“How strange, she thinks. Belief has grown upon her. Perhaps, she thinks, it is something like a mold.” — Matrix
Brief Description:
After being banished from the royal court, seventeen-year-old Marie de France is sentenced to life as the new prioress at a crumbling abbey in the English countryside, where the nuns are starving, sick, and leaderless. With Marie in power, the hushed reality of nuns and women alike is revealed — their ambition for power, thirst for war, and overt sexuality.
Good to Know:
Setting: somewhere in the English countryside in the 12th century
Genre: Historical Fiction
Page Count: 272
Mixed feelings.
I have mixed feelings about this book. On one hand, Lauren Groff sets out to do something daring, to create something spiky and unorthodox, and that’s something I will always respect (regardless if I agree with it or not). For example, this novel has no dialogue — not in the traditional sense. It sounds jarring, but Groff maneuvers it with impressive finesse. While it wasn’t my favorite technique, I admire the hell out of it. Writers who disrupt, overturn, subvert, and take risks are near and dear to my heart.
With that being said, this book grated on my nerves with unspeakable force. The ethics and ideologies of it run so against the grain of my own worldview that sparks were flying from the friction. But I’m a firm believer in intentionally engaging with this friction. It’s thought-provoking; eye-opening; imagination-sparking. This very friction is why I sit here now, writing to you (curled up in a high-back chair, hands flying across the keyboard, forgotten to-go cup of coffee growing cold on the table beside me). Perhaps this is my next essay: "On Friction.”
I digress. Let’s get into the book.
Marie de France was a poet and noblewoman in the 12-century, but very little is known about her life. Eleanor of Aquitaine was a 12th century duchess who became the Queen of France and England. Groff takes on the challenge of spinning their stories together like cobwebs. Their love story teeters on the edge of the plot, but is never fully fleshed out. From the outside looking in, the plot of Matrix threatens to bore us into putting the book down (depressed nuns, depilated abbeys, dismal English countryside…) but Groff pulls us through the story with lovely pacing and a sneaky amount of suspense. NPR’s Morning Edition says Groff “writes like her hands are on fire.” What a beautifully true testament to Groff’s writing. She pulls you into the breath of a moment so vividly you feel the heat pulsating from the crackling fire, feel the cold of the abbey’s stone floors scraping against your bare feet.
Groff’s writing and storytelling ability aren’t up for debate — it’s the actual premise of the book I disliked.
I love feminist fiction, but this novel leans far too strongly towards “we hate men” vibes for me. Not to mention we see commonly despised patriarchal themes reflected among the nuns themselves. There’s a scene where forty-year-old Marie sees an eighteen-year-old girl naked, and she’s filled with lustful thoughts. Because she’s a woman, it’s “beautiful”…but if Marie was a man? We’d be in uproar. I find this double standard frustrating (on both sides).
But I really couldn’t stand this book because it was downright blasphemous.
Blessed with visions from “the Virgin,” Marie appears humble and lowly, seeming to transcend her own morality, while she’s internally consumed by her own selfish ambitions for power and sex. The novel is saturated in pray and religion, but the core of it is hopeless and bleak. When the nuns of the abbey turn from worshipping God to worshipping Marie, I believe Groff’s objective is to portray the plastic nature of religion. While I appreciate this deeper sentiment, it’s more dangerous than just a radial overhaul of religious practices. Our greatest mistake is to define God in juxtaposition to who we are (reality is quite the opposite). This book is not about God at all; rather, a nun’s inability to accept God for who He is, and her quest to transform Him into something better suited for herself. Not a Trinity, but “singular” and “stem.” Not a man, but the Virgin Mary. Not a divine being, but an extension of her own femininity.
For me, this means friction. Lots of it.
Even still, Groff is an entrancing writer. And I will forever give credit where credit is due.
To read…
if you like period pieces
if you gravitate towards themes of feminism, LGBTQ, and spirituality
prose > plot
or not to read…?
if you avoid the above literary themes
if you dislike friction ;)
But as always, remember the good rule of thumb in life and literature…don’t be afraid to try new things. And here, fellow reader, is where we part ways.
Happy Reading!
Like this book review? Share it with someone curious about nuns, queens, poets, and friction. See you in next week’s edition of The G Word.
G