Today, I’m chatting with Kathleen Shoop about her captivating historical novel, The Fern Flower. Set against the turbulent backdrop of Imperial Russia, the First World War, and the Russian Revolution, the novel follows gifted young ballerina Mila Belova as folklore, friendship, ambition, and art become intertwined with a rapidly changing world. Join us as Kathleen discusses the Slavic legend that inspired the story, the fascinating world of the Imperial Ballet School, and the extensive research that helped bring Mila’s extraordinary journey to life.
But first, let's check out The Fern Flower
Russia 1908-1917
Every good folktale reveals villains and heroes. Mila Belova’s world is overflowing with both.
Born into privilege as the daughter of the Tsar’s favored vodka maker, Mila appears to have everything: wealth, status, and a household devoted to her happiness. But behind the gilded doors of her family estate, she is trapped by the cruelty of a stepmother whose greatest wish is to give birth to her own child.
Each summer on Ivan Kupala Eve, Russia turns its gaze to river bends and forest floors in search of the legendary Fern Flower—a mythical bloom said to grant fortune, power, and the deepest desires of the heart. Only one person had ever found it.
Until Mila.
Years later, in the fading grandeur of Petrograd, Mila and her friends slip into the fabled Stray Dog Café, once the sanctuary of Russia’s most daring artists and dreamers. Inspired by its ghosts, murals, and memories, Mila's group resurrects the work she'd first imagined as a child. The Fern Flower is a breathtaking ballet drawn from folklore, magic, and the secrets of Mila’s past.
But in the fiercely competitive ranks of the Imperial Ballet School, talent is never enough. Though Mila wrote the ballet and her gifted musician friend composed its score, rivals question whether Mila is worthy of claiming the coveted lead role.
As World War I intensifies and revolution ignites, the Russia Mila knows begins to collapse. Family secrets surface, loyalties are tested, and the people she loves begin to disappear. When her parents flee and her young brother’s life hangs in the balance, Mila is faced with an impossible choice: remain with the found family who helped her chase her dreams or risk everything to save the person who needs her most.
With Russian folklore, imperial grandeur, and the fierce beauty of ballet, The Fern Flower is a sweeping tale of ambition, friendship, sacrifice, and the magic that survives even when the world is falling apart.
The Fern Flower is inspired by a legendary bloom from Slavic folklore said to grant a person's deepest desires. What first drew you to this myth, and how did it become the foundation of Mila Belova's story?
The Fern Flower myth came to be a central part of Mila's story when research turned up how important Ivan Kupala (a midsummer celebration with matchmaking rituals, the hunt for The Fern Flower, and more) was for families and friends. It took cycles of writing and layering in details before the idea developed that the ballet that Mila and her musician friend, Galena, create was more than just something fun two gifted kids did when they were young. As I wrote and learned about the artistic importance Russians placed on dance, music, and arts and sciences, I knew that the political environment would come into play for Mila. Ballet was more than just something she loved.
Mila's journey unfolds against the backdrop of Imperial Russia, World War I, and the Russian Revolution. What challenges did you face in balancing the personal story of one young woman with such sweeping historical events?
Again, like with the Fern Flower mythology, the gritty realities of life in St. Petersburg/Petrograd from 1908-1917 had to move from info dump status/background info to being threaded into the very being of Mila's existence. That process takes a long time for me to manage and the only way is through multiple drafts with eagle-eyed readers who can help notice whether I've achieved what I say I want a section to be or not. I wish my brain was neater and that two drafts would do it!
The world of ballet plays a central role in the novel. What inspired you to set much of the story within the fiercely competitive environment of the Imperial Ballet School?
Oh my gosh, I'm not sure other than from the beginning I knew Mila needed to be a gifted ballerina. So, she would have to go to the ballet school in order to find her way, to be saved, and to create the person she was meant to become. Soooo much fascinating fact to inspire the fiction. The autobiographies of famous Russian dancers of the time were incredibly helpful. I kept making things up and thinking "no way will readers believe this is possible," and then I'd read another autobiography and find out that the nearly magical, strange, oppressive, yet life giving element I'd dreamed up had a parallel real life event. That's the wonder of writing, when the imagination has its roots in reality and then the author discovers the connection.
Folklore, magic, and history are woven together throughout the novel. How did you approach blending these elements while maintaining a sense of authenticity?
Again, cycles of writing came into play. I have mounds of notes and print outs and books about the areas of focus. I try to keep a master list of things I know have to be worked into the narrative so that the story comes across as organic and natural. Hopefully anything that could be called a contrivance is massaged into what reads as "truth," true to the story and characters, anyway. I try to be sure that if I put a samovar into the story that people are using it. Yes, there's some window dressing, but I try to only include things that are meaningful to the characters in some way.
Mila discovers the Fern Flower as a child, but its influence seems to echo throughout her life. What does the legendary flower symbolise for you within the story?
Perhaps the search for the flower is an attempt to maintain hope in a world that was bleak at times. The ballet libretto (storyline), inspired by the myth, is just that. The search for the flower—first to find it and then to reverse the curse—is both daunting, but at its heart an attempt to believe that your actions can right wrongs and change the world. Likewise, Mila, Galena, and their growing crew of artists are piecing together bits of hope through creating a ballet and performance that is meaningful and lasting at a time when their world is falling apart literally. They are also combining traditional ballet elements with new choreography and costuming. They hope this will soften anything offensive to the revolutionaries who saw ballet only as an arm of the Tsar. The idea that the ballet they wrote is based on the Russian myth of the Fern Flower provides a strong connection to Russian life. Their performance for the revolutionaries and workers drew from when Mathilde Kschessinska performed for revolutionaries and won them over. That morsel got me thinking about how Mila's big night was rooted in "truth."
The Stray Dog Café was a real gathering place for artists, poets, and intellectuals in pre-revolutionary Russia. What fascinated you most about this vibrant cultural world?
Thinking back to researching, I'm sure I stumbled upon the café when I read Tamara Karsavina's autobiography. She performed there, barefoot, and somewhere in a few private collections there are a limited number of books that illustrate with art and poetry just how magical Karsavina's performance there was. The café was the embodiment of how art and politics collide (the artists who frequented the café were a threat to the Imperial way of life) and I knew that there had to be a way Mila and her friends would connect to it, even if in reality the café was closed before they were of the age to contribute. Like so many plot points in Fern, history left open doors for my fiction to walk through.
Family loyalty, friendship, ambition, and sacrifice all play important roles in the novel. Which of these themes resonated most strongly with you while writing Mila's story?
Probably friendship and ambition as it was tied to the arts. I believe all art is political. The fact that someone can write or draw or dance in the way they're moved to, is by its virtue political. If you can't do those things, you realize quickly, "Oh, just reading a book, any book I choose without being arrested, means I'm free." Same with gathering to make music or put on plays. We forget until there are restrictions on content that we aren't free if we can't do those things freely. So Mila and her cohorts, sneaking around creating something that they viewed as important but risky, relied on the bonds of friendship to meet their ambitions.
Your novels often place women at the centre of transformative moments in history. What draws you to writing female characters whose lives intersect with major historical events?
Women are at least half at the center of everything. They might not always be invited into the room, or asked for their choreography, or ideas, but they are holding up the world outside the "important" spaces where powerful people succeed and fail. I love writing about the men who love these women or whose opposition strengthens the women's resolve. And the women who love the ordinary, who make magic out of every little thing they do are as inspiring to me as the powerful, notable women in history. In Russia during the revolution, it was women who led the bread protests. I think Lenin was in Switzerland, Trotsky was in NYC, and Stalin was in Siberia when women started the revolution, demanding that they have resources to provide for their children. Those men then capitalized on the very organic movement that unnamed women began.
Researching a novel set in Russia between 1908 and 1917 must have been a fascinating undertaking. Were there any discoveries that particularly surprised or inspired you during the writing process?
I mentioned many in the sections above. I kept getting surprised by facts and traditions. Many of the traditions I'm familiar with as an American where cultures have mixed, yet, often families and communities (in Pittsburgh, anyway) have maintained cultural and religious habits from their ancestors home countries. Even some of the foods my Croatian grandmother made and baked were very similar to Russian recipes. Not everything—there was no samovar in her house, but she did make the same cookies every Christmas that I found when researching to name one parallel. Slavic communities in Pittsburgh held similar interests and traditions early on in my life and so double checking that my memory wasn't changing a fact to something inaccurate was important.
The stories of Imperial ballerinas were what surprised me most. Every other line of Karsavina, Kschessinska, Pavlova, and biographical info on Spessivtseva provided info that supported what I'd invented or provided inspiration for character development or plot. Before writing The Fern Flower when I thought of Russian ballet I thought of Soviet Russia and ballerinas who were tightly controlled by the government. I thought no way can I write about students sneaking around or getting special privileges, but the research revealed that there was a mix of excessive watchfulness and opportunity before the revolution. It wasn't permissive by any stretch, but there was room for me to write mischief into the book. Other surprises came when I found two escape routes that inspired the path Mila took out of Russia, both by performers. One was Karsavina's path out. And another path that was revealed in researching was that of a Black American, Pearl Hobson, a famous performer in Russia.
The Fern Flower explores the idea of holding onto beauty, hope, and creativity while the world around you is changing beyond recognition. What do you hope readers take away from Mila's journey?
Resilience and dedication to creating something that matters beyond your own life. That ballet Galena and Mila wrote is still making its rounds in the ballet school, in the ballet world (Was that real? Or just pretend? Does it matter?) Unlike being a doctor or nurse or a builder of buildings that house us, creators don't always know that their work or passions are important when in the midst of making something.
But every artistic endeavour creates value for the artist as well as the people who participate in what was created. Nothing recent has shown us that more powerfully than during the pandemic. Book sales were up, novelists wrote their first stories, movie and streaming viewing exploded. People began to make things just to "survive." The fall back strategy to save our mental health and to connect with each other was to create and participate in art. If that doesn't remind us of why the arts matter, I don't know what does.
So Mila first found comfort in creating, and then she found herself, and finally she found a legacy, a ballet that bridged time and brought light and joy when the world was very dark.
A huge thank you to Kathleen Shoop for taking the time to chat with me today and for giving us such a fascinating insight into The Fern Flower. It’s been wonderful learning more about Mila’s world, the history and folklore woven throughout the novel, and the enduring importance of creativity during even the darkest moments in history. I hope you’ve enjoyed the interview as much as I have, and that Mila’s story inspires you to discover this compelling tale of resilience, friendship, hope, and the extraordinary power of art.
The Fern Flower
HERE
I do love your interviews, Mary Anne! Kathleen, did you come across anything in your research that you really wanted to include in the book, but just couldn’t find a way to fit into the story?
ReplyDeleteA magical fern flower, Russian ballet, revolution and a mysterious café full of artists… honestly, Kathleen, did you have to put ALL my reading weaknesses into one book? 😂 This sounds absolutely fascinating!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed this interview. Kathleen’s love for history and the stories behind her books really comes through, and I particularly liked hearing about what inspired her to write. It’s always nice getting a glimpse behind the book
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