In Strasbourg, in the boiling hot summer of 1518, a plague strikes the women of the city. First it is just one – a lone figure, dancing in the town square – but she is joined by more and more and the city authorities declare an emergency. Musicians will be brought in. The devil will be danced out of these women.

Just beyond the city’s limits, pregnant Lisbet lives with her mother-in-law and husband, tending the bees that are their livelihood. Her best friend Ida visits regularly and Lisbet is so looking forward to sharing life and motherhood with her. And then, just as the first woman begins to dance in the city, Lisbet’s sister-in-law Nethe returns from six years penance in the mountains for an unknown crime. No one – not even Ida – will tell Lisbet what Nethe did all those years ago, and Nethe herself will not speak a word about it.

It is the beginning of a few weeks that will change everything for Lisbet – her understanding of what it is to love and be loved, and her determination to survive at all costs for the baby she is carrying. Lisbet and Nethe and Ida soon find themselves pushing at the boundaries of their existence – but they’re dancing to a dangerous tune . . .

Well this was a delight. Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s The Dance Tree explores lust, family secrets and women under the eye of the Church, set against the backdrop of a captivating dance plague overtaking a small Strasbourg village in 1518. The Dance Tree is also about a returned sister, silenced by a past transgression, and a main character constrained by her marriage and her crowded home.

The Dance Tree is a very female-centric story. At its heart is the pregnant Lisbet, who is hoping her current pregnancy will be her first successful one. Her mother-in-law shames her for her past miscarriages and stillborns, and no one will tell her why Nethe, her husband’s sister, was sent away to the mountains for seven years. What crime did she commit and how will her return affect Lisbet’s life? There is also her best friend Ida, who made a substantial sacrifice years ago and is still living with the repercussions.

“The smell comes like a cloud from the river that cuts east of Strasbourg. It is brown and sluggish beneath the sun, and as they near the city proper, the smell grows solid, grows guts and breath.”

Based on true events, Kiran captures the religious condemnation of the time period with clarity. When the dance plague starts, and then spreads, those in charge are wielded even more power to make it stop. The plague frightens them, and then in turn, they begin to frighten the rest of the townsfolk. People are already hungry and desperate and oppressed by those more powerful than them. Over time, their control over the town begins to fracture, and women band together to exert their force over those in charge.

The writing is one of the strengths in the book – Kiran’s ability to capture human emotion through actions and reactions. There is no ‘telling’ in this book; we learn everything we need to know through social interactions and dialogue. We come to understand feelings and emotions through movement and song and tender conversations between the unlikeliest of friends. And as the pages progress, Kiran builds tension and pacing with ease.

“The ground is scattered with leaves and her gifts. She brings the babies magpie offerings and places them at the base of the tree: pleasingly patterned stones, found feathers, flowers pressed and weighted with pebbles. She used to be superstitious about it, making deals and promises with each token.”

Other strengths in the book include female friendship and relationships between family — particularly Lisbet and her mother-in-law — setting, temperature and weather, and capturing lust and love between two people who struggle to part from one another.

Lisbet reflects on how her relationship with her husband has changed over the years, from intense passion to disappointment, and finally, to what feels like complacency. Lisbet feels guilty for not being able to carry a pregnancy, and thus she feels lost and alone, even when surrounded by others. She has much to learn about life and living, and Nethe’s return acts as the catalyst towards this.

“Nethe said in the abbey such judgements between holy mania and demonic possession rested on whether someone was liked or not. Lisbet eyes her, wondering what effect such a pronouncement will have on her. But Nethe has turned to stone again.”

Lyrical, atmospheric and imaginative, The Dance Tree is recommended for literary fiction readers. Readership skews female, 30+

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Dance Tree
Kiran Millwood Hargrave
May 2022
Pan Macmillan Publishers Australia

In the mid-1950s, a small group of Finnish migrants set up camp on Little Rat, a tiny island in an archipelago off the coast of Western Australia. The crayfishing industry is in its infancy, and the islands, haunted though they are by past shipwrecks, possess an indefinable allure.

Drawn here by tragedy, Onni Saari is soon hooked by the stark beauty of the landscape and the slivers of jutting coral onto which the crayfishers build their precarious huts. Could these reefs, teeming with the elusive and lucrative cray, hold the key to a good life?

The Islands is the sweeping story of the Saari family: Onni, an industrious and ambitious young man, grappling with the loss of a loved one; his wife Alva, quiet but stoic, seeking a sense of belonging between the ramshackle camps of the islands and the dusty suburban lots of the mainland; and their pensive daughter Hilda, who dreams of becoming the skipper of her own boat. As the Saari’s try to build their future in Australia, their lives entwine with those of the fishing families of Little Rat, in myriad and unexpected ways.

A stunning, insightful story of a search for home.

Emily Brugman’s debut novel The Islands is a multi-generational literary tale that documents Finnish migration to the Abrolhos Islands off the coast of Western Australia.

Although this is a fictional tale, The Islands is heavily influenced by the stories of Emily’s ancestors from 1959 – 1972, as well as extensive research into these islands and cray fishermen from the mid-20th century. The Islands is set across many decades and moves back and forth between different members of the family. Over the course of the novel, we observe each character during pivotal moments in their lives.

“A year for the Saaris was now lived in two parts: on-season and off-season. Their first season on Little Rat had been a moderate success, from an economic standpoint, and the couple looked ahead with a suspicious and careful optimism characteristic of their people.”

At its core, The Islands is about the pursuit of a sustainable and secure life. But it’s also about resilience — both physical and emotional — and perseverance. We witness what that can encapsulate whether you’re 40, 60 or 14. In this isolated and secluded setting, we meet women experiencing loneliness, experiencing childbirth for the first time. We read as their children then mature into teenagers within this barren but plentiful landscape — we follow them as they discover impulses and sexual desire. We come across men working to earn for their families, having arrived with the hope of a land that provides.

“They carried him to camp and laid him down on his side, covering him with a blanket. Hilda stood watching from a corner. Helvi was crying and so was Aiti, although she was trying not to. Hilda wanted to cry too, but she didn’t think that would be right after what she’d done. So she just stood there. And Lauri didn’t move.”

Scattered throughout the novel are Finnish verses, then translated into English. By embedding Finnish language into the novel, readers are further immersed in culture, community and these characters’ historical journey.

There is a strong sense of song and music throughout the book, and the Finnish verses also allow the characters to have a stronger connection to their heritage because it feels like knowledge is being passed between generations.

“Towards the close of his first season, Onni woke to find Little Rat covered in dead shearwaters, their dishevelled bodies in oily black heaps on the coral ground. Those shaggy mutton birds, as the Aussies called them. They flew thousands of miles every year, across open ocean, through torrents of rain and wind. They didn’t always make it, and every so often they’d wash up on shorelines in their hundreds. A wreck. That was what they called it, when they washed up like that.”

Evocative and emotional, Emily Brugman’s The Islands is recommended for literary readers, and fans of grand familial sagas steeped in wild, forbidding settings like a Hannah Kent novel. Readership skews female, 30+

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Islands
Emily Brugman
February 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

It’s 2017, and Olga and her brother, Pedro ‘Prieto’ Acevedo, are bold-faced names in their hometown of New York. Prieto is a popular congressman representing their gentrifying, Latinx neighborhood in Brooklyn, while Olga is the tony wedding planner for Manhattan’s power brokers.

Despite their alluring public lives, behind closed doors things are far less rosy. Sure, Olga can orchestrate the love stories of the one percent, but she can’t seem to find her own . . . until she meets Matteo, who forces her to confront the effects of long-held family secrets.

Twenty-seven years ago, their mother, Blanca, a Young Lord-turned-radical, abandoned her children to advance a militant political cause, leaving them to be raised by their grandmother. Now, with the winds of hurricane season, Blanca has come barreling back into their lives.

Set against the backdrop of New York City in the months surrounding the most devastating hurricane in Puerto Rico’s history, Olga Dies Dreaming is a story that examines political corruption, familial strife and the very notion of the American dream – all while asking what it really means to weather a storm.

Xochitl Gonzalez’s Olga Dies Dreaming is a revolutionary, multi-generational tale about family, race, identity and politics. Two Puerto-Rican siblings living in gentrified Brooklyn are grappling with their responsibility to their mother — a radical activist who abandoned the family when protagonist Olga was twelve years old. She is now thirty-nine and her mother is a fugitive fighting for Puerto Rican independence, meanwhile manipulating her two children in a series of letters scattered throughout the novel.

Olga Dies Dreaming is a pointed commentary about American society and politics — about race and poverty, and how societal structures within America ensure that the poor stay poor, and the wealthy only gain more power. Whilst some of the political aspects of the novel may go over readers’ heads, the carefully crafted plotting and pacing still allows for an enjoyable read.

“Sometimes, when he contemplated the direction of his life, he felt his wounds were self-inflicted. He ran for office because everyone ignored his neighbourhood…these days, all eyes were on Sunset Park, and it was he, Prieto, who had put them there. For better and for worse.”

At their core, Olga and her brother Prieto are trying to prove that they’re more capable than what others believe. Olga is a savvy wedding planner, successful but depressed. Prieto may be a popular U.S congressman but he is hiding in the closet and is being blackmailed by high-powered real estate moguls. Both siblings are grappling with the trajectory of their lives.

Set mainly in the Summer of 2017, Xochitl’s writing is slick and omniscient — she’s an incredibly talented writer and this is an equally impressive debut. Her writing is observant and conveys layered emotion. Chapters end with open-ended dialogue or observations, allowing deeper character observation for the reader.

“He didn’t, in fact, agree with that assessment; he sometimes felt Olga underestimated him. When it came to business at least, Dick always saw the dark sides of things, but his gift, he felt, was for sensing the opportunities that often lie in wait.”

The pacing does differ across the course of the novel and the middle third of the book in particular feels painfully slow. The final part of the novel, once the hurricane hits, holds a much more consistent and engaging flow.

Readers who aren’t overly invested in literary fiction, nor interested in a novel that provides commentary on the American sociopolitical environment, admittedly might find their interests lulling throughout the story.

“Close up, Olga could see that Matteo was quite handsome underneath his scruffy semi-beard. He had a splattering of freckles and the kind light brown eyes that Olga used to call Coca-Cola coloured when she was a kid.”

Pointed, punchy and purposeful, Olga Dies Dreaming is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews 30+

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Olga Dies Dreaming
Xochitl Gonzalez
January 2022
Hachette Book Publishers