One of the reasons I adore historical fiction so much is because I am absolutely fascinated by how people lived well before modern times. Even something as recent as the 1930s and 1940s are fascinating to me because of how quickly our world has changed with the advent of televisions, telephones, the internet, and smartphones.
But usually historical fiction stays in pretty safe waters, generally no earlier than the 1700s because people didn't really start writing down what life was like until they had a bit more leisure time. So to find a book that details the everyday life of people in medieval England was so very intriguing to me.
This novel is incredible. It might not be the best written, but it brings to life the daily grind lived by Marion Carpenter and her family so very well. A friend of mine read this in college, and according to her professor this is a very accurate portrayal of life in medieval England. We see how interconnected everyone's lives are in the village, how they owed tribute to the Hall, who would in turn protect them and care for them if disaster struck. We're even treated to some of the stories the old folks tell at festivals, times of true famine when babies and the elderly died so frequently, when even hale men who had been healthy a season before were reduced to a shadow of their former selves. We see through Marion's eyes how close these people lived to starvation; they were just one crop, one harvest away from not surviving. The intense worry and anxiety caused by the lack of a salt delivery, which would allow the villagers to put up meat for the winter, is proof of this.
After finishing this book, done while I listened to my modern washer and dryer clean my towels for me, I became very thankful that I live in a time when life is so easy. For Marion, nothing ever smelled sweet or clean; clothes were worn regardless of the spills and stains on them (including bodily excretions) because it was either too wet or too cold to wash them. My home is snug and dry on this crisp fall day, where Marion could do nothing more than to sit in near stupefaction through the winter days because she could never get warm enough to stir herself. We had a cord of wood delivered to our home a couple of months ago, allowing us a fire whenever we feel like it; I don't have to send my small child out to gather firewood in the forest, without which we would freeze with no other heating source. My own bed, that I share with just my husband and not my children, is warm and dry, even with the slight draft coming in from the window above our head; it's not sodden and wet and mildewy, and the straw underneath broken down. I have food aplenty in my fridge, my freezer, my pantry, and all I have to do is head to the grocery store to get more. I don't have to glare at my husband for having an extra piece of bread and cheese because our flour is running so low that I might not be able to make another batch of bread.
While there's a lot of tragedy that touches Marion's life (deaths of babies and children and friends), she also manages to enjoy the beauty of her surroundings when she can. She sees a beautiful feather and marvels over it, feels the warmth of a spring breeze and enjoys it, takes pleasure in the amusement her baby girl finds for herself. It's definitely eye-opening to think of a life where most of the scholarly pursuits mean very little, that all of one's energy and brainpower is solely focused on survival from one season to the next.
I would highly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a story about a strong woman persevering in the face of tough odds, or anyone who has a curiosity about life in the Middle Ages.