*spoilers*
An equally if not more appropriate title for this book would be “Bohemian Gothic” because readers are in for an unusual dose of horror with their historical fiction.
But it's a buildup to said horror, so I'll start at the beginning.
The book starts out by throwing you right into the thick of things—literally. The main character, Mouse, is trapped in the middle of a thick cluster of knights, and there was some great imagery at work here. You could really feel and smell everything Mouse did. That was a fantastic way to open the book, and also exactly the sort of thing you want to read when you click “look inside.”
The first few chapters continue this full-speed-ahead narrative, with Mouse acting quickly to save King Ottakar from an arrow wound, despite the misgivings of his loyal friend and advisor, Lord Rozemberk (who I would think would know a bit more about field medicine and not question her as much, but whatever). We also get our first glimpse of the macabre when Mouse goes down to the river for a respite and accidentally resurrects a squirrel. But she puts that aside when Ottakar demands she accompany him back to Prague as his personal healer.
It was once we got to Prague that I started having issues with this book.
My first issue was the romance between Ottakar and Mouse—which I knew was coming from the synopsis, but, nevertheless, I found cliched and unbelieveable. (Though I'm not sure what other way it could turn out.) I mean yes, at this point, Ottakar was a young king, and could surely have any girl he wanted in his bed. And many kings did have official mistresses. But given Ottakar's shaky political position at the beginning of the book, could he really afford to be so open about his favoritism of a mere orphan girl? And for the same reasons, wouldn't he have more important things to do than constantly run around looking for Mouse to make sure she's okay? (In that regard, he was the standard YA boyfriend.) Point is: historically, Ottakar was a badass king. Was there room for some doomed romance? Yes. Was there room for it to consume such formative years of his life? Probably not.
My second issue was the aforementioned horror angle. Now, I'm not opposed to fantastical/supernatural elements in my historical fiction, but it got pretty over-the-top at some points. Demons tormenting Mouse peronsally? Yes. Demon children running rampant through the city? No. Mouse and Father Lucas sprinkling the church with blood to protect everyone, without attracting unwelcome attention and being burned at the stake? Uh, no. I will say that Dana Chamblee-Carpenter does horror very well, though. This would all make an excellent horror movie—exactly the sort I would avoid! (I actually had to skip part of the Houska Pit scene because it was creeping me out.)
(Also, one smaller complaint: a lot of sentences in this book could benefit from a comma or two. There were so many sentences that seemed almost run-on, and could easily have been fixed. Then again my copy, which I ordered from Amazon, got here before the official release date, so maybe that had something to do with it.)
So: ironically, despite my 5 star rating, I was grumbling and groaning my way through a good chunk of this book—aka the Prague and Hluboka scenes, which focused on the Ottakar-Mouse relationship. All the YA-romance-frolicking just did not serve to advance the plot. (Mouse's pregnancy sure did, but it took a long time to get to that point, and it did not need to. Like I said before: Ottakar, being a king, would have just taken her to his bed. There would have been no dilly-dallying.)
But toward the end of the book, my opinions and emotions began to change. Starting from Mouse's marriage to Lord Rozemberk, I was glued to the page in a way I hadn't been probably since the beginning of the book. (Maybe not even then.) I was initially excited for them, hoping they might prove to be an unlikely love story, but when he morphed into an abusive asshole (I'm assuming due to the torture...that sub-plot in itself was quite tragic) I was just as enthralled with Mouse's resilience in that situation. She had been an incredibly strong person before, but when she had someone else (her baby) to fight for? Whoah.
And when we cut to Mouse's time in the wilderness? I was on the verge of tears. Without the distraction of cliched-YA-boyfriend Ottakar, the real heart of the story—Mouse's mental and spiritual journey—was able to take center stage, and it was gripping. There are many stories out there about people with unwanted powers, but none are quite like Mouse. Because while they all wish to protect those they love, Mouse wants something more—she wants a soul, and a purpose, and to know that she is loved by God despite being the daughter of the devil. While searching for all three, she goes through understandable ups-and-downs, and endears herself to the reader. Even more so after the shock of learning she is immortal, her reunion with Ottakar (truly moving, despite my previous dislike of their relationship), his death, and her several attempted suicides. Her final decision to have herself sealed in a tomb was a particularly gut-wrenching twist. But it also felt right, as an ending, because life had never been fair, for Mouse, and presumably never would be.
But then we cut to the future, and lo and behold—the infamous Devil's Bible! While I'd known what it was before reading this book, I hadn't read in detail about its creation—or should I say its creator, Herman the Recluse. What a brilliant way of tying everything together! (Also notable was Chamblee-Carpenter's use of the Voynich Manuscript as inspiration for the mysterious book of Father Lucas.)
In conclusion, while the middle of the book was bogged down by a lackluster and unnecessarily-prolonged romance, those final plot twists more than made up for it, and more than earned 5 stars. Chamblee-Carpenter's writing style is a perfect fit for historical fiction—active enough to carry the reader through emergency operations and important battles, but atmospheric enough to soak the reader in the rain and darkness so prominent throughout the work. (Also bold enough to tackle tough existential questions and leave them, if necessary, on a less-than-pleasant note.) I look forward to any of her future publications in this genre, and of course the sequel to Bohemian Gospel. (Actually, I'm a bit nervous that it won't live up to the original!)