Although it’s set in the Gilded Age, this witty and engaging novel explores issues that continue to be deeply relevant, while offering an entertaining and inspiring read. (The novel can be preordered now, and its launch is planned for October 3rd.)
As the novel opens, its protagonist, Victoria Swann, is an established writer of more than a dozen romance and adventure novels set in exotic locations. Bearing titles such as Damsel of the Deep Sea and Fair Lady of Forgotten Shores, the books are highly popular with young women and, consequently, a success for Victoria’s genteel Boston publisher, Thames, Royall, & Quincy.
By all appearances, Victoria seems successful as well. She’s wealthy and always stylishly dressed, and she and her husband share a comfortable home on fashionable Brattle Street in Cambridge.
But when Thames, Royall is acquired, things take a troubling turn for Victoria. The new management intends to sign even more lurid fare, starting with a book by a prominent dancehall singer. Victoria, though the financial powerhouse of the firm, is treated as slightly better than a nuisance. Also, the timing of the change in management is unfortunate for her because she is hoping to publish a novel, The Boston Harbor Girl, that is quite a departure from her previous ones. With it, Victoria is taking a new, more realistic direction, one that reflects the struggles of women who share none of the privileges that she’s come to know.
(The Boston Harbor Girl might be seen as coming from the literary movement known as naturalism, which originated in the late nineteenth century. Naturalism is characterized by a kind of objective and detached viewpoint, and often features lower-class characters subject to forces beyond their control. One notable work from this movement is Stephen Crane’s 1893 novella Maggie, A Girl of the Streets, a story of poverty and despair.)
The shift in Victoria’s subject matter comes from far more than a desire to chart a fresh literary course. Not wanting to give away too much, I’ll just say that The Boston Harbor Girl is far more meaningful to her, personally, than her previous novels, making the stakes of getting it out into the world that much higher.
Unfortunately, the new direction of Victoria’s work does not go over well with her editor, or with her husband, an alcoholic spendthrift. Both of them have a financial interest in her continuing to turn out sensational–and highly profitable–novels. (Eventually, her husband’s greed turns out to be financially devastating for Victoria.)
In another disturbing turn, Victoria realizes that she is underpaid compared to male authors at Thames, Royall; she receives a much lower royalty rate than they do. Even more pressing, with the changes in the ownership of the publisher, she no longer receives any royalty payments at all.
Victoria realizes that this injustice cannot go unchallenged, and one of the great pleasures of the novel is seeing her push back against it while holding onto her dream of publishing fiction that, although far less remunerative, could make a lasting impression on readers. (In writing about Victoria’s confrontation with her publisher, Pye took as inspiration the case of a Boston writer, Mary Abigail Dodge, who in 1867 sued her publisher, Ticknor and Fields, for royalty payments that were deliberately less than those of male authors.)
Unfortunately, the story of the inequities Victoria faces remains more than relevant today. To give just one example, the gender pay gap in the United States has changed little over the past 20 years. On a happier note, what also remains relevant is the power of writers engaging with issues that are deeply meaningful to them–and telling stories they believe must be told, even if there is little to gain and, perhaps, much to lose. As a culture, where would we be without such stories, and storytellers?
In perhaps a nod to the 1885 William Dean Howells novel The Rise of Silas Lapham, whose eponymous protagonist endures a financial decline in tandem with his moral growth, Victoria’s “literary undoing” seems to refer not to a negative development, but rather to her gain of artistic freedom and literary merit. It was a pleasure to follow Victoria on this inspiring journey. I was rooting for her at every turn.
Would My Pick be Your Pick?
If you're interested in ________, the answer may be "Yes":￭ Stories set in the Gilded Age
￭ Explorations of the creative process / what inspires writers
￭ Pay inequity and how it is challenged
￭ Stories set in Boston
￭ Stories of writers and publishers
