Rita Woods' The Edge of Yesterday is a riveting time-travel novel set in the Motor City

Set in Detroit in the present and a century earlier, Rita Woods’ gripping timeslip novel explores two people’s yearnings for a different future, the inexplicable link they share, and the ripple effects of seemingly small changes. In short: the more you mess with time, the more it’ll mess with you.

Formerly a member of a New York-based Black ballet company, Greer McKinney has returned with her husband, Bass, to Detroit after distressing neurological symptoms made her quit working. Temporarily staying in one of her wealthy in-laws’ properties, Greer despairs over her life amid escalating arguments with Bass.

Then one day, while on her way to visit a friend, she gets briefly zapped into the past – the special effects feel disorientingly real – and glimpses a bustling street scene and a tall man in old-fashioned clothing.

In 1925, Dr. Montgomery “Monty” Gray is a member of the “Talented Tenth,” a group of well-educated, socially aware Black leaders. With this role comes responsibilities, including marrying his best friend Aggie, a woman within his class. Racial strife is heating up, and when a gangster crashes their engagement party, challenging people to rise up against whites who terrorize African Americans who cross the color line, Monty foresees a terrible reckoning.

Greer’s startling trips back to 1925, which she comes to seek out, are mutually valued. Monty is amazed to learn a Black man will be President, while Greer’s health improves every time she returns home to 2025. Problem is, other aspects of her life change, too.

Both storylines are individually interesting, and the plot and atmosphere turn electric when they intersect. One small criticism: the book wraps up too quickly. While illustrating the vitality of the early 20th-century Black Bottom-Paradise Valley neighborhood, which was demolished decades later for redevelopment, Woods delivers an exciting work of speculative fiction with many hard-to-predict twists.

The Edge of Yesterday was published by Forge in late April, and I reviewed it for May's Historical Novels Review. I've heard little about this novel in historical fiction circles, and it's worth checking out!  Read more about the history of Paradise Valley in the online Encyclopedia of Detroit and in the Black Bottom Digital Archive.  I'd previously reviewed the author's debut, Remembrance, after its publication in 2020.

The spirit and the flesh: Emily Maguire's Rapture

Emily Maguire’s Rapture is an entrancing vision of a woman who unexpectedly rises to the height of influence in an exclusively male realm: the Roman Catholic church in the early Middle Ages.

This new reinterpretation of the legend of Pope Joan explores the meanings of its title – spiritual, intellectual, and physical fulfillment – in the life of its subject, who finds she can’t deny her humanity and womanhood (“Oh, tiresome, greedy, needful body!”) while satisfying her cravings for scholarly nourishment. 

The book is subdivided into sections whose headings come from a 13th-century chronicle, and I appreciated this nod to the limited record of her perhaps-existence. In 820s Mainz in the Frankish realm, Agnes, daughter of a man known as the English Priest and a pagan woman who died in childbirth, grows up absorbing the discussions in her father’s household, and the contents of his vast library, while viewing the wonders of nature.

The arrival of a young Benedictine monk, Brother Randulf, the most talented scribe at the Abbey of Fulda, shakes up her world. To her astonishment and pleasure, he acknowledges her thoughts have value and treats her like an equal. After her father’s death, Agnes asks him to take her to Fulda, in male disguise, so she can contemplate her learnings at leisure… or so she hopes.

This begins a deception that takes her from Fulda to the outskirts of Athens and at last to Rome, where her growing reputation leads her to become the right hand of Pope Leo IV. The violent impact of the Carolingian Civil War, when Charlemagne’s grandsons battled for control of land and empire, comes through well, as does the incessant politicking (which Agnes dislikes) within the pope’s inner circle.

Spiritually rich without being preachy or dense with theological arguments, the writing is a delight to read. It's an excellent vehicle for Agnes’s dramatic journey. We’re treated throughout to Agnes’s wise observations on her patriarchal environment, thanks to her unique viewpoint. “It is a revelation,” she thinks about the tedious rules and enforced humility of monastery life, “that these men struggle and need constant correcting in order to live as women must.” The ending, which fits with the Pope Joan legend, is transcendent.

Rapture was published by Sceptre in the UK, and by Allen & Unwin in Australia. In the US, the UK edition is sold on Kindle, which is how I purchased my copy. My choice to read this novel was inspired by recent news on papal history following the death of Pope Francis, as well as (related) the film Conclave, which I saw on Prime last weekend. I suspect Rapture will get an unintentional boost in readership thanks to world events!

The Director, inspired by a true story, details one man's moral compromises in artistic creation

Smarting after a Hollywood flop, Austrian-born director G. W. Pabst, a Weimar cinema pioneer, returned to Europe. Trapped in Austria while visiting his mother when WWII broke out, he became enmeshed in Goebbels’ propaganda machine.

Kehlmann (Tyll, 2020) uses this outline to construct a dark account of one man’s descent into fascist complicity, a path strewn with surrealistic scenarios and chilling self-justifications in favor of art.

The perspective shifts with each chapter, which keeps readers hyper-focused on each nightmarish step. The family’s Nazi-sympathizing caretaker at their Austrian home tyrannizes them; Pabst’s son Jakob begins bullying others. Pabst’s despairing wife, Trude, reluctantly joins an oppressive book club.

Ambitious yet passive, Pabst voices objections to working for the Reich but soon falls into line. “But once you get used to it and know the rules,” a colleague tells him, “you feel almost free.” The prologue foreshadows a mystery about his making of the film The Molander Case, and the reveal is shocking. 

While it takes many fictional liberties, Kehlmann’s novel is purposefully unnerving and timely.

The Director, translated by Ross Benjamin, will be published by Simon & Schuster/Summit Books on May 6th, and I wrote this review for the April issue of Booklist.

The original German title is Lichtspiel ("Light-Play"), an older term used to refer to motion pictures, but which also has symbolic meaning for this novel. You can read an illuminating interview with Kehlmann at Hungarian Literature Online. As hinted in the review and in the interview, if you're expecting a fictional biography of Pabst, be aware that the storyline does diverge from his real life (and his family's) in multiple instances. 

Bits and pieces of historical fiction news

Here are some articles and other news items that caught my attention in the last week.

The 2025 Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction shortlist is out.  The winner of this £25,000 Prize will be announced on June 12th at Abbotsford, the country house which was Scott's home in the Scottish Borders.

The Heart in Winter, Kevin Barry (Canongate/Doubleday US) - 1890s Montana

The Mare, Angharad Hampshire (Northodox Press) - 1950s New York

The Book of Days, Francesca Kay (Swift Press) - Tudor England 

Glorious Exploits, Ferdia Lennon (Fig Tree/St. Martin's) - ancient Greece

The Land in Winter, Andrew Miller (Sceptre) - 1962/63 England

The Safekeep, Yael van der Wouden (Viking UK/Avid Reader) - postwar Holland

No Americans on the list this time, but half of the shortlist were published in the US, and two of the novels, The Heart in Winter and The Mare, are set here. You can read the judges' comments, with short plot synopses, at the link above.

On Jane Friedman's blog, author Laura Stanfill has a guest post explaining how she raised the stakes in her historical novel by following an editor's advice and moving a secondary character into the protagonist's chair.  Read more at "Trust Your Instincts: Why Writing for Yourself Leads to Better Books."

In Welcome to Censorship, author Vanessa Riley speaks about how she was using the design tool Canva to develop slides for promoting her upcoming historical novel when the software flagged the word "enslaved," which describes her protagonist, as unsupported usage because it appeared to be "a political topic." Very disturbing.

From Sarah McCraw Crow's Substack, An Unfinished Story, the latest in her Midlife Author series is an interview with historical novelist Jane Healey about becoming debut author in her 40s, what it takes to pursue a writing career long-term, and the challenges she's faced.

Alina Adams, whose historical novel Go On Pretending is out on May 1st, writes about the ways she had success obtaining preorders, and where these attempts didn't work.

In the industry, people are getting mixed messages about the category "women's fiction."  Editors aren't using the term, preferring "relationship fiction" or "book club fiction" instead.  Agents are moving away from it too.  But many writers and writers' associations embrace its usage, and the BISAC category of Fiction/Women still remains. You'll find the BISAC codes for books used by retailers like Amazon, digital catalogs like Edelweiss, and more. Read much more at Heather Garbo's Substack, Write Your Next Chapter.  Her post, which examines relevant book deal announcements from Publishers Marketplace, also looks at the overlap between historical and women's fiction, and how books that fall into both categories may be labeled as one but not the other, making it hard to locate all new releases comprehensively. I'm always interested in avenues for discoverability for historical fiction, so I appreciated this post.

Isabel Allende's My Name Is Emilia del Valle adds a new angle to her ongoing family saga

Allende has created many addictive sagas about the extended del Valle family and their intersections with history and one another. The eponymous Emilia, Allende’s addition to this notable clan, is one adventurous, gutsy woman.

The illegitimate daughter of a Chilean aristocrat and the Irish novice nun he seduced, Emilia grows up in San Francisco with her loving stepfather’s support, intrepidly working around gender restrictions. After penning dime novels pseudonymously, she becomes a human-interest columnist for the Daily Examiner and wangles an assignment as international correspondent for the impending Chilean Civil War of 1891, under her own byline.

Emilia’s first meeting with her long-lost father in Santiago is quite moving, and her time with the canteen girls who accompany President Balmaceda’s army echoes with their unsung courage. Allende expertly navigates through the violent chaos of battle and how it affects Emilia, whose romantic relationships also showcase her character growth.

Fans of Allende’s now-classic Daughter of Fortune (1999) and Portrait in Sepia (2000) will particularly welcome this offering, which is replete with Allende’s customary poetic storytelling.

My Name Is Emilia del Valle will be published by Ballantine in May; the translator is Frances Riddle.  I contributed this review for Booklist's March issue.

I recommended this especially for readers of Allende's earlier novels because it's a new entry in the Del Valle saga, but mostly since significant characters from Daughter of Fortune and its sequel appear here too, which was a nice surprise.  No spoilers here, but I'll be curious to see what other readers think about how this novel ends.

Are you missing the Tudor era? Check out these ten recent and upcoming novels

Are you a historical fiction fan looking back fondly on the years of Tudormania, when novels set in 16th-century England (especially about the royals) were eagerly scooped up by publishers?  The good news is these books are still around, in smaller quantities perhaps, but novelists are still writing them, and readers still want them. During these fraught political times, when it's necessary to escape the news headlines periodically for one's own sanity, I've been finding myself gravitating toward earlier historical settings more often, including the Tudor era. Here are ten recent books set then, and I'll be posting reviews of many in the coming months. 

A story of politics, philosophy, and gender-bending intrigue featuring Alexander "Sander" Cooke, a young man famed for playing female roles in Shakespeare's plays in Elizabethan London, and his best friend Joan, restricted from intellectual circles because she's a woman. William Morrow, Feb. 2025.

Jane (Parker) Boleyn, who has featured previously in the author's The Boleyn Inheritance and others, gets the full-length treatment in Gregory's next novel. Her return to the Tudor era explores Jane's motivations for her notorious actions. This is the US cover, perhaps designed to attract dark romantasy fans?  HarperCollins, Oct. 2025.

This is the first historical novel I'm aware of about Mark Smeaton, the court musician accused of committing adultery with Queen Anne Boleyn (a treasonous act) and executed along with others caught up in the plot against Anne. His personal story is little known.  SparkPress, May 2025.

A modern woman visiting an old Tudor mansion in Norfolk comes upon the story of Anne Dacre, later Countess of Arundel. She loses her beloved younger brother, perhaps at her stepfather's hands, and fights to take revenge.  Boldwood, March 2025.

A trio of enterprising women band together to write poetry and plays secretly, and ask a certain rakish actor to pose as the author when their scheming attracts unwanted attention.  This sounds like a fun spin on the "Shakespeare authorship" theme oft-expressed in historical fiction. Alcove Press, July 2025. 

In this debut novel, Robert Smythson, the English architect famed for his design of Hardwick Hall, Wollaton Hall, and other Elizabethan manor houses, looks into a suspicious death discovered during the rebuilding of Longleat in Wiltshire. Glowing Log Books, Sept. 2024.

Another lesser-known Tudor personage claims the spotlight here: Anne, daughter of Henry VIII's good friend Charles Brandon, whose story of marital turmoil and clandestine romance is intertwined with that of a modern heiress and a remote country house in both women's lives.  Boldwood, Jan. 2025.

Knowing Alison Weir's familiarity with Tudor-era notables, "the Cardinal" here could be none other than Thomas Wolsey, Henry VIII's right-hand man (until he notably fell from grace). She explores his surprising career and personal life, including his affections for his longtime mistress.  Ballantine, May 2025.

Lady Margaret Clifford is a Tudor heir you may not have heard of; she was a granddaughter of Henry VIII's younger sister, Mary.  The novel details the political, religious, and romantic intrigue surrounding Margaret as the English throne passes to Lady Jane Grey and then Mary I.  This is first in a three-book series about women from the period. Sapere, Dec. 2024.

From the cover design and title, you might surmise that Wertman's latest Tudor novel retells the younger years of the future Elizabeth I in a narrative of hard-won wisdom and survival.  I enjoyed her novel The Boy King, about Elizabeth's half-brother, Edward VI.  Independently published, May 2025.

Haunting deceptions: Beth Ford's In the Time of Spirits

In the Time of Spirits is a novel of the late 19th-century spiritualist movement, seen from the perspective of those who performed seances for gullible audiences. Its plot takes unpredictable, often confounding turns, much like its strong-minded heroine. Are her actions irritating or all too fitting? They certainly offer much to think about!

After losing her parents in a house fire in Washington, DC, 22-year-old Adalinda (Addy) Cohart inherits a tidy sum. Although she’s grateful for the support of her longtime suitor, Arthur Simmons, Addy doesn’t want to wed anyone. She adores Marie Corelli’s mystical novels and sees mediums as important role models for independent, adventurous women.

Her interests lead her to New York City, alongside a female travel companion, and into the company of William Fairley, the handsome and charismatic assistant to the renowned Mrs. Alexi, whose spiritual talents seem fully plausible to the innocent Addy. Before long, Addy marries William, despite her previous aversion to wedlock, then accompanies him to London following an invite from a spiritualist organization. After being introduced to the secret tricks of his trade, Addy faces a life-changing choice.

The author’s smooth prose, unencumbered by elaborate descriptions, ensures a fast-paced read as Addy figures out what she wants and what she can tolerate. The text is so sparing of details, though, that the settings feel generic. Aside from notable landmarks, Manhattan, London, and Paris of the 1890s appear much the same. The theatrical performances Addy attends and the museum she visits remain nameless. The exceptions are the seances themselves. Rather selfish and a poor friend to others, Addy is often an unlikeable protagonist. However, by the dramatic turns of the finale, one might argue she is a memorable one.

This novel was published by Peony Books (the author's imprint) in 2024, and I wrote the review originally for the Historical Novels Review. The subject matter intrigued me, and so did the characters, even as their actions kept me guessing about where the plot was leading.  I learn new things about authors' approaches to historical fiction with every book I read, and so it was with this book. Readers new to the genre might not mind or notice the absence of place-specific details, though this aspect stood out for me. I'd still read more by the same author, who has written other historicals as well.