I did not know how much I needed a revisionist history of a 12th century nun crafted from the sparse known writings of a woman that some have identified as being Mary, abbess of Shaftesbury.
Side note all British names are hilarious.
In any case, from the barest outlines of a personal history Groff weaves a truly spectacular, somewhat Mary (ha) Sue-like fable of how ambition, queer longing (meh), and determination can turn a muddy, impoverished, cold abbey into a little feminist utopia. Groff apparently said she was trying to get as far away from American of 2016 – 2020…and honestly who could blame her? A book like this one is a ~3 hour escape with a veneer of truthiness/historical learnings. We’re not burying our heads in the sand, we’re wriggling our toes into it on the beach.
To be clear: this is NOT a historical retelling. There was no Marie de France, scorned Amazonian lady of the court sent off to a corner of England to live our her (quite a long number of) years as the head of an abbey without resources to survive, much less glorify god. Any suspicion that you’re reading historical fiction quickly drops away as Marie manages to overcome every obstacle set in front of her. No challenge, whispers of heresy, taxation regime, or famine moves her away from her path towards Abbey Heaven, where all who enter are free from the torments of men and medieval Europe. By the end of the novel (no real spoilers) Marie has all but invented modern sewage.
A friend found the book distracting due to Marie’s constant ability to overcome any trial set before her–and I do see that, and for some that might be a disqualifying factor. I, personally, am more than happy to read Pollyanna-ish stories of female protagonists as a balm to the day to day. [And besides…is it really a triumph if at the end of the day all of her work went up in flame?]
