“When something happens to a child, don’t we always suspect the parents?”
Writing historical, it’s always exciting (terrifying) to find that another writer is covering the same subject. So when Susan Elia MacNeal said, “You’re doing Lindbergh? Wild—I’m doing him too!” I swallowed. Hard.
Thankfully, we were covering the famous aviator in different years, 1932 and 1940. But they were arguably the two lowest points of his life: the kidnapping of his son and his vocal support for the America First movement, inspired in part by his admiration for the Nazi regime. In Susan’s brilliant standalone, Mother, Daughter, Traitor, Spy, Lindbergh is not an onscreen presence, but he looms over the narrative as the acceptable face for fascist sympathizers. In my book The Lindbergh Nanny, he is a young father in the maelstrom of an unspeakable tragedy.
I knew I wasn’t going to have any problem with Susan’s depiction of Lindbergh. I worried she might have problems with mine. We swapped our works in progress. And we talked. Susan did just what I hoped she would do: she pushed me. Why did I think X? What led me to conclude Y? What evidence did I have of A, B, C, or D? Reading Mother, Daughter, Traitor, Spy reminded me that America First was not simply an anti-interventionist movement, but one that encompassed the most toxic elements of our culture: racism, antisemitism, rule of violence over the rule of law. Literally America Worst. It’s one thing to know something intellectually. It’s another to be reminded by riveting, meticulously researched narrative. (Which is exactly why we need these kinds of novels. But I digress.) “My” Lindbergh is years and a shattering life experience away from hers. Nonetheless, I needed to remember this was where he was headed.
Finally, Susan posed the question I started with: “When something happens to a child, don’t we always suspect the parents?” As a reader of true crime who suspects everyone of everything, I took that question to heart. It inspired some changes and one whole new scene. For that, she got a spot in the acknowledgements and a cheese plate—which I think I still owe her.
I am never not grateful for the mystery community, especially its historical wing. But I am even more grateful to Susan for these conversations, particularly the disagreements. Mother, Daughter, Traitor, Spy comes out September, 2022. It’s spectacular—and very important to read right now.