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A brilliant, lush, sweeping historical novel about the rise of the most powerful woman of the Middle Ages: Hild In seventh-century Britain, small kingdoms are merging, frequently and violently. A new religion is coming ashore; the old gods are struggling, their priests worrying. Hild is the king's youngest niece, and she has a glimmering mind and a natural, noble authority. She will become a fascinating woman and one of the pivotal figures of the Middle Ages: Saint Hilda of Whitby. But now she has only the powerful curiosity of a bright child, a will of adamant, and a way of seeing the world--of studying nature, of matching cause with effect, of observing her surroundings closely and predicting what will happen next--that can seem uncanny, even supernatural, to those around her. Her uncle, Edwin of Northumbria, plots to become overking of the Angles, ruthlessly using every tool at his disposal: blood, bribery, belief. Hild establishes a place for herself at his side as the king's seer. And she is indispensable--unless she should ever lead the king astray. The stakes are life and death: for Hild, for her family, for her loved ones, and for the increasing numbers who seek the protection of the strange girl who can read the world and see the future. Hild is a young woman at the heart of the violence, subtlety, and mysticism of the early Middle Ages--all of it brilliantly and accurately evoked by Nicola Griffith's luminous prose. Working from what little historical record is extant, Griffith has brought a beautiful, brutal world to vivid, absorbing life.… (more)
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Hild is a real figure, but we don't know much about her life so most of this story is extrapolated from a few pages of biography and what the lives of most women of the time would have been like -- extremely convincingly, though I'd be curious to hear what an expert on the time period would have to say about it! The culture of Hild's people is foreign to a modern reader, but from within her mind it makes sense. She is a modern heroine without departing from what would have been accepted in her time (granted, in her time she was probably seen as an unusual figure).
Many reviewers have recommended this to fantasy readers; I would recommend it to the widest possible historical fiction readership, but there's no magic and no supernatural creatures, so if you read fantasy for the sensawunda you might not get into this book. On the other hand, if you read it for the kinds of political intrigue that people got up to before there were guns and computers -- you'd probably like Hild.
This is my first encounter with Nicola Griffith's work. She did a lot of research for this novel and though her period titles and vocab aren't as in depth as they could be, I can't fault the effort behind the work at all. I think she brings a wealth of information to us about a world that is oft romanticised past all endurance by pop culture and I thoroughly enjoy any work that can lead me down the rabbit hole of research and further reading.
My issue was the drudgery that surfaced during the more arid parts of the novel. Parts that created a disappointing disconnect with the world I wanted to sink down into with Hild, Cian, Breguswith, Edwin, Begu, and like company. I don't want to be told about some campaign- I want to see it, feel it being fleshed out about me. For the larger part of the novel Griffith accomplished this beautifully. Hild's awareness of self and the world around her are the gilding of the book, a satisfyingly quenching drink for the reader. And though an arid part or two is often the risk of any fiction that's based in fact, it made those moments all the more disappointing because you can clearly see Griffith's skill concerning personal point of view. Because of that skill, I found myself wanting Griffith to escape the weight of history and lean more into her characters.
That being said, I did find it easier to get into the book later on once my focus became the characters and the burden of like-named individuals and the flip-flop-flipping and often overly detailed political aspirations became secondary. There's these rich moments we have with Hild that are just wonderfully wrought from both an emotional and mental perspective. The gravity of her situation and surroundings, the weight of her emotions and unfolding path or wyrd, the relationships from the familial to the friendly to the sexual - from sworn loyalty to infinite leagues of emotional fealty -, the encompassment of Christianity taking it's root and the priests that dug the holes, the suspense of a wrong move, and a burgeoning sense of personal "right" and "wrong" all combine into a poignant view of a life well told.
I certainly applaud Griffith's work and would recommend it to historical fiction lovers. Along with Griffith's handy glossary for when things get dicey and you want to take a seax to everyone with names that begin with C.
I was reluctant to pick this up, but am a fervent convert. Hild is such a wonderfully engaging character -- almost a sherlock holmes of the dark ages, only more focused on reading the tides of the world than the private histories of individuals. And Nicola Griffith does a fantastic job
It appeals to me as a recreationist, sure, but even more as a person interested in sustainable living. It bring the social history of britain to life, but also the natural history, though Hild's intense observations of land and animal behavior. It's weird, I tell you, how many aspects of my varied interests that this book rings like a bell. An awesome read, and one I did not want to finish.
Hild the child that would become Saint Hilda of Whitby. Griffith's novel illuminates the person Hild might have been in her earliest years. The known is cleverly interwoven into the storyline. Hild's father, Prince Hereric, was nephew to King Edwin
Hild's wryd (personal destiny) is her path. She is 'Light of the World'. She carries a seax, a type of dagger, and she stands tall.
Her sister Herewith's wryd is different. She will be a queen.
I found it hard to resolve the description of Hild in her very young years. She is marked as special from birth. A child heavy with her future wrapped around her. Even as young as three, Hild's clarity of thought and perception is prodigious, and later as still a child not yet come into her womanhood, her wisdom is more like that of a mature woman. After all wisdom is what Hilda of Whitby will become renowned for, along with having contributed in the christianizing of Britain.
In this fictional account of Hild's life, just as the Irish priest Fursey did, I found it sad that Hild was never allowed to be a maid, young and carefree. Her feet are set on her path from birth, thrust there by her wryd and kept there by her mother, Breguswith.
Seer to a King, a prophet, Hild learns early to watch and understand many aspects of her world, be it nature, animals, the wind, the season for plants, the stars, the flow of the rivers. She studied behaviour, carefully watching people and identifying their tell-tail tags, gaging their interactions and reactions. Hild studies the languages of the various peoples of her land, including the roman priests. She learns to read and values the gift of communication it is. This all helps in her reaching to understand portents and possibilities.
Everywhere is the struggle for power by kings and their priests. The struggle for kingdoms, lost and gained, and of the old gods destroyed and a new god rising. Hild is ever concerned with wars and the business of kingdoms, their waxing and waning.
And always there is the mystery of her childhood companion Cian. Cian who is always more.
The difficult path she weaves between the various courtly interests, waring princes and her mother's intrigue is fascinating. Life at this time, especially for women, is relayed so realistically you feel like you are there. The role of women is clearly defined, yet as the King's seer Hild rides beyond that place. Later she becomes the King's Fist, at great emotional cost. And for Hild there is the waxing and waning as times change, and old enemies become new, old threats are revisited. Her search for her true self is painful. For Hild 'there were patterns everywhere.'
'Tumult in the river mouth', Hild sang to herself when but a child. Words that were a promise of the path her wryd will take her down.
The more I read, the more I was drawn in.
A NetGalley ARC
I’ve read everything by Nicola Griffith, so I’ve been looking forward to this release with quite a lot of anticipation. I have to say, the book isn’t really what I expected. However, neither was it disappointing – not even close!
While Griffith’s previous work has
It’s a very ‘full’ narrative – as one person I was chatting with said; it’s rare to see such a ‘complete’ portrait of a woman. There’s a lot here – the book discusses religion, relationships, ethics, and shows people as they are, rejoicing and grieving, self-serving and self-sacrificing.
Reading the novel is an impressively immersive experience. Seventh-century Britain, here, comes to utterly convincing life. It’s clear that plenty of research went into the details of daily life, and, the characters living this life are complex, well-rounded, and believable. Always utterly human, while they are portrayed with all their flaws, you’ll miss them when the book eventually comes to a close.
However, Griffith is currently working on a sequel – so you won’t have to miss them forever. (I was glad to hear it, because I was particularly looking forward to seeing a portrayal of Whitby – St. Hilda was the founding abbess there, and I’ve visited quite a few times – but in this volume, her character hasn’t arrived there yet.)
Hild, who is fictionally imagined here, is known to historians as Hilda of Whitby. The Venerable Bede in his 8th century history of England noted that as a child and youth, Hilda was an adviser to the king her cousin or great uncle. Bede was clearly impressed at the life of the woman and Nicola Griffith looks at the possibilities of Hild’s life from that of a child growing to about 22 through the nearly 600 page book which snakes around Edwin’s growth of kingship looping in other kingdoms to become Over King. The novel ends just before Edwin’s kingdom and his life ends in battles with a confederation of Welsh and Britons.
Later, in known history as Hilda prioress of Whitby Abbey, Hild was a major player in issues of Church and state and played a pivotal role in aligning Catholicism in England to Rome rather than to Ireland, which had Greek leanings.
It is probable that Hild was a precocious, prescient and unusually intelligent child. With her as the central player Nicola Grrifith explores the rhythms of life, the values, customs and beliefs of a part of England that she herself grew up in in the 20th century. The writer pairs two characters through the book, Hild principally, and also the boy Cian her childhood companion with whom Hild confides and comes to know the world as they grow. Cian is a fictionalised character and a very useful device for the writer given his guessed at birth father and his empathetic knowledge of Hild. We understand Hild not as some mythic witch and seer to the king, as the people about see her, and accept her as an intelligent person who has learnt to observe and read the natural world and the political ambitions of its people.
A great amount of the novel is to do with the life and work of the women of the household of the king and, from time to time, the women of the house holds of lords and lesser men and down to the huts and hovels of the peasants and poor. As well as divining the patterns of nature it seems that Hild is adept at setting the patters to be woven in the cloth making rooms. Women weaving is a major task in this world and it is this that leads into Griffith’s major metaphor in her own woven story. The deftness of the weft (wic) in daily weaving ensuring the smoothing lines of weft is as daily live in the domain. However, of greater importance underlying all this is the warp of the fabric; the lines of long thread in the weave, their strength and necessity of the weights at the end of each warp line.
This warp and the weights holding the line true are akin to the holding the line of belief in the fabric of life in this spot in 7th England. These are changing in this part of the world in history. As always and anywhere, the bulk of the people adhere within a social order to the extent of shared values and beliefs and most people accept a belief without exploring the myth or principle behind it. In this novel the principle of ‘belief’ is somewhat explored. The weights of the warp lines are going awry. There are a whole lot of gods floating about in the people’s minds – Woden principally – that determine the order of the way of life and the natural world. That order is being challenged; being undermined even. In a political power aligned marriage Edwin brings in a Roman Bishop and a bunch of evangelisers and through the novel we are part of the swirl as the power elite of the old ways are replaced by the problem elites of the Italian Christ god world – while always the rhythms of the natural world and human husbandry of it keep going on.
We see the issue of ‘belief’, and the use of swaying people’s minds and loyalty, become a matter of the use of power, force and fear. There are Irish priest people too in the undergrowth and, as a child, Hild is blown away recognising the use and benefit of writing and an Irish priest is engaged to teach her writing but not about his Christ god. But the Roman Christ priests see the Irish Christ priests as spies to be expelled so what is believed in by the priests becomes less important than the male persons holding the influence of political and temporal power.
The writer has researched her history and the way of life – the rhythms – of that period and rather than Hild being a magician seer, it is more that she notices things and can ‘read’ the natural world. The novel is great. The language used and its rhythms are akin to the world Hild lived in. it is quite poetic. It is not so much a page turner, not that it was hard to put down but it was always a pleasure to pick up.
St. Hild of Whitby is known as the founding abbess of the monastery at Whitby and renowned in converting England to Christianity. What is known about her life, particularly the time before she came to Whitby is relatively little. The sparsity of information provides a canvas for Nicola Griffith to flesh out. Hild is a compelling character with her roots in pagan faith. Her mother, a schemer and plotter (and, most of all, a survivor) helps her find a place at the King's court as his seer and throughout her life she uses her powers of observation, her friendships, her instincts and her ability to read and write to see the patterns of coming events.
This is a book about women in the seventh century and how they moved within the confines of the male-dominated power structure of the time. The constant in-fighting between small kings; the threats of disease, famine, drought, and childbirth; the vagaries of war - all of these elements are in Hild as are the basics of daily life - churning butter, making cheese and bread and other foods, brewing potions, gathering herbs, farming, weaving, fishing - you name it. Nicola Griffith creates the world of seventh century Britain, populated with characters you can care about, and walks with you hand-in-hand through the tale.
I loved everything about this book. Its characterization, its story, its language - all of these combined to create a reading experience I mourned when it was over. Fair warning - Hild is full of terms and places you probably aren't familiar with, but even without quick access to a glossary you can parse out the meaning of terms within the context of what's written and that's part of the book's charm. Is there anything better than being plopped down into an unfamiliar landscape and discover its subtleties as you go? I loved this book - one of the best things I've read all year.
Extended review:
Beautifully realized fiction of life and war in Britain's early Middle Ages, as seen through the eyes of the child Hild as she matures into a powerful, far-seeing young woman in the court of her uncle King Edwin of
Nature, nurture, and self-discipline shape her subtle mind as observer and interpreter of both natural phenomena and human behavior, weaving them into patterns that reveal hidden connections and future directions. As the king's seer she must counsel and advise while protecting her own interests and those of her loved ones. Alone among the women of the court, she bears weapons of battle and serves the king in both armed and diplomatic conflict among petty rivals for control of all Britain.
This novel falls short of top marks for me largely because of the pacing, which made the scope and complexity difficult to follow. I came close to letting it go after a hundred pages, mainly because I was feeling impatient while waiting for it to grab me. It seemed to be setting the stage for a very long time, setting an enormous stage with so many characters and so much backdrop that I couldn't track it all. In time it was the character of Hild who held my interest; but I gave up on trying to remember who all those were that surrounded her and guess which ones I'd want to hold in mind for future reference. Sometimes the intervals between mentions of a character who was going to turn out to be important were so long that I didn't realize I'd ever met him or her before, and the author didn't remind me. The ease of confusing similar-looking names added a level of challenge to this aspect.
The author's not to blame for the language patterns and naming customs manifested in historical seventh-century personal and place names, but I'd have found a reference list or index extremely helpful. I shouldn't have to leaf back through hundreds of pages to locate the first mention of a character's name and get a reminder of who the person is. From one day to the next I had difficulty remembering the roles and relationships of many of the characters.
I also wished that Griffith would remind us from time to time of Hild's age. I lost track sometime around the age of twelve and really had no idea of how old she was by the end. Fifteen? Thirty? I had no markers to go by.
The references that were provided were indispensable. I turned to the family tree, the map of old Britain, and the glossary many times in the course of each sitting. However, they were insufficient. Many more unfamiliar terms (for instance, "torc") appeared than were glossed in the back or explained in text. Place names (for example, "Less Britain," which does not appear on the map) occurred without prior mention, treated as significant but not explained. Epithets such as "Twister" cropped up suddenly, as if they'd been part of the author's character notes all along but she'd forgotten to mention them.
In fact, I had the feeling repeatedly that Griffith was in possession of such an overwhelming mass of material, some of it factual and very much of it invented, that it often threatened to swamp the story. At times I did feel swamped.
Yet when we came down to the last fifty pages, all of a sudden it seemed extremely rushed. Seasons and events were dispensed with in a line or two, and the dramatic unfoldings that we'd been building to--political outcomes, results of intrigues and machinations, fateful deaths--either remained in the future or swept past with barely a nod. At that point I also realized that one of the big questions I had hoped to see answered--namely, how did the main character bridge the gap between the old religion and the new Christianity so well as to become Saint Hilda?--was going to be left hanging.
I don't consider that a spoiler because the jacket blurb and promotional reviews tell us that this is the story of a saint-to-be. It seemed reasonable to expect that something in this narrative would point to how that transformation came about, especially since when Christianity invades the lives of these Woden-worshippers young Hild seems none too convinced. But to be fair, the book itself does not make that promise. Perhaps a sequel will unveil that mystery; in a note at the end, the author says she is working on the next part of Hild's story.
Meanwhile, one of the great virtues of the present narrative is the author's rendering of young Hild's sensitivity to the natural world. Griffith's lush and often tender descriptions of landscape and animal life employ evocative language in delicate brushstrokes that are as confident as they are fine. Two examples randomly chosen:
=====(Excerpts begin)
One evening she stood with Cian on the wooden walkway at the highest corner of the stockade and watched the sun setting over the white fields like a winter apple, small and shrunken, staining the snow with its tired juice. The air smelt of iron and brine. (page 317)
Slowly, carefully, like an orphaned foal folding itself down on the straw by a cat and her litter, Hild tucked herself alongside Begu and laid her head on her shoulder. (page 496)
=====(Excerpts end)
The same hand delivers brutal battle scenes and acts of violence without flinching, refusing to turn away just as young Hild refuses, yet without savoring them or forcing gratuitous grue upon us. She even brings freshness to scenes of lovemaking and affords us glimpses of a private mind that feel intimate rather than voyeuristic.
I'll willingly follow Hild's story into another volume. I hope that when it comes the author will supply sufficient cues to bring the dense context of this narrative to mind so that I miss no part of the patterns she so expertly weaves.
There should have been a
And the writing style does bog down in too many thoughts, too many descriptions, too much contemplation. Which may have been its ultimate aim: to bring the reader into the world a millennium before our own, when water was drawn from a well and a march of a day filled the entire day. But the reasons for the ruminations beyond Hild is the Light of the World" were too many times sorely lacking, and that's where my shortening of the stars comes from.
On the other hand . . . the world painted here is one of attachment to the ground, of the movement towards another faith and the ramifications for an older way of life based on Odin, and the many, many needs of staying close to the king and within his favor. I will admit the need to either read this book in larger chunks (it was my before-bedtime book so sometimes I didn't read long passages for several days and I got lost in the details), or to re-read it to fully gain its flavor and its majesty. I thoroughly enjoyed the details of the women's lives, especially the weaving and Hild's mother's (Breguswith's) overseeing of the wool trade near the center of the book. Ms. Griffith has either studied weaving or spinning, or she has great teachers in the art and her inspiration and descriptions of this constant part of life is flawless. Likewise, someone interested in what constitutes a power play beyond Sun Tsu's "Art of War" will see personified instances of his theories. A great book, and Hild's movement towards adulthood is well worth the journey.
Hild was a real person who became known as St. Hilda of Whitby. However, not much is known about her early life so the author has amplified the facts with conjecture. Hild's father was poisoned when she was young. Her mother, Breguswith of Kent, took Hild and her sister, Hereswith, to the court of Edwin, ruler of Northumbria, and also their uncle. Breguswith had called Hild "light of the world" when she was born and Hild was reputed to have supernatural powers. Breguswith intended to become powerful in Edwin's court by using Hild's supposed abilities. Hild's abilities are based upon observation of people and nature and, because her predictions pan out, she is called a seer and a witch.
Hild was brought up with Cian who is the son of her mother's friend, Onnen. Onnen was not married to Cian's father and it was unclear who his father was. However, as Hild and Cian grow up it becomes clear (at least to anyone who looks closely) that they had the same father. They both become indispensable to Edwin but as they get older they travel different paths. There is sexual tension between them but Hild, who has figured out the relationship, never lets it take over. This puzzles Cian and he withdraws to other women.
This was a dangerous time to be alive and Griffith shows us all the ways death can come to people. There are accidents, childbirth, sickness, robbers and war in plenty but there are also times of prosperity for those who survive. They certainly seem to do a lot of drinking when they are at leisure. Mead and wine and ale flow freely. Another leisure activity is intercourse; warriors with slave women, noblewomen with noblemen (not necessarily their spouse), girls with peasant boys, girls with slave women and any other combination you can think of. Of course, when death could be coming at any time who wouldn't want to drink and make love?
Any fan of historical fiction should revel in the detail. And, if you are like me, you will hope there is a sequel in the works.
What I liked best: Hild, as a character. She almost literally comes to life on the pages. When the reader gets to spend time in her head, the book really shines. Many other characters are also fully realized.
What I found lacking: The convoluted familial relations were difficult to follow. There were times when family connections were integral to the plot but, for the most part, there was not enough clear explanation to bring those plot-points into sharp focus. The other issue I had was with the incredible level of detail about the surroundings... the weaving... the milking... the lighting... etc. At first, this really helped to create the world in which Hild lived. Toward the end of the book, it became somewhat redundant and I found myself wishing that Griffith would just stick to the story.
I recommend this book to anyone that enjoys historical fiction and am likely to read the first sequel when it's released.
I struggle with complex plots, and I must admit I got lost in the battles and politics of the time, but I just let it flow by and grabbed onto the things that I could get ahold of when they came up. Fortunately Nicola is planning a follow-up book as there is a lot more to come in Hild's life.
“Keep a quiet mouth and a bright mind” is a lesson that she is given; this is such a powerful line and one that illustrates all that Hild becomes. I love the way the Nicola Griffiths uses the language of a bright three year old to describe the life around her which grows in complexity as she ages. There are so many beautifully written lines that Griffiths enthrals you with: The three year old rejecting the suggestion she might be frightened, with the thought ‘She was three; she had her own shoes’. In the story Hild is a ‘pattern maker’ for the cloth that the women weave, and with the same skill she gives Hild, Griffiths weaves the story and histories in her writing.
I enjoyed reading this book slowly, getting a real sense of how society worked in the 7thC . At first I struggled to read the strange names and words of a language that is so unfamiliar, but this enhances the experience of imagining the 7thC and the book would be poorer without it. The use of unfamiliar words become part of the world unfolding, so that an understanding of their meaning becomes clearer, and with the glossary at the end of the book all is revealed. I think you absorb this story so that it becomes familiar.
I love the way Griffiths paints a picture setting the scene capturing the essence of the land and life of the people. The words paint the feeling of an event so the reader can ‘know inside’ what is happening and being said rather than a simple description. Lines such as - She liked time at the edge of things – the edge of the crowd, the edge of the pool, the edge of the wood – where all must pass but none quite belonged.
This is a story that is told by offering a feeling and an experience of it in your mind; it brings a history to life in a natural way, less like a novel more like sitting and hearing an account of a time long gone.
I got this book through NetGalley.
I learnt what I could of the late sixth and early seventh centuries: ethnography,
Unfortunately, she also took all of her research, every last bit of it, refused to throw away a single index card, and crammed everything into 530-some pages. After a while I simply got tired of reading of meadhall after meadhall, weaving and dyeing, endless battles, and so on in the minutiae of early medieval England.
Further complicating everything were the multiple ethnographies and languages — Anglisc, Brythonic, Irish, and Latin — the problem being not with vocabulary in general but with so many ethnocentric names. The Latin names were fine (Modern English, despite being a Germanic language, is heavily Latinate in vocabulary) but some of the other names were so foreign to a modern English ear that it was difficult telling one from another and even distinguishing genders.
Sadly, not recommended.
Griffith's writing is laden with the words, phrases and nuances of Old English spun in such a way as to detail daily life to the point where the reader's five senses are engaged. She recounts the times through the eyes of Hild, from age three on, in way that strengthens and enriches her characters into complex and often contradictory people we feel we know and understand.
While this is a fictionalized history,it transcends the genre and I found it to be a mixture of history, fantasy and adventure.
I really hope people give this book chance- the language can be a bit tricky in the beginning, but it gets easier as you go along and really- its wonderful.
Hild is a real figure, but we don't know much about her life so most of this story is extrapolated from a few pages of biography and what the lives of most women of the time would have been like -- extremely convincingly, though I'd be curious to hear what an expert on the time period would have to say about it! The culture of Hild's people is foreign to a modern reader, but from within her mind it makes sense. She is a modern heroine without departing from what would have been accepted in her time (granted, in her time she was probably seen as an unusual figure).
Many reviewers have recommended this to fantasy readers; I would recommend it to the widest possible historical fiction readership, but there's no magic and no supernatural creatures, so if you read fantasy for the sensawunda you might not get into this book. On the other hand, if you read it for the kinds of political intrigue that people got up to before there were guns and computers -- you'd probably like Hild.
As much as the dynastic politics revolve around men, this is mostly a book about women. The pace as a general rule is slow and character-driven, as Hild has a natural affinity with nature and an uncanny ability to question, notice and make connections when no one else can, making her appear otherworldly and feared by all, even her own people. There is murder and intrigue on all sides, and very often Hild feels like she is simply a pawn in a game played by adults, with an ambitious mother doing everything in her power to advance Hild’s reputation and position to what she thinks her daughter’s fate is, namely being the light of the world.
In this story the author very much becomes a storyteller, and the pace and occasionally almost lyrical style of writing often evoke the old Anglo-Saxon poems sung by bards in hall, with a captive audience hanging on their every word. A lot of things are left unsaid and one needs to read between the lines; even so, it is not always clear what the author is trying to say, but I’m certain one needs to read this book more than once to understand all the little nuances, hints and allusions. In any case, Nicola Griffith manages to build a lost world in front of our eyes, recreating Anglo-Saxon England in image and speech, custom and faith.
Despite a map of seventh-century Britain and a rough family tree, reading the first chapter you might think you’ve stumbled on a book in a slightly different language, where you only understand a third of what’s going on. That’s why I chose to read the brief author’s note, a note on pronunciation and a reasonably extensive glossary (all contained in the appendix) after the first chapter to try to make more sense of what I’d read, and then read certain passages again in light of the gained knowledge. I would have welcomed a breakdown of the cast of characters as in Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies to keep track of every name, but this is a minor quibble and will not adversely affect your enjoyment of this terrific effort. I will certainly follow Hild as she grows up and can’t wait for the second volume to appear.
(This review was originally written as part of Amazon's Vine programme.)
I can't say enough good about this. I loved it. I appreciate a lot of people might find it hard going - it's a dense, long book with a lot of characters and it uses a lot of the words Hild would have used -but if you're the sort of person who likes long, intricate historical novels about women, you'll adore it.
That said, I don't know how to describe how I feel about it.
It took me forever to read, definitely not a " page-turner" type of novel in my opinion.
But, it did keep me coming back to finish it so I have to say I liked it.
I would recommend it to