Margery and Me by Maryka Biaggio

As someone who loves historical fiction but also craves strong, slightly rebellious female leads, Margery and Me completely drew me in. Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century spiritualism, this novel tells the story of Mina (later known as Margery), a woman determined to shape her own destiny in a world that keeps trying to define her. What makes it even more intriguing is that it’s based on a true story and is narrated by her dead brother, Walter. Yes, really. And somehow, it works beautifully.

Walter’s voice is easily one of my favorite parts of the book. He’s witty, protective, a little sarcastic, and surprisingly tender. Watching Mina’s/Margery’s life unfold through his ghostly perspective adds so much depth. It’s funny at times, heartbreaking at others, and always layered with this sense that he both understands her better than anyone and can’t quite control the chaos she’s walking into. That tension kept me hooked.

Mina herself is such a compelling character. She grows up under a harsh father, escapes into city life, endures a disappointing first marriage, and then reinvents herself. I loved how ambitious and self-aware she is. She’s not perfect—she’s impulsive, proud, and sometimes blind to red flags—but that made her feel real. Her second marriage to the charismatic Dr. Roy Crandon opens the door to high society, but also to new complications. The dynamic between Mina’s hunger for independence and the societal expectations placed on her felt especially powerful.

The spiritualism aspect was fascinating. Séances, table-rapping, public scrutiny, and the looming presence of skeptics, especially Harry Houdini, create this electric atmosphere. I didn’t know much about that era of American history before reading this, but the author makes it feel vivid and cinematic without overwhelming the reader with facts. It’s clear there’s a lot of research behind the scenes, but the storytelling never feels heavy.

One thing I really appreciated was how the novel explores grief, ambition, and identity. Mina’s connection to Walter, whether you read it as literal or symbolic, adds emotional weight. It’s not just about fame or deception; it’s about longing, family, and trying to be seen in a world that doubts women’s power.

I think this book would especially resonate with readers who enjoy historical fiction centered on complex women; fans of stories about unconventional heroines navigating rigid social structures. If you love novels that blend real historical figures with fictionalized emotional depth, or if you’re drawn to themes of female ambition and reinvention, this one’s for you. It would also appeal to readers who enjoy a touch of the supernatural without venturing fully into fantasy.

Margery and Me is smart, entertaining, and surprisingly moving. It made me think about how far women have come, and how much courage it once took just to claim a voice. I closed the book feeling both inspired and a little haunted, which feels exactly right for a story about spirits and the women bold enough to call them.