Tag: 17th century

The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye by Briony Cameron

10 Comments

The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye is an unusual novel because it’s based on the ‘true story’ of someone who may or may not have actually existed! One of a very small number of 17th century female pirates, Jacquotte Delahaye is not mentioned in any contemporary sources and appears in writing, possibly for the first time, in the 1940s in stories by Léon Treich, a French fiction writer. However, she has become part of pirate folklore and although her existence hasn’t been proved, it hasn’t been disproved either. In this new novel, Briony Cameron has taken the few ‘facts’ about Jacquotte that have found their way into the legends – such as her place of birth and the colour of her hair (red, leading to the nickname Back from the Dead Red) – and imagined a story around them.

At the beginning of the book, twenty-year-old Jacquotte is living in the town of Yáquimo, Santo Domingo, in 1655. As the daughter of a Frenchman exiled to the Caribbean for treason, all Jacquotte knows about her mother is that she was a free black woman who died after giving birth to her younger brother. When her father is implicated in another treasonous plot, Jacquotte’s world falls apart and she is forced to flee the island. Her life of piracy begins when she is captured by the brutal Captain Blackhand and finds herself an indentured servant aboard his ship, but eventually Jacquotte will become a pirate captain in her own right, with her own ship and crew to command.

There’s also a romantic element to the novel, with Jacquotte falling in love with Teresa, wife of the Governor of Yáquimo, but this was one of my least favourite aspects of the book. They seemed to rush into things very quickly, with no time for the reader to see their feelings for each other developing and I felt that the relationship lacked emotional depth. In fact, apart from Jacquotte herself, I thought all of the characters in the book lacked depth – the good characters were very good and the bad ones were very bad, with little in between. I would describe this as much more of a plot-driven book. Although it takes a while to get started, once Jacquotte is at sea there’s lots of action, with sea battles, fight scenes and all the swashbuckling adventure you would expect from a pirate novel.

Sadly, despite the fascinating protagonist, I wasn’t very impressed with this book. I did enjoy the first section, which describes Jacquotte’s life in Yáquimo and the events that lead to her becoming a pirate, but as I read on I felt I was reading the author’s fantasy of how she would have liked 17th century society to have been, rather than how it actually was. I don’t think many people in the 1650s had such progressive ideas on race, gender and sexuality, however nice it is to imagine that they did! If you’re not too bothered about historical accuracy and just want to read an entertaining story, then you’ll probably enjoy The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye, but it wasn’t really for me. On a more positive note, I liked the descriptions of the various ports Jacquotte and her crew visit as they sail around Hispaniola, Jamaica and Tortuga, which is the closest I’ll get to visiting the Caribbean this summer!

Thanks to Piatkus for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 20/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

This is book 2/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.

A Plague of Serpents by KJ Maitland

9 Comments

This is the fourth and final book in the Daniel Pursglove series by KJ Maitland (who has also published under the name Karen Maitland). Although I’ve done my best to avoid spoilers in this review, I wouldn’t recommend starting with this book anyway; the plots are complex and there are lots of characters to keep track of, so this is a series that should really be read in order, beginning with The Drowned City and moving on to Traitor in the Ice and Rivers of Treason.

This fourth novel, A Plague of Serpents, is set in the spring of 1608. It’s been three years since the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, a failed attempt on the life of King James I of England and VI of Scotland by Catholic conspirators. One of the escaped conspirators, a man known only as Spero Pettingar, remains unidentified and uncaptured, but Daniel Pursglove is still on his trail. The King’s man, Charles FitzAlan, who released Pursglove from Newgate Prison on the condition that he would hunt down Spero Pettingar in return, is growing impatient; the longer Pettingar remains on the loose, the longer the King’s life remains at risk.

In search of answers, Daniel infiltrates a secret group of Catholics known as the Serpents who are plotting another assassination attempt. However, he has also become aware of a second group, the Wyverns, who are planning to use the Serpents as pawns and then seize control of the throne for themselves. To make things even more dangerous for Daniel, there are people within both factions who know too much about him and are prepared to threaten and blackmail him to get what they want.

Unlike the previous three novels, which took us to Bristol, Sussex and Yorkshire respectively, this one is set in London and while floods, frosts and thaws played a big part in those three books, the natural environment is less significant in this one. Instead of extreme weather conditions, this time the public have an outbreak of plague to deal with. I’ve always found the plague an interesting topic to read about, even more so since our own recent pandemic, but it doesn’t actually form a very big part of the book despite the title and prologue which made me think otherwise! Other than that, Maitland does her usual excellent job of creating an immersive and believable 17th century world. Rather than breaking the flow of the story to explain the meanings of terms and phrases, she saves these for a glossary at the end of the book, so if you want to know what a bene-feaker is, what a palterer does or what a cracknel tastes like, you’ll have your chance to find out.

The characters in the novel are a mixture of real and fictional; some, like Robert Cecil, are well known historical figures, but others are more obscure – I was surprised to find that the brothel-keeper Donna Britannica Hollandia really existed! With this being the last in the series, the storylines for the characters who have been with us for several books are wrapped up in one way or another and I was pleased to see that my theory about one particular character was proved correct.

Although I did enjoy A Plague of Serpents, I felt that it, like the earlier books, was far more complicated than it really needed to be. With several different groups of conspirators and others at court working with or against each other for their own purposes, it was difficult at times to remember who was on which side and who knew what. Otherwise, this was a perfect ending to the series and I will be interested to see whether Maitland continues to write historical mysteries/thrillers like these or goes back to the kind of standalone historical novels she wrote earlier in her career.

Thanks to Headline Review for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 17/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

The Book of Secrets by Anna Mazzola

11 Comments

Anna Mazzola’s new novel – her fifth and the fourth that I’ve read – is set in Italy and takes as its inspiration the real life story of a group of women accused of selling poison in 17th century Rome.

It’s 1659 and Stefano Bracchi, a junior magistrate at the Papal Court, has been commissioned by the governor of Rome to investigate some unusual deaths that have taken place in the city. The plague that recently swept through Rome took many lives, but this is something different. These deaths are all men and for some unexplained reason, the bodies haven’t gone through the normal process of decay.

Meanwhile, Anna is trapped in an abusive marriage and searching for a way of escape. Her maid introduces her to a woman who says she can help, but the sort of help she provides is not quite what Anna was expecting! As Stefano begins to close in on the people responsible for the mysterious deaths, Anna finds herself caught in his net, but will he be able to prove that she has done anything wrong?

The Book of Secrets is written from the alternating perspectives of Stefano, Anna and a third character – Girolama, a Sicilian woman with a knowledge of herbs, potions and fortune telling, who is said to possess the ‘book of secrets’ of the title. Because we see the story unfold through all three of these characters, there’s very little mystery involved in the book; we know what Girolama and her friends are doing to help the women of Rome, we know how Anna deals with her violent husband and we know how Stefano’s investigation is progressing. However, what I found interesting about this book was not so much the plot as the characters and the way each of them reacts to the situation in which they find themselves.

Our sympathies are naturally with Anna, a desperate woman who takes the only way out she feels is open to her, while Girolama is a more morally ambiguous character – she has the best intentions and her work does a lot of good, but at the same time she seems largely unconcerned that her actions may occasionally cause harm to innocent people. The Rome of 1659 is a male-dominated society and many of the women in the book are victims of men, but Stefano Bracchi is another nuanced character; as he begins to round up Anna, Girolama and their associates for interrogation at the Tor di Nona prison, he becomes torn between compassion for their suffering and the desire to keep his superiors happy for the sake of his career.

Before starting this book, I knew nothing about Girolama Spana and the case this novel is based on. Although Anna Mazzola hasn’t stuck to the historical facts and has invented or expanded parts of the story, she does explain her choices in her author’s note at the end of the book. The Clockwork Girl is still my favourite of her novels, but this is another fascinating one.

Thanks to Orion for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 12/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

Silence by Shūsaku Endō

27 Comments

Translated by William Johnston

One of my resolutions for 2024 is to read more historical fiction in translation and where better to start than with a book for the Japanese Literature Challenge (hosted by Dolce Bellezza throughout January and February).

First published in Japanese in 1966 and in English in 1969, Shūsaku Endō’s Silence is set in the 17th century and tells the story of a Portuguese Jesuit priest, Sebastian Rodrigues, who travels to Japan to investigate claims that his old mentor, Father Ferreira, has committed apostasy – in other words, renounced his faith. Rodrigues and his friend Francisco Garrpe, another priest, can’t believe that their teacher would do such a thing. Certain that there must be some mistake, the two set out from Lisbon on the long journey to Japan, where they hope to learn what has really happened to Ferreira.

Rodrigues and Garrpe reach Japan in 1639 and quickly discover that the local Christian communities are being persecuted and forced to hide their religion from the authorities. Anyone the officials suspect of being a Christian is told to trample on an image of Christ, known as a fumie, and if they refuse they are imprisoned and tortured by being suspended upside down over a pit. On his arrival in Japan, Rodrigues goes into hiding with the other Christians, carrying out his missionary work and helping them to worship in secret, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he is caught and has his own faith put to the test.

Silence is both beautifully written and beautifully translated. From beginning to end, I was completely immersed in another time and place; there’s no jarringly modern language to pull the reader out of the story and everything feels authentic and real. I was intrigued by Endō’s decision to write the novel from the perspective of Rodrigues (first in the form of letters written by the priest and then in the third person) rather than the Japanese Christians and it was interesting to see how Endō viewed his country, its people and its customs through the eyes of a stranger.

I am not a particularly religious person but you don’t need to be to be able to appreciate this novel. I was very moved by the internal struggles Rodrigues faces as he begins to question why God is remaining silent in the midst of so much torture and persecution and whether renouncing his faith, under certain circumstances, could actually be the right thing to do if it helps alleviate the suffering of others. As you can imagine, it’s quite a bleak story, but I loved it and although it’s only been a few days since I finished it, I don’t think it’s a book I’ll ever forget. I would like to try more of Endō’s work and am pleased to see that some of his other novels are also available in English translations.

I read this book for the Japanese Literature Challenge 17 and the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

Disobedient by Elizabeth Fremantle

15 Comments

Elizabeth Fremantle is an author I always look forward to reading and I have enjoyed all six of her previous novels, including her two historical thrillers published under the name E.C. Fremantle. This seventh novel takes us to 17th century Italy and tells the story of Artemisia Gentileschi, one of the most important and accomplished female painters of her time.

Artemisia grows up in Rome, the daughter of the painter Orazio Gentileschi. Having lost her mother while still a child, Artemisia is raised by her father, spending time in his workshop learning to draw and paint. Orazio is a talented artist, heavily influenced by the more famous Caravaggio, but it quickly becomes obvious even to him that his daughter’s work is better than his own.

In 1611, the painter Agostino Tassi enters Artemisia’s life, first as her tutor and then as her intended husband. However, Tassi’s arrival leads to a terrible experience for Artemisia – something I won’t go into here because I think any reader who has come to this book with little or no knowledge of Artemisia’s life will probably prefer to discover her story for themselves. The second half of the book becomes quite dramatic as the repercussions of this incident become clear, so if you don’t already know all the details in advance, which I didn’t, it’s interesting just to watch it all unfold.

Artemisia is a great subject for historical fiction, being a strong, ambitious, determined woman whose work has left a lasting impact. Although we can’t know her true thoughts and feelings, Fremantle does a good job of getting inside Artemisia’s head and showing us what may have provided the inspiration for some of her paintings, such as Susanna and the Elders and Judith Slaying Holofernes. You’ll probably find yourself wanting to look up the paintings online as you read. As well as Artemisia, there are other characters in the novel who are equally well drawn; I’ve already mentioned Tassi and Artemisia’s father Orazio, but there’s also Zita, who becomes a model and chaperone for Artemisia, and Piero, Orazio’s assistant.

Disobedient covers only the earlier part of Artemisia’s life and the novel ends with a lot of her story still untold, but after reading Fremantle’s author’s note where she explains her personal reasons for wanting to write this book, I can see why she chose this period to focus on and I appreciate the courage it has taken for her to do so. I don’t think it’s my favourite of her novels, simply because some of the other settings and historical figures she has written about have interested me more, but I still enjoyed this book and am pleased to have had the opportunity to add to my knowledge of this fascinating artist.

Thanks to Penguin Random House/Michael Joseph for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 8/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2023

This is book 29/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Witching Tide by Margaret Meyer

13 Comments

I’ve read several novels about English witch trials in the 16th and 17th centuries, most recently The Bewitching by Jill Dawson, and I wondered whether this one – The Witching Tide, Margaret Meyer’s debut novel – would have anything new to offer. I’m pleased to say that although there are some obvious similarities with the other books I’ve read, this book also explores some different elements and ideas so was definitely worth reading.

The novel is set in 1645 in the small coastal village of Cleftwater, East Anglia. Martha Hallybread is a servant in the household of Kit Crozier, whom she nursed as a child. Martha has never married herself, choosing instead to devote her life to Kit and his family, as well as serving as the village midwife and healer. When the witchfinder Master Makepeace arrives in Cleftwater, Martha fears that she could become a target, particularly if anyone discovers her secret ‘poppet’, a wax doll inherited from her mother. However, a twist comes very early in the novel when Martha avoids being rounded up with the other suspected witches – and finds herself one of several women enlisted by the witchfinder as assistants.

Most books focus on the misogyny behind the witch hunts, but The Witching Tide reminds us that there were also women involved in condemning their fellow women. Some of them may have really believed they were cleansing their towns and villages of witchcraft, others probably just thought it was the best way to avoid falling under suspicion themselves; in Martha’s case, she hopes that her position will allow her to bring some comfort to the women awaiting trial and find a way to prove they are innocent.

Another thing that makes Martha an unusual protagonist is the fact that she is mute – and yet this is the aspect of the book I found least successful. Margaret Meyer has said that Martha’s lack of speech is intended to represent the way in which the ‘witches’ were silenced, denied a voice and prevented from defending themselves against their accusers, but although this is a clever idea, I felt that Martha made herself understood too easily, expressing complex ideas and sentences through gestures so that even strangers seemed to know what she meant. I could see what the author was trying to do, but I wasn’t completely convinced.

Martha’s story is fictional, but inspired by the real life East Anglian witch hunts of 1645-47 and the imaginary Cleftwater is loosely based on Aldeburgh, Suffolk, the location of one of the hunts. Knowing that real people experienced the things Martha and her friends went through makes the book even more meaningful.

Thanks to Orion Publishing Group/Phoenix for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 7/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2023

This is book 28/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Ghost Theatre by Mat Osman

19 Comments

The Ghost Theatre, Mat Osman’s second novel, is the story of two young people who meet on the rooftops of Elizabethan London. One of them is Shay, a teenage girl who dresses as a boy and belongs to a community of bird-worshippers. As the novel opens, Shay has released some caged birds from captivity in a shop and is being chased by the angry owner; with the instincts of a bird herself, she flees upwards to the roof and here she has her first encounter with Nonesuch. Taking his name from Henry VIII’s grand palace, Nonesuch claims to be the abducted son of a great lord, forced into performing at the Blackfriars Theatre, dressing as a woman to play leading female roles such as Cleopatra.

As Shay begins to fall in love with Nonesuch, she helps him to create the Ghost Theatre, a troupe of young actors who stage special plays in secret locations all over London. But it is another talent of Shay’s – her ability to tell fortunes – that brings her to the attention of Queen Elizabeth I and leads her into danger.

Mat Osman is the brother of the author and TV presenter Richard Osman and also the bassist in the British rock band Suede. I haven’t read his first novel, The Ruins, and had no idea what to expect from this one, but I can tell you it’s a very unusual book – not purely historical fiction but not quite fantasy either. It’s set in a city we can recognise as the London of the late Elizabethan period – there are outbreaks of plague, attempted rebellions, references to popular Elizabethan sports such as cock-fighting and bear-baiting – but there are also some imagined elements. As far as I know there was no community of Aviscultans living in Birdland and predicting the murmurations of starlings!

I have to be honest and say that this book wasn’t really for me. Perhaps because of the blend of alternate history with real history, it didn’t have the strong period feel I prefer – the dialogue was too modern, for example. I also found it quite difficult to focus on the plot; the imagery and descriptions were lovely but slightly distracting and sometimes I read several pages without really absorbing any of the words. If I had to compare this book to anything, it would be Megan Campisi’s The Sin Eater, another novel set in an alternate Elizabethan world and which I had some similar problems with. Incidentally, there is a sin eater in Osman’s novel too, although only mentioned in passing!

It would seem that Osman’s own love of music has influenced this story, with a lot of emphasis placed on the power of song, performing on stage and entertaining an audience. The novel as a whole is imaginative, creative, dreamlike and completely original. I wish I had been able to enjoy it more, but the right reader will love it.

Thanks to Bloomsbury Publishing for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 16/50 read for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.