Decent overview of the story but also not a book I'd recommend.
Wow this review is a lot longer than I thought it would be so quick recap: my biggest problem with this book is the underlying misogyny.
One of the major critiques in reviews on this book is that Beckman's writing style is 'too academic', honestly I think it's 'trying too hard to be academic'. The majority of the time the style is fine, it comes apart when he meshes vivid imagery, storytelling imagery, with words that definitely came out of a thesaurus. It feels like an attempt to write for the general public from someone who's used to writing for their professors.
Another critique I’ve seen is that there's too much detail. In some ways that's true. If you look at the bibliography clearly a lot of research went into this project, but the amount of detail overwhelms the fact that this feels like a very surface reading of what happened. There almost isn't enough detail to make it interesting in a humanizing way.
My major critique of this book doesn't seem to have come up in the reviews yet, which shocks me a bit. For a book about women, their agency, their reputations, their aspirations, this book is really all about the men. It's delicately misogynistic, and in defence of the author very likely unintentionally so. But it is.
Jeanne is cast as one of the main characters of the story, and despite giving her a full background and generating sympathy for her past and character, is certainly the villain to Rohan's dupe. Rohan is treated as a poor victim throughout, and he may very well have been, but I saw no convincing evidence in Beckman’s writing, or footnotes, to indicate the surviving sources support that conclusion the way Beckman has laid it out.
Throughout Jeanne is portrayed as a cunning whore who will sleep with men to get what she needs, again possible, but seduction is a claim that shifts agency away from the seduced to the seducer based entirely on sex. Beckman falls into the same trap as Jeanne’s contemporaries throughout, if she secured favours from a man she possibly, or probably, slept with him. Beckman isn’t saying she did, but it is a constant litany of ‘she could have.’
Her relationship with the one man she was actually committed to is barely explored, her husband. It’s established early on that their marriage was contentious and they both took lovers, but despite being free in England during the trial he tried to help Jeanne, he is also the first person she goes to after her escape from prison, at different time in their marriage Jeanne threatens to kill herself (not him) in several rows over his infidelity, and they are accomplices in schemes throughout the book sharing in risks and rewards. This isn’t to say they were a great love story, but there was certainly more of a relationship there than Beckman probed. Many of the relationships in this book undergo a similar treatment and the book is poorer for having missed that human element of history.
In contrast to Jeanne Marie Antoinette is idealized. She is a supporting character in this story, which is fair, it’s about her reputation not her, but she rises above all the intrigue as totally ignorant of the incident, frustrated and saddened during and after its outcome, and only as an active figure during the revolution where she is the ideal mother protecting her son’s interests. Throughout most of the book she fulfills the idealized roles of the innocent, the perfect mother, and the kind of woman who when attacked abnegates responsibility to the men in her life including to her husband. She only becomes an active figure in the narrative after she has aged (if not past the point of having children than portrayed as so) and her husband is incapable of acting. She remains the ideal mother and acts boldly to save her family, defends herself eloquently in court, and meekly goes to her execution.
All of these things are in some way true of Marie Antoinette, Beckman isn’t making them up. He’s just decided to write non-fiction in a way where the two most prominent women of this story fit perfectly into the Madonna/Whore dichotomy.
There is explicit sympathy for some of the supporting women of the narrative including Caligostro’s wife, who really deserves it considering what she had to go through, as well d’Oliva (who is forever referred to by the name Jeanne gave her rather than her own).
However what really bothered me is a throwaway line in Chapter 24:
“Costa taught Italian and French in the households of grandees, and had a tinderbox temper: once, he told Georges, in a jealous rage he had soaked a mistress in nitric acid.”
The next sentence is innocuous, Jeanne’s husband, Nicolas, hires Costa for language lessons but really hires him to give him news from France, and the following few pages have Costa working for the French to bring Nicolas back for trial. Nothing more is mentioned of this aside, and the impression I was left with was that Costa wasn’t really that bad of a crook except for that one little thing about his temper demonstrated by something he told someone he did. Except, soaking someone in nitric acid isn’t something you do in a fit of temper, it has to be planned, it horrifying, and as a descriptor of someone’s character it’s an event that warrants more than a throwaway line.
It’s the kind of detail that’s not only interesting to go into but important for the reader to understand why the author brought it up, and why it’s important narratively. Beckman drops the ball on details in this way consistently throughout the book, making it a the final product a bit bland.
It's also a history that reads with the sources rather than against the grain. I'm not familiar with the historiography of the subject but nothing in this treatment felt new or particularly insightful.