Voleva solo essere libera. È diventata fuoco, vento, speranza.
«Il nuovo capolavoro» Daily Mail
Artemisia Gentileschi è una bambina, Beatrice Cenci una giovane donna quando le loro vite si incrociano per un breve momento. Non si conoscono, non si parlano, e non si vedranno mai più. Eppure, come un’ossessione, quell’incontro inseguirà Artemisia per anni, fino a ispirarle uno dei suoi dipinti più celebrati. Dovrà passare ancora molto tempo prima che la Storia sappia riconoscere alle donne allora chiamate peccatrici la statura di eroine.
Giovane figlia della nobile casata dei Cenci, Beatrice ha una mente brillante e sete di libertà, eppure è destinata a una vita di dorata nella Roma di fine Cinquecento, le donne, nei lussuosi palazzi come nelle dimore più umili, vivono esistenze invisibili e silenziose, pulsanti di sogni, sofferenze e aspirazioni di cui gli uomini non hanno sentore. Quando il fratello viene ucciso da una casata rivale, il dispotico e perverso padre la rinchiude, insieme al resto della famiglia, a La Rocca, un inaccessibile castello fortificato, in cima a una vetta, a giorni di viaggio dalla capitale. Isolata e in balìa della violenza e della paranoia del genitore, la ragazza si sente sempre più oppressa e insofferente. Soprattutto quando, superando ogni divieto, l’amore la travolge, sovvertendo il destino di tutti.
Lo straordinario romanzo di una ragazza determinata a non sottomettersi alla violenza degli uomini, che per le donne dei secoli a venire diverrà icona di ribellione, resilienza e libertà.
Elizabeth Fremantle is the critically acclaimed author of Tudor and Elizabethan set novels: Queen's Gambit, Sisters of Treason, Watch the Lady and Times Books of the Year: The Girl in the Glass Tower and The Poison Bed, a historical thriller written under the name EC Fremantle described as 'a Jacobean Gone Girl.'
Her latest novel is The Honey and the Sting, published August 6th 2020 as EC Fremantle
Oh Beatrice, you were so doomed by the narrative. An intense look into an incredibly tragic young woman’s life. While this is a work of fiction, this book still gives Beatrice Cenci a voice. Fremantle does this by producing a highly researched and sensitive story of survival, love, and death. In this book, Beatrice is given a sense of agency that the historical records do not.
This is a heavy book; Beatrice’s life is tragic and filled with dark themes. At times, I felt truly unwell reading. But there were little bursts of light in the forms of Beatrice’s relationship with her stepmother, her lover and her friends.
This story is also full of classical references that I enjoyed. Women in the past are often portrayed as uneducated or ignorant due to the lower literacy rates. However, for a woman of Beatrice’s background, it made perfect sense for her to be well read and academically versed. I think it added a wonderful layer to her character that people forget.
This book is wonderfully and sensitively researched; it presents a darker picture of 16th century Italy. This period of European history was full of tumultuous moments and Beatrice was one of them.
Thank you to the publisher for this arc. All thoughts are my own.
This is the true and tragic tale of Beatrice Centi. A voice that has every right to be heard, to be understood, and to be judged? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Rome, 1599. Beatrice yearns to finally step out of the haunting, ruthless, abusive shadow that her father casts not only upon herself but all those she loves, and more besides, and after tragedy strikes, her father decides he must swiftly spirit them away in order to lay low from the enemies he continues to make. It is within the confines of her new prison that Olympio, the castles keeper, becomes not only her lifeline but also something much more dear to her as love starts to grow around the pair like creeping ivy, pulling them together, altering Beatrice’s future for better and for worse. Yet as she struggles to hide her adoration for Olympio from her brutish, monstrous father, Beatrice comes to the realisation that he cannot continue his relentless control of her whole being, and it is then Beatrice orchestrates his demise, for it is truly time for judgement to be passed on a soul so dark it is far beyond redemption. And it will be without mercy or guilt. For he has done things to her that would make the devil himself question his own morals. But is it murder most foul or vengeance most just? Was she a helpless victim or resolute heroine? That is up to you to decide… An evocatively ambitious read that will leave you gasping for breath all the way through to its stunning conclusion! A must-read!
In Beatrice Cenci, the city of Rome had someone to believe in, someone who felt more humane than a justice system holding them captive by criminal tyrants excused by wealth and power, whose assets were surrendered by the Papal State if foul play could be determined through illegitimate means. In Beatrice Cenci, Rome found a voice. One of rising fury and vengeance against poisonous propaganda.
In Beatrice Cenci, Rome saw a sparkle of hope. A speck of an alternative power. One that continues to strengthen with each passing day.
Amo le letture al femminile e questo romanzo del genere narrativa storica contemporanea ha attirato la mia attenzione fin da subito. Soprattutto l'intreccio della vita di due donne resilienti, incredibilmente forti e combattive, che nei secoli ancora affascinano il lettore per le vicende e i cosiddetti peccati ad esse addebbitati che hanno fatto scalpore nelle epoche in cui sono vissute, condanne terribili che ne hanno segnato il destino.
Un romanzo intenso anche sul piano politico, dalla prosa delicata e profonda che dona alla narrazione, così come la conosciamo, una chiave di lettura diversa, più riflessiva e giusta. La peccatrice é un'opera di finzione costruita sullo scheletro di una storia vera, che racconta come la donna nel Cinquecento fosse costretta a rigorosa castità. Il libro evidenzia anche l'importante lotta per la libertà e l'arte in un'epoca ostile.
A wonderfully moving work of historical fiction inspired by the real-life figure of Beatrice Cenci. Set in Renaissance Rome, it follows the tragic familial drama of the Cenci family, unfolding slowly while ever circling questions of sin, innocence, and justice.
Sinners marks the second feminist retelling by Elizabeth Fremantle that I've had the pleasure of reading, and it pairs seamlessly with Disobedient. I'd recommend reading Sinners first, however, as the opening scene of Disobedient somewhat spoils its ending for those not aware of the real historical events (if I remember correctly). That said, both novels stand brilliantly on their own, evoking rage, sorrow, and sympathy in equal measure.
Fremantle excels at crafting rich, compelling interior lives for her characters. Their thoughts and motivations feel deeply authentic, making them wonderfully complex and ensuring that the tragedies they endure are all the more devastating to witness.
"Fate is driving me to bring an end to the curse of my family... I have not been made strong-willed for no purpose. Strength is in my nature. I am the woman holding the lion's jaws open, driven by some high power, some ancient goddess of natural order to right all the wrongs stitched into the weft of my family."
An amazing read! I’m telling you I was there!! I was there in that castle and I was Bea! Incredible storytelling! And to think it was inspired by a true story. My only qualm is that some bits felt dragged on and I found myself wishing for a fast forward button - maybe a fault of my own attention span though!
Elizabeth Fremantle is an author I’ve been following since her first book, Queen’s Gambit, was published in 2013. I’ve enjoyed all of her novels, to varying degrees, but I think her latest one, Sinners, is the best so far. It’s the story of the Italian noblewoman, Beatrice Cenci, and is a very dark and powerful read.
The book begins in Rome in 1598 with Beatrice discovering the dead body of her brother Rocco, a victim of one of her father’s long-running feuds. To avoid any further retaliations, the family flee to La Rocca, a hunting lodge in the mountains, but this proves not to be a place of safety for Beatrice as her father, Francesco Cenci, becomes increasingly cruel and unpredictable, abusing her physically, verbally and sexually. Her stepmother, Lucrezia, and younger half-brother, Bernardo, are also targets for his brutal violence and abuse, while her other brother, Giacomo, who is gay, remains estranged from the family, forced to communicate with Beatrice in secret.
As life behind the walls of La Rocca becomes more and more unbearable, Beatrice finds some solace in her growing friendship with Olimpio Calvetti, one of her father’s servants. When she becomes pregnant with Olimpio’s child, Beatrice fears for their lives if her father learns the truth – especially if he also learns that Beatrice has been reporting him to the authorities for his abusive behaviour! And so Beatrice comes up with a plan which, if it works, could set them all free, but if it fails could leave them in even more danger than before.
As you’ll be able to tell, Sinners is not an easy or comfortable book to read. Francesco Cenci is one of the most wicked, depraved characters you’re likely to come across in fiction and the way he treats his wife and children is unimaginably cruel. Knowing that he was a real person and that his family really did suffer at his hands makes it even more horrible to read about. It also makes it easy for the reader to have sympathy for Beatrice when she decides to take action, although Fremantle explains in her author’s note that her intention in writing the book was to portray Beatrice as a complex woman who is both innocent and guilty, saint and sinner, something which I think she achieves.
Fremantle also uses her author’s note to clarify where the book sticks to historical fact and where she uses her imagination to produce a compelling work of fiction. I found it particularly fascinating to read about the famous portrait of Beatrice Cenci, attributed to Guido Reni, which is now thought to be by Ginevra Cantofoli and maybe not even a portrait of Beatrice at all. Fremantle works the painting of the portrait into the plot in an interesting way, showing how it was used to evoke sympathy for Beatrice from the public.
I love the way Fremantle recreates the feel of late-16th century Italy and although it’s set a decade or two earlier, Sinners makes a good companion novel to Disobedient, her book about Artemisia Gentileschi. Artemisia’s story even overlaps with Beatrice’s in the first chapter. I’m looking forward to seeing who and what Fremantle decides to write about next!
This is the first book by Elizabeth fremantle that I have read but will certainly not be my last. I had never heard of Beatrice Cenci prior to reading this novel but the authors descriptions bring her story to life to the point you feel the emotions that Beatrice is.
The novel is so well written that you can picture every scene. I highly recommend this to everyone.
Sinners by Elizabeth Fremantle, tells the story of Beatrice Cenci, an aristocrat whose defiance of her tyrannical father shook 16th century Rome. I went in to this novel expecting Beatrice Cenci the martyr, the icon of doomed female resistance. What I found was something more intimate, a first-person narrative that forces us to live inside her defiance, her fear, her fury and I was surprised at how family-centred the novel was. Bernardo, Beatrice’s autistic brother, Lucrezia her step-mother, the idea of some many innocent people caught in the crossfire of Francesco Cenci’s cruelty.
Like in Disobedient and The Queen’s Gambit, Fremantle writes proto-feminist history, refusing the virgin/whore binary, refusing neat moral narratives. Instead, she gives us women whose resistance is punished because it disrupts the patriarchal status quo. That’s what makes this book and her previous works so compelling. It acknowledges the brutal limits of female agency while leaving space for rage, survival, and shadow. Where to exist outside of submission meant inevitable retribution, Beatrice’s rebellion against her father is never romanticised; it is necessary, human and unbearably costly.
Fremantle’s prose is addictive, her rhythm and atmosphere capturing Renaissance Rome in a way that feels lived rather than described. That’s why she’s an automatic grab for me when it comes to historical fiction that is as thoughtful as it is beautifully written.
Sinners is a dark, resonant exploration of resistance, punishment and survival. I will read whatever Elizabeth Fremantle writes because her voice is one of the few in historical fiction that makes the past feel both beautifully alive and uncomfortably relevant.
Thank you to the author, NetGalley and MichaelJBooks for this ARC
** 4.75 stars** I really enjoyed this book, despite its very dark subject matter- the dramatised events of the life of Beatrice Cenci- it was engaging and powerful. It was fascinating to hear of her story, from her imagined perspective showing that living in 16th century Europe as a woman was not a life to be envied.
This book ripped out my heart in a good kind of way. I can't stop thinking about how it didn't matter that the story is set 400+ years ago, it is a story that so many woman can relate to today (give or take a few things). Beautifully written and perfectly paced, an engrossing and compassionate retelling of Beatrice tragic story.
*Thank you to the publisher for sending me an early copy of this to review!*
With this being blurbed by Elodie Harper and Jennifer Saint, I was expecting a story of a similar calibre that would absolutely blow me away. Sadly, I was a little bit disappointed by what I found here.
I was really excited by the opening chapters - we have a young woman challenging authority and the patriarchy, unpicking the superficial hypocrisy holding the power dynamics at play together. She’s very strong minded and level headed, and her internal monologue was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, witty, and very calculating - I really thought Beatrice was going to be an absolute powerhouse of a narrator to carry this story. Sadly, her sparkle seemed to dull quite quickly. I found myself disinterested by what was happening here overall, which was such a shame as this promised a powerful reclamation of her overlooked story.
The actual beats and twists of the plot are so interesting, but there was something lacking in the execution. The pacing was extremely slow, and for quite a chunky book this was weighing it down. The plot felt very jumpy and all over the place, something was just deeply off to me about how everything was unfolded. It felt unsynchronised. I don’t think it helped that none of the characterwork was strong enough also, they all felt like two dimensional caricatures. I feel like there wasn’t a character other than Beatrice who had a tangible, palpable personality and arc. Even her dad, who was such a prominent pawn on the board, felt devoid of any descriptor other than disgusting.
Alongside the main bulk of the story, we have a sort of forbidden romance subplot. I think I struggled caring about the plot so much, because the actual igniting moments that foreshadow and set alight the rest of the chaos that unfolds felt poorly developed. Beatrice just ogles this man every other page quite explicitly, and then they suddenly rush to get together, and then she’s immediately faced with the issue of her pregnancy. The politics of it all should be so complex, this should be such a tense and dread filled complication of the plot, but I felt nothing. It was such a weak execution of the ideas, and I’m sad at how flat it felt. The emotion should have only continued to heighten from that point, but we plateaued far too soon and I didn’t care.
An author I’ll give another shot to in the future because I see potential there, but not as fierce a story as I’d hoped.
"𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥'𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐨 è 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐢 è 𝐬𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐨."
Beatrice Cenci è una ragazza ribelle, impulsiva, curiosa e dal carattere forte. Tornata in famiglia, a Roma, dopo l'educazione ricevuta in convento, inizia a subire gli abusi e le violenze del padre Francesco, con cui si trasferisce alla rocca di Petrella Salto. Qui viene segregata in una stanza con la matrigna Lucrezia, iniziando a maturare un profondo desiderio di morte nei confronti della figura paterna.
È un romanzo storico intenso incentrato sulla figura di Beatrice Cenci, un personaggio che ancora oggi conserva un forte alone di mistero. La sua vicenda, sospesa tra realtà documentata e narrazione popolare, continua ad interrogare lettori e studiosi. L'autrice Elizabeth Fremantle costruisce il romanzo partendo da basi storiche solide, ma si concede delle libertà intrecciando i fatti con la finzione, privilegiando alcune interpretazioni rispetto ad altre ed introducendo anche dei personaggi inventati. Ciò che emerge con forza è il tema della violenza domestica: è storicamente attestato che Beatrice subì abusi e soprusi da parte del padre, una figura brutale e tirannica. Tuttavia, gli aspetti più estremi, come lo stupro, non sono documentati e rimangono oggetto di dibattito e rielaborazione narrativa. Beatrice venne giustiziata a Roma nel 1599, dopo essere stata accusata, insieme ad altri componenti della famiglia, di parricidio. La sua storia ha attraversato i secoli, ispirando anche l'arte: si dice che Artemisia Gentileschi ne fu molto colpita, probabilmente perché assistette da bambina alla sua esecuzione. Una leggenda dice che il suo spirito appaia ogni anno, nella notte tra il 10 e l'11 settembre, anniversario della sua esecuzione, sul ponte vicino a Castel Sant'Angelo. Un elemento particolarmente efficace del libro è la narrazione in prima persona, che rende il racconto ancora più intimo e coinvolgente. Il lettore viene immerso direttamente nella mente di Beatrice, condividendone paure, pensieri e contraddizioni. La sua figura emerge come profondamente segnata dalla violenza, ma al tempo stesso dotata di una forza interiore incredibile, che cerca di resistere e dare senso alla propria condizione. La tensione emotiva è costante e accompagna il lettore in un'atmosfera cupa, quasi soffocante, che restituisce con grande efficacia la sensazione di prigionia, fisica e psicologica, in cui la giovane è costretta a vivere. Il libro è profondamente intriso di sentimento e si distingue per una forte componente emotiva. Accanto alla violenza trova spazio anche una dimensione più romantica, fatta però di una passione tormentata, segnata dalle circostanze, dalla paura, dalla separazione, che rendono la storia ancora più drammatica e struggente. La trama segue uno sviluppo piuttosto lineare dal punto di vista cronologico con un unico iniziale salto temporale di 12 anni, che porta Beatrice dall'infanzia all'adolescenza. Vi sono poi alcune brevi digressioni legate ai ricordi e momenti in cui emerge una componente quasi onirica, che approfondisce ancora di più la dimensione interiore della protagonista. La scrittura dell'autrice prevede un'alternanza tra frasi brevi, crude, che colpiscono come schiaffi e danno ritmo alla lettura, e momenti più distesi e lirici, che si soffermano sulla descrizione dell'ambientazione o su riflessioni più profonde. Tra storia e immaginazione, questo libro restituisce voce ad una figura senza tempo, lasciando sospeso il confine tra colpa ed innocenza, in una storia che ferisce e commuove, mettendo al centro una figura femminile profondamente umana.
3.5⭐️ this book lulls you into a false sense of security and then violently dashes it in the last 30%. As soon as you read the blurb you know where the story is going, a woman taking control of her own life has never historically ended well. Also I’m pretty sure I knew of Beatrice Cenci, and still managed to gaslight myself that it would end differently.
My main qualm is a lot of things happened really quickly so you don’t really sit in the emotional depth of them for long, events that should have been pivotal and emotional were over in a page or two, not letting us feel the true weight.
Oggi sono qui per parlarvi di un'altra bellissima opera arrivata nelle nostre librerie e online. Come sapete sono una grande amante del genere, quindi potevo mai farmela scappare? Assolutamente no. La peccatrice è un romanzo che respira come un affresco barocco: denso, sensuale, tragico, attraversato da una luce che illumina e brucia allo stesso tempo. È la storia di due donne che non si sono mai davvero incontrate, eppure si sfiorano attraverso i secoli come due fiamme che riconoscono la stessa oscurità. Artemisia Gentileschi e Beatrice Cenci: una bambina e una giovane donna, separate dal destino ma unite da un dolore che la Storia ha troppo a lungo chiamato peccato. Il romanzo parte da un istante quasi invisibile: un incontro fugace, uno sguardo che non diventa parola. Artemisia è ancora una bambina, Beatrice una giovane donna già segnata da un destino crudele. Non si parlano, non si conoscono, eppure quell’immagine (la figura di Beatrice), la sua grazia ferita, la sua ribellione silenziosa, diventa per Artemisia un’ossessione, un seme che germoglierà anni dopo in uno dei suoi dipinti più celebri. È come se Beatrice, con la sua storia di violenza e resistenza, avesse lasciato un’impronta invisibile sulla pelle dell’artista. La Roma di fine Cinquecento è un mondo che il romanzo restituisce con una precisione sensoriale: palazzi sontuosi che nascondono crudeltà indicibili, vicoli dove le donne camminano in silenzio, vite femminili che scorrono come fiumi sotterranei, invisibili agli occhi degli uomini. Beatrice Cenci, giovane nobile dalla mente brillante e dalla sete di libertà, è intrappolata in questo sistema. Destinata a una vita di insignificanza dorata, viene invece risucchiata in un incubo quando il padre, dispotico, paranoico, perverso, la rinchiude con la famiglia a La Rocca, un castello isolato, lontano da tutto. È qui che il romanzo diventa un crescendo di tensione emotiva: la prigionia, la violenza, la paura, ma anche la nascita di un amore proibito che sovverte ogni regola. Beatrice è una figura tragica e luminosa, una giovane donna che rifiuta di piegarsi, che osa desiderare, che osa immaginare un destino diverso. E proprio questo desiderio diventa la scintilla che cambierà tutto. Artemisia, dall’altra parte della narrazione, cresce, soffre, lotta. Anche lei conoscerà la violenza, anche lei verrà giudicata peccatrice, anche lei dovrà trasformare il dolore in arte. Il romanzo intreccia le loro vite come due fili di un tessuto antico: non si toccano mai davvero, ma vibrano all’unisono. Artemisia dipinge ciò che Beatrice ha vissuto. Beatrice diventa simbolo di ciò che Artemisia diventerà.
“Le chiamavano peccatrici, ma erano solo donne che avevano osato vivere.”
La peccatrice è un’opera potente, poetica, profondamente politica. Non è solo un romanzo storico: è un atto di restituzione. Ridà voce a chi è stata zittita, ridà dignità a chi è stata condannata, ridà luce a chi è stata nascosta nell’ombra. Una lettura che commuove, indigna, ispira. Un omaggio alla forza delle donne che la Storia ha voluto spezzare, e che invece continuano a brillare.
Elizabeth Fremantle firma un romanzo storico di rara profondità, capace di unire il rigore della ricostruzione alla forza emotiva di una narrazione moderna. La trama si snoda attorno a un incontro fugace, quasi un'allucinazione: lo sguardo tra una giovanissima Artemisia Gentileschi e Beatrice Cenci. Un istante che non si ripeterà mai più, ma che rimarrà inciso nell'anima di Artemisia come un'ossessione, fino a ispirare i suoi capolavori più celebri.
Beatrice Cenci è una giovane donna dalla mente vivida, intrappolata in una vita di insignificanza forzata. Quando la tragedia colpisce la sua casata e il padre dispotico decide di rinchiudere la famiglia a La Rocca, un castello inaccessibile lontano dai fasti di Roma, la sua esistenza si trasforma in un incubo di isolamento e violenza. In quella fortezza isolata, Beatrice sperimenta la paranoia e la crudeltà di un genitore che la considera una proprietà, non un essere umano.
Ma la forza di Beatrice risiede nella sua incapacità di piegarsi. Nonostante le mura della Rocca e i divieti paterni, la ragazza si lascia travolgere da un amore che diventa la sua unica via di fuga psicologica, un atto di disobbedienza suprema che sovverte il destino di tutti. Fremantle descrive con una sensibilità struggente il passaggio di Beatrice da vittima a eroina, mostrandoci come la "peccatrice" agli occhi dei contemporanei fosse in realtà una donna determinata a difendere la propria libertà a ogni costo.
Ciò che rende questo libro straordinario è il modo in cui celebra le vite invisibili. L'autrice dà voce a tutte quelle donne che, nei secoli, hanno vissuto pulsando di sogni e aspirazioni di cui gli uomini non avevano alcun sentore. La narrazione è intrisa di un sentimento potente: si avverte la rabbia per l'ingiustizia, ma anche l'ammirazione per una resilienza che non conosce confini temporali. Vedere Artemisia che, anni dopo, trasforma il trauma e il ricordo di Beatrice in arte è il riscatto finale di cui la Storia aveva bisogno.
Ci sono storie che restano sotto pelle. La peccatrice di Elizabeth Fremantle è una di quelle. Nella Roma del Cinquecento, le vite di Artemisia Gentileschi e Beatrice Cenci si sfiorano appena eppure basta un attimo per lasciare un segno destinato a durare nel tempo. Beatrice è una giovane donna intrappolata in una realtà fatta di paura e silenzio, ma dentro di lei brucia un desiderio fortissimo di libertà. La sua è una storia dura, a tratti dolorosa, ma anche incredibilmente potente. E poi c’è Artemisia, che osserva, assorbe, trasforma. Perché certe storie non finiscono: diventano arte, memoria, voce. Un romanzo che parla di donne, di coraggio e di quanto possa costare scegliere se stesse. Se amate le storie intense e cariche di emozione, questo libro vi colpirà
A masterpiece. A dark, harrowing, and emotional read, that gives light to the darkness of the lives of this family and those of that period of history. It is truly appalling and hard to read what went on at this time. But the writing so expertly draws you into the lives of the characters, painting them so vividly, giving possible motivations and nuance. No one is truly saint, no one is truly sinner, they are all simply human. The balance of good and sin just sway more strongly in one direction or another for each of them.
I was moved to tears by this story. I know I will not stop thinking about them for a long time. It makes you question morality, what is sin, and forgiveness.
This was my first book of the author, and it certainly will not be the last.
DNF at 90 pages. This may well be as compelling as story as the blurb promises, but the 21st century language bounced me out on every page. The problem for me is that if the author doesn't even try to moderate her modern language (rifles, bruisers, earshot etc) and constantly puts her heroine in situations which simply wouldn't have happened (high born Roman woman casually chatting with the housekeeper about her brutal authoritarian father's childhood), then I feel like I have lost all trust that she (the author) has put any effort into writing an authentic historical novel. I hate to be so harsh, but what I read had so much promise and I feel terribly let down by the laziness of the writing.
Given the blurb, this was actually rather underwhelming in many aspects- characterisation, plotting, pacing, the actual writing style. I was relieved for it to be over tbh, a bit disappointing though as it had plentiful opportunity to achieve much more than it did. The focal character was neither endearing nor sympathetic and so much happened to her passively (which is also a problem of the writing style). I think more editing and a different writing style would have helped this significantly.
Lost the will to live in the first quarter of the book. This story needed a prologue of sorts to properly engage the reader. As it is, I had no particular interest in finding out the fate of any of the characters.
First and foremost, thank you so much to Penguin Michael Joseph for this ARC. I really appreciate it.
Oh. My. God.
This book details the story of what happens when a girl, and her family, are pushed beyond breaking point by a vicious, domineering, evil man, who does things unto people that should never be done. It is a heartbreaking, emotional, and complex story, which was made even more devastating by the fact that it was inspired by the case of Beatrice Cenci in 1599, who was executed for the murder of her father, who was, by all accounts, a monster.
Fremantle manages to weave a complex narrative through Beatrice's eyes; Beatrice, who is presented as a multidimensional figure. She is not just a victim of her father's cruel actions, but she is also not just a murderer; she took control in the only way she - and the rest of her family, including her stepmother, brothers, and servant - could, taking happiness where she can find it. Namely, in her father's servant, Olimpio.
Though Beatrice does have an affair with Olimpio, which results in a baby, which in turn brings the story to its crescendo, it is not a love story. Don't expect to find much romance in this story. This story, as I said earlier, is a story about what happens when a family is pushed to its' breaking point.
(SPOILER WARNING HERE)
Beyond her portrayal of Beatrice, Fremantle manages to illicit sympathy for all of the victims of Beatrice's father. For much of the story, the narrative has us believe that Beatrice's servant Ilaria told her father of her pregnancy, but despite Beatrice being the POV character, you still feel sympathy for her, because Fremantle has made it clear that Beatrice's father, who is never named from what I can recall, is an evil man.
It is also revealed that her father sent men to try and kill her brother Giacomo and his lover Domizio. He regularly mocks and beats Bernardo, her younger brother, who is disabled, and abuses her stepmother Lucrezia. We are told he is a truly decrepit man, and I believe it.
The way the end is framed, you are almost able to hold out for a happy ending, but this is no fictional story, even if some elements have been changed and embellished. She and her family are imprisoned, found guilty of their father's murder and are due to be executed. You are told they are appealing to the pope, the people of Rome are clamoring for their release, and you almost believe they will be. But they're not, and are executed so that an 'example can be made' of them.
Beatrice, Lucrezia, and Giacomo were executed. Bernardo was spared, commanded to watch his family be executed, before being forced to become a galley slave before being released.
(END OF SPOILER WARNING)
I found this to be an incredibly emotional, heartbreaking, devastating read. At times I found it quite difficult because of how truly emotional I found it, and how enraging I found Beatrice's father to be. And the response to his crimes against his family. I'll be thinking of this book for a while.
The year is 1599 in Rome, Italy. A young rich woman stands in front of an executioner’s block. She is a mother, a daughter, a sister, a lover, and a killer. Her victim was her father, a man who made her life and the lives of her family members a living hell. When she falls in love with one of her father’s spies, she believes that it is a way out. However, the path she chooses to embark on will bring deadly consequences. What is the truth surrounding this case, and is Beatrice Cenci a cold-blooded murderer or a victim looking for her freedom? Elizabeth Fremantle explores the life of Beatrice Cenci and the circumstances of this crime in her latest novel, “Sinners.”
When I heard that Elizabeth Fremantle had a new novel coming out soon, I jumped at the chance to read it. I loved “Disobedient” and “Queen’s Gambit,” so I was excited to see what story she would tell in this novel. I had never heard of Beatrice Cenci before reading this novel, which was a thrilling prospect, as it allowed me to discover a new historical figure.
We begin with Beatrice as a young girl being forced to leave the convent where she received her education. Her father, Francesco Cenci, had just remarried, and Beatrice had a new stepmother named Lucrezia. We then jump forward twelve years to the Palazzo Cenci in Rome. Beatrice found the body of her brother Rocco, who was killed by the Orestesi, the mortal enemy of the Cenci. After the funeral, Francesco decides to move to La Rocca, a fortress which is more of a prison than a home.
Francesco becomes paranoid and even more possessive of his family, especially Beatrice, who should have been married by now. Instead, Beatrice is trapped in her grief and fears her father. But, there is a glimmer of hope for Beatrice as she finds her soul mate in the castle keeper and spy for her father, Olimpio. Unfortunately, the glimmer can only last for a moment as Francesco’s paranoia reaches a fever pitch and a plan is hatched to rid the family of Francesco forever. Even with the death of Francesco, the family is not out of danger as they must deal with the consequences of their plan.
This is another grippingly beautiful and tragic novel written by Elizabeth Fremantle. Beatrice Cenci’s story was heartbreaking and heavy, but it was a stunning read. I found myself feeling so sympathetic towards Beatrice and Olimpio, even though she did commit a heinous crime. “Sinners” by Elizabeth Fremantle is a binge-worthy read that will have you on the edge of your seat the entire time and will give you a better understanding of the treacherous time and Beatrice Cenci, a woman trapped in an impossible situation. An absolute must-read for any fan of historical fiction.
The worst part about reading a historical fiction novel, based on a true story, is already knowing how it ends, and Beatrice Cenci deserved so much better.
Set in 16th-century Renaissance Rome, Sinners follows the story of Beatrice Cenci, the daughter of Italian nobleman Francesco Cenci, and her fight for liberation.
When Beatrice's older brother, Rocco, was found murdered by one of her father's rivals, the Cenci family fled to La Rocca, a family property in the Italian countryside. However, Beatrice, her stepmother, Lucrezia, and her younger brother, Bernardo, are far from safe in the secluded halls of La Rocca, as Francesco becomes increasingly tyrannical and callous. Isolated from everyone she knew in Rome, Beatrice befriends the castle's keeper, Olimpio, resulting in a passionate affair hidden in plain sight.
"Oh, Olimpio, for another glimpse of you, Hell seems an Eden"
Okay, now my thoughts: Beatrice is a complex character, represented by her internal dichotomy between saint and sinner and her capacity for redemption. The portrayal of her practicality, strength and resilience was profound, and Fremantle did a fantastic job of characterising her as neither inherently good nor evil. The torture she was subjected to, including watching her loved ones get tortured, was absolutely heart-wrenching.
Beatrice's father, Count Francesco, is an unimaginably dissolute man with a violent temper. The verbal, physical, and sexual abuse he subjected his family to was horrific to read. Fremantle's powerful portrayal of his character was dripping with depravity and audacity, and knowing that he was a real person makes it even worse.
Fremantle's exploration of morality and religion was primarily shown through the characters, Ilaria and Lucrezia. While Ilaria was a devout catholic and found God all-consuming, Lucrezia and Beatrice appeared disillusioned by God after the years of abuse they had suffered at the hands of Francesco. To a modern audience, Ilaria's fear of God or being seen as a 'sinner' might feel exhaustive; however, it felt like an accurate reflection of how thousands of women most likely felt during the 16th century.
The only reason this is a 4-star rating (instead of 5) was that I felt that Olimpio's character was slightly lacking substance. Don't get me wrong, this man YEARNS for Beatrice, but I felt his character development happened slightly too late in the plot for me. I loved his relationship with Bernardo and Giacomo, and I wish we had got to see more of that too.
This book definitely deserves way more hype, and I would recommend it to any lover of historical fiction or feminist retellings. It inspired me to look into Beatrice Cenci's history, and I was delighted to discover that she is still celebrated in modern-day Rome.
A dark story from history but one with an addictive quality that pulls the reader into this beautifully fashioned world. Sinners tells the tale of Beatrice Cenci, a young noble woman in late 1500s Rome. A world of opulence under the cruel oversight of her wealthy father is all she knows. How to navigate his vile moods and vicious temper has become an art form to Bea. But, sadly for her, she is beautiful and draws the worst kind of attention from this dangerous man. Not only is he a threat to her but their entire family is in danger as her father has many enemies. Off to the safety of their country family estate, Bea, her father, stepmother and stepbrother seek sanctuary and reunite with Olimpio, the estate keeper. Olimpio is all that her father is not - kind, considerate and gentle. A risky game ensues where there is much to gamble for a life of love and happiness without the fear that is her daily companion.
I ate this novel up. The rich descriptive element painted a vivid picture of their life, surroundings, this Renaissance world. The creeping sinister atmosphere was tantalising and made me think often of the real life Beatrice and what she encountered. If she was anything like the force of soft power implied within this text she must have been quite a young woman. As our narrator she is well crafted, equally so all the characters in Sinners. The balancing act of keeping Bea's father from anger was a real tightrope act. Yes, there's the budding attraction between Bea and Olimpio but it isn't a soppy romance as the fear of discovery keeps the romantic level in check. Though there's plenty of girlish pondering over their mutual infatuation.
Sinners was a gripping read that has lingered with me. I find myself thinking on the story days after finishing and googling the facts of the case. Sinners is a perfect blend of history, murder mystery, court room drama woven into a rich tapestry of love, deceit, fear and quest for survival. Intoxicating.