Rose is American (last name: Justice), a recent high school graduate who’s been flying since age 12, when she was taught by her father, owner of a flight school in central Pennsylvania.
Instead, the Rose of the title is 18, a civilian volunteer, ferrying a Royal Air Force plane from France to England when she is captured by the Nazis. She was also, by that point, just too old for this story.” “I needed a new character because I wanted to include poems and I couldn’t make be a poet,” Wein says. She tried writing a second novel with the same main character and. She was not yet finished writing it when she realized she was far from done with the subject matter. Many did not live to tell their own stories.Īnd then there’s Wein’s own Code Name Verity, a Printz Honor book and winner of the 2013 Edgar Award. Her fascination with women who were dropped behind enemy lines was stoked by The Women Who Lived for Danger, a collective biography about some of World War II’s female secret agents. She hit upon her main character Rose’s motivation for writing down everything she could remember about having been imprisoned after reading And I Am Afraid of My Dreams by Wanda Póltawska, a Polish survivor of the camps. Wein wanted to know more about Ravensbrück, the notorious women’s concentration camp, after reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. Too bad I can’t put the accident report into verse.To find the inspiration for Elizabeth Wein’s latest novel, Rose Under Fire (Hyperion, Sept.), one need look no further than the shelves of her bookcase. She’s right about nice paper, of course, and I have filled up a couple of those pretty cloth-bound diaries that lock but all I ever put in them are attempts at poetry. She had to write a big report herself last January and also be grilled in person by the Accident Committee. She says you need to bribe yourself because it’s always blah writing up accident reports. Maddie gave me this beautiful leather-bound notebook to draft it in she thinks it helps to have nice paper, and knew I wouldn’t buy any for myself, since, like everything else, it’s so scarce. I’ve never had to do a report like this, and I don’t really know where to begin. If she’d taken off first, we might both still be alive. We both had Tempests to deliver, and I’d flown one a couple of times before. I know it wasn’t my fault-I really do know that now. I’m supposed to be writing up an official report for the Tempest she flew into the ground, since she’s obviously not going to write it herself, and I saw it happen. I just got back from Celia Forester’s funeral.
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