Blog Archives
Jeanne la femme en rouge
Jeanne la femme en rouge, by Isabelle B.L., is a historical novel about Jeanne Tunica y Casas, a fierce political agitator, teacher, artist, wife, and aging woman whose life stretches across Nîmes, Paris, Nouméa, Sydney, and Santo. The novel frames Jeanne in her later years, confined to a retirement home in 1967, while memory keeps pulling her back to Paco, her beloved husband, and to the decades she spent writing, organizing, arguing, teaching, and defending exploited workers in New Caledonia. It is a story of love and ideology, but also of erasure: a woman who fought to be heard now has to fight against institutional silence, old age, and the soft violence of being managed.
What struck me first was the book’s refusal to make Jeanne easy. She is not softened into a saint of justice or tidied into a tragic widow. She is abrasive, brilliant, difficult, lonely, funny, and sometimes exhausting. I admired that. The prose keeps returning to objects, vinyl chairs, folded handkerchiefs, flowers, newspapers, Paco’s clothes, an ugly institutional room, and these details become emotional detonators. Jeanne’s mind is never still; it attacks, remembers, mourns, judges, and revises. The novel makes consciousness feel like a crowded room where history, grief, and political conviction are all speaking at once.
I also appreciated the way the book treats politics as something lived in the body, not merely debated in pamphlets. Jeanne’s communism, pacifism, and anti-colonial anger are not decorative backstory; they shape how she sees chairs, labor, flowers, language, and even the manners of nurses. The novel can be rhetorically intense, and some readers may find Jeanne’s interiority sharp-edged or relentless, but that relentlessness feels honest to the character. The book is most moving when it lets tenderness and fury occupy the same sentence: Paco’s death, Jeanne’s memories of teaching children, her refusal to be patronized, and her terror of dying alone all gather into a portrait that is both intimate and insurgent.
This book is best suited for readers of historical fiction, biographical fiction, feminist fiction, political fiction, and novels about aging, memory, and social justice. Readers who appreciate the moral seriousness of Isabel Allende or the politically charged intimacy of The Book of Night Women by Marlon James may find a similar urgency here, though this novel is quieter, more interior, and more elegiac. Jeanne la femme en rouge is a tribute to a woman history nearly misplaced, and it burns brightest when it lets her remain inconvenient. A vivid, unsentimental novel about a woman who would not become quiet simply because the world preferred her that way.
Pages: 214 | ASIN : B0GHG89KSB
Nothing Left to Lose
Nothing Left to Lose, by Len Joy, is a literary family drama about Tawni Carter, a prominent anti-abortion activist whose public convictions collide painfully with her private life. After she tries to take legal control of her pregnant daughter, Charlotte, Tawni loses more than a court case. She loses trust, family, and the story she has told herself about who she is. The novel moves between 2018, the 1960s, and the early days of COVID, building a layered portrait of mothers, daughters, regret, survival, and the hard work of letting go.
I liked how willing Joy is to sit with complicated people. Tawni could have been written as a symbol, but she isn’t. She’s proud, sharp, manipulative, wounded, funny, selfish, and capable of real tenderness. That makes her frustrating in the way real people can be frustrating. I didn’t always like her. I was not always meant to. But I kept wanting to understand her, and that is where the book earns its emotional weight. The shifts into Clover’s past also give the novel a wider shape, moving it beyond one family crisis into a story about inheritance, not just money or blood, but belief, grief, stubbornness, and love passed from one generation to the next.
Joy’s writing is clean and direct, with dialogue that often carries the charge of a courtroom argument or a family fight at the worst possible moment. The book takes on big issues, abortion, faith, political identity, addiction, aging, illness, and the pandemic, but it works best when those ideas are pressed through intimate scenes. A hospital room. A phone call. A daughter at the door. Those moments feel authentic. I did sometimes feel the novel was juggling a lot, especially as it stretches across decades and social conflicts, but the emotional line stays clear. This is a book about a woman who has built a life around certainty and then has to survive the collapse of that certainty.
I would recommend Nothing Left to Lose to readers who enjoy character-driven literary fiction with the sweep of a family saga and the tension of contemporary social drama. It will especially appeal to readers who like morally messy protagonists, intergenerational stories, and novels that ask hard questions without pretending the answers are easy. It is not a light read, but it is a thoughtful one, and by the end, I felt the title land with force.
Pages: 217 | ASIN : B0GXLJRYWF
Echo Through The Centuries
Tinker follows the estranged daughter of a tax collector who writes under an assumed name as she struggles with family loyalty and the desire to make herself heard. Where did the idea for this novel come from?
The Whiskey Rebellion is a particularly interesting era in American history, as it was the first domestic conflict that truly tested our young nation. France was undergoing its own revolution at the time, and there was a consciousness in American government that the world was watching how it would respond when challenged by its people. The family divisions, the voicelessness, institutional betrayals, and the seeming lack of representation within the government echo through the centuries, and carry a certain timelessness that makes the era relevant.
As an interpreter of history and a storyteller, I wanted to bring this conflict to life through an unconventional character. It enabled me to explore the human side of the conflict with more precision and clarity. Embodying Tinker’s identity within the tax collector’s estranged daughter was a very early choice, before I even compiled my primary sources.
Did you begin with the history itself, or with Caroline’s voice as the lens into that history?
They were simultaneous ideas, but I did not flesh out Caroline’s character until after I completed my historical research on the conflict. Numerous primary sources are available, including several memoirs from participants. Leaning on those sources while building a detailed timeline of the rebellion came before any plotting of Caroline’s story.
Caroline and Tench’s relationship grows through books, argument, and political disagreement. Why was intellectual intimacy important to their connection?
For Caroline to become Tom the Tinker and play the role to the end, she needed strong socio-political values inherited from (and in reaction to) her family. Without her emphasis on justice and intellectual pursuits, she would have given up on Tinker too early for the story to unfold. Tench, as love interest, needed to act as both literary foil and friend. By embodying similar values, prioritized differently, he was free to clash with Caroline in ways that compel them both to make bad choices and face harsh consequences. But their curiosity and intellectual connection kept them coming back together, even as it magnified their flaws. It made them a fun couple to write.
What is the next book you are working on, and when will it be available?
I am currently working on biographical historical fiction set in the early 19th century, telling the life of an early American woman ironmaster. No release date yet!
Author Links: GoodReads | Facebook | Website
Pittsburgh, 1794. The people of western Pennsylvania suffer under a hefty tax on whiskey. When the local militia takes up arms against the hated tax collector, his estranged daughter finds herself caught in the crossfire.
Her safety threatened and her name in tatters, Caroline Neville begs her father to present the farmers’ case to the President and ask for relief. When he refuses, Caroline adopts a nom de guerre, submitting articles to the Gazette under the pseudonym “Tom the Tinker.” She calls for a peaceful gathering to coordinate a plea for the tax’s repeal, hoping to turn the tide before her family’s lives are lost.
Then she meets Tench, the reporter who prints her demands. He’s part of the militia opposing the tax, and he has no idea she’s Tom the Tinker or a Neville. The deeper they fall in love, the harder it is to tell him the truth. Meanwhile, Caroline’s efforts for peace take a turn toward rebellion. As she faces losing her family, her home, and Tench, she must race to put it all right before she’s charged with treason.
TINKER, alternate historical fiction set during the Whiskey Rebellion, is the latest release from Jennifer M. Lane, award-winning author of Of Metal and Earth, Downriver, and The Collected Stories of Ramsbolt.
Tinker
Jennifer M. Lane’s Tinker is a sharp and intimate historical novel set during the Whiskey Rebellion, told through Caroline Neville’s eyes, a woman caught between family loyalty, political unrest, and her own hunger to be heard. Caroline is the daughter of John Neville, whose role in collecting the whiskey tax has made the family name dangerous in western Pennsylvania. From the opening image of her father burned in effigy beneath a “Liberty and No Excise” ribbon, the book makes it clear that Caroline’s world is already on fire, even before she starts writing under the name Tom the Tinker.
What makes the novel work so well is Caroline’s voice. She’s funny, stubborn, observant, and often painfully aware of the ways men underestimate her. Her first battle over a bottle of ink with Tench Coyle is playful, but it also sets up the larger conflict of the book: ink matters because words matter. When Tench later says, “The written word stands as nothing more than a testament to its creation,” it feels like the book is telling us what it’s about.
The romance between Caroline and Tench gives the story warmth without pulling it away from the political stakes. Their connection grows through books, banter, shared ideals, and secrets that can’t stay hidden forever. Tench isn’t just a love interest, and Caroline isn’t simply choosing between love and family. She’s trying to decide what kind of person she’ll be when every side claims righteousness, and when silence might be safer than honesty.
I appreciated the way Lane makes the Whiskey Rebellion feel personal rather than like a history lesson. The tax, the writs, the smashed stills, the burned homes, and the fear spreading through the countryside all come through in lived-in details. Caroline’s position is especially compelling because she sees the farmers’ suffering, but she also understands the people within the Neville household. Her line, “I just wanted people to have some hope and stop feeling powerless,” captures the heart of her choices.
Tinker is a thoughtful and lively novel about voice, consequence, and the messy places where private lives meet public history. It has the sweep of historical fiction, but its best moments are often small ones: a horse betraying Caroline by liking Tench, Nonnie’s blunt wisdom, a family argument that finally cracks something open. The result is a historical fiction novel that feels grounded, romantic, tense, and deeply interested in how ordinary people try to do the right thing when the whole world around them is choosing sides.
Pages: 290 | ASIN : B0GP8XQ481
Exoskeleton
Exoskeleton is a military techno-thriller with strong sci-fi elements, and it reads like a prequel that’s eager to light the fuse. The story follows Alec Byrnes, a former Air Force special operations lieutenant who’s now a bitter paraplegic drinking himself into a corner, pushed hard by his powerful senator father to “play the cards” he’s been dealt. When a secret program offers him a shot at walking again through an experimental exoskeleton suit, Alec throws himself into the work, joins a tight, high-risk unit, and ends up in a widening conspiracy tied to LEGION and a ruthless inner-circle betrayal that turns the mission personal.
The book opens in an emotional place, with Alec’s anger and humiliation sitting right on the surface, and the writing leans into that heat. There’s a lot of close-in sensory detail, the kind that makes you feel the stale breath of last night’s booze and the claustrophobia of being “trapped inside” your own life. It’s not subtle, but it is effective. The author makes a clear choice to keep Alec prickly, sarcastic, and sometimes simply hard to like early on, and I appreciated that commitment. You don’t get a polished hero. You get a guy who’s bleeding on the page and daring you to look away.
Once the story pivots into the program itself, the book becomes more about systems and stakes. There are big chunks where the author explains how the suit works and why it fails, and it’s surprisingly readable because it’s framed as problem-solving and ego, not a lecture. And when the action comes, it does so with zeal. The Alaska sequence, the hostage trap, the close-quarters fight with Amy, it’s nasty and fast and has that cold feel of a nightmare you cannot wake up from. I also liked the underlying idea that “power” is never just hardware. The suit can make a body move, sure, but it doesn’t automatically fix the damage inside the person wearing it. The book keeps exploring that truth even while it’s throwing punches.
By the end, I felt like I’d finished the first part of a bigger story, not a neat standalone novel. The closing pages push the threat outward and set up the next stage of the conflict in a way that’s pretty blunt about what’s coming. I’d recommend this book to readers who like high-energy military thrillers, special-ops team dynamics, and near-future tech that feels just plausible enough to be unsettling. If you enjoy the Tom Clancy energy but you also want exosuits, AI, and conspiracy creep, this will hit the spot. For everyone else, especially fans of action-forward sci-fi thrillers that don’t pretend trauma is tidy, it’s a compelling ride.
Pages: 329 | ASIN : B0GFXXZW3G
A Real Collusion
A Real Collusion is a political thriller told through the eyes of Skip Winters, a mid-level ad guy who looks back on his friendship with John Campbell and the wild rise and fall of a grassroots movement. It starts small, with a silly local fight over cigar smoke at a community board meeting in the Bowery, where John’s angry “I object” moment and a quick handshake outside the gym turn into a tabloid photo and a cable-news booking. From there, Skip helps John ride a wave of viral attention into the creation of the American Coalition, a scrappy effort to break the two-party lock, curb big money, and push more honest voting in Congress. As donors, TV producers, and dark-money groups close in, the story widens from New York to Washington and Philadelphia, where the movement crashes into a secretive business council and a lurking gunman in the crowd, leaving John’s legacy split between real reform and a sense that the system still has its hands on the wheel.
Skip sounds like that smart, slightly bitter friend who tells a story over a drink and keeps circling back to the parts that really hurt. The early chapters are vivid and weirdly fun: folding chairs tipping over in a hot school gym, cops’ lights splashing off old brick, a stunned ride on the F train with the Post open to a photo of your buddy on the front page. The scenes in the bar, the cramped apartment, the ad agency office feel specific and lived in, and the jokes land with a light touch instead of feeling like “political satire.” The author knows how to tighten the screws; the book shifts from goofy excitement to real tension smoothly, and by the time CNN calls and big donors sniff around, the momentum feels natural, not like the plot is dragging the characters along.
I did feel the “novel and exposé” label in the writing. When Skip and John hammer out the American Coalition platform and talk through campaign finance, independent candidates, and the way corporations game the rules, the book turns into a kind of civics lesson. I did not mind that most of the time, because Skip is honest about his own ego and fear, and that keeps the big ideas grounded in one guy’s midlife crisis and his hunger to matter. Still, a few speeches run long, and some side characters can drift toward types more than people. The scenes that follow the BCL and the man in the crowd with a gun, though, hit hard. They show how a hopeful movement can be bent or broken by a handful of people with money and no shame, and they made me uncomfortable in a way that felt earned rather than melodramatic.
The book made me angry, sad, and weirdly hopeful all at once. The introduction lays out a blunt case that the real threat to American democracy comes from inside, from quiet collusion between parties and donors who let inequality balloon while the middle class slides, and the plot keeps circling that point without ever feeling like a pure lecture. I liked how the story shows the media as both amplifier and filter, how a tossed-off joke about both parties “sucking” becomes a brand, how consultants and billionaires talk about “fixing the system” while protecting their own slice. The ending, with John gone and a handful of independents in Congress, hit me hardest; change happens, but not cleanly, and the people who lit the fire do not always get to see the house rebuilt. That left me thinking less about whether the plot was “realistic” in a narrow sense and more about how much of it already feels true.
I would recommend A Real Collusion to readers who enjoy political stories with heart, anyone who follows American politics and feels worn down but not completely checked out, and folks who like character-driven fiction about friendship, compromise, and the cost of sticking your neck out. If you are okay sitting with some ambiguity, some righteous anger, and a stubborn streak of hope, you’ll enjoy this novel.
Pages: 286 | ASIN : B0G5K3BJ1K
The Sinister Nature of Power
The Bent Nail follows a man born into filth and neglect who becomes both a victim and an instrument of a shadowy organization bent on reshaping the world through brutality. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
The inspiration for The Bent Nail, or its predecessor, Nails, came from a sole source. The initial story structure stemmed from a challenge made by a close friend to see if I could develop multiple, separate plot lines and weave them together into a single, coherent, exciting story line. Challenge accepted.
What came from that challenge was the original Nails, a story that introduced the reader to three truly flawed individuals: Tau, Gideon, and Simon; three individuals who erroneously thought they were the uncontested wielders of power in their respective worlds. In effect, they thought they were the hammers of society; individuals who could pound on others and rule with impunity, only to discover their power was an illusion. They were merely nails just like anyone else.
The inspiration for the main character, Tau, is personal experience. I had the opportunity to work closely with an organization whose cause was helping the hopeless. That effort brought me elbow to elbow with people society had cast out into the streets because that was easier than looking for productive alternatives. These people were the products of an unforgiving world, chemical abuse, mental instability, or just bad luck. That was where Tau came from. Tau represents those in our society who are forgotten, lost, and disposed of, but he refuses to be dismissed. He resorts to violence because it’s the advantage he possesses. We fear him because he has nothing to lose. His character hits us hard, not just because he’s a repugnant and vicious individual, but also because he’s so damaged and we see his potential for good.
The story is motivated by what we experience contemporarily. We are bombarded by streams of questionable, repetitive soundbites intended to manipulate, separate, and control. What we end up with is a powerless people subjugated to the will of others. I wanted to portray the sinister nature of power and those individuals who use this to their advantage. Some readers consider The Bent Nail as a warning of the future, others, a reflection of today.
The violence in the book is raw and sometimes difficult to endure. What role does discomfort play in your storytelling?
I wrestled with this. You use the term raw, and it is. And that is very intentional. The violence was necessary to drive home the idea that the world we know is not the comfortable place we believe it to be. A veil of civility might cover up the violent, self-serving nature of man, but that rawness still exists. We see violence, greed, and the desire to control in almost all aspects of society when we look close enough. The Bent Nail challenges us to check ourselves so as not to be seduced by power and wealth.
For me, storytelling requires emotional engagement. Comfort rarely seems to fit with that concept. That’s not to say that my stories are all violent or even troubling. I would suspect many would suggest my Countenance of Man, a touching story of man rediscovering his father through the eyes of others, is emotionally wrenching, but hardly troublesome. The Bent Nail deals with power and corruption; it would be unfair to treat this kindly.
The book challenges the idea of freedom itself. Do you believe freedom is real, conditional, or illusory?
Superb question. Certainly, The Bent Nail would suggest that freedom is illusory, something we think we possess even when the evidence would suggest otherwise. Do I believe that? Not really. In our western society, freedom is absolutely real, not just an abstract concept; however, it is continuously under attack. The struggle is that freedom is not an immutable idea. We have become too comfortable with the notion that freedom never changes, something that once we have it, it will always be there. It’s not. The Bent Nail throws that reality in our face. It challenges us to continuously fight for it even when the consequences might be frightening. In this story, I hope the reader grasps that however frightening it might be to stand up for one’s rights, the alternative is far worse. If not, The Bent Nail becomes something more than a novel; it becomes prophecy.
To quote Benjamin Franklin, “Those who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.
If The Bent Nail leaves readers unsettled long after they close it, what do you hope they do with that feeling?
I hope it leaves the reader unsettled. We live in an unsettled world filled with warring factions fighting for power. The Bent Nail surfaces that and it should bother us all. It illustrates how easy it is for those in authority to manipulate us, be it through engendering class envy, spoon feeding us with blatant misinformation, seducing us with the promise of power, or imposing their will through coercion. Our challenge is to understand who is behind the manipulation and to stand up to them.
The second point I want to leave with the reader is the need to be objective in assessing the world. Not everything is as it seems; adopting the beliefs of friends and neighbors merely because it seems easy and comfortable is dangerous. Of course, if one desires to be nothing but a nail, hammered into acquiescence, in a world similar to one I’ve invented, just keep capitulating to those who desire to control us through power.
Lastly, speaking of power, it is insanely seductive – for all of us. It can overwhelm the desire to do what we know to be right. People might look at these comments in light of what is going on in our society today and assume that The Bent Nail is either right wing or left wing. That’s a perspective thing and would be a tremendous mistake. Neither political side has a monopoly on being correct. Don’t let others tell you what to believe.
M.D. reintroduces the three flawed characters you hated in Nails: Simon, a journalist without a conscience; Gedeon, a murderer without a heart; and Tau, a man without hope. In this masterful sequel, their lives collide as they each struggle to avoid becoming nothing more than hammered nails underpinning a centuries-old, secretive family committed to world dominance. Through deceit, mass murder and economic control the Family seeks to establish a new and lasting world order under their direct and unquestioned authority. Corruption and the seductive nature of power provide the backdrop as Tau, Simon, and Gedeon wrestle with their personal demons as they seek to survive.
Although The Bent Nail is a story that will disturb and frighten even the boldest of readers, it is one that will pull you in and capture you from the first page, a story you won’t be able to put down… and one that you will remember forever.
Dollartorium
Ralph earns his living in a modest Kansas shop, frying corndogs that are undeniably good and reliably popular. The work keeps him afloat for a while. It offers routine, modest comfort, and a sense of pride. Eventually, though, the numbers stop working. Sales stall. Bills pile up. Stability slips away.
At that moment of strain, Ralph’s wife introduces him to “Dollartorium,” a tantalizing promise discovered through an infomercial. The course offers bold ideas and glossy solutions. At first, it feels like salvation. New business concepts suggest a way out, maybe even a breakthrough. Then the foundation collapses. What seemed like an opportunity quickly unravels, leaving Ralph to reckon with the fallout. With the help of his daughter, Stella, he is forced to retrace his steps and search for a more realistic way forward for his family.
Dollartorium, by Ron Pullins, is a work of fiction that probes capitalism, hustle culture, and the pressures these forces place on families. Humor runs throughout the novel, but it never fully softens the sharper insights beneath the surface. The comedy entertains; the implications linger.
Pullins shows a clear awareness of how precarious financial life has become for many people. Ralph’s anxiety feels earned. His frustration resonates. The sense that the system is tilted against ordinary workers gives the story its urgency. The Dollartorium scheme itself feels uncomfortably familiar, echoing countless real-world programs marketed to those already struggling. These promises prey on desperation, and Pullins does not shy away from exposing their ethical rot.
Stella emerges as the novel’s moral and intellectual anchor. She tempers Ralph’s desperation with reason and clarity. Her perspective restores balance and nudges the story toward resolution. Yet even as the family regains its footing, the larger problem remains unresolved. The system that cornered them still stands. Pullins underscores this truth with restraint, allowing the message to land without sermonizing.
The novel closes on a note that is satisfying, though far from idyllic. That choice feels intentional. Pullins has more to say than a neat ending would allow. Through his characters, he gives voice to frustrations that have become commonplace, about inequality, exploitation, and the illusion of easy fixes. The odds remain stacked against the little guy, and the allure of grand, risky schemes proves hard to resist. Dollartorium captures that tension with clarity, humor, and an undercurrent of quiet anger that makes it linger after the final page.
