Another favorite of mine, and a story that reminds me a bit of The Hermit of Eyton Forest in its overall development.. As the series proceeded, Peters began to develop the stories a bit differently, focusing on plot that takes Brother Cadfael rather far afield of Shrewsbury and in which he doesn't solve a mystery so much as piece together that story that appears before him in bits and pieces. And I like this. It makes for a somewhat more complex story line and one that doesn't work well for setting down. In fact, I read The Confession of Brother Haluin in a matter of a few hours, unable to tear myself away from what I already knew to be coming (since I've read it before), because the story drives the reader forward in such a compelling way.
The Confession of Brother Haluin is (as the image indicates) the fifteenth story in the series and begins in late 1142, when heavy snowfalls create roofing issues for the brothers of the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. To avoid having the roof collapse and leak further, the brothers take on the challenge of repairing the slates in deep winter, and one of those who volunteers is a brother that is typically in the scriptorium, Brother Haluin. He is a quiet and hard-working man who has done more than his share of working hard during his fifteen or so years in the abbey. As he works on the roof, he presses himself a bit too hard once again, reaching out beyond safety in order to make a repair. In doing so, he creates more harm than he could have intended: Brother Haluin and the loose slates slide off the roof and land in the snow many feet below, shattering both the slates and the poor brother's bones.
Brother Haluin is not expected to survive, and when he regains a bit of consciousness he requests confession. Abbot Radulfus comes immediately, and the ailing brother asks for Cadfael to stay as well. And the confession he gives is hardly what they expected of such a gentle and diligent monk. Many years before, before he joined the abbey, Haluin had been a young man of eighteen, the heir of a manor, and a clerk (learning letters and numbers) in the household of Bertrand de Clary at Hales, a powerful landowner with property in both Shropshire and Staffordshire. While there, Haluin had fallen in love the de Clary's daughter Bertrade, but his suit was rejected by her mother Adelais, the Lord de Clary being away in the Crusades. Haluin and Bertrade loved each other deeply, however, and they chose to push their relationship beyond what was wise. Adelais found out and sent Haluin away, and he chose the cloister to hide from the pain of the world. Several months after his arrival, Haluin received a letter from Adelais in which she claimed that Bertrade was pregnant and that the girl needed an abortive remedy. As Haluin was working with Cadfael at the time, he had learned about the dangers that herbs can create, however forbidden those dangers might be, and he sent the herbs to his beloved. Shortly thereafter, Adelais sent word that Bertrade and her child had both died from the remedy, although she claimed publicly that her daughter (whose pregnancy was obviously not announced) had died of a fever.
Haluin was both horrified and mortified. He had, as he believed, killed his love and their child. He spent the years that followed in pressing himself through work and penance, although he never confessed this particular sin until his devastating accident. Haluin claims that if he recovers from his ailment, he will take himself on a pilgrimage to Bertrade's grave to pray and to beg his forgiveness of her mother. And much to everyone's surprise, Haluin does recover, although he will never regain the full use of his feet. He insists on the pilgrimage to which he has committed himself, and once March arrives and he is well on the mend, he requests leave to go. Abbot Radulfus asks Cadfael, who is the only other who knows of Haluin's confession, to accompany the man on his way, and Cadfael agrees (believing that his journey will be but a walk to a tomb, a night of prayer, and a return).
As tends to happens in stories that involve Brother Cadfael, things get a bit complicated. For one, Bertrade's tomb is not at Hales, where Haluin expected it to be. Haluin and Cadfael arrive, and a shocked Adelais greets them coldly, offering little more than basic comfort during their stay. Once Haluin realizes that Bertrade's resting place must be at the family's main estate of Elford, he insists on pushing on (despite Cadfael's concerns about his health and the weather). They make it to the main estate, say their prayers at the family tomb, and then depart. Surprisingly, Adelais has turned up here as well, but the brothers think little of it and head back to Shrewsbury once their vigil is complete.
On the way back, however, they run into a sever snowfall that delays them and sends them into shelter at the Vivers manor, where they are welcomed freely. While there, they also receive an odd request: the lord Cenred asks if either of them is a priest and requests that he (who turns out to be Brother Haluin) marry his sister Helisende to her bridegroom who is soon to arrive. The request is particularly strange due to Cenred's haste, but it turns out that he has good reason. Helisende is only his half-sister and the product of his father's second marriage very late in life. The young girl is only seventeen or eighteen, and she and Cenred's son Roscelin (who is technically Helisende's nephew) have developed an unfortunate romantic love for one another. The relationship is forbidden under the Church law, and Helisende has agreed to marry a distant lord Jean de Perronet to remove herself from the situation. Roscelin (who is working under the current lord Audemar de Clary at Elford) knows nothing, and Cenred hopes to complete the marriage as soon as possible.
Under the circumstances, and because the young lady agrees to the marriage, Brother Haluin agrees to officiate. Before the ceremony can occur, however, a murder occurs. (This is a Brother Cadfael mystery, after all.) Helisende's long-time nurse (who was also nurse to her mother) has run to Elford, purportedly to tell Roscelin about what is going on. She never returns to Vivers, and her stabbed body is discovered in the snow. This delays things and sends everyone into an uproar, and just as Cenred decides that the marriage between Helisende and Lord de Perronet should, in fact, continue Helisende disappears.
And this is where Cadfael begins to piece things together. As mentioned above, this isn't so much a mystery that he solves as a story from the past that he reassembles. I suppose it's also not a terribly complex one, but it's quite wonderful to see it pieced back together. The one problem with this story might be that the murder itself gets brushed under the rug a bit: the poor old nurse is indeed murdered, and Cadfael has a good idea of who is responsible, but there is no sense that the perpetrator will be brought to justice. That really isn't the purpose of this story, but it's sad all the same. Apart from that, though, this is a lovely story of how the past can come back to haunt those in the present and that no amount of manipulation and concealment can be kept hidden forever.
Year of publication: 1988
Number of pages: 205 pages
26 August 2010
Meme of Reading Questions
I saw this at Carrie's blog Reading to Know, and she in turn got it from Stray Thoughts. (This is apparently from last week's Booking Through Thursday post, so I'll take the ones I like. Originally, 55 questions. Can't answer that many. Who wants to scroll through that anyway?) Since it was one of the few memes I felt capable of responding to, I snatched it up.
Favorite childhood book?
Well, this is kind of embarrassing. It was Kings & Queens of England and Scotland, by Plantagenet Somerset Fry. I read it closely and learned the list of monarchs, along with their spouses and children. (For what it's worth, I wasn't exactly the life of the party. When I was invited to a party.)
What are you reading right now?
The Devil's Novice, by Ellis Peters.
Bad book habit?
Skimming when I get a little bored by description.
Do you have an e-reader?
No way. I have the free Kindle program on my computer, and I've downloaded a couple of books -- but I don't see the need for an e-reader. I'm home a good portion of the time, and my limited experience with e-books doesn't motivate me to carry an e-reader around.
Do you prefer to read one book at a time, or several at once?
Depends on what I'm reading. With a long book that represents more of a project, I might pick up other books at the same time. With a shorter book, I'll stick to one at a time.
Have your reading habits changed since starting a blog?
They did. And then I adjusted my blog to accommodate my reading habits.
What is your reading comfort zone?
Not sure I have one. But then again, I suppose anyone sticks to certain types of books. No point in reading crap I'm not interested in.
Can you read on the bus?
I don't remember the last time I was on a bus.
Favorite place to read?
Lying on my stomach on my bedroom floor, in the evening.
What is your policy on book lending?
I haven't had the best experiences. (The last book I lent out never made it back to me.) I prefer to leave lending to the library.
Do you ever dog-ear books?
Only cheap ones.
Do you ever write in the margins of your books?
All the time. That's why I prefer cheap books.
What makes you love a book?
Beautiful writing.
Favorite genre?
Mysteries. (Although I'm only now admitting it. Cue horrified English professors everywhere.)
Genre you rarely read (but wish you did)?
What kind of a question is this (the second part)? If I wanted to read a specific genre, I would. A genre I rarely read but have no qualms about avoiding? Science fiction.
Have you ever read a self-help book?
Does the Bible count?
Favorite cookbook?
Now, here's a question I like. I just bought it recently after checking it out repeatedly from the library -- 1000 Indian Recipes, by Neelam Batra.
Favorite reading snack?
Wine.
How do you feel about giving a bad/negative review?
I thoroughly enjoy it.
If you could read in a foreign language, which language would you choose?
Russian.
Most intimidating book you've ever read?
The Finnish poem The Kalevala.
Favorite poet?
T.S. Eliot. Gordon, Lord Byron.
Favorite fictional character?
Bertie Wooster.
Favorite fictional villain?
Mrs Danvers.
What distracts you easily when you're reading?
My husband. He takes great delight in it.
What would cause you to stop reading a book halfway through?
Bad writing. I have a very limited threshold for bad writing.
Do you like to keep your books organized?
Naturally.
Name a book that made you angry?
You mean, like wanting to hurl it against a wall and breath epithets upon it? Parts of The Faerie Queene did, but seldom have I hated an entire book that much. Hang on, I hated The Secret Life of Bees, as I've mentioned before.
Favorite guilt-free pleasure reading?
British murder mysteries. It's a broad category, but I'm not picky. If it's pretty well written and includes a decent mystery, I'll lap it up.
Favorite childhood book?
Well, this is kind of embarrassing. It was Kings & Queens of England and Scotland, by Plantagenet Somerset Fry. I read it closely and learned the list of monarchs, along with their spouses and children. (For what it's worth, I wasn't exactly the life of the party. When I was invited to a party.)
What are you reading right now?
The Devil's Novice, by Ellis Peters.
Bad book habit?
Skimming when I get a little bored by description.
Do you have an e-reader?
No way. I have the free Kindle program on my computer, and I've downloaded a couple of books -- but I don't see the need for an e-reader. I'm home a good portion of the time, and my limited experience with e-books doesn't motivate me to carry an e-reader around.
Do you prefer to read one book at a time, or several at once?
Depends on what I'm reading. With a long book that represents more of a project, I might pick up other books at the same time. With a shorter book, I'll stick to one at a time.
Have your reading habits changed since starting a blog?
They did. And then I adjusted my blog to accommodate my reading habits.
What is your reading comfort zone?
Not sure I have one. But then again, I suppose anyone sticks to certain types of books. No point in reading crap I'm not interested in.
Can you read on the bus?
I don't remember the last time I was on a bus.
Favorite place to read?
Lying on my stomach on my bedroom floor, in the evening.
What is your policy on book lending?
I haven't had the best experiences. (The last book I lent out never made it back to me.) I prefer to leave lending to the library.
Do you ever dog-ear books?
Only cheap ones.
Do you ever write in the margins of your books?
All the time. That's why I prefer cheap books.
What makes you love a book?
Beautiful writing.
Favorite genre?
Mysteries. (Although I'm only now admitting it. Cue horrified English professors everywhere.)
Genre you rarely read (but wish you did)?
What kind of a question is this (the second part)? If I wanted to read a specific genre, I would. A genre I rarely read but have no qualms about avoiding? Science fiction.
Have you ever read a self-help book?
Does the Bible count?
Favorite cookbook?
Now, here's a question I like. I just bought it recently after checking it out repeatedly from the library -- 1000 Indian Recipes, by Neelam Batra.
Favorite reading snack?
Wine.
How do you feel about giving a bad/negative review?
I thoroughly enjoy it.
If you could read in a foreign language, which language would you choose?
Russian.
Most intimidating book you've ever read?
The Finnish poem The Kalevala.
Favorite poet?
T.S. Eliot. Gordon, Lord Byron.
Favorite fictional character?
Bertie Wooster.
Favorite fictional villain?
Mrs Danvers.
What distracts you easily when you're reading?
My husband. He takes great delight in it.
What would cause you to stop reading a book halfway through?
Bad writing. I have a very limited threshold for bad writing.
Do you like to keep your books organized?
Naturally.
Name a book that made you angry?
You mean, like wanting to hurl it against a wall and breath epithets upon it? Parts of The Faerie Queene did, but seldom have I hated an entire book that much. Hang on, I hated The Secret Life of Bees, as I've mentioned before.
Favorite guilt-free pleasure reading?
British murder mysteries. It's a broad category, but I'm not picky. If it's pretty well written and includes a decent mystery, I'll lap it up.
23 August 2010
Book Review: The Virgin in the Ice, by Ellis Peters
This is my absolute favorite of the Cadfael books, and the slightly odd title notwithstanding I'm convinced it's one of the better stories that Peters wrote, not so much because the mystery is all that, well, mystifying, but because this book has beautiful descriptions and serious soul.
The Virgin in the Ice begins in November of 1139, with Shropshire struggling against not only the evils of civil war but also of the approach of a terrible winter. In the former case, the empress's supporters have overrun the city of Worcester, leaving its inhabitants to flee all directions and a few of them to land in Shrewsbury. Among those not fleeing but still looking for rest as the under-sheriff Hugh Beringar and his lovely wife Aline who is expecting their first child. As one of Hugh's closest friends, Cadfael is just as delighted for the upcoming birth.
As a severe winter gradually approaches, the abbey receives an unexpected request. The sub-prior from the abbey in Worcester brings word that the raid on that city sent some significant refugees running for safety. Young Ermina Hugonin and her brother Yves fled from the city, accompanied by Ermina's tutor Sister Hilaria. They were headed in the direction of Shrewsbury, but they never arrived, and now the children's uncle Laurence d'Angers is attempting to find them. Unfortunately, he has returned from the Crusades to side with the empress, and no empress's man is to be allowed in Shropshire, which is firmly in the king's power now. So, the sheriff promises assistance in locating the children and delivering them safely to their uncle, and Cadfael is certainly going to keep an eye out himself. Perhaps more to the point, Ermina has been described as "very beautiful," creating further dangers for her in this lawless land.
As all of this occurs, the abbey receives a request from the priory of Bromfield: a monk who was recently a visitor of Bromfield was attacked on his way home and left for dead; nearby farmers found him just in time and returned to the priory. Prior Leonard requests Cadfael's assistance in helping this unfortunate man recover. from his wounds. So, as the snow begins to fall and the wind begins to blow Cadfael rides to Bromfield to help the unfortunate Brother Elyas.
Prior Leonard was hardly mistaken. Brother Elyas was apparently attacked by a band of vagabonds and left to die in the snow, and his mind has been terribly damaged by what has occurred. Cadfael begins looking around to find has perpetrated this evil against a monk, and in the process he stumbles across young Yves. But his sister and her tutor are not with him, and Yves doesn't know where they are. But he does fill out some of the story to help Cadfael. The lady Ermina is quite headstrong and planned to travel to the manor of her intended (or the man she has chosen as her intended), but she rode off to him in the night and left the others to fend for themselves. Yves saw her go and went after her but got lost in the snow. As Cadfael takes Yves back to Bromfield, he sees something that frightens him greatly trapped in the newly frozen ice: the body of a young woman whom he believes to be the still-missing Ermina.
The next day, Cadfael and others go back to the ice to retrieve the young woman's body. As the ice melts from around her back at Bromfield, Cadfael asks Yves to identify her, and Yves recognizes her not as his sister but rather as the young nun who accompanied them, Sister Hilaria. She has been ravished and smothered during the assault, her body stripped of its nun's habit and tossed into the lake to disappear until the spring thaw -- except for the sharp eyes of Brother Cadfael.
Just when Cadfael (along with Hugh, who has arrived to assist with the search) thinks that he has found two members of the missing party, Yves disappears yet again. This time, he vanishes with Brother Elyas, who runs into the snow as his memory begins to return and he recalls something startling about what happened with Sister Hilaria. And as Yves goes, Ermina arrives, appearing to Cadfael in a blaze of brilliance. When the sub-prior from Worcester claimed that Ermina would be "reckoned very beautiful," he wasn't kidding. And Ermina turns out to be every bit as interesting and strong willed as others have claimed, but she has clearly learned from her mistakes and has repented of her sins.
With Ermina found, Cadfael must find Yves again, along with Brother Elyas, and in the process he finds the band of vagabonds who have been raiding the countryside. The Virgin in the Ice manages to interweave a number of story lines, but for me it did so seamlessly and enjoyably. Cadfael plays an important role, but the reader also gets to experience events without him present, providing a more omniscient narration. And the end is a revelation that left me as a reader breathless with delight. Peters pulls out what might be the best surprise yet, and it absolutely caught me off guard and offered a much clearer story arc for what follows.
Year of publication: 1982
Number of pages: 271
The Virgin in the Ice begins in November of 1139, with Shropshire struggling against not only the evils of civil war but also of the approach of a terrible winter. In the former case, the empress's supporters have overrun the city of Worcester, leaving its inhabitants to flee all directions and a few of them to land in Shrewsbury. Among those not fleeing but still looking for rest as the under-sheriff Hugh Beringar and his lovely wife Aline who is expecting their first child. As one of Hugh's closest friends, Cadfael is just as delighted for the upcoming birth.
As a severe winter gradually approaches, the abbey receives an unexpected request. The sub-prior from the abbey in Worcester brings word that the raid on that city sent some significant refugees running for safety. Young Ermina Hugonin and her brother Yves fled from the city, accompanied by Ermina's tutor Sister Hilaria. They were headed in the direction of Shrewsbury, but they never arrived, and now the children's uncle Laurence d'Angers is attempting to find them. Unfortunately, he has returned from the Crusades to side with the empress, and no empress's man is to be allowed in Shropshire, which is firmly in the king's power now. So, the sheriff promises assistance in locating the children and delivering them safely to their uncle, and Cadfael is certainly going to keep an eye out himself. Perhaps more to the point, Ermina has been described as "very beautiful," creating further dangers for her in this lawless land.
As all of this occurs, the abbey receives a request from the priory of Bromfield: a monk who was recently a visitor of Bromfield was attacked on his way home and left for dead; nearby farmers found him just in time and returned to the priory. Prior Leonard requests Cadfael's assistance in helping this unfortunate man recover. from his wounds. So, as the snow begins to fall and the wind begins to blow Cadfael rides to Bromfield to help the unfortunate Brother Elyas.
Prior Leonard was hardly mistaken. Brother Elyas was apparently attacked by a band of vagabonds and left to die in the snow, and his mind has been terribly damaged by what has occurred. Cadfael begins looking around to find has perpetrated this evil against a monk, and in the process he stumbles across young Yves. But his sister and her tutor are not with him, and Yves doesn't know where they are. But he does fill out some of the story to help Cadfael. The lady Ermina is quite headstrong and planned to travel to the manor of her intended (or the man she has chosen as her intended), but she rode off to him in the night and left the others to fend for themselves. Yves saw her go and went after her but got lost in the snow. As Cadfael takes Yves back to Bromfield, he sees something that frightens him greatly trapped in the newly frozen ice: the body of a young woman whom he believes to be the still-missing Ermina.
The next day, Cadfael and others go back to the ice to retrieve the young woman's body. As the ice melts from around her back at Bromfield, Cadfael asks Yves to identify her, and Yves recognizes her not as his sister but rather as the young nun who accompanied them, Sister Hilaria. She has been ravished and smothered during the assault, her body stripped of its nun's habit and tossed into the lake to disappear until the spring thaw -- except for the sharp eyes of Brother Cadfael.
Just when Cadfael (along with Hugh, who has arrived to assist with the search) thinks that he has found two members of the missing party, Yves disappears yet again. This time, he vanishes with Brother Elyas, who runs into the snow as his memory begins to return and he recalls something startling about what happened with Sister Hilaria. And as Yves goes, Ermina arrives, appearing to Cadfael in a blaze of brilliance. When the sub-prior from Worcester claimed that Ermina would be "reckoned very beautiful," he wasn't kidding. And Ermina turns out to be every bit as interesting and strong willed as others have claimed, but she has clearly learned from her mistakes and has repented of her sins.
With Ermina found, Cadfael must find Yves again, along with Brother Elyas, and in the process he finds the band of vagabonds who have been raiding the countryside. The Virgin in the Ice manages to interweave a number of story lines, but for me it did so seamlessly and enjoyably. Cadfael plays an important role, but the reader also gets to experience events without him present, providing a more omniscient narration. And the end is a revelation that left me as a reader breathless with delight. Peters pulls out what might be the best surprise yet, and it absolutely caught me off guard and offered a much clearer story arc for what follows.
Year of publication: 1982
Number of pages: 271
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Fiction,
Historical Fiction,
Historical Fiction Mysteries,
Modern Literature,
Mysteries
| Reactions: |
18 August 2010
Book Review: Saint Peter's Fair, by Ellis Peters
This is apparently the day of reviews for books I didn't enjoy, and Saint Peter's Fair has always been a part of that list. I don't know why. It's a great story, well constructed and beautifully written. It just didn't take with me. Reading it a second time gave me a fresh perspective, and I'll admit that I appreciated it more upon a second reading. But I'll never love this story.
Saint Peter's Fair (with the eponymous story set in July of 1139) is a major event for the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in Shrewsbury. The fair lasts for three days and draws merchants from around England and even surrounding countries. During the fair, according to royal charter, local merchants of Shrewsbury may not conduct business, and the abbey alone profits from the tolls that each merchant pays. Just before the fair begins, the merchants join the daily chapter at the abbey to request that Abbot Radulfus donate some of the gains from the fair to the town. (In the previous year, the town had suffered when King Stephen took the town from supporters of the Empress Maud. See One Corpse Too Many.) The abbot declines, noting that the terms of the charter are firm and that he has no right to change them.
As the merchants begin arriving, the sons of the merchants decide to take a different approach. They address the merchants directly to request that they pay some of the toll price to the towns. The merchants are unimpressed and refuse to be caught up in this dispute between town and abbey. Among the newly arrived to Shrewsbury is the wealthy and powerful wine merchant Thomas of Bristol. The leader of the merchant sons is Philip Corviser who attempts to stop Master Thomas to have a further word with him. The arrest is unexpected, and the wine merchant responds by striking the young man, instigating a full-on riot. The sheriff's men arrive soon after, and all but young Philip are dragged into the castle keep to account for their actions.
And the fair proceeds uninhibited any further. Master Thomas's assistants prepare his wares for selling, with his lovely young niece Emma Vernold to assist. The next morning, the fair is in full swing, but it turns out that Master Thomas is nowhere to be found. Emma notifies the authorities, and soon after the man's body is found in the river, stripped and stabbed. Given Philip Corviser's recent run-in with the man, he is the primary suspect. And given that he was overheard breathing murderous threats against Master Thomas at the tavern just a few hours before the merchant was killed, the odds mount against him. Philip is arrested on suspicion, although the sheriff and others have their doubts that the young man was involved. Foolish and headstrong, but an unlikely murdered.
More to the point, murder has occurred during the abbey's fair, and Abbot Radulfus takes it personally on behalf of the abbey and the order. He assigns Cadfael to the case, asking that he clear up what he can while the fair continues. And Cadfael sets to work. No sooner does Cadfael get started than the crimes continue to mount. Emma's barge is searched, and she claims that a pair of gloves has been stolen. Then, her late uncle's stall at the fair is searched. And then, the glover is murdered. The odds that appeared to be mounting against Philip Corviser diminish to virtually nothing -- since he has been sitting in prison during the latest crimes. Similarly, the odds that the crimes are just expected mischief during the fair decrease rapidly, while the odds that there is a far more serious conspiracy afoot rise exponentially.
So, Cadfael, with a little help from Brother Mark and Philip Corviser, uses his skills once again to untangle the case and place the guilt where it belongs. And as Cadfael had begun to suspect, this case delves into the realm of political conspiracy, with the factions on each side of this nation that is torn apart pitted against each other in intrigues. To be honest, this really is a good story, if the romance angle gets wrapped up a bit too quickly at the end. But there are always good stories that don't work for us, and this is one of that category for me.
A quick note on the film version: it stinks. Avoid it. Large portions of the story are removed, making it more confusing rather than less, and Hugh Beringar takes on a quality that is entirely inappropriate to his role in this or any other Cadfael book.
Year of publication: 1981
Number of pages: 224
Saint Peter's Fair (with the eponymous story set in July of 1139) is a major event for the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in Shrewsbury. The fair lasts for three days and draws merchants from around England and even surrounding countries. During the fair, according to royal charter, local merchants of Shrewsbury may not conduct business, and the abbey alone profits from the tolls that each merchant pays. Just before the fair begins, the merchants join the daily chapter at the abbey to request that Abbot Radulfus donate some of the gains from the fair to the town. (In the previous year, the town had suffered when King Stephen took the town from supporters of the Empress Maud. See One Corpse Too Many.) The abbot declines, noting that the terms of the charter are firm and that he has no right to change them.
As the merchants begin arriving, the sons of the merchants decide to take a different approach. They address the merchants directly to request that they pay some of the toll price to the towns. The merchants are unimpressed and refuse to be caught up in this dispute between town and abbey. Among the newly arrived to Shrewsbury is the wealthy and powerful wine merchant Thomas of Bristol. The leader of the merchant sons is Philip Corviser who attempts to stop Master Thomas to have a further word with him. The arrest is unexpected, and the wine merchant responds by striking the young man, instigating a full-on riot. The sheriff's men arrive soon after, and all but young Philip are dragged into the castle keep to account for their actions.
And the fair proceeds uninhibited any further. Master Thomas's assistants prepare his wares for selling, with his lovely young niece Emma Vernold to assist. The next morning, the fair is in full swing, but it turns out that Master Thomas is nowhere to be found. Emma notifies the authorities, and soon after the man's body is found in the river, stripped and stabbed. Given Philip Corviser's recent run-in with the man, he is the primary suspect. And given that he was overheard breathing murderous threats against Master Thomas at the tavern just a few hours before the merchant was killed, the odds mount against him. Philip is arrested on suspicion, although the sheriff and others have their doubts that the young man was involved. Foolish and headstrong, but an unlikely murdered.
More to the point, murder has occurred during the abbey's fair, and Abbot Radulfus takes it personally on behalf of the abbey and the order. He assigns Cadfael to the case, asking that he clear up what he can while the fair continues. And Cadfael sets to work. No sooner does Cadfael get started than the crimes continue to mount. Emma's barge is searched, and she claims that a pair of gloves has been stolen. Then, her late uncle's stall at the fair is searched. And then, the glover is murdered. The odds that appeared to be mounting against Philip Corviser diminish to virtually nothing -- since he has been sitting in prison during the latest crimes. Similarly, the odds that the crimes are just expected mischief during the fair decrease rapidly, while the odds that there is a far more serious conspiracy afoot rise exponentially.
So, Cadfael, with a little help from Brother Mark and Philip Corviser, uses his skills once again to untangle the case and place the guilt where it belongs. And as Cadfael had begun to suspect, this case delves into the realm of political conspiracy, with the factions on each side of this nation that is torn apart pitted against each other in intrigues. To be honest, this really is a good story, if the romance angle gets wrapped up a bit too quickly at the end. But there are always good stories that don't work for us, and this is one of that category for me.
A quick note on the film version: it stinks. Avoid it. Large portions of the story are removed, making it more confusing rather than less, and Hugh Beringar takes on a quality that is entirely inappropriate to his role in this or any other Cadfael book.
Year of publication: 1981
Number of pages: 224
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Fiction,
Historical Fiction,
Historical Fiction Mysteries,
Modern Literature,
Mysteries
| Reactions: |
Book Review: The Faerie Queene, by Edmund Spenser
Well, I read it. I can't say I really enjoyed it, though. I figured out that this wasn't going to be my cup of tea about 30 pages into the first book, but I had committed to finishing it. And finish it I did.
The basic structure of this massive poem is simple. Each of the six books represents a different Christian virtue: Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, Friendship, Justice, and Courtesy. Within each, a knight must battle various evils -- metaphorical but presented as actual monsters or villains. Each book tends to contain a woman of high character and a woman of low character, and they're not difficult to spot or tell apart. The woman of low character often appears in that oh-so-mysterious shade of vibrant red, and her womanly wiles do not fool the good knight for long. The woman of high character, on the other hand, is usually weepy and wimpy, and there is little to distinguish one from the other.
If you're getting the idea that I didn't particularly care for these themes, then you're spot on. I have no problem with traditional literature that features valiant knights and ladies that occasionally need a bit of rescuing, but some authors, far from making this motif interesting, simply gag the reader with it. Spenser is one such. In fact, in Book 5 he opines (in the original style of spelling):
Such is the crueltie of womenkynd,
When they haue shaken off the shamefast band,
With which wise Nature did them strongly bynd,
T'obay the heasts of mans well ruling hand,
That then all rule and reason they withstand,
To purchase a licentious libertie.
But vertuous women wisely vunderstand,
That they were borne to base humilitie,
Vnlesse the heauens them lift to lawfull soueraintie.
So, women not properly under a "mans well ruling hand" are just licentious tarts, because women are "borne to base humilitie"? (Except in the rare cases when they are lifted "to lawfull soueraintie," as -- I have to point out -- Spenser's patroness Queen Elizabeth was.) Am I unreasonable to find this a bit...silly? At the same time, this stanza functions more as an aside from Spenser to fulfill a personal vendetta than it does a serious interpretation of the biblical relationship between man and woman, so perhaps I should cut Spenser some slack for being human and getting a little carried away while writing.
I find it interesting that in the letter that Spenser wrote to Sir Walter Raleigh "expounding his whole intention" of The Faerie Queene, Spenser claims that he worries readers might get so caught up in the story that the overlook its moral purposes. I can't help but wonder how deprived of entertainment Spenser's Elizabethan readers were to cause this concern. Spenser more or less hits the reader over the head with moralizing from page one. But I'll admit to being a reader who prefers a more, shall we say, subtle approach. And I dislike allegory in almost all of its forms. (No fan of The Pilgrim's Progress here.)
So, I gave The Faerie Queene a try. And it wasn't for me. In all fairness, though, this might be for you. Whatever the message, the poetry is beautiful and very enjoyable in places. Just expect to be in for a lot of the same during each book. In other words, read one, and you'll pretty much have read them all. The only major value of reading all six is that you'll gain a repertoire of somewhat bizarre names.
Year of publication: 1590,1596
Number of pages: 1247
The basic structure of this massive poem is simple. Each of the six books represents a different Christian virtue: Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, Friendship, Justice, and Courtesy. Within each, a knight must battle various evils -- metaphorical but presented as actual monsters or villains. Each book tends to contain a woman of high character and a woman of low character, and they're not difficult to spot or tell apart. The woman of low character often appears in that oh-so-mysterious shade of vibrant red, and her womanly wiles do not fool the good knight for long. The woman of high character, on the other hand, is usually weepy and wimpy, and there is little to distinguish one from the other.
If you're getting the idea that I didn't particularly care for these themes, then you're spot on. I have no problem with traditional literature that features valiant knights and ladies that occasionally need a bit of rescuing, but some authors, far from making this motif interesting, simply gag the reader with it. Spenser is one such. In fact, in Book 5 he opines (in the original style of spelling):
Such is the crueltie of womenkynd,
When they haue shaken off the shamefast band,
With which wise Nature did them strongly bynd,
T'obay the heasts of mans well ruling hand,
That then all rule and reason they withstand,
To purchase a licentious libertie.
But vertuous women wisely vunderstand,
That they were borne to base humilitie,
Vnlesse the heauens them lift to lawfull soueraintie.
So, women not properly under a "mans well ruling hand" are just licentious tarts, because women are "borne to base humilitie"? (Except in the rare cases when they are lifted "to lawfull soueraintie," as -- I have to point out -- Spenser's patroness Queen Elizabeth was.) Am I unreasonable to find this a bit...silly? At the same time, this stanza functions more as an aside from Spenser to fulfill a personal vendetta than it does a serious interpretation of the biblical relationship between man and woman, so perhaps I should cut Spenser some slack for being human and getting a little carried away while writing.
I find it interesting that in the letter that Spenser wrote to Sir Walter Raleigh "expounding his whole intention" of The Faerie Queene, Spenser claims that he worries readers might get so caught up in the story that the overlook its moral purposes. I can't help but wonder how deprived of entertainment Spenser's Elizabethan readers were to cause this concern. Spenser more or less hits the reader over the head with moralizing from page one. But I'll admit to being a reader who prefers a more, shall we say, subtle approach. And I dislike allegory in almost all of its forms. (No fan of The Pilgrim's Progress here.)
So, I gave The Faerie Queene a try. And it wasn't for me. In all fairness, though, this might be for you. Whatever the message, the poetry is beautiful and very enjoyable in places. Just expect to be in for a lot of the same during each book. In other words, read one, and you'll pretty much have read them all. The only major value of reading all six is that you'll gain a repertoire of somewhat bizarre names.
Year of publication: 1590,1596
Number of pages: 1247
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Fantasy,
Great Books,
Poetic Literature
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16 August 2010
Book Review: The Sanctuary Sparrow, by Ellis Peters

This is the seventh book in the series, and I was hoping to review it after I finished (and reviewed) Saint Peter's Fair, which I'm reading now, and The Virgin in the Ice, which I plan to read next. But I've already read it, and I'm afraid of losing the detail that I want to write about. So here goes.
The story is set in the spring of 1140, and begins with a mass -- and a mob. The brothers of the abbey are quietly at their services when they are rudely interrupted by a most unexpected invasion. A young man flies through the brothers to reach the altar, while an angry mob races after him and begins striking and kicking the poor man. Abbot Radulfus intervenes immediately and threatens excommunication on any who continues the attack, demanding to know the source of this apparent injustice. As the multiple screams of the mob merge into a single voice, it becomes clear what the problem is. The evening happens to be the wedding night of young Daniel Aurifaber, son of the wealthy goldsmith in Shrewsbury. During the feast, Daniel's father Walter had taken his new daughter-in-law's dowry into his workshop for safekeeping and while there was struck down and robbed. The cry is not only of theft but also of murder, and the young man being hunted is the minstrel who was tossed out of the wedding feast not a few hours earlier.
The young man -- named Liliwin -- was performing his skills when he accidentally broke a valued piece of Aurifaber family pottery. Walter's mother Juliana was furious and sent Liliwin away without his wages. It is assumed that Liliwin must be responsible for knocking Walter over the head and stealing what he believed to be his pay. Unfortunately, for the angry mob Liliwin has claimed sanctuary by clutching the altar cloth, and sanctuary gives him 40 days in the safety of the abbey to prove his innocence. Once the air clears the next morning, further details come to light. For one, Walter Aurifaber is not dead after all but only stunned from a blow to the head. His wealth is still missing, however, and the Aurifaber family stands convinced that Liliwin must be responsible. The only one who believes firmly in his innocence is the Aurifaber's serving girl Ranilt who got to know Liliwin before the wedding feast and determined that he could not have done something so hateful.
No sooner does Shrewsbury adjust to the recent criminal activity than another crime occurs. This time, the crime really is murder, and the victim in the Aurifaber's nosy neighbor Baldwin Peche. Cadfael realizes that there is far more to the case than a jongleur who was shorted his pay, and he begins to look more closely into just what has been happening with the Aurifaber family and why so much suffering should fall on them at once.
The most interesting part of the story might not be the mystery so much as the descriptions of the characters who are involved. In particular, the Aurifaber family bears mentioning. To describe Walter et al. as "avaricious" would be generous. These people are obsessed with their money and with hanging onto it. Walter has a daughter named Susanna, but Susanna lives at home and manages the household. The reason? Well, it's not because Susanna was unable to find a husband but rather that Walter was unwilling to give her a dowry to marry. So, he basically forced her to remain at home and become a slave to the household management in order to avoid spending any money on her. And one of the most memorable scenes in the story is that of Walter groveling on the ground to collect the wealth that has been returned to him -- and at the most inappropriate time.
As with all Cadfael stories, this one contains the expected trifecta of the waif in need, the murder that must be solved, and the romance that occurs between two of the characters. Some might find this combination of features to become dull and excessively familiar, but I like it -- particularly the romance part. The appearance of a romance in a story that follows the mystery-solving experiences of a 12th-century monk is a nice addition and provides the necessary sense of roundness that any story needs.
Year of publication: 1983
Number of pages: 271
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Fiction,
Historical Fiction,
Historical Fiction Mysteries,
Modern Literature,
Mysteries
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13 August 2010
Book Review: The Hermit of Eyton Forest

This is the fifteenth book in the series, and the story is set in October of 1142, with the news that Richard Ludel, lord of Eaton Manor, dies from wounds sustained while supporting the king in battle. Ludel's heir is his ten-year-old son Richard who happens to be a student at the abbey. Some years before, young Richard's father decided to make Abbot Radulfus the guardian of his son in an apparent attempt to remove the child from the grasp of his grandmother Dame Dionisia. It would seem that the lady has ambitions to forge an alliance between Richard and the daughter of an adjoining landowner. What is slightly horrific is that she wants the marriage to occur as soon as possible, between ten-year-old Richard and twenty-year-old Hiltrude. Needless to say, Richard has no such interests, and Abbot Radulfus has no intention of letting Richard out of his protection.
In the meantime, Dame Dionisia has allowed a holy man to inhabit the hermitage on her property. This holy man, a hermit who calls himself Cuthred, appears to be fully devout and fully on the lady's payroll, so to speak. He sends his messenger, a young man named Hyacinth, to request that the abbot allow Richard to live with his grandmother. The abbot is unmoved, but Richard definitely wants to keep track of what is going on, so he corners Hyacinth and earns himself an unexpected friend in the process.
As all of this is going on, two visitors arrive at the abbey: a rather grotesque landowner in search of his escaped villein and a mysterious man who goes only by Rafe of Coventry. The landowner applies to the abbot for any news of his villein, and the description sets off Brother Jerome who confides in him that the villein in question just might be Hyacinth. Fearful for his friend, Richard sets off for the hermitage to warn Hyacinth: but the boy never returns. Once the abbot realizes what has happened, he sets the sheriff, the sheriff's men, and Brother Cadfael out to look for the child, and in the course of their search they stumble across the dead body of the very landowner who was looking for Hyacinth. At this point, all signs point to Hyacinth, and Brother Cadfael must do what he can to clear the young man's name while also doing what he can to find Richard. In The Hermit of Eyton Forest, however, Cadfael does not so much go a great deal of "detecting" as he does receiving, because much of the information comes to him and gives him the opportunity to work out the fine details.
As with all of the Cadfael books, there are various twists and turns -- one that caught me completely by surprise on my first reading -- and the ending is more bittersweet than anything else. I appreciated the medieval sense of honor and loyalty that Peters explored, as it is so alien to our world. Is this one of the better books? Hard to say. But it's one that I enjoyed and that I would recommend as a clever story with a few good surprises.
Year of publication: 1988
Number of pages: 240
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Fiction,
Historical Fiction,
Historical Fiction Mysteries,
Modern Literature,
Mysteries
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Friggatriskaidekaphobia
The fear of Friday the 13th.
I've never experienced this particular fear, but then again I tend to face each day with the idea that life pretty much stinks. That way, I can be pleasantly surprised when it doesn't. It's not as much of a downer as it sounds -- and it removes the obnoxious sense of entitlement that seems to be driving much of modern American culture.
I've never experienced this particular fear, but then again I tend to face each day with the idea that life pretty much stinks. That way, I can be pleasantly surprised when it doesn't. It's not as much of a downer as it sounds -- and it removes the obnoxious sense of entitlement that seems to be driving much of modern American culture.
05 August 2010
Book Review: The Leper of Saint Giles, by Ellis Peters

And while at Saint Giles, Cadfael also has the opportunity to watch the wedding party pass on its way to the abbey. Huon de Domville, it turns out, is far from a young stripling preparing to embark on marriage; instead, he is a fairly grotesque man of middle age who has worked out a marriage arrangement that will add considerably to his wealth and, with hope, give him an heir. Iveta de Massard, on the other hand, is beautiful and young -- barely eighteen and the ward of an aunt and uncle who are delighted to marry her off and parcel out her property between themselves and the bridegroom. It doesn't take much to see that Iveta is hardly excited about this marriage, and it doesn't take long to see why.
Later that day, Cadfael returns to his herb workshop to find Iveta in company with one of Huon de Domville's squires, Joscelin Lucy. The moment is a brief one: Iveta stole away quietly in hopes of seeing Joscelin for a few minutes. For his part, Joscelin is a well-born young man, heir to manors of his own, and whose interest in Iveta is a mixture of love and righteous indignation at the way her wishes have been ignored in the planning of this marriage. Unfortunately for the two of them, Iveta's aunt Agnes Picard is hard on Cadfael's heels and sees just enough to tell her that Joscelin is still trouble. With the marriage still two days away, Iveta's aunt and uncle have to find a way to get rid of the young man.
And get rid of them they do. Agnes complains to her husband Godfrid who complains to Huon de Domville -- who turns Joscelin out of his service, just before accusing him of theft. And when the master demands that Joscelin's belongings be searched, a fine necklace is discovered within. The event is just a bit too good to be true, but the sheriff has no choice but to accept the evidence for what it is and take Joscelin into custody. The young man does manage to escape before arriving at the castle, and with the help of his friend and fellow squire Simon Aguilon (who is also Huon de Domville's heir), Joscelin remains secreted in the vicinity.
The day of the wedding arrives, and Iveta seems resigned to her fate. The guests arrive for the service. The bride arrives to be joined in matrimony. And the bridegroom doesn't show up. It finally becomes apparent that this is a case of more than just someone choosing to be "fashionably late," and when Simon Aguilon reveals that his master decided to take the air the previous evening and never returned, the search party sets out. Huon de Domville is discovered some miles away, sprawled out on the ground and apparently the victim of murder. Looking closely, Cadfael can discern that the man was first pulled from his horse with the help of a cord strung between two trees and then strangled. With a day of rejoicing turned to a day of mourning, the search party carries the bridegroom back to the abbey, where Joscelin Lucy is once again accused -- this time of murdering his former master.
Meanwhile, Joscelin has found a new hiding place, and he conceals himself among the lepers of Saint Giles with the help of the mysterious older resident there. Brother Mark keeps an eye on him and realizes fairly quickly that this spry and agile creature in the leper's cloak and hood cannot possibly be one of the suffering, but without knowing the full background of the young man's situation he holds his peace and lets Lucy remain there. At the same time, Cadfael puts his knowledge of herbs to good use by recognizing that the small group of flowers tucked into Huon de Domville's cap is a rare breed and could only grow in a few locations. He sets out to find the right one, and in doing so makes a startling discovery about the bridegroom's final night and where he spent it.
Along the way, Cadfael discovers the identity of the murdered and yet another dead body -- that of Iveta's uncle Godfrid Picard. This death is also pinned on the guilty party, although Cadfael suspects that the second death was quite unlike the first. In unraveling the clues, Cadfael realizes that there is more to bind the lepers of Saint Giles to the wedding party than just the hiding presence of Joscelin Lucy, and he learns that the truth of the situation goes further into the past than is first suspected.
On a personal note, this is another favorite of mine, and if I were to recommend specific Cadfael books The Leper of Saint Giles would be on the must-read list. Despite the fact that I was familiar with the story, it captured my interest all over again, and I read it start-to-finish in almost a single sitting. (In other words, guess what I did this morning...when I had other things I should have been doing.) Some stories just work better than others, and I'd place this one in that category.
Year of publication: 1981
Number of pages: 250
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Fiction,
Historical Fiction,
Historical Fiction Mysteries,
Modern Literature,
Mysteries
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Book Review: Monk's Hood, by Ellis Peters

In the meantime, the abbey's rather painfully self-righteous Prior Robert will be in charge -- with support from his simpering underling Brother Jerome. It is also assumed that if Abbot Heribert is removed, Prior Robert will take his place. The Christmas season feels a little less joyous to the brothers at the Abbey of St. Peter and St. Paul.
Prior Robert expects all to work in his favor, so he encourages Master Bonel and his household to relocate to Shrewsbury to begin the process of transferring the Bonel estate of Mallilie to the abbey. Shortly after the arrival of the Bonels, the prior decides to send an offering of friendship to the household by giving Master Bonel a portion of a roasted partridge from his own table. No sooner does Master Bonel eat it than he succumbs to a severe attack, and he is soon dead. Cadfael, as the resident herbalist, rushes to the scene to discover that the man has been poisoned and by a concoction of Cadfael's own making. The primary ingredient is an herb called monkshood, or wolfsbane, and Cadfael learns that the vial of the herb was taken from the abbey's infirmary. It is there that Cadfael uses it solely as a topical application, with the mixture helping to ease the discomfort of sore muscles among the aging brothers.
While at the Bonel household, Cadfael makes another discovery. Mistress Bonel happens to be the same Richildis to whom he was engaged before he left for the Crusades, some forty years earlier. Gervaise Bonel was Richildis's second husband, her first having died a number of years before and leaving her with two children: Sybil (who is older and married to a carpenter in town) and fifteen-year-old Edwin. When she agreed to marry Master Bonel, Richildis also struck a deal with him in Edwin's favor. As Master Bonel had no legitimate children, Edwin would become his heir. Unfortunately, Edwin and his step-father fell out, leading the step-father to disinherit Edwin. And also unfortunately, Edwin had been present at the meal that killed his step-father and had argued with him just a few minutes before he ran out of the house in anger. The sheriff sets upon young Edwin as the most likely culprit, and it is only with the help of Edwin's family that he escapes capture for the time being.
It is up to Cadfael to provide what assistance he can to Edwin and to solve what proves to be a complicated mystery, involving more than just a simple matter of catching the bad guy and exonerating the good guy. And Cadfael is ultimately successful, though at what some might view as a moral cost. But Peters asks readers to think beyond simple good guy and bad guy and to consider human error and what motivates people to sin. Bad does not prevail, of course, but neither is this story a simple matter of lynching the murderer.
Year of publication: 1980
Number of pages: 224
Labels:
Book Reviews,
Fiction,
Historical Fiction,
Historical Fiction Mysteries,
Modern Literature,
Mysteries
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01 August 2010
Ballerina on the Boat
I don't really have a category for this one, but it's worth sharing.
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