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Canticle: A Novel
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“Atmospheric and unforgettable.”—People
A masterful debut novel following a spirited young woman’s explorations of faith, agency, and love in thirteenth-century Bruges.
Aleys is sixteen years old and stubborn, bright, and prone to religious visions. She and her only friend, Finn, a young scholar, have been learning Latin together in secret—but just as she thinks their connection might become something more, everything unravels. When her father promises her in marriage to a merchant she doesn’t love, she runs away from home, finding shelter among the beguines, a fiercely independent community of religious women who refuse to answer to the church.
Among these hardworking and strong-willed women, Aleys glimpses for the first time the joys of a life of song, meaning, and friendship in the markets and along the canals of Bruges. But forces both mystical and political are at work. Illegal translations of scripture, the women’s independence, and a sudden rash of miracles all draw the attention of an ambitious bishop—and bring Aleys and those around her into ever-increasing danger, a danger that will push Aleys to a new understanding of love and sacrifice.
Grounded in the little-told stories of medieval women—mystics, saints, anchoresses, and beguines—and introducing a major new talent, Canticle is a luminous work of historical fiction, vividly evoking a world on the verge of transformation.
“Atmospheric and unforgettable.”—People
A masterful debut novel following a spirited young woman’s explorations of faith, agency, and love in thirteenth-century Bruges.
Aleys is sixteen years old and stubborn, bright, and prone to religious visions. She and her only friend, Finn, a young scholar, have been learning Latin together in secret—but just as she thinks their connection might become something more, everything unravels. When her father promises her in marriage to a merchant she doesn’t love, she runs away from home, finding shelter among the beguines, a fiercely independent community of religious women who refuse to answer to the church.
Among these hardworking and strong-willed women, Aleys glimpses for the first time the joys of a life of song, meaning, and friendship in the markets and along the canals of Bruges. But forces both mystical and political are at work. Illegal translations of scripture, the women’s independence, and a sudden rash of miracles all draw the attention of an ambitious bishop—and bring Aleys and those around her into ever-increasing danger, a danger that will push Aleys to a new understanding of love and sacrifice.
Grounded in the little-told stories of medieval women—mystics, saints, anchoresses, and beguines—and introducing a major new talent, Canticle is a luminous work of historical fiction, vividly evoking a world on the verge of transformation.
413 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 2, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 352 reviews
November 1, 2025
This is a fascinating story set in 13th century Brugge, Belgium.
Aleys, a young girl who was born to wool merchants is very taken with her mother’s Book of Psalms and begins to learn Latin to understand them.
Aleys starts having visions and wants to devote her life to God, but when her mother dies in childbirth, her father arranged a marriage for her and she runs off to join the Friars to avoid the marriage.
Aleys is sent to live with the beguines who show her different ways of worship and friendship.
As the story continues, Aleys has many more visions and she performs a few miracles of healing and is being called a saint
From there on it becomes a very gripping story ….a journey of a young girl’s transformation to the divine.
This is a story of the saints,martyrs, and religious visionaries in the early Catholic Church, groups of people I previously knew nothing about, and I don’t think that I have read much historical fiction that goes this far back in time…it was a quite a learning experience.
Beautifully written!
Thank you to NetGalley and Spiegel & Grau for the free ebook in exchange for an honest review!
Aleys, a young girl who was born to wool merchants is very taken with her mother’s Book of Psalms and begins to learn Latin to understand them.
Aleys starts having visions and wants to devote her life to God, but when her mother dies in childbirth, her father arranged a marriage for her and she runs off to join the Friars to avoid the marriage.
Aleys is sent to live with the beguines who show her different ways of worship and friendship.
As the story continues, Aleys has many more visions and she performs a few miracles of healing and is being called a saint
From there on it becomes a very gripping story ….a journey of a young girl’s transformation to the divine.
This is a story of the saints,martyrs, and religious visionaries in the early Catholic Church, groups of people I previously knew nothing about, and I don’t think that I have read much historical fiction that goes this far back in time…it was a quite a learning experience.
Beautifully written!
Thank you to NetGalley and Spiegel & Grau for the free ebook in exchange for an honest review!
December 28, 2025
Full of female power and the steep price of unshakeable faith. A harrowing, emotional, and moving reading experience.
This was one of my favorite novels of the year ❤️
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
This was one of my favorite novels of the year ❤️
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
August 9, 2025
A truly excellent historical fiction piece that really brings religiosity, female catholic mysticism, and the world of medieval Bruges alive. Vibrant, moving, and deeply magical in the way that Christianity of the Old World must be, this book masterfully constructed an almost-Saint, almost-heretic of a devotional girl.
4.5 stars
4.5 stars
May 12, 2025
While this book deals with the subject of religion, it is not a religious book. Instead, it is an exploration into the agency of women in medieval Bruges. A setting in which Christianity and men greatly constrained how women could live their life.
Throughout the novel, Edwards makes it a point to plainly highlight the moments where Aleys was limited based off the patriarchal systems in which she was born (Bruges) and in which she chose to devote her life to (the church). Clearly well researched, this provided me valuable insight into what life would be like for a woman of that time.
In addition to being well-researched, this book was also well-written! Edwards is such a phenomenal writer that I had to keep checking to make sure that this was her debut novel. I am blown away by her writing style and ability to craft such a compelling/somewhat unexpected plot.
Furthermore, I felt that every decision made by the main cast followed a logical progression of their character. Even while characters made shocking decisions, I felt that I could understand why they did what they did. To me, this is the sign of a great writer, someone who can really make you believe in the growth of a character over the course of a novel.
Really, the only thing that I didn’t love was that the Bishop felt a little too much like a two-dimensional mustache-twirling villain. This didn’t significantly take away from my enjoyment of the book, but his sections were a little jarring to read. Especially since so many of the other perspective characters were so well built out.
Now, here’s the part where I am going to be a bit more specific with my review. I will try to avoid any major spoilers in the paragraphs below, but read at your own risk.
I liked how the author touches upon the consequences (not necessarily dangers) of fanaticism. Aleys turns away from her family, greatly harming their station and relationship with Aleys. While she feels justified at every step, her original decisions are innately selfish. Even her becoming an anchoress is selfish at its core. Only at the end of the book do I believe she understands what it means to make a selfless decision. Meanwhile, the Friar takes on a different form of fanaticism that causes him to bring harm someone he once held dear. However, the difference is that at the end of the story, one of these characters would proudly repeat their actions, while the other is full of shame with what had been done.
I also liked how in this book, there’s room for doubt over if what is happening is a miracle or coincidence. It makes you wonder if this novel is supposed to fit into the magical realism genre or historical fiction. Either way, what ends up being important in the end, is how the characters choose to interpret the events in this novel.
Overall, this book was a bit different than what I had expected going in, but was still an engaging read. While I often hesitate to compare one book to another, “Canticle” fondly reminds me of “The Book of Longings.” One thing to note, while I don’t think this is a religious book in the sense I don’t believe the author was trying to proselytize in any way, this book heavily deals with Christianity as that was what life in Medieval Bruges was centered around. If you are comfortable with that subject matter, then I would absolutely say that this book is worth a read!
** Disclaimer: I received this book as an ARC through NetGalley but all opinions are my own **
Throughout the novel, Edwards makes it a point to plainly highlight the moments where Aleys was limited based off the patriarchal systems in which she was born (Bruges) and in which she chose to devote her life to (the church). Clearly well researched, this provided me valuable insight into what life would be like for a woman of that time.
In addition to being well-researched, this book was also well-written! Edwards is such a phenomenal writer that I had to keep checking to make sure that this was her debut novel. I am blown away by her writing style and ability to craft such a compelling/somewhat unexpected plot.
Furthermore, I felt that every decision made by the main cast followed a logical progression of their character. Even while characters made shocking decisions, I felt that I could understand why they did what they did. To me, this is the sign of a great writer, someone who can really make you believe in the growth of a character over the course of a novel.
Really, the only thing that I didn’t love was that the Bishop felt a little too much like a two-dimensional mustache-twirling villain. This didn’t significantly take away from my enjoyment of the book, but his sections were a little jarring to read. Especially since so many of the other perspective characters were so well built out.
Now, here’s the part where I am going to be a bit more specific with my review. I will try to avoid any major spoilers in the paragraphs below, but read at your own risk.
I liked how the author touches upon the consequences (not necessarily dangers) of fanaticism. Aleys turns away from her family, greatly harming their station and relationship with Aleys. While she feels justified at every step, her original decisions are innately selfish. Even her becoming an anchoress is selfish at its core. Only at the end of the book do I believe she understands what it means to make a selfless decision. Meanwhile, the Friar takes on a different form of fanaticism that causes him to bring harm someone he once held dear. However, the difference is that at the end of the story, one of these characters would proudly repeat their actions, while the other is full of shame with what had been done.
I also liked how in this book, there’s room for doubt over if what is happening is a miracle or coincidence. It makes you wonder if this novel is supposed to fit into the magical realism genre or historical fiction. Either way, what ends up being important in the end, is how the characters choose to interpret the events in this novel.
Overall, this book was a bit different than what I had expected going in, but was still an engaging read. While I often hesitate to compare one book to another, “Canticle” fondly reminds me of “The Book of Longings.” One thing to note, while I don’t think this is a religious book in the sense I don’t believe the author was trying to proselytize in any way, this book heavily deals with Christianity as that was what life in Medieval Bruges was centered around. If you are comfortable with that subject matter, then I would absolutely say that this book is worth a read!
** Disclaimer: I received this book as an ARC through NetGalley but all opinions are my own **
December 16, 2025
On the first page of “Canticle,” by Janet Rich Edwards, we see a 17-year-old girl walk toward the stake where she must be burned to death.
“Witnesses will later swear the girl was lit like a taper, and some will claim she had a halo,” Edwards writes. “No one is quite sure what happened.”
Ultimately, suspense plays no part in this story, though perhaps it never does for the truly faithful. Instead, readers get a rotating series of perspectives that, together, suggest something essential about the mystery and the terror of spiritual passion.
This medieval drama feels strangely out of place on the shelf of literary fiction, which has largely expelled the breath of the divine from its realm. We sophisticated readers have faith that novels will be sanctuaries of irony and psychological realism. Anything touched by an angel has been excommunicated, banished to the wilderness of fantasy, cheesy romance or Christian fiction where God knows what goes on.
Edwards, like her late-13th-century heroine, Aleys, is walking a treacherous path. With “Canticle,” her debut novel, she has created a bizarre story of miracles and martyrdom by drawing on equally bizarre stories about medieval mystics such as St. Clare of Assisi, St. Teresa of Avila and St. Catherine of Genoa. Some readers will catch echoes of Lauren Groff’s 2021 novel, “Matrix,” about the 12th-century poet Marie de France, but Edwards’s fidelity to the Christ-saturated imagination of the period is bolder — and, probably, less appealing to those modern readers who want historical women to be sweetened with modern feminist sensibilities like a Communion wafer dipped in honey.
“Canticle” begins in Flanders more than 700 years ago, when concerns about ecclesiastical corruption are already percolating. “The Church is uneasy,” Edwards writes, “a fat beast circling itself, snapping at its tail.” When we first meet Aleys, she’s a precocious girl who adores the Song of Solomon. Like many impassioned teenagers, she’s afraid “she’ll live her life and die in triviality.” Given the nature of the fervid religious tales surrounding her, perhaps it’s not so surprising that she fantasizes about being a martyr.
Edwards has a certain degree of fun with her heroine’s youthful conceit — and conceitedness. While teaching herself Latin, “Aleys tests her faith like she’s wiggling a loose tooth,” the narrator says. “She tries fasting, but after a day or two, though she pinches her thighs and is sure she’s wasting away, nobody notices. It’s a great disappointment. Aleys needs a hair shirt.”
There’s an earnestness to these early scenes — and others — that can sound precious, but Aleys’s childish notions quickly curdle in the crucible of experience. To avoid a lucrative....
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/...
“Witnesses will later swear the girl was lit like a taper, and some will claim she had a halo,” Edwards writes. “No one is quite sure what happened.”
Ultimately, suspense plays no part in this story, though perhaps it never does for the truly faithful. Instead, readers get a rotating series of perspectives that, together, suggest something essential about the mystery and the terror of spiritual passion.
This medieval drama feels strangely out of place on the shelf of literary fiction, which has largely expelled the breath of the divine from its realm. We sophisticated readers have faith that novels will be sanctuaries of irony and psychological realism. Anything touched by an angel has been excommunicated, banished to the wilderness of fantasy, cheesy romance or Christian fiction where God knows what goes on.
Edwards, like her late-13th-century heroine, Aleys, is walking a treacherous path. With “Canticle,” her debut novel, she has created a bizarre story of miracles and martyrdom by drawing on equally bizarre stories about medieval mystics such as St. Clare of Assisi, St. Teresa of Avila and St. Catherine of Genoa. Some readers will catch echoes of Lauren Groff’s 2021 novel, “Matrix,” about the 12th-century poet Marie de France, but Edwards’s fidelity to the Christ-saturated imagination of the period is bolder — and, probably, less appealing to those modern readers who want historical women to be sweetened with modern feminist sensibilities like a Communion wafer dipped in honey.
“Canticle” begins in Flanders more than 700 years ago, when concerns about ecclesiastical corruption are already percolating. “The Church is uneasy,” Edwards writes, “a fat beast circling itself, snapping at its tail.” When we first meet Aleys, she’s a precocious girl who adores the Song of Solomon. Like many impassioned teenagers, she’s afraid “she’ll live her life and die in triviality.” Given the nature of the fervid religious tales surrounding her, perhaps it’s not so surprising that she fantasizes about being a martyr.
Edwards has a certain degree of fun with her heroine’s youthful conceit — and conceitedness. While teaching herself Latin, “Aleys tests her faith like she’s wiggling a loose tooth,” the narrator says. “She tries fasting, but after a day or two, though she pinches her thighs and is sure she’s wasting away, nobody notices. It’s a great disappointment. Aleys needs a hair shirt.”
There’s an earnestness to these early scenes — and others — that can sound precious, but Aleys’s childish notions quickly curdle in the crucible of experience. To avoid a lucrative....
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/...
November 9, 2025
4.5 Stars
Amazingly, this is a debut effort for this author. The main character Aleys is sixteen and exists in 13th century Belgium. Her most prized possession is a psalter that once belonged to her mother, now deceased. A psalter is a smallish religious book with stories and vibrant illustrations, luxuriously bound in leather with shimmering gold accents on the pages. The words were in Latin, for only the priests were allowed to read such tracts and inform their congregants. However, Aleys' mother would tell her the stories in the psalter, and Aleys was a rapt recipient. She felt a true calling to the Lord and would pray with everything she had- to the point where she would have heavenly visions. She escapes a very advantageous marriage that would have benefited her family to dedicate her life to the Franciscan order. Strictly, women were meant to join the nunnery, but Aleys is something "other than" and the Franciscan priest Lukas can clearly see that. He temporarily sends her to the beguinage in Bruges (where emancipated lay women led a pious and celibate life) in the hope that she could assemble a female Franciscan order. When she's assigned to work at the local hospital and spontaneously cures some dire patients word spreads fast about miracles and sainthood.
There was a very short lull in the book for me during the first third where I considered DNF, but I'm sure glad that I stuck around for the end! As the book advanced there were many sections of the book that were riveting to the point where I lost myself in the experience. The writing was straightforward, but often beautiful. I learned some things that were truly intriguing and also kind of horrifying- like the existence of an Anchoress on the side of a church. It's a small area consisting of a room or two with a fireplace, and once the key turns in the lock from the inside of the church you're locked in forever to pray until you die. It's a vow that you take, and there's a ceremony you go through in church which is essentially a funeral. This book comes out in December 2025, but I think it's going to have a strong presence as one of the best books of 2025.
Thank you to the publisher Spiegel & Grau who provided an advance reader copy via NetGalley.
Amazingly, this is a debut effort for this author. The main character Aleys is sixteen and exists in 13th century Belgium. Her most prized possession is a psalter that once belonged to her mother, now deceased. A psalter is a smallish religious book with stories and vibrant illustrations, luxuriously bound in leather with shimmering gold accents on the pages. The words were in Latin, for only the priests were allowed to read such tracts and inform their congregants. However, Aleys' mother would tell her the stories in the psalter, and Aleys was a rapt recipient. She felt a true calling to the Lord and would pray with everything she had- to the point where she would have heavenly visions. She escapes a very advantageous marriage that would have benefited her family to dedicate her life to the Franciscan order. Strictly, women were meant to join the nunnery, but Aleys is something "other than" and the Franciscan priest Lukas can clearly see that. He temporarily sends her to the beguinage in Bruges (where emancipated lay women led a pious and celibate life) in the hope that she could assemble a female Franciscan order. When she's assigned to work at the local hospital and spontaneously cures some dire patients word spreads fast about miracles and sainthood.
There was a very short lull in the book for me during the first third where I considered DNF, but I'm sure glad that I stuck around for the end! As the book advanced there were many sections of the book that were riveting to the point where I lost myself in the experience. The writing was straightforward, but often beautiful. I learned some things that were truly intriguing and also kind of horrifying- like the existence of an Anchoress on the side of a church. It's a small area consisting of a room or two with a fireplace, and once the key turns in the lock from the inside of the church you're locked in forever to pray until you die. It's a vow that you take, and there's a ceremony you go through in church which is essentially a funeral. This book comes out in December 2025, but I think it's going to have a strong presence as one of the best books of 2025.
Thank you to the publisher Spiegel & Grau who provided an advance reader copy via NetGalley.
December 2, 2025
Oh, how I have been looking forward to reading this book, ever since I attended a virtual author event with debut author, Janet Rich Edwards. Canticle does not disappoint.
I’ve not read much historical fiction set during this time, and I’m certain even less in Flanders and Belgium. Canticle is the story of Aleys, just sixteen years old as the story begins. Quite complex, she is learning Latin in secret with her friend. She is pious and has religious visions. Aleys’s family struggles financially, and her marriage is arranged.
At that point, Aleys flees and joins a group of religious women called the Beguines, who are not affiliated with a church. With these women, she finds new experiences, many of them positive. But things begin to change and become more dangerous when a bishop enters the picture.
Aleys is a complex, compelling character, and this story of the saints and mystics shaping the early Catholic Church. Several important themes are covered, and I adored how women were the focus of the story. Canticle is powerfully written, wholly absorbing, and absolutely why I read historical fiction.
I received a gifted copy.
Many of my reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com and instagram: www.instagam.com/tarheelreader
I’ve not read much historical fiction set during this time, and I’m certain even less in Flanders and Belgium. Canticle is the story of Aleys, just sixteen years old as the story begins. Quite complex, she is learning Latin in secret with her friend. She is pious and has religious visions. Aleys’s family struggles financially, and her marriage is arranged.
At that point, Aleys flees and joins a group of religious women called the Beguines, who are not affiliated with a church. With these women, she finds new experiences, many of them positive. But things begin to change and become more dangerous when a bishop enters the picture.
Aleys is a complex, compelling character, and this story of the saints and mystics shaping the early Catholic Church. Several important themes are covered, and I adored how women were the focus of the story. Canticle is powerfully written, wholly absorbing, and absolutely why I read historical fiction.
I received a gifted copy.
Many of my reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com and instagram: www.instagam.com/tarheelreader
May 23, 2025
• I received an ARC for this book from Netgalley and the publisher in exchange for my honest review and I appreciate both your work and commitment to this project. The following opinion is my own and holds no major spoilers.
• Canticle
• Janet Rich Edwards
• Rating: 5/5
Every time I read a book, a list of people I would recommend it to pops up in my head. This list turns shorter or longer as the reading goes on, but there are three people that are almost permanent in this imaginary list: my husband, my brother and my grandma - bear with me on this explanation, it’ll make sense once I get there.
My husband (who averts my book recommendations like the plague although it doesn't stop me from nagging him endlessly), my brother (who adds everything I recommend to his TBR) and my grandma (the one responsible for my reading-driven DNA) who devours books no matter what.
And now I’ll get to the point, because what I want you to understand is that while reading Canticle, my husband and my brother - permanent residents of my mental recommendation list - weren’t there. And then I realized why.
Canticle is a book about rights freely given to men but denied to women since the dawn of time: voice, faith and choice. It’s a book that shows you how everything is political when you’re a woman and how much it can be taken away even though you had nothing to start with. It’s a book that holds a silent rage and the soul of a revolution vibrating under the majestic prose of Janet Rich Edwards (girl, you weave dangerous poetry!). And even though I think men should be the ones absorbing this reading like a hornbook, there’s an underneath language which only women will be able to translate.
This is easily my top 3 books I cried the most while reading. Not just for the masterfully crafted writing, the beautifully built characters or the deep emotional themes, but because I’m a woman and the fact that I’m able to READ at all is a skill paid with the blood of so many brave women like the ones in this book: women with sharp minds and sensitive souls, with fragile bodies but iron resilience, who gave up their lives for our right to read, pray and speak up. I can still feel my tears welling up as I write this in a mix of sorrow for the struggle of so many women who still fight for their right to perform their faith and express themselves and the thankfulness for the ones who reached their goals and paved the way.
I know this was a review written with my heart on my fingertips, but for the readers who need a rational convincing, I’ll let you know this book is a Babel meets Joanne D’Arc but instead of swords we have quills. I thought Babel would be my forever favorite book about translating and then Canticle came in like a storm and made me cry my heart out in the middle of the night while mourning both its message and its ending.
Canticle became one of my favorite books of all times, and I’m still gonna think about that one specific scene that made me bawl my eyes out and tattooed itself in my soul. I’m definitely gonna recommend it to every person I know no matter their gender (prepare yourselves for the incessant nagging), for if we don’t use books to transform the ways we think and feel, there’s nothing much left.
But girls, my sisters in alphabetization, you have no idea the treat that’s about to cross your path.
• Canticle
• Janet Rich Edwards
• Rating: 5/5
Every time I read a book, a list of people I would recommend it to pops up in my head. This list turns shorter or longer as the reading goes on, but there are three people that are almost permanent in this imaginary list: my husband, my brother and my grandma - bear with me on this explanation, it’ll make sense once I get there.
My husband (who averts my book recommendations like the plague although it doesn't stop me from nagging him endlessly), my brother (who adds everything I recommend to his TBR) and my grandma (the one responsible for my reading-driven DNA) who devours books no matter what.
And now I’ll get to the point, because what I want you to understand is that while reading Canticle, my husband and my brother - permanent residents of my mental recommendation list - weren’t there. And then I realized why.
Canticle is a book about rights freely given to men but denied to women since the dawn of time: voice, faith and choice. It’s a book that shows you how everything is political when you’re a woman and how much it can be taken away even though you had nothing to start with. It’s a book that holds a silent rage and the soul of a revolution vibrating under the majestic prose of Janet Rich Edwards (girl, you weave dangerous poetry!). And even though I think men should be the ones absorbing this reading like a hornbook, there’s an underneath language which only women will be able to translate.
This is easily my top 3 books I cried the most while reading. Not just for the masterfully crafted writing, the beautifully built characters or the deep emotional themes, but because I’m a woman and the fact that I’m able to READ at all is a skill paid with the blood of so many brave women like the ones in this book: women with sharp minds and sensitive souls, with fragile bodies but iron resilience, who gave up their lives for our right to read, pray and speak up. I can still feel my tears welling up as I write this in a mix of sorrow for the struggle of so many women who still fight for their right to perform their faith and express themselves and the thankfulness for the ones who reached their goals and paved the way.
I know this was a review written with my heart on my fingertips, but for the readers who need a rational convincing, I’ll let you know this book is a Babel meets Joanne D’Arc but instead of swords we have quills. I thought Babel would be my forever favorite book about translating and then Canticle came in like a storm and made me cry my heart out in the middle of the night while mourning both its message and its ending.
Canticle became one of my favorite books of all times, and I’m still gonna think about that one specific scene that made me bawl my eyes out and tattooed itself in my soul. I’m definitely gonna recommend it to every person I know no matter their gender (prepare yourselves for the incessant nagging), for if we don’t use books to transform the ways we think and feel, there’s nothing much left.
But girls, my sisters in alphabetization, you have no idea the treat that’s about to cross your path.
August 20, 2025
Before I began reading this book, I was deeply intrigued by its premise. A historical fiction novel taking place in medieval times and focusing on the lives of women as well as religion in the period, it seemed like a really thought provoking read, and I hoped that Canticle would be the book to break me out of my summer-long reading slump. But, despite the story's strong beginning, this one fell really flat to me, and it was a struggle for me not to give up on reading, especially in the last third.
Aleys has always felt a special connection to her mother's psalter, an illuminated Latin prayer book detailing the stories of the saints. She desperately wishes to reach the same heights of religion that the saints seem to achieve, but she refuses to go into a nunnery, wanting to also help her father after the death of her mother. When the family falls on hard times, Aleys' father promises her in marriage to a wealthy merchant. Aleys runs away the night of her marriage and pledges herself to what she really loves: religion. But after joining an order of friars as the only woman, they send her to the beguines, a community of women devoting their lives to God. Aleys attempts to fit in with the community and recruit more female friars, discovering their illegal translations of the Bible into the common language. As miracles begin to happen in Bruges and an ambitious bishop finds out about the translations, Aleys must face the real hardships of devotion only mentioned in the stories of her psalter.
As I mentioned previously, I was so excited to read this. I am fascinated by the Catholic mysticism of the Middle Ages, and Aleys seemed like she would tie that in to a very real story of living as a woman during this time period. The first third of this book really delivered on that for me. I could feel the desperation as Aleys realized she had almost no choices in her life, and her reliance on religion to the point of obsession was realistic. Unfortunately, once she joins the friars, any promise Aleys showed to me as a character disappeared. Based on the book's blurb, I thought she would find much more joy and community within the beguines than she actually did. While she made a few friends and discoveries there, Aleys, at least to me, fell very into the trope of being "not like other girls".
Even though I had a few issues with the writing of her time with the beguines, it doesn't even compare to how much I disliked the last third of the book, where Aleys lives a solitary life as an anchoress. There's nothing that I hate more in a book than when the main character is locked up and does nothing. I understand that it was something that happened to woman at this time, but I believe that it should've been interesting to read. Instead, it is mostly filled with indecipherable descriptions of religious visions and Aleys' daily routine of doing nothing but praying or being depressed. The questioning of her sainthood felt pointless to me, as the miracles happening were definitely much more than coincidences, and the other characters who had sections in their point of view, Friar Lukas and the Bishop, were even more unlikable than Aleys. Marta, a servant girl, was definitely the most interesting character, but her sections felt like an afterthought.
Overall, I would advise readers like me to continue their search for a good historical fiction novel set in medieval times without looking into this one. It's well-researched and has a good description of the religions groups of the period, but the plot and characters fall short. I do think some people may enjoy it, and I believe it might do well when published. However, my disappointment was strong for this novel, and I will keep fighting to get out of my reading slump.
Aleys has always felt a special connection to her mother's psalter, an illuminated Latin prayer book detailing the stories of the saints. She desperately wishes to reach the same heights of religion that the saints seem to achieve, but she refuses to go into a nunnery, wanting to also help her father after the death of her mother. When the family falls on hard times, Aleys' father promises her in marriage to a wealthy merchant. Aleys runs away the night of her marriage and pledges herself to what she really loves: religion. But after joining an order of friars as the only woman, they send her to the beguines, a community of women devoting their lives to God. Aleys attempts to fit in with the community and recruit more female friars, discovering their illegal translations of the Bible into the common language. As miracles begin to happen in Bruges and an ambitious bishop finds out about the translations, Aleys must face the real hardships of devotion only mentioned in the stories of her psalter.
As I mentioned previously, I was so excited to read this. I am fascinated by the Catholic mysticism of the Middle Ages, and Aleys seemed like she would tie that in to a very real story of living as a woman during this time period. The first third of this book really delivered on that for me. I could feel the desperation as Aleys realized she had almost no choices in her life, and her reliance on religion to the point of obsession was realistic. Unfortunately, once she joins the friars, any promise Aleys showed to me as a character disappeared. Based on the book's blurb, I thought she would find much more joy and community within the beguines than she actually did. While she made a few friends and discoveries there, Aleys, at least to me, fell very into the trope of being "not like other girls".
Even though I had a few issues with the writing of her time with the beguines, it doesn't even compare to how much I disliked the last third of the book, where Aleys lives a solitary life as an anchoress. There's nothing that I hate more in a book than when the main character is locked up and does nothing. I understand that it was something that happened to woman at this time, but I believe that it should've been interesting to read. Instead, it is mostly filled with indecipherable descriptions of religious visions and Aleys' daily routine of doing nothing but praying or being depressed. The questioning of her sainthood felt pointless to me, as the miracles happening were definitely much more than coincidences, and the other characters who had sections in their point of view, Friar Lukas and the Bishop, were even more unlikable than Aleys. Marta, a servant girl, was definitely the most interesting character, but her sections felt like an afterthought.
Overall, I would advise readers like me to continue their search for a good historical fiction novel set in medieval times without looking into this one. It's well-researched and has a good description of the religions groups of the period, but the plot and characters fall short. I do think some people may enjoy it, and I believe it might do well when published. However, my disappointment was strong for this novel, and I will keep fighting to get out of my reading slump.
November 18, 2025
Some stories ask for patience, and Canticle by Janet Rich Edwards rewards every bit of it. I found myself lingering over lines the way you might pause before singing in a quiet church. The story takes place in Brugge during the late 13th century, where a devout young girl named Aleys stands at its heart. Edwards explores faith and devotion, corruption within the Church, and the arrogance of men, while shining a light on how women lived, worshipped, and fought to practice their beliefs on their own terms. In a time when women were seen as little more than vessels for childbirth, their spiritual independence was nothing short of radical.
Edwards wields lyrical realism like a weapon. She uses it to bring thirteenth-century Brugge to life, still small enough that everyone seems to know one another. The quiet of nature meets the clamor of the market, the wildness of fervor, and the peace of worship. You can feel the rain and the breeze, see the sun, and imagine the colors. Much of this comes through Aleys’s devoted eyes as her story ebbs and flows, her faith tested again and again on her path toward God. The perspectives of the Bishop of Tournai, Friar Lukas, the beguines, and others appear as well, each voice perfectly matched to its character.
Aleys and Friar Lukas feel especially real as we watch them grow in different ways, beginning as saplings and ending as fully grown trees, each weathered in their own way. The other characters show less evolution as the tale progresses, and the bishop leans a bit one-dimensional, but they still click neatly into place within the story, each serving a clear purpose. The pacing starts measured, almost contemplative, then gathers momentum as tension builds, while the writing shifts fluidly between lyrical, sensory-rich, and deeply emotional, and sometimes all three at once.
Through Aleys and those around her, Edwards suggests that belief without choice is obedience, not faith. Her depiction of thirteenth-century Brugge feels close, its questions about control, conscience, and moral integrity still painfully relevant. The story carries a quiet resonance that reaches into the present, exploring the same struggle between genuine faith and institutional power, between obedience and personal conviction. Edwards treats belief as something alive, shaping and testing her characters in ways that feel timeless.
I was deeply moved by Canticle and by the struggles these people, especially the women, endured. The pacing feels slow at first, but the patience it asks of you is well worth it. Readers who may connect with this story include feminists, those drawn to questions of faith and religion, and fans of historical fiction that feels strikingly real.
I read a digital copy made available by Spiegal & Grau through NetGalley, and this review reflects my honest opinion.
Edwards wields lyrical realism like a weapon. She uses it to bring thirteenth-century Brugge to life, still small enough that everyone seems to know one another. The quiet of nature meets the clamor of the market, the wildness of fervor, and the peace of worship. You can feel the rain and the breeze, see the sun, and imagine the colors. Much of this comes through Aleys’s devoted eyes as her story ebbs and flows, her faith tested again and again on her path toward God. The perspectives of the Bishop of Tournai, Friar Lukas, the beguines, and others appear as well, each voice perfectly matched to its character.
Aleys and Friar Lukas feel especially real as we watch them grow in different ways, beginning as saplings and ending as fully grown trees, each weathered in their own way. The other characters show less evolution as the tale progresses, and the bishop leans a bit one-dimensional, but they still click neatly into place within the story, each serving a clear purpose. The pacing starts measured, almost contemplative, then gathers momentum as tension builds, while the writing shifts fluidly between lyrical, sensory-rich, and deeply emotional, and sometimes all three at once.
Through Aleys and those around her, Edwards suggests that belief without choice is obedience, not faith. Her depiction of thirteenth-century Brugge feels close, its questions about control, conscience, and moral integrity still painfully relevant. The story carries a quiet resonance that reaches into the present, exploring the same struggle between genuine faith and institutional power, between obedience and personal conviction. Edwards treats belief as something alive, shaping and testing her characters in ways that feel timeless.
I was deeply moved by Canticle and by the struggles these people, especially the women, endured. The pacing feels slow at first, but the patience it asks of you is well worth it. Readers who may connect with this story include feminists, those drawn to questions of faith and religion, and fans of historical fiction that feels strikingly real.
I read a digital copy made available by Spiegal & Grau through NetGalley, and this review reflects my honest opinion.
October 9, 2025
This is such a spectacular read that it is hard to believe this is Edwards first novel. I possess a rather blurry knowledge of the medieval Church based on whichever undergrad course touched upon it. That is to say, I knew about the saints and mystics of the time period but certainty not about anchoresses or the beguines. Taking place in wealthy Bruges of the thirteen century, Canticle tackles the themes of the power of the written word, miracles, visions, the agency of women, and Church corruption. As the publisher mentions, “if you liked Lauren Groff’s Matrix then you will love Canticle.” I wholeheartedly agree. First rate historical fiction.
November 25, 2025
Never have I read a book so far out of my comfort zone. I love historical fiction, but this one was something else. Set in medieval times full of political and religious turmoil, it takes you on a journey. I know I am not the usual audience for this book.
It was thought-provoking, sometimes very uncomfortable, and gruesome. There were passages I straight out didn’t understand, and I was completely lost, I admit that. However deep, however clever, this book didn’t resonate with me, and I’m quite on the fence as to what to rate this. Sometimes I was seriously disturbed, but a book should elicit an emotion from you, however uncomfortable one, and this was…a lot. I know for sure the main factor why I didn’t DNF this was the audio version, which was great, and the narrator was really engaging.
Thank you to Spotify Audiobooks and NetGalley for providing me with an audio ARC of this book. All opinions are my own.
Overall rating: 3 stars
It was thought-provoking, sometimes very uncomfortable, and gruesome. There were passages I straight out didn’t understand, and I was completely lost, I admit that. However deep, however clever, this book didn’t resonate with me, and I’m quite on the fence as to what to rate this. Sometimes I was seriously disturbed, but a book should elicit an emotion from you, however uncomfortable one, and this was…a lot. I know for sure the main factor why I didn’t DNF this was the audio version, which was great, and the narrator was really engaging.
Thank you to Spotify Audiobooks and NetGalley for providing me with an audio ARC of this book. All opinions are my own.
Overall rating: 3 stars
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November 13, 2025Aleys is a young visionary who chooses the church rather than be forced into marriage. We're warned at the outset that she is not going to end well in the physical world, alas. The story is how she got to her martyrdom.
It's set in 13th-century Bruges, at a time when Europe was ruled by both kings and the Pope, twin pillars in a not-always-amicable ladder called the Great Chain of Being. Within this setting, we are shown how these power structures affected women, particularly in how female spiritual expression and calls for autonomy were perceived (are you surprised?) as threats.
Her spiritual journey is beautifully described. The life of the priory, light and dark, is vividly presented. I thought Edwards did a fine job with Aleys' visionary nature.
It's set in 13th-century Bruges, at a time when Europe was ruled by both kings and the Pope, twin pillars in a not-always-amicable ladder called the Great Chain of Being. Within this setting, we are shown how these power structures affected women, particularly in how female spiritual expression and calls for autonomy were perceived (are you surprised?) as threats.
Her spiritual journey is beautifully described. The life of the priory, light and dark, is vividly presented. I thought Edwards did a fine job with Aleys' visionary nature.
June 17, 2025
I loved everything about this novel. Aleys is a medieval woman, but she's also a woman for all ages; stubborn, spiritually seeking a higher purpose, and yearns for a community of like-minded people. She suffers greatly for being different, but her transformation is truly breathtaking. Edwards' prose is beautifully written and transportive; she captures 13th century Bruges and the little known Beguine community with a precise attention to historical detail. Highly recommended for lovers of historical fiction, medieval fiction, and yes--saints.
May 11, 2025
This debut novel written by Janet Rich Edwards is indeed an eye opener and recommended to anyone who is having thoughts of a spiritual awakening. I for one picked it up because the summary sounded fascinating and I figured it would be an interesting read. I was right about it being interesting I just didn’t know that I would literally be begging for more when I finished it.
Set against the backdrop of the middle ages our main character Aleys is a child with a loving family. Her mother has taught her and her siblings the importance of god and faith. After her mothers tragic death in childbirth she makes a vow never to marry or have children but at the same time she can't see herself becoming a nun.
Many years later she has grown up and is still set in her ways. However one day her father announces she will marry. Aleys who doesn't want to follow through with the whole ordeal realizes that she has only one other choice. the night before the wedding she makes a brave move and runs away to a monastery. From there she will begin her spiritual journey and meet some influential people along the way. Some of these people will have good intentions while others not so good.
I received an ARC copy from Netgalley and all opinions are of my own.
Set against the backdrop of the middle ages our main character Aleys is a child with a loving family. Her mother has taught her and her siblings the importance of god and faith. After her mothers tragic death in childbirth she makes a vow never to marry or have children but at the same time she can't see herself becoming a nun.
Many years later she has grown up and is still set in her ways. However one day her father announces she will marry. Aleys who doesn't want to follow through with the whole ordeal realizes that she has only one other choice. the night before the wedding she makes a brave move and runs away to a monastery. From there she will begin her spiritual journey and meet some influential people along the way. Some of these people will have good intentions while others not so good.
I received an ARC copy from Netgalley and all opinions are of my own.
November 25, 2025
CANTICLE
By Janet Rich Edwards
Narrated by Lucy Rayner
A Story of Faith, Doubt, and Knowledge
In 13th-century Bruges, Belgium, we meet Aleys—a strong-willed, intelligent, and at times naive young woman prone to mystical visions. Fleeing an unwanted marriage, she finds refuge with the Beguines, a community of independent religious women. When Aleys begins performing “so-called” miracles, word spreads, drawing the attention of the Bishop—a man driven by power and greed. Once he becomes involved, trouble ensues. It follows women who want more than the roles they’re given and who seek knowledge, and truth. Is Aleys truly a vessel for God?
I’m in awe that this is a debut. As I’ve often said, I’m partial to debuts—but especially to ones that absolutely deliver. The writing is confident and immersive, crafted with the skill of a seasoned storyteller. The depth of research shines through. I especially loved learning about the Beguines, anchorites, and the beliefs and practices of medieval religious life. The historical detail enriches the narrative—from church corruption to the fervor and fanaticism of medieval spiritual movements. Janet Rich Edwards has clearly earned a place on the literary shelf with this outstanding first novel. I’ll be eagerly awaiting her next book. There’s so much to discuss in this story.
Lucy Rayner’s narration is excellent and elevates the tone and emotion of the narrative.
A definite read if you enjoy medieval history, religious fanaticism, miracles and mysticism, stories of faith and doubt, women forging their own path in a tightly controlled religious world, and depictions of power, corruption, sisterhood, and community.
I enhanced ebook with audio.
Thank you to NetGalley and Spiegel & Grau by Spotify Audiobooks for the ALC and to Spiegel & Grau for the eARC.
By Janet Rich Edwards
Narrated by Lucy Rayner
A Story of Faith, Doubt, and Knowledge
In 13th-century Bruges, Belgium, we meet Aleys—a strong-willed, intelligent, and at times naive young woman prone to mystical visions. Fleeing an unwanted marriage, she finds refuge with the Beguines, a community of independent religious women. When Aleys begins performing “so-called” miracles, word spreads, drawing the attention of the Bishop—a man driven by power and greed. Once he becomes involved, trouble ensues. It follows women who want more than the roles they’re given and who seek knowledge, and truth. Is Aleys truly a vessel for God?
I’m in awe that this is a debut. As I’ve often said, I’m partial to debuts—but especially to ones that absolutely deliver. The writing is confident and immersive, crafted with the skill of a seasoned storyteller. The depth of research shines through. I especially loved learning about the Beguines, anchorites, and the beliefs and practices of medieval religious life. The historical detail enriches the narrative—from church corruption to the fervor and fanaticism of medieval spiritual movements. Janet Rich Edwards has clearly earned a place on the literary shelf with this outstanding first novel. I’ll be eagerly awaiting her next book. There’s so much to discuss in this story.
Lucy Rayner’s narration is excellent and elevates the tone and emotion of the narrative.
A definite read if you enjoy medieval history, religious fanaticism, miracles and mysticism, stories of faith and doubt, women forging their own path in a tightly controlled religious world, and depictions of power, corruption, sisterhood, and community.
I enhanced ebook with audio.
Thank you to NetGalley and Spiegel & Grau by Spotify Audiobooks for the ALC and to Spiegel & Grau for the eARC.
May 13, 2025
This novel is absolutely stunning.
The writing is so beautiful I kept pausing to reread passages that so aptly convey our deep human striving for meaning.
This is not a religious novel. It merely takes place in a religious time period. The seeking of our protagonist, Aleys, is to feel something more. She is what I would consider a devout skeptic. She longs to be chosen by God but secretly wonders if miracles are credible. She pushes herself to further and further extremes in her seeking. Her character is so adeptly drawn that we laugh with her delightful smart humor and pull for her when she's in danger.
I also love the earthy character of Marte, the begijnhof maid, when she is taught her letters: "I can read. I can write. I can begin a new tale."
I couldn't put this book down. It is both historical fiction and a page turner.
The writing is so beautiful I kept pausing to reread passages that so aptly convey our deep human striving for meaning.
This is not a religious novel. It merely takes place in a religious time period. The seeking of our protagonist, Aleys, is to feel something more. She is what I would consider a devout skeptic. She longs to be chosen by God but secretly wonders if miracles are credible. She pushes herself to further and further extremes in her seeking. Her character is so adeptly drawn that we laugh with her delightful smart humor and pull for her when she's in danger.
I also love the earthy character of Marte, the begijnhof maid, when she is taught her letters: "I can read. I can write. I can begin a new tale."
I couldn't put this book down. It is both historical fiction and a page turner.
October 28, 2025
A beautiful book that I loved. janet will be a guest on Check This Out!! Don't miss it.
July 28, 2025
“Fear is first cousin to reverence.” - The Bishop. Such is the motto of the Catholic Church in medieval Flanders.
This story is written with such beautiful prose it reads like a song. Not a hymn in praise of righteous religion, but a ballad to the women who fight for the freedom to live outside the narrow confines set by men. Born in Bruges, Belgium Aleys is the teen daughter of a draper who arranges her betrothal in order to save the family financially. Desiring a life that transcends the typical marriage, Aleys runs away to join the local friars and devote herself to God.
The characters in this story are so well developed, layered and complex, with emotions and motivations that range from relatable to extreme. We have a bishop who is apathetic toward God and preys on people’s faith to further his political ambitions, and the friar who is so obsessed with God he borders on being unhinged. Aleys is caught like a prize in a tug of war between their opposing goals, yet somehow manages to transcend their self serving schemes. There are the Beguines, a spiritual group of women not accountable to the church, who offer Aleys a loving community and home. Then there is Marte, a woman who questions the morality of sacred biblical stories with such blunt practicality that I can’t help but laugh. No one person is fully villainized or infallible.
While religion features heavily, it is neither endorsed nor condemned. This is ultimately a story of oppression and revolution with religion being the weapon the Church uses to keep the masses subdued. The heroes are the women who have few choices in their lives, with blessing and heartache resulting from the few precious choices they do have in a world run by men. The duality between following personal desires versus what will benefit the greater good is carefully and painfully explored. No choice is innately wrong, but the consequences are far reaching.
I am in awe of the exquisite writing, the humanity of the characters, and objective portrayals of desire and love. There are passages that made me laugh, some where I cried, and times when I was both horrified and inspired. What an astounding debut!
5/5⭐️
Thank you to NetGalley and Spiegel and Brau for this eArc. All opinions are my own.
This story is written with such beautiful prose it reads like a song. Not a hymn in praise of righteous religion, but a ballad to the women who fight for the freedom to live outside the narrow confines set by men. Born in Bruges, Belgium Aleys is the teen daughter of a draper who arranges her betrothal in order to save the family financially. Desiring a life that transcends the typical marriage, Aleys runs away to join the local friars and devote herself to God.
The characters in this story are so well developed, layered and complex, with emotions and motivations that range from relatable to extreme. We have a bishop who is apathetic toward God and preys on people’s faith to further his political ambitions, and the friar who is so obsessed with God he borders on being unhinged. Aleys is caught like a prize in a tug of war between their opposing goals, yet somehow manages to transcend their self serving schemes. There are the Beguines, a spiritual group of women not accountable to the church, who offer Aleys a loving community and home. Then there is Marte, a woman who questions the morality of sacred biblical stories with such blunt practicality that I can’t help but laugh. No one person is fully villainized or infallible.
While religion features heavily, it is neither endorsed nor condemned. This is ultimately a story of oppression and revolution with religion being the weapon the Church uses to keep the masses subdued. The heroes are the women who have few choices in their lives, with blessing and heartache resulting from the few precious choices they do have in a world run by men. The duality between following personal desires versus what will benefit the greater good is carefully and painfully explored. No choice is innately wrong, but the consequences are far reaching.
I am in awe of the exquisite writing, the humanity of the characters, and objective portrayals of desire and love. There are passages that made me laugh, some where I cried, and times when I was both horrified and inspired. What an astounding debut!
5/5⭐️
Thank you to NetGalley and Spiegel and Brau for this eArc. All opinions are my own.
December 31, 2025
Aleys is sixteen and already out of step with the life laid out for her. She’s sharp, stubborn, and given to unsettling religious visions. When her father promises her in marriage to a merchant she doesn’t love, Aleys escapes. Her refuge is a beguinage in medieval Bruges: a community of independent religious women who live, work, sing, and worship together without answering to husbands or the Church. Among the beguines, Aleys encounters a new model of womanhood: one built on friendship, labor, devotion, and shared purpose rather than blind obedience.
Bruges is a city on the brink of transformation. Illegal scripture translations circulate. Miracles (or something like them) occur. And an ambitious bishop begins to scrutinize the beguines’ independence. As mysticism, politics, and faith collide, Aleys must grapple with love, sacrifice, and what it truly means to belong to God, to the world, to others, and to herself.
I loved the focus on beguines, women who are so often overlooked in historical fiction despite being quietly radical. The novel treats their lives with reverence without romanticizing them. Their independence is hard-won and deeply meaningful. Aleys herself is a compelling protagonist: young, intense, and searching. Her spirituality is strange and earnest. The book does an especially good job of exploring female mysticism without turning it into madness. There’s something deeply moving about the communal life depicted here. It’s a reminder that chosen family and collective purpose have always been powerful alternatives to marriage.
Canticle is a beautiful, intelligent work of historical fiction that centers medieval women not as footnotes or symbols, but as thinkers, laborers, mystics, and friends. It’s especially strong in its depiction of faith as lived experience.
If you’re interested in medieval history, women’s religious communities, forbidden texts, or stories about girls carving out space in rigid worlds, this is absolutely worth your time. And if, like me, you’re obsessed with Bruges? This book feels like walking its canals at dusk, bells echoing overhead.
Bruges is a city on the brink of transformation. Illegal scripture translations circulate. Miracles (or something like them) occur. And an ambitious bishop begins to scrutinize the beguines’ independence. As mysticism, politics, and faith collide, Aleys must grapple with love, sacrifice, and what it truly means to belong to God, to the world, to others, and to herself.
I loved the focus on beguines, women who are so often overlooked in historical fiction despite being quietly radical. The novel treats their lives with reverence without romanticizing them. Their independence is hard-won and deeply meaningful. Aleys herself is a compelling protagonist: young, intense, and searching. Her spirituality is strange and earnest. The book does an especially good job of exploring female mysticism without turning it into madness. There’s something deeply moving about the communal life depicted here. It’s a reminder that chosen family and collective purpose have always been powerful alternatives to marriage.
Canticle is a beautiful, intelligent work of historical fiction that centers medieval women not as footnotes or symbols, but as thinkers, laborers, mystics, and friends. It’s especially strong in its depiction of faith as lived experience.
If you’re interested in medieval history, women’s religious communities, forbidden texts, or stories about girls carving out space in rigid worlds, this is absolutely worth your time. And if, like me, you’re obsessed with Bruges? This book feels like walking its canals at dusk, bells echoing overhead.
November 21, 2025
Special thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for a free, electronic ARC of this novel received in exchange for an honest review.
Expected publication date: Dec. 2, 2025
“Canticle” is the debut novel of author Janet Rich Edwards. Replete with faith, passion and dedication, “Canticle” tells the story of a young woman in thirteenth century Bruges, whose search for God leads to a deep exploration of faith and agency.
Aleys is sixteen years old in thirteenth century Bruges, when her mother dies in childbirth. Desolate and overcome with grief, Aleys questions God, struggling to comprehend why her mother, a kind and good woman, was taken from her. It is during this time she meets Finn, a neighbourhood boy, who teachers her to understand Latin and soon, Aleys is reading scripture and other religious works, looking for a deeper meaning. When Finn joins a monastery, leaving Aleys alone, Aleys’ father promises her marriage to a local merchant, which is the last thing Aleys wants. Aleys runs, finding refuge with an unusual religious order of women who show her what it really means to stay true to yourself, above all odds, which sets Aleys on a path of redemption and danger as she fights to prove her love of God, while saving her friends and herself.
“Canticle” is genuine and unique, a novel unlike any I’ve ever read. It is historical fiction, based on real people and places that existed in the thirteenth century and it is a powerful tale of a young woman’s fight for agency against the backdrop of the most influential force at that time- the Church. Aleys faces the male-dominated religious hierarchy, as she struggles against a lecherous monk who believes she is his salvation, while her community labels her a saint and a martyr.
The novel is narrated primarily by Aleys, although there are sections of the novel where we hear from other characters, such as the women in her religious beguine and the power-obsessed Bishop. Aleys is an honest and naïve character, stubborn and brave yet determined and naïve all at once. I had never heard of “the beguines” before and Edwards provides a wealth of information on the unique religious order and I enraptured, wanting these outcasts to succeed.
I found “Canticle” to be a slow burn, but the language was artistic and the underlying themes of misogyny, faith and the patriarchy of organized religion made a powerful imprint. “Canticle” is a novel created for a certain type of reader but as a debut, “Canticle” has put Edwards on the map as one to watch.
Expected publication date: Dec. 2, 2025
“Canticle” is the debut novel of author Janet Rich Edwards. Replete with faith, passion and dedication, “Canticle” tells the story of a young woman in thirteenth century Bruges, whose search for God leads to a deep exploration of faith and agency.
Aleys is sixteen years old in thirteenth century Bruges, when her mother dies in childbirth. Desolate and overcome with grief, Aleys questions God, struggling to comprehend why her mother, a kind and good woman, was taken from her. It is during this time she meets Finn, a neighbourhood boy, who teachers her to understand Latin and soon, Aleys is reading scripture and other religious works, looking for a deeper meaning. When Finn joins a monastery, leaving Aleys alone, Aleys’ father promises her marriage to a local merchant, which is the last thing Aleys wants. Aleys runs, finding refuge with an unusual religious order of women who show her what it really means to stay true to yourself, above all odds, which sets Aleys on a path of redemption and danger as she fights to prove her love of God, while saving her friends and herself.
“Canticle” is genuine and unique, a novel unlike any I’ve ever read. It is historical fiction, based on real people and places that existed in the thirteenth century and it is a powerful tale of a young woman’s fight for agency against the backdrop of the most influential force at that time- the Church. Aleys faces the male-dominated religious hierarchy, as she struggles against a lecherous monk who believes she is his salvation, while her community labels her a saint and a martyr.
The novel is narrated primarily by Aleys, although there are sections of the novel where we hear from other characters, such as the women in her religious beguine and the power-obsessed Bishop. Aleys is an honest and naïve character, stubborn and brave yet determined and naïve all at once. I had never heard of “the beguines” before and Edwards provides a wealth of information on the unique religious order and I enraptured, wanting these outcasts to succeed.
I found “Canticle” to be a slow burn, but the language was artistic and the underlying themes of misogyny, faith and the patriarchy of organized religion made a powerful imprint. “Canticle” is a novel created for a certain type of reader but as a debut, “Canticle” has put Edwards on the map as one to watch.
November 16, 2025
The Canticle was voted among the Most Anticipated Books of Fall by Goodreads users, even though it is a debut novel and deals with a fairly esoteric subject. I have no knowledge of where the readers got the information to label it so. But they were right. Hopefully soon one of fall’s most anticipated books will become one of fall’s most lauded.
The story is of Aleys, a young girl living in 13th century Bruges. Throughout her childhood, she was enamored of stories of God, and at age 16 makes a surprising decision to become a nun rather than marry a man she doesn’t love. She ends up living with a colony of beguines, women who serve God as lay people. Her spiritual life is intense; she has visions so vivid it leads people to believe she might be a saint. Of course, this leads to unintended consequences, as she (unintentionally) clashes both with the church and power hungry men.
At first glance, it seems as though the story is about religion in the 13th century, but I found that the deeper message concerned two things: the consequences of choices, and the role of women in spiritual life. The males in the story represented orthodoxy; they had only a cursory knowledge of Aleys’ spiritual struggle, and saw her as a symbol of whatever they wanted her to be: a rebellious child, an emotionally disturbed young woman, a potential saint, a heretic. She would of course consider herself none of these. Her eyes and her soul was focused at all times on her relationship with God. The women in the story, in contrast to the men, were risk takers, innovators, and creative thinkers. Which brings up the second theme: choices. Toward the end of the book, Aleys and her friend Marte have a discussion about the biblical story of Abraham, who is asked by God to kill his son to prove his faithfulness. The passage is usually interpreted to mean that Abraham found favor with God because he was willing to kill his son, but Marte has another hypothesis: what if Abraham made the wrong choice, and was instead supposed to choose his son? Aleys is forced to reflect on her own choices and questions them, even though she doesn’t know the full effect her choices had on her family and friends.
This book will stay with me for a long time. I will enjoy reading more about 13th century Catholicism, female mystics and the beguines, but I also have a great deal to ponder about the other themes. Many thanks to Spiegel & Grau and NetGalley for allowing me to read this outstanding book in exchange for my honest review.
The story is of Aleys, a young girl living in 13th century Bruges. Throughout her childhood, she was enamored of stories of God, and at age 16 makes a surprising decision to become a nun rather than marry a man she doesn’t love. She ends up living with a colony of beguines, women who serve God as lay people. Her spiritual life is intense; she has visions so vivid it leads people to believe she might be a saint. Of course, this leads to unintended consequences, as she (unintentionally) clashes both with the church and power hungry men.
At first glance, it seems as though the story is about religion in the 13th century, but I found that the deeper message concerned two things: the consequences of choices, and the role of women in spiritual life. The males in the story represented orthodoxy; they had only a cursory knowledge of Aleys’ spiritual struggle, and saw her as a symbol of whatever they wanted her to be: a rebellious child, an emotionally disturbed young woman, a potential saint, a heretic. She would of course consider herself none of these. Her eyes and her soul was focused at all times on her relationship with God. The women in the story, in contrast to the men, were risk takers, innovators, and creative thinkers. Which brings up the second theme: choices. Toward the end of the book, Aleys and her friend Marte have a discussion about the biblical story of Abraham, who is asked by God to kill his son to prove his faithfulness. The passage is usually interpreted to mean that Abraham found favor with God because he was willing to kill his son, but Marte has another hypothesis: what if Abraham made the wrong choice, and was instead supposed to choose his son? Aleys is forced to reflect on her own choices and questions them, even though she doesn’t know the full effect her choices had on her family and friends.
This book will stay with me for a long time. I will enjoy reading more about 13th century Catholicism, female mystics and the beguines, but I also have a great deal to ponder about the other themes. Many thanks to Spiegel & Grau and NetGalley for allowing me to read this outstanding book in exchange for my honest review.
December 5, 2025
Janet Rich Edwards delivers a stunning debut with Canticle, a historical novel that weaves the intimate struggles of a young mystic with the political machinations of thirteenth-century Bruges. This is not your typical medieval tale of religious devotion—it's a searching examination of what happens when personal revelation collides with institutional power, when women dare to seek God on their own terms, and when the line between spiritual ecstasy and dangerous heresy becomes perilously thin.
The Architecture of Belief
Set against the backdrop of 1299 Bruges, Edwards constructs a world where wool merchants and bishops jostle for power, where women form their own communities outside Church control, and where the act of translating scripture into the vernacular becomes a revolutionary—and potentially fatal—act. The novel centers on Aleys, a sixteen-year-old whose mystical visions set her on a collision course with the religious establishment.
What makes this debut particularly impressive is Edwards's refusal to romanticize the medieval period or her protagonist's spiritual journey. Aleys is no plaster saint; she's stubborn, occasionally arrogant, and deeply uncertain. Her path from reluctant runaway bride to Franciscan novice to miracle-working anchoress unfolds with psychological complexity that feels utterly contemporary while remaining rooted in the medieval worldview. Edwards captures the vertigo of religious doubt alongside the intoxication of spiritual certainty, showing us a young woman who craves divine union but cannot always distinguish God's voice from her own desires—or worse, from manipulation.
The Beguines emerge as the novel's most compelling creation. These historically real communities of independent religious women who refused both marriage and the cloister offer Aleys a glimpse of female solidarity and intellectual freedom. Through characters like Sophia, the wise magistra; Katrijn, the skilled draper with a sharp tongue; and Ida, whose gentle presence grounds the community, Edwards brings to life a forgotten model of women's spiritual and economic autonomy. Their hospital work, their carding of wool, their secret study of Latin scripture—all of it feels meticulously researched yet never pedantic.
Prose That Prays and Bleeds
Edwards writes with a distinctive voice that echoes medieval mystical literature while remaining accessible to modern readers. Her prose can shift from the spare beauty of monastic simplicity to lush sensory detail, mirroring Aleys's oscillation between spiritual clarity and earthly confusion. The descriptions of Aleys's visions—God as ocean wave, as mountain and tide, as light dissolving her very substance—carry genuine power without tipping into New Age pastiche.
Consider this passage describing the Beguines' chapel service: the call-and-response singing of the Song of Songs, voices weaving together like a nest being built, the realization that "they all yearn as she does." Edwards understands that medieval spirituality was communal, embodied, and often ecstatic in ways we've forgotten. She gives us a Christianity that dances and weeps, that finds God in market squares and deathbeds, not just in cathedrals.
The novel's structure deserves particular praise. Edwards divides the narrative into four books with chapters alternating between Aleys and the men who seek to control her: Friar Lukas, her spiritual director whose devotion curdles into obsession; and Bishop Jan, her spiritual director's brother, a cynical politician who sees sainthood as a business opportunity. This multiperspective approach allows Edwards to expose the machinery of power behind religious authority while maintaining empathy for even her most flawed characters.
The Shadows in the Light
Yet Canticle is not without its rough edges, which may account for its solid but not exceptional reception among early readers. The pacing occasionally stumbles, particularly in the middle section where Aleys performs miracles in the hospital. Edwards lingers perhaps too long on the uncertainty of Aleys's healing gift—we understand her doubt after the first few failures, but the repetitive cycle of faith and doubt can feel like treading water.
More problematic is the character of Friar Lukas, whose descent from sincere spiritual mentor to something far darker feels rushed and insufficiently developed. His transformation needed more psychological scaffolding to be fully convincing, though Edwards deserves credit for refusing to make her male religious figures simple villains. Even Bishop Jan, calculating and worldly, receives moments of complexity that elevate him beyond stereotype.
The novel's treatment of Aleys's miraculous healings walks a deliberate tightrope—are they real? psychosomatic? coincidental? Edwards never fully commits to an answer, which some readers may find frustrating. This ambiguity serves the novel's larger themes about the unknowability of divine will, but it can leave the narrative feeling oddly suspended between the mystical and the mundane.
The ending, which I won't spoil, opts for a kind of transcendent ambiguity that may not satisfy readers seeking either clear martyrdom or miraculous salvation. It's a bold choice that honors the novel's refusal of easy answers, though it risks leaving the emotional arc feeling incomplete.
What History Illuminates
Beyond its narrative strengths, Canticle succeeds as a work of historical recovery. Edwards draws on the writings of actual medieval mystics—Meister Eckhart, Julian of Norwich, Catherine of Genoa—and the documented history of Beguine communities to craft a world that feels both foreign and startlingly relevant. The novel asks: What happens when women claim direct access to God? Who gets to control spiritual truth? At what point does personal revelation become heresy?
These questions resonate powerfully in our current moment of religious and political polarization. Edwards doesn't draw heavy-handed parallels to contemporary debates about women's authority or institutional versus personal faith, but they're there for readers who want to find them. The novel's exploration of how translation—literally making scripture accessible in common language—becomes an act of rebellion speaks to ongoing arguments about who owns sacred texts and how they should be interpreted.
The historical detail enriches rather than encumbers the narrative. Edwards clearly did her research on medieval Bruges's wool trade, hospital practices, religious orders, and the Beguine communities, but she wears her learning lightly. We get enough sensory texture—the smell of fleece, the taste of barley gruel, the amber light through horn windowpanes—to feel transported without getting mired in historical exposition.
Why This Matters
Edwards has given us a medieval historical novel that thinks deeply about faith without being devotional, that centers women without being ahistorical, and that grapples with institutional power without being reductive. It's a book that trusts its readers to sit with uncertainty, to find beauty in questions rather than answers.
For readers who appreciated the intellectual rigor of Hilary Mantel's Cromwell trilogy, the spiritual seeking of Marilynne Robinson's Gilead, or the medieval women's stories in Geraldine Brooks's Year of Wonders, Canticle offers rich rewards. It joins recent works exploring women's spiritual authority in restrictive religious contexts, though Edwards's medieval setting allows her to examine these tensions at their historical root.
This is a novel that demands—and deserves—careful reading. Edwards's prose can be dense, her spiritual discussions complex, her refusal to moralize occasionally frustrating. But for readers willing to enter Aleys's claustrophobic cell, to breathe the incense and doubt alongside her, Canticle offers an experience both intellectually challenging and emotionally resonant.
The Architecture of Belief
Set against the backdrop of 1299 Bruges, Edwards constructs a world where wool merchants and bishops jostle for power, where women form their own communities outside Church control, and where the act of translating scripture into the vernacular becomes a revolutionary—and potentially fatal—act. The novel centers on Aleys, a sixteen-year-old whose mystical visions set her on a collision course with the religious establishment.
What makes this debut particularly impressive is Edwards's refusal to romanticize the medieval period or her protagonist's spiritual journey. Aleys is no plaster saint; she's stubborn, occasionally arrogant, and deeply uncertain. Her path from reluctant runaway bride to Franciscan novice to miracle-working anchoress unfolds with psychological complexity that feels utterly contemporary while remaining rooted in the medieval worldview. Edwards captures the vertigo of religious doubt alongside the intoxication of spiritual certainty, showing us a young woman who craves divine union but cannot always distinguish God's voice from her own desires—or worse, from manipulation.
The Beguines emerge as the novel's most compelling creation. These historically real communities of independent religious women who refused both marriage and the cloister offer Aleys a glimpse of female solidarity and intellectual freedom. Through characters like Sophia, the wise magistra; Katrijn, the skilled draper with a sharp tongue; and Ida, whose gentle presence grounds the community, Edwards brings to life a forgotten model of women's spiritual and economic autonomy. Their hospital work, their carding of wool, their secret study of Latin scripture—all of it feels meticulously researched yet never pedantic.
Prose That Prays and Bleeds
Edwards writes with a distinctive voice that echoes medieval mystical literature while remaining accessible to modern readers. Her prose can shift from the spare beauty of monastic simplicity to lush sensory detail, mirroring Aleys's oscillation between spiritual clarity and earthly confusion. The descriptions of Aleys's visions—God as ocean wave, as mountain and tide, as light dissolving her very substance—carry genuine power without tipping into New Age pastiche.
Consider this passage describing the Beguines' chapel service: the call-and-response singing of the Song of Songs, voices weaving together like a nest being built, the realization that "they all yearn as she does." Edwards understands that medieval spirituality was communal, embodied, and often ecstatic in ways we've forgotten. She gives us a Christianity that dances and weeps, that finds God in market squares and deathbeds, not just in cathedrals.
The novel's structure deserves particular praise. Edwards divides the narrative into four books with chapters alternating between Aleys and the men who seek to control her: Friar Lukas, her spiritual director whose devotion curdles into obsession; and Bishop Jan, her spiritual director's brother, a cynical politician who sees sainthood as a business opportunity. This multiperspective approach allows Edwards to expose the machinery of power behind religious authority while maintaining empathy for even her most flawed characters.
The Shadows in the Light
Yet Canticle is not without its rough edges, which may account for its solid but not exceptional reception among early readers. The pacing occasionally stumbles, particularly in the middle section where Aleys performs miracles in the hospital. Edwards lingers perhaps too long on the uncertainty of Aleys's healing gift—we understand her doubt after the first few failures, but the repetitive cycle of faith and doubt can feel like treading water.
More problematic is the character of Friar Lukas, whose descent from sincere spiritual mentor to something far darker feels rushed and insufficiently developed. His transformation needed more psychological scaffolding to be fully convincing, though Edwards deserves credit for refusing to make her male religious figures simple villains. Even Bishop Jan, calculating and worldly, receives moments of complexity that elevate him beyond stereotype.
The novel's treatment of Aleys's miraculous healings walks a deliberate tightrope—are they real? psychosomatic? coincidental? Edwards never fully commits to an answer, which some readers may find frustrating. This ambiguity serves the novel's larger themes about the unknowability of divine will, but it can leave the narrative feeling oddly suspended between the mystical and the mundane.
The ending, which I won't spoil, opts for a kind of transcendent ambiguity that may not satisfy readers seeking either clear martyrdom or miraculous salvation. It's a bold choice that honors the novel's refusal of easy answers, though it risks leaving the emotional arc feeling incomplete.
What History Illuminates
Beyond its narrative strengths, Canticle succeeds as a work of historical recovery. Edwards draws on the writings of actual medieval mystics—Meister Eckhart, Julian of Norwich, Catherine of Genoa—and the documented history of Beguine communities to craft a world that feels both foreign and startlingly relevant. The novel asks: What happens when women claim direct access to God? Who gets to control spiritual truth? At what point does personal revelation become heresy?
These questions resonate powerfully in our current moment of religious and political polarization. Edwards doesn't draw heavy-handed parallels to contemporary debates about women's authority or institutional versus personal faith, but they're there for readers who want to find them. The novel's exploration of how translation—literally making scripture accessible in common language—becomes an act of rebellion speaks to ongoing arguments about who owns sacred texts and how they should be interpreted.
The historical detail enriches rather than encumbers the narrative. Edwards clearly did her research on medieval Bruges's wool trade, hospital practices, religious orders, and the Beguine communities, but she wears her learning lightly. We get enough sensory texture—the smell of fleece, the taste of barley gruel, the amber light through horn windowpanes—to feel transported without getting mired in historical exposition.
Why This Matters
Edwards has given us a medieval historical novel that thinks deeply about faith without being devotional, that centers women without being ahistorical, and that grapples with institutional power without being reductive. It's a book that trusts its readers to sit with uncertainty, to find beauty in questions rather than answers.
For readers who appreciated the intellectual rigor of Hilary Mantel's Cromwell trilogy, the spiritual seeking of Marilynne Robinson's Gilead, or the medieval women's stories in Geraldine Brooks's Year of Wonders, Canticle offers rich rewards. It joins recent works exploring women's spiritual authority in restrictive religious contexts, though Edwards's medieval setting allows her to examine these tensions at their historical root.
This is a novel that demands—and deserves—careful reading. Edwards's prose can be dense, her spiritual discussions complex, her refusal to moralize occasionally frustrating. But for readers willing to enter Aleys's claustrophobic cell, to breathe the incense and doubt alongside her, Canticle offers an experience both intellectually challenging and emotionally resonant.
October 3, 2025
Canticle takes place in 1300s Bruges which is a place and time I was very unfamiliar with. It follows Aleys living an idyllic life as an older teen. When this life is beset by tragedy, Aleys must choose between the life of a wife and mother or a life devoted to God. To complicate things further, she doesn't want to be a nun, she wants to be a Franciscan monk, live a life of poverty and read Latin Scripture.
There's so much rich historical content here - the fight of the Church to keep Scripture in Latin - to be the only conduit of the Bible for lay people. The Beguines, a lay order of women who chose a life of service and live together but aren't nuns. Anchoresses, women who chose to wall themselves in for the rest of their lives to devote their life to prayer.
But ultimately, Canticle is a fascinating story of a young woman looking for agency in the 14th century. A young woman who sees religious visions and is single minded in her love for God.
Thank you to #netgalley and Spiegel & Grau for this ARC. Canticle comes out December 2. I highly recommend it.
There's so much rich historical content here - the fight of the Church to keep Scripture in Latin - to be the only conduit of the Bible for lay people. The Beguines, a lay order of women who chose a life of service and live together but aren't nuns. Anchoresses, women who chose to wall themselves in for the rest of their lives to devote their life to prayer.
But ultimately, Canticle is a fascinating story of a young woman looking for agency in the 14th century. A young woman who sees religious visions and is single minded in her love for God.
Thank you to #netgalley and Spiegel & Grau for this ARC. Canticle comes out December 2. I highly recommend it.
August 28, 2025
I rarely DNF a book, but sometimes you just need to when you realize it’s bruising your desire to read at all. Canticle is a well-written and deeply researched book, and one that definitely sounded interesting to me…but it is slow. Detailed, poetic…but slow. I kept waiting for the plot to move or for the characters to really appeal to me, but I’m over halfway through and it’s just not happening.
I can definitely see how people could enjoy this especially if religion and the history of it is your jam. This is just my experience in this current stage of life and I’m not feeling invested enough to keep going.
Thank you NetGalley for the ARC. Opinions are most certainly my own!
I can definitely see how people could enjoy this especially if religion and the history of it is your jam. This is just my experience in this current stage of life and I’m not feeling invested enough to keep going.
Thank you NetGalley for the ARC. Opinions are most certainly my own!
December 2, 2025
What a very POWERFUL book this was! Wow!!
And, from what I understand, this is a Debut Novel… so keep your eyes open for this author!!
And, what a wonderful time for it to be released…. When we are leading up to the holiest season on the Catholic/Christian calendar!
I felt some VERY STRONG FEELINGS while reading this! And the ONLY other time I experienced something similar was when I was walking with my kids in the vicinity of The Vatican. It was a totally Overwhelming feeling of peace, and love, and community, and GOD! … basically like God is wrapping YOU up in his arms. 😇
If you’ve ever been there, you might understand. Or, maybe it was just me???
Let me start off by saying that this takes place in 1299… so, a few years ago… (or centuries)!!
And, that life for women back then was Very Different than it is now!! 😮😳
Aleys is a young girl. She lost her Mother already, and kind of blames herself! 🤔. But her Father and her little sister are still around and very involved in her life. Aleys is gifted. She is very religious, as was her Mom, and she gets feelings… or visions… but she doesn’t really understand them, or want anyone to know about this. And she’s not really sure what these things are…but she IS very devoted to Jesus! She is only a teenager! And it frightens her at times… but she just continues to pray.
She meets a young boy/man, Finn, who is also very involved with God. She spends time with him learning Latin, and she teaches him as well. They form a strong friendship, so when he decides to leave her and enroll in a monastery, well she is totally gobsmacked! And basically mourning… She really thought she meant something to him…
As time goes on, and their home life is changing rapidly, her Dad makes plans for her…. Without ever talking to her, or telling her. And, unfortunately, she decides that this is when SHE must change her life… on her own.
So, she runs away. She finds a group of women who seem to worship God, in a different city. She really tries to fit in there. But she really misses home. At times she still has these ‘visions’ and wonders about them…
The Friar who supervises this group of women, Lucas, feels that she is truly gifted. A messenger from God. But, he is also a bit jealous…
His brother is the Bishop. And he doesn’t care for Aleys at all… But he is really NOT a nice guy.
It really opens up from here as we go on Aleys’ journey. There are beautiful moments, and there are treacherous ones. There are people who want to make her a Saint! And others who want to crucify her…. Or, burn her at the stake. 🤯
I will say it is a bit of a difficult read for all that goes on in it, especially at this time of the year, but for me, well… I loved it. And as I mentioned… beautiful time of the year for its release.
5 Bold, Bright, Intriguing, Faithful Stars for me! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
#Canticle by @JanetRichEdwards and narrated stunningly by @LucyRayner.
This one is being released TODAY!! 12/2/25. If it sounds like something that you’d be interested in, please check it out!
Thanks so much to #NetGalley and #SpiegelandGrau by @SpotifyAudiobooks for an ALC of the audiobook in exchange for an honest review.
You can find my reviews on: Goodreads,
Instagram: @BookReviews_with_emsr and/or
My Facebook Book Club: Book Reviews With Elaine
Thanks so much for reading! And if you ‘liked’ my review, please share with your friends, & click ‘LIKE’ below… And, let me know YOUR thoughts if you read it!! 📚⭐️
And, from what I understand, this is a Debut Novel… so keep your eyes open for this author!!
And, what a wonderful time for it to be released…. When we are leading up to the holiest season on the Catholic/Christian calendar!
I felt some VERY STRONG FEELINGS while reading this! And the ONLY other time I experienced something similar was when I was walking with my kids in the vicinity of The Vatican. It was a totally Overwhelming feeling of peace, and love, and community, and GOD! … basically like God is wrapping YOU up in his arms. 😇
If you’ve ever been there, you might understand. Or, maybe it was just me???
Let me start off by saying that this takes place in 1299… so, a few years ago… (or centuries)!!
And, that life for women back then was Very Different than it is now!! 😮😳
Aleys is a young girl. She lost her Mother already, and kind of blames herself! 🤔. But her Father and her little sister are still around and very involved in her life. Aleys is gifted. She is very religious, as was her Mom, and she gets feelings… or visions… but she doesn’t really understand them, or want anyone to know about this. And she’s not really sure what these things are…but she IS very devoted to Jesus! She is only a teenager! And it frightens her at times… but she just continues to pray.
She meets a young boy/man, Finn, who is also very involved with God. She spends time with him learning Latin, and she teaches him as well. They form a strong friendship, so when he decides to leave her and enroll in a monastery, well she is totally gobsmacked! And basically mourning… She really thought she meant something to him…
As time goes on, and their home life is changing rapidly, her Dad makes plans for her…. Without ever talking to her, or telling her. And, unfortunately, she decides that this is when SHE must change her life… on her own.
So, she runs away. She finds a group of women who seem to worship God, in a different city. She really tries to fit in there. But she really misses home. At times she still has these ‘visions’ and wonders about them…
The Friar who supervises this group of women, Lucas, feels that she is truly gifted. A messenger from God. But, he is also a bit jealous…
His brother is the Bishop. And he doesn’t care for Aleys at all… But he is really NOT a nice guy.
It really opens up from here as we go on Aleys’ journey. There are beautiful moments, and there are treacherous ones. There are people who want to make her a Saint! And others who want to crucify her…. Or, burn her at the stake. 🤯
I will say it is a bit of a difficult read for all that goes on in it, especially at this time of the year, but for me, well… I loved it. And as I mentioned… beautiful time of the year for its release.
5 Bold, Bright, Intriguing, Faithful Stars for me! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
#Canticle by @JanetRichEdwards and narrated stunningly by @LucyRayner.
This one is being released TODAY!! 12/2/25. If it sounds like something that you’d be interested in, please check it out!
Thanks so much to #NetGalley and #SpiegelandGrau by @SpotifyAudiobooks for an ALC of the audiobook in exchange for an honest review.
You can find my reviews on: Goodreads,
Instagram: @BookReviews_with_emsr and/or
My Facebook Book Club: Book Reviews With Elaine
Thanks so much for reading! And if you ‘liked’ my review, please share with your friends, & click ‘LIKE’ below… And, let me know YOUR thoughts if you read it!! 📚⭐️
August 6, 2025
“The words and the notes weave a nest, complex and particular, twig and grass and feather, a home in the heart of the music, and she is held fast by their song. Oh, Mama, she thinks, this is the melody you sought.”
Earlier this summer, I attended Camp NetGalley for three days, and what a time I had! For those who don’t know, NetGalley held an online, camp-themed challenge where reviewers picked one book out of twenty available “Read Now” ARCs and provided feedback. Although I may have missed the deadline to earn the official Camp NetGalley badge, I did select Canticle, Janet Rich Edwards’ debut novel published by Spiegel & Grau, and the book was incredible.
Canticle is a work of historical fiction, set in Bruges, Belgium in the thirteenth century. It follows Aleys, a sixteen-year-old girl with a surprising number of similarities to modern teenagers, despite her unusual abilities to experience religious visions and perform what some would call miracles. The novel throws the reader headfirst into a world of strict Catholicism, softened through the vibrant lens of Aleys’s mother’s psalter, or Book of Psalms, which Aleys receives after her mother’s death. When Aleys’s father tries to arrange her marriage to a local merchant, she rebels, in typical teenage fashion, by running away and joining an even stricter order of Catholics, the Friars.
It’s at this moment when readers first get a glimpse of something twisted lurking beneath the pure Franciscan surface.
Friar Lukas, the leader of his order, is responsible for taking Aleys in, so when she leaves home and runs toward God, a moment written with so much mysticism from her point of view, Edwards makes it clear Lukas yearns for Aleys to be running toward him instead.
“His longing is an ache at the base of his spine. His hands dangle cold at the end of his wrists. If he could reach her, touch the back of her hand, her heat would travel his arm and scorch his heart. Her passion would engulf him, would burn away his failures. His sins, his doubts, would become light as cinders. He wants—he holds his breath at the thought—to be consumed in the bonfire. He doesn’t move. He watches her from the shadow, his cheeks hot with shame. He can’t say which is worse to witness, Aleys’s ardor for Christ or Christ’s ardor for Aleys.”
After Aleys’s induction to the Friars, she is sent to live with an order of Benedictines, as she is the only female Friar and is unable to inhabit the same spaces as her brothers. From Aleys’s holier-than-thou point of view, this is a tragedy, because the Benedictines are not steadfast in their commitment to God. They live in a begijnhof, a compound Bruges rumors to be a brothel, they are disliked by the city’s Bishop, and worst of all, Aleys believes living among them will not help her be noticed by God. But while Aleys is blinded by her preexisting notions, the reader is able to see the sharp contrast between the beguines and Friar Lukas.
There is a turning point for Aleys with the beguines when they hold their Midsummer festivities and celebrate with joyful song and dance. “‘Come, O sisters!’ sings the angel Ida. The women join hands. They are radiant and alive and dancing as Cecilia offers up the last line, and Aleys understands they all yearn as she does. She has been stingy, hoarding her prayer. It is not only between her and God. They are all beloved. ‘Arise, my true love, and come with me.’”
As Aleys begins to settle into life at the begijnhof, life outside its doors becomes more tumultuous, largely due to a string of miracles some claim to be the work of a saint. Eventually, Aleys finds herself no longer part of the beguines, and Friar Lukas enlists his brother, Jaan the Bishop, to grant Aleys a new place to live.
Jaan presents Aleys with the option of living in the church’s anchorhold, a single room she would commit herself to for life, and only leave upon her death. To a girl who has lost her mother, left her family, and been separated from the only people she ever felt a sense of community with, a life with God in a glorified cell seems appealing. She believes isolation will provide a reprieve from the expectations of Bruges, as well as some distance from Friar Lukas. She enjoys her time in the anchorhold, and her commitments to God and prayer allow her to experience the most vivid visions of her life. Aleys is even able to remain in contact with one of the women from the begijnhof, Marte, who serves as her maid.
But Friar Lukas and his perversions persist. Up until this point of the novel, Lukas has felt jealousy, anger, and intense sexual attraction toward Aleys. While these are all sinful, they are not necessarily taboo; however, Edwards includes an absolutely brilliant scene involving some bloody linens Marte removes from Aleys’s cell. “Lukas falls to his knees before the basket and stirs his hand in it and inhales the scent. He extracts a second strip, marked with clots. Lukas strokes his thumb along the cloth and it comes away dark, and when he rubs thumb and fingers, the ruby clot bursts, lustrous and slick. It comes from within her. It is a marvel. He takes his thumb and smears her blood into the center of his palm. His thoughts are spinning into a dark spiral of certainty. He decorates his other palm with blood. Then he yanks his sleeve to his shoulder and wraps a strip around his upper arm. Then the other. Lukas opens both hands to his God. Come now, he prays.”
For me, this really drives home one of the main points I believe Edwards wants to make with Canticle. I think Edwards uses the setting of thirteenth century Bruges to tell stories about medieval women and show how the love those women had for each other and for God eclipsed the false ardor of religious men. The beguines worked hard, embodied the psalms, and helped those in need, while the Bishop, the Pope, and Friar Lukas were self-serving in nature. Outside the religious context, this point has many modern applications. Building a community, listening to the community, taking care of the community is how to find meaning in this life, not blindly following an individual to further one’s own self-interests. Without spoiling the book, I think the ending only furthers this theme, and is well worth reading.
Before reading Canticle, I assumed I would need to possess religious beliefs to understand the novel, and I am glad to say I was wrong. This book is a work of art; its beautiful prose paints a breathtaking story and creates a reading experience I can liken only to the one Aleys has when reading her psalter. Thank you NetGalley and Speigel & Grau for providing me with the opportunity to read Canticle, and thank you Janet Rich Edwards for writing a masterful debut novel.
Earlier this summer, I attended Camp NetGalley for three days, and what a time I had! For those who don’t know, NetGalley held an online, camp-themed challenge where reviewers picked one book out of twenty available “Read Now” ARCs and provided feedback. Although I may have missed the deadline to earn the official Camp NetGalley badge, I did select Canticle, Janet Rich Edwards’ debut novel published by Spiegel & Grau, and the book was incredible.
Canticle is a work of historical fiction, set in Bruges, Belgium in the thirteenth century. It follows Aleys, a sixteen-year-old girl with a surprising number of similarities to modern teenagers, despite her unusual abilities to experience religious visions and perform what some would call miracles. The novel throws the reader headfirst into a world of strict Catholicism, softened through the vibrant lens of Aleys’s mother’s psalter, or Book of Psalms, which Aleys receives after her mother’s death. When Aleys’s father tries to arrange her marriage to a local merchant, she rebels, in typical teenage fashion, by running away and joining an even stricter order of Catholics, the Friars.
It’s at this moment when readers first get a glimpse of something twisted lurking beneath the pure Franciscan surface.
Friar Lukas, the leader of his order, is responsible for taking Aleys in, so when she leaves home and runs toward God, a moment written with so much mysticism from her point of view, Edwards makes it clear Lukas yearns for Aleys to be running toward him instead.
“His longing is an ache at the base of his spine. His hands dangle cold at the end of his wrists. If he could reach her, touch the back of her hand, her heat would travel his arm and scorch his heart. Her passion would engulf him, would burn away his failures. His sins, his doubts, would become light as cinders. He wants—he holds his breath at the thought—to be consumed in the bonfire. He doesn’t move. He watches her from the shadow, his cheeks hot with shame. He can’t say which is worse to witness, Aleys’s ardor for Christ or Christ’s ardor for Aleys.”
After Aleys’s induction to the Friars, she is sent to live with an order of Benedictines, as she is the only female Friar and is unable to inhabit the same spaces as her brothers. From Aleys’s holier-than-thou point of view, this is a tragedy, because the Benedictines are not steadfast in their commitment to God. They live in a begijnhof, a compound Bruges rumors to be a brothel, they are disliked by the city’s Bishop, and worst of all, Aleys believes living among them will not help her be noticed by God. But while Aleys is blinded by her preexisting notions, the reader is able to see the sharp contrast between the beguines and Friar Lukas.
There is a turning point for Aleys with the beguines when they hold their Midsummer festivities and celebrate with joyful song and dance. “‘Come, O sisters!’ sings the angel Ida. The women join hands. They are radiant and alive and dancing as Cecilia offers up the last line, and Aleys understands they all yearn as she does. She has been stingy, hoarding her prayer. It is not only between her and God. They are all beloved. ‘Arise, my true love, and come with me.’”
As Aleys begins to settle into life at the begijnhof, life outside its doors becomes more tumultuous, largely due to a string of miracles some claim to be the work of a saint. Eventually, Aleys finds herself no longer part of the beguines, and Friar Lukas enlists his brother, Jaan the Bishop, to grant Aleys a new place to live.
Jaan presents Aleys with the option of living in the church’s anchorhold, a single room she would commit herself to for life, and only leave upon her death. To a girl who has lost her mother, left her family, and been separated from the only people she ever felt a sense of community with, a life with God in a glorified cell seems appealing. She believes isolation will provide a reprieve from the expectations of Bruges, as well as some distance from Friar Lukas. She enjoys her time in the anchorhold, and her commitments to God and prayer allow her to experience the most vivid visions of her life. Aleys is even able to remain in contact with one of the women from the begijnhof, Marte, who serves as her maid.
But Friar Lukas and his perversions persist. Up until this point of the novel, Lukas has felt jealousy, anger, and intense sexual attraction toward Aleys. While these are all sinful, they are not necessarily taboo; however, Edwards includes an absolutely brilliant scene involving some bloody linens Marte removes from Aleys’s cell. “Lukas falls to his knees before the basket and stirs his hand in it and inhales the scent. He extracts a second strip, marked with clots. Lukas strokes his thumb along the cloth and it comes away dark, and when he rubs thumb and fingers, the ruby clot bursts, lustrous and slick. It comes from within her. It is a marvel. He takes his thumb and smears her blood into the center of his palm. His thoughts are spinning into a dark spiral of certainty. He decorates his other palm with blood. Then he yanks his sleeve to his shoulder and wraps a strip around his upper arm. Then the other. Lukas opens both hands to his God. Come now, he prays.”
For me, this really drives home one of the main points I believe Edwards wants to make with Canticle. I think Edwards uses the setting of thirteenth century Bruges to tell stories about medieval women and show how the love those women had for each other and for God eclipsed the false ardor of religious men. The beguines worked hard, embodied the psalms, and helped those in need, while the Bishop, the Pope, and Friar Lukas were self-serving in nature. Outside the religious context, this point has many modern applications. Building a community, listening to the community, taking care of the community is how to find meaning in this life, not blindly following an individual to further one’s own self-interests. Without spoiling the book, I think the ending only furthers this theme, and is well worth reading.
Before reading Canticle, I assumed I would need to possess religious beliefs to understand the novel, and I am glad to say I was wrong. This book is a work of art; its beautiful prose paints a breathtaking story and creates a reading experience I can liken only to the one Aleys has when reading her psalter. Thank you NetGalley and Speigel & Grau for providing me with the opportunity to read Canticle, and thank you Janet Rich Edwards for writing a masterful debut novel.
December 1, 2025
I was not expecting this LUMINOUS piece of medieval historical fiction to have so much gravity, pulling my soul in and not letting up for a second, even through the acknowledgements. Last year, reading through and studying medieval literature written by women, I was fascinated by the lives of anchoresses and saints. But I believe this book will especially captivate those who have never been introduced to the lives of those brave souls. It is a spectacular story and an education like none other.
Aleys has always felt the pull of God's divine hand. She knows normal kids don't crave their mothers reading the psalter to them. She soon finds a friend named Finn to study Latin with her in secret. Their bond is inseparable, and just as Aleys thinks there could be something more to their relationship, her world falls apart. Though she has a loving family, times are tough, and her father arranges a marriage between her and a man who will set her family up to never want again. Aleys is mortified and runs away from everything she knows, finding sanctuary among the independent beguine women. She misses Finn and her family, but finds solace in the company of these women. But the beguines draw the attention of the ambitious bishop through their illegal translations of scripture and the miracles happening on their grounds. Now, Aleys is in danger and must run into the arms of a greater Love.
This work is rare, fresh, and solid. I found each part of the protagonist's life to be constantly captivating. The flow of this storyline is genius. It invited me to examine my own faith - to reflect on what I value most and what I'm willing to do to protect it. I was drawn into the identity of Aleys and where she found her strength - in WHOM she found her strength. This faith journey is powerful.
Thank you, NetGalley, Janet Rich Edwards, and Spiegel & Grau for this radiant ARC in exchange for my honest review.
Aleys has always felt the pull of God's divine hand. She knows normal kids don't crave their mothers reading the psalter to them. She soon finds a friend named Finn to study Latin with her in secret. Their bond is inseparable, and just as Aleys thinks there could be something more to their relationship, her world falls apart. Though she has a loving family, times are tough, and her father arranges a marriage between her and a man who will set her family up to never want again. Aleys is mortified and runs away from everything she knows, finding sanctuary among the independent beguine women. She misses Finn and her family, but finds solace in the company of these women. But the beguines draw the attention of the ambitious bishop through their illegal translations of scripture and the miracles happening on their grounds. Now, Aleys is in danger and must run into the arms of a greater Love.
This work is rare, fresh, and solid. I found each part of the protagonist's life to be constantly captivating. The flow of this storyline is genius. It invited me to examine my own faith - to reflect on what I value most and what I'm willing to do to protect it. I was drawn into the identity of Aleys and where she found her strength - in WHOM she found her strength. This faith journey is powerful.
Thank you, NetGalley, Janet Rich Edwards, and Spiegel & Grau for this radiant ARC in exchange for my honest review.
December 11, 2025
This was an interesting story about faith, centering on a main character who is eager to serve God. Since she is only sixteen, parts of the story definitely read like YA, especially because she starts out quite naive and stubborn. There is also an intriguing thread about whether she can actually perform miracles or if it is simply the power of belief.
The first half felt a bit slow for me, but things pick up in the second half as we watch her move through different stages of questioning and reaffirming her faith. Mixed into all this are elements of church politics, though the antagonists felt too broadly drawn and lacked nuance.
I really liked the 13th century setting and actually wish the book had leaned into that more. The story touches on church politics and gender politics, but neither felt fully explored and overall I think the narrative needed a bit more depth and dimension. I also would have loved richer descriptions of Bruges. Aside from the canals, nothing about the city really stuck with me. Overall, this was a perfectly fine story, I just wanted a little more from it.
The first half felt a bit slow for me, but things pick up in the second half as we watch her move through different stages of questioning and reaffirming her faith. Mixed into all this are elements of church politics, though the antagonists felt too broadly drawn and lacked nuance.
I really liked the 13th century setting and actually wish the book had leaned into that more. The story touches on church politics and gender politics, but neither felt fully explored and overall I think the narrative needed a bit more depth and dimension. I also would have loved richer descriptions of Bruges. Aside from the canals, nothing about the city really stuck with me. Overall, this was a perfectly fine story, I just wanted a little more from it.
December 11, 2025
The madness of religious zeal is beautifully described in this historical fiction. Centered in Brugge, a city in Flanders in the 13th century, we meet a woman who is devoted to her faith and will do anything to be with God, her beloved.
I visited Bruges this summer and saw the Begijnhof, where the sisters lived. It is still occupied today and has the air of reverence and peace.
This was a lovely book and I am so glad I read it.
I visited Bruges this summer and saw the Begijnhof, where the sisters lived. It is still occupied today and has the air of reverence and peace.
This was a lovely book and I am so glad I read it.
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