Review: Almodis the Peaceweaver by Tracey Warr

 This book was provided by the author's publisher via my lady Blodeuedd's excellent blog in return for an honest review. I haven't been compensated for writing the said review in any way and the fact that the book came free of charge didn't influence me either.    

Book info: 

Format: pdf file

Genre: historical fiction

Target audience: adults

A quote that stole my heart:

“I could work as a peasant in a field and live in a small hut built into the side of the mountain.
I could hunt my own food, write a book of my life, but I would never see my children or my sister again.
 I don’t care about clothes and jewels and castles but I would miss my books.”

Synopsis:

After generations of fighting amongst the ruling families of 11th century Occitania, the marriage of Almodis, daughter of the Count of La Marche, to Hugh of Lusignan is intended to bring peace and harmony to the region. Youg Almodis, raised by her grandfather among troubadours, trobairitz (female troubadours, imagine that) , books and poetry, of course expects much more, especially that her betrothed is handsome, young an amiable. Unfortunately he is also overly religious, almost to the point of complete zealotry. He would be a great monk. Instead, he has to produce heirs with his inexperienced but far more practical bride. As you can imagine the union does’t work; that’s why, after the birth of twin boys and a daughter (don’t even ask me how it was done or possible at all, you must find out on your own), their marriage is repudiated. Almodis is still resolved to create her own dynasty. She marries for the second time, choosing a far more important and more powerful man, Pons the Count of Toulouse.

Pons is old, ugly, stupid and lascivious. His young wife suffers greatly from his attentions but, as an ambitious princess, she gives him several children. When that grisly task is over she doesn’t want to even look at Pons any longer. It makes the Count very angry. He wants to imprison Almodis in a covent ( or rather literally brick her in an anchorite cell there so she knows who rules the roost). She barely escapes and marries for the third time. Her third husband, Ramon of Barcelona, seems to have it all (finally you might add): he is handsome, he’s been in love with Almodis for ages and he has political ambitions well-suited for such a lady. However, his grandmother Dowager Countess of Barcelona is against that marriage as, in her opinion, a marriage of inclination is strongly condemned in Catalonia. Will Almodis finally find her place and happiness she deserves?

What I liked:

The story of Almodis was written with a detailed care concerning history and our knowledge of that era. The main heroine, Almodis, was a woman who would deserve more than one novel. She was the ‘peaceweaver’ but also a passionate, intelligent woman who had to fight for her right to be happy, a living proof that life of a princess could be as difficult (if not much more difficult) than a life of a simple peasant woman. I really appreciated the fact that the author didn’t condone that simple truth, showing even in the very first scene how ugly things could turn out if a princess had forgotten herself.

After all her life was full of interesting ups and downs; what’s more, she was the mother of Raymond of Toulouse, a famous crusader and a great lord. The author informs us that both Martin Aurell (1995) and Jacques Le Goff (1980) have suggested that Almodis was the canvas for the Roman of Melusine, which was associated with the castle of Lusignan (check out that Melusine if you haven’t heard about her yet!) .

The cover is lovely!

What I didn’t like:
The narration is divided into several points of view and I found it a bit misleading, sometimes really awkward, especially that all the narrative voices of those different people seemed to be very similar to the voice of Almodis herself…they were simply not distinguishable enough to add to the story. I would rather the whole novel was written in the first person.

My other reservation concerns the plot. It isn’t one smooth continuum of a narration but simply seems to consist of episodes. Things tend to be told, not shown and overall the whole pacing is rather surprising, with events running too quickly (or at least such was my impression) - in one chapter Almodis is married, in the second she already has three children with Hugh, then they annul their marriage, she is married to Pons, bear him children…a real whirlwind! It is closer to a chronicle than a novel.

I know, basically she had five babies in three years, poor woman, with more to come, but it really sounded a bit like she just jumped from one marriage to the next, spouting children all along, without thinking or pondering over her situation much. She was a grand lady, by the way, not a peasant who would have to take care of all her progeny on her own.


Finally I found such an exchange in the text:

“‘We can’t push her to it, Dia, she’d only resist,’ I say, when she’s gone out

riding. ‘You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.”

When I read it I gasped. Oh really? So it is, according to the author, something which comes from the 11th century Occitania or France? Well, I found a different etymology of that one: according to this site

[This saying] was recorded as early as 1175 in Old English Homilies:

Hwa is thet mei thet hors wettrien the him self nule drinken
[who can give water to the horse that will not drink of its own accord?] and is considered the oldest English proverb (emphasis mine). Hmmm...

Final verdict:

The narrative glitches spoiled this book for me a bit but if I find another novel about Almodis I will read it for sure!

Review: The Discovery of Jeanne Baret by Glynis Ridley

Genre: non-fiction, historical

Target audience: adults

Book form: paperback, 291 pages

 This book was provided by the author's publisher via my lady Blodeuedd's excellent blog in return for an honest review. I haven't been compensated for writing the said review in any way and the fact that the book came free of charge didn't influence me either.   

Synopsis (excerpts from Amazon.com):

The year was 1765. Eminent botanist Philibert Commerson had just been appointed to a grand new expedition: the first French circumnavigation of the world. As the ships’ official naturalist, Commerson would seek out resources—medicines, spices, timber, food—that could give the French an edge in the ever-accelerating race for empire.

Jeanne Baret, Commerson’s young mistress, housekeeper and collaborator, was desperate not to be left behind. She disguised herself as a teenage boy and signed on as his assistant. The journey made the twenty-six-year-old, known to her shipmates as “Jean” rather than “Jeanne,” the first woman to ever sail around the globe. Yet so little is known about this extraordinary woman, whose accomplishments were considered to be subversive, even impossible for someone of her sex and class.
            
When the ships made landfall and the secret lovers disembarked to explore, Baret carried heavy wooden field presses and bulky optical instruments over beaches and hills, impressing observers on the ships’ decks with her obvious strength and stamina. Less obvious were the strips of linen wound tight around her upper body and the months she had spent perfecting her masculine disguise in the streets and marketplaces of Paris.
            
In The Discovery of Jeanne Baret, Glynis Ridley unravels the conflicting accounts recorded by Baret’s crewmates to piece together the real story: how Baret’s identity was in fact widely suspected within just a couple of weeks of embarking, and the painful consequences of those suspicions; the newly discovered notebook, written in Baret’s own hand, that proves her scientific acumen; and the thousands of specimens she collected, most famously the showy vine bougainvillea.
 

What I liked:

This book is definitely a very well-researched position which presents plenty of interesting facts concerning life and habits of people living in the 18^th century in France and abroad. Although the main emphasis is on the ethnobotanical tradition and, more generally, French scientists and thinkers such as Jean le Rond d’Alembert, Denis Diderot, Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Voltaire, the ordinary people and their fates are mentioned often as well, especially women.

The narrative voice of Ms Ridley is quiet and pleasant although you really must take your time to get into the book. When you finally find the right rhythm, though, you can find such interesting historical tidbits as a short history of the coffee trade, and a fresh look into the situation of women in France prior to the Great Revolution (I didn’t know that they were not allowed to rent a flat on their own or stay on a ship for longer than just a moment – it was the law mind you!)

Overall, if you are a girl/woman living in Europe or in the USA, after reading this book you might stop complaining about your life for a significant period of time. The fates of women used to be much, much worse, especially poor, uneducated women who, like Jeanne, gave birth to an illegitimate child.

What I didn’t like:

With a title like that, I expected the book would be more focused on the main heroine, Jeanne Baret, who was the first woman to make a tour around the world on a ship. In other words, I expected a portrait, perhaps with some other people close to her and  plants in the background. What I got was a full-scale landscape, teeming with different people, plants, breathtaking vistas, ships, cities, and even animals. The heroine was a bit lost in the middle of all these goodies and, in my opinion, the whole book suffered because of that.

Don’t get me wrong – we still get to know plenty about Jeanne, her family and her profession. However, it is a bit too diluted; as soon as you start getting interested in the story of this strong and undoubtedly very brave woman the author throws your way one digression after the other; even if these are interesting per se, they dwarf poor Jeanne and her ordeal, making the book bland as a result

Final verdict

I feel Jeanne Baret’s life deserves our full attention – I suppose she would be a great heroine of a truly gripping fictional story. Let me use this section to tell you why I think so.

This peasant female botanist was literate in times when 90% of women couldn’t read and write but still she couldn’t support herself without relying on Philibert Commerson. She became his mistress but also she helped him in his career, teaching him about plants and their properties. She had to give up their child to an orphanage most likely because the boy would be an obstacle to Commerson’s plans. Then she did what she could to be able to accompany him during a three-year long journey -  she took every risk possible.


She worked very hard during circumnavigating the globe – harder than plenty of men around her, definitely harder than her official employer and secret lover. She had to conceal her sex while living on a rather small ship full of men (the crew was over 100 people). She had to take care of Commerson’s ailing leg and the plants they gathered together. In return she was constantly watched, manhandled from time to time and finally gang-raped by the crew at least once during the journey. Her selfish employer failed to help or defend her. After Commerson’s death, she was left high and dry - far from home, with just clothes on her back, with no money or connections to ensure her a safe return. Commerson's house in Paris with everything inside, so also Jeanne's personal effects, has been impounded. And you know what? Miraculously, she still found her happily ever after – married a soldier, returned with him to France and made a life together.

Was her time with Commerson a complete waste and failure? No. He taught her independence and she used that knowledge – after returning to France she dared petition the appropriate ministry and she received her outstanding wages – a lump sum which made it possible to buy a house and some land. I love such endings!