Though their primary home was in New York City, Willa Cather and her friend and housemate Edith Lewis also customarily spent part of the year at Cather's summer home in New Brunswick, Canada. In 1928, while in route to the latter destination, Lewis fell ill with the flu, forcing the ladies to lay over in Quebec for several days. Cather was greatly intrigued and impressed by the French culture of the city, the architecture of the old city and the many 17th-century public and religious buildings still in use (a number of which she personally visited) and by the history of the area. A few years later (1931), this experience bore fruit in her novel Shadows on the Rock.
The chronological setting here is 1697-98, with a short Epilogue set 15 years later, in 1713. Our main viewpoint character is Cecile Auclair, 12 years old when the book opens; her widowered father Euclide, an apothecary (what would today be called a pharmacist) is also at times a viewpoint character. (Despite Cecile's age, this is adult rather than YA or children's fiction --it has no bad language or sexual content, but neither of those were seen as hallmarks of "adult" fiction in 1931. Cecile is a highly responsible 12-year-old who largely handles the housekeeping for her dad, the author's concerns and themes are those that interest adults, and the text is at an adult reading level and presupposes adult psychological understanding.) Cather's style is in the Realist tradition. Both viewpoint characters are very realistically drawn and well realized, as are other important characters, such as the colony's governor, Count Frontenac, now-retired Bishop Laval and his successor, Bishop Saint-Vallier, Mother Superior Juchereau (all four of these were actual persons, and are apparently depicted as the sort of people that extant sources indicate they actually were). neglected little Jacques Gaux, born out of wedlock and in poverty, fur trader Pierre Charron, and others.
Indeed, this is much more a novel of character than of plot. There's honestly little of the latter, as such; the story is mostly an immersion in the daily lives of the Auclairs --and through them of the colonists as a whole-- as they live through the rhythms of the years, shaped by the annual arrival of supply ships from France in the early summer, the departure of the same ships in late fall, before the freezing of the St. Lawrence River cuts off all communication with Europe, and the very cold Canadian winters. The Quebec of that day has less than 2,000 people. Cather gives us an in-depth look at the household routines, diet, religious life, mores and customs, celebrations, medicine, etc. in this frontier community, with great appreciation of the natural beauty of the area and vivid descriptions of the city's geography and buildings. (Even if I hadn't found confirmation that Cather had personally visited Quebec before writing this, I'd have inferred that fact from the detailed nature of her treatment.) A subtle message here is the author's appreciation of the positives of life in a small, insular, homogenous and relatively close-knit community, in which change is slow and social and cultural continuity is a much more prominent reality. But there's also the subtle story of a generational shift, between Euclide's generation that sees France as home and Cecile's that sees Quebec as home and are on their way to becoming Canadians, rather than transplanted French.
If the immersive recreation of the historical setting is the book's greatest strength, one of its weaknesses is the converse of that; plotting is correspondingly weak, and over-arching conflict relatively absent. (What there is of the latter is the question of whether Euclide will return to France with his patron, the Count if the latter is released from his governorship --a return Cecile definitely would rather not see take place.) I could appreciate the book for what it is; but I admit that I prefer more of a story arc in my fiction reading. A feature of Cather's style here that's also irritating is that there's a fair number of lines of untranslated French dialogue in places (at one point a whole paragraph, where Cecile is reading from a book!). Of course, educated Americans in the 30s could often read French, since high schools of that day typically taught it. But they no longer do, and for me (and most other contemporary American readers) these lines might as well be in Choctaw. That causes our understanding of the dialogue to lose a lot in these places.
One final point is worth making. While Cather herself was not a Roman Catholic (she joined the Episcopal Church as an adult, in 1922), some Catholic literary scholars point to her as, nevertheless, a writer whose work is Catholic-friendly. She definitely doesn't demonize Catholics, as many Protestants in her generation did. (True, Catholics in that era often tended to likewise demonize Protestants.) The title character (whom the narrator and the author much admire) of My Antonia and her family are Catholics; in O Pioneers Alexandra and her youngest brother have close Catholic friends, and sometimes attend the local Catholic church and/or its social gatherings. Death Comes for the Archbishop (which I haven't read) revolves around the career of a Catholic prelate. This novel fits into that background; but unlike the first two novels I mentioned, ALL of the characters here are Catholic, and their community is self-consciously Catholic. Distinctively denominational Catholic spirituality is much more prominent here than it is in other Cather works I've read. Prayer is addressed to the Virgin Mary (rather than to God) as the normal first resort, self-torturing asceticism in the form of hairshirts, perpetual fasting, isolation as a hermit, etc. is much admired, and angelic visitations and apparitions of departed souls spouting uniquely Catholic theological ideas are recounted as factual. I don't know if these specific stories are invented by Cather or were actually reported in the 1600s as having happened. If they were the latter, I don't necessarily dismiss them as lies; indeed, I think some may be genuine, or in other cases plausibly explicable as dreams. But in general, it's fair to say that for Protestant readers (and even more so for non-Christian readers) some of the spiritual milieu here will have an alien quality to it.
Overall, I did like this novel. But I didn't rate it as highly as the other two Cather novels I've read, and I would recommend either of those as a first introduction to her work rather than this one.