A Journey While in Servitude - an Editorial Review of "Maren, the Fisherman's Daughter"

Book Blurb:

Herr Agner Estridsen is a prosperous wheat farmer whose good fortune is endowed from a lineage of kings and queens of Denmark. In a hamlet near the sea at a far distance from Herr Estridsen, the widow Hanna Iversen approaches a memorial for her son and husband who had died in a storm at sea. She speaks to the stately marker to feel close to them and feel their spirit. Loss of income has rendered the family destitute. Indenturing her daughters, Maren and Betina, to Herr Estridsen is the only hope for the family's survival.

While in servitude, the girls suffer the consequences of the choices made by the people who surround them in their everyday lives. Emil, Maren and Betina's brother, embodies responsibility. Sallie, their friend, mentorship; Clara, a steward, abandonment; Agner, the landlord, power; Randolf, the overseer, accountability; Tessa, the infant, dependence; Vike, the bully, contention; Kirk, the redeemed, education; Alia, snobbery; and Stone Face, a boulder on Agner's property, imagination. They all must contend with the paradoxes that define their fate and fortune. Emil loves the sea, and he hates the sea; Kirk loves Copenhagen, and he scorns Copenhagen. Sallie accepts the life forced upon her yet pines for the life she wishes for. Maren must conquer the anger she has for Vike to feel happy again, but a misunderstanding must be resolved. Betina's walking stick, which appears to have a snake wrapped around it, becomes symbolic of mortality's harsh journey.

Who would have guessed that Maren and Betina's shoes would cause such turmoil? Surprising friendships are made at the farm. Who might fall in love?

Book Buy Link: https://geni.us/qprCk

Editorial Review:

Title: Maren, The Fisherman’s Daughter

Author: Eve Gwartney

Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc. (2024)

ISBN: 9798891129139

Pages: 228

Rating: 4.5 Stars

“Maren, The Fisherman’s Daughter” by Eve Gwartney, a touching historical fiction romance that follows themes of loss, resilience, and the quiet endurance of sisterhood is the kind of novel that quietly seeps into your heart. Set against the rugged coastline and rural fields of 19^th-century Denmark, it explores how tragedy reshapes a family and how faith and love endure even in servitude. From the very first page, readers will be quickly drawn into a world both haunting and beautiful, where grief is met with grace, and where hope flickers even in the darkest corners.

The book opens with a sorrow that hangs like mist. Two young sisters, Maren and Betina, are forced into indentured servitude after the death of their father and brother. It’s a choice their mother makes out of desperation, and that alone says a lot about the world these girls live in. There’s a moment during their parting that stopped me in my tracks:

“If souls and hearts can blend as one, it was such a time as this. The beating of three hearts pounded fear and uncertainty within them. This was something no mother wanted. She could only hope that all would be well in the end… ‘I don’t want you to be cold and hungry. It’s why we must do this.’”

That line- ‘I don’t want you to be cold and hungry,’ felt like something a mother would say even as her heart was breaking into pieces. You can feel the weight of sacrifice in every syllable.

What follows is not a tale of adventure, but of endurance. The pacing is gentle, even slow in places, but I think that’s intentional. Gwartney seems to be saying: this is how life was- long days, aching feet, small kindnesses. She gives time to the quiet details, like how Maren hides her sore heels behind a stone named “Stone Face” or how Betina longs for softness in a world that has none.

There’s a scene you won’t stop thinking about, where Maren is working in the wind, tossing wheat in a woven basket and something about her movement makes her almost radiant.

“She twirled, and she twirled, throwing her arm upward with every turn. She swayed her body downward and laid the basket on the ground, picked up another basket, and kept dancing. She had the sun’s, the wind’s, and Vike’s full attention… She was winnowing wheat in the wind, and she danced as she winnowed.”

It’s not just pretty prose that shines here, rather, the scene feels symbolic about Maren turning labor into beauty, as if her spirit refused to be crushed. And the way Vike watches her in a quiet but unsure manner, there’s something tender and deeply human about it.

Character-wise, Maren is the kind of protagonist I find myself rooting for without even realizing it. She’s not flashy or loud, but strong in the way real people are strong. She admirably shows up, cares for her sister and endeavors to do what needs to be done no matter what obstacles she encounters. Betina is smaller, softer, and still very much a child but her bond with her sister is the book’s anchor. One of the most tender moments comes when Betina expresses her grief, and Maren comforts her:

“But other children get what they want. Most children get to play with toys, and they hug their mor and far before they go to sleep.”

“I know, Betina,” Maren says, “but the same children might not get other things they want. We have a family that loves us. Some children don’t have one… When you cry, I’ll wipe away your tears.”

“If you decide to not be brave, Maren,” Betina says softly, “I’ll wipe away your tears and help you to not cry so much.”

That exchange cracked something open in me. It’s so raw and so real and made me forget they’re just girls as I beheld the world forcing them to be much more. The prose is gentle, lyrical, almost like an old lullaby. Gwartney doesn’t waste words and doesn’t overly explain. Even the world building is subtle- you pick up on the customs, the climate, the unspoken social rules through texture and rhythm, not exposition.

“Maren, The Fisherman’s Daughter” isn’t loud or twisty or full of cliffhangers, rather it is the kind of story that quietly lingers, the way salt stays on your skin after a swim. Author Eve Gwartney writes with such restraint, and somehow that makes the pain more Intimate and the hope more fragile.

If you’re looking for a fast-paced escape, this might not be your book but if you want something that feels like a memory, soft-edged, quietly powerful, deeply rooted in feeling you will find “Maren, The Fisherman’s Daughter” worth every page. It will undoubtedly find its place in the hearts of readers who appreciate stories that don’t shout but hum.

---

To have your historical novel editorially reviewed and/or enter the HFC Book of the Year contest, please visit www.thehistoricalfictioncompany.com/book-awards/award-submission