Tag: historical fiction book review

Review: Crossingsbrook Georgians by L. Gale

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

In Crossingsbrook Georgians: the crossingsbrook series prequel, the back-story is told to the series, explaining how the Reverend and Clara James met, how Dr. Walton and Lady Greenfield met, the impacts of war and loss on Victor’s youth and young adulthood, the childhood friendship of Beatrice and Clara, and Beatrice’s experiences raising children that were not hers by birth. Also featured is a romantic episode between a freed slave and a free-born individual. Readers discover some of the better medical treatments available at the turn of the 19th Century, and the psychological impact that astronomical events may have had on ordinary individuals, if only by the power of suggestion. This novella fills in seventeen years, or nearly a generation, of the early lives of some of the key Crossingsbrook villagers, and introduces others who will have larger roles to play later in the series. All is told against a backdrop of the impacts of technology, legislation and cultural developments in Britain of the time.

Favorite Lines:

“After all, we’re entering the modern era now, and many people consider affection between a couple to be more important than the marriage of bank accounts and bloodlines.”

“When Victor left to return to school, Constance temporarily ruined the dog in his absence by dressing him up often in doll clothes, such that when his master returned for Eastertide and summertime of 1804, a good many hunts were required to recover the canine’s sense of masculinity.”

“Though the comet apparently did not end the world, it might have been said to have coincided with the ending of the old earth…”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

Crossingsbrook Georgians is one of those historical novels that is less interested in sweeping drama than in making you feel like you’ve been dropped into the everyday life of a small community. And honestly, I think that’s where it works best.

The story begins in 1798 with Lady Clara Godfrey, the daughter of a bishop who has been promised since childhood to another young bishop, Bernard Bartholomew. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Bernard is exactly the sort of man you’d hope Clara doesn’t end up marrying. He’s irritable, self-important, and generally unpleasant to have around. Clara’s father’s household staff seem to agree, and their efforts to make his visit as uncomfortable as possible give the opening chapters a surprisingly funny, slightly mischievous energy.

But the heart of the story quickly becomes Clara and Theodore “Theo” James, her father’s chaplain and secretary. Their relationship has a very gentle quality to it. These are two people who already know each other well and genuinely like one another, so their connection feels rooted in friendship and familiarity rather than instant attraction. Theo is also much more interested in actually serving people than in climbing the church hierarchy, which eventually brings Crossingsbrook itself into the center of the story.

And Crossingsbrook really does become a character of its own.

Once the story settles into the village, the book expands into something closer to a family and community chronicle. We see parish life, births and marriages, funerals, holidays, dinners, church gatherings, household routines and the small dramas that come from living in a place where everyone knows everyone else. There are even things like a village magic lantern show and excitement over early steam transportation, which I enjoyed because they make the historical setting feel lived in rather than simply decorative.

The Greenfield family becomes especially important as the book progresses. After tragedy strikes Greenfield Hall, Lady Beatrice steps into a family situation she wasn’t exactly prepared for, including caring for young Victor and his baby sister. Victor’s grief is handled with more patience than I expected. He’s angry and somewhat wild at first, and the adults around him don’t immediately try to force him into behaving as though nothing happened. His friendship with the newly arrived Dr. Rex Walton is particularly sweet and becomes an important source of stability for him.

Beatrice was probably one of the more entertaining characters for me. She’s proper and particular, but not nearly as stuffy as she initially seems. Her interactions with Rex add another little thread of romantic tension, while her attempts to figure out how to suddenly become responsible for two children give her some much needed vulnerability.

There’s also a longstanding feud between the Greenfields and Fairhavens running quietly through the background. I liked that the book doesn’t immediately turn this into some huge melodramatic conflict. Instead, you start noticing little cracks in the wall between the families, particularly as the younger generation grows up. By the later portion of the book, you can pretty clearly see how these relationships and old grudges are laying groundwork for whatever comes next in the Crossingsbrook series.

One thing readers should know going in is that this isn’t really structured like a conventional historical romance with one central couple and one major conflict driving everything toward a climax. It’s much more episodic. Years pass, children grow up, people leave for school, historical events creep into village life, families change, and characters who seemed secondary earlier become increasingly important. In that sense, it really does feel like a prequel. Its job is to introduce the families, relationships, history and little bits of baggage that will matter later.

There’s also quite a lot of historical detail woven throughout. Religion plays a particularly large role because Theo is a clergyman and Clara is a bishop’s daughter, but the book also touches on education, class, household servants, medicine, technology, politics, village traditions and changing social attitudes. Occasionally the historical information becomes more prominent than the plot itself, so readers who want a fast, tightly plotted story may find the pacing leisurely. But if you’re someone who likes the everyday details of another era, there’s a lot here to enjoy.

What I liked most was probably the sense of continuity. You aren’t just watching one romance happen. You’re watching a community take shape across years. People marry, have children, lose people they love, grow older and gradually hand more of the story over to the next generation. By the end, characters we first encountered as children are moving into adulthood with histories and relationships that already feel established. It makes Crossingsbrook Georgians feel less like a standalone adventure and more like opening an old family album and finally learning the stories behind all the people in it.

Summary: Overall, Crossingsbrook Georgians is a gentle, character driven Georgian historical novel that follows several interconnected families in the village of Crossingsbrook beginning in the late 1790s. There’s romance, family life, grief, village gossip, religion, old family rivalries and a surprising amount of everyday historical detail. Readers who enjoy gentle, character driven historical fiction where the pleasure comes from spending time in a community and watching relationships develop over years, rather than racing through a single dramatic plot may enjoy this book. Happy reading!

Check out Crossingsbrook Georgians here!

 

Review: A Cakewalk to Memphis by Brenda C. Wilson

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

In the sweltering summer of 1958, the Jim Crow South is a landscape defined by danger, secrecy, and the need to survive.

A Cakewalk to Memphis, the debut novel by Charlotte-based author Brenda Wilson, follows Big Sallie Morning, a determined Black cleaning woman from Memphis who becomes caught up in a desperate search for her pregnant niece’s missing husband. What starts as a personal mission quickly turns into a dangerous journey across a segregated South, where each bus stop presents new risks and every encounter holds hidden significance.

Big Sallie is a force of nature. Intelligent, observant, and shaped by a past she has never fully escaped, she navigates a world of smoky nightclubs, backroom gambling halls, bootlegging routes, and counterfeit schemes operating just beneath everyday life. As she seeks answers, she is also forced to confront buried parts of her own history, including the reputation that follows her from town to town.

Brenda Wilson vividly details the era with rich Southern textures. The novel moves through dry county beer joints with deceptively cheerful names, crowded juke joints where blues music carries both joy and sorrow, and a society defined by strict racial boundaries and constant danger. Each setting reveals another layer of a world where survival depends on quick thinking, tough choices, and knowing when to speak up or remain silent.

Inspired by family stories, including an aunt who was jailed in the 1940s and a cousin who became a blues singer, Wilson weaves personal history into a broader story of resilience and reckoning. Cakewalk to Memphis is a compelling historical novel about one woman’s journey through a fractured time and the strong pull of truth, memory, and responsibility.

Favorite Lines:

“Folks talked. There wasn’t much else in small towns except work, church, and gossip.”

“A woman has the right to some secrets.”

“She knew women who were willing to do anything to keep a man. But it was loneliness and the absence of love. The lucky ones learned that it was sorrow masquerading as love before it was too late.”

“I chose who I wanted to be.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

A Cakewalk to Memphis hooked me pretty quickly because Big Sallie Morning is such a great character to follow. She’s stubborn, funny, suspicious of basically everyone, deeply religious but not exactly saintly, and carrying around enough regret to fill the battered bag she takes with her across Alabama.

The story is set in 1958 and follows Sallie as she leaves Memphis to track down Tony Earley, the missing husband of her pregnant niece, Rebecca. Sallie already doesn’t trust Tony, and she has a very personal reason for being terrified that Rebecca is about to repeat the mistakes she made when she was young. Twenty years earlier, Sallie went looking for her own husband after he disappeared and that decision ended with her serving ten years in prison. So when Rebecca becomes desperate to find Tony, Sallie decides she’s going to get to him first.

I loved that this isn’t really a straightforward “find the missing husband” story. Sallie’s search takes her into juke joints, boarding houses, gambling, whiskey running, blues clubs and some genuinely dangerous situations. Pretty early on, she realizes Tony hasn’t simply wandered off. He’s tangled up with people who have money, secrets, and very little interest in a middle-aged woman from Memphis asking questions.

But the mystery was almost secondary for me because Sallie herself is so interesting. She is constantly judging everyone else’s bad choices while very clearly trying to outrun her own. She’s found religion, stopped drinking, traded her old clothes for church dresses, and would very much like to believe the woman she used to be no longer exists. Except that woman keeps showing up. Sometimes literally, when Sallie finds herself back in places and around people that remind her exactly who she once was. Her friendship with Annabelle especially brings that out because Annabelle knew her before she was “saved” and isn’t particularly interested in letting Sallie rewrite history.

There’s also a really interesting generational piece to the story. Sallie thinks she’s protecting Rebecca, but a lot of what she’s doing is actually about trying to prevent her niece from becoming her. That creates this tension between wanting to save someone you love and realizing that you can’t make their choices for them. Sallie’s past marriage, her prison sentence, her relationship with her family, and even the things she has never told Rebecca keep circling back into the present.

The setting is another huge strength. This book feels very rooted in Memphis and rural Alabama in the late 1950s. You get buses and railroad towns, dusty roads, church fans, rooming houses, jukeboxes, blues singers, cheap beer, cigarette smoke, cotton fields and neon spilling out of juke joints. There’s music running through the whole thing too, with blues and jazz becoming part of the atmosphere rather than just historical name dropping. At the same time, the book never lets you forget how dangerous this particular journey is for a Black woman traveling alone in the Jim Crow South. Sallie’s awareness of where she can go, who she can trust, and when she needs to keep her head down is always sitting underneath the story.

I also appreciated that Sallie isn’t written to be endlessly admirable. She lies. She steals. She meddles. She carries knives around and has a slightly alarming willingness to use them. She can be judgmental and hypocritical, and she has a habit of convincing herself she’s doing things entirely for somebody else’s benefit when guilt is obviously pushing her just as hard. But that messiness is exactly why she worked for me. She feels like someone who has lived a whole life before page one.

The book does get a little busy once more characters and old relationships start coming into the story. There were moments where I had to remind myself who was connected to whom, and some of the plot developments get pretty dramatic. But I was invested enough in Sallie that I didn’t mind much. The larger question of whether she can actually protect Rebecca without first dealing with her own past kept the story grounded for me.

Summary:

Overall, A Cakewalk to Memphis feels like historical fiction crossed with a Southern mystery, with a little noir and a lot of family drama mixed in. It’s funny in places, genuinely tense in others, and much more interested in complicated women than perfect ones. Sallie’s journey starts as an attempt to find one missing man, but underneath that is a story about guilt, faith, motherhood, secrets, and how difficult it is to keep the people you love from making mistakes of their own. Readers who enjoy Southern historical fiction, strong older female protagonists, family secrets, historical mysteries, blues and Memphis settings, and books about complicated women trying to make peace with who they used to be may enjoy this one. Happy reading!

Check out A Cakewalk to Memphis here!

 

Review: A Heart That’s True by Mark Guillerman

~ likelystory18 ~ 1 Comment

Synopsis:

When all is taken, what remains?

In 1912, twelve-year-old Joseph Cross and his cousin Elizabeth White Cloud are torn from the foothills of Montana and sent across the country to the Carlisle Indian School, where children are stripped of their language, their traditions, and even their names.

Separated from home and forced into a world that sees them as something to be remade, Joseph and White Cloud must learn to survive in ways they never imagined. They face loneliness, danger, and a system determined to erase who they are. Yet through friendship, courage, and the teachings of their people, they begin to discover a strength no one can take from them.

Where courage walks, the spirit follows.

Along the way, their journey becomes intertwined with the legend of Big Black, a powerful wolf whose story mirrors their own struggle to belong in a world that fears what it does not understand.

A Heart That’s True is a moving and unforgettable story of resilience, identity, and the unbreakable bond between family, culture, and spirit. Inspired by real historical events, this novel shines a light on a chapter of history that must never be forgotten—and celebrates the courage to remain true to who you are.

Favorite Lines:

“The human spirit will never die in a heart that’s true.”

“The smell of the fresh morning air was strong medicine for Joseph.”

“Her grandfather had taught her many things in her young life, and one thing stood out: always remember and learn from her past.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion. 

A Heart That’s True is historical fiction that takes on a part of American history that is incredibly difficult to read about, but important to remember. The story follows twelve-year-old Joseph Cross, a Lakota boy taken from his home in Montana and sent across the country to the Carlisle Indian Industrial School. Before he leaves, his grandfather gives him a piece of advice that basically becomes the heart of the entire book: no matter what happens to him, he has to hold onto who he is.

I think what worked best for me was that the book doesn’t only focus on the cruelty of Carlisle itself. A lot of the story is really about Joseph’s fear of losing his identity. There’s a moment before he even reaches the school where he meets an older Native student who has already adopted the clothing, speech, and mannerisms expected of him, and Joseph is genuinely terrified by what he sees. He’s been warned that people will try to “wash” his spirit away, and suddenly he understands what that might actually look like. That fear follows him throughout the book and makes even some of the quieter parts of his time at Carlisle feel unsettling.

Joseph’s relationship with his cousin White Cloud was another part I really liked. They’re separated after arriving at Carlisle, but their connection to each other and to their grandfather gives the story an emotional anchor. White Cloud is also a compelling character on her own. She’s older, more guarded, and much more aware of what is happening to them, while Joseph still has a little bit of childhood innocence left.

And then there’s Big Black, who honestly ended up being one of my favorite parts of the book. He’s a huge black wolf/Newfoundland mix Joseph meets during the journey east, and their immediate connection initially seems like a sweet little break in an otherwise bleak situation. But Big Black becomes much more important than that. Joseph connects him to Lakousa, the Wolf King from one of his grandfather’s stories, and the wolf becomes tied to this larger idea of home, freedom, and the part of Joseph that Carlisle can’t take away. I really liked how that storyline brought a slightly mythical feeling into what is otherwise pretty grounded historical fiction.

There are also quite a few real historical figures and events worked into the story. Jim Thorpe has a particularly meaningful role rather than just popping up for the sake of having a recognizable name. His quiet friendship with Joseph becomes another source of encouragement for him, especially when Joseph is able to tell the stories his grandfather taught him instead of being ashamed of them. I thought those scenes were some of the strongest because they show resistance in a much quieter way. Joseph isn’t necessarily making some huge rebellious stand. Sometimes simply remembering and telling his people’s stories is the rebellion.

I did think the writing could be a little heavy on historical explanation at times. There are sections where the story pauses to give quite a bit of background on people, places, and events.. At the same time, I understand why so much context was included, especially because Carlisle and the broader history surrounding Indian boarding schools may be unfamiliar to some readers.

Summary:

Overall, A Heart That’s True is a moving story about identity, family, survival, and refusing to let someone else decide who you are. There are some genuinely painful parts, but there is also a surprising amount of warmth in Joseph’s relationships with White Cloud, Big Black, and the people who show him kindness along the way. It isn’t necessarily a light historical fiction read, but it has a lot of heart. I’d recommend this to readers who enjoy American historical fiction, coming-of-age stories, books about Indigenous history and boarding schools, animal-human bonds, and stories centered around resilience, family, and finding your way home. Happy reading!

Check out A Heart That’s True here!

 

Review: Echoes of a Wild Girl’s Drum by Tiffini Johnson

~ likelystory18 ~ 2 Comments

Synopsis:

I was seven when they tied me to the stake.

They wanted me to burn, burn, burn like Nángi. I threw blackjack petals in her ashes, but not even the strongest herbs can make dead mothers come back. Nobody threw blackjack petals for me, but when my turn came, a boy broke rhythm for me instead — the village drummer, the Commander’s ward — and he was scarred for it.

So I ran. Into the forest, into the dark. I learned to sleep where nothing could find me and eat what the forest gave and trust tree kangaroos and cuscuses before people. I forgot almost everything — except the boy who cut me loose from the stake. Except the tree where we carved a spiral with hair and blood and a poem nobody knows. Except the night we climbed so high the whole sky cracked open and I told him there were a million hundred stars. Except our beat — tap boom tap, tap boom boom tap — that belongs to no one else in the world. He was the only thing I kept.

Women burn in this village. They burn for sick children. For failed crops. For the herbs they keep. Some are tired. Some are angry. Some pass secrets. But I didn’t decide to come back. Something small needed me to.

And now they know: the witch’s daughter didn’t die twelve summers ago.

I know the sound the drum makes before whispers spread like fire.
The air already smells like smoke.

Only now the boy who once broke the rhythm is a man.
And I am no longer seven years old.

Favorite Lines:

“We are strong. We are brave. We are women.”

“The wind blows against my skin while my heart beats fast. In my head, I imagine tapping against the drum, keeping the pressure of the beat just so. The first time I played the Heartbeat and people spilled out into the streets, opened their shops, hitched wagons, and began their day, I felt it. Power. The drumbeat gave the village the knowledge that it was time to begin a new day. The drumbeat acts as the village’s sun. I am the village’s sun. And now I will learn to be its moon.”

“I’m talking in circles, jumping from one thing to the next, just like Salu, but you said spirals lead us home. You are my home. Listen to me.”

My Opinion:

I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for my honest opinion.

This is one of those books that grabs you from the first few pages and really doesn’t let go. The opening is heartbreaking, but it’s also the kind of scene that tells you exactly what kind of story you’re stepping into. It’s heavy, emotional, and not afraid to sit with uncomfortable realities.

The story is set in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea, and that setting never felt like just a backdrop. It becomes part of everything, from the traditions and village life to the way the characters understand the world around them. I especially loved how the drum wasn’t just an instrument. It became a language, a responsibility, and a symbol that carried so much meaning throughout the novel. The cultural details felt woven naturally into the story instead of stopping everything to explain them.

I was a really big fan of the dual perspectives. Seeing the world through young Soryelle’s eyes is absolutely devastating because of her innocence. She notices smells, sounds, plants, animals, and little moments that make the tragedy around her hit even harder. On the other side, Maikel’s chapters add a completely different layer as he wrestles with duty, tradition, and what kind of man he wants to become. Watching those two perspectives slowly build toward each other kept me invested the entire time.

The writing itself is very sensory. You can practically smell the smoke from the mumu fires, hear the rhythm of the drums, and picture the forests and mountains. At times it almost reads like someone telling you a story around a fire rather than a traditional historical novel, which fit the atmosphere really well.

This is definitely not an easy read though so get ready to cry. Johnson doesn’t shy away from trauma, grief, or the lasting effects of violence, and there were several scenes that were difficult to get through emotionally. At the same time, the book never felt hopeless. Underneath all of the pain is a story about resilience, healing, connection, and choosing compassion over fear. Even some of the quieter moments between characters carried just as much emotional weight as the bigger ones.

Summary: 

Overall, this was a beautifully written and emotionally powerful novel that stayed with me long after I finished it. It’s the kind of book that asks difficult questions about humanity while still leaving room for hope. I’d recommend it to readers who enjoy emotional historical fiction, character-driven stories, literary fiction, and novels that explore resilience, culture, and hope after unimaginable loss. 

You can find the book trailer here
Check out Echoes of a Wild Girl’s Drum here!