I picked this up because the tagline was ‘A novel of Joan of Arc,’ and the back of the book described a fictitious friend of Joan’s named Gabrielle. So I thought, oh, cool! A story about Joan of Arc from the perspective of her friend! Like Watson and Holmes!
But it was not like Watson and Holmes. It’s more like if the Sherlock Holmes stories were entirely about Watson’s career issues and heterosexual drama, with Sherlock Holmes only being a minor secondary character whose adventures only set the stage for Watson’s story.
And Gabrielle’s career issues and heterosexual drama are fine. They’re not bad. I like the protagonist. I like her little battlefield romance. The book strikes me as relatively well-researched. But I can’t help but feel disappointed. I wanted a novel of Joan of Arc, god damn it. And I wanted it to be big ridiculous sexy, like the Pope intended. If you’re not writing about a historical Catholic saint with anything less than ultraviolet barely-comprehensible philosophical prose considering the nature of the Holy, dripping with the golden flesh and blood of those anointed, what are you even doing?
Also I’m a little bit salty because the first half of the book has tons of homoerotic scenes where Joan and Gabrielle sit around on a bed talking, helping each other get dressed, kissing, etc, and then the focus completely switches to Gabrielle’s relationship with some guy. And he’s fine. I guess. But come on.