Writing the Renaissance

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2012-01-13T18:55:00.000-08:00

"Si mon ame pouvoit prendre pied, je ne m'essaierois pas, je me resoudrois: elle est toujours en apprentissage et en espreuve."

If my mind could gain a firm footing, I

would not make essays, I would make decisions;

but it is always in apprenticeship and on trial.

Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592), French humanist and writer

Les Essais (1580): III, ii

"Du repentir"

Translated by Donald Frame

Pamphlets, ballads and woodcuts: Social Media and Revolution

2011-12-27T19:09:00.000-08:00

Much has been written in recent months about the role social media has played in fomenting and facilitating the Arab spring, allowing revolutionaries to express their views and coordinate their actions. According to a detailed feature article in the 17 December 2011 issue of The Economist, social media, albeit of a different kind, played an identical, pivotal role in the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century. "How Luther Went Viral" traces the spread of the German ex-monk's ideas through quickly-printed, widely-circulated pamphlets, crude and graphic broadsheets, and re-worded popular songs. Just as modern digital media fan the simmering discontent of those opposed to authoritarian regimes, the sharing of print media in sixteenth-century markets and town squares helped precipitate the Protestant revolution. Today's "[s]ocial media are not unprecedented; rather, they are the continuation of a long tradition." A fascinating and worthwhile read.

Too big for the Christmas stocking...

2011-12-07T22:50:00.001-08:00

This FRANCE TODAY article on gift giving opens with the example of Henri II giving the château of Chenonceau to Diane de Poitiers and François I presenting the fortress and village of Dourdan to Anne de Pisseleu. Modern generosity seems a bit lacking in comparison, wouldn't you say? I know I'd love to find a château under my tree this Christmas!

Review: A MORE PERFECT HEAVEN: How Copernicus Revolutionized the Cosmos by Dava Sobel

2011-12-05T22:01:00.000-08:00

Printing and publishing spurred the revival of learning known as the European Renaissance to such a degree that the Renaissance can, without exaggeration, be called "The Age of the Book." Often lost in this emphasis on The Book as a revolutionary cultural construct, however, are the particular details of the history and genesis of individual books themselves. In A More Perfect Heaven: How Copernicus Revolutionized the Cosmos (Walker & Co., October 2011), Dava Sobel recounts the fascinating story surrounding the publication of Nicolaus Copernicus's De revolutionibus orbium coelestium [On the Revolution of the Heavenly Spheres]. With the charm and erudition that readers have come to expect from this writer of narrative nonfiction, Ms. Sobel (Longitude [1995], Galileo's Daughter [1999]) dramatizes how a "book-that almost-wasn't" changed mankind's understanding of his place in the universe.

Nicolaus Copernicus (1473-1543) was hardly the heroic iconoclast history loves to celebrate. A physician and the busy administrator of a remote diocese of the Catholic Church in Poland, Copernicus devoted himself to astronomy as a private passion. Determined to correct weaknesses in Ptolemy's astronomical system, Copernicus observed, recorded and calculated in solitude, ultimately reaching the astounding conclusion that the sun, not the earth, sits at the center of our universe. Wary of ridicule from theologians and mathematicians alike, he summed up his thesis in a Brief Sketch, which he sent to a few correspondents around 1510. Word spread, and eager scholars pressed for particulars. He set to work compiling a book-length manuscript; years passed as he wrote and refined his calculations. Yet, despite his own confidence in his claims, Copernicus continued to shy from sending his manuscript to a publisher.

It took the arrival of a young German mathematician, Georg Rheticus, to spur Copernicus to action. At great risk to himself (the Catholic diocese of Varmia prohibited Lutherans from entering its territory), Rheticus sought out Copernicus in 1539, lured by rumors of his theory. Rheticus won Copernicus's trust and studied with him for two years. Recognizing the theory's great import, Rheticus wrote up a First Account, which he sent to Danzig to be printed. As the Account was received with much enthusiasm and interest, Rheticus stayed on to help Copernicus reorganize and revise sections of On the Revolutions. He finally convinced the elderly canon to release the manuscript for publication and personally carried the thick stack of pages to Nuremberg, where the noted scientific printer, Petreius, began production in May 1542. Rheticus served as proofreader and sent sections of the book back to Copernicus as they were printed. In November of the same year, Copernicus suffered a stroke that left him incapacitated. Bedridden, he held on until May 1543, when he died with the final pages of the book in hand. Without the encouragement of his unlikely collaborator, Copernicus might have died without ever having submitted his work to the public.

As much as A More Perfect Heaven will delight lovers of narrative nonfiction, it will appeal to readers of historical fiction even more, for its very structure dramatizes the interplay between fact and fiction that informs the latter genre. Following Copernicus's lead, Ms. Sobel challenges the norms of narrative nonfiction by placing a two-act play of her devising, And the Sun Stood Still, at the center of her book. As she explains in the foreword, she surrounds these "imagined scenes" with "a fully documented factual narrative." An engaging recreation of the events spanning Rheticus's arrival in Varmia to Copernicus's death four years later, the play breathes life into personalities sketched in only the broadest terms in the historical record.

Particularly interesting is the apportionment of information between the narrative and dramatic sections of the book. The reader encounters the play after having read six factual chapters and forming impressions of Copernicus and the other characters based on information presented therein. While the play supports these initial impressions, it presents additional information that often qualifies and redirects them. Much of this newer information will be elaborated upon in the factual chapters that follow. However, certain details exist only within the play itself, leading the reader to suspect--although never know for certain--whether these details arose solely from the author's imagination.

For example, in Act I, scene v, Copernicus spins Rheticus

in a "World Machine," a "globe-like nest of intersecting rings, about the size of a manned spacecraft capsule, perched on a pedestal" that recreates the motion of the stars crossing the heavens as the earth rotates on its axis. Did Copernicus actually build such a machine? No reference to it appears in the factual chapters. Whether the machine truly existed is beside the point, however, for within the economy of the play, the ride in the World Machine convinces Rheticus of the validity of the heliocentric theory and allows him to experience its abstract implications in a profoundly physical way. Rheticus's giddy dizziness becomes a potent metaphor for the momentous, intellectually traumatic effect Copernicus's theory has on the conceptual landscape of his time. The scene illustrates how fiction, by appealing to emotion and experience in a visceral way, can portray truth with a force nonfiction often lacks.

A More Perfect Heaven: How Copernicus Revolutionized the Cosmos is a thought-provoking read, satisfying on many levels. The book presents a thorough history of the development and reception of Copernicus's theory, explaining the intricacies of astronomical discourse in an accessible way. It evokes the intellectual milieu of the time with compelling detail as it follows the treatise's arduous path to publication. It experiments with form and the expectations of genre to inspire contemplation of the nature of historical narrative. Above all, the book humanizes a key moment in intellectual history by uncovering the fears, faults and friendship that motivated its principal players.

Learn more about Dava Sobel and her books at her website.

NOT a Copy

2011-11-07T10:47:00.000-08:00

A beautiful painting once thought to be a copy of a work by Raphael is now considered to be an authentic work by the artist. Infrared technology has established that Raphael did indeed paint this small portrait, although it was completed after his death in 1520 by one of his pupils, Giulio Romano. Story here.

***Edited to add: Unfortunately, I misread the date on the newspaper article. This story dates from 2010--no new evidence has been added. I've changed the title so as not to mislead anyone. I apologize for any confusion.

The Art of Pleasing the King

2011-10-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

The Getty Museum in Los Angeles recently acquired a sculpture dating from 1543, commissioned by François I from the artist Francesco Primaticcio. The 22" statue, depicting conjoined heads facing in opposite directions, probably sat atop a pillar and may have been fashioned in homage to François's mistress, Anne d'Heilly. Anne was an ardent admirer of Primaticcio, who became artistic director of Fontainebleau after the death of his rival, Rosso Fiorentino, in 1540.

In my current novel, set in 1539, Anne openly champions Primaticcio (known to the French as "Boulogne") as he competes against Rosso, King François's favored artist. In this scene, Anne exploits Boulogne's envy for her own ends:

Anne was winnowing the gossip her ladies had gathered when Boulogne threw open the door.

“Mille pardons, madame.” The painter's heavily accented words belied the sketchiness of his bow. He displayed his arms, bent upright at the elbows, as the excuse for his tardiness: “It takes time to wash the stuff of my labors from my hands.”

The cleanliness of Boulogne’s hands never failed to amaze her; unlike Maistre Roux, whose extravagant dress only accentuated his paint-rimed nails and unkempt hair, Boulogne was a model of fastidiousness. Slight as a switch and hardly a thumb’s length taller than she, every pleat of his somber tunic neatly tucked into a plain leather belt, the master painter might have passed for a simple clerk, save for the dusky pearl, large as a swallow's egg, that dangled from one ear. With his bulging eyes and reedy voice, Boulogne found himself dismissed by courtiers without consequence, by ladies without longing. But his hands—those slender, fluttering hands that never bore the stain of his toil—attracted Anne like no others. François’s hands ruled a kingdom, but Boulogne’s held time in their thrall.

She shook off an image of the painter's hands on her skin. If she’d ever entertained thoughts of pursuing the experience, François’s thinly veiled threats had banished them. “Don’t let them dry," she warned Boulogne, ”for your reprieve will be short. The King grows impatient with the unfinished state of the pavilion.”

Boulogne flicked his hands in the air, unleashing a plaint that accompanied them to her private chamber. “It is not I, but the Florentine who delays us! I paint the ceiling bice, he tells me it must be smalt. ‘Change those primroses to carnations,’ he orders, ‘the satyrs to centaurs. And the sky, we’re no longer looking north, but south. Those constellations are wrong, wrong, wrong!’ I erase and adjust and cater to his whims while he dines with the king and turns His Majesty against me. Le Roux treats me worse than a lackey, I who trained at the side of the great Giulio Romano in the Palazzo Te!”

Anne’s hands settled on her waist. “Le Roux’s primacy might seem unassailable, yet there is a way to win the king’s favor, if you’re willing to try.”

“And what way is that?” His tirade had displaced a lock of lank hair; he smoothed it back behind his ear. “The royal bedchamber, the baths, these very walls—I’ve surpassed myself with each new task, yet still His Majesty overlooks me.”

“It is simple. You must offer the king something Le Roux cannot.”

He contemplated her, his lips pursed, dark eyes intent. “Something tells me you have discovered what this thing is.”

“Of course,“ she said, her eyes never leaving his. “A portrait. Of me.”

Boulogne snorted. “With all due respect, madame, Maistre Clouet has taken your likeness many times.”

What she envisioned had no comparison to the elder Clouet's staid renderings. She placed a hand on Boulogne's arm. “A portrait of me,” she repeated, and paused to lean in close. “Bathing.”

(copyright Julianne Douglas, 2011)

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-10-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

"For I am not so enamored of my own opinions that I disregard what others may think of them. I am aware that a philosopher's ideas are not subject to the judgment of ordinary persons, because it is his endeavor to seek the truth in all things, to the extent permitted to human reason by God. Yet I hold that completely erroneous views should be shunned."

Nicolas Copernicus (1473-1543), Polish astronomer and mathematician

De revolutionibus orbium coelestium (1543), Preface

Lying for a Noble Cause?

2011-10-04T10:12:00.000-07:00

Interesting article on the reader's relationship with the past in historical fiction and the role fiction plays in getting readers to engage with history. I particularly like de Groot's line, "All history lies to us, but at least historical fiction admits it." Readers of historical fiction accept the subjectivity of history and use their reading experience "to think about the ways in which what we call 'history' works."

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-09-30T09:34:00.000-07:00

A thousand graces diffusing

He passed through the groves in haste,

And merely regarding them

As He passed

He clothed them with His beauty.

St. John of the Cross (1542-91)

Spanish mystic and saint

The Spiritual Canticle (1577), Stanza V

Translated by David Lewis

Hours of Fun for A Dollar Apiece

2011-09-26T00:00:00.000-07:00

Considering that I own shelves of novels I have not yet had time to read, I exhibited great restraint Saturday at our town's library book sale. I bought only four hardbacks, but they are all books that I very much want to read.

THE PASSION OF ARTEMISIA by Susan Vreeland. This book, about a seventeenth-century female painter, has long been on my virtual to-be-read pile, but after hearing Ms. Vreeland speak at this June's Historical Novel Society Conference, it moved to the top. I was so impressed by her impassioned arguments on the role fiction plays in fostering compassion and human connection that I am very eager to read her work and experience her creative vision for myself.

BAUDOLINO by Umberto Eco. My college-age son had to read THE NAME OF THE ROSE for class this past summer, reminding me how much I enjoyed that novel when I read it years ago. Although I once attempted (and failed) to make it through FOUCAULT'S PENDULUM, I thought I'd try Eco again with this novel.

MY NAME IS RED by Orhan Pamuk (winner of the 2006 Nobel Prize for literature). This curious novel is set in sixteenth-century Istanbul and deals with the murder of a court miniaturist selected by the Sultan to illustrate a great book in the European style--a dangerous proposition, given that figurative art can be deemed an affront to Islam. Mixing romance with mystery, fantasy and philosophical discussion and narrated from multiple viewpoints ranging from that of a corpse to the color black, this novel promises to be a challenging and satisfying read.

HUNGER'S BRIDES by Paul Anderson. I was tempted to check this book out from the library once, but its size daunted me--at 1358 pages, it weighs 4 1/2 pounds and is 2 1/2 inches thick! It explores the life of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, a seventeenth-century Mexican nun who wrote plays, poetry and theological arguments before signing a vow of silence in her own blood at the age of forty. Anderson frames the historical portions of the book within a contemporary academic mystery plot. I'm curious to see whether this book, which breaks every taboo for a first novel, lives up to the hype.

I think I did pretty well for a grand sum of $4! Now if I could only purchase the hours to read them... Readers? Have you read any of these books, and if so, what did you think?

THE PRINCESSE OF MONTPENSIER on DVD, Available October 11

2011-09-24T19:30:00.000-07:00

SO EXCITED! Just learned that the movie I've been dying to see, THE PRINCESSE OF MONTPENSIER, is being released on DVD here in the US on October 11. It is available for pre-order at online vendors. Glad I still have some birthday money left... Look for a review by mid-October!

Review: THE FRENCHWOMAN by Jeanne Mackin

2011-09-21T11:50:00.000-07:00

Given historical fiction's recent explosion in popularity, it's hard to keep up with all the new titles publishers turn out each month. However, there are many older novels well worth reading. I'm always thrilled to come across an older book that escaped my attention when it first came out yet has the substance and sparkle to compete with newer titles.

One such book is THE FRENCHWOMAN by Jeanne Mackin. Published by St. Martin's Press in 1989, this novel tells the story of Julienne, a poor seamstress who uses her wits, skills and determination to become one of Marie Antoinette's favorite dressmakers. Foreseeing her own arrest, the Queen entrusts Julienne with a jewel meant to ensure the future of the young Dauphin. Pursued by agents of the various factions seeking to keep the Dauphin from regaining the throne, Julienne flees the blood-soaked streets of Revolutionary Paris for the wilderness of Pennsylvania, where French exiles are building a haven for the queen they hope to save. But until Julienne frees herself of the burden of the secret and surrenders the lost world the flawed diamond represents, love and security continue to elude her.

My reading of Catherine Delors' MISTRESS OF THE REVOLUTION and, more recently, Michelle Moran's MADAME TUSSAUD whetted my appetite for historical fiction set during the French Revolution, and THE FRENCHWOMAN did not disappoint. A parallel with Moran's book made Mackin's all the more interesting: whereas Marie Tussaud collaborates with the famous dressmaker Rose Bertin in clothing her wax figures, Julienne actually works as a seamstress in Bertin's shop. It was interesting to experience Bertin's establishment from both an exterior and interior perspective, as well as compare how the two authors depict the commanding figure of Rose Bertin, the creator of many of Marie Antoinette's most famous gowns. Other characters, such as the Duc d'Orléans (Philippe-Égalité) and Robespierre, figure in both books and invite interesting comparisons on how authors interpret and recreate characters from the historical record.

The fact that Julienne, the illegitimate daughter of a prostitute, transforms herself into a successful business woman who frequents the Queen's chambers at Versailles, gives the author ample opportunity to explore and depict many levels of Parisian society. Mackin's descriptions of each are detailed and convincing. Especially intriguing is the final section of the book, which takes place on the Pennsylvania frontier. I discovered this novel while searching for information on historical Azilum, an actual French settlement built expressly to house the Queen and her children, whom royalists hoped to smuggle out of France, and was pleased with what I found. Mackin does an excellent job of depicting the French aristocrats' determined if somewhat ludicrous attempts to preserve and sustain the glamour and refinements of their previous existence in the rude, snowbound cabins of Pennsylvania, where wolves howled outside the very doors. The author handles the exiles' psychological motivation--their intense devotion to the monarchy and sincere hope of sheltering the Queen and her children, as well as their reluctance to abandon the past--with respect and a sensitivity that makes it thoroughly believable to a twenty-first century reader.

Narrated by Julienne in the first person, THE FRENCHWOMAN presents a good balance of historical detail and psychological density. Chief among Julienne's difficulties are her ability to trust and her incapacity to forge a healthy love relationship when she has so many things to hide. Although at times the jewel as a plot device seems a trifle forced, on a thematic level it adds great richness to the story. Symbolic of many things--a damaged monarchy; adherence to an outmoded way of life; shameful origins and closely-guarded secrets; unattainable dreams--the jewel is the weight that centers the book and draws together the rays of Julienne's past, a past she must cast off if she hopes to revel in the bright, clear light of the future.

I borrowed this book though interlibrary loan, although it appears available for purchase through used book outlets. This is one book that definitely deserves to be reissued. Jeanne Mackin has written other historical novels and currently writes Louisa May Alcott mysteries under the name Anna Maclean. You can learn more about Ms. Mackin and her work at her website.

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-09-02T10:54:00.000-07:00

"Qui craint de souffrir, il souffre déjà de ce qu'il craint."

He who fears suffering already suffers

from what he fears.

Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592), French humanist

Essais III, 13

Link to Interview with Sophie Perinot

2011-09-01T09:16:00.000-07:00

Great interview from writing friend Sophie Perinot, whose debut historical novel THE SISTER QUEENS, about two thirteenth-century Provençal sisters who become the queens of France and England, will be published by New American Library in Spring 2012. This is one book I can't wait to read!

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-08-26T21:54:00.000-07:00

photo

"They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea."

Francis Bacon (1561-1626), English philosopher, statesman, and scientist

The Advancement of Learning (1605), bk II, vii, 5.

"Or je fais fin à mon adieu" (Marot)

2011-08-24T00:33:00.000-07:00

photo: Friedrich Böhringer

This has been a difficult week for me--my oldest son left home for his first year of college a day after my daughter departed for her third. Both attend schools on the other side of the country; as we can only afford to fly them home for semester break, I won't see them in person until Christmas. As I watched my daughter disappear past the security checkpoint at the airport and the taxi whisk my son away to begin this new chapter in his life, I thought my heart would break. Good thing my six-year-old was there to hold the pieces together with one of his crushing hugs.

Goodbyes are always difficult, but at least I know--barring some extraordinary event--my children and I will be reunited in December. In the meantime, we can talk on the phone, text, even see each other via Skype. I have photographs I can look at, videos I can watch. When I think about the numerous means I have to make their absence less absolute, I can't help but wonder at how much harder it must have been to say goodbye centuries ago.

With travel as difficult and as slow as it was in the sixteenth century, journeys stretched past weeks into months and even years. Weather determined the condition of roads and the courses of ships, making an exact date of return impossible to predict. Brigands, accidents, illness, and war threatened to make any absence permanent. Letters, the only means of communication between those separated, took weeks or months to arrive, if they ever did. Portaits were a luxury; most people had to rely solely on memory to recall their loved ones' appearance and expressions.

It is easy to imagine situations for which a goodbye might have been forever. Sons and husbands marched off to battle, where a pike thrust, a cannonball or a bout of dysentery could easily thwart their return. Explorers and merchants embarked in creaking ships on treacherous seas to uncharted lands. Marriage removed daughters to far-off places to bear children, subjecting them to the dangers of childbirth. Today, we have multiple means of instant communication to reach out to loved ones at any given moment; in the past, a cloud of near impenetrable uncertainty engulfed the departing traveler at the horizon.

One can postulate the ways the people of the time coped with this uncertainty. As no one knew any different, perhaps they accepted it with calm resignation as the normal course of life. Many most likely found peace in their faith, entrusting their loved ones to divine protection. Others may have been distracted from their worry by the more pressing concerns of daily life. Some must have fretted, others pined. Imagining their responses--placing myself in the shoes of an emigrant to the New World, for example, who knows she will never again return to the land of her birth--helps me put my own feelings into perspective. Harsh as a present-day separation might seem, it little compares to those of the past.

As my children leave on their separate journeys, I rejoice in their courage and the opportunities that await them in the New Worlds they will inhabit. I, too, have a journey of my own to make, one that leads deep into an imagined world of kings and castles along practical paths of word counts and deadlines. Who knows, I might even find time to update this neglected blog on a more consistent basis! Trusting fate will be kind, I wish my children and myself Godspeed, knowing we will see each other soon and have much to show for our separation. In the meantime, ever grateful for your loyal companionship, I invite you to continue to accompany me on my writerly journey.

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-07-29T20:08:00.000-07:00

"Un homme ne peut bien écrire,

S'il n'est quelque peu bon lisart."

A man cannot write well

Unless he's somewhat of a bookworm.

Clément Marot (1496-1542), French poet and royal secretary

Epistre du coq-à-l'asne (1531)

New Historical Fiction Online Magazine

2011-07-20T08:19:00.000-07:00

Historical Fiction Daily is a new historical fiction magazine that aggregates articles and links of interest for writers and readers of the genre. It is moderated by Richard Lee, founder of the Historical Novel Society. If the first issue is any indication, it's going to be a wonderful daily read!

And It Keeps on Ticking

2011-07-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

Stumbled across an utterly fascinating story of a sixteenth-century wooden automaton of a monk on permanent display at the Smithsonian Institution. Watch the monk walk and kiss his rosary in this video, then read the article by Elizabeth King about the machine's genesis and attribution. "Monkbot" appears to have been built in 1560 by Juanelo Turriano, Emperor Charles V's mechanician. Representing Fray Diego de Alcala, a fifteenth century monk whose cause for sainthood was being promoted at the time, the automaton was commissioned by Charles's son, King Philip II, in thanksgiving for the miraculous healing of his own son Don Carlos from a near fatal head wound. It's amazing to watch the six hundred year old figure move and to read King's account of her attempts to determine its origins. Thanks to the Radiolab blog for running a recent post about this "Clockwork Miracle."

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-07-15T00:22:00.000-07:00

"I set to work to learn dancing and went twice to the school. There I had to pay the master a ducat. Nobody could make me go there again. I would have to pay out all that I have earned, and at the end I still wouldn't know how to dance!"

Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528), German painter

Letter to Willibald Pirckheimer, 1506

Biography of the Biographer

2011-07-07T20:25:00.000-07:00

Loggia dei uffizi

Giorgio Vasari (1511-74) is best known for writing Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors and Architects, a collection of biographical sketches of contemporary artists that is filled with amusing anecdotes about famous Renaissance creators, many of whom he knew personally. Vasari was, however, a painter and architect in his own right who served as court artist to Cosimo I de' Medici. One of Vasari's grandest projects was designing the Uffizi, a building constructed to house Florence's administrative offices and guild headquarters under one roof. The Uffizi now serves as one of Florence's finest art galleries, displaying works by many of the artists Vasari wrote about. In order to commemorate the 500th anniversary of Vasari's birth, the Uffizi is hosting a special exhibition now through October. Vasari, Gli Uffizi e Il Duca highlights Vasari's collaboration with Duke Cosimo in transforming Florence into a modern capital. The Financial Times just ran an interesting article about the exhibition and Vasari's accomplishments. I myself have a special debt to Vasari, for his essay on Rosso Fiorentino sparked several ideas for the novel I am presently working on.

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-06-24T11:17:00.000-07:00

"I have shown your letter to the Demoiselle Marguerite de Lorraine, who, despite her grey habit, has a very vivid remembrance of bygone days. I assure you she acquits herself so well in praying for your prosperity, that if all the other ladies, whose favour you have possessed, did as much, you ought not to regret the past; for their prayers would speedily transport you to Heaven, where, after a long and happy life, she desires to see you."

Marguerite, duchess of Alençon (later Queen of Navarre) to

Baron Anne de Montmorency

Letter, 1523

Review: MADAME TUSSAUD by Michelle Moran

2011-06-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

Oppression versus freedom. Extravagance versus want. Corruption versus altruism. It's easy, and tempting, to view revolution, especially eighteenth century revolution, in terms of these stark dichotomies. For individuals who lived through this tumultuous era, however, things were far from clear-cut. Ideas often clashed with the realities of circumstance; ignoble actions frequently compromised lofty ideals. As political and social thought evolved quickly over the course of days and weeks, individuals who set off on one path might suddenly wake to find themselves in a place they had never intended to be. Fear and uncertainty clouded moral judgment and complicated personal relationships; swept up in the turmoil, people found themselves having to make difficult choices between less than desirable alternatives. What history books now depict as a series of clear oppositions was, for the people of the time, a seething morass of buts, ands, and what ifs.

Marie Grosholtz, the protagonist of Michelle Moran's new novel MADAME TUSSAUD (Crown 2011), straddles the two worlds that collide in the bloody foment of the French revolution. Niece of Philippe Curtius, the Swiss showman who runs a popular wax-model attraction known as the Salon de Cire, Marie lives among laborers and entertainers on the Rue du Temple and listens to the fiery political debates of Marat, Camille Desmoulins, and Robespierre in her uncle's parlor. Yet, Marie is no stranger to the glittering world of the nobility. Engaged as wax tutor to the King's sister, she comes to have intimate knowledge of the muddled King, the extravagant but good-hearted Marie Antoinette and the kind and religious Elisabeth through her biweekly visits to the Princess's palace and the Princess's trusting friendship.

Marie's role as intermediary between the two worlds creates the conflict that makes Moran's novel a gripping, thought-provoking read. Each faction assumes Marie's complete loyalty. The revolutionaries depend on her to create scenes at the museum that not only chronicle the developing revolution but influence public opinion in favor of its radical philosophy. Unaware of Marie's ties to the opposition, Princess Elisabeth confides to her details of the royals' private lives and reactions to the unfolding events and trusts Marie to bring her news from the outside once she is placed under house arrest. Marie finds herself in an uncomfortable and dangerous position as the revolt against the monarchy turns violently ugly. To appear to support the royals in any capacity would place her family and livelihood in extreme danger, yet her growing dissatisfaction with the revolutionaries' tactics and her friendship with the princess cause her to question her complicity with her radical friends in the scenes and figures she creates. Ever the businesswoman, Marie juggles her two roles for as long as she can for the sake of the Salon, but ultimately she must choose between them. Moran masterfully manipulates Marie's inner tension, keeping the reader wondering how events will play out and what type of person Marie will become. To great effect, the author crystallizes the general societal crisis in Marie's personal turmoil, reminding the reader that individual conscience plays a pivotal role in determining the course of history.

In MADAME TUSSAUD, her fourth published novel, Moran moves effortlessly from ancient Egypt and classical Rome to the streets and salons of eighteenth century France. The world she evokes is a convincing one, filled with details of dress and custom and architecture that settle the reader comfortably in the historical milieu. The novel provides a fascinating look at the art of wax modeling, and, even more interesting, the role Curtius's Salon de Cire played in portraying and synthesizing political events for the masses in an era that predated photography and video. Moran does an admirable job of conveying the complicated history of the late eighteenth century in a clear and concise manner. She narrates the story in short chapters, each headed by a date and a contemporary quotation, a strategy that allows her to trim dead time from the narrative and linger as long as necessary on specific hours, days or weeks. However, it is Moran's characterizations that most strongly testify to her consummate skill as a novelist. Readers will long remember the shrewd yet open-minded Marie; her loyal yet practical lover Henri Charles; sheltered, faith-filled Princess Elisabeth; impish, resourceful Yachin; and damaged, power-hungry Robespierre. With her appreciation for ambiguity and ambivalence, Moran manages to humanize figures that, like Marie's wax, have hardened into stereotypes down through the centuries.

I highly recommend MADAME TUSSAUD as one of the best historical novels I have read this year. I'm thrilled Michelle has decided to visit France as a setting for her novels, and hope she will remain there for many books to come. Learn more about Michelle Moran and her novels at michellemoran.com.

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-06-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

"I can't write a book commensurate with Shakespeare, but I can write a book by me."

Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618)

English courtier, explorer and poet

Sixteenth Century Quote of the Week

2011-05-27T09:27:00.000-07:00

"The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark."

Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475-1564), Italian painter and sculptor