(Photo by Melissa Madison Fuller)
Blending gothic tension with sharp cultural insight, Leslie Baird’s debut novel, Salomé, reimagines one of history’s most infamous stories through a distinctly modern lens. Set against the lush backdrop of France’s Loire Valley, the novel follows Courtney, an adrift American journalist whose chance encounter with a magnetic stranger derails her carefully planned trip and pulls her into a world that feels as intoxicating as it is off-kilter. What begins as an alluring escape quickly turns unsettling, as cameras lurk in quiet corners, unsettling dreams take hold, and a charismatic, deeply suspicious inner circle begins to reveal itself, raising questions of power, loyalty, and a dangerous fixation on immortality.
Perfect for readers of Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Zakiya Dalila Harris, Salomé situates itself within a flourishing genre of contemporary literary retellings while pushing boldly against the narratives that have long defined its titular figure. Historically cast as a seductive, destructive force shaped largely by male authors — from biblical lore to Oscar Wilde’s play — Baird’s version reframes the story with agency, complexity, and modern urgency. The result is a provocative, genre-bending novel that weaves together themes of wealth inequality, the longevity industry, the patriarchal bargain, and the enduring allure of French culture, all within a suspenseful, feminist framework.
Releasing May 19, the book will be celebrated locally with a special launch event hosted by The Bookshop on May 26 at The Lipstick Lounge.
We caught up with Baird to discuss the inspirations behind Salomé, the novel’s layered cultural commentary, and what it means to reimagine a story that has captivated audiences for centuries.
Nashville Lifestyles: Were there any media — film, TV, books, music — you turned to for inspiration while writing Salomé?
Leslie Baird: Everything I’ve ever consumed, everything that has ever been made that I hadn’t consumed yet. Everything reminds me of this book. Sometimes in a way that makes it feel derivative. I just watched Practical Magic for the first time and saw major overlaps in Salomé. At first, I balked at these realizations, but now I just hope to be in good company. Even when you try not to tell a Hero’s Journey story beat-for-beat, it still comes out that way somehow. The formula works for a reason.
I used Oscar Wilde’s play a fair amount. I listened to Debussy playlists while writing some of the earlier chapters to set the mood. Over the past few years, there has been an uptick in reporting on technocrats seeking immortality, so I read everything I found on that. I read The Immortalists: Charles Lindbergh, Dr. Alexis Carrel, and Their Daring Quest to Live Forever by David M. Friedman, which informed a lot of the backstory. But as far as inspiration goes, there wasn’t a single piece of media that stood out more than others. I was inspired by Instagram influencers as much as any work of art.
NL: You’ve described Courtney’s Francophilia as her “fatal flaw.” As an expat yourself, what do you make of our collective fascination of life abroad? How does this play into the novel’s commentary on the destructive nature of unbridled desire?
LB: Courtney’s Francophilia as her “fatal flaw” is what made writing this novel fun for me. I’m an unabashed Francophile, and whenever I tell French people how much I love France, they always explain to me why I should not. This was an opportunity for me to make fun of myself, and to write what I know: an American freelancer who is worn down by the system and thinks the grass is definitely, unequivocally greener elsewhere. Courtney certainly has deeper flaws, but I did not want to make these flaws actually fatal. Her Francophilia is maybe just cringey.
In my own life, I’m constantly in awe of how much depth, understanding, and acceptance exists in my relationships with other women, and I wanted to bring that into my storytelling, even when the traditional story beat would call for conflict between them. I asked myself: what if Courtney’s Francophilia put her into a compromising situation, but instead of being “fatal,” it served to show her the best of another person, and the best of herself?
The original story of Salomé is a cautionary tale of how unbridled female desire leads to destruction. In playing around with this theme, I didn’t want female desire to be dangerous in my story. However, the unbridled desire for immortality and riches can lead to the downfall of powerful men.
NL: This novel explores themes of the American identity, as well as how the nation is perceived on a global scale. Over the course of writing Salomé from Courtney’s point of view, how did your perception of that identity change?
LB: Americans have many stereotypes when abroad––some good and some bad. Courtney is a fairly savvy traveler, in France at least. She won’t make an egregious faux pas, but she smiles too much. She’s a little too friendly, a bit too open, which are some of our more benign tendencies. Over the course of the novel, Courtney goes from seeing herself as “devastatingly American” to making some peace with her current situation. Perhaps it’s through confronting some French people whose lives are not straight out of Amélie, or perhaps it’s feeling grossed out by the lengths that some people will go to in the name of not having to confront their own mortality, but Courtney emerges at the end of the book with a new appreciation for her own life, American as it is. She has found a sense of purpose that negates that nagging feeling that she doesn’t belong where she was born. She even learns that there are things she likes about being American and is able to romanticize her own little life as much as she once romanticized Paris.
NL: Courtney is fascinated with etymology and spells words to herself to settle her nerves. Where did you come up with those traits? How does this speak to the novel’s overall fixation on language?
LB: I’m a speller! Not in the same way as Courtney, but that’s where the idea came from. I have trouble watching TV or movies without subtitles, because the urge to see the written word is so strong that I spell them on my fingers and get lost, and have to pause and rewind to see what is being said. It’s terrible! I don’t even like to go to the movie theater because there are no subtitles.
Etymology is history built into a word and sometimes offers hints about the lives of ancient people. In a French class, I did an etymology project on the word cuillère (spoon). It comes from the Latin word cochlea that means “snail” because special utensils were created to eat snails. That’s also where the word “cochlea” for part of the inner ear comes from, because of its spiral shape.
“The Milky Way” isn’t standalone in its dairy-celestial reference. The word “galaxy” shares the same Proto-Indo-European root as “lactose,” for the same reason––the night sky looks like a swirl of cream. I literally don’t understand why everyone isn’t obsessed with this stuff.
NL: Without giving too much away, your novel deals with the quest for immortal life, a once-fringe pursuit that has spawned a longevity industry and taken root in a particular subset of tech culture. Why were you interested in exploring this trend through the lens of a feminist, gothic thriller?
LB: The idea really came from Carrel and Lindbergh, "The Immortalists." But as soon as you scratch the surface of immortality, you find centuries of mythology, medical experimentations gone horribly wrong, and a steady stream of articles about (mostly) men who are freezing their heads or trying to upload their consciousnesses. While I was reading these articles back in 2017-2020 (when the first and second drafts were underway), my Instagram feed was being inundated with plastic surgery and esthetician accounts because I was in my early thirties. The juxtaposition of men trying to live forever and women trying to look young for a few more years was fascinating, and I wanted to build something around that.
Writing a gothic novel was not my intention! I was surprised when the word showed up in some early marketing materials, but it is apt. I also never tried to write a feminist book, though at its core, it’s a story about women who connect deeply over their hopes and dreams that do not revolve around men. Both Salomé and Courtney have a lot more going on than scrambling after eternal youth.
NL: What’s next for you?
LB: I’ve been a very busy ghostwriter for the past five years. Now I’m shifting more into editing and book coaching so I can spend more of my creative energy writing my next novels. Yes, plural! I have two in the works.