book review

The Bees: An Allegorical Journey Through Hive Hierarchy

The Bees by Laline Paull
Genre: speculative fiction
I read it as a(n): paperback
Length: 340 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks:
Her Grace’s: 1 – set in a non-patriarchal society
TND: 4 – Debut author; 36 – Standalone
PS: 18 – contains magical creatures that aren’t dragons (bees are absolutely magical creatures. Fight me) 

Flora 717 is a worker bee of the sanitation caste, the lowest kind of bee in her hive’s strict matriarchal hierarchy. Her intended purpose is to clean, and only clean, and do whatever is commanded of her. Naturally, her destiny is wildly different than that.

What a unique, wonderful book! Laline Paull takes real science about bees and their hierarchy and blends it beautifully with allegory to create this novel. To be fair, I was inclined to like this one anyway because I love bees. But I was not prepared for the story of one little bee to make me cry. 

Because of her bravery, Flora’s journey takes her from a lowly sanitation worker to a forager, a role rarely granted to a bee of her caste. She becomes an important figure in the hive, rallying her sisters during crises, being a most excellent forager, and reminding her sisters to hold onto hope during times of despair. Her growth as a character mirrors the hive’s broader struggles, which dig into themes of individuality and collective responsibility. 

Flora also has a secret – but so do the bees of the Sage caste, the ruling members of the hive. Surprise! 

I think the way Paull wrote the story – entirely from a bee’s perspective – is masterful. Throughout the novel, the world is entirely portrayed from the sensory and cognitive framework of bees. Creating the story from a non-human point of view is a great challenge to readers to consider our world in a different way. Predators like wasps and spiders are described as existential threats, and bluebottles are depicted as clumsy and disgusting. Human structures like cell phone towers are perceived as confusing, loud, and dangerous metal trees. Thinking about our structures and technology in that way not only enhances the story but also encourages us to reflect on humanity’s impact on the natural world. Whether Paull intended this commentary or not (I’m guessing she absolutely did), the novel should encourage readers to think about our ecological footprint.

This book also has a lot of allegorical layers that show how the hive is a microcosm of our own society. It explores systems of governance ranging from democratic and collectivist to authoritarian and dictatorship. It touches on themes of community, sisterhood, and the sacrifices demanded for the greater good but then juxtaposes those with the dangers of blind devotion to leadership. The hive’s cult-like adoration of the Queen highlights the dangers of unquestioning loyalty, which ought to ring a bell of some kind – any kind – with contemporary political and social dynamics. MAGA, anyone? The Bees predates the administration of a certain incompetent, unintelligent, narcissistic, orange-hued wannabe king, but its critique of oppressive hierarchies and groupthink feels prescient.

I enjoyed Paull’s writing style as well. The pacing was a little uneven at times, but not so much that it destroyed the engagement or anything. I think the places where the narrative slows are offset by the richness of the writing and the depth of the characters. The depth of character development and emotional complexity make Flora a very sympathetic and relatable character. 

Overall, I think this is a unique and thought-provoking novel that should appeal to fans of speculative fiction and allegory alike. Now I want to go read Honeybee Democracy and The Lives of Bees

book review · historical fiction · Medievalism

The Stone Witch: A Historical Fiction Mystery

book review

Women, Witches, and Weyward: Exploring Nature, Patriarchy, and Resilience

Weyward by Emilia Hart
Genre: magical realism
I read it as a(n): hardback
Length: 329 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 5 stars 
2025 Reading Challenge tasks: 

  • Her Grace’s: #21: About witches or nuns
  • TND: #35: Multiple perspectives
  • PS: #24: A happily single female protagonist

Words cannot adequately express how much I fucking loved this book. I read it in less than two days, which is astonishing considering that I have recently struggled to read a scant 200-page book within the space of an entire month. But I was hooked right from the start of Weyward. This gorgeous book tells the ways in which the lives of three women in three different time periods intersect. They are all connected by a shared link to nature and abuse at the hands of men. 

In 1619, Altha is a healer who is indicted for witchcraft after the husband of a childhood friend is killed. She has only ever used her skills to help her community, and they repay her by turning against her after a man falsely accuses her. Society fears female autonomy and strength, and we have the evidence of that in the witch crazes (and everything else that still persists today in how women are treated). There are references to Jennet Device and the Pendle Hill witch trial* scattered throughout Altha’s story, which is a historical reference I appreciate. Her trial for witchcraft underscores the dangers of being a woman with intelligence or independence in a world ruled by men. 

In 1942, Violet chafes against the harsh restrictions imposed on her by her father and society. She uses nature to seek freedom, and she goes around her father to learn about the ecosystem and insects, doing an end-run around society’s gendered constraints. She suffers mental and emotional abuse from her father, and physical abuse and rape from her cousin. When she takes matters into her own hands, using her innate understanding of nature and her own keen intelligence, she narrowly escapes forced institutionalization. Lobotomy was the implied treatment, along with hysterectomy. Violet escapes a horrorshow life in an institution mainly because her brother stands up for her and rejects their father alongside his sister. Violet’s experiences show the ways in which women’s autonomy was stripped away under the guise of propriety.

In 2019, Kate escapes an abusive boyfriend and flees to a small cottage in the north of England that was left to her by her great-aunt. Said great-aunt happens to be Violet. When she arrives at Weyward Cottage, the wilderness surrounding the area helps her to rediscover and refine her strength and confidence. Kate’s story shows the continuing battle women have to deal with even in modern times, the constant stream of bullshit from patriarchal desires and systems that are forced on society. Seriously, why do we still have to struggle with this? 

These three women are also case studies in how generational trauma works. They each have inherited both the wounds and the knowledge of their foremothers. The novel emphasizes the importance of embracing and working with that heritage. It is only by doing so that they, and we today, can find the ways to break the cycle of abuse and oppression. 

Each of these women are witches in their own way – healer, scientist, mother. This is a story about the deep strength and courage of women, how we intersect with each other even across time, and the impact of the natural world on us all. Through their connection with nature, these women reclaim their identities and strength that was stripped from them. They give the finger to their abuse, abusers, and generational trauma by refusing to allow that abuse to define them. Instead, they are defined by their resilience and the way they each embraced their rewilding.

I cannot recommend this book highly enough. I think it is one that will resonate with any woman. After all, as Aunt Jet reminds us, there’s a little witch in all of us.

*Side quest: If you are interested in reading a superb historical fiction about the Pendle Hill witch trial, you will immediately go pick up Daughters of the Witching Hill by Mary Sharratt.

book review

Exploring ‘The Horse’ by Willy Vlautin: A Reflection on Life

The Horse by Willy Vlautin
Genre: literary fiction
I read it as a(n): hardback
Length: 194 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 3.5 stars 

Reading Challenge tasks: 
Her Grace’s: 13 – A book with a yellow spine
TND: 7 – A new to you author
PS: 8 – Under 250 pages

Al Ward is a 60-something alcoholic guitar player and songwriter who has hit rock bottom. He’s living in basically a shack with no electricity or running water on an old mining claim in the desert outside of Reno, NV, which he inherited from his uncle. Naturally, he’s wondering why he should bother to carry on when a random horse shows up at his door. The horse is blind, obviously old, and starving. It is also the middle of winter and Al worries that the horse will freeze to death. He decides it is his job to save the horse, but given that he has only canned condensed soup and no working vehicle, he’s in a quandary. He decides to walk 30 miles to the nearest neighbor’s farm to seek help for the animal, hoping that it will still be alive when he returns. Also, he’s hoping it’s a real horse and not a product of alcoholic hallucinations. 

In some ways, this book reads like a depressing case study in poor decisions and a life that has never had anything really go right. But it is also a deep reflection on the lived experiences of so many Americans. So many people live hand to mouth, no money, no savings, floating from one job to the next, wondering where they will sleep next or where their next meal will come from. Often it isn’t any fault of their own; they just lacked the necessary support systems to get a leg up. It also is about loneliness and people trying to make a connection with another living being, whether that is another human or a horse or something else. 

Al is a good man and sympathetic character. He never intentionally hurts anyone, he truly does try his best. He is also a highly unreliable narrator. His alcoholism becomes part of his identity and, try as he might, he is never able to totally dry out. This leads readers to question how much of his story is accurate or even real. It colors the portrayal of all the other characters in the story as well, whether they, too, are addicts in some way or not. 

The horse is more a place to hang the plot rather than being part of the plot itself. Its presence in the story is minimal and serves mainly as a way for Al to begin looking back over his own life and the choices he’s made. Anyone looking for an actual story about a horse will be disappointed. Initially, that was me, but the writing was excellent and I felt bad for Al. I wanted to know more about him and how it would end, so the lack of actual horses in the story quickly became irrelevant to its enjoyment.

lifestyle · travel

Highlights of My Busy 2024: Family, Travel, and Reading

My 2024 was pretty busy, mostly in good ways. 

So. That happened. I am sick to death of politics, so all I’ll say is, I hope everyone gets the year they voted for and deserve. 

New Zealand sister, her husband, and kids came for a good visit. I hadn’t gotten to meet her kids before now, so that was a delight. That whole visit was a highlight of the year, though I feel bad that their schedule meant they had to come in the hottest part of summer. There’s nothing good about summer in Phoenix. Sorry, Z – I hope next time you get to come when it is not a million degrees out. 

A few months after their visit, her younger brother came for a visit as well. He had a few days to kill between arriving in the States and taking his test to get promoted to captain (he works on superyachts – how cool is that?), so he came to visit us. I hadn’t seen him since he was like 8, so that was a fun visit as well.

I took my daughter on a trip to London during her fall break from school. One of my best friends met us there a few days later and we had one epic girls’ trip. I got a new tattoo while I was there; we saw a few plays, including A Comedy of Errors at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre; got to visit my friend’s family during a trip to Kew Gardens and Camden; ate dinner at St John, which was one of Anthony Bourdain’s favorite restaurants in London; saw, FINALLY, the tomb of William Marshal in the Temple Church; and spent hours in a massive 6-storey Waterstone’s, buying books that weren’t published in the States yet because buying books in Britain is more fun, and also I have no ability to delay my gratification when it comes to books in general. 

I hit a major reading slump this year, too, but I still did alright. I read a total of: 

  • 36 books
  • 11,113 pages
  • 12 audiobooks
  • 153:27 hours listened
  • 67% of women authors
  • 33% of male authors
  • 8% LGBTQ+ authors 
  • 19% LGBTQ+ characters (I did really badly in these 2 categories this year; I try to do 25-30% at least)
  • The genre I read the most was sci-fi. Big surprise there. 44% of my reading was sci-fi
  • The month I read the most was December, which is weird
  • I had 8 books that I rated as 5-star reads
  • I had 1 book to which I gave a 1-star rating

My favorite books of this year were:

  • The Salt Path by Raynor Winn (also the audio)
  • The Wild Silence also by Raynor Winn
  • Thorn Hedge by T. Kingfisher
  • The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers
  • A Closed and Common Orbit also by Becky Chambers
  • the witch doesn’t burn in this one by Amanda Lovelace

My favorite audiobooks of this year were:

  • The Salt Path written and read by Raynor Winn (also eyeball read this)
  • Lost Boy by Christina Henry, narrated by Samuel Roukin
  • Norse Mythology written and read by Neil Gaiman
  • The Gentleman by Forrest Leo, narrated by Samuel Roukin and John Keating. (Some serious, laugh out loud funny moments in this one. The side notes just about killed me)
  • The Shadowed Land by Signe Pike, narrated by Eilidh Beaton, Toni Frutin, Gary Furlong, Angus King, and Siobhan Waring (I waited 3 years for this book to come out and it was so worth it. Probably my new all-time favorite take on Arthurian legend)

I still have a few days left of 2024 so I may get a couple more books read between now and then. But it’s close enough.

My goals for 2025 are much as always – read lots, try new food, go to some interesting places, hang out with friends. I will try to complete my own reading challenge in 2025. For fun, I try to complete The Nerd Daily’s annual challenge as well, though I don’t make myself crazy if that doesn’t happen. And, of course, I try to do the reading challenges by tackling my own TBR in the process. I will post my annual reading challenge in a couple days for anyone who might want to participate. 

Happy Holidays, all!

book review

The Flaws of Remember Summer: A Romance Gone Wrong

Remember Summer by Elizabeth Lowell
Genre: ewww, romance
I read it as a(n): digital book from the library
Length: 384 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 1 stars

Raine Smith is a world-class equestrian. Readers first meet her scanning the cross country obstacle course for the summer Olympics, where she is standing on a hill with a camera. The male protagonist, Cord Elliott, is an agent from a branch of the government anti-terrorist task force who is assigned to protect Raine, whose father is a bigwig in said task force. Except nobody told Raine that she has a protective detail, and someone gave Cord a terrible photo of Raine so he didn’t recognize her. Still thinking she’s alone, she reaches into her purse to grab a notebook, making Cord think she’s going for a gun – alone. On a hilltop. – and he tackles her to the ground. Two minutes later, they are making out.

I…do not understand romance books. Granted, this one was written in the 80s. But even in that strange time, I don’t think real people acted that way. Who the fuck makes out with a man who literally just attacked you? The only correct response, both in that instant and in every instance thereafter, is a solid kick to the balls.

I got this book (thankfully from the library – I spent no money on it) because I saw a review somewhere that only talked about the horse stuff. So I thought it was a horse book! For grown ups! I was a horse-crazy little girl. I still dig a good horse novel for adults, especially if it’s about English style riding or eventing. If I had known it was a romance, I would have passed on it. Because of crap like the above. There is hardly any horse stuff except in the last 10% or so, other than Raine talking or thinking about her horse. Otherwise, it could be just any kind of event or sport – fill in the blank with whatever activity you choose and you’ll have the same story.

The characters were flat and unlikable. Raine is supposed to be a world-class rider on a dangerous horse who has spent her entire life working towards this moment when she will compete in the Olympics, and yet one tackle and getting pinned to the ground by a random man turns her into a vapid cow who can only think about getting laid by said random man and who laments that her daddy doesn’t love her. 

Cord is a caveman with a gun – grunt woman mine! – who has poor communication skills and a one-track mind, if we’re being generous in factoring in his mission to kill a specific terrorist. Half-track mind if we focus only on his singular desire to drag Raine to bed by her hair and keep her there. Naturally, he also handles her horse better than she does.

I am sad that there is such a dearth of horse stories for adults, and that many of the ones that exist take the form of romance. Horses and women do not automatically have to equate to bodice-ripping, flat romance. I am definitely dumber for having read this book.

book review · sci-fi

Character-Driven Stories in The Wayfarers Series

I had done a very short review for The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet in a catch-up round a while back. So I don’t really want to redo it here, even though there’s a lot I could say about it. Mostly I will say that I loved it and that it had spicy, diverse characters. The characters were the primary drivers of the story more than the plot, though that was ridiculously fun as well. I love the trope of Found Family and Chambers created a beautiful one on the Wayfarer. I give it 4.5/5 stars

Moving on. A Closed and Common Orbit is, I think, my favorite in the series. As fun as TLWtaSAP was, this one sat me down and fed me a delicious story of self-discovery AND a character backstory. I do love a good backstory. I like seeing how all the stories and characters are intertwining across these books. Pepper was a minor character in a couple scenes in the first book, and now she has a whole book of her own, along with Lovey, the Wayfarer’s AI. Other characters that got a small mention elsewhere show up as well. I love that kind of world-building. Very meta. 

I also loved this story because it was fun to get to know one specific setting well. The primary story was set in Port Coriol, and the descriptions of that city were vivid and tangible. It was a vibrant city and Pepper’s little neighborhood, Six Top, felt like a place I would love to stay. 

5/5 stars

————————————–

Record of a Spaceborn Few covers the Human fleet, called the Exodans. They are the remnants of the people who left Earth and who decided to remain in space rather than settling on a planet. As with the other books in the series, there are references to other characters from previous books. One of the POV characters in this is Ashby’s sister. Ashby, for those who may have forgotten, is the captain of the Wayfarer. It was fun to get “updates” about Ashby by way of a random comment here and there, a reminder of what the Wayfarer crew was up to at the same time the events in the Fleet were unfolding. 

This one focused on the ways we come to discover Home, and what that means to each of us. We saw this exploration through the eyes of several Humans, some who were Exodan and some who grew up on a planet. Some wanted out of the Fleet, some wanted back in, and others weren’t sure where they belonged. Chambers teased out the threads of their stories and wove them together to create a lovely, rich story.

3/5 stars

————————————–

The Galaxy, and the Ground Within. Yes, yes, it was chock full of complex characters and a little bit of splody space excitement and getting to know people and their various cultures. I dig all of that, don’t get me wrong. But! Did you know there is a whole scene dedicated to cheese? And how revolting it really is when you stop to think about it? And how, despite that, humans are “all so fucking bonkers for cheese that they’ll ingest a dose of the enzymes [needed to digest cheese] beforehand so that they can eat it.” I feel so seen.

As with the other three books in the series, this one was full of deep characters, lots of self-discovery, and growth. Also as with the rest of this series, it really isn’t an action-packed, standard space adventure kind of story. All of the books in this series are more like examples of kishotenketsu, where there isn’t a traditional hero or call to action or conflict. The characters interact and learn about each other and through them, their own biases and blind spots. Some of them try to figure out what they can do about those to do better. Their circumstances made them think introspectively, and I think it should do the same for any reader as well.

4/5 stars

————————————–

Overall, this entire series is the sort of generally happy, hopeful sci-fi I love. It’s reminiscent, in that way, of the original series Star Trek. I think we need more of the fun, optimistic, cozy kind of sci-fi and less of the dystopian, doom and gloom, we’re all going to die screaming kind. We already know we’re going to die screaming. I, for one, would like not to have to think about it for a minute. The Wayfarers series is the thing you are looking for to help distract you from…everything.

book review

Exploring Magical Realism in _Spells for Forgetting_

Spells for Forgetting by Adrienne Young
Genre: literary fiction/ magical realism
I read it as a(n): hb
Length: 350 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars

The residents of Saoirse Island, WA, are a different group of people. They are insular, some of them to the point of xenophobia, yet they are almost entirely dependent on the tourists who come to the island to pick apples from its gigantic orchard. Every person on the island is tied in one way or another to the orchard. So when the orchard burned nearly to the ground and a teen died, folks did what they felt was necessary – ostracized the boy who seemed responsible, forcing him and his mother out of the community, and then never spoke of it again. That is, until that boy, now a man, returns to the island to bury the ashes of his mother. August Salt’s return to the island stirs up memories and secrets most want to leave buried except for Emery Blackwood, the girl August left behind.

Saoirse is an island that wraps itself around the lives of its people, dictating their fates in ways that feel inescapable. It is ironic since Saoirse means freedom in Irish, but it’s anything but free for some of the islanders who are bound by the weight of history, tradition, and unsolved mysteries. For those who live there, leaving is never really an option. Even when they manage to get away, as one of the characters does, they are always drawn back, like a magnet pulling them to confront what has been left unresolved. It is not really an ominous sense, though, as the island protects many who need it, and wreaks havoc on others who deserve it. Also? I love it when there is an inanimate object that is a fully fledged character in its own right. Saoirse Island is certainly that.

In magical realism, the blending of the ordinary with the extraordinary is seamless, and Spells for Forgetting exemplifies that perfectly. Saoirse is full of magic, but it’s a kind of magic that feels like part of the natural world. It just exists, like the air or the tides, and nobody questions its existence. The magic is tied to the land itself, the orchard in particular. The island breathes life into this magic, and just as it holds the people in its grip, it also holds their power. This is why the women, especially the older women, are so central to the story. Their knowledge of magic isn’t learned in books or schools—it’s passed down through the generations, grandmother to granddaughter, like a family secret. 

In folklore, older women tend to hold a special place when they aren’t relegated to the role of witch or wicked stepmother. They are the keepers of tradition, the wise ones who hold knowledge that others don’t understand or respect until it’s too late. But Spells for Forgetting subverts this role in an interesting way. Yes, the grandmothers are the teachers, the ones who understand the magic and the island, but they are also trapped by it. The island’s magic is as much a burden as it is a gift. It binds them to Saoirse just as much as it empowers them, and in this way, they are not the all-knowing, all-powerful figures of traditional folklore. Instead, they are characters shaped by the same constraints and fears as everyone else, forced to carry the weight of the island’s secrets and never able to escape its influence. 

The role of women in the story, particularly in the context of magical realism, highlights the balance between empowerment and imprisonment. Their connection to the island, through magic, bloodlines, and tradition, gives them strength but also makes them part of Saoirse’s pull. While folklore often celebrates the wisdom of old women, Spells for Forgetting shows the price of that wisdom—knowledge of the island’s magic comes with a cost, and freedom, in the true sense of the word, is not part of the bargain. 

In this way, the island itself becomes the ultimate character, shaping and controlling the lives of everyone who resides there. Its magic is subtle, but Saoirse is a constant reminder that what should be freedom is, in reality, a kind of beautiful, inescapable prison. The natural elements—earth, water, wind, and fire—aren’t just parts of the scenery but active forces that tie the people to the island, just as much as the magic and the folklore do.

book review

Nineteen Minutes

Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
Genre: general fiction
I read it as a(n): paperback
Length: 642 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 3.5 stars

A typical day at Stirling High in New Hampshire took a horrific turn when a shooter unleashed devastation in just 19 minutes, forever changing the lives of everyone in the town.

This was a tough book for me to read. As a parent of a high schooler, it touched on a fear that feels all too real. The thought of sending my daughter to a place where she should be safe, only to have her not come home, is something that gives me daily anxiety. 

The story follows the aftermath of the shooting, as various characters grapple with the trauma. Some have lost children or close friends, while others are survivors trying to rebuild their lives amidst grief and survivor’s guilt. Secrets ripple through the small town as characters struggle with what they know, and in some cases, what they refuse to admit.

Peter, the shooter, fits the mold of the classic outsider—bullied from an early age and deeply sensitive. But he’s more than just a stereotype; he’s experienced losses of his own, too. Josie, on the other hand, is one of the popular girls, driven by a fear of social rejection and trapped by the high school hierarchy. The pressure to conform is constantly present. I do not fucking miss high school one bit.

Patrick, the detective who is one of the first responders at the scene, is a man haunted by his own past and determined to seek justice for the victims. Yet in a town where almost everyone is hiding something, justice is hard to come by. Alex, the trial judge, faces her own internal conflict. Having known Peter as her daughter Josie’s childhood friend, her struggle to remain impartial while also putting her daughter’s needs first adds another layer of tension.

Picoult skillfully intertwines these characters’ stories, revealing bits and pieces that form a complex web of connections. As their secrets come to light, it’s clear that not everyone is who they seem. The shifting perspectives and timelines create a rich narrative structure, which adds depth to the mystery—even though we know early on who the shooter is.

This book forces readers to confront difficult questions about guilt, blame, and what it means to be the “bad guy.” It challenges the idea of who the true villains are, and the answers aren’t always straightforward.

That said, a few things left me unsatisfied. There were some loose ends that felt less like intentional ambiguity and more like unfinished threads in the story. While I appreciate a certain level of open-endedness, it can be frustrating when key details don’t feel fully resolved.

The major takeaway from this novel, though, is simple:

WE DON’T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS!

Also, just from me, a hearty FUCK YOU to Republicans. If it weren’t for them and their weird ammosexual tendencies, valuing their guns more than people, we wouldn’t have to worry about things like this.

book review · interview

Reflections of Identity & History: Discussing Hall of Mirrors with John Copenhaver

Originally published in Historical Novels Review | Issue 109 (August 2024)

The 1950s were a complex time, filled with political intrigue and deep social and moral imbalances. This is the tumultuous backdrop for John Copenhaver’s latest novel, Hall of Mirrors (Pegasus Crime, 2024), a thoughtful reflection of identity, politics, and the human experience.

Copenhaver set Hall of Mirrors in the McCarthy era, following the timeline established in his previous post-WWII novel, The Savage Kind (Pegasus Crime, 2021), featuring the same main characters, Judy and Philippa. Copenhaver explains that he had more to tell about their story and wanted to follow them in their growth from teenagers to young women. He says that the McCarthy era was “a particularly difficult time to be an independent-minded woman, especially if you’re queer and, in Judy’s case, mixed race.”

Researching and writing about this period uncovered some unique challenges, particularly those facing the LGBTQ+ and Black communities. Copenhaver immersed himself in the socio-political climate of the 1950s, uncovering the intricate ways in which government policies shaped societal attitudes. The McCarthy era is indelibly marked by government-sanctioned discrimination against Black and queer individuals, which bled over into society as a whole. Copenhaver notes, “The McCarthy era, from overt political figures grasping for power like McCarthy to the FBI under J. Edgar Hoover, led to the perpetuation of discriminatory ideologies that still linger.” It is in the space left by these attitudes that Copenhaver is able to explore their continuing impact on modern society. He says, “These attitudes still echo today, making it a rich and relevant setting for my story.”

Copenhaver deftly manages the delicate task of balancing historical accuracy with creative storytelling. His story incorporates many of the dark facets of the McCarthy era and how various government agencies acted while simultaneously revolving around a domestic setting through the private lives of Judy and Philippa, as well as those of Roger and Lionel, the novel’s murder victim and suspect. He explains that this balance was crucial to create an authentic and engaging narrative. The domestic side of the novel really is where the narrative shines, allowing readers a glimpse into the minds of the characters.

The book’s title itself gives readers a deeper perspective and acts as a portal into the themes within, with the concept of reflection and doubling at the forefront. The society that Judy and Philippa navigate is fraught with double standards and questions of identity. Copenhaver elaborates, “I’ve always been interested in mirroring and doubles, a consistent theme in film noir. In this novel, I explore several doubles: Judy and Philippa, Roger and Lionel. Opposites attract, and love aligns, yet mirrors also suggest vanity and the question of identity.”

Identity is further explored in the representation of LGBTQ+ characters, which are a cornerstone of Copenhaver’s writing. Thanks to Copenhaver and other contemporary writers, these characters are being written back into historical fiction. He says that LGBTQ+ representation in his work is an intentional correction of invisibility and, “It’s about enjoying a twisty mystery while considering historical representation.”

The theme of “passing” is also central the narrative. Judy has spent her life passing as a white woman, though in reality she is biracial. Passing has been a complex issue for decades, having its origins in the colonial and antebellum South eras. Initially, the practice of racial passing was used as a means of escaping slavery, but it continued in the post-Reconstruction era as a strategy to avoid systemic racism. Passing carried on into the 1950s, both in terms of racial passing as well as passing as straight for members of the queer community, again as an attempt to escape from the racism and homophobia of the time. Copenhaver notes that passing also “raises questions of identity and agency, highlighting the moral imbalances of societal norms.”

Moral imbalances are further explored through the lens of the political landscape of the 1950s. This time period was marked by the Red Scare and Jim Crow laws which also targeted LGBTQ+ individuals. The merest hint of accusation could be enough to destroy an entire life. Copenhaver reflects, “The Lavender Scare, a subset of the Red Scare, led to the persecution of gays and lesbians in government roles, driven by fearmongering and power dynamics.”  Roger’s firing from his job at the State Department and Lionel hiding his true relationship with Roger from the police during their investigations are reflections of the Lavender Scare and systemic racism in action.

While acknowledging social progress since then, Copenhaver questions the true extent of change. Through the characters’ experiences, he urges readers to critically analyze fear-driven narratives, emphasizing the importance of understanding historical contexts to foster meaningful change.

When dealing with heavy themes, a reflection on grief and loss is only natural. Copenhaver’s personal experiences with grief shape his writing. He candidly discusses the impact of his father’s early death, stating that this formative experience forced him to reflect on loss, mortality, and why bad things happen. He describes his writing as “inherently dark yet affirming, reflecting the complexities of life.”

Copenhaver further notes, “Exploring grief allows for a deeper understanding of human experiences, showcasing the resilience and affirmation that coexist with sorrow.” Philippa, Judy, and Lionel embody various aspects of grief and resilience as they experience the loss of loved ones, of their security, livelihood, and identity. They also are the embodiment of perseverance, carrying on despite hardship and persecution. As Copenhaver’s vibrant, complex characters demonstrate, it is during difficult times that people’s true selves emerges.

Hall of Mirrors emerges as a nuanced exploration of identity, politics, and human resilience within the McCarthy-era, as well as holding up a mirror to our modern lives and challenging us to do better. Copenhaver’s captivating narrative encourages readers to reflect on historical legacies, LGBTQ+ representation, and the enduring quest for identity and belonging.