A few weeks ago I got a lovely email from a new acquaintance who had just finished my novel The Fourteenth of September. Yes, she did like it, but added that she’d never before read fiction from the Vietnam era, and that made it a particularly “unusual and very interesting read.” I was surprised since she’s only a generation behind the characters in the story.

It reminded me of a presentation I made during the novel's launch about the dearth of fiction about the war, but especially by and about women. I commented that in the 75+ years since WWII there had been a consistent run of new novels and movies about that war that featured unique slices of female experience, i.e., The Zookeeper’s Wife, The Lilac Girls, All the Light We Cannot See and, of course, The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. However, in the 50+ years after Vietnam, after an initial burst of male-centered, combat-related stories and movies, there has been nowhere near the attention.

I made the case that we writers had barely scratched the surface of the war in general, but particularly the experience of women during that time, and we needed to catch up.

Yes, there had been reasons to skirt the subject (we lost the war, we behaved badly to our vets, there were atrocities). However, if you agree with the point of view that though we learn our history from facts we understand it from narratives, avoiding the subject has left a hole in our history, one I’ve learned subsequent generations often don’t even know enough to ask about. 

So I’m thrilled that Kristen Hannah's new novel The Women topped the New York Times bestseller list for weeks and is creating the type of curiosity and interest this complicated era—with strong echoes to today’s world—deserves. As a writer, Hannah has nailed the relatable female voice that takes readers into the action of many of history's untold stories and gives them fresh blood. I'm delighted at her success with the story, and also how closely a companion it is to my own, and how the incidents and attitudes of the changing war impacted our two fictional nurses. There has always been more to the story, as illustrated by our main characters who come from "opposing " perspectives yet arrive in similar places.

Women Can Be Heroes,Too

Hannah's character Frankie comes from a privileged background in 1965, when the war was patriotic, our cause (stopping the domino effect of communism) was righteous, and the assumption that the US would win was absolute. Her coming of age as a combat nurse where she navigates life and death situations by the second, convinced that women can also be heroes, is complicated by the sexism of the times and an unsupportive family that doesn’t understand why a girl would even consider going to Vietnam. When Frankie comes home it's to a country divided, a family confused. Her story of being marginalized as both a vet and a woman leads to a powerful portrait of post traumatic stress disorder as vivid as that of any man's. Hannah wins her point: Women are heroes, however unsung. They deserve an equal spotlight.

Women Don’t Need to be In Country to Be Heros

In 1969 my character Judy is in college on a military nursing scholarship. It’s the only way she can afford the education required to live the independent life she wants, a choice championed by her mother, a former WWII combat nurse. When she graduates, she’ll be off to Vietnam, if it’s still going on.

But by this time the war had changed: patriotism had waned, “progress” had descended into body counts reported on the evening news, and the country was dividing as it grappled with how long it should continue when the objective was no longer clear.

 Judy's career decision becomes challenged daily as the escalating war comes to campus. When the first birthdate drawn in the new Draft Lottery is September 14, her own birthday, she realizes that with a flip of a chromosome she’d be off to the front lines at a time when it had become a death sentence. She goes “underground” into the antiwar movement trying to save both her future and her conscience by helping stop the war before she has to join it. Being a nurse is noble and needed, but does it also mean she’s complicit in supporting a war that is killing off her generation? Does true integrity mean she should give up her scholarship, her ticket to the life she needs and wants? She faces pushback on both sides—from her military family who doesn’t understand why this war is different from their war, to fellow protestors who don’t listen to her because she’s a girl and the enemy won’t be shooting at her. No one understands why she should care. Judy’s coming of age becomes her coming-of-conscience choice, as ultimately she is forced to make a decision as fraught as the one faced by any male lottery draftee.  Point made: women have equal agency whatever their contribution.

A Story That Still Needs Telling

Two women with the same need to make a difference with their lives, the same calling, facing the same sexism and incredulity over their principles and patriotism. One on one side of the war, one on the other. It's two sides of an eternal story in a divided country. Another story idea springs to mind—how would we tell it today, with so much at stake and women’s rights in jeopardy? 

I remember my mother, a combat nurse in WWII who saw much more action than my father, was consistently marginalized when no one wanted to hear her story because she was "just a nurse." Telling Judy's story was a way to give her standing, to show that her experiences and choices were as significant as those of any male soldier. The experiences of men and women in war (as in life, right?) are equally patriotic, heroic, horrific, and complicated. They may be different but should be valued equally. That's why I wrote The Fourteenth of September, and it appears why Hannah wrote The Women. I hope you'll read them both. as they tell a robust story of women in war.

Book Club Opportunity

I can’t help but think that reading these two books together would be an irresistible book club experience. Just imagine the discussions you’ll have. Read The Women first, The Fourteenth of September second. As one avid reader of both recently told me, back to back “they continue the story.” I’d been happy to zoom in. 

Update on Last Sunset in San Miguel

The latest news is that I’m finishing up what I hope are final edits on the manuscript for this second novel of mine. I’ve gone through many drafts, as you can imagine, and credit my wonderful first editor, Barb Shoup, and copyeditor, Linda Naslund, for helping me get it all on the page. I’m now working closely with my terrific developmental editor, Andrea Robinson. I’ve also been verbally pitching the story idea to agents at recent conferences, and it’s been well received. So for the next six-eight weeks I’ll have my nose on the grindstone getting the manuscript ready to send out. It’s a long process, as many of you know. I could use another stint at Ragdale, that magical place of inspiration and productivity, but my old neck injury talks to me and the Bod Squad I’ve assembled to keep my spine in order has convinced me I can no longer take a three-week retreat with that much relentless at-the-computer intensity. Instead, I will try to recreate the retreat atmosphere in my own home office, with many breaks and visits from Bod Squad members (massage therapist, trainer, movement expert). 

Wish me luck.