the lady coroner

after having read the pillars of the earth once again - and again at high speed for eagerness to learn the end - i was craving for another historical novel. as follett's new book world without end is not out in paperback yet, i let myself be persuaded to try something else. the lady at the bookstore gave me this: mistress of the art of death by ariana franklin. the slightly unelegant title weighed against the advice of the seller and the fact that it was a lady novellist. so i bought it.

a short summary and opinion upfront: it wasn't bad, but nowhere as good as follett. placed in medieval england about a year after the death of thomas becket, which fitted nicely with the pillars, it tells a crime story of a psychopathic childkiller being chased by a female pathologist. with a plot that wouldn't embarass c.s.i. or any profiler show, the setting in the middle ages sometimes seems to be unlucky. i'm not quite able to put the finger on it, all i can say is that in comparison with follett (which is unfair, i know, but right now i can't help it), franklin occasionaly slips out of style. while the pillars has an authentic ring to every sentence, be it comic or tragic, light or grave, mistress sounds awkwardly modern or remiss every now and then.

still, her characters are likeable, and the narration has a good flow to it; there is a convincing love story to the side, and as a whodunnit, it works quite well.

but i am not about literature criticism. and i mention this book not just because it's written by a woman or has a female protagonist - these two facts adding up to an almost-tautology. i do mention this book because it is a strong example for pop-feminist literature. it's easy-reading aiming at a feminine audience, with an obvious intention of giving power to modern emancipation. the whole of that must be fuel to my fire, you think - but i'm not so easily satisfied. alright, i'm sympathetic to the cause. but apart from her stylistic flaws, franklin also writes for a reader maybe less critical than me.

first of all, it's very obvious. she leaves out no occasion to make note of the chauvinism of the times or to make clear the gender-related differences of her protagonists. well, it is supposed to be the middle ages, so the modern perspective towards the depicted habitus is somewhat tilted. or to put it differently, she's hammering home her point.

secondly, i think she's inconsequent. true, she shares with us the discovery of the medical school in salerno where indeed women were allowed among students and teachers, untypical of the times. but at the same time, she relies on the cliché of medieval times that her protagonist cannot move anywhere without her bodygoard for the risk of being raped. i refuse to believe that and will until proven wrong. i just cannot take it for the truth that even in those days, every woman was free game to any man at any time. even then did they have laws, and more: they did have decency. at least, that's what i want to believe; and i wouldn't want to think differently just to have reason for my feminist actionism today (there is enough other reason for that).

thirdly - but i'm willing to relent on this point, because there is such a thing as plot necessity - our protagonist adelia has to go through cinderella-fication. in the beginning, she is a recognized physician who pays no regard to her outer appearance - which of course means she is "ugly" or at least inconspicuous to her male acquaintances. in the short sequences in which we see her through their eyes, we can already predict what is going to happen later on: when they look at her closer they notice that she could be attractive if she put some effort in it. so of course, there is a feast she is invited to, there is a housemaid who helps her and boom, suddenly she is beautiful by such easy means as displaying her hair and dressing in a colourful, figure-defining dress. and within the instant, she is also defined as a woman rather than as a physician. yes, this leads to a romantic development, and yes, that means she is also happier than she was before. the one thing that excuses this foreseeable turn of events is that she refuses to marry her love interest in the end, realizing that she wouldn't be able to work anymore as his wife. instead they indulge in a secret affair that is more likely to last and sustain its happiness.

i admit, on this last point i'm in a kind of dilemma. on the hand i heartily dislike the idea that femininity is so unseperably connected to pleasant appearance, to groomed, preferably long hair and soft fabrics tightly dressed to the body, to caring more for the outsides than the insides of ones own head. or rather, that the term of femininity is so definitely denied to those who are more concerned with anything but their looks. not that i prefer a grubby scientist to a clean bimbo - while i try to stay smart and professionally successful, i do take care to stay slim and apply lotions and potions every now and then - but the automation of this categorization enrages me.

...but that's also a topic for another day, back to the book. the other hand of the dilemma i experience is due to the fact that in the end, she is as well a recognized physician as a woman with a sex-life. which is a good thing, because it counteracts the cliché that a woman can either be men's equal in profession or men's partner outside competition. this is only slightly marred by the imperfection mentioned under "first of all".

with this, you now have the perfect example of how difficult it is for me to simply enjoy a good book.

a more favourable review than mine - and less concerned with the gender-issue - you can read here.