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The Countess
Was the “Blood Countess” history’s first and perhaps worst female serial killer? Or did her accusers create a violent fiction in order to remove this beautiful, intelligent, ambitious foe from the male-dominated world of Hungarian politics?
In 1611, Countess Erzsébet Báthory, a powerful Hungarian noblewoman, stood helpless as masons walled her inside her castle tower, dooming her to spend her final years in solitary confinement. Her crime—the gruesome murders of dozens of female servants, mostly young girls tortured to death for displeasing their ruthless mistress. Her opponents painted her as a bloodthirsty škrata—a witch—a portrayal that would expand to grotesque proportions through the centuries.
In this riveting dramatization of Erzsébet Báthory’s life, the countess tells her story in her own words, writing to her only son—a final reckoning from his mother in an attempt to reveal the truth behind her downfall. Countess Báthory describes her upbringing in one of the most powerful noble houses in Hungary, recounting in loving detail her devotion to her parents and siblings as well as the heartbreak of losing her father at a young age. She soon discovers the price of being a woman in sixteenth-century Hungary as her mother arranges her marriage to Ferenc Nádasdy, a union made with the cold calculation of a financial transaction. Young Erzsébet knows she has no choice but to accept this marriage even as she laments its loveless nature and ultimately turns to the illicit affections of another man.
Seemingly resigned to a marriage of convenience and a life of surreptitious pleasure, the countess surprises even herself as she ignites a marital spark with Ferenc through the most unromantic of acts: the violent punishment of an insolent female servant. The event shows Ferenc that his wife is no trophy but a strong, determined woman more than capable of managing their vast estates during Ferenc’s extensive military campaigns against the Turks. Her naked assertion of power accomplishes what her famed beauty could not: capturing the love of her husband.
The countess embraces this new role of loving wife and mother, doing everything she can to expand her husband’s power and secure her family’s future. But a darker side surfaces as Countess Báthory’s demand for virtue, obedience, and, above all, respect from her servants takes a sinister turn. What emerges is not only a disturbing, unflinching portrait of the deeds that gave Báthory the moniker “Blood Countess,” but an intimate look at the woman who became a monster.
In 1611, Countess Erzsébet Báthory, a powerful Hungarian noblewoman, stood helpless as masons walled her inside her castle tower, dooming her to spend her final years in solitary confinement. Her crime—the gruesome murders of dozens of female servants, mostly young girls tortured to death for displeasing their ruthless mistress. Her opponents painted her as a bloodthirsty škrata—a witch—a portrayal that would expand to grotesque proportions through the centuries.
In this riveting dramatization of Erzsébet Báthory’s life, the countess tells her story in her own words, writing to her only son—a final reckoning from his mother in an attempt to reveal the truth behind her downfall. Countess Báthory describes her upbringing in one of the most powerful noble houses in Hungary, recounting in loving detail her devotion to her parents and siblings as well as the heartbreak of losing her father at a young age. She soon discovers the price of being a woman in sixteenth-century Hungary as her mother arranges her marriage to Ferenc Nádasdy, a union made with the cold calculation of a financial transaction. Young Erzsébet knows she has no choice but to accept this marriage even as she laments its loveless nature and ultimately turns to the illicit affections of another man.
Seemingly resigned to a marriage of convenience and a life of surreptitious pleasure, the countess surprises even herself as she ignites a marital spark with Ferenc through the most unromantic of acts: the violent punishment of an insolent female servant. The event shows Ferenc that his wife is no trophy but a strong, determined woman more than capable of managing their vast estates during Ferenc’s extensive military campaigns against the Turks. Her naked assertion of power accomplishes what her famed beauty could not: capturing the love of her husband.
The countess embraces this new role of loving wife and mother, doing everything she can to expand her husband’s power and secure her family’s future. But a darker side surfaces as Countess Báthory’s demand for virtue, obedience, and, above all, respect from her servants takes a sinister turn. What emerges is not only a disturbing, unflinching portrait of the deeds that gave Báthory the moniker “Blood Countess,” but an intimate look at the woman who became a monster.
306 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2010
116 people are currently reading
3491 people want to read
About the author
Rebecca Johns
5 books68 followersRebecca Johns is the author of two novels, Icebergs (Bloomsbury USA, 2006), which was a PEN/Hemingway Finalist, and The Countess (Crown 2010), which has been translated around the world. Her writing has appeared in StoryQuarterly, Ploughshares, Printer's Row Journal, the Mississippi Review, the Harvard Review, and Narrative, and numerous commercial magazines and newspapers such as Bride's, Cosmopolitan, Fitness, Mademoiselle, Self, Seventeen and Woman's Day. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop and the Missouri School of Journalism, she is the director of the MFA/MA program in creative writing at DePaul University in Chicago.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 356 reviews
November 17, 2010
I read mostly literary writing, and this novel is no exception. So if you're expecting a gothic novel about vampires or a thriller about cold blooded murders, you'll probably be disappointed both by the book and by this review.
The Countess is a fictionalized memoir of a real life Hungarian countess who came to be known as "the blood countess" on account of the many murders of young servant girls attributed to her. She is also the likely prototype of the "evil stepmother" so frequently seen in all the better known fairy tales now appropriated by Disney, and Johns makes sure to leave plenty of clues behind to reconnect to those beloved fairy tales. But rather than delivering a one-dimensional portrait of a cruel woman and her violent murders, John constructs a sophisticated profile of a beautiful, intelligent and well-educated woman who has been brought up to believe the only gift she can give the world is through her beauty from the love of a man. Unfortunately, in this one thing Bathory seems cursed: all the man to whom she gives her love, including her son, ultimately pass her over for someone else. The fear that Bathroy may never experience this much touted love, and that she may one day become the helpless victim of the indifference of men is what fuels her slow mental degeneration, which capitulates, literally, in bloody murder.
And still, this is not a story about madness, nor about self-pitying women at the mercy of gender oppression. To the contrary, this is a lively tale about a resourceful, strong-headed woman who strives to maintain her family's power in the face of constant war and shifting allegiances. The plot of her political and sentimental ploys is so well developed that it isn't until late in the novel that the murder of the young girls in Bathory's employ begin to take center stage. By this time, we've come to know Bathory so well as a clever, quick-witted, charming and generous woman that it's almost impossible to believe she could in fact have committed those murders. As other readers have pointed out, Bathory is likable. She is also pitiable as an unloved woman whose only real flaw seems to be (at first) that she's educated.
Many readers express surprise that Johns spent so much time developing Bathory's childhood years, but without those years The Countess would be just another story about psychopaths, heartless murderers and unrepentant cold hearted blook suckers, or in any case another novel with a plot that deliver only on blood and gore. For that, there are plenty other stories.
Rather, what we have here is the effects on the human mind of a repressed but very real fear, as the restrictive rules imposed on her gender expose her and her young children to the tangible and well-founded possibility of betrayal, poverty, brutality and even death. On the surface, Bathory seems to overcome all of her physical and psychological obstacles, but the stress and fears build up. This psychological complexity is what makes this novel a brilliant work of interpretation of a promising talented woman's life gone sadly awry. In the end Bathory's "rage black outs" are consistent with the psychoses that can develop from the constant stress of danger and from the emotional disappointments that Bathory has to survive on account of the death of some of her children and of the rejections and humiliations she has to endure at the hand of men on whom she relies for protection.
Her violence against the beautiful, helpless servants in her keep then become the expression of a repressed rage that has been festering for years in Bathory's subconscious, a rage addressed at exactly those same values (beauty, femmininity, fertility) that have in the end buried Bathory alive.
I heartily recommend this novel to anyone who wants to be intelligently engaged by this intriguing time period and by the subtleties of a vivid, brilliant new voice in literature.
The Countess is a fictionalized memoir of a real life Hungarian countess who came to be known as "the blood countess" on account of the many murders of young servant girls attributed to her. She is also the likely prototype of the "evil stepmother" so frequently seen in all the better known fairy tales now appropriated by Disney, and Johns makes sure to leave plenty of clues behind to reconnect to those beloved fairy tales. But rather than delivering a one-dimensional portrait of a cruel woman and her violent murders, John constructs a sophisticated profile of a beautiful, intelligent and well-educated woman who has been brought up to believe the only gift she can give the world is through her beauty from the love of a man. Unfortunately, in this one thing Bathory seems cursed: all the man to whom she gives her love, including her son, ultimately pass her over for someone else. The fear that Bathroy may never experience this much touted love, and that she may one day become the helpless victim of the indifference of men is what fuels her slow mental degeneration, which capitulates, literally, in bloody murder.
And still, this is not a story about madness, nor about self-pitying women at the mercy of gender oppression. To the contrary, this is a lively tale about a resourceful, strong-headed woman who strives to maintain her family's power in the face of constant war and shifting allegiances. The plot of her political and sentimental ploys is so well developed that it isn't until late in the novel that the murder of the young girls in Bathory's employ begin to take center stage. By this time, we've come to know Bathory so well as a clever, quick-witted, charming and generous woman that it's almost impossible to believe she could in fact have committed those murders. As other readers have pointed out, Bathory is likable. She is also pitiable as an unloved woman whose only real flaw seems to be (at first) that she's educated.
Many readers express surprise that Johns spent so much time developing Bathory's childhood years, but without those years The Countess would be just another story about psychopaths, heartless murderers and unrepentant cold hearted blook suckers, or in any case another novel with a plot that deliver only on blood and gore. For that, there are plenty other stories.
Rather, what we have here is the effects on the human mind of a repressed but very real fear, as the restrictive rules imposed on her gender expose her and her young children to the tangible and well-founded possibility of betrayal, poverty, brutality and even death. On the surface, Bathory seems to overcome all of her physical and psychological obstacles, but the stress and fears build up. This psychological complexity is what makes this novel a brilliant work of interpretation of a promising talented woman's life gone sadly awry. In the end Bathory's "rage black outs" are consistent with the psychoses that can develop from the constant stress of danger and from the emotional disappointments that Bathory has to survive on account of the death of some of her children and of the rejections and humiliations she has to endure at the hand of men on whom she relies for protection.
Her violence against the beautiful, helpless servants in her keep then become the expression of a repressed rage that has been festering for years in Bathory's subconscious, a rage addressed at exactly those same values (beauty, femmininity, fertility) that have in the end buried Bathory alive.
I heartily recommend this novel to anyone who wants to be intelligently engaged by this intriguing time period and by the subtleties of a vivid, brilliant new voice in literature.
January 21, 2011
The back cover copy promised depraved cruelty. The flap copy hinted at a dark and sadistic relationship. What I wanted was a tale of Bathory that offered an explanation for at least some of the bloodcurdling rumors that surround her name.
And when Erzsébet and her husband find the missing erotic spark to their marriage through her degrading and painful punishment of a servant girl, I thought the novel was on the right track. This is it, I thought, two sadists who meet and fall in love with each others depravity.
But instead, the narrative shies away from exploring the myths surrounding the Blood Countess. Every death seems accidental, through rage rather arousal. If we are to believe this version of her, Bathory is less serial killer and more out-of-control bully. Perhaps this version is more historically accurate--there is only scant evidence of Erzsébet's guilt, but it is, for me, a less compelling story.
When the worst of the atrocities are committed, it is when her female servants/accomplices are in charge. It is they who chain the girls naked to the walls, they who starve and beat them to death then leave the bodies chained to the survivors. It is the servants who are monsters. I find this hard to believe as a historical theory and especially as a plot point in the story. It absolves Erzsébet of too much. A woman who wasn't a cold-blooded killer wouldn't keep a servant so out of control, and a true serial killer wouldn't let someone else have what is for them ultimate rush: the kill.
The prose style and all of the surrounding characters were wonderful. Even the Countess is believable as young bride, passionate wife, loving mother, and desperate prisoner. The novel's weakness is not its prose or characters, or even so much its plot, as it is its aversion to answering directly the charges history has brought to Erzsébet Bathory.
And when Erzsébet and her husband find the missing erotic spark to their marriage through her degrading and painful punishment of a servant girl, I thought the novel was on the right track. This is it, I thought, two sadists who meet and fall in love with each others depravity.
But instead, the narrative shies away from exploring the myths surrounding the Blood Countess. Every death seems accidental, through rage rather arousal. If we are to believe this version of her, Bathory is less serial killer and more out-of-control bully. Perhaps this version is more historically accurate--there is only scant evidence of Erzsébet's guilt, but it is, for me, a less compelling story.
When the worst of the atrocities are committed, it is when her female servants/accomplices are in charge. It is they who chain the girls naked to the walls, they who starve and beat them to death then leave the bodies chained to the survivors. It is the servants who are monsters. I find this hard to believe as a historical theory and especially as a plot point in the story. It absolves Erzsébet of too much. A woman who wasn't a cold-blooded killer wouldn't keep a servant so out of control, and a true serial killer wouldn't let someone else have what is for them ultimate rush: the kill.
The prose style and all of the surrounding characters were wonderful. Even the Countess is believable as young bride, passionate wife, loving mother, and desperate prisoner. The novel's weakness is not its prose or characters, or even so much its plot, as it is its aversion to answering directly the charges history has brought to Erzsébet Bathory.
February 12, 2023
I liked the style of writing and at first I thought I was going to rate it highly. But it soon feels like quite a challenge to read and stay focused on. It just felt flat for me, didn't get really deeply invested in the characters even if it wasn't terrible. I just couldn't get my self to pick it back up or finishing it. Was closer to the end than the beginning but decided to DNF this. 2023 is my big year of DNFing
October 13, 2018
Scritto bene, ho letto con piacere questa retrospettiva sulla contessa, narrata direttamente da lei! Durante gli ultimi giorni di prigionia. Ma… già, c’è un ma… l’ho trovata anche inconcludente. Tendenzialmente il racconto si sofferma sui dettagli più frivoli o gli episodi mondani, affrontando quasi con trascuratezza la parte che ha reso così famigerata la nobildonna - che si giustifica e al contempo si professa indirettamente coinvolta, e solo a causa “dell’eccesso di zelo” delle sue subordinate più strette. Insomma, un libro che non mi è dispiaciuto leggere ma mi ha lasciato inappagato dal punto di vista del contenuto. Il classico ‘mi aspettavo qualcosa di diverso’, però con un’accezione molto più positiva di quella che ha solitamente. Quindi in realtà è un 3,5 come voto.
October 13, 2018
Non completamente da buttare, perché è ambientato in Ungheria, una terra secondo me ricca di spunti ma della quale in letteratura non si parla mai; inoltre nonostante non sia per niente un horror come viene venduto e abbia anche pochissimo dello storico, è scritto bene ed è scorrevole, con dei buoni dialoghi e dei personaggi abbastanza credibili, tolta la protagonista - anche se verso la fine l'autrice era diventata brodosa, ma fortunatamente se n'è resa conto e ha chiuso il romanzo. Nella prima parte mi era piaciuto seriamente, mi aveva incuriosita, e speravo che dopo duemila capitoli di preambolo la storia prendesse finalmente il via e si facesse più movimentata. Ma questo non è successo, anzi, le paturnie sentimentali della contessa Bathory si sono intensificate, dando largo spazio alle sue vicende mentali più che a quelle reali.
Quello che proprio non ha funzionato è stata la trama. La parte dopo è brutta, brutta, un drammone esageratamente sentimentale con un finale senza spina dorsale, buttato completamente a caso con qualche frase commovente che dovrebbe distrarre sulla povertà del contenuto. Il romanzo doveva essere diciamo incentrato sulla questione della presunta sanguinarietà di Erzsebet, invece il mistero viene liquidato in un semplice 'che ce volete fà, le serve vanno punite' (mica tanto parafrasando! Credo di aver trovato davvero un 'mi dispiace, ma devo punire le domestiche') e in uno sclero finale che coinvolge solo le ultimissime pagine, molto, troppo raffazzonate. Insomma, il tutto dà quasi da pensare che l'autrice non sapesse come concludere una volta gettate le premesse per un romanzo interessante.
Più che una vittima o comunque un personaggio intrigante, Erzsebet sembra una pazzoide presuntuosa, che gestisce la propria vita perennemente in preda a tumulti ormonali o emozioni adolescenziali. Non ho visto una evoluzione del personaggio: a 11 anni è uguale a quando ne ha 54, semplicemente con qualche esperienza (di cui non ha fatto tesoro) in più. E, non ultimo, il libro mi ha ricordato troppo da vicino Queen's confession... solo che questo verrebbe 40 anni dopo!
Quello che proprio non ha funzionato è stata la trama. La parte dopo è brutta, brutta, un drammone esageratamente sentimentale con un finale senza spina dorsale, buttato completamente a caso con qualche frase commovente che dovrebbe distrarre sulla povertà del contenuto. Il romanzo doveva essere diciamo incentrato sulla questione della presunta sanguinarietà di Erzsebet, invece il mistero viene liquidato in un semplice 'che ce volete fà, le serve vanno punite' (mica tanto parafrasando! Credo di aver trovato davvero un 'mi dispiace, ma devo punire le domestiche') e in uno sclero finale che coinvolge solo le ultimissime pagine, molto, troppo raffazzonate. Insomma, il tutto dà quasi da pensare che l'autrice non sapesse come concludere una volta gettate le premesse per un romanzo interessante.
Più che una vittima o comunque un personaggio intrigante, Erzsebet sembra una pazzoide presuntuosa, che gestisce la propria vita perennemente in preda a tumulti ormonali o emozioni adolescenziali. Non ho visto una evoluzione del personaggio: a 11 anni è uguale a quando ne ha 54, semplicemente con qualche esperienza (di cui non ha fatto tesoro) in più. E, non ultimo, il libro mi ha ricordato troppo da vicino Queen's confession... solo che questo verrebbe 40 anni dopo!
February 7, 2012
The Countess: A Novel by Rebecca Johns is a novel about the life of Countess Erzsebet Bathory. Before I review the book let me give you some background information.
Most people don't know much about Countess Erzsebet Bathory. She was a Hungarian countess that lived from 1560-1614. She was accused of torturing and murdering hundreds of young virgin girls. There is evidence that she mistreated and killed many of her servants but most her crimes have probably been greatly exaggerated and made into a legend. The legend of Erzsebet Bathory's life says that she was a sadistic monster that bathed in the blood of virgins because she believed that it made her look younger and more beautiful. Countess Bathory was never given a trial and was never convicted of any crime. She was placed under house arrest and was walled into a room in her castle where she died four years later.
One would think that a book about a woman so infamous would be entertaining. After all, a woman who is said to have bathed in the blood of virgins is bound to be interesting, right? WRONG! The Countess: A Novel is one of the most boring and tedious pieces of historical fiction that I have ever read. The author tried to put forward that Countess Bathory was a helpless widow who was at the mercy of her sons-in-law and the government officials who wanted to steal her lands and fortunes. To a certain extent, she was. But Countess Bathory was in no way an innocent victim. She did mistreat and murder servant girls and she may have even tortured some of them just for fun. It wouldn't be unheard of for a severely inbred noblewoman in this time period to get her kicks out of torturing servants. It wasn't horribly uncommon.
In conclusion, I do not recommend this book. If you want a good, gory, ridiculous account of the life of Erzsebet Bathory you should read Bathory: Memoir of a Countess by A. Mordeaux. Be forewarned, this book is VERY graphic and is not recommended for the faint of heart.
Most people don't know much about Countess Erzsebet Bathory. She was a Hungarian countess that lived from 1560-1614. She was accused of torturing and murdering hundreds of young virgin girls. There is evidence that she mistreated and killed many of her servants but most her crimes have probably been greatly exaggerated and made into a legend. The legend of Erzsebet Bathory's life says that she was a sadistic monster that bathed in the blood of virgins because she believed that it made her look younger and more beautiful. Countess Bathory was never given a trial and was never convicted of any crime. She was placed under house arrest and was walled into a room in her castle where she died four years later.
One would think that a book about a woman so infamous would be entertaining. After all, a woman who is said to have bathed in the blood of virgins is bound to be interesting, right? WRONG! The Countess: A Novel is one of the most boring and tedious pieces of historical fiction that I have ever read. The author tried to put forward that Countess Bathory was a helpless widow who was at the mercy of her sons-in-law and the government officials who wanted to steal her lands and fortunes. To a certain extent, she was. But Countess Bathory was in no way an innocent victim. She did mistreat and murder servant girls and she may have even tortured some of them just for fun. It wouldn't be unheard of for a severely inbred noblewoman in this time period to get her kicks out of torturing servants. It wasn't horribly uncommon.
In conclusion, I do not recommend this book. If you want a good, gory, ridiculous account of the life of Erzsebet Bathory you should read Bathory: Memoir of a Countess by A. Mordeaux. Be forewarned, this book is VERY graphic and is not recommended for the faint of heart.
September 28, 2023
Me ha encantado esta novela sobre Erszébet Bathory, más conocida como La condesa sangrienta, según dice la leyenda la mayor asesina en serie de la historia, que asesinaba a chicas jóvenes y luego se bañaba en su sangre para mantenerse joven y bella pero no hay nada que asegure que eso fue realmente lo que pasó....
Fue condenada por ello a vivir en la torre de su castillo, de la cual tapiaron ventanas,(de las cuales solo dejaron que entrase un resquicio de luz) y la puerta, en la cual dejaron un hueco para pasarle la comida, su castigo duró 4 años, momento en el que murió.
Cada cuál puede creerselo o no....pero a mí me han quedado dudas si realmente fue eso lo que pasó después de leer esta novela.
Esta novela histórica comienza en el momento del cautiverio de Erszébet, cuando vienen a tapiarle puertas y ventanas, y está narrado de forma epistolar, a través de cartas que ella le escribe a su hijo pequeño Pal, en ella le narra su vida desde su infancia, en la cual le inculcaron que sin un marido al lado y sin belleza, las mujeres no eran nada, hasta el momento de su detención.
Fue condenada por ello a vivir en la torre de su castillo, de la cual tapiaron ventanas,(de las cuales solo dejaron que entrase un resquicio de luz) y la puerta, en la cual dejaron un hueco para pasarle la comida, su castigo duró 4 años, momento en el que murió.
Cada cuál puede creerselo o no....pero a mí me han quedado dudas si realmente fue eso lo que pasó después de leer esta novela.
Esta novela histórica comienza en el momento del cautiverio de Erszébet, cuando vienen a tapiarle puertas y ventanas, y está narrado de forma epistolar, a través de cartas que ella le escribe a su hijo pequeño Pal, en ella le narra su vida desde su infancia, en la cual le inculcaron que sin un marido al lado y sin belleza, las mujeres no eran nada, hasta el momento de su detención.
March 12, 2017
The Countess tells the story of Erzsebet Bathory, a woman from a Hungarian noble family, who is often called Countess Dracula because of all the lives of young women she is said to have taken.
The book shows Erzsebet's life from nine years of age to fifty-four. At first, you can only see small glimpses of her ruthless character. Of course, since she is the one to tell the story she isn't quite a reliable character and tries to manipulate us into thinking her as a peaceful and innocent women doing what she thinks is the right thing to do. Page after page, as we read through lines we see her transformation.
I think, based on the book, that a part of her cruel character is a cause of the disappointment she experienced from all the men in her life, who always left her for other younger women. This may have lead her to show her anger to people who didn't deserve it. Or it was just an excuse she made up to hide the real reasons behind why people always "betrayed" her, as she called it. But did she really do everything she was accused of or were there political reasons behind her imprisonment?
April 24, 2021
Chciałam sięgnąć po fabularyzowaną biografię Elżbiety Batory. Po lekturze mam niejasne wrażenie, że zagłębiłam się w historię rodem z brazylijskich telenoweli, która - wstyd przyznać - stanowiła dla mnie guilty pleasure. Nie mam nic na swoją obronę. Cóż, każdy ma jakieś fetysze. ;)
Powieść jest ponoć bardzo silnie oparta na faktach historycznych. Słowa "ponoć" użyłam celowo. W żadnym wypadku nie podważam w ten sposób kompetencji czy dobrych intencji autorki. Przyczyna jest prozaiczna - moja widza historyczna jest bardzo okrojona. Nazwisko Batory nie jest mi całkiem obce, chociaż w pamięci utkwił mi raczej Stefan niż Elżbieta. Nie jestem jednak w stanie ocenić, jak bardzo fabuła powieści odbiega od tekstów podręcznikowych.
Sama Elżbieta została w książce przedstawiona jako postać niejednowymiarowa, skomplikowana. Ze stron powieści wręcz wylewa się jej egoizm, bezduszność, wyrachowanie, a także całkowita znieczulica na ludzki ból czy problemy. Głównej bohaterce brakuje jakiejkolwiek empatii - do tego stopnia, że w dniu ślubu najmłodszej córki skupia się przede wszystkim na własnych emocjach i romansach. Niejeden psycholog potrzebowałby psychologa po dwudziestominutowej sesji z hrabiną. :) Nie da się jednak pominąć ciężkiej relacji Elżbiety z matką. Od najmłodszych lat uczona była manipulacji, chłodnej kalkulacji, małych i większych kłamstw w gronie najbliższej rodziny. Wyrastała w przekonaniu, że kobiety zawsze mają trudniej. W zasadzie już od narodzin, bo to męski potomek najbardziej zasługiwał na miłość ojca. W Elżbiecie zaczęła kiełkować chora potrzeba akceptacji, miłości, która bardzo przekładała się na jej relacje z mężczyznami. Niby pragnęła szczerego uczucia, ale i tak uciekała się do manipulacji, którymi karmiła ją matka. Jej partnerzy, kochankowie nie pozostawali jej dłużni. Relacje hrabiny z mężczyznami to pasmo pełne upokorzeń, zdrad, braku lojalności oraz pożądania niepopartego przyjaźnią. Jej frustracja sprawiła, że kobieta powoli zamieniała się w potwora, całkowicie wypierając swoja ciemną stronę ze świadomości. Tymczasem w jej otoczeniu ginęło coraz więcej młodych dziewcząt.
Książka wyraźnie podkreśla, jak brutalne i odrażające było średniowiecze. Aranżowane małżeństwa były w istocie spektaklami o podłożu politycznym i ekonomicznym. Przez łoża władców przewijały się tabuny oblubienic, o których żony wiedziały, ale reagowały dopiero, gdy młódki zaczynały się przechwalać gorącym uczuciem pana domu. Małżonkowie potrafili nie widzieć się latami, podczas gdy żony zarządzały majątkiem, a mężowie brali udział w walkach bądź rozmowach politycznych. Na wiele spraw przymykano oko, a to, co dziś uchodzi za wyjątkowo brutalne, wówczas mogło budzić podziw.
Absolutnie nie pałam sympatią do średniowiecza, ale za to darzę jakąś dziwną sympatią tę książkę. Cytując klasyka: "Jak do tego doszło - nie wiem". Ale może za kilka lat przeczytam tę historię jeszcze raz...
Powieść jest ponoć bardzo silnie oparta na faktach historycznych. Słowa "ponoć" użyłam celowo. W żadnym wypadku nie podważam w ten sposób kompetencji czy dobrych intencji autorki. Przyczyna jest prozaiczna - moja widza historyczna jest bardzo okrojona. Nazwisko Batory nie jest mi całkiem obce, chociaż w pamięci utkwił mi raczej Stefan niż Elżbieta. Nie jestem jednak w stanie ocenić, jak bardzo fabuła powieści odbiega od tekstów podręcznikowych.
Sama Elżbieta została w książce przedstawiona jako postać niejednowymiarowa, skomplikowana. Ze stron powieści wręcz wylewa się jej egoizm, bezduszność, wyrachowanie, a także całkowita znieczulica na ludzki ból czy problemy. Głównej bohaterce brakuje jakiejkolwiek empatii - do tego stopnia, że w dniu ślubu najmłodszej córki skupia się przede wszystkim na własnych emocjach i romansach. Niejeden psycholog potrzebowałby psychologa po dwudziestominutowej sesji z hrabiną. :) Nie da się jednak pominąć ciężkiej relacji Elżbiety z matką. Od najmłodszych lat uczona była manipulacji, chłodnej kalkulacji, małych i większych kłamstw w gronie najbliższej rodziny. Wyrastała w przekonaniu, że kobiety zawsze mają trudniej. W zasadzie już od narodzin, bo to męski potomek najbardziej zasługiwał na miłość ojca. W Elżbiecie zaczęła kiełkować chora potrzeba akceptacji, miłości, która bardzo przekładała się na jej relacje z mężczyznami. Niby pragnęła szczerego uczucia, ale i tak uciekała się do manipulacji, którymi karmiła ją matka. Jej partnerzy, kochankowie nie pozostawali jej dłużni. Relacje hrabiny z mężczyznami to pasmo pełne upokorzeń, zdrad, braku lojalności oraz pożądania niepopartego przyjaźnią. Jej frustracja sprawiła, że kobieta powoli zamieniała się w potwora, całkowicie wypierając swoja ciemną stronę ze świadomości. Tymczasem w jej otoczeniu ginęło coraz więcej młodych dziewcząt.
Książka wyraźnie podkreśla, jak brutalne i odrażające było średniowiecze. Aranżowane małżeństwa były w istocie spektaklami o podłożu politycznym i ekonomicznym. Przez łoża władców przewijały się tabuny oblubienic, o których żony wiedziały, ale reagowały dopiero, gdy młódki zaczynały się przechwalać gorącym uczuciem pana domu. Małżonkowie potrafili nie widzieć się latami, podczas gdy żony zarządzały majątkiem, a mężowie brali udział w walkach bądź rozmowach politycznych. Na wiele spraw przymykano oko, a to, co dziś uchodzi za wyjątkowo brutalne, wówczas mogło budzić podziw.
Absolutnie nie pałam sympatią do średniowiecza, ale za to darzę jakąś dziwną sympatią tę książkę. Cytując klasyka: "Jak do tego doszło - nie wiem". Ale może za kilka lat przeczytam tę historię jeszcze raz...
February 6, 2011
Tackling the infamous Countess Elizabeth Bathory is no mean feat. Notorious for her alleged serial killing spree of over a hundred servant girls, in whose blood she supposedly bathed to retain her youth, doesn't exactly make for a sympathetic heroine. In Ms John's second novel THE COUNTESS, however, she attempts to do just that, rescuing the countess from the dark myth surrounding her to present a more balanced look of a strong but fettered young woman bartered into marriage for the sake of familial politics, whose vulnerable sense of self-worth and noble entitlement led her down a twisting path into murder and eventual imprisonment and defamation.
And for the most part, Ms Johns succeeds in this approach. Told in first person and framed as a exoneration for her estranged son, Johns's Erzsebet Bathory is an unreliable narrator, and it is this precise fact that makes this book an unsettling read. We're never quite sure just how far the countess has gone in white-washing her crimes for posterity, though her tale of a frigid childhood, domineering parents and lack of any real choices elicits our empathy. Erzsebet is not perfect; she can be cold and aristocratically hostile toward her inferiors, and her impatience with those who do not fit into her ideology of the world foreshadow the monstrous acts she's about to commit. However, these very characteristics also distance us from her; we get the sense she cannot be fully trusted and so we instinctually draw away from her. But what else can we do, knowing what is coming? Knowing this, Ms Johns lavishes her narrative with marvelous, intimate details of noble life in 17th century Hungary, and of the dynastic alliances and imbroglios that will tear down Erzsebet’s painstaking attempts to create a semblance of independence. She lulls us into the richness and uncertainty of a vanquishing world sliding into chaos, in which the savagery of the countess’s crimes is but a backdrop for greater horrors to come.
When the dénouement arrives, it’s therefore not nearly as bloody as we imagine. Perhaps Erzsebet herself has lied to us, disguising her worst excesses in justifications of disobedient servants and the matrimonial pressures she faced. Or perhaps the legend is far more lurid than reality, as so often happens with so many maligned historical ladies? Whatever the case, while Johns depicts a more muted and historically accurate countess, what Erzsbet Bathory lacks in bite, she more than makes up for in her sly, cunning tale that sent more than a few shivers down this reader’s spine.
And for the most part, Ms Johns succeeds in this approach. Told in first person and framed as a exoneration for her estranged son, Johns's Erzsebet Bathory is an unreliable narrator, and it is this precise fact that makes this book an unsettling read. We're never quite sure just how far the countess has gone in white-washing her crimes for posterity, though her tale of a frigid childhood, domineering parents and lack of any real choices elicits our empathy. Erzsebet is not perfect; she can be cold and aristocratically hostile toward her inferiors, and her impatience with those who do not fit into her ideology of the world foreshadow the monstrous acts she's about to commit. However, these very characteristics also distance us from her; we get the sense she cannot be fully trusted and so we instinctually draw away from her. But what else can we do, knowing what is coming? Knowing this, Ms Johns lavishes her narrative with marvelous, intimate details of noble life in 17th century Hungary, and of the dynastic alliances and imbroglios that will tear down Erzsebet’s painstaking attempts to create a semblance of independence. She lulls us into the richness and uncertainty of a vanquishing world sliding into chaos, in which the savagery of the countess’s crimes is but a backdrop for greater horrors to come.
When the dénouement arrives, it’s therefore not nearly as bloody as we imagine. Perhaps Erzsebet herself has lied to us, disguising her worst excesses in justifications of disobedient servants and the matrimonial pressures she faced. Or perhaps the legend is far more lurid than reality, as so often happens with so many maligned historical ladies? Whatever the case, while Johns depicts a more muted and historically accurate countess, what Erzsbet Bathory lacks in bite, she more than makes up for in her sly, cunning tale that sent more than a few shivers down this reader’s spine.
October 19, 2011
Mai giudicare un personaggio dalla copertina.
Già. Perché arrivo a tali momenti di superficialità anche io, che vi credete? La contessa nera non ha nulla a che fare con la modella in copertina: la contessa ha gli occhi e i capelli scuri, la modella ha i capelli rossi e gli occhi verdi... Perché non si sono impegnati a trovarne un'altra, vi chiederete? Non lo so. Queste cose di marketing non le capisco.
Ma non si ferma tutto qui, perché se faccio un discorso superficiale lo faccio perché ha un suo senso. E il senso è che tutto questo libro, più o meno, è una trovata di marketing.
Chi è la contessa nera, la serial killer Erzsébet Báthory? Se è questa la vostra domanda, probabilmente leggervi la pagina di wikipedia vi sarà più utile che leggere questo libro. Se invece volete leggere una storia romanzata che si ispira vagamente a quella che è l'effettiva biografia di Erzsébet Báthory, questo libro fa per voi. Sembra quasi che l'autrice voglia difendere la contessa, addolcire la pillola al lettore, far passare un'assassina per una donna comune, una persona che faceva solo quello che era il suo dovere fare. La faccenda riguardante la magia nera, ampiamente documentata, non è affatto citata.
Il libro è un continuo addolcire la pillola: il primo capitolo, che sembra un epilogo posto all'inizio, come spesso succede, non lo è affatto. Si tratta di una lunghissima lettera che lei sta scrivendo al figlio, raccontandogli tutta la sua vita. Non c'è nessuno stacco, niente che giunga inaspettato, nessuna scena che possa sconvolgere un poco il lettore. Anche in quei momenti che potrebbero risultare violenti, l'autrice liquida tutto con un "non so cosa accadde", "non ricordo cosa accadde" e altri stratagemmi di questo genere.
L'uso della lunga lettera, inoltre, stride un po': spesso ci ricorda che si tratta di una lettera riferendosi a "tuo padre" e "tu", ricordandoci quindi che c'è un destinatario, ma la maggior parte delle volte non avviene.
Insomma, questo libro è un no da molti punti di vista. Si merita qualcosa per la bella copertina e per il fatto che la storia, di per sé, è estremamente bella: peccato che dovrebbe essere una biografia - e che, quindi, i fatti raccontati non sono frutto della fantasia dell'autrice - ma che non è fedele alla vita della protagonista.
Togliamoci insomma tutto il marketing, togliamo la copertina, togliamo l'idea che sia una biografia e togliamo tutte le frasi pubblicitarie: rimangono tre stelline.
Ma al giorno d'oggi il marketing lo possiamo togliere solo ipoteticamente, quindi le stelline sono due. E mezzo, magari.
Già. Perché arrivo a tali momenti di superficialità anche io, che vi credete? La contessa nera non ha nulla a che fare con la modella in copertina: la contessa ha gli occhi e i capelli scuri, la modella ha i capelli rossi e gli occhi verdi... Perché non si sono impegnati a trovarne un'altra, vi chiederete? Non lo so. Queste cose di marketing non le capisco.
Ma non si ferma tutto qui, perché se faccio un discorso superficiale lo faccio perché ha un suo senso. E il senso è che tutto questo libro, più o meno, è una trovata di marketing.
Chi è la contessa nera, la serial killer Erzsébet Báthory? Se è questa la vostra domanda, probabilmente leggervi la pagina di wikipedia vi sarà più utile che leggere questo libro. Se invece volete leggere una storia romanzata che si ispira vagamente a quella che è l'effettiva biografia di Erzsébet Báthory, questo libro fa per voi. Sembra quasi che l'autrice voglia difendere la contessa, addolcire la pillola al lettore, far passare un'assassina per una donna comune, una persona che faceva solo quello che era il suo dovere fare. La faccenda riguardante la magia nera, ampiamente documentata, non è affatto citata.
Il libro è un continuo addolcire la pillola: il primo capitolo, che sembra un epilogo posto all'inizio, come spesso succede, non lo è affatto. Si tratta di una lunghissima lettera che lei sta scrivendo al figlio, raccontandogli tutta la sua vita. Non c'è nessuno stacco, niente che giunga inaspettato, nessuna scena che possa sconvolgere un poco il lettore. Anche in quei momenti che potrebbero risultare violenti, l'autrice liquida tutto con un "non so cosa accadde", "non ricordo cosa accadde" e altri stratagemmi di questo genere.
L'uso della lunga lettera, inoltre, stride un po': spesso ci ricorda che si tratta di una lettera riferendosi a "tuo padre" e "tu", ricordandoci quindi che c'è un destinatario, ma la maggior parte delle volte non avviene.
Insomma, questo libro è un no da molti punti di vista. Si merita qualcosa per la bella copertina e per il fatto che la storia, di per sé, è estremamente bella: peccato che dovrebbe essere una biografia - e che, quindi, i fatti raccontati non sono frutto della fantasia dell'autrice - ma che non è fedele alla vita della protagonista.
Togliamoci insomma tutto il marketing, togliamo la copertina, togliamo l'idea che sia una biografia e togliamo tutte le frasi pubblicitarie: rimangono tre stelline.
Ma al giorno d'oggi il marketing lo possiamo togliere solo ipoteticamente, quindi le stelline sono due. E mezzo, magari.
August 11, 2011
This book tells the tale of a deeply flawed woman. Indeed, the interesting part of her narrating her own story seems, to me, her denial. She proves herself a rather unreliable narrator, focussing on the parts of her story she wishes to emphasize, minimizing those actions of hers that add up to her monstrosity. At the beginning of her story, one cannot help but empathize with Erzsebet. As the story unfolds, however, her claims of righteousness become more and more unbelievable. Having finished reading this book, I find myself asking, how do humans become monsters? Are they born with the capacity for monstrosity, or does life lived inject the monstrousness into the personalities and beings?
October 28, 2020
I could read it over and over again and it would be amazing, just like the first time.
September 6, 2012
I was very excited to read this book about the Coutness Bathory of Hungary, often referred to as the first felmale serial killer. Having a Hungarian heritage, I was very earger to know the true story about the Countess and the many murders she was accused of. Well, this book did not satisfy my curiosity. This reads more like a historical romance than a murder mystery. Esterbet doesn't even kill her first victim till 200 pages into the novel! In the whole book, only a dozen pages or so even detail the beatings that left so many young maidservants dead. While Johns does a good job of creating symptahy for the Countess, I feel that her crimes were a sidebar to the story and almost dismissed as a 'misunderstanding'. Yes, this reads as a memoir and the Countess surely would have this attitude, but these were actual horrific crimes, and it seems crass to completely disregard that. If anything, reading this book makes me want to find a non-fiction accont of these crimes. Who knows, some of the victims could have even been part of my own family tree?? Overall, this was a disappointing read.
February 28, 2013
Novels with unreliable narrators are always a puzzle. Is the storyteller crazy, or lying, or both? The truth is somewhere in there, but where? The story begins with Elizabeth imprisoned in a tower for the murders of dozens of young female servants. But is she guilty? Elizabeth tells her life story through her letters to her son. At first, Elizabeth seems like a sane, normal woman under an unusual amount of pressure. Singlehandedly managing half a dozen estates while your husband is away fighting the Turks ain't easy, y'all.
But as the story unfolds, Elizabeth's moral compass disappears, her sense of self-importance becomes cartoonishly inflated, and she is slowly revealed to be frighteningly crazy. It's a slow burn, and this book takes patience, but it's a fascinating psychological portrait.
I didn't sympathize with Elizabeth, but I understood how she became a monster. When she was a child, her mother taught her that a woman's happiness can only be achieved by making a man fall madly in love. At age 14, Elizabeth was married off to a man who ignored her for ten years while he waged war. When he occasionally came home, he slept with servant girls more often than he slept with her. Elizabeth agonized over her failure to secure his attention, and she took out her frustration on the servants, meting out harsh punishments to the girls who caught her husband's eye. Imagine public nudity, honey, and stinging insects. Yeah, it's CRAYCRAY.
When Elizabeth's husband observes her doling out an especially harsh punishment, he takes notice of her for the first time. After ten years of marriage, they finally bond over a shared penchant for sadism. When he offers to show her his own punishment techniques, he sounds as if he's asking her on a date. It's SICK, but Elizabeth describes the incident as if it's romantic. Girl is kuh-RAY-zee.
Elizabeth tells herself she's punishing the young women to keep them from stealing and screwing around with the stable boys. But she LIKES it. And the first time Elizabeth accidentally goes too far and beats a girl to death, she sleeps well and feels wonderful the next day. *shudder* Flash forward a few years, and every time Elizabeth experiences a setback or embarrassment, she beats a few servant girls to death to regain her composure and sense of control.
Even then, though, she thinks she is a benevolent mistress because she gives the girls a place to work, a warm fire by which to sleep, and food to eat. Her delusions of grandeur and innocence are fascinating, and the book ends satisfyingly: with Elizabeth punished like a common criminal.
Except for one incident, the violent episodes aren't described in detail, so the book is creepy but not too graphic. The tension develops slowly, so impatient readers would do well to skip this book. But if you enjoy history, a glimpse into feudal life, and psychological tension, I recommend it.
But as the story unfolds, Elizabeth's moral compass disappears, her sense of self-importance becomes cartoonishly inflated, and she is slowly revealed to be frighteningly crazy. It's a slow burn, and this book takes patience, but it's a fascinating psychological portrait.
I didn't sympathize with Elizabeth, but I understood how she became a monster. When she was a child, her mother taught her that a woman's happiness can only be achieved by making a man fall madly in love. At age 14, Elizabeth was married off to a man who ignored her for ten years while he waged war. When he occasionally came home, he slept with servant girls more often than he slept with her. Elizabeth agonized over her failure to secure his attention, and she took out her frustration on the servants, meting out harsh punishments to the girls who caught her husband's eye. Imagine public nudity, honey, and stinging insects. Yeah, it's CRAYCRAY.
When Elizabeth's husband observes her doling out an especially harsh punishment, he takes notice of her for the first time. After ten years of marriage, they finally bond over a shared penchant for sadism. When he offers to show her his own punishment techniques, he sounds as if he's asking her on a date. It's SICK, but Elizabeth describes the incident as if it's romantic. Girl is kuh-RAY-zee.
Elizabeth tells herself she's punishing the young women to keep them from stealing and screwing around with the stable boys. But she LIKES it. And the first time Elizabeth accidentally goes too far and beats a girl to death, she sleeps well and feels wonderful the next day. *shudder* Flash forward a few years, and every time Elizabeth experiences a setback or embarrassment, she beats a few servant girls to death to regain her composure and sense of control.
Even then, though, she thinks she is a benevolent mistress because she gives the girls a place to work, a warm fire by which to sleep, and food to eat. Her delusions of grandeur and innocence are fascinating, and the book ends satisfyingly: with Elizabeth punished like a common criminal.
Except for one incident, the violent episodes aren't described in detail, so the book is creepy but not too graphic. The tension develops slowly, so impatient readers would do well to skip this book. But if you enjoy history, a glimpse into feudal life, and psychological tension, I recommend it.
April 21, 2012
I think the author pretty much just read Tony Thorne's bio of Elizabeth Bathory, "Countess Dracula," and turned it into a fiction book (she even has the same trivial details as Thorne, such as list of food items brought in for a banquet). The portrayal of Bathory is the same old (new) portrayal we've been seeing in a recent spate of new movies, such as "The Countess" and "Bathory," in which the world's worst female serial killer is presented with this softer, gentler side, as if all of her crimes were just trumped up to harass her, a poor widow, and steal her land.
If you want a serious look at Bathory, read the bio "Infamous Lady" by Craft. Read the 300 testimonies of witnesses in the appendix, plus the trial transcripts, which describe the beatings, tortures and killing administered by and to this woman's servants every day. All of that is fact, not fiction. And if you really want to see just how twisted Bathory was, read "The Private Letters" also by Craft that translates the letters this crazy woman wrote: how, while she was killing girls in her mansion across from a monastery, she was writing letters about getting the mansion roof repaired. If you can find it (it's out of print), read McNally's bio, "Dracula Was a Woman," who describes how she bit a chunk of flesh right out of a girl and beat another to a bloody pulp with a cudgel. Heck, read Thorne, too if you can find it (also out of print)!
Bathory never wrote any poignant letters to her son. Rather, it was her son, at the age of 12, who was writing letters to the prime minister, begging for help to keep his mother from going to the executioner's block.
Read your history about this evil woman, not all the b.s. fiction out there.
If you want a serious look at Bathory, read the bio "Infamous Lady" by Craft. Read the 300 testimonies of witnesses in the appendix, plus the trial transcripts, which describe the beatings, tortures and killing administered by and to this woman's servants every day. All of that is fact, not fiction. And if you really want to see just how twisted Bathory was, read "The Private Letters" also by Craft that translates the letters this crazy woman wrote: how, while she was killing girls in her mansion across from a monastery, she was writing letters about getting the mansion roof repaired. If you can find it (it's out of print), read McNally's bio, "Dracula Was a Woman," who describes how she bit a chunk of flesh right out of a girl and beat another to a bloody pulp with a cudgel. Heck, read Thorne, too if you can find it (also out of print)!
Bathory never wrote any poignant letters to her son. Rather, it was her son, at the age of 12, who was writing letters to the prime minister, begging for help to keep his mother from going to the executioner's block.
Read your history about this evil woman, not all the b.s. fiction out there.
June 18, 2019
Sinceramente, creo que esta novela se acerca bastante a lo que realmente pudo ser el personaje de la condesa Báthory, sin los añadidos de la leyenda negra. ¿Eso es malo? No. La historia nos cuenta la vida de una mujer con mucho poder político que fue engañada y traicionada por amigos y familiares para apartarla del poder (me ha recordado mucho a Juana la loca), aunque para ello tuvieran que inventarse toda la historia por la que realmente se ha conocido al personaje, y no por todo lo que hizo, que para una mujer en su época fue bastante.
¿Es lo que el lector busca en esta novela? Pues depende, si vas buscando una historia en la que se cuenten los crímenes de este personaje, este no es tu libro. No aparece nada de eso, y lo que aparece lo cubren con el velo de los castigos a la servidumbre (que en esa época era lo común en la nobleza).
Me ha parecido una buena novela, que es muy ligera de leer, aunque me hubiera gustado más que no hubiera habido tantos saltos en el tiempo.
¿Es lo que el lector busca en esta novela? Pues depende, si vas buscando una historia en la que se cuenten los crímenes de este personaje, este no es tu libro. No aparece nada de eso, y lo que aparece lo cubren con el velo de los castigos a la servidumbre (que en esa época era lo común en la nobleza).
Me ha parecido una buena novela, que es muy ligera de leer, aunque me hubiera gustado más que no hubiera habido tantos saltos en el tiempo.
March 20, 2015
"A Condessa" foi mais um daqueles livros que me chamou a atenção pela capa e somente depois pela sinopse. Contudo, esperava um livro diferente, mais brutal, mais negro, mais sangrento. Ainda assim, foi uma leitura agradável e da qual posso dizer que gostei.
October 19, 2023
Książka "Hrabina. Tragiczna historia Elżbiety Batory" autorstwa Rebecci Johns to jak misterny haft na płótnie historii, ukazujący postać Erzsebet Bathory w niezwykle delikatny sposób. Jak rzeka czasu, autorka prowadzi nas przez dzieje tej kontrowersyjnej postaci, nie oceniając, lecz opisując w sposób zarówno subtelny, jak i bogaty.
Rozpoczynamy naszą podróż w młodości Elżbiety, kiedy jeszcze była niezbyt znaną siostrzenicą Stefana Batorego. To chwila, w której musi opuścić swój rodzinny dom, by poślubić Nádasdego ku zadowoleniu całej współczesnej szlachty. Ale byłoby zbyt pięknie... Erzsebet przez dłuższy czas była niewidzialna dla narzeczonego. Dopiero po dłuższym czasie i ujawnieniu swej skłonności do przemocy to małżeństwo znalazło nić porozumienia. Elżbieta zostaje wplątana w rolę żony i kochanki mając zaledwie 11 lat, ale szybko odnajduje w świecie pełnym misternych intryg, gry o władzę i cieni przemocy. To początek przemiany, którą autorka ukazuje w sposób, który pozwala zrozumieć jej późniejsze czyny.
Co tak wyjątkowego można znaleźć w tej opowieści? To przede wszystkim sposób, w jaki autorka unika oceniania postaci Elżbiety Bathory - to jeden z najpiękniejszych aspektów tej książki. Johns pozwala jej historii rozkwitać, jak kwiat, który kształtuje się pod wpływem czasu i losu. Nie spieszy się, opowiada w spokojnym tempie, pozwalając nam wejść w świat hrabiny. Przybliża jej młodość, trudne małżeńskie początki, macierzyństwo, a także zuchwałą brutalność wobec służby. Czytelnik ma okazję poznać Erzsebet Bathory jako złożoną postać, która wzbudza zarówno współczucie, jak i lęk. Książka ukazuje świat szlachty i niewyobrażalne bogactwo, które przesiąknięte jest cierpieniem i krwią, ale także emocje i ludzkie relacje.
Erzsebet Bathory, jak to przedstawia Rebecca Johns, to postać nie tylko kontrowersyjna, ale także złożona. W książce ukazuje się, że hrabina nie widziała swojego postępowania jako czegoś złego. W jej własnym rozumowaniu, wprowadzała dyscyplinę w swoim dworze i surowo karała wszelką niesubordynację. Jej brutalność wobec służby i panien oddanych jej pod opiekę była dla niej wyrazem władzy i kontroli. Erzsebet wierzyła, że to jedyny sposób, aby utrzymać porządek i posłuszeństwo w zamku. Dla niej te surowe metody były nie tylko akceptowalne, ale wręcz konieczne.
To podejście Erzsebet Bathory, które przedstawia autorka w książce, można interpretować jako zwiastun jej pogubienia i pragnienia uwagi. Hrabina, która była wzgardzana przez kochanków i z czasem traciła młodzieńczą świeżość, mogła zacząć wierzyć, że jedynym sposobem na zwrócenie na siebie uwagi było stosowanie drastycznych środków i okrucieństwa wobec innych. W tej interpretacji jej brutalne metody mogły być próbą utrzymania młodości i przyciągnięcia uwagi, co stanowiło źródło jej samowątpliwości i obsesyjnej potrzeby uznania. To zagłębienie się w mroczne i brutalne praktyki mogło być skutkiem jej własnych lęków i frustracji.
Ta subtelna, a zarazem przerażająca cezura w postrzeganiu własnych działań dodaje kolejnej warstwy złożoności postaci hrabiny. To, jak autorka ukazuje jej przekonanie o słuszności tych czynów, tylko pogłębia nasze zainteresowanie i współczucie wobec tej postaci. Erzsebet Bathory, jak ją widzimy w tej książce, to nie tylko demoniczna postać, ale też człowiek z własnymi przekonaniami i racjonalizacjami. Jest to fascynujący aspekt postaci Erzsebet Bathory, który dodaje głębi i złożoności jej charakterowi, a także wskazuje na to, że jej los i postępowanie były wynikiem wielu czynników, zarówno wewnętrznych, jak i zewnętrznych.
Chociaż nie znajdziemy tu bardziej drastycznych opisów rzekomych morderstw i krawawych kąpieli, to autorka rekompensuje to emocjami zawartymi w tekście. Jej piękny, misterny styl pisania przyciąga czytelnika, a fascynacja postacią Erzsebet Bathory wzrasta w miarę, jak przemierzamy strony książki.
Osobiście, ta opowieść zachwyciła mnie i skradła moje serce. Już jako młoda osoba zafascynowana historią, przeczytałam wiele artykułów o hrabinie Bathory, a ta książka spełniła moje oczekiwania. Głód wiedzy na temat Erzsebet Bathory został jeszcze bardziej zaostrzony po przeczytaniu tej książki.
Podsumowując, "Hrabina. Tragiczna historia Elżbiety Batory" to lektura, która skradnie serce każdego miłośnika historii i literatury. Rebecca Johns stworzyła misterną opowieść o kontrowersyjnej postaci, która wciąga czytelnika w świat szlachty, intryg i niewyobrażalnego bogactwa. To nie tylko historia Hrabiny z Siedmiogrodu, to opowieść o epoce, ludziach i emocjach, które ją ukształtowały, jak sonata wciąż grająca w duszy czytelnika. Gorąco polecam!
Rozpoczynamy naszą podróż w młodości Elżbiety, kiedy jeszcze była niezbyt znaną siostrzenicą Stefana Batorego. To chwila, w której musi opuścić swój rodzinny dom, by poślubić Nádasdego ku zadowoleniu całej współczesnej szlachty. Ale byłoby zbyt pięknie... Erzsebet przez dłuższy czas była niewidzialna dla narzeczonego. Dopiero po dłuższym czasie i ujawnieniu swej skłonności do przemocy to małżeństwo znalazło nić porozumienia. Elżbieta zostaje wplątana w rolę żony i kochanki mając zaledwie 11 lat, ale szybko odnajduje w świecie pełnym misternych intryg, gry o władzę i cieni przemocy. To początek przemiany, którą autorka ukazuje w sposób, który pozwala zrozumieć jej późniejsze czyny.
Co tak wyjątkowego można znaleźć w tej opowieści? To przede wszystkim sposób, w jaki autorka unika oceniania postaci Elżbiety Bathory - to jeden z najpiękniejszych aspektów tej książki. Johns pozwala jej historii rozkwitać, jak kwiat, który kształtuje się pod wpływem czasu i losu. Nie spieszy się, opowiada w spokojnym tempie, pozwalając nam wejść w świat hrabiny. Przybliża jej młodość, trudne małżeńskie początki, macierzyństwo, a także zuchwałą brutalność wobec służby. Czytelnik ma okazję poznać Erzsebet Bathory jako złożoną postać, która wzbudza zarówno współczucie, jak i lęk. Książka ukazuje świat szlachty i niewyobrażalne bogactwo, które przesiąknięte jest cierpieniem i krwią, ale także emocje i ludzkie relacje.
Erzsebet Bathory, jak to przedstawia Rebecca Johns, to postać nie tylko kontrowersyjna, ale także złożona. W książce ukazuje się, że hrabina nie widziała swojego postępowania jako czegoś złego. W jej własnym rozumowaniu, wprowadzała dyscyplinę w swoim dworze i surowo karała wszelką niesubordynację. Jej brutalność wobec służby i panien oddanych jej pod opiekę była dla niej wyrazem władzy i kontroli. Erzsebet wierzyła, że to jedyny sposób, aby utrzymać porządek i posłuszeństwo w zamku. Dla niej te surowe metody były nie tylko akceptowalne, ale wręcz konieczne.
To podejście Erzsebet Bathory, które przedstawia autorka w książce, można interpretować jako zwiastun jej pogubienia i pragnienia uwagi. Hrabina, która była wzgardzana przez kochanków i z czasem traciła młodzieńczą świeżość, mogła zacząć wierzyć, że jedynym sposobem na zwrócenie na siebie uwagi było stosowanie drastycznych środków i okrucieństwa wobec innych. W tej interpretacji jej brutalne metody mogły być próbą utrzymania młodości i przyciągnięcia uwagi, co stanowiło źródło jej samowątpliwości i obsesyjnej potrzeby uznania. To zagłębienie się w mroczne i brutalne praktyki mogło być skutkiem jej własnych lęków i frustracji.
Ta subtelna, a zarazem przerażająca cezura w postrzeganiu własnych działań dodaje kolejnej warstwy złożoności postaci hrabiny. To, jak autorka ukazuje jej przekonanie o słuszności tych czynów, tylko pogłębia nasze zainteresowanie i współczucie wobec tej postaci. Erzsebet Bathory, jak ją widzimy w tej książce, to nie tylko demoniczna postać, ale też człowiek z własnymi przekonaniami i racjonalizacjami. Jest to fascynujący aspekt postaci Erzsebet Bathory, który dodaje głębi i złożoności jej charakterowi, a także wskazuje na to, że jej los i postępowanie były wynikiem wielu czynników, zarówno wewnętrznych, jak i zewnętrznych.
Chociaż nie znajdziemy tu bardziej drastycznych opisów rzekomych morderstw i krawawych kąpieli, to autorka rekompensuje to emocjami zawartymi w tekście. Jej piękny, misterny styl pisania przyciąga czytelnika, a fascynacja postacią Erzsebet Bathory wzrasta w miarę, jak przemierzamy strony książki.
Osobiście, ta opowieść zachwyciła mnie i skradła moje serce. Już jako młoda osoba zafascynowana historią, przeczytałam wiele artykułów o hrabinie Bathory, a ta książka spełniła moje oczekiwania. Głód wiedzy na temat Erzsebet Bathory został jeszcze bardziej zaostrzony po przeczytaniu tej książki.
Podsumowując, "Hrabina. Tragiczna historia Elżbiety Batory" to lektura, która skradnie serce każdego miłośnika historii i literatury. Rebecca Johns stworzyła misterną opowieść o kontrowersyjnej postaci, która wciąga czytelnika w świat szlachty, intryg i niewyobrażalnego bogactwa. To nie tylko historia Hrabiny z Siedmiogrodu, to opowieść o epoce, ludziach i emocjach, które ją ukształtowały, jak sonata wciąż grająca w duszy czytelnika. Gorąco polecam!
April 15, 2023
This was somewhere between "it was okay" to "I liked it". It gripped me for chapters, then lost me at others, but I kept coming back to it.
This is a novel about Countess Báthory's life. Whispers spread across the lands that she is a murderer, a vampire, a witch who bathes in the blood of her victims. Young girls become maidservants only to disappear and never be heard from again. To present Countess Báthory's side of the story, The Countess is an account of her life, as written through her eyes in letters to her son Pál.
As she writes, the last fire that she will have lit in the hearth is dying, and she sits in a tower where her door has been removed. In lieu of a door a mason and his son carefully lay stones that will seal Countess Báthory into the tower, only a slit will remain. The stones are already setting where her once large window has been reduced to show only a sliver of the sky.
I rather enjoyed reading about Countess Báthory's life through the letters to her son. While she never outright claims to be an innocent woman, she makes an attempt to defend her actions. In doing so, insight into the workings of her mind and her life present themselves. I thought the author did a good job of portraying Countess Báthory's eagerness to be loved, her vanity, moments clarity and cleverness, and moments of blinding rage and foolishness too. The added depth of her relationship with each of her children added an extra layer to her that made me wonder how she could be so bloodthirsty and soft at the same time.
Her character is complex and cruel. While parts of this novel are quite dark, I wouldn't say that this story is a tale of horror. It's definitely literary read and at times it felt slow. There is a great volume of discussion that takes place regarding the politics of the time. But in it's own way, it works very well if you like that kind of read.
This is a novel about Countess Báthory's life. Whispers spread across the lands that she is a murderer, a vampire, a witch who bathes in the blood of her victims. Young girls become maidservants only to disappear and never be heard from again. To present Countess Báthory's side of the story, The Countess is an account of her life, as written through her eyes in letters to her son Pál.
As she writes, the last fire that she will have lit in the hearth is dying, and she sits in a tower where her door has been removed. In lieu of a door a mason and his son carefully lay stones that will seal Countess Báthory into the tower, only a slit will remain. The stones are already setting where her once large window has been reduced to show only a sliver of the sky.
I rather enjoyed reading about Countess Báthory's life through the letters to her son. While she never outright claims to be an innocent woman, she makes an attempt to defend her actions. In doing so, insight into the workings of her mind and her life present themselves. I thought the author did a good job of portraying Countess Báthory's eagerness to be loved, her vanity, moments clarity and cleverness, and moments of blinding rage and foolishness too. The added depth of her relationship with each of her children added an extra layer to her that made me wonder how she could be so bloodthirsty and soft at the same time.
Her character is complex and cruel. While parts of this novel are quite dark, I wouldn't say that this story is a tale of horror. It's definitely literary read and at times it felt slow. There is a great volume of discussion that takes place regarding the politics of the time. But in it's own way, it works very well if you like that kind of read.
January 21, 2018
Este livro foi uma verdadeira desilusão! Na capa diz “a mulher que inspirou Drácula de Bram Stoker. Um romance fascinante e macabro sobre a primeira assassina em série da História”. Com este texto chamativo, estava à espera de muito sangue, terror, e uma personagem principal inesquecível na sua maldade. Puro engano!
A tal assassina em série é Erzsébert Báthory, uma condessa húngara nascida na segunda metade do século XVI que foi emparedada viva na torre do seu castelo após ter sido acusada de assassinar, sem dó nem piedade, várias criadas e damas de companhia.
O problema é que a autora tenta redimir a personagem histórica, torná-la “soft” e, como tal, os castigos que ela aplicava às criadas – e que devem ter sido extremamente sádicos – são relegados para segundo plano. Ou seja, aquilo que devia ser o motor da história, acaba por passar despercebido e Erzsébert Báthory é mais uma fidalga, com problemas de fidalga, como outra fidalga qualquer. Não percebemos a dimensão do horror, não acompanhamos o desenvolvimento da tal “assassina em série”. Há passagens interessantes sobre a cultura e política húngaras, mas, de resto, um livro falhado.
A tal assassina em série é Erzsébert Báthory, uma condessa húngara nascida na segunda metade do século XVI que foi emparedada viva na torre do seu castelo após ter sido acusada de assassinar, sem dó nem piedade, várias criadas e damas de companhia.
O problema é que a autora tenta redimir a personagem histórica, torná-la “soft” e, como tal, os castigos que ela aplicava às criadas – e que devem ter sido extremamente sádicos – são relegados para segundo plano. Ou seja, aquilo que devia ser o motor da história, acaba por passar despercebido e Erzsébert Báthory é mais uma fidalga, com problemas de fidalga, como outra fidalga qualquer. Não percebemos a dimensão do horror, não acompanhamos o desenvolvimento da tal “assassina em série”. Há passagens interessantes sobre a cultura e política húngaras, mas, de resto, um livro falhado.
May 12, 2020
Un libro interesante, bien redactado. Te hace pensar sobre como eran los tiempos y las convivencias en esas épocas.
September 28, 2017
3.7 stars
June 6, 2012
Mmmmmeeehhhh!
I have always been interested in the story of the Countess Bathory so when i saw this book I just had to buy it. It started off slow but as soon as I was about to loose interest the story begins to pick up and even get a little juicy. In a weird it was kind of like reading about the latest gossip but not really. Its hard to describe the feeling I had when I read certain sections. Rebecca Johns makes the book a smooth read although I can not say that I was not disappointed in the portrayal of Countess Bathory.
Lets start with what I did enjoy. I liked the section of the book that concentrates on her life before and during marriage period, as well as a small part of her later life. The story during these sections kept building my interest towards the main character and her life and aspirations. I felt pulled into the story and I excited about the power this woman exuded. I feel like the best sections in the book are when the protagonist displays her strength and passion.
What i feel was a major let down of this book was the odd twist the story starts to develop in the mid 'second section'. It's weird to understand if you haven't read the book but its separated into sections and so the second half of the book focuses on her later years. I saw a drastic turn in the Countess's prowess. To me she almost became in a way like Madame Bovary. The two novels are not to be compared because, to me, they have no real similarities. However; I bring it up because I saw a side of John's Bathory that reminded me of the same feelings i got when I read Madame Bovary. I know this may seem like a lousy review but honestly I think you will understand if you read this book. Not to say anything negative about the classic but I wanted more from Bathory. I wanted to learn more about the powerful woman behind the story of blood and vanity and I feel like all I got was a lousy t-shirt of some sort.
The ending...well actually the whole story left a lot to be desired. I would not have minded for the book to be longer because I kept waiting for greatness but all I could muster was disappointment. It built a good foundation but as the blocks were being piled higher the structure started to shake, wiggle, and sway and ultimately it was a FLOP!
I have always been interested in the story of the Countess Bathory so when i saw this book I just had to buy it. It started off slow but as soon as I was about to loose interest the story begins to pick up and even get a little juicy. In a weird it was kind of like reading about the latest gossip but not really. Its hard to describe the feeling I had when I read certain sections. Rebecca Johns makes the book a smooth read although I can not say that I was not disappointed in the portrayal of Countess Bathory.
Lets start with what I did enjoy. I liked the section of the book that concentrates on her life before and during marriage period, as well as a small part of her later life. The story during these sections kept building my interest towards the main character and her life and aspirations. I felt pulled into the story and I excited about the power this woman exuded. I feel like the best sections in the book are when the protagonist displays her strength and passion.
What i feel was a major let down of this book was the odd twist the story starts to develop in the mid 'second section'. It's weird to understand if you haven't read the book but its separated into sections and so the second half of the book focuses on her later years. I saw a drastic turn in the Countess's prowess. To me she almost became in a way like Madame Bovary. The two novels are not to be compared because, to me, they have no real similarities. However; I bring it up because I saw a side of John's Bathory that reminded me of the same feelings i got when I read Madame Bovary. I know this may seem like a lousy review but honestly I think you will understand if you read this book. Not to say anything negative about the classic but I wanted more from Bathory. I wanted to learn more about the powerful woman behind the story of blood and vanity and I feel like all I got was a lousy t-shirt of some sort.
The ending...well actually the whole story left a lot to be desired. I would not have minded for the book to be longer because I kept waiting for greatness but all I could muster was disappointment. It built a good foundation but as the blocks were being piled higher the structure started to shake, wiggle, and sway and ultimately it was a FLOP!
January 11, 2017
Some of you may know of the Blood Countess or the Countess Dracula, the most prolific female serial killer of all time. Born in the Kingdom of Hungary in 1560, she was accused of killing hundreds of young women and some accounts say she murdered up to 650 victims.
When she was eventually caught and faced trial in 1609, she was walled up in a tower in solitary confinement until her death five years later in 1614. It was said Bathory bathed in the blood of her victims to preserve her beauty, but where does fact end and folklore begin?
Author Rebecca Johns attempts to address this in her fictionalised account of Elizabeth Bathory's life in her historical novel The Countess.
Johns takes us through Bathory's childhood growing up in a noble family in 16th Century Hungary, and walks us through her life in a first person narrative. We see her mature from a young girl and face fear, self-doubt, loneliness, love, heartbreak, loss, grief, anger and frustration.
Johns paints a clear picture of the responsibilities of a Countess to run several households and the disappointment and betrayal Bathory feels when her maidservants steal from her or sleep with her husband. Bathory beats them and many of them die, and we get a unique insight during all of this with privileged access to her - albeit fictionalised - thoughts.
What The Countess doesn't do (and cannot do) is respond to, answer or address the accusations Bathory ever bathed in blood. Many of these myths and accounts of Bathory occurred long after her death and it's difficult to address in a fictionalised account of an historical figure, but perhaps this could have been accomplished by a Author's Note at the end.
Countess Elizabeth Bathory's life and crimes have inspired countless artists to reference her in novels, comics, stage plays, operas, songs, TV shows, movies, and even video games. (Don't believe me? Check it out on Wikipedia).
I enjoyed this account of Bathory's life in The Countess, but I finished reading it with a feeling her crimes had been blown out of all proportion, and she wasn't the devil incarnate. Perhaps that was the point all along.
When she was eventually caught and faced trial in 1609, she was walled up in a tower in solitary confinement until her death five years later in 1614. It was said Bathory bathed in the blood of her victims to preserve her beauty, but where does fact end and folklore begin?
Author Rebecca Johns attempts to address this in her fictionalised account of Elizabeth Bathory's life in her historical novel The Countess.
Johns takes us through Bathory's childhood growing up in a noble family in 16th Century Hungary, and walks us through her life in a first person narrative. We see her mature from a young girl and face fear, self-doubt, loneliness, love, heartbreak, loss, grief, anger and frustration.
Johns paints a clear picture of the responsibilities of a Countess to run several households and the disappointment and betrayal Bathory feels when her maidservants steal from her or sleep with her husband. Bathory beats them and many of them die, and we get a unique insight during all of this with privileged access to her - albeit fictionalised - thoughts.
What The Countess doesn't do (and cannot do) is respond to, answer or address the accusations Bathory ever bathed in blood. Many of these myths and accounts of Bathory occurred long after her death and it's difficult to address in a fictionalised account of an historical figure, but perhaps this could have been accomplished by a Author's Note at the end.
Countess Elizabeth Bathory's life and crimes have inspired countless artists to reference her in novels, comics, stage plays, operas, songs, TV shows, movies, and even video games. (Don't believe me? Check it out on Wikipedia).
I enjoyed this account of Bathory's life in The Countess, but I finished reading it with a feeling her crimes had been blown out of all proportion, and she wasn't the devil incarnate. Perhaps that was the point all along.
October 17, 2010
I went to high school with the author!
The Countess: A Novel tells the tale of Erzsébet Báthory, the Blood Countess, of Hungary. I had never heard of the countess, so I was eager to read this book. I seem to have a fascination for evil people and what makes them tick. And, with a moniker like the "Blood Countess" I was anticipating some True Blood type antics throughout the novel. While I am not a sadist or masochist, I enjoy reading about the cruelties humans perpetrate upon each other.
I truly enjoyed the historical aspect of this novel, especially considering 1600s Hungary is not a time period I've studied in any depth. Johns provided not only considrable biographical information of Báthory's family line and that of her bethrothed, but also of the political climate of the region.
The vast majority of the book was spent with Erzsébet's youth and the early years of her marriage. While this did explain her fastidiousness in running a household, all of the background felt like too much exposition. Basically, I was looking forward to reading about her monstrosities, but there was very little of that in the novel. There was truly no revelation as to why she was the Blood Countess. One could extrapolate from the few gory scenes presented just how ruthless Báthory could be, but I was wanting more.
The Countess, rather than becoming feared and loathed by the reader becomes a very sympathetic character. I could feel the pain of isolation early in her marriage. I could empathize with her infertility and her loss. I could feel her frustration of being solely responsible for the household and help while her husband was off galavanting and fighting wars. But, again, I didn't want to like her. I wanted to be horrified by her misdeeds and actions. Instead, I found myself wanting to befriend her.
Overall, The Countess provided great background knowledge of an historical figure I knew very little about, but I will be looking for other accounts of her life that show her more hideous side.
The Countess: A Novel tells the tale of Erzsébet Báthory, the Blood Countess, of Hungary. I had never heard of the countess, so I was eager to read this book. I seem to have a fascination for evil people and what makes them tick. And, with a moniker like the "Blood Countess" I was anticipating some True Blood type antics throughout the novel. While I am not a sadist or masochist, I enjoy reading about the cruelties humans perpetrate upon each other.
I truly enjoyed the historical aspect of this novel, especially considering 1600s Hungary is not a time period I've studied in any depth. Johns provided not only considrable biographical information of Báthory's family line and that of her bethrothed, but also of the political climate of the region.
The vast majority of the book was spent with Erzsébet's youth and the early years of her marriage. While this did explain her fastidiousness in running a household, all of the background felt like too much exposition. Basically, I was looking forward to reading about her monstrosities, but there was very little of that in the novel. There was truly no revelation as to why she was the Blood Countess. One could extrapolate from the few gory scenes presented just how ruthless Báthory could be, but I was wanting more.
The Countess, rather than becoming feared and loathed by the reader becomes a very sympathetic character. I could feel the pain of isolation early in her marriage. I could empathize with her infertility and her loss. I could feel her frustration of being solely responsible for the household and help while her husband was off galavanting and fighting wars. But, again, I didn't want to like her. I wanted to be horrified by her misdeeds and actions. Instead, I found myself wanting to befriend her.
Overall, The Countess provided great background knowledge of an historical figure I knew very little about, but I will be looking for other accounts of her life that show her more hideous side.
July 17, 2016
I really enjoyed this one. Although historical fiction, many of the items are true to history (as we know it of course). I felt that the author did a great job giving us the background of the woman who would come to be known as Countess Dracula. I especially found the gypsy story at the beginning of the book interesting; although I don't know if it's true or not. If it is true then it shows that even as a young girl, she had a cruel streak. If not then the author cleverly inserted a little fiction to show that she didn't just wake up one day and decided to be a cruel, tormenting psycho.
One almost has to wonder if the author is sympathetic to Elizabeth but I don't think she is. I believe she is simply telling us the story from Elizabeth's POV. Elizabeth didn't think that she was wrong, she thought that what she was doing was within her right. I think a lot of people expect blood and gore, and it is mentioned but not in great detail for the most part. Honestly, I preferred it this way; the stories that were elaborated upon were bad enough.
I will say this, while I think that what was said of her is 100% true, I believe that those who finally decided to persecute her did it for political reasons and personal gain. The stories about her cruelties had been told for years yet there was no action taken. Not only did the King/Royal Family owe her money, her estates were noteworthy. Really interesting story and I recommend it to anyone who loves fiction and/or history. I wish that it was longer.
The narrator was outstanding. I really enjoyed her reading voice and accents.
One almost has to wonder if the author is sympathetic to Elizabeth but I don't think she is. I believe she is simply telling us the story from Elizabeth's POV. Elizabeth didn't think that she was wrong, she thought that what she was doing was within her right. I think a lot of people expect blood and gore, and it is mentioned but not in great detail for the most part. Honestly, I preferred it this way; the stories that were elaborated upon were bad enough.
I will say this, while I think that what was said of her is 100% true, I believe that those who finally decided to persecute her did it for political reasons and personal gain. The stories about her cruelties had been told for years yet there was no action taken. Not only did the King/Royal Family owe her money, her estates were noteworthy. Really interesting story and I recommend it to anyone who loves fiction and/or history. I wish that it was longer.
The narrator was outstanding. I really enjoyed her reading voice and accents.
June 17, 2024
3.5 out of 5
Erzsébet (or the Anglicized "Elizabeth") Báthory is as widely vilified and infamous as far as she is known today. The scandal of a noblewoman killing servants in order to live forever as one myth goes, or to punish them as an assertion of power as this novel posits, is guaranteed to garner attention, as much now as it was back then. While prevalent modern-day historical opinion believes her to be largely innocent of the horrendous charges leveled against her (both in her time and after her downfall/death), Ms. John's first-person novel is not afraid to show the Countess in all her glory, vanity, cruelty and ignorance.
A spoiled, entitled, cruel noblewoman, Erzsébet may be quite hard to stomach for some readers, but I feel Johns did a remarkable job of "humanizing" the polarizing lady, as well as providing sufficient details to doubt and question just exactly who and what was behind her walled-in imprisonment within her own home. Yes, Erzsébet is still an awful, awful human being, but she is not a caricature of herself, nor is she an overblown monster - Johns hit a nice balance between the macabre and the ridiculous.
Told in the loose form of Erzsébet writing a letter to her beloved son Pal as she is being walled in, The Countess offers a hard-to-put-down look at the life of one of history's most famous personages in her own style and voice.
Erzsébet (or the Anglicized "Elizabeth") Báthory is as widely vilified and infamous as far as she is known today. The scandal of a noblewoman killing servants in order to live forever as one myth goes, or to punish them as an assertion of power as this novel posits, is guaranteed to garner attention, as much now as it was back then. While prevalent modern-day historical opinion believes her to be largely innocent of the horrendous charges leveled against her (both in her time and after her downfall/death), Ms. John's first-person novel is not afraid to show the Countess in all her glory, vanity, cruelty and ignorance.
A spoiled, entitled, cruel noblewoman, Erzsébet may be quite hard to stomach for some readers, but I feel Johns did a remarkable job of "humanizing" the polarizing lady, as well as providing sufficient details to doubt and question just exactly who and what was behind her walled-in imprisonment within her own home. Yes, Erzsébet is still an awful, awful human being, but she is not a caricature of herself, nor is she an overblown monster - Johns hit a nice balance between the macabre and the ridiculous.
Told in the loose form of Erzsébet writing a letter to her beloved son Pal as she is being walled in, The Countess offers a hard-to-put-down look at the life of one of history's most famous personages in her own style and voice.
September 6, 2013
The Countess by Rebecca Johns. 3.5 actually. It's the story of Elisabeth Bartoldy told through her own eyes as a memoir, being bricked up in a tower of one of her own castles and told she would not leave alive. This was based on 3 books of her and the period itself. One was about aristocratic children in the beginning of the early modern era in Hungary, how they were raised, what was expected of them, and how they were supposed to live their lives, and cruelty to serfs was not illegal. It was considered disciplinary, and the noblepersons did have life and death control. Elisabet never felt she was out of line, and many of the servants died. She also got in trouble with the Hungarian powers that be in wanting a loan from her husband to be paid back which may have more to do with her arrest and punishment than the murders, and also incidentally, the torture and murder of most of her servants. One became very aware of the fear of the Turks who had successfully made inroads into 1600's Hungary, and the Hapsburg dynasty in Austria, also inroads, and there were competing nobility in Hungary itself. The characters were very 3 dimensional and one could relate to them. And I got quite a view of 17th century Hungary.
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