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careinthelibrary's review
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Joan is a stunning piece of writing. This character study is nearly unparalleled. Full of grim violence and dirt. But also, the aroma of luxurious cinnamon.
I suppose I should give a disclaimer that I've always loved Jeanne d'Arc and this version is the best I've ever encountered. This Joan is transgressive, and Chen has done away with the 'religious fervour' narrative for the better. Yes, she's a historical figure but there's scarce information that's reliably true and relatively unbiased about her and much is apocryphal. This version of Joan of Arc resonated most with my atheist nonbinary self. She is whole here. She's a literary and folkloric figure as well as a historical person.
This novel was perfect. I think of it (a month later) still so often. The memory evokes a tightness in my chest. It's special.
Highly recommend for fans of Wolf Hall and books that take political figures and make them personal and intimate.
Below are quotes that I transposed which reading because they captured the tone, voice, and emotion of the book. Potential spoilers below.
"She lays her hand on her sister's head, the movement like a blessing. What need do we have for holy women, Joan wonders, when we have sisters like Catherine? The saint for whom Catherine is named was a virgin of exceptional beauty, a scholar who spent the duration of her short, martyred life in the city of Alexandira, in the land of Egypt. But, Joan thinks, my sister must be more beautiful than even this saint, and I would climb the highest pole to heaven to dress her in the jewels she deserves, though my hands should be rubbed raw, though every finger of mine should bleed."
"She kneels, takes Catherine's hand, and presses it flat to the space over her heart. If you die, she thinks, all of my goodness dies with you, and this, here, this heart will become as hard as stone. I am afraid of what I will become. You hold my heart in your hand."
"He turns from her, chewing on that wafer. It is his last lesson to Joan: how you should approach life when its fists are pummeling you. Head up. Shoulders back. Your heart may be breaking, but you don't let it show, not on your face or in your eyes. You walk with a spring in your step toward a destination yet unknown. And your next warm meal may be hours or days away, your next bed in an inn or in a wet ditch, but in your mouth is the taste of cinnamon. The past is the past, and the dead, buried in their shrouds, must always be left behind."
"She thinks, I have become more than just myself. I am here, in this cage. But I have another body, which is unseen. I am the battle cry, the roar of spears, pikes, and poleaxes rattling. I am the sound of a hundred horses thundering down a hill and the wind that ripples through banners, the swing of a catapult, the deafening blast and explosion of cannonry. Every soldier, young and old, who goes to war shall think of me and carry me in his soul. A hundred years from now, the sound of name will still make the English shake, though my own people will look upon me tenderly, with pride and with love. Before each battle, the foot soldiers, artillerymen, and sappers will bend their heads and call my name. They will say, Joan, give me strength and courage, and I shall hear them, wherever I am. I can never die. Here is God, in the sky and the rosy mist, ready to strike a bargain. In the roar of the waves she hears the cheers of the people — her people. She hears her sister's laughter and knows it comes from Paradise. God is listening. Into His ear, she prays. That is, she tells him: I, Joan, will return. All prayers are wishes, but this is not a wish. It is a promise."
I suppose I should give a disclaimer that I've always loved Jeanne d'Arc and this version is the best I've ever encountered. This Joan is transgressive, and Chen has done away with the 'religious fervour' narrative for the better. Yes, she's a historical figure but there's scarce information that's reliably true and relatively unbiased about her and much is apocryphal. This version of Joan of Arc resonated most with my atheist nonbinary self. She is whole here. She's a literary and folkloric figure as well as a historical person.
This novel was perfect. I think of it (a month later) still so often. The memory evokes a tightness in my chest. It's special.
Highly recommend for fans of Wolf Hall and books that take political figures and make them personal and intimate.
Below are quotes that I transposed which reading because they captured the tone, voice, and emotion of the book. Potential spoilers below.
"She lays her hand on her sister's head, the movement like a blessing. What need do we have for holy women, Joan wonders, when we have sisters like Catherine? The saint for whom Catherine is named was a virgin of exceptional beauty, a scholar who spent the duration of her short, martyred life in the city of Alexandira, in the land of Egypt. But, Joan thinks, my sister must be more beautiful than even this saint, and I would climb the highest pole to heaven to dress her in the jewels she deserves, though my hands should be rubbed raw, though every finger of mine should bleed."
"She kneels, takes Catherine's hand, and presses it flat to the space over her heart. If you die, she thinks, all of my goodness dies with you, and this, here, this heart will become as hard as stone. I am afraid of what I will become. You hold my heart in your hand."
"He turns from her, chewing on that wafer. It is his last lesson to Joan: how you should approach life when its fists are pummeling you. Head up. Shoulders back. Your heart may be breaking, but you don't let it show, not on your face or in your eyes. You walk with a spring in your step toward a destination yet unknown. And your next warm meal may be hours or days away, your next bed in an inn or in a wet ditch, but in your mouth is the taste of cinnamon. The past is the past, and the dead, buried in their shrouds, must always be left behind."
"She thinks, I have become more than just myself. I am here, in this cage. But I have another body, which is unseen. I am the battle cry, the roar of spears, pikes, and poleaxes rattling. I am the sound of a hundred horses thundering down a hill and the wind that ripples through banners, the swing of a catapult, the deafening blast and explosion of cannonry. Every soldier, young and old, who goes to war shall think of me and carry me in his soul. A hundred years from now, the sound of name will still make the English shake, though my own people will look upon me tenderly, with pride and with love. Before each battle, the foot soldiers, artillerymen, and sappers will bend their heads and call my name. They will say, Joan, give me strength and courage, and I shall hear them, wherever I am. I can never die. Here is God, in the sky and the rosy mist, ready to strike a bargain. In the roar of the waves she hears the cheers of the people — her people. She hears her sister's laughter and knows it comes from Paradise. God is listening. Into His ear, she prays. That is, she tells him: I, Joan, will return. All prayers are wishes, but this is not a wish. It is a promise."
Content Warnings
Graphic: Animal cruelty, Animal death, Child death, Grief, Suicide, Domestic abuse, Physical abuse, Rape, Sexual violence, War, and Death
Moderate: Confinement, Mental illness, Sexism, Religious bigotry, and Classism
Graphic scene of an animal tortured/killed, unwanted pregnancy via sexual assault
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