From the award-winning author of The Palace of the Snow Queen comes a novel about love and independence in 19th century Denmark. Inspired by the relationship between the composer Carl Nielsen and the artist and ethnographer Emilie Demant Hatt, Fossil Island tells the story of two Nik is a fourteen-year-old tomboy who spends her time fossilizing on the nearby island of Fur. Her older sister Maj is studying to be a teacher, along with her best friend, the fiery Eva Sandström. During the summer of 1887, their Aunt Marie introduces into the family a handsome young musician of twenty-two. Flirtation turns to a secret romance between Nik and Carl, as Maj weighs an engagement over her intense friendship with Eva. The following year in Copenhagen brings the sisters' lives to the crisis point as they juggle passion, jealousy, and violent events. Fossil Island is the first of two novels about Nik and its sequel, The Former World, continues their story.
I’m a writer of nonfiction, including memoirs (Blue Windows) and travel books (The Pirate Queen). As Barbara Sjoholm I have published essays and travel articles in The New York Times, Smithsonian, Slate, and American Scholar, as well as many other publications. My focus as a nonfiction writer has been on Scandinavia and the Indigenous Sami people of the Nordic countries (Black Fox, Palace of the Snow Queen). I also translate from Danish (By the Fire: Sami Folktales) and Norwegian (Clearing Out by Helene Uri).
As Barbara Wilson I have a long career as a mystery writer, with two series featuring lesbian sleuths, Pam Nilsen, a printer in Seattle, and the globe-trotting translator Cassandra Reilly. Gaudi Afternoon, with Cassandra, and set in Barcelona, was awarded a Lambda and a British Crime Writers Award and made into a film with Judy Davis and Marcia Gay Harden. After a bit of a hiatus, I've resumed writing mysteries with Cassandra Reilly. The latest is Not the Real Jupiter, with more to follow.
Not for me. I struggled through the first 30 pages, trying to get interested. Sadly, in the style of Jane Austin (endless description - and an author of whom I'm not fond, unlike the rest of the world). So, I'm moving on.