Your Humble Blogger has now read all three of Geraldine Brooks’sses’ novels’ses, going backwards from People of the Book, her latest and the first I read, to March in the middle, to finally reading her first novel, Year of Wonders.
This is a medieval novel (a Novel of the Plague, it subtitularly announces), and although I like medieval novels, I am skeptical of them. There are so many, you see, and so many of them are bad. Liking novels set in Medieval Europe is like a connoisseurship for, oh, ice cream. You will often be tempted, and often disappointed. There it is. I have found it the better part of valor to stay the hell away, particularly when there is plague involved.
However, having really liked one of her books and having been interestingly disappointed by another (being interestingly disappointed is ever so much better than being bored), I eventually made my way to this one, and lo! It is a good book. Not a perfect book, not even a great book for me, but a good one and a gripping one. There’s a lot to chew on, and a fair amount to be annoyed by, but still some very good stuff.
One of the things about Novels of the Plague is that either they fail to give an impression of the scale of horror we are talking about, and are annoying and/or dull in that, or they do give such an impression and are very hard to read without breaking down. This is the latter. You have been warned. On the other hand, the story is on the whole a positive one; Ms. Brooks set out to write about an inspiring (if difficult) story, and not in order to attack it and leave it in ruins, either. She doesn’t mind melodrama (thank goodness) and she is willing to shade her positives and negatives without making everybody a conflicted muddle.
I hope Ms. Brooks writes another novel. Nothing in the news about it, though, so I assume if there is one it is a good few years away. Ah, well. There are still plenty of other people’s books I haven’t read.
Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,
-Vardibidian.
Hm. Oddly enough, I read her books in order in which they were written, which means that the irritating bits of Year of Wonders came on full force in March, and I was leery of People of the Book. I shall have to go and seek it out now. Thanks!
Liking novels set in Medieval Europe is like a connoisseurship for, oh, ice cream. You will often be tempted, and often disappointed.
And here I thought you were setting up the old Gary Larson joke.
I mean, seriously. Often disappointed by ice cream?
Connoisseurship means being often disappointed. I am no ice cream connoisseur, which means I can eat soft serve or Hoodies and be happy. But imagine if you really, really liked good ice cream, could tell all kinds of stuff about fat content and air and the mixture and texture and everything, and had a hope, always, of finding a really truly great ice cream to add to your Top Five Ice Cream Experiences Ever.
There are plenty of opportunities to have ice cream. And even if it’s easy for you to turn down the soft serve, there are plenty of places that look like they might have good handmade or local cold stuff. And really? All of those roadside stands and boardwalk joints are selling stuff to people like me, who just want it cold and sweet.
Or that’s what I’m guessing. Frankly, some of those places could be selling a Top Five Ice Cream Experience Ever and I wouldn’t notice. But really, isn’t most of the ice cream in the world low quality? And if not, why not?
Thanks,
-V.