Justine Saracen

I didn't learn in school that "homosexuals" were a group targeted by the Nazis. I distinctly remember first hearing about it in the late 80s from the silence = death campaign created during the early years of the AIDS epidemic. When I came across Justine Saracen's new novel, Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright, I was intrigued by its focus on gay and lesbian Germans trying to negotiate the Nazi regime and WWII.

The novel covers twelve years (from September 8, 1935 to April 18, 1945) in the lives of several characters and explores what each does or doesn't do to resist the barbarity of Nazism and cope with the horrors of war. There were some surprises within the story that I didn't see coming and the novel kept up at a good pace.

The opening scene is right out of Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will (Triumph des Willens, 1935). It literally is. The novel opens on September 8, 1934 with Katja Sommer, the main protagonist, wrapping up the filming of Riefenstahl's masterpiece in Nuremberg. Katja is a young women hoping to build a career in film making, but the job with Riefenstahl was only temporary. Katja is engaged to Dietrich, but is in no hurry to marry her kind, but dull fiancé who is already succumbing to the Nazi's propaganda such as the proper role for women within the Reich (make babies, keep house).

Everyone is full of hope and excitement over the creation of this film, but already there are rumblings of trouble. Riefenstahl insists that the movie she's creating is not propaganda for the Nazi Party. She may declare that "Art is not political," but readers know what is about to unfold.

While Dietrich is off serving in the army, Katja scores a full-time job working for Riefenstahl. She befriends two men, Rudi and Peter, who, she comes to realize, are lovers. Then there's her odd attraction to Frederica Brandt who used to work for Riefenstahl, but now works for Goebbels, Hitler's Minister of Propaganda. Katja is doing her best to go along with the flow, but when a friend is arrested under Paragraph 175 of the German Penal Code (prohibiting male homosexuality) her perspective on what makes one a "Good German" shifts.

The plot really takes off from there and I won't go into more detail because to do so would spoil the reading.

The only stumbling point I had with the novel is that Saracen takes her scenes of the fall of Berlin from the movie Downfall (Der Untergang, 2004) to a degree that made me uncomfortable. It made sense to replicate part of Triumph of the Will in the opening of the novel because the creation of that film is part of the actual story Saracen creates. In a postscript she acknowledges "drawing from" Der Untergang, which I was relieved to see, but it still doesn't sit well with me.

But don't let that keep you from reading Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright. It's a historical novel that is both gripping and heartfelt. I hope it finds a wide audience.… (altro)

I don't think it was just the pleasure of spending a cozy day inside with fluffy white snow falling outside as a backdrop that made Mephisto Aria such a terrific read. With a storyline steeped in opera and history, Justine Saracen's novel offers up suspense, romance, sincerity and wonderful writing. I am not well-versed in opera, but that didn't stop me from enjoying the world our main character Katherina Marov lives in; if anything it made me want to learn more about Faust and other operas referenced throughout Mephisto.

Mephisto Aria centers around Katherina's successful career as a singer and how she struggles in the aftermath of her father's sudden death. When she discovers a hidden journal among the things he left behind, her life is rocked when everything she thought she knew about her family history comes undone. As she does her best to move on with life and her agent keeps getting her new and bigger roles, she meets people bent on destroying her and people who want to help.

Katherina also falls in love along the way, possibly for the very first time ever, and not knowing what to do in the face of seemingly being rejected, gives herself even more passionately to the music that has always been such a huge part of her life.

One thing that surprised me about Mephisto Aria is how clever and original it is. By having the background focus so strongly on opera the forefront plot (with its diabolical elements) gains a palpable plausibility. Drama is saved from becoming melodrama because Justine Saracen is an amazing writer and because opera is the perfect set-up for everything that goes on. With Faust coming into play how can anything else seem ridiculous? It works beautifully.

Another plus: the novel contains an afterword from the author explaining the history behind her work, making this is a perfect treat for any day, snowy or not!… (altro)

Okay, so, I realize that there's not a ton of crossover of those who regularly read James Rollins' SIGMA series and those who read lesbian fiction, but, I read both, and this book is totally a SIGMA like novel, but, with LGBTQ+ characters instead of straight ones. It's so awesome.

It's mainly the story of Joanne and Sara. Although there's also the story of Leonora and the story of another Sarah in there as well. But, the main action, and there was some action for sure, was with Joanne and Sara.

Joanne is a Renaissance Historian and she hires Sara to be her sorta co-historian, sorta researchish assistant, mostly because Sara knows Venetian (Which I guess is different than Italian, you learn something new every day).

They go to Venice and they get knee deep in a conspiracy while they're trying to find out about what happened to Leonora, her press, and her escape from Venice.

But, then, they start finding more beyond that story, and into an even deeper story, the one that got Leonora in trouble in the first place. And, because it is also a romance book, they start getting closer, although, it is quite the slow burn, especially for a BS book.

It was a delightful novel. I haven't read a ton of this sorta puzzle thriller with lgbtq+ main characters, maybe even ever. It wasn't quite a mystery, definitely not just a romance, but an awesome combination of both with some different looks at religion thrown in there for good measure.

And I was sitting there at the end definitely wanting them to have another adventure studying (and getting into all sorts of trouble over) another history mystery of some sort.

So much fun. And the Meta, oh the Meta!!!… (altro)

Sarah, Son of God is the latest in an outstanding line of adventure/mystery novels from Justine Saracen that re-examine history through rainbow-coloured eyes. On the surface, there’s a natural temptation to describe her as the gay/lesbian answer to Dan Brown, but the truth is that she’s so much more than that. Her characters are better developed, the romance is honest (not clichéd), the scenery is breathtaking, and she’s wonderfully adept at letting the history, rather than the puzzle, carry the story along.

Like many of her novels, Justine places an attractive and intelligent woman at the forefront of the story. The fact that Joanna is a lesbian has very real implications. It is used to cast light on the social concerns of the time (late 1960s/early 1970s), and on the religious culture of Venice, but it never dominates the story. Her partner, the exquisite Sara, is something of a unique character in Justine’s work (and what initially attracted me to the story). Sara is transgendered, and although she herself isn’t quite sure where she falls in the transvestite/transsexual spectrum, she is clearly more comfortable in the expression of her femininity. Much like Joanna’s sexuality, her gender has immediate and ongoing implications for both women, and the development of their relationship (both personal and professional) casts its own light on events.

While there is an element of romance here, it’s rather more subdued than in some of Justine’s other novels, but it’s handled beautifully. When Joanna first meets Tadzio, she’s distinctly uncomfortable with the well-dressed young man who so blatantly defies gender stereotypes with his earrings, mascara, and lipstick. Although he knows his languages and his history, Joanna is justifiably concerned for the reaction his appearance is likely to elicit in the religious climate of Venice. When he returns the next day, this time as Sara, a tentative foundation of trust, respect, and friendship is established. Their relationship fluctuates over the course of the story, with both women making significant social gaffes with one another, but it isn’t long before we, as readers, begin to hope for the bloom of romance.

Visually, this is an absolutely gorgeous story, filled with a wealth of detail. Justine travelled extensively in her research, and that commitment to the story shows. From the streets of New York city to the canals of Venice; from the halls of academia to the vaults of the church; from the filthy depths of a Spanish prison cell to the equally filthy decks of a Venetian ship; in each case, Justine sets our feet firmly in the scene and allows us to see and feel not only what she herself witnessed, but what the characters are experiencing.

Historically, this is a tale within a tale, presenting us with the stories of two women – Sarah, whose sacrifice changed history significantly; and Leonora, whose trials have made it possible for that sacrifice to finally come to light. Much of the story is told through a series of letters written by Leonora, detailing her captivity, torture, and treacherous escape from the hands of the Inquisition. All of this is a result of her involvement in publishing the story of Sarah, which takes us back to ancient Rome, and provides an interesting eye-witness account of Jesus and his disciples. Of course, it’s not quite as simple as that, but to reveal the significance of her account, and why the Church has killed to keep it hidden, would be to spoil the mystery.

Overall, this is a story that works – and satisfies – on so many levels. It’s entertaining and informative, inspiring and challenging. There is no question that the mystery of Sarah’s story is controversial, but it’s a very interesting approach to history . . . and one that I, personally, found very attractive. Some readers may have trouble getting past their emotional response to the secret, but it truly is worth the effort involved. Definitely recommended.… (altro)