Real Rating: 4.5* of five
The Publisher Says: A chilling, mesmerizing novel that combines the best of modern forensic thrillers with the detail and drama of historical fiction. In medieval Cambridge, England, four children have been murdered. The crimes are immediately blamed on the town's Jewish community, taken as evidence that Jews sacrifice Christian children in blasphemous ceremonies. To save them from the rioting mob, the king places the Cambridge Jews under his protection and hides them in a castle fortress. King Henry II is no friend of the Jews-or anyone, really-but he is invested in their fate. Without the taxes received from Jewish merchants, his treasuries would go bankrupt. Hoping scientific investigation will exonerate the Jews, Henry calls on his cousin the King of Sicily-whose subjects include the best medical experts in Europe-and asks for his finest "master of the art of death," an early version of the medical examiner. The Italian doctor chosen for the task is a young prodigy from the University of Salerno. But her name is Adelia-the king has been sent a "mistress" of the art of death. Adelia and her companions-Simon, a Jew, and Mansur, a Moor-travel to England to unravel the mystery of the Cambridge murders, which turn out to be the work of a serial killer, most likely one who has been on Crusade with the king. In a backward and superstitious country like England, Adelia must conceal her true identity as a doctor in order to avoid accusations of witchcraft. Along the way, she is assisted by Sir Rowley Picot, one of the king's tax collectors, a man with a personal stake in the investigation. Rowley may be a needed friend, or the fiend for whom they are searching. As Adelia's investigation takes her into Cambridge's shadowy river paths and behind the closed doors of its churches and nunneries, the hunt intensifies and the killer prepares to strike again . . .
My Review: This book was a group read on LibraryThing...The Highly Rated Book Group sponsored it, with the game-though-gravid Vintage_Books leading us through some very trenchant questions about our impressions of both the book and the world it's set in...and thank goodness for that! It's a lot more fun to read a book in a group of like-minded people, ones who read on multiple levels like our brethren and sistern here on this site.
Adelia Vesuvia, our sleuth, is a forensic physician in a time when I didn't know such existed. The twelfth century is a time period I find extremely fascinating. I've read a fair bit about this time, focusing on English and French history and the Crusades (those horrific events!); Catholic Church history at this time, when the schism from Eastern Orthodoxy was new and the invention of religious primacy in matters of the state was being consolidated, is also an interest of mine.
This book's evocation of that time is appealing to me precisely because it's relatively new to my somewhat jaded sensibilities. Salerno as the primary focus of Western medicine is a well-trodden path; the fact that Salernitan physicians could be women is not well-trodden, and the simple IDEA of forensics in this time...! Irresistable pulls for me, the historian-who-hated-school.
So I was disposed from the giddy-up to like the book. The author's execution was the primary unknown quantity for me. I am thrilled and delighted with the execution because the characters, while displaying anachronistic ideas and ideals, are quite believably constructed and supplied with plausible motivations for their divergent social attitudes. I can willingly suspend my disbelief at every turn where the story requires me to do so. That's very high praise from me!
Characterization, in a series mystery, is make-or-break. Do I, the reader, like this group of people enough to continue inviting them out to dinner? (The price of a hardcover book being equivalent to the price of an entree at a tablecloth restaurant; the trade paper to an entree at Applebee's or TGIFriday's; the rack-size to a value meal at the local McDonald's; which restaurant am I willing to take these characters to?) The answer, while unique to each individual, is the source of the publisher's and author's income. It behooves all parties to the preparation and publication of a mystery to consider this. The good people at Putnam, a tentacle of the Penguin empire, have done a very very good job of making this assessment and bringing a solid, interesting cast of regulars to my table at Le Cirque.
Sir Rowley, Adelia Vesuvia's English suitor, is a fine example. He's three dimensional in his pursuit of her, not simply presented as out to get some one thing; I think of some of the characters in Ellis Peters' Brother Cadfael mysteries as contrasts to this quality of characterization. We're given to understand that Sir Rowley has goals and ambitions that Adelia Vesuvia can both forward and threaten in equal measure. His ultimate place in her life, and her in his, isn't a foregone conclusion. Both characters are presented as struggling with what the other means to them on multiple planes. That's just plain good storytelling. It will keep me buying hardcovers as long as Franklin keeps doing it.
The minor characters, eg Gyltha the housekeeper and Mansur the Moor, are deftly drawn as well. They don't, in contrast to many series mysteries, come across as convenient mouth-pieces for the author's needed plot developments. (*cough*PhryneFisher'sDot*cough*)
Finally, the integration of real political developments like Henry II's move to take control of the Church's legal framework in his empire, is seamless enough to take a moment to recall as factual instead of created. It's necessary to move this plot forward. But it's also the historical reality. Well done, madam! Seldom achieved in fiction, still less the less-respected "genre" fiction that mysteries are published as.
This is a four-and-a-half star recommended book. Sally forth and procure it from yon bookery.