Gatty's Tale

[lady_schrapnell]

Blowing a virtual kiss to Kevin Crossley-Holland, which is about the sum-total of my commenting ability just now.

Finished Gatty's Tale ... yesterday, I think it was. Yesterday's close enough. I went straight through the Arthur trilogy (The Seeing Stone, At the Crossing-Places and King of the Middle March) and into Gatty, and have many Thoughts about all the books in relation to their historical 'accuracy', how history is written and read, and the Arthur trilogy's fantasy element, which I found rather variable in effectiveness, but now just a brief rave about Gatty. Or Gatty's Tale, as Gatty herself is very much alive in the Arthur trilogy.

Gatty is a 'field-girl', who was born on and lived all her life on the Caldicott manor, but is sent to the manor of her lady's sister [EDAmend to cousin, not sister], some several days journey away, to be a chamber-maid. This unexpected change is nothing to what follows, however, as Gatty is taught to read and write and taken on pilgrimage to Jerusalem - which she hadn't even known to be in another country, when Arthur tells her he's going off on crusade. Originally, Gatty's value to the pilgrim group is her amazing singing voice, which is as much charm as entertainment. But readers will know before Gatty herself does how very much else she has to offer - courage, loyalty, common-sense, and an ability to laugh at herself, all qualities which make her easy to love. And perhaps most useful to the author's intent (crossing fingers to avoid being struck down for daring to use the word) is her eagerness to learn, her observant nature and her openness to different people and ways of viewing the world. This makes for a completely gripping read, without a dull page, to my mind.

The pilgrimage starts in the year 1203, and when I put my analytical shutter back, I may have to focus rather hard on the almost across-the-board questioning of the beliefs which sent so many off on the various crusades - even those who firmly believe all Saracens (heathens) are going to hell are fairly open: Oliver, the priest at Caldicot, for example is quite sympathetic and prepared to let people of differing opinions have their say in a way that would be a huge improvement for many today. And I might have a hard look at the Christian knight married to the (gorgeous, graceful, etc, etc,) Muslim woman, and at the other rather impressivly fluid-with-respect-to-class couples. But I'm a romantic sap, and if some hard-headedness is satisfied, my heart can be melted completely, and hence the kiss blown to Kevin Crossley-Holland. (Like throwing flowers, for the last scene of the book - and a purely chivalric kiss!) (And you didn't fool me one bit, Kevin, by the misdirection!) (But no hard feelings for the effort.)

As if a genuinely nice spirit didn't shine through this book brightly enough, I found him saying this about one of my favourite books (and one which I regularly use as a comparison point of how historical fiction for children can be done brilliantly): 'But I also read historical fiction for children by living writers, and if there is one book that set me on fire and emboldened me to write in the first person, it is Karen Cushman’s wonderful Catherine, Called Birdy.' (From the Kevin Crossley-Holland website.)

Comments

[lady-schrapnell.livejournal.com]

Well, there's nothing particularly 'natural' about her being taught to read, for that matter! Lady Gwyneth is in a somewhat precarious position holding the manor anyway (as a widow) and is seen as unusual in wanting her two chamber-maids taught to read. I don't think Gatty does (or learns) as much in the way of writing, but the priest teaching her to read does teach her her letters. Arthur is supposed to be able to write as his father's squire, and does much more writing than Gatty.

[fjm.livejournal.com]

Quite honestly, I doubt even Arthur would be able to write.

The point of becoming a Lord of the Manor was that you paid clerics to do that. It's about as likely as teaching your heir to put up shelves when the manor is full of carpenters.

Think of the cost of learning to write, even with slates and slate pencils it wasn't cheap. As late as 1950 pencils were so expensive that a box of new pencils was a highly prized gift to a child,. My grandmother never got out of the habit of conserving pencil stubs.

Reading was taught precisely so people could read aloud (it wasn't quite the private thing we think of today), and writing was seen as an entirely separate task,

We take for granted that "learning our letters" involves holding something in our hands and copying them,, but that was a radical invention at the end of the eighteenth century and didn't really spread until the nineteenth. Until then, learning your letters involved look-say.

My vague memory tells me that Margaret Spufford was the expert on this, but I've been following information on this for some time--once historians realised that writing and reading were seen as very distinct tasks, it completely rewrote the history and understanding of illiteracy, Reading turned out to be much more widespread than they thought, but writing actually less widespread, because it was associated with certain jobs. I've just been reading a book called A Calculating People by Patrica Cline Cohen and was surprised to find that many middle class women learned to read but not write as late as the mid-eighteenth century, and that even basic ciphering (numbers) wasn't taught to women until the 1820s. Again, the issue was that numbers was a professional skill and seen as very difficult, so even boys weren't taught arabic numerals until their early/mid teens (in 1820 arithmatic was a college level subject). People used "ready reckoners", printed tables that contained conversions and lists of multiplications--mind you, with the mess that is imperial weights and measures, I can seee why.

Sorry, drifting here, but what people were and are taught is part of the current project.

[lady-schrapnell.livejournal.com]

Well, this is part of the bigger question we've been tossing around, concerning the 'accuracy' of historical fiction for children. If something was relatively uncommon for the time, but evidence shows it wasn't unheard of - and the author gives at least a nod to indicate that it was uncommon - does it work or not?

Lady Gwyneth does state that she wants her two chamber-maids to learn how to read so they can read aloud to her, and teaching G. to read is all that involves a scrap of parchment - she's given a bit of slate and a lump of chalk to do the letters. So I don't know that it's impossible, despite the atypicality of it... (Nobody's taught numbers, at least.)