Neo-Victorian Voices: Libertie, Kaitlyn Greenidge (2021)

Most of the twenty-first century written, nineteenth century set novels I’ve read, which are centered on the Black experience in the United States, have focused on the horrors of slavery (see for example, my reviews of Sadeqa Johnson’s Yellow Wife, Sue Monk Kidd’s The Invention of Wings, Dolen Perkins-Valdez’s Wench, and Valerie Martin’s Property). Freedom was presented as a goal, a dream, and a destination for the characters in many of these books, with little page space given over to what freedom looked like, or even could look like, for African Americans during and after the Civil War. 

As the title of Kaitlyn Greenidge’s 2021 novel, Libertie, suggests, this is a book all about freedom. Our title character is a freeborn, Black girl in nineteenth-century Brooklyn. As a child, she witnesses her mother’s role in the Underground Railroad, smuggling enslaved people to the North in coffins. And as she grows and matures, Libertie grapples more and more with what freedom means to her. Is true liberty possible in a country so divided along race lines? Could real freedom mean starting over in the Black-led nation of Haiti? And can she shake free of the life her mother, a white-passing, Black, woman doctor, planned for her? 

This all sounds very lofty, and the novel does deal with complex history and difficult themes, but at the core of Libertie is this quieter story about the fraught, but loving, relationship between mother and daughter. At times I was frustrated with Libertie’s perspective, especially in her teenage years, but Greenidge’s depictions of the misunderstandings between the protagonist and her mother have a sharply observed psychological realism. Libertie has other important relationships too—with the grieving escapee she sees her mother “raise from the dead” at the book’s opening, with a pair of singing, Black, women college students, who she eventually realizes are romantically linked to each other, and with the Haitian man whom she marries—but it is the mother/daughter bond that makes this a compelling character-driven read.

Those who enjoy the intersection of historical fact and fiction may also want to learn more about the inspiration for the character of Libertie’s mother in the novel—Dr. Susan Smith McKinney-Steward, who was the third Black woman to earn a medical degree in the United States. 

Which nineteenth century set novel would you like to see me review next as part of my Neo-Victorian Voices series? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. 

Neo-Victorian Voices: The Invention of Wings, Sue Monk Kidd (2014)

In my Neo-Victorian Voices series, I review novels set in the nineteenth-century, but written in the twenty-first. This week, it’s the turn of Sue Monk Kidd’s 2014 novel, The Invention of Wings.

The book tells the story of Sarah Grimké, based on a real abolitionist from Charleston, and Handful, a fictional character born into slavery in the Grimkés’ household. On her eleventh birthday, Sarah’s parents “gift” her the ten-year-old Handful. Already disgusted by slavery, Sarah tries to reject her “present”, marking the start of a long and complex relationship between the enslaved Handful and her reluctant “mistress”.

Handful is a compelling character and her relationship with her mother, Charlotte, was my favourite part of the novel. Charlotte, a skilled seamstress, creates story quilts telling the history of her life and those of her African ancestors and repeats fables to Handful passed down by her own mother—among them the idea that they once had wings. Handful, despite her captivity and the horrific experiences she goes through, is active in her own story. She’s more decisive than Sarah and I found myself looking forward to returning to her point of view.

Sarah, as a child, is a driven character too, longing to become a lawyer and certain in her opinions. But she spends much of the novel knocked back and unsure how to act. For me, her eventual triumph, as she and her sister tour the North lecturing in support of abolition, was a little rushed. I would have liked to see more of her coming into her own. I also wondered about her struggles with her cultural inheritance. While I know there were those born into white, slave owning families, who abhorred the “institution”, it was harder to believe that Sarah wouldn’t have internalised any of the racism around her.

Kidd’s prose is beautiful and her research shines in all the best ways as she tackles a terrible period of American history. As a writer of historical fiction, I particularly enjoyed her author’s note detailing the decisions she made and the true stories that inspired her creation of Handful. 

Overall, as with other novels about American slavery I’ve read, like Valerie Martin’s wonderful Property (2003) and Dolen Perkins-Valdez's heartbreaking Wench (2010), The Invention of Wings at times makes for painful reading, but I think fiction like this still plays a powerful role in bringing a human voice to the facts we read about in history books.

Which novel would you like to see me review next as part of my Neo-Victorian Voices series? Let me know—here, on Instagram, on Facebook, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. Have you read my novel, Bronte’s Mistress, yet? It’s available in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook now, and the paperback will be published next month! For monthly updates on my writing and blog, sign up for my email newsletter below.

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Neo-Victorian Voices: Wench, Dolen Perkins-Valdez (2010)

Content warning: sexual assault; abortion

Reading novels about slavery in the nineteenth-century American South can be a gruelling experience, but Dolen Perkins-Valdez hits all the right notes in her 2010 Wench—the story of four enslaved black women who accompany their Southern masters to an Ohio vacation resort in the 1850s.

Lizzie, our protagonist, feels she loves her master, Drayle. He’s the father of her two children and he’s taught her to read and write, as well as giving her a better quality of life than that of the field slaves. But it seems unlikely that he’ll free her, or his children, and Lizzie is struggling with her own desire for independence and autonomy.

The other three women have their own battles to contend with. Mawu wants her master dead. Sweet’s pregnant—again. And Reenie’s master (who’s also her half-brother) is ‘sharing’ her with the owner of the Tawawa House resort.

With whispers of the abolition movement reaching the women, and salvation tantalisingly close in free Ohio, all four must decide whether and how to take control of their lives and what they’d risk or give up to taste freedom.

Dolen Perkins-Valdez

Perkins-Valdez does a wonderful job of teasing out the nuanced reactions to slavery from all her characters—free and enslaved, white and black. Drayle’s wife Fran is a particularly complex supporting character, reminding me of Valerie Martin’s 2003 Property, which I reviewed previously. But the four women described as their masters’ ‘wenches’ are the focus, with Lizzie’s personal emotional arc at the heart of the novel.

Some moments are difficult to read. There are descriptions of multiple sexual assaults, including one instance of rape while a character is still bleeding from terminating a pregnancy. And, while the physical violence isn’t as constant as in some depictions of slavery based largely on plantations (e.g. Twelve Years a Slave), there are several scenes of corporal punishment that aren’t for the faint-hearted.

The relationships between the women—tender and multi-faceted—though are what kept me reading (at speed). They’re believable and oh so human, even providing moments of levity and joy in this unflinching depiction of a dark and dangerous time.

What novel would you like to see the Secret Victorianist review next as part of my Neo-Victorian Voices series? Let me know—here, on Facebook, or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

Highlights from the Historical Novel Society North American Conference (HNSNA) 2019, Oxon Hill, Maryland

I’ve been blogging about historical fiction for the last six years, and, in 2020, my own debut historical novel, Brontë’s Mistress, will be published by Atria Books (more on this here). So this June I was delighted to attend the biannual North American conference run by the Historical Novel Society (HNS) and to connect with other lovers and writers of historical fiction there.

This year (the first year I’ve attended) the conference was held in the Gaylord National Resort and Convention Center, just outside Washington DC. We enjoyed keynotes from Dolen Perkins-Valdez and Jeff Shaara, period-specific panels and talks on everything from the roaring 20s to the Romanovs to French revolutionaries, and insights from agents and editors with a focus on #HistFic. In true historical fashion, attendees also donned their best period costumes for drinks, a banquet and a ball, while some tested their skills in swordsmanship.

In this post I wanted to share some of my personal highlights from the conference (if I can decipher the handwriting in my notebook!).

“Extraordinary women in extraordinary times"

This is how Rachel Kahan, Executive Editor at William Morrow, summed up the current landscape in historical fiction in the opening State of the State of the HF Industry roundtable. This phrase struck me and set the stage for many of the talks I enjoyed over the weekend. As a writer who focuses on real women who have been overlooked in the historical record, I love this descriptor!

“People are interested in how art is made”

Carrie Callaghan and Laura Morelli led a coffee discussion about historical fiction based on the lives of artists and the challenges of ekphrastic writing (i.e. describing a piece of visual art through words). Two ideas stayed with me from this session. First, writers and artists both experience an absorption in their work while creating. Writing about this feeling and process can be fascinating. Second, it can be difficult for a writer to balance featuring their artist character doing menial work with the tensions that come from interpersonal conflict. Any time you can combine the two will serve you well.

“Where the archive is silent"

Writer and keynote speaker Dolen Perkins-Valdez was the most eloquent speaker of the conference. Almost everything she said was tweetable/quotable. I loved how she described the work of the historical novelist as speaking “where the archive is silent”, as it mirrors my own writing experience, where I strive to be true to the historical record but get most excited where there’s a mystery I can speculate on. I also thought the writing exercise she suggested was genius. She urged us to write the same scene set in 1750, 1850 and 1950 without conducting any new research to demonstrate how much we already know and feel about different periods without being weighed down by the burden of history.

“The paranormal circumvents societal propriety”

Gaslamps, Ghosts & Tropes, a discussion between Nicole Evelina, Clarissa Harwood, Leanna Renee Hieber and Kris Waldherr, on Gothic novels, was my favourite panel of the conference. Hieber’s argument that paranormal activity (whether ‘real’ or imagined) allows characters in historical periods with stricter social etiquettes to step outside their normal boundaries was particularly resonant.

“You need to feel that anyone could win”

The second keynote speaker, Jeff Shaara, specialises, like his late father, the Pulitzer Prize winning Michael Shaara, in depicting famous conflicts, from the Revolutionary War to the American Civil War to the World Wars, from multiple character perspectives. I loved his advice that for a novel like this to be successful the reader has to feel that the outcome of the battle is anything but certain, even if they know the winner in reality.

“There are practical reasons to write dual time periods”

Another great panel was led by Kate Quinn and Beatriz Williams on the topic of historical novels that alternate between at least two periods (one of which may be contemporary). I’ve reviewed novels in the past (e.g. Meredith Jaeger’s The Dressmaker’s Dowry) which have struggled to pull off this structure but I’m fascinated by its current popularity. Quinn and Williams mentioned some practical reasons why writers might want to consider this structure: novels like this can be shelved in several areas of the bookstore and/or appear in multiple sections of Amazon, a dual narrative can help you sell a novel featuring a ‘less popular’ period of history and the inclusion of a modern perspective can make historical fiction less intimidating for infrequent readers of the genre. Fascinating stuff!

Meeting all the people

The biggest highlight of the conference was meeting fellow writers with a passion for depicting the past. I spoke to so many people! It was most exciting to spend time with Elizabeth Blackwell, as we share the same literary agent, and ‘Twitter friends’ who I was finally able to meet in person.

Buying all the books

Warning: there’s a side effect of going to a conference like this. I now have SO MANY new novels on my #TBR (to be read) list. Here’s a peek into what titles have made it onto my bedside table already:

On a Cold Dark Sea, Elizabeth Blackwell

A Light of Her Own, Carrie Callaghan

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter, Hazel Gaynor

A Lady of Good Family, Jeanne Mackin

Wench, Dolen Perkins-Valdez

The Lost History of Dreams, Kris Waldherr

Were you at the HNS conference? What did you think? Or do you have any questions about attending a writing conference in the future? Let me know—here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

P.S. Want an inside peek at my writing and non-writing life? You can now follow finola_austin on Instagram!