The disputed Canadian territory of Acadia, 1753
Catherine Price has just married Andrew Harrow, a captain in His Majesty’s army. They are very much in love, but he is almost always away from home. They live on a volatile piece of land, occupied by their fellow British colonists, French Catholics loyal to Louis XV, and Huguenots (French Protestants, historically persecuted by, and exiled from, their mother country), who swear allegiance to neither king. The drums of war echo in every hill and valley of this land.
With Andrew usually absent, Catherine finds herself stuck in a small-minded settlement, full of suspicious, petty matrons who have no wish to associate with her. Her mother died when she was a little child, her cold, imposing father is in the army like Andrew, and she has no other family.
Between Andrew’s visits, Catherine obsessively cleans the house, flips through her Bible, and takes long walks in the woods just beyond the settlement.
On one of these walks she bumps into Louise Belleveau Robichaud from the neighboring Huguenot settlement of Minas. Catherine can only speak childish French, Louise only stiff and limited English. But the two young women discover that they are the same age and facing many of the same problems…
Louise is also newly married, to Henri Robichaud, who’s quickly becoming a community leader despite his youth. Both of Louise’s parents are alive and loving; she has several siblings and is related to almost everyone in her tight-knit village.
Yet the folk of Minas are poor, especially compared to their English neighbors, with each generation fighting desperately against hunger and cold. They have no love for the French crown—the memory of their martyred ancestors is far too near and dear for that—but that doesn’t mean they’re about to swear allegiance to George II either. Sensing bad times ahead, Louise has turned to Scripture and nature for solace and guidance, just like Catherine.
As the two keep meeting up and chatting, they learn enough of each other’s languages to have real conversations, and study their Bibles together. They trade herbal remedies and husband stories, and share the anxieties and thrills of their first pregnancies. Catherine is embraced by Louise’s giant family. At first Andrew is quite alarmed to hear that his wife has been taken under French wings, but Louise and Henri adopt him too.
But many in the village of Edward have been spying on the Harrows and accuse them of treachery. As Andrew’s position is endangered, Catherine hatches a compassionate plan that may still end in tragedy…
No content advisory needed. This is one of the cleanest adult books I have ever read. The problems are pretty grown-up, but there’s nothing in the book itself that a twelve-year-old couldn’t handle.
Conclusions
When I read Oke and Bunn’s Acts of Faith trilogy, I enjoyed the story, prose, and characters. But I thought that the likeable cast acted more like American (or Canadian) Protestants of the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries than the first century Jews and pagan Romans that they were supposed to be. I figured the authors might be more at home writing about people closer in space and historical time. And indeed, they are!
It’s clear that our authors know and love the land of Acadia; the characters—Catherine, Andrew, Louise, Henri, Captain Price, Marie, Jacques, and Pastor Jean Ricard—seem sprung from its soil. With the exception of the (understandably) bitter Captain Price, they are all the sort of people you would want for neighbors, unfailingly generous and eager to help.
I do think that the whole concept might have been even more effective if Louise and her village had been Catholic. The English bore no great love for any French, but they found “Papists” especially disgusting.
Don’t misunderstand me—the persecution of the Huguenots is probably one of the most shameful chapters in the history of both royal France and Catholicism—but it seems like the only acceptable French characters in Christian historical fiction must be Huguenots, and that annoys me.
There was also a throwaway line in this book about a warmongering, royalist Catholic priest because of course there was *eye roll* . Not saying it didn't happen, obviously it did, but since the majority of French Canadians were Catholic I wish they had been represented better, especially since reaching out to people from different cultures is the whole point of the story.
The only other flaw was the twice-repeated reference to a city in the thirteen lower colonies called Washington. Given that Washington DC wouldn’t be founded for another thirty-seven years, and George Washington was just a twenty-one-year-old surveyor in 1753—does anyone know where the heck this book is talking about when it mentions Washington?!? I know it’s a nitpick, but it was bothering me.
When only three sentences out of a novel bother me, the author(s) did an excellent job. This was a surprisingly engrossing story that introduced me to a time and place I knew almost nothing about. The prose is good, the characters lovable, the setting deep, and the crisis at the end unexpected and wrenching. Now I’m eager to find out what becomes of the Harrows, the Robichauds, and their “beloved land.”