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julesjoulesjewels's review against another edition
3.0
You know that Ira Glass speech about the gap between an early creative's good taste and their ability to produce work that is consistent with that taste? That is how this novel felt to me.
Gardiner clearly has incredible taste. The whole time I was reading this novel I was very aware of what it was trying to be, and I'd say it succeeded in being that about 50% of the time. There are moments when Gardiner's sentence-level prose is divine, especially in the "recitative" chapters, and I thought the switches between first- and third-person narration within a chapter structure meant to mimic the structure of an opera was an inspired, if ambitious, idea. And, most importantly, the heart is definitely there: the tragedy of La Maupin's brief, passionate quest to be known and loved as she is and not as she ought to be, her refusal to sacrifice any part of herself to be more palatable, and the loneliness that ultimately came with that refusal -- La Maupin's story is in there, but it only packs a fraction of the punch that it should.
Gardiner's taste outstripped her ability; she clearly has the potential to reach "goddess"-status with a work like this (and who knows, maybe she has reached that potential by now, since this book was published five years ago), but ultimately the heavy-handedness of the "goddess" motif, a general clumsiness with POV outside of the recitatives, and what felt to me like a reticence to really dwell in the more emotional moments of the story without glancing artsily off of them kept it from hitting its mark.
Gardiner clearly has incredible taste. The whole time I was reading this novel I was very aware of what it was trying to be, and I'd say it succeeded in being that about 50% of the time. There are moments when Gardiner's sentence-level prose is divine, especially in the "recitative" chapters, and I thought the switches between first- and third-person narration within a chapter structure meant to mimic the structure of an opera was an inspired, if ambitious, idea. And, most importantly, the heart is definitely there: the tragedy of La Maupin's brief, passionate quest to be known and loved as she is and not as she ought to be, her refusal to sacrifice any part of herself to be more palatable, and the loneliness that ultimately came with that refusal -- La Maupin's story is in there, but it only packs a fraction of the punch that it should.
Gardiner's taste outstripped her ability; she clearly has the potential to reach "goddess"-status with a work like this (and who knows, maybe she has reached that potential by now, since this book was published five years ago), but ultimately the heavy-handedness of the "goddess" motif, a general clumsiness with POV outside of the recitatives, and what felt to me like a reticence to really dwell in the more emotional moments of the story without glancing artsily off of them kept it from hitting its mark.
manaledi's review
3.0
Julie is memorable as a cross-dressing, sword-fighting, opera-singing nun. This book mostly reads as a litany of entertaining exploits.
storiwa's review
2.0
The historical figure this novel is based upon is fascinating so that kept me going through the horrible writing that reminded me of Anne Rice's overblown style.
mel_smith's review against another edition
adventurous
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
mklinkenborg's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
hrjones's review against another edition
4.0
I approached Kelly Gardiner’s novel Goddess with a combination of excitement and dread. It’s hard not to have mixed feelings when someone tackles the story of a real historic figure with whom one is already in love. In my completely biased opinion, anyone who encounters the biography of 17th century swordswoman and opera star Julie d’Aubigny, Mademoiselle de Maupin and does not fall in love has something wrong with them. And any writer who encounters that biography is likely to be struck by two conflicting thoughts: “I must write about her!” and “Nobody would find her believable as a fictional character!”
When I ran across a reference to Gardiner’s novel, my finger hit “buy” so quickly I may have sprained it. But it took me a while to work up the courage to read the book. What angle had Gardiner taken on her protagonist? How had she treated d’Aubigny’s bisexuality? (The most famous fictional treatment of her by Gautier falls solidly in the “sordid decadence” genre.) Would the book focus solely on d’Aubigny’s transgressive gender and sexuality? Or would it provide a deep, rich look at a complex figure? I can’t pretend to an objective opinion, but I will begin by saying that I enjoyed the book very much and my heart was not broken by it.
Goddess clearly aims for the literary fiction genre, as opposed to all the other possible genres the story might inhabit. While the historic setting is solid, it doesn’t feel like the focus of the novel—more like the vehicle. Gardiner enjoys playing games with voice and mode, and fortunately is deft enough at them that the prose doesn’t get in the way of the characters. The chapters alternate between d’Aubigny’s monologue to the priest who has been sent for her deathbed confession (thus eliminating a certain amount of suspense for those not already familiar with her early death) and passages in a third person present tense that fill in the details of her life. This technique sometimes plays at the edges of confusion, particularly when d’Aubigny’s disguises are presented externally through viewpoints that take the disguise at face value. But the alternations in voice always tie us back into the narrative.
I was quite a ways into the story before I could relax about how d’Aubigny’s sexuality would be portrayed. In the initial chapters, her liaisons with men—often based more on pragmatism than desire—are the focus, and her desire for women is depicted either as tragically unfulfilled (in the escapade with her first girlfriend in the convent) or conveyed only through teasing innuendo in her narration to her confessor. But never fear, we get unambiguous (though never sordid) descriptions of her relationships with women, from the Comtesse who taught her how to make love, to the close sisterhood of opera singers, to the Marquise who becomes the great love of her life. Yet the several men who combine the roles of friend and lover are also sympathetically portrayed. My impression is that those who are looking for well-depicted historic bisexual characters will find as much to enjoy as I did.
There is an air of the picaresque novel here—not surprisingly. A biography is hard to fit into the outlines of an over-arching plot, and it’s enough to turn the jumble of episodes from d’Aubigny’s life into a single coherent narrative without trying to find deeper meaning. Gardiner has nudged the story to greater coherence by the fiction (I believe) of combining two characters: the woman she fought three duels over, precipitating her exile to Brussels, and the Marquise de Florensac, her greatest love.
Gardiner has done a masterful job of turning d’Aubigny into a believable, three-dimensional character. One who is flamboyant, unrepentant, and larger than life, but with flaws and motivations that unify the disparate elements of her life. If you—like me—are desperate for a detailed, definitive, scholarly biography of Julie d’Aubigny, this fictional treatment of her life may help you hold on in the mean time.
When I ran across a reference to Gardiner’s novel, my finger hit “buy” so quickly I may have sprained it. But it took me a while to work up the courage to read the book. What angle had Gardiner taken on her protagonist? How had she treated d’Aubigny’s bisexuality? (The most famous fictional treatment of her by Gautier falls solidly in the “sordid decadence” genre.) Would the book focus solely on d’Aubigny’s transgressive gender and sexuality? Or would it provide a deep, rich look at a complex figure? I can’t pretend to an objective opinion, but I will begin by saying that I enjoyed the book very much and my heart was not broken by it.
Goddess clearly aims for the literary fiction genre, as opposed to all the other possible genres the story might inhabit. While the historic setting is solid, it doesn’t feel like the focus of the novel—more like the vehicle. Gardiner enjoys playing games with voice and mode, and fortunately is deft enough at them that the prose doesn’t get in the way of the characters. The chapters alternate between d’Aubigny’s monologue to the priest who has been sent for her deathbed confession (thus eliminating a certain amount of suspense for those not already familiar with her early death) and passages in a third person present tense that fill in the details of her life. This technique sometimes plays at the edges of confusion, particularly when d’Aubigny’s disguises are presented externally through viewpoints that take the disguise at face value. But the alternations in voice always tie us back into the narrative.
I was quite a ways into the story before I could relax about how d’Aubigny’s sexuality would be portrayed. In the initial chapters, her liaisons with men—often based more on pragmatism than desire—are the focus, and her desire for women is depicted either as tragically unfulfilled (in the escapade with her first girlfriend in the convent) or conveyed only through teasing innuendo in her narration to her confessor. But never fear, we get unambiguous (though never sordid) descriptions of her relationships with women, from the Comtesse who taught her how to make love, to the close sisterhood of opera singers, to the Marquise who becomes the great love of her life. Yet the several men who combine the roles of friend and lover are also sympathetically portrayed. My impression is that those who are looking for well-depicted historic bisexual characters will find as much to enjoy as I did.
There is an air of the picaresque novel here—not surprisingly. A biography is hard to fit into the outlines of an over-arching plot, and it’s enough to turn the jumble of episodes from d’Aubigny’s life into a single coherent narrative without trying to find deeper meaning. Gardiner has nudged the story to greater coherence by the fiction (I believe) of combining two characters: the woman she fought three duels over, precipitating her exile to Brussels, and the Marquise de Florensac, her greatest love.
Gardiner has done a masterful job of turning d’Aubigny into a believable, three-dimensional character. One who is flamboyant, unrepentant, and larger than life, but with flaws and motivations that unify the disparate elements of her life. If you—like me—are desperate for a detailed, definitive, scholarly biography of Julie d’Aubigny, this fictional treatment of her life may help you hold on in the mean time.
xarph's review against another edition
4.0
Rock star autobiography of bisexual sword fighting opera singer in pre-revolutionary France. Keith Richards got nothing on La Maupin.
thenerdyarcher's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
paulgtr234's review against another edition
3.0
A fascinating character and a tale told in an interesting fashion, a mix of third person narration and first person death bed confession. The author did a good job of showing the multiple facets of Julie D'Abiny's life. Well written and well paced, this was a good read.