(Penguin, 2011, 544 pages, ISBN 9780141043739)
It’s the summer of 1636, and the bloody Thirty Years War
spills into Picardy as the Spanish armies begin their
latest campaign against France.
In their path lies the village of Dax-en-roi,
whose Seigneur, the Chevalier de Roland, makes a valiant stand against the
invaders, but to no avail. Only one person escapes the destruction of the de
Roland home. Twelve-year-old André
de Roland refuses to leave his parents
unavenged and his people subject to a brutal occupation. He is only a boy, and
many question what he can do. But André is driven by a sense of justice
stronger than doubt. He will defend his honour and his people – to the end.
This is the first novel featuring André
de Roland. Somewhat unusually, the story excludes
his point of view almost entirely and comprises instead of multiple first
person narratives by those close to him. I knew about this before I read the
novel and was intrigued to see how well it worked; the answer is, very
effectively. We’re made aware at the start that these narratives are part of a
series of accounts collected in 1669 by the Abbé
Fleuriot, who is composing the history of
André’s life. Because of this the heading of each section with the narrator’s
name never felt intrusive, as it has in some novels I’ve read. Although these
headings are useful, it’s almost always possible to tell who’s speaking without
them – I’ve remarked before on the author’s skill at creating distinct
narrative voices, and that skill, that ability to draw out numerous different
strands of register, is apparent again here. The novel has something of a
British flavour despite being set in France,
but that never bothered me, and the characters themselves are universal in
their appeal. Each and every one of them feels real, not least André, even
though we only ever see him through others’ eyes. This is one of the great
strengths of the multiple first person narratives, in fact: we get to see both
André and his companions from many viewpoints, viewpoints that don’t always agree;
and that goes toward creating complex, rounded characters whose relationships
to each other aren’t always what they seem, even to the narrators themselves. A.L.
Berridge is very good at showing the sense
of loyalty and the deep friendships that form within a tight-knit group under
threat. And it was refreshing to be reminded that good and bad existed on both
sides.
The book rattles along at a fine pace as André and his friends nag away at
the Spanish armies, meaning it’s difficult to put down. The choice of
narrators at any particular moment added a great deal of tension, since not
everyone is in the know about what’s going on, and as with the
characterisation, the changing narratives allow different perspectives on
events that throw them into relief and give greater depth to the plot. Although about war, this isn't a grim book, and the action, lightness of touch in the narration, and frequent surfacing of humour means it's a lively read.
I didn’t really know anything much about the Thirty Years
War before I started this novel, but I finished it with a much greater
awareness of the people, places and events involved. These are woven well into
the fabric of the story, often without explanation since the characters, of
course, are familiar with them; but the accounts given to the Abbé are framed
by notes and observations by their ‘translator’, Edward Morton, which allows
everything to be set in context and explained with ease. I had to go and look
up some of the terminology regarding weapons and warfare – in particular
fencing, for which A.L Berridge’s
passion is evident – but this didn’t disrupt my reading, and the author
helpfully provides a lot of background information on her website. A map at the
front of the book shows Dax-en-roi and the surrounding area.
Powerful story of friendship and honour set during the
Thirty Years War.
