaches WWII with a distinct voice
Maggie Stiefvater has brought her magical prose with her to her first adult novel. 'The Listeners' takes place at a luxury hotel in West Virginia as World War II begins. In need of a place to store their foreign nationals — i.e. Axis diplomats and their families — the U.S. government takes over the Avallon Hotel, forcing its manager and her staff to scramble to balance hospitality and hedonism. June Porter Hudson, the hotel's general manager, is a self-assured woman, wholeheartedly devoted to the Avallon Hotel at the cost of her identity. Tucker Minnick is a tough but emotionally wounded FBI agent, responsible for diplomatically monitoring his hostages and any accomplices. When June and Tucker meet, their logistical tug-of-war serves as mutual annoyance, entertainment and self-discovery. Humanizing and detail-oriented, 'The Listeners' is a story about both people management and self-regulation. It's a unique, domestic take on World War II that showcases the encroaching nature of war as men are drafted, families are torn apart and rations are enforced. At the same time, the novel shows how class divide fosters privilege – and ignorance – in the rich, especially during dark times. When the reality of the conflict finally hits the hotel, both the reader and the narrators have no choice but to reckon with the gray area that exists during wartime: Enemies can be likable; friends can be unsavory. In her afterword, Stiefvater revealed that 'The Listeners' was inspired by real people, events and attitudes, which made the novel that much more impressive. It was well-researched and tactful, handling dark issues with sensitivity and embedding colorful detail onto each page. The many threads opened at the beginning of the book in the form of letters, hotel room orders, oddly specific details and mismatched characters begged the question, 'Will this come together?' By the third half of the novel, the conflict was waiting to bubble over. But character development came full circle, loose plot threads tied up and previous hints were unveiled as June and Tucker formed a quaint alliance, wrestling to protect the most vulnerable at the Avallon. The result of their efforts was unexpected yet undeniably satisfying. Stiefvater is not afraid of using punctuation in unconventional ways. She demonstrates yet again that rebelling against conventional writing standards can allow creativity to flourish. The prose maintained a sense of magic and possibility, while maturing respectively from her previous young adult work like 'The Raven Cycle' and 'The Dreamer Trilogy.' 'The Listeners' could've been more grounded at times, the supernatural properties of the mountain sweetwater distracting from the novel's historical fiction genre. Altogether, 'The Listeners' lived up to the literary finesse Stiefvater has established in her previous work, this unique take on World War II delivering a beautifully developed setting, riveting plot twists and vivid characters. ___ AP book reviews:
CBC
5 days ago
- Politics
- CBC
In Zilla Jones' novel, an opera singer gives a voice to the Grenada Revolution
The 1983 revolution in Grenada was a major moment of the Cold War era — and writer Zilla Jones grew up hearing stories about its connection to her own family. Jones transports readers back to that time in her debut novel, The World So Wide. It follows a Canadian opera singer, Felicity Alexander, who is caught up in the military coup and placed under house arrest. What unfolds next is a saga that spans decades and reflects on race, love, belonging and revolution. "What is nice about historical fiction is that it's historical, but it speaks to now," said Jones on Bookends with Mattea Roach. She crafted the novel by envisioning three parallel journeys involving her characters and herself. "One is the story of Grenada and the rise and fall of that revolution, one is Felicity and the rise and fall of her career, and then one is the rise and fall of me, the artist, the writer." Jones is a Winnipeg author and has been a finalist for the CBC Short Story Prize on four occasions, and the CBC Nonfiction Prize in 2024. If you're interested in the CBC Literary Prizes, the 2025 CBC Poetry Prize is currently accepting submissions. You can submit an original, unpublished poem or collection of poems from April 1-June 1. Jones joined Roach to talk about why opera centres the story, her own work as a lawyer and the power of art as protest. Mattea Roach: Your main character, Felicity Alexander, is a renowned international opera diva from Winnipeg Opera. What is it that draws her to the world of opera? Zilla Jones: Felicity has a very unusual beginning in the world of opera, for sure. She was born in 1947 in Winnipeg. She doesn't have any opera in her background that she knows of. Her mother's from Grenada and she's a single mother raising her. Her father isn't known to her; he's a Ukrainian Canadian man. She just has this innate belief in herself that drives her to go throughout the world and sing. - Zilla Jones She falls into opera by accident. She starts piano lessons as a child and the piano teacher discovers that she has this amazing voice and the piano teacher believes that that can be developed. Felicity just believes in her own talent really, when there's no real reason to. But she just has this innate belief in herself that drives her to go throughout the world and sing. What is your relationship with opera? I did study opera as my undergraduate degree. I've always just loved music and, like Felicity, I think from childhood, just been drawn to it. Opera in particular, I love because it's so dramatic. I think somewhere in the book talks about opera being a world — and you have all the human emotions, love, betrayal, revenge, forgiveness, all of that is there. Those are universal themes that anyone can enjoy. The format of it is sometimes intimidating because it's often not in your native language. So for English speakers, many of the operas are Italian or French or German. The style of music is very complex, so it does take some study to really appreciate opera, but I'm always somebody that wants to make art accessible. I think that people can understand it and writing about it is one way I think to come at it a little bit differently. So instead of using the music, you use the words to enter the world of music. There's quite a culture clash happening in this novel because we have, on the one hand, this character who is an opera singer. She is singing in opera houses in Europe. She's a regular at the Met in New York. But we meet her under house arrest in the country of Grenada in 1983, which was at the time a nation that was experiencing a military coup. What puts Felicity in this situation? She's in Grenada because of love, essentially. So when you read the novel, you'll see that her first and real love is a man named Claude Buckingham, who is from Grenada. He comes to London to study law. Felicity is there to study opera. They meet there and then they separate because they have different dreams and different destinies. Hers is to go and sing opera at the Met and in different places in the world, his is to go back to Grenada and bring the revolution, but she never forgets him. She sees this as her opportunity to reconnect with him and she also believes in the revolution so she wants to be there to support it. - Zilla Jones Near the beginning of the novel, she receives an invitation to come and perform at a showcase that's being held in Grenada. So she sees this as her opportunity to reconnect with him and she also believes in the revolution so she wants to be there to support it. Was there anything in your own personal experience that you were pulling from and crafting this character? That's always the question in fiction, right? How much of it is autofiction and how much is "fiction fiction?" And the good thing about writers is we don't have to tell. There are definitely pieces of me in there; and then there are things that are not me at all. I did study opera. So I know what it's like to be in that world as a little bit of an outsider and somebody that maybe didn't come to it the same way as other people. I am also a person of mixed-race; I am of Trinidadian heritage, but I also have roots from many of the other Caribbean islands. So I've always grown up with these stories of Caribbean history and the Grenada revolution had a huge role in my family story. I always heard about that story. These stories are definitely very much part of my DNA. But a lot of the other things that happen to Felicity are just imagination. What was the discourse like about the Grenada revolution when you were growing up? My connection to it was in multiple ways, but the leader of the Grenada Revolution in real life was somebody that my mother knew and my aunt knew, and he had actually been in a relationship with one of my mom's cousins, which is where I got the idea for Felicity because I always wondered what it would be like to see your ex-boyfriend executed in front of the world and how you go on from that. So they used to hang out in London and go to protests. And a lot of the things that the characters in the book are doing, anti-apartheid protests, in particular, as well as anti-nuclear bomb protests. So I always heard about him that way; my mom used to laugh about how he would come to the house when he was a young law student and say, "Someday I'm going to be the Prime Minister of Grenada." And they'd go, "Ha, ha, ha, ha, right, right, right." He actually did it. And then also later on, after they had their coup in 1979, when they did take power, my real life uncle worked for the Grenada government as a constitutional advisor, trying to get them to adapt a constitution for their own circumstances. So I heard about that and then just generally I would hear about how the revolution was killed, I guess, by the United States invasion and kind of was a cautionary tale a little bit that they got a little bit too confident. They poked the bear, they provoked the United States and they brought this on themselves. It was kind of almost a lesson to be more realistic in your revolution, when you choose to have it.
CBC
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
3 'diverse' historical fiction novels that transport you to another time
Ever since she was a child, CBC Books associate producer and columnist Talia Kliot has been drawn to historical fiction. While she enjoys stories set in eras or places she already finds intriguing, what truly captivates her is the genre's ability to introduce readers to unfamiliar histories and cultures. "I like to look for books that are part of different time periods and different places that I don't necessarily know so much about," said Kliot. "The stuff that we don't always cover in school, the places that I've never been, or never even thought of exploring." The 2025 CBC Poetry Prize is now open For Kliot, historical fiction is more than escapism; it's a way to learn about the world through the lens of personal stories and lived experience. On The Next Chapter with Antonio Michael Downing, she shared three of her recent favourites — diverse novels set in different countries and time periods — and what she learned from them. The Paris Express by Emma Donoghue The Paris Express provides a vivid account of late 19th-century France, exploring the fears and desires of the time through a group of passengers — diverse in their social class, age and occupation, aboard the Granville-Paris express. The fascinating stories of the passengers, including a young boy traveling solo, a pregnant woman on the run, a medical student and the devoted railway workers, are woven around the central, suspenseful plot of a young anarchist on a mission. But this is no ordinary journey. The story unfolds on the day of the infamous 1895 French railway disaster. Donoghue is an Irish Canadian writer whose books include the novels Landing, Room, Frog Music, The Wonder, The Pull of the Stars, Learned by Heart and the children's book The Lotterys Plus One. Room was an international bestseller and was adapted into a critically acclaimed film starring Brie Larson. Talia Kliot says: "Trains in this period are new, they're exciting. [They] are the hot commodity. It connects all of Europe, the whole country. [Donoghue] just plops you in the head of each [of] the perspective of each of the characters... they all have such distinct personalities and perspectives. The humanness and the stuckness of all of them on this train really shines through, through the jumping of perspectives." In Finding Flora, Scottish newcomer to Canada, Flora, escapes her abusive husband to the Alberta prairie, determined to rebuild her life. But when a hostile government threatens their land and her violent husband is on the hunt for her, Flora forms a bond with her neighbours — a Welsh widow with three children, two American women raising chickens and a Métis woman training wild horses. United, the women come together to face their challenges. Elinor Florence is an author, journalist and member of the Métis Nation of B.C. Her debut novel was Bird's Eye View, and her second novel, Wildwood, was one of Kobo's Hundred Most Popular Canadian Books of All Time. Florence holds degrees in English and journalism. She grew up in Saskatchewan and currently lives in Invermere, B.C. Talia Kliot says: "It's really powerful to see these people of different backgrounds who don't necessarily all get along super well at the beginning, because they don't want to be lumped in together as the 'women homesteaders [who] all need help.' They want to prove that they can do it on their own, but end up finding such a powerful community and togetherness in the work that they're doing." The Immortal Woman by Su Chang In the novel The Immortal Woman, Lemei's daughter, Lin, struggles with distancing herself from her Chinese heritage while studying in America. At the same time, she is taken aback by her mother's increasing nationalism toward China — this shift is especially surprising considering her mother had once been a student Red Guard leader who had witnessed the atrocities of the Tiananmen Square protests. Su Chang is a Chinese Canadian writer born and raised in Shanghai. The Immortal Woman is her debut novel. Her writing has been recognized in numerous contests, including Prairie Fire's Short Fiction Contest, the Master Review's Novel Excerpt Contest and the Canadian Authors Association Toronto National Writing Contest, among the others. Talia Kliot says:"I really like how you're learning about history and a time period that, like, I really didn't know a lot about, but you're learning it through humans, through stories, through people that you can relate to. We're learning about politics, but you're getting such a human perspective, and this mother-daughter relationship that mothers and daughters can certainly relate to."
Telegraph
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Conn Iggulden: ‘All problems feel better if you sleep on them'
Conn Iggulden is one of the country's most successful authors of historical fiction. In 2007, he became the first person to top the UK fiction and non-fiction charts simultaneously with Wolf of the Plains and The Dangerous Book for Boys. Following years of rejection from publishing houses, he was set to quit writing at 28, but decided to send his first Julius Caesar-based novel to just one agent before throwing in the towel. Then, a bidding war ensued, allowing him to resign from his teaching job and write full-time. He has now published more than 30 books – his latest, Tyrant (Michael Joseph, £17.99), is the second of his Nero trilogy. He lives in Hertfordshire with his wife Ella and their four children. Best childhood memory? I have a very unusual background – my mother was a former nun for 20 years until the age of 34. She had a strong urge to have children and felt her time was running out, then had to leave Ireland because of the shame of breaking her vows. My paternal grandfather was born in 1850; he was 73 when my dad was born. It's absolutely crackers that I have photos of him with mutton-chop Victorian whiskers. My dad was an RAF bomber pilot during World War Two. Our family background meant history wasn't something found in books – I could just ask Dad because he'd lived through it, or Grandad had. History was more personal and relevant because of all the major world-changing events he could tell me about, and his tales got darker and more detailed as I got older. He was also one of the most relaxed men I've ever known because he'd expected to die as a young man, so everything else was a bonus. That made a big impression on me. I have two older brothers – David and John – from Dad's first marriage. David travelled the world with the Merchant Navy, and I remember one time he bizarrely brought me back a Chairman Mao cap with a red star on it. Best lesson you've learned? Go to sleep. When life is completely overwhelming, if you go to sleep, the next morning your problems may still be exactly the same, but you'll be better able to deal with them. My mother also taught me the importance of little moments of kindness, especially in marriage. Best role model? There was a lovely old married man called Walter who lived up our street in London. Sadly, he's long dead now, but I still think of him. Walter taught me how to play chess. He had a lot of time for me; he was like a surrogate grandfather. He was quite eccentric, walking everywhere barefoot. Mum was a little concerned at first, but she vetted him. We used to set up mock war games with wooden blocks on his lounge floor. It makes me sad that this sort of friendship would be really discouraged nowadays because of people's fears. I have four children of my own, so I get it, but I learned a lot from him. Best conditions for writing? I used to sit at my desk for eight hours a day, smoking as I went, to help me concentrate. When I quit, I thought I'd lost my knack because I could only manage about 100 words before I had to get up and wander around my attic room. But I got back to the flow eventually. I developed lower-back problems, so I got a standing desk. I used to write during funny hours, too, from midnight to 4am and then noon to 4pm. The main thing that stopped that was Amazon – they were constantly ringing my doorbell in the morning, when everyone else was out. This was before the advent of Ring doorbells. The only thing that has stayed the same is I need silence. I tried music, but my brain couldn't handle two things at once and it was irritating. Best part of your job? I love telling stories that I'm excited about because I know others will enjoy them too. When my publishers let me out on the road, and I meet my readers and get to see their instant response to my stories, that's just lovely. It's an absolute joy bringing history to life. Best advice you've ever been given? Be in the delivery room with your wife. I had an oddly old-fashioned idea (a little understandable given my very elderly parents and grandparents) that I'd be handing out cigars to strangers in the hospital car park. At the time I was head of English at a secondary school and a fellow teacher in the staffroom told me, 'Conn, speaking as a mother, you might be the only one in the delivery room who actually cares about your wife, so I would be in there if I was you.' This turned out to be very sound advice because the delivery went horribly wrong and it turned into an emergency caesarean. Our three other children were planned c-sections as a result. I jokingly said we should get a zip put in. Best career moment? I felt like I was on top of the world when The Dangerous Book for Boys (non-fiction) and Wolf of the Plains (fiction) were number-one in the charts at the same time. I'd fantasised about being a successful writer since I was a kid, so it mattered a great deal to me. The bonus was when The Dangerous Book for Boys was named Book of the Year at the British Book Awards in 2007. Thankfully, both my parents were alive when they got to see my initial success. When they died, I found they'd saved copies of everything I'd ever written, which was touching. Worst trait? I'm terrible at small talk. I'm really awful at social events and asking the basic questions, even though I hear my mother's voice reminding me to ask them. I started writing down people's details on a card if I was likely to see them again, but it went disastrously wrong when I bumped into an editor in Finland and I tried to persuade her that she had three children, not the two she was claiming to have. Unfortunately she didn't find it funny. Worst part of your job? When I was horse-riding in Mongolia in the footsteps of Genghis Khan, doing research for Wolf of the Plains, I developed dangerous saddle sores and couldn't undress without getting into a bath to soak everything off. It was grim. I was also told not to ask for a wooden Mongolian saddle, but a Russian saddle, which is partially leather with a hoop of iron that sticks out of the top for your reins. Let's just say that my awful riding skills meant I became intimately and painfully acquainted with that iron hoop – all while enduring -20°C weather. I'd never seen a landscape that vast. We ate a lot of mutton, which I quite liked. Hands-on research brings my books to life. Worst habit? I'm terrible at taking time off: I feel guilty, bored and I constantly think I should be doing something; I can't enjoy myself. I love writing – I work until there's practically blood on the page, but it's never as good as I imagined it to be. I set an incredibly high standard for myself, which can be very frustrating. Most authors may manage a book a year. My publishers have three books in hand, completely finished and copy edited. Worst piece of advice? I was in a French restaurant and wanted to try an Andouillette sausage. The waiter said, 'You may want to rethink that because it is the food of French peasants, Monsieur', but I insisted. What was served both looked, smelt and tasted like the last six inches of the faecal cavity of a cow. I valiantly kept chewing, wanting to save face, while my fellow diners suppressed their laughter, all while encouraging me. Eventually I had to admit defeat. I should have listened. Worst lesson you've needed to learn? I can't solve everybody's problems. Because if I do, I will infantilise the people around me, and you could drive yourself to exhaustion. Worst lesson from modern history? It's now too easy to forget what's happened in the past, given how much information we're bombarded with in our daily lives, which makes it easier to repeat mistakes. And one life can make an extraordinary difference. But overall, I try to keep things in perspective, otherwise every day would seem like the end of the world, given the news. My mellow dad used to say, 'Are you going to care about this in five years? If not, why on earth are you worrying about it now?' That helps keep sight of what's important. Worst pet peeve? People who hang poo bags on bushes. It drives me bananas. I have three dogs – a 16-year-old terrier, an eight-year-old black lab cross and a 14-year-old ridgeback crossed with a bull terrier – and I always pick up after them. Before Covid, when I had a sense of smell, I used to dry heave, but now that my sense of smell has almost disappeared, I can pick poo up like nobody's business on my walks. Worst moment in the public eye? There are many. Early in my career, when the first of my five-book series on Julius Caesar came out, I was doing a book talk with two Roman legionaries from the local re-enactment society – but only an elderly couple showed up. And I think they were just sitting down for a rest. Then, another time, I was speaking at the biggest bookshop in Singapore and a microphone was thrust at me, with the orders that I was to stop the crowds walking by outside (who were more interested in clothes shopping) by just talking. Worst fear for the future? I'm an optimist, so my worst fear is that I will be proved wrong.
