Genre Fiction
![Carol Edgarian - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B001HD414K.jpg)
Vera: A Novel
New York Times bestselling author Carol Edgarian delivers "an all-encompassing and enthralling" (Oprah Daily) novel featuring an unforgettable heroine coming of age in the aftermath of catastrophe, and her quest for love and reinvention.
Meet Vera Johnson, fifteen-year-old illegitimate daughter of Rose, notorious proprietor of San Francisco's most legendary bordello. Vera has grown up straddling two worlds-the madam's alluring sphere, replete with tickets to the opera, surly henchmen, and scant morality, and the quiet domestic life of the family paid to raise her.
On the morning of the great quake, Vera's worlds collide. As the city burns and looters vie with the injured, orphaned, and starving, Vera and her guileless sister, Pie, are cast adrift. Disregarding societal norms and prejudices, Vera begins to imagine a new kind of life. She collaborates with Tan, her former rival, and forges an unlikely family of survivors, navigating through the disaster together.
"A character-driven novel about family, power, and loyalty, (San Francisco Chronicle), Vera brings to life legendary characters-tenor Enrico Caruso, indicted mayor Eugene Schmitz and boss Abe Ruef, tabloid celebrity Alma Spreckels. This "brilliantly conceived and beautifully realized" (Booklist, starred review) tale of improbable outcomes and alliances takes hold from the first page, with remarkable scenes of devastation, renewal, and joy. Vera celebrates the audacious fortitude of its young heroine, who discovers an unexpected strength in unprecedented times.
Meet Vera Johnson, fifteen-year-old illegitimate daughter of Rose, notorious proprietor of San Francisco's most legendary bordello. Vera has grown up straddling two worlds-the madam's alluring sphere, replete with tickets to the opera, surly henchmen, and scant morality, and the quiet domestic life of the family paid to raise her.
On the morning of the great quake, Vera's worlds collide. As the city burns and looters vie with the injured, orphaned, and starving, Vera and her guileless sister, Pie, are cast adrift. Disregarding societal norms and prejudices, Vera begins to imagine a new kind of life. She collaborates with Tan, her former rival, and forges an unlikely family of survivors, navigating through the disaster together.
"A character-driven novel about family, power, and loyalty, (San Francisco Chronicle), Vera brings to life legendary characters-tenor Enrico Caruso, indicted mayor Eugene Schmitz and boss Abe Ruef, tabloid celebrity Alma Spreckels. This "brilliantly conceived and beautifully realized" (Booklist, starred review) tale of improbable outcomes and alliances takes hold from the first page, with remarkable scenes of devastation, renewal, and joy. Vera celebrates the audacious fortitude of its young heroine, who discovers an unexpected strength in unprecedented times.
Editorial Reviews
"An all-encompassing and enthralling historical novel, Vera parallels with the current era, and all of its accompanying losses." -O, The Oprah Magazine
"Written with distinctive and elegant prose, Edgarian paints a beautiful portrait of devastation… at times reminiscent of Doctorow's Ragtime... a character-driven novel about family, power and loyalty, Vera ultimately asks if it's possible to belong to another person." -San Francisco Chronicle
"Immersive. . . . Vera is a reverent ode to the resiliency of San Francisco and her people." -San Francisco Examiner
"Edgarian's gritty yet hopeful historical novel doesn't gloss over the countless tragedies rising like the smoke and dust in the 500 devastated city blocks, but Vera personifies the pluck that revived San Francisco... riveting." -Shelf Awareness
"Brilliantly conceived and beautifully realized." -Booklist, STARRED review
"Edgarian weaves a wonderful tale of struggle, youth, perseverance, love and the lack of it, and much of what makes us human beings... captures a difficult but evocative time in the life of one of America's great cities. It is well worth a read for this alone, if not for the gripping story of a young girl's struggle and coming to age during the life-shattering events of the earthquake and fires of 1906." -New York Journal of Books
"If there's a book that speaks urgently to a time of grief, resilience, wounding loneliness, and collective hope in one of the deadliest pandemics in history, it is Vera-a work to be cherished for what it uncovers in the pages and, possibly, the heart of the reader." -LA Review of Books
"Edgarian's work contends elegantly and meticulously with historical detail, placing us at the center of a fateful event and allowing us to imagine how we'd respond… The star of Vera-sparkling with luxuriance and offering hope in the midst of devastation-is San Francisco, the great civic entity that reinvents itself time and again." -Alta
"The City by the Bay, leveled by the 1906 earthquake and fire, is vividly evoked in Edgarian's engrossing saga… an ingenious Vera navigates a world sharply divided by affluence and poverty that exposes discrimination and injustice, requiring a special resilience to survive." -The National Book Review
"Engaging…memorable…Vera is feisty and chafes at the confines of life in this era; her refusal to conform brings to mind a more street-savvy Scout Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. She is forced to ...
"Written with distinctive and elegant prose, Edgarian paints a beautiful portrait of devastation… at times reminiscent of Doctorow's Ragtime... a character-driven novel about family, power and loyalty, Vera ultimately asks if it's possible to belong to another person." -San Francisco Chronicle
"Immersive. . . . Vera is a reverent ode to the resiliency of San Francisco and her people." -San Francisco Examiner
"Edgarian's gritty yet hopeful historical novel doesn't gloss over the countless tragedies rising like the smoke and dust in the 500 devastated city blocks, but Vera personifies the pluck that revived San Francisco... riveting." -Shelf Awareness
"Brilliantly conceived and beautifully realized." -Booklist, STARRED review
"Edgarian weaves a wonderful tale of struggle, youth, perseverance, love and the lack of it, and much of what makes us human beings... captures a difficult but evocative time in the life of one of America's great cities. It is well worth a read for this alone, if not for the gripping story of a young girl's struggle and coming to age during the life-shattering events of the earthquake and fires of 1906." -New York Journal of Books
"If there's a book that speaks urgently to a time of grief, resilience, wounding loneliness, and collective hope in one of the deadliest pandemics in history, it is Vera-a work to be cherished for what it uncovers in the pages and, possibly, the heart of the reader." -LA Review of Books
"Edgarian's work contends elegantly and meticulously with historical detail, placing us at the center of a fateful event and allowing us to imagine how we'd respond… The star of Vera-sparkling with luxuriance and offering hope in the midst of devastation-is San Francisco, the great civic entity that reinvents itself time and again." -Alta
"The City by the Bay, leveled by the 1906 earthquake and fire, is vividly evoked in Edgarian's engrossing saga… an ingenious Vera navigates a world sharply divided by affluence and poverty that exposes discrimination and injustice, requiring a special resilience to survive." -The National Book Review
"Engaging…memorable…Vera is feisty and chafes at the confines of life in this era; her refusal to conform brings to mind a more street-savvy Scout Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. She is forced to ...
Readers Top Reviews
Gloria B.
I bought into the hype and all the 5 star reviews. I so seldom do that and so wish I hadn't with this book. I never found the flow of the author's writing. It was a chore to keep reading, but I did finish. As a whole, this reader felt empty at the end. A sad thing to say after reading a book about such a monumental part of history.
MelissaGloria B.
I read fiction to escape and escape I did, as I traveled by Vera’s side throughout her story, feeling the emotions, hearing the sounds, seeing the pomp and circumstance, and then the devastation wrought by the earthquake and the subsequent fire that leveled San Francisco. But the relationships between and among the many characters brought the story to life, even the human and animal relationships. Vera is truly her mother’s daughter, enabling her to survive, but in the end Vera is by far the stronger and better person. Now I want to go to San Francisco to see the places Vera saw, and travel where Vera traveled. What a story she tells!
AnneMelissaGloria
Wonderful characters that make history come alive. The earthquake of 1906 was not just an event but a real experience for many. Tragedy and fortitude. Young female protagonist is a very compelling voice.
Mikey Jr.pierce s
Given its prerelease publicity, I expected more--a predictable plot and predictable characters. The author probably had a tough job developing the Chinese characters given the racist social climate in 1906 while keeping 2021 reader sensibilities. Even so, I thought she could have done a better job with the Chinese characters given the author's proximity to SF and Oakland Asian communities. As a Chinese American, I felt my back arching at times. OK for a historical fiction novel but pretty lightweight.
Mikey Jr.pierc
I grew up listening to my grandmother tell of her childhood's major event: The San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Edgarian's book brings this drama to life in a way that no other author has done well. For two nonstop days I was in the world of Vera with her will to survive and grow up amidst a background of personal trauma and environmental pandemonium. Vera does this with courage, wry humor, spunk, smarts and diverse allies. Make no mistake, however, this is a novel for today and all times and not merely a wonderful historical novel. What qualities of character get us through the hardships of any era whether earthquake or health pandemic? How do our choices of inclusivity and friendship inform our options and outcomes? How do city politics of greed, corruption and ego impact daily lives of citizens? How do we each learn about our past and put it in evolving context as we grow up, reflect and evolve over a lifetime? Give yourself and your friends the gift of VERA to explore Edgarian's answers through her delightful, engaging and timeless characters!
Short Excerpt Teaser
Birthday Birthday
Being a bastard and almost orphan, I never took for granted the trappings of home. My fifteenth birthday fell on a Monday that year, 1906. In nine days, the world I knew would be gone. The house, the neighborhood, our city, gone.
I am the only one left to tell it.
It was springtime. First thing before breakfast, my sister, Pie, and I made our lady loops-to Fort Mason and back. We were two girls exercising one unruly dog.
Pie walked slowly, having just the one speed, her hat and parasol canted at a fetching angle. She was eighteen and this was her moment. All of Morie's friends said so. "Your daughter Pie is grace in her bones," they said. And it was true: Pie carried that silk net high above her head, a queen holding aloft her fluttery crown.
Now, grace was a word Morie's friends never hung on me. I walked fast, talked fast, scowled. I carried the stick of my parasol hard on my shoulder, with all the delicacy of a miner carting a shovel. The morning sun blasted my cheeks, and anyone fool enough to come up behind me risked getting his eye poked. We were sisters by arrangement, not blood, and though Pie was superior in most ways, I was the boss and that's how we'd go.
As we turned from the house, our dog Rogue, a noble-hearted Rottweiler mix, ran into the alley after a bird. Rogue had been acting queerly all morning, flashing me the whites of his eyes, even when I called to him with a knob of cheese in my hand. It was as if he knew what was coming, as if he could feel the rumbling beneath his paws.
"Slow down!" Pie begged, knowing I wouldn't heel either. I had what Morie-Pie's mother, the widow who raised me-called willful unhearing. The welts on my legs from Morie's most recent whacking with the boar-bristle brush proved it. With every step my skirt hit where I hurt, and with every step I went faster. I would have flown like that bird if I could.
The day was unusually mild, fogless. You'd have to be a grim widow not to feel the lark in it. We lived on bustling Francisco Street, close to the canneries and piers, where the air was always cool and briny. Ours wasn't a fancy block, working-class. As we headed west, to our right sat the glorious bay-and beyond the bay, the Marin Headlands, green this time of year.
We were on Easter break, and free to walk the long way. Pie had arranged to meet up with her best friend, Eugenie Schmitz, at the corner of Van Ness Avenue. Pie was eager to tell Eugenie her big news. I was just glad to be out of the house.
"Make a wish," Pie called, pumping her arms to keep up, "for your birthday."
I glanced over my shoulder and rolled my eyes, pretending I didn't care. "Why," I said, "when it never comes true?"
My wish was urgent, the same every year. It made me cross to have to think it again. Instead I looked to my left, to where San Francisco rose on tiptoe. Seeing her in her morning whites always made me feel better. My city was young, bold, having burned to the ground five times and five times come back richer and more brazen. To know her was to hold in your heart the up-downness of things. Her curves and hollows, her extremes. Her windy peaks and mini-climates. Her beauty, her trembling. Her greed.
At Saint Dominic's, the nuns taught us that we were lucky to live in San Francisco, our city being an elusive place, easy to love, hard to keep-especially for those who don't deserve her. They taught us about the Spanish conquistadors, who sailed for years, fighting tides and hurricanes, scurvy and venereal disease in search of her; they starved themselves on hardtack, their ships battered, their tongues blistered from wind and a scarcity of water, yet still they managed to rape and pillage, and therefore, as God's punishment, they were standing on the wrong side of the boat when they passed the fogbound Golden Gate. All that trouble, all those years, and they missed the pearl-not once but twice. "Careful of handsome fools," warned the sisters.
"If I were a conquistador," I said to Pie, "I wouldn't miss what was right in front of my long Spanish nose."
"Not everyone is as vigilant as you," my sister observed.
The truth about Pie, and I loved her no less for this, was that she didn't question things, and I questioned too much. "Then pox on the Spaniards too," I said, just to hear her laugh. And because she was laughing, I considered it fair to ask, "Pie?"
"Yah?"
"I know you want to tell Eugenie, but tell me first: What happened last night with James?"
She...
Being a bastard and almost orphan, I never took for granted the trappings of home. My fifteenth birthday fell on a Monday that year, 1906. In nine days, the world I knew would be gone. The house, the neighborhood, our city, gone.
I am the only one left to tell it.
It was springtime. First thing before breakfast, my sister, Pie, and I made our lady loops-to Fort Mason and back. We were two girls exercising one unruly dog.
Pie walked slowly, having just the one speed, her hat and parasol canted at a fetching angle. She was eighteen and this was her moment. All of Morie's friends said so. "Your daughter Pie is grace in her bones," they said. And it was true: Pie carried that silk net high above her head, a queen holding aloft her fluttery crown.
Now, grace was a word Morie's friends never hung on me. I walked fast, talked fast, scowled. I carried the stick of my parasol hard on my shoulder, with all the delicacy of a miner carting a shovel. The morning sun blasted my cheeks, and anyone fool enough to come up behind me risked getting his eye poked. We were sisters by arrangement, not blood, and though Pie was superior in most ways, I was the boss and that's how we'd go.
As we turned from the house, our dog Rogue, a noble-hearted Rottweiler mix, ran into the alley after a bird. Rogue had been acting queerly all morning, flashing me the whites of his eyes, even when I called to him with a knob of cheese in my hand. It was as if he knew what was coming, as if he could feel the rumbling beneath his paws.
"Slow down!" Pie begged, knowing I wouldn't heel either. I had what Morie-Pie's mother, the widow who raised me-called willful unhearing. The welts on my legs from Morie's most recent whacking with the boar-bristle brush proved it. With every step my skirt hit where I hurt, and with every step I went faster. I would have flown like that bird if I could.
The day was unusually mild, fogless. You'd have to be a grim widow not to feel the lark in it. We lived on bustling Francisco Street, close to the canneries and piers, where the air was always cool and briny. Ours wasn't a fancy block, working-class. As we headed west, to our right sat the glorious bay-and beyond the bay, the Marin Headlands, green this time of year.
We were on Easter break, and free to walk the long way. Pie had arranged to meet up with her best friend, Eugenie Schmitz, at the corner of Van Ness Avenue. Pie was eager to tell Eugenie her big news. I was just glad to be out of the house.
"Make a wish," Pie called, pumping her arms to keep up, "for your birthday."
I glanced over my shoulder and rolled my eyes, pretending I didn't care. "Why," I said, "when it never comes true?"
My wish was urgent, the same every year. It made me cross to have to think it again. Instead I looked to my left, to where San Francisco rose on tiptoe. Seeing her in her morning whites always made me feel better. My city was young, bold, having burned to the ground five times and five times come back richer and more brazen. To know her was to hold in your heart the up-downness of things. Her curves and hollows, her extremes. Her windy peaks and mini-climates. Her beauty, her trembling. Her greed.
At Saint Dominic's, the nuns taught us that we were lucky to live in San Francisco, our city being an elusive place, easy to love, hard to keep-especially for those who don't deserve her. They taught us about the Spanish conquistadors, who sailed for years, fighting tides and hurricanes, scurvy and venereal disease in search of her; they starved themselves on hardtack, their ships battered, their tongues blistered from wind and a scarcity of water, yet still they managed to rape and pillage, and therefore, as God's punishment, they were standing on the wrong side of the boat when they passed the fogbound Golden Gate. All that trouble, all those years, and they missed the pearl-not once but twice. "Careful of handsome fools," warned the sisters.
"If I were a conquistador," I said to Pie, "I wouldn't miss what was right in front of my long Spanish nose."
"Not everyone is as vigilant as you," my sister observed.
The truth about Pie, and I loved her no less for this, was that she didn't question things, and I questioned too much. "Then pox on the Spaniards too," I said, just to hear her laugh. And because she was laughing, I considered it fair to ask, "Pie?"
"Yah?"
"I know you want to tell Eugenie, but tell me first: What happened last night with James?"
She...
