That changed when I made a friend who lived in Selbu. I spent a lot of time there throughout my thirties, and even lived in the valley for a year, renting a house in the middle of a field, while honing my novel-writing skills. I didn’t write this novel while living there, but I got the idea while I sat in that house and watched the wind blow in the birches outside the windows.
I read everything I could about Belle and her murder farm, and quickly realized that I wanted more than headlines and facts; it wasn’t that interesting to me just how many bones they found at her farm. I wanted to try to understand who she was and why she did what she did, even if her reasons were twisted and obscure for those of us with somewhat healthy minds.
When I finally sat down to make sense of my notes, it wasn’t as easy as I had thought to get a clear picture of Belle. She was mercurial in every way. According to contemporary descriptions, she was difficult and amiable, outgoing and timid, overly religious and lewd. One person described her as talking a lot in a sugary voice; another said she muttered to herself. Some said she was stupid, others bright. Her sister said she loved children, while Jennie Olson’s suitor claimed that the girl was mistreated. Farmhand Peter Colson, who made a narrow escape, said that he loved her in spite of himself, suggesting a charismatic personality.
I found that the reports of Belle’s crimes were as varied as those of the woman herself. Some said she killed fourteen people, others forty. Belle’s possible escape has also been the theme of much debate. In 2008, Belle’s cemetery plot in Chicago was opened in an attempt to determine once and for all if Belle died in the fire. The female remains in the grave were tested, but the results were inconclusive. For years, it was almost perceived as a truth that Esther Carlson, an elderly Swedish woman on trial for murder in California in 1931, was in fact Belle Gunness. An amateur historian from Selbu was able to disprove that in 2014.
Belle Gunness remains mercurial.
This, then, is not a novel about the truth. It’s an attempt to understand how someone like Belle could have happened. While the bones of this novel are facts, I opted to keep my favorite rumors and lies, and made up some new ones as well.
The biggest lie in this novel is James Lee. I came across him in a Norwegian true crime book from the 1970s that wasn’t entirely accurate. Among the stories presented, I found this accomplice of Norwegian descent. I chose to keep him because there probably was an unknown male who presented himself as Belle’s brother and ushered men to the farm. Victim Henry Gurholdt is supposed to have come to Belle through him. I also wanted to give Belle a confidant, someone she could freely discuss her crimes with, and another killer seemed to fit the bill.
The next biggest lie is Nellie. Though Belle’s sister in Chicago did exist, she said she had lost touch with Belle shortly after Mads’s death. There is, for the record, nothing to suggest that Belle’s family knew anything about her criminal activities, and the Nellie of this novel is a fictional character with only superficial similarities to the real woman. I opted to use her in this way to add another, more empathetic voice to the story, and there was also an element of curiosity on my part: What is it like to love a serial killer? Not in a romantic way but as a sister, or a mother? When (if ever) does conscience override the instinct to protect?
Belle and Mads had foster children, but besides Jennie, it is unclear how many and for how long. They also had a son, Axel, born shortly after Myrtle, who only lived for a very short time. I also made other adjustments to Belle’s family for the sake of the narrative, and must also state for the record that there’s no proof that Belle was ever mistreated at home as a child. I opted to go that route after reading up on research that suggests that most sociopaths develop from a combination of nature and violent nurture.
After the fire, there were rumors about Belle and the mob. Allegedly, she disposed of bodies they delivered to the farm in crates. This is almost certainly not true, but it fit nicely with my narrative. Poor Edvard from Bergen (the one with the scissors) is entirely my own invention as well, and people familiar with the story will notice that I have taken some liberties with Belle’s last days in LaPorte, and completely ignored Maxon’s testimony. The men who visit Belle at the farm are a mixture of confirmed victims, suspected victims, and my own inventions, and Myrtle’s secret about the night Peter died was allegedly told to a friend at school and not to her aunt.
A questionable truth I embraced was the attack Belle suffered in Selbu and the subsequent murder of the perpetrator. Although the attack has never been proven, some people in Selbu still claim to know who he was. What seems to be more uncertain is if she truly killed him or if he died of natural causes.
It has often been assumed that Belle killed two of her children in Chicago, and later Peter Gunness’s younger child, but there is no proof of that. Child mortality was high at the time, and the children could just as easily have died of natural causes. There has also been speculation that Belle killed her children in La Porte before starting the fire, either as part of a murder-suicide or to cover her tracks as she fled. This seems very strange to me, as her one redeeming quality in life was a love of children, and there is nothing to indicate that the younger ones were ever mistreated at home.
As for Belle herself, my Belle is a tad more eloquent than the original, judging by her letters. There are also sides to an antisocial personality that don’t translate well on the page, and the real Belle may have had a little less compassion and depth than the Belle in this novel. The original would also have been more concerned with religious matters, even if only superficially.
Another thing about the original Belle is that as a mother, farmer, and housewife at the turn of the last century, she would have worked all the time. The perhaps most impressive thing about her endeavor is that she found time to execute it at all.
Acknowledgments
A novel doesn’t rise out of nowhere: it takes time, preparation, and countless revisions to get it just right. When it is based on real events, even more so, because life is a messy and complicated thing—and when the life in question is that of a notorious serial killer, the stakes are even higher. I owe thanks and gratitude to a lot of people, most of all to those who saw potential in the manuscript and helped me polish my words to a shine.
Brianne Johnson, my amazing agent, helped me take the story from a scraggly early draft to a solid piece of work. She has been this novel’s champion all the way, for which I am immensely grateful. I also owe thanks to everyone else at Writers House who have worked on this novel’s behalf.