This book had so much
going for it. The author is a really good writer. He exhibits a few flaws when
writing an historical fiction of this style, but at the heart he is really good at the art
of writing none the less.
Naturally, when you
start talking about flaws and faults, you have to attach an aside to
that to make it clear that by flaw or fault I mean only in my
personal opinion. I would never presume that something I think is a
flaw would be a flaw to anybody else. My issues with the book are
mine alone and may not be shared by others.
Now, having kicked off
with a negative, something I am generally loathe to do, let me speak
now of these flaws and faults..
Meadowland had a
fantastic start, as so many books do. Only it was not the actual
writing that massacred that terrific start, it was the style of story
it became.
It begins with a young
Greek scholar. Stethatus who ..well..let him tell you himself,
straight from the pages of Meadowland;
My name is John
Stethatus. I was born in the year of Our lord 990. I live in the
great city of Constantinople and serve his Imperial Majesty
Constantine X, Emperor of the Romans, in the capacity of clerk to the
exchequer; which means, in practice, that my world consists of a few
streets, a small office, a chair and a table.
I was born in the
City, have been outside it only four times, and never wish to leave
it again.
And there we have him,
John Stethatus. Clerk to the Exchequer, who in the year 1036 is given
the burdensome task of carrying the payroll to the troops in Sicily
under the protection of a handful of men from the
Varangian Guard
(sword for hire warriors of Scandinavian descent).
Sounds like the kind of
story you like? Thinking that doesn't sound so bad? And so it
doesn't. I thought so to. That part of the story was a real blast.
The author writes it with humour and cleverness and I thought I'd
stumbled upon an under rated treasure.
With the combination of
two of my favourite things, Scandinavian warriors and adventure
journey, and liberally anointed with some smart humour, I found
myself wondering...Where had you been all my life, Meadowland?
Then, just when I
thought it was safe to go back into the water, it turned me on my
head and dumped me into a completely different tale. The journey
story of John Stethatus and his Varangian offsiders changed into a
storyteller tale, where the Northern men sat about a fire and told
John Stethatus the story of how - together with
Leif Erikson - they
discovered America.
It was not the tale of
these men discovering America that I found flawed - after all, the
subtitle of the book is
A Novel of the Viking discovery of America -
it was the fact that stories within stories is one of my least
favourite book styles, especially when done in this way. If someone
is going to do it, then they should do it in the first person
narration style of, for example, Bernard Cornwell's
Saxon series,
Christian Cameron's
Ill-Made Knight. A narration that has the main
character retelling the story of their life from the beginning.
Meadowland was not like
that. You spend the first chapters getting to know the Greek clerk
and his Scandinavian guards. You enjoy their humour, their
camaraderie. You find yourself excited for their journey and wonder
(at least I did) on how they will get so off track from their mission
to Sicily, that they will end up pushing ashore in the wilds of
America.
But they don't get off
track. What they do is get off their cart and sit by a fire and then
tell the story in a broken up, disjointed manner instead.
I was bitterly
disappointed. BITTERLY!
As a novel, it was not
bad. It lost my interest when it changed styles and I struggled to
read it after a while, but over all it was not bad.
The writing does get
modern from time to time and I was uncomfortable with that, as I always am when it comes to historical fiction. Felt the
author was sometimes deliberately just writing in his own language because he did
not always desire to write in a neutral way. But the humour
kept me in there. Sometimes so subtle that if you aren't
concentrating you will miss it, it was this author's greatest asset.
For example. Page 83:
“No, that's fine,”
Eyvind said. “I could do with a breath of air.” he sighed, then
turned back to me. “One thing,” he said. “You may've noticed,
we Northerners like to give each other nicknames. Mostly it's because
we're an unimaginative bunch when it comes to our regular names. We
haven't got many to choose from, and most of the ones we've got
begin with Thor-. When four of your neighbours are called Thorstein
and the fifth is Thorgils and the sixth is Thorbjorn, it's a damn
sight easier to say Red or Fats of Flatnose. Well, that was the
occasion on which I got my nickname, and I've been Bare-arsed Eyvind
ever since. I just thought I'd mention it,” he added, “in case
one of the others uses it, and you're wondering who they're talking
about.”
Then he ducked his
head under the low doorway and went out.
It is hard to inject
genuine and subtle humour into one's writing and Thomas Holt does it
with great success. I see he writes dark comedy novels under the name
Tom Holt. I can see him doing that and I expect they would be funny
stories if this book is anything to go on.
I would try this author
again. No shadow of a doubt. While his storytelling style was no
favourite of mine, his writing did quite charm me.
- MM
