I, Coriander

[lady_schrapnell]

Just finished this today, and going to postpone writing about Shug and Dairy Queen yet again, as I want to get some thoughts jotted down before they all jumble too much. (Thinking about this one in light of Charlie's next project, on the historical in children's lit. )

I'd seen this in bookshops and been attracted by the cover (while also regularly confusing it with the equally attractive Celandine), and had thought it was a purely historical, rather than a historical-cum-fantasy or vice versa. It won the gold award in the Nestlé Children's Book Prize - though why the fact that Sally Gardner overcame dyslexia should seem the most important thing about the book I find hard to understand - and came full of glowing reviews, which I won't bother to quote. And this seemed as if it was a book I should love: set in London during the 1640s to 50s, with a trip to Faerie (and back again), a heroine determined to save her love, evil stepmothers - oh wait. That's part of what I don't love, but how to organise this, I'm not so sure. I kept thinking about the comment (quoted by Charlie in a recent talk) of Alan Garner's about the 'what if corral', as he (C.) put it - 'the idea that in fantasy, as in all fiction, there must be coherence to whatever rules you have set in place'. And I thought this 'corral' had gaps in the fantastic, in the relation of the supernatural to the realist (or historical) and in the realist strand. And possibly even more worryingly - there's a three-fold parallel in the story, which seems to me to lead to a rather unpleasant ideological end-place. I'm putting this behind a cut, as it's really not a review of any kind, but more a look at a book that was of interest for very particular reasons, through a very particular lens. And it's 100% spoiler, too, so this may be for an audience of - well, one.

Before I get to the real stuff, and just for the record - 'an extraordinarily beautiful and gripping tale, but what astonishes is Gardner's prose' (Amanda Craig, in a review I'll return to). Well, varying mileage and all, but there times when I found it went from beautiful prose to overwritten tosh.

To start with the here and then, of London - the book opens in 1649, when Coriander is 6 years old, (okay, there's a framing device of Coriander writing her story, sitting in her house by the Thames, year unspecified). This section is vivid (though 'as vivid as Pepys' diary'?) and is just the kind of (children's) historical fiction I love - rich with detail of everyday life, and feeling as if you are getting a real chance to empathically experience life in another time. Rosemary Sutcliff's The Armourer's House or The Queen Elizabeth Story, (Simon too, for a book in the same period, though that wasn't quite as much a favourite), the gloriously OTT Towers in the Mist, for Elizabethan soap opera, not to mention the practically perfect The Perilous Gard, all loved dearly. A few details felt wrong, and it really threw me out when I came across them (I've set Charlie on them, and some are actually inaccurate, in all likelihood), though how many children would be bothered, I don't know. But mostly things were swimming, until (and no surprise here, or real spoiler, I think, so heavily foreshadowed was it) Coriander's mother dies. And the father, in that classic trope of children's fiction of later periods, went so to pieces that he was no use to anyone, and agreed to go to Bristol (!) to get himself a good Puritan wife who'd be enough to fend off the threats of persecution for his Royalist tendencies. Uh - sorry? It's later shown that the wife, Maud, is used by the Queen of Fairie, Rosmore, but as Rosmore has no influence on the father, which would explain his idiocy in carrying through on this ludicrous plan, or in later abandoning Coriander to one of the nastiest stepmothers ever, this seems a bit difficult to swallow. Oh, and what a surprise - Maud is fat and ugly (or is it tautological even to mention the 'ugly'?) as well as nasty. And she rants and raves about God and the Lord Jesus, while bringing in a 'twisted' preacher (hey - again, it's nice that his body says all that needs to be said about his character, isn't it?) to complete the terrorizing of Coriander, her new step-sister Hester, and the loyal-till-death family servant, Danes. The father completes his too-sorrowful-to-deal-with-anything act by running away to the continent, after he gets a warning of his coming arrest.

All this supposedly puritanical evil (and it is worth pointing out that the stepmother and preacher, Arise, are not really religious fanatics, as they're entirely hypocritical in their use of religion in which they don't believe) leads to Coriander's being locked in a large chest by Arise and left for dead. We now cut to Faerie, and I'll deal with that later, but coming back to herself in the chest after an overnight there (chest and Faerie), Coriander is rescued by the family friend (and tailor) Master Thankless, to find eventually that three years have passed in London. And - interestingly - the first thing her rescuer says when they hear noise from the chest is 'Oddsfish! She is alive!' As you do. Right, so Coriander is now 15, her father is still away, Danes has gone to find him, Hester was abused until nearly dead (which is the reason for her slight delay in managing to get help for Coriander), the few loyal friends rally around and only make amazed noises about the fact that Coriander survived three years locked in a chest without food or water, and the evil stepmother and Arise are still in possession of the father's house, have got rid of most of his possessions and it's filthy. Of course. (She's fat and he's twisted, come on!)

There's now a shift in the narrative for a couple of chapters, as Hester tells the story of her life, up until her mother's marriage to Coriander's father, and then the three years while Coriander was supposed dead. Not a big surprise to find that Maud and Arise were murderers, and Maud had been essentially a whore - as well as a glutton and a slob - we can't forget that! Then Danes comes back, Coriander tells her (alone) the truth about the three years, and learns a little more about her mother and her mysterious shadow, and things are starting to shift back in a Royalist direction. Huge storm, Hester is kidnapped by Maud and Arise, Coriander and Gabriel (tailor's apprentice and Hester's true swain) go to Coriander's house to rescue her, see strange things, nasty Puritan soldiers come to get Gabriel on a quite transparent charge of murder, and he and Hester flee off to the continent. (Almost as many trans-channel crossings as in Dracula!) And Coriander, having succeeded in finding what she needs, has gone back off to Faerie on a rescue mission.

From whence she returns a last time, somewhat heart-broken, to find her father's returned from exile, where he managed to (yay) help Charles by offering his one remaining ship. There's also the re-appearance of a Royalist-loyal suitor, who wants to take his place in Parliament, and needs a nice politically helpful wife, with a proper name, so she'll be changing hers to Ann (yeah - those supportive wife TV appearances can be a bitch if you've got a hippie name!) and of course dad is being wonderfully thoughtful father and favouring this match. Until - well, damned if I know what happens when Charles, now King Charles II, comes riding back into London, and suddenly ... I'll return to that.

To look at the Faerie strand: Coriander's mother turns out to have been the daughter of the king, whose first wife was killed by the evil, usurping Rosmore, who abused Coriander's mother and is now trying to get her (ugly! Oh the surprise) own daughter married off to this hot prince, Tycho. Well, I guess he must be hot, as Coriander sure falls for him with very little reason, and in fact he's one of the most nonentity romantic male characters I've read. Coriander - she's beautiful, as was her mother, 'natch. Trend apparent here? And Rosmore has done all this - everything - killed the king's first wife (this is Faerie, and how's she managed that, seems the obvious question to me, but hey - well, no, what is the 'but' to that question?), ill-treated Coriander's mother, later killed her, tried to get Coriander, used Arise and Maud - in order to get the exceptional shadow Coriander's mother was born with, which will seemingly give her more power. Parallels obvious now?

After Tycho has been saved from marrying Rosmore's ugly daughter, he's turned into a fox and being hunted - and only Coriander plus shadow can save him - which they duly do - but then they must part, because Coriander knows her mother would expect her to go back to the other world. Just to see if everyone's okay, it seems, but hey, no mobile phone to check by text.

So, now - King Charles comes riding into town, all London is celebrating furiously, Coriander looks at him - no, she looks at his horse, and suddenly 'Could it be so? Was such a thing possible?' Um - what? It seems that the two worlds have just sort of united - at the location of her father's house, at least, and she rushes off there and into the waiting Tycho's arms, knowing 'that this world and the world beneath the silvery mirror had become one, all was well and the future was ours for the taking.' Convenient! If unexplained.

I could complain more about quite a few things, but what I find most disturbing is the parallels I mentioned before. Clearly the ones between Maud in this world and Rosmore in the other are drawn plainly and clearly - but what of the third one: both Maud and Rosmore are usurpers, murdering to take what isn't rightfully theirs, and bringing their own 'kingdoms' to grief and almost ruin (Maud's - the family and house being only the smallest - Rosmore has brought time and misery into Faerie by the spells she's cast). And Cromwell - murdered Charles I and took, essentially, the crown, brought war, religious intolerance, misery - he banned Christmas pudding, for God's sake! (That's - seriously - in the Author's Note at the end of the book.) Well, I'm not a big fan of civil war, of course, and no doubt there's a lot to be said against the Commonwealth/Protectorate - but - this world and the Other suddenly miraculously joined just because Charlie comes riding home? And what about the other parallel: that Coriander's father was doing a damn bad job of his responsibilities to his own family and either the king of Faerie was weak, incompetent or just not a match for the Bad Woman? Is the Restoration really the restoration of such a wonderful system altogether?

Two more quick points on this line: it's never actually stated, but there is a strong hint in the plot-line that the persecution of witches was caused by the rise to power of the Puritans (i.e. after the execution of Charles I). I've no idea of the exact numbers, but this is patently untrue - worse by far in Scotland under James (the then VI of Scotland), witch trials began in England in the 1540s. And, another quote from the author's note, 'Some Historical Background', as it's called: 'It is hard for us to understand how shocked people were by the execution of the King. Up to that point it was believed that the monarch was there by divine right, chosen by God to rule over His people and to be Head of the Church of England. Charles I believed completely in the divine right of kings.' Weeeell - lots of people believe lots of things, and it's more than a bit misleading to omit James VI/I's touting of the divine right of kings and how it led him to the belief that Satan was behind the plots against him - using - yup, witches. Who were persecuted in droves in Scotland during his rule.

Towards the end of the book Hester's brother, Ned, who was thought to have been killed after he went off to find their father (fighting for the Roundheads) returns for a joyful reunion with Hester. Nice dinner party at which 'I thought what an odd collection we were, a Roundhead who had fought for Cromwell and Royalists who had supported the King, each one willing to die for his beliefs, and yet here we all were with more to unite us than divide us.' Well again - not really. Ned has fought and been willing to die for his beliefs, his and Hester's father has actually died for them, but the 'Royalists who had supported the King' - let's think about that. Nobody in the company there had fought or risked his (or her) life for the King, and in fact the threat that Coriander's father might lose all his property for his Royalist beliefs is what led him to marry a (supposedly) Puritan woman to make him look all squeaky clean and - er, not Royalist? That's hardly willing to die for your beliefs! But it's as if Gardner is so blinded by her own romantic view of this period of history that she can't even see the characters she's written in an unbiased way. (And it's all okay because even Ned, 'a Puritan to his very toes', is affected by the emotion of the King's ride into London enough to 'look pleased'.)

Finally - back to Amanda Craig's review. What really struck me is this section: 'Gardner’s passionate loathing of the Puritans, backed up by considerable research, is particularly resonant at a time when London is under attack from another brand of fanatics. This is a classic new novel by an author who has written a rich and resonant fairy-tale for our times.' Which fanatics exactly are these? A reference to the London underground bombings of last July? Well, it's the only thing I can figure. I wouldn't have anything to say in support of the actions of those bombers, but were they religious hypocrites? Probably not. And are we to be saved from 'fanatics' by a better, and less democratic system of government? Definitely not. I think what I found most scary about the ideology that can be seen to underpin the book - or possibly that can just be read from it - is the ease with which events of the past can be made/seen to parallel the present, as long as one is willing only to disregard the enormous differences between the situations.