Julie McDonald Zander’s Shattered Peace: A Century of Silence is the kind of book that creeps under your skin quietly and stays there long after you close it. It’s part historical fiction, part emotional excavation, and entirely unforgettable. Set in Centralia, Washington—a real town marked by one of the most violent and misunderstood events in post-WWI America—it bridges a century with remarkable sensitivity, weaving the past and present through the fragile thread of memory, grief, and redemption.
The story begins with Colleen Holmes, a former Navy Seabee who inherits a decaying old house in Centralia. She’s not exactly searching for meaning; she’s looking for something quieter—a pause from her own unrest. But like many of the best haunted houses in literature, this one refuses to stay silent. Hidden behind the plaster walls, Colleen finds a diary and a bundle of letters that carry her (and us) straight back to 1919, to a time when the country was supposed to be celebrating peace but instead was boiling with distrust and fear.
Zander captures this dual timeline with a grace that never feels forced. The past doesn’t just serve as a backdrop—it breathes. Through the found writings, we meet people who lived ordinary lives amid extraordinary turbulence: soldiers broken by the Great War, families navigating the rise of labor unrest, and a town splintered by the violent clash between the American Legion and the Wobblies on that fateful Armistice Day. The historical research here is meticulous, but it never overshadows the humanity pulsing through each chapter. Every discovery Colleen makes is filtered through her own emotional lens, allowing readers to feel the weight of the past without ever losing sight of the living woman uncovering it.
There’s a quiet elegance to Zander’s prose. She doesn’t rely on overwrought description or melodrama; instead, she builds tension with small, perfectly observed details—a nail catching the hem of a curtain, the smell of damp wood, the way a diary page flakes at the touch. Each image adds to the haunting atmosphere, turning the house itself into a kind of time capsule that bleeds emotion.
What really stands out is how Zander handles the concept of inherited trauma. Shattered Peace isn’t just about what happened in 1919—it’s about how silence becomes its own kind of wound. Colleen’s journey mirrors the town’s: both are struggling to reconcile with the ghosts they’ve tried to bury. The more she learns, the more she realizes that the tragedy of Centralia wasn’t just a moment in history but a moral scar that continues to shape generations.
Emotionally, this book hits hard. There are moments of raw sorrow but also of unexpected tenderness. The letters between the soldier and his love back home are beautifully rendered, aching without sentimentality. And as Colleen starts to uncover who these people were, her own healing begins to take shape in parallel. It’s subtle and deeply satisfying—no grand epiphanies, just the quiet recognition that understanding the past is the first step toward making peace with the present.
By the end, Zander delivers something rare: a story that honors history without turning it into a lecture, that offers hope without erasing pain. The pacing is measured, the emotion genuine, and the sense of place so vividly drawn that you can almost hear the rain against the windowpanes and the whispers of those long gone.
For readers who love historical fiction with emotional depth—think Kristin Hannah, Kate Morton, or Fiona Davis—Shattered Peace deserves a permanent place on your shelf. It’s about what lingers in the walls of our lives: guilt, courage, and the yearning to make things right.
Julie McDonald Zander has written something both intimate and expansive, turning a forgotten chapter of American history into a profoundly moving exploration of memory, legacy, and the fragile pursuit of reconciliation. Five stars, without hesitation.