100 Books Like The Real Valkyrie

In many ways, Antonia Fraser's Warrior Queens spurred my long-term interest in women warriors. Fraser not only introduced me to historical women I had never heard of, but to the idea that women had fought as a normal part of the army in far more epochs and far more civilizations than is normally appreciated. Fraser looks at her warring queens as a group as well as individually, trying to understand the tropes that (mostly male) historians have used both to make them bigger than life and to demean them as women. A fascinating read that has held up well over time.

Until reading this book (and Stone above), I had accepted that the historical version of womanhood we are given was accurate. While I had been a girl who liked to be active, ride horses, and involve myself in big questions, I believed I was a bizarre example of emerging feminism, not the inheritor of a powerful legacy.

Mayor’s book showed me that there have been women for thousands of years who owned and managed themselves. There was a historical example for me to point towards. The Amazons were real women who lived in communities that were uniquely sovereign. It made my being quake in the profundity of what it meant for a woman today to point to a woman 2000 years ago and say, “Me too” in a whole new way.

In 2012, former Air National Guard pilot and Purple Heart recipient Mary Jennings Hegar joined forces with the ACLU to challenge the ban that kept American women out of ground combat units. In Shoot Like A Girl, Hegar tells the story of the career that led her to that point.

Hegar’s love for flying, her commitment to her job, and her bonds with teammates are vividly portrayed. The incident for which she received the Purple Heart–her helicopter shot down in Afghanistan with wounded men aboard—is gripping. But the heart of the book is the systemic sexism Hegar faced throughout her career. This is a powerful account of one woman's determination to serve in the face of acts of casual prejudice, active hazing, sexual assault—and institutional cover-ups.

Lynn was one of my graduate advisors decades ago, but he wrote this long after I finished.

A highly respected military historian, Lynn did a remarkably sympathetic and nuanced job of explaining the vital role women played in early modern warfare. No, he doesn’t concentrate on the few who took on male garb and actually fought, but rather the tens of thousands of mostly nameless “camp followers” who provided essential services: food and fodder, as sutlers, and yes, as prostitutes. Quite simply, an early modern army couldn’t function without its extensive “tail.” 

One of the salient characteristics separating premodern and modern armies is how governments eventually, over a long period of time, froze out women from participating in any aspects of warfare by bringing under their aegis all the services (save prostitution) that women had heretofore provided.

Having made my creative name as project designer responsible for the original Jorvik Viking Centre in York, UK, this book uses words and historical illustrations to do what we attempted to do. It was to place the observer into an experience from the past, which would be in such detail and authenticity that it’s as close, I believe, to time travel as our generation will achieve. Truth, fascination, and amazement. Why I like this book is it achieved what archaeologists, scientists, and interpretive designers strove to achieve. 

In this genre-bending novel the author weaves Norse myth with a tale set in the very real world of early medieval Iceland. Her descriptions of the landscape are wondrous, and her portrayal of the lives and culture of the early settlers of Iceland ring true. I loved how she quite successfully brought the Norse gods and one particular goddess down to earth. I am not as knowledgeable about the Nordic gods and their stories as I would like to be. This novel was a terrific way to begin a journey of discovery taking me in that direction.

I devoured this book in a weekend.

Hild plunged me into the rough and tumble world of seventh-century Anglo-Saxon England through the eyes of its title character, a young woman with unusual abilities who is dangerously close to the crown of one of its kings and who protects herself by becoming his seer.

I appreciated how Griffith evoked the texture of life in this period, its beauty and its roughness, bringing me into its mead halls and forests and onto its sea cliffs. She also draws out the cultural and linguistic diversity of the Anglo-Saxon world and the conflicts this created between Celts and Saxons, mixed with pressure from Franks across the Channel and the Latin Church in Rome.

This book stayed with me long after I finished it.

What gripped me most was the way Signe Pike gave Languoreth fierce humanity, a woman, well, a girl, who was given to royal marriage, had a good husband, yet, for all her childish love affair, still took on a lover. This story pitted family against family, friend against friend, in the political upheaval of Christianity against paganism.

I felt Pike captured Languoreth's torn heart beautifully, with every unfairness to every heart entwined in her decisions. I also appreciated the deep dive into the Arthurian historicity of the story in the author's note at the end.

Note: The story does end on a cliffhanger.

Myths about viking women abound, but Judith Jesch’s book is grounded in what we can know from the archeological, historical, and literary record. That still paints a vivid picture of the Viking women who remained in the traditional feminine sphere, and those who ventured into men’s. As Women in the Viking Age reveals, Viking women were farmers, housewives, managers of hundreds of servants, explorers, priestesses, rich benefactors, and war-leaders. In many ways, their lives were more varied than men’s.

In the “traders vs. raiders” approach to Viking history, women stay home and look after the farm while the men go off on adventures. Three books published in the 1990s by Judith Jesch and Jenny Jochens brought the lives of these women out of the shadows, showing how vital their role was.

In Valkyrie: The Women of the Viking World, Jóhanna Kristín Friðriksdóttir brings these early studies up to date. With her mastery of detail from the Icelandic sagas, Friðriksdóttir follows an ordinary Viking woman from birth to death. She tells stories of women who are bold and successful, others who are battered and victimized.

She hopes to introduce us, she says, “to the diverse and fascinating texts recorded in medieval Iceland, a culture able to imagine women in all kinds of roles carrying power.” Like the mythical valkyries of her title, these are “women who decided.” To learn… show more.