Fiona Davis’s journey to becoming a celebrated author is as compelling as the stories she tells—stories rooted in historic buildings and the resilience of women who inhabit them. She didn’t grow up dreaming of writing novels. As a child eager to escape into a literary world, her only wish was to be a character in the Little House on the Prairie series. “I just wanted to be part of that world,” she says, sounding wistful. But writing, she discovered, wasn’t something she’d pursue until much later in life.
After college, Davis made her way to New York City. She chased the theatrical dream, spending about ten years as an actress. The job was exhilarating at first—auditioning, rehearsing, stepping into roles that allowed her to slip into other lives. “It was good fun—until it wasn’t,” she admits. By the time she decided to step away from acting, she was ready to reinvent herself—but uncertain of the path forward.
That pivot led to Columbia Journalism School. “Getting in to Columbia changed everything. That’s where I learned how to research, write, and edit. It was an incredible education and gave me the tools I needed to become a storyteller.” The pragmatic, deadline-driven rigors of journalism suited her disciplined work ethic—and more importantly, taught her that writing is not a passive gift, but a craft refined through persistence.
Today, Davis is best known for her historical novels set within iconic New York City architecture: The Dollhouse, The Lions of Fifth Avenue, The Address, The Chelsea Girls, The Magnolia Palace, and The Lions of Fifth Avenue. What makes her novels unique, beyond their meticulous historical detail, is her method—she begins with a building. Her inspiration can be found in structures as varied as the Barbizon Hotel, Grand Central Terminal, the New York Public Library, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. These are buildings with histories that echo grand aspirations, hard times, and reclamation by new generations.
The moment she first discovered Grand Central Terminal’s 1920s art school, tucked away in the eastern wing, operating within one of the grandest stations on earth—that was the spark for The Masterpiece. “I look for a building that’s been through something, that’s evolved over time,” she explains. Grand Central opened in 1913 to opulent fanfare, drifted into decay by the 1970s, then emerged reborn in the 1980s renovation. “I’m fascinated by that arc—its rise, fall, and rebirth.” The building becomes her character, carrying secrets she unearths through archival research and interviews.
The thread of rediscovery runs through her books—not only what her women characters uncover within walls, but what she uncovers in herself through her work. Her novel The Dollhouse, published just before she turned fifty, is a quiet testament to that development. In early interviews she emphasized how fortunate she felt to debut later: “I’m glad I waited. In my twenties, I didn’t have much to say. I hadn’t been kicked around by life yet. Now, I feel like I have opinions, depth, perspective. And I get to explore all of that through my books.” The novel was, she says, a culmination of lived experience, journalistic rigor, and creative courage.
It wasn’t just the story that changed—it was her voice. She learned that to tell a compelling tale, she didn’t need smoky salons or tortured characters; she needed truth, structure, and authenticity. From journalism, she inherited a writer’s creed: you show up, write something, even if it sucks, then you revise. “If you don’t write, you don’t get paid. That’s a great motivator,” she jokes, though the sentiment remains serious. “On bad writing days—and there are many—I tell myself that I’ll hit the word count, and then revise later. The trick is to sit in the discomfort, to keep going.”
Davis’s writing also reflects her personal narrative: born in Canada to English parents, who moved frequently—New Jersey, Utah, Texas—before settling in New York. “There’s just something about New York,” she says. “Even as a kid, I knew I wanted to live here.” That nomadic childhood taught her to find permanence in the impermanent: to consider the places you live as characters themselves—places that shape and are shaped by the people within them. It’s why she gravitates to the city’s layered history, finding narrative in the creases of marble, the angles of stairwells, the quiet geography of second floors and forgotten corners.
As a girl, she was taught strength by her mother—a second-degree black belt in taekwondo who competed in tournaments but also embodied gentleness and courtesy with her soft English accent. “That blend of fierce and sweet stuck with me,” Davis says. It’s the kind of duality that appears in her protagonists: women with admirable toughness and unexpected compassion, navigating worlds where each is necessary.
Another key influence was an eighth-grade teacher, Mrs. Gaul, who coaxed out leadership in a painfully shy adolescent. “Mrs. Gaul saw something in me I didn’t yet see in myself,” Davis remembers. That encouragement became a touchstone: compassion, recognition, empowerment. It’s nearly impossible to overlook how that combination resonates through Davis’s heroines: leaning into discomfort, discovering their own voices in places that once seemed forbidding.
Her list of favorite writers reflects her sensibilities. She devours Agatha Christie for her page-turning plotting; Geraldine Brooks, author of People of the Book, offers sweeping historical storytelling; Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith shows narrative levers pulled with precision; Kate Quinn’s The Rose Code demonstrates research ambition; Edith Wharton and Shakespeare bring layered, introspective writing. “There’s something about historical depth and rich narrative that I love,” she says.
To new writers, her advice is practical and no-nonsense: read in your genre, and finish your draft. “Finish it, even if it’s terrible. You can’t shape it until you’ve got the whole thing down. And watch out for shiny new ideas—you’ll bounce around and never finish. Complete the draft, then fix it. That’s how you learn what works.”
What would be the title of her biography? Davis imagines it would be called The Building Whisperer. She’d want historian Lynne Olson to write it—a biographer whose books about women’s lives have inspired Davis—and in the film version, Emily Blunt would play the part. It’s an image of elegance, intelligence, and subtle strength—fitting for a novelist whose stories are quietly powerful.
Today, Davis continues her work, seeking out the mystery in well-known buildings, uncovering the forgotten inhabitants within their walls, and weaving their lives into fiction. She peels back layers of paint, generations of occupants, decades of history—finding resonances in every creak of a floorboard, the echo of footsteps in an old hallway. In giving voice to these silent legacies, Davis has become, herself, a kind of whisperer—turning stone and steel into narrative, imagination into history, and buildings into canvases for stories that speak across time. In the process, she invites readers to walk through their own cities with newfound wonder, curiosity, and appreciation for all the secrets hidden just beyond their sight.
"Columbia changed everything. That’s where I learned how to research, write, and edit. It was an incredible education and gave me the tools I needed to become a storyteller.”
One of the most resonant pieces of life advice Davis has received is rooted in mindfulness. "Everything changes, so don't cling too tightly to anything - or anyone. It's ok to sit in discomfort." That Buddhist sensibility shows up in her writing practice, especially when words don't flow.
UPCOMING: National Book Festival, Washington DC 9/6; Fight Back Gala, Boston, MA 9/19; Greenwich LOOK Literary Day, 9/25.
Stay connected to Fiona Davis for the latest updates on releases, appearances and more. Follow @fionadavisauthor or visit her website: fionadavisbooks.com