I am still not sure – as is so often the case with these type of questions, the answer is really all of the above. But this e-book only work by novelist Lars Walker is a captivating read and one that pulls you into its characters and settings – making you feel like you are reading about a real place and real people; that you are reading history in a sense not literature or not just literature.

More thoughts below …

Here is a blurb from the author/publisher:

Chris Anderson has everything. He’s the son of the richest family in town. He lives in a beautiful, loving home. He even has a fairy godmother.

Chris Anderson also has nothing. He was born with a deformed arm, and when he gets angry he sees visions that terrify him.

At the turn of the Twentieth Century, in a nation wrestling with faith and science, tradition and change, Chris will be forced to confront his own nature, and learn the meanings of freedom, love, and the grace of God.

The set up seems to hint at historical fiction: you have the introduction in modern times with flashbacks for the history. The basic plot follows Chris as he grows up; moving from farm to town and dealing with his complex Norwegian family and community.  The drama comes from conflict within the family – his old school grandfather and his progressive teetotaler mother for example – and from his deformed arm which looms large in his own mind and life.

But always on the edge of the story is the “underworld” – the world of fairies and magic.  He has his own real live fairy godmother in fact, who reminds him  that the magic side is often dark and dangerous and who desperately wants to be baptized.  Chris himself has a strong connection to this world.  When he is angry or feels threatened he sees little men with red hats who seem capable of great violence.  He has dreams and visions.

All this complexity leads to dysfunction and struggle – despite the wealth and success of the Andersons.  One by one the men are driven away. His Norwegian immigrant grandfather is driven out by his domineering mother and her progressive causes.  His brother rebels and heads west to escape.  And soon his father joins the path west.

Chris tries to stay rooted.  He takes a position in the family firm and seems committed to what normalcy he can find. But his deformed arm and his love for Sophie – an adopted girl who is in some ways like a sister but who he loves with desperation – prevent him from peace or stability.  He can’t accept himself as he is and thus can’t accept love from Sophie and this brews deep and ugly bitterness inside him.  When this emotion surfaces it drives him out west to find his father and brother.

He connects with them but out of fear of ending up lonely and alone heads back to his hometown to make a life for himself.  His awkward and often ugly attempts to do this make up the rising climax of the book and highlights the truly changing nature of the community he returns to.

What struck me about the style and content of Troll Valley is how, at bottom, what makes it worthwhile is the simple storytelling.  Walker creates such believable and entertaining characters that the reader is sucked in and soon begins to care about these complex characters.  This is what storytelling is all about: the ability to see the world through someone else’s eyes; to experience and explore new things without having to go anywhere. Walker gives us this chance to visit Minnesota around the turn of the century and see what a Norwegian immigrant community might look like and how its inhabitants might live and interact.

But there is also an element that is almost post-modern or a unique mix of pre and post-modern – unmodern if you will.  With a magical realism influenced by classical Christianity and Nordic myth; with genres blended and intertwined and big ideas wrestled with and unpacked.

In some ways this makes it messy. The plot isn’t particularly tight and it isn’t clear what exactly the device of the modern-day relative drug-addict and his Native American helper brings to the story.  But it works because it is full of interesting characters, settings and language – because it touches on powerful emotions that grow out of conflicts we still wrestle with today.  It touches on faith and family – on community and relationships.  It feels like history, literature, theology and psychology all rolled up in a story.

Who knows what you call it.  But it is engaging, entertaining, often thought-provoking and for $3 a real steal.  If you have a Kindle or a Nook I encourage you to download Troll Valley and experience this unique journey.

For most who live,
hell is never knowing
who they are.
The Singer knew and
knowing was his torment.

Recalling the popularity of  The Singer: A Classic Retelling of Cosmic Conflict by Calvin Miller when I was younger, and having a vaguely positive recollection of reading and enjoying it as a teenager, when I saw it for a dollar at a library sale I snatched it up.  Seeing it as a quick and potentially inspirational read, I read it read it that same week

It is a rather unique book (the first of a trilogy), a sort of poetic narrative – some poetry, prose – that re-imagines the Gospel in the form of a classical myth or fairy tale of a troubadour compelled to sing the song that points man back to their creator.  His opponent is the World Hater who seeks to keep mankind enslaved and unaware of the song.

And even after all these years, it stands up very well. A little forced in places and certainly “artsy” in a sense but with beautiful and evocative language that re-imagines this timeless story in a way that knocks the dust off and allows us to see it fresh.

What struck me most was the way the story could help explore both the universal and simple nature of the Gospel in terms of love and redemption but also how the aphorisms at the start of each chapter were thought provoking and somehow fragile – if you thought about them too much or for too long they fell apart, but if you glanced at them they seemed quite profound.

I also really enjoyed the way the relationships played out.  The emotions involved in how the Singer interacted with God, his mother and the people he encountered really seemed to capture the Christ of the Gospels in a fresh and insightful way. This simple prose poem somehow cleared away the clutter and allows you to see the arc of history and Christ’s sacrificial love as the touchstone of that arc.

To give you a taste, here is an aphorism or poem that introduces a chapter:

Oftentimes Love is
so poorly packaged
that when we have
sold everything to
buy it, we cry in
finding all our
substance gone and
nothing in the tin-
sel and the ribbon.

Hate dresses well
to please a buyer

As noted above, I find this introductions very interesting. There is a sense of the profound about many of them and yet they are hard to nail down and unpack. They sort of hit you on an almost subconscious level.  They give the larger story a philosophical and spiritual weight.

I am sure there are many who might find the poetry to heavy handed or the allegory too thin; a work such as this has a lot to do with taste and style.  I am no expert on poetry or poetic narratives but I found it thought provoking and at times powerful.  Something different and daring even if it doesn’t always succeed.

If you enjoy poetic language and storytelling this is a Christian Classic worth revisiting.

Here is the publisher’s blurb:

A man went to knock at the king’s door and said to him, Give me a boat. The king’s house had many other doors, but this was the door for petitions. Since the king spent all his time sitting by the door for favors (favors being done to the king, you understand), whenever he heard someone knocking on the door for petitions, he would pretend not to hear . . .” Why the petitioner required a boat, where he was bound for, and who volunteered to crew for him the reader will discover as this short narrative unfolds. And at the end it will be clear that if we thought we were reading a children’s fable we were wrong-we have been reading a love story and a philosophical tale worthy of Voltaire or Swift.

It was an interesting and rather poignant story.  Not having read any Saramago before, I was not used to the style and structure of the writing: sort of stream of consciousness run on sentences.  It takes a while to get used to this; finding your rhythm and not being distracted by the unique style.

Once you get past that, however, there is an elegance to the simplicity of the story and the determination of the characters to go beyond the small world of their mundane existence; to seek uncharted waters and unknown islands despite everyone’s insistence that they do not exist.

Lacking the sophistication and erudition necessary, it seems I missed the “philosophical tale worthy of Voltaire or Swift.”  Of course, I am not exactly an expert on Voltaire or Swift either. There is clearly a sense in that searching for the unknown island is the search for love and companionship but also the sense that in order to find yourself you must get outside of yourself. There is a sense that the reward is in the journey and that the courage to face the unknown is important. But I didn’t pick up much more than that.

But it is a poignant love story nonetheless. The was Saramago describes the interaction of the maid and the man seeking the island is both romantic and humorous in the way love so often is. The two dreamers end up seeking the same thing – and find it in each other’s arms.

Anyone have a more detailed examination of what Saramago was getting at in this slim story?

Related articles

• Moby-Dick, Cain and Joan of Arc in the New York Times (collectedmiscellany.com)
• Cain – By José Saramago – Translated by Margaret Jull Costa – Book Review (nytimes.com)

Take it away publishers synopsis:

The only one who escaped . . . And the one who could destroy them all.

Incarceron, the living prison, has lost one of its inmates to the outside world: Finn’s escaped, only to find that Outside is not at all what he expected. Used to the technologically advanced, if violently harsh, conditions of the prison, Finn is now forced to obey the rules of Protocol, which require all people to live without technology. To Finn, Outside is just a prison of another kind, especially when Claudia, the daughter of the prison’s warden, declares Finn the lost heir to the throne. When another claimant emerges, both Finn’s and Claudia’s very lives hang on Finn convincing the Court of something that even he doesn’t fully believe.

Meanwhile, Finn’s oathbrother Keiro and his friend Attia are still trapped inside Incarceron. They are searching for a magical glove, which legend says Sapphique used to escape. To find it, they must battle the prison itself, because Incarceron wants the glove too.

Just like in the first book, there are two stories that ultimately connect: Finn and Claudia are trying to prove Finn is the Prince while still trying to find a way to reconnect with the prison to find the Warden and Keiro; Keiro and Attia are trying to survive, escape to reunite with Finn, and keep the prison from escaping itself.

Personally, I found the whole tension with Finn a bit much. But to be fair, the transition from prison to court would be a great shock psychologically and leaving your closest friend behind would make it doubly difficult. The angst and anger, however, just wore thin for me.

I much preferred the action inside the prison. The darker or more ambiguous characters were just better to my mind: the warden, the prison itself, Keiro, and Rix. The prison’s search for escape combined with the plotting or the warden, the naked desire of Keiro and the madness of Rix added up to a nice level of action and suspense.  And the setting of the Incarceron was just unique enough to make it that much better.

The outside action was bumped up a notch as well. The more detailed involvement of Claudia’s sapient tutor Jared was better than just the Finn-Claudia relationship. And the ultimate undoing of the false luxury of the realm was a nice touch.  The conclusion brought all this action and tension together, with a plot twist, in a satisfying and entertaining way.

All in all, I am glad I read this series.  While Steampunk is not really my thing, these two books are worth reading for the creativity and imagination they contain.

Related articles

• Incarceron by Catherine Fisher (collectedmiscellany.com)

I loved that book and have been reading him ever since. I have done interviews  and podcasts with him and try to keep in touch with him via email (he lives on the other side of the world).

I bring all this up to let you know I am not exactly unbiased when it comes to his writing.  But the good news is the risk reward on this particular deal leans heavily toward the reader (or should I say e-reader).

Lewis has a new book available via Amazon Digital Services called The Last Witch of Manhattan. And for a mere $2.99 it is a steal. That’s right, it is self-published. But please don’t let that dissuade you from reading this one.

Here is the blurb from Lewis:

Eldie’s mother, the last of the Balinese witches, has been abducted out of her Manhattan townhouse. Eldie’s explorer father has vanished while searching for his wife. Now somebody wants to kidnap Eldie’s invisible friend, Sam. With Sam’s help, Eldie must develop her powers in order to rescue her parents and prevent a cosmic rift. But as she discovers, her powers are dark and troubled.

Allow me to steal from a review on Amazon to sum it up:

Part supernatural, part sci-fi, part thriller, it is a complex, and might I add fresh, blend of science, Balinese and Judeo-Christian mythology centered around the proverbial clash between good and evil.

More on my take below.As the Amazon review above hints at, it is not easy to categorize this book.  It is a complex mix of fantasy, magic, science, and faith. It has action and suspense but it isn’t really dominated by either. It is young adult fantasy I suppose but really speculative fiction.

As usual Lewis avoids easy answers and refuses to let the reader off easy. And his unique background in Bali ads a great exotic flare.

It was fascinating, entertaining, enthralling and mystifying all at the same time.

If you enjoy YA books not afraid to tackle complex and potentially controversial subjects Lewis is an author to check out.

This is one self-published e-book that I think should have made it into at least trade paperback. But that is your gain – three bucks for a great read.

I had The Necromancer (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel), however, shipped to my Kindle as soon as it was released and read it shortly thereafter. This was exactly the type of reading I could enjoy as a reward for long hours worked.

I enjoyed the previous books in the series – my wife and I raced through them and were anxiously awaiting this latest volume in a planed six book series.  For those of you not in the loop – for shame! – here is the Amzon review:

The Necromancer, book four in Michael Scott’s “Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel” series, brings the immortal Flamel (The Alchemyst) and teenaged twins, Sophie and Josh, back home to San Francisco, where they meet up with the sorceress Perenelle, Flamel’s wife, who spent the last book escaping from Alcatraz. Time is running out for the Flamels; it’s now been six days since their foe Dr. John Dee (another immortal) ran off with the Codex, the book of Abraham the Mage that keeps them young, and they are aging fast. The twins, who have been learning the Elemental Magics over the course of the first three books, are worried about getting into trouble for basically disappearing for days, so they check in with their guardian, Aunt Agnes. But Scott doesn’t let them settle in for long. True to the break-neck pace of this series, they are quickly pulled back into the action when Sophie is kidnapped by a redheaded vampire who bears an eerie resemblance to one of their recent allies, Scathach, who disappeared with Joan of Arc in the last book. The Necromancer introduces readers to even more infamous immortals, while keeping up with favorites from past books–Machiavelli, Shakespeare, Billy the Kid. As the characters accumulate, so do the opportunities for hair-raising conflicts and insane reveals. Scott manages their multiple story lines with a sequence of cliffhangers that keep it a really fun read even as he is piling on the history and mythology, taking readers further into the secrets that will bring the whole story together. As the characters hurtle toward a conflict that could bring about the end of the world, we can’t wait to see where they’ll go, what they’ll learn, and who they’ll meet next.

This, at least to me, is not a stand alone book by any stretch of the imagination.  Instead it is a volume that begins to unwind and explain a complicated plot as the series comes to a close. As time seems to be running short on the Flamels the pace seemed to slow down and the mythological background comes more into focus. There is a major plot twist/revelation that I assume holds a clue to the ultimate resolution. Hard to believe there are two more books before the end.

The tension between Josh and the Flamels – and his sister – is ratcheted up and the good guys and bad guys – if you can figure out which is which – are converging and building to a climax (again, if you call it that with two books left).

This is an enjoyable fantasy thriller series but one of those where you race to read the book only to be forced to wait for the next release to dive back in again. But it is well worth the wait.

Here is the blurb from the publisher:

A.D. 2088.

Missionary daughter Abigail Caldwell emerges from the jungle for the first time in her thirty-four years, the sole survivor of a mysterious disease that killed her village. Abby goes to America, only to discover a nation where Christianity has completely died out. A curious message from her grandfather assigns her a surprising mission: re-introduce the Christian faith in America, no matter how insurmountable the odds.

But a larger threat looms. The world’s leading artificial intelligence industrialist has perfected a technique for downloading the human brain into a silicon form. Brain transplants have begun, and with them comes the potential of eliminating physical death altogether—but at what expense?

As Abby navigates a society grown more addicted to stimulating the body than nurturing the soul, she and Creighton Daniels, a historian troubled by his father’s unexpected death, become unwitting targets of powerful men who will stop at nothing to further their nefarious goals. Hanging in the balance—the spiritual future of all humanity.

For my take read below.

I found The Last Christian to be an entertaining and interesting read. Add in the fact that it is an explicitly Christian novel and involves theological and spiritual discussion and it is a rare feat.

As noted, I was not a big fan of Gregory’s previous books so was impressed with the improvement in both ideas and execution on this one. An intriguing plot hook and some nice suspense built around the Christian message – and the message is not so heavy as to undermine the novel.

It was a pleasure to read and I found myself wanting to keep reading to found out both how the plot unfolded and how Gregory tied the various threads together.  At its most basic level, any book that makes you want to keep reading and allows you to “get lost” in the story is a good one. I would imagine that your interest in Christianity and theology would have a large influence on your interest level but I don’t think non-Christians will be totally put off by the spiritual aspects of the story.

This is not serious literature by any means but it is a great beach read with not only a futuristic adventure but a combination philosophical quandry (mind body dualism) and a spiritual challenge (what is the fundamental concept of the gospel?).

So if you are looking for something different this summer check out The Last Christian.

This book was provided for review by the WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group.

Here is the synopsis from the publisher:

There is a land of two kingdoms, but only one true King. A living land, where foundations grow in trees and rivers sing and breathe. A dying land, where the darkness of a false prince threatens to swallow everything in its shadow.

Enter Between Two Kingdoms with Tommy, an eternally seven-year-old child of the Great King, as he and his friends accept the challenge of the Good Prince to live as grown men and women in the Lower Kingdom—where hope is hidden, vision is clouded, and pride twists truth into a beautiful yet deadly deception.

As the synopsis eludes to above, the basic story line follows Tommy as he accepts a mission into the lower kingdom. Setting out he knows very little about what lies ahead. Once there, however, it is revealed that the assignment involves stopping a plot to cover the entire lower kingdom in darkness and smoke in order to control and enslave the frightened  population. Tommy and his friends must protect as many people as they can and then find a way to destroy the machine that is creating the smog like smoke that begins to cover the kingdom.

You can get an idea of what the author was trying to portray and flush out in this short video.

To me the book felt either too simple or incomplete. It had the feel of a story you might write to experiment with ideas and symbols (and characters) – a sort of thought experiment in the form of a novella. And in this way it had some interesting aspects.

But as a work of literature taken as a whole it fell flat for me.

The story has some elements that are interesting: the basic concept of the two kingdoms; the river as a living interactive force; the phantom messengers who can’t bear to see themselves in a mirror.  These elements are interesting ways to express ideas about our spiritual lives and interactions. (The Kingdom of Heaven and the kingdoms of earth; the role of the Holy Spirit; and the way our souls can be corrupted by evil or neglect.)

But other elements made little sense to me either as part of the story or as elements in the allegory. Why would everybody be seven years old? Why did they seemingly eat only cookies and ice cream in the upper kingdom? Why tree houses? You could attempt to come up with spiritual ideas behind these concepts (the faith of children, etc.) but the story didn’t really present them in such a way as to propmt that sort of thinking. Rather it was difficult to understand what was fantastical background and what was meant as something deeper – at least outside of the obvious elements.

The characters of the King and Good Prince were clearly God and Christ (with the River as the Holy Spirit) but they too seemed rather one dimensional. All powerful, wise, loving, etc. This made them appear a little too sentimental – at least to my taste.

Allegories can sacrifice three dimensional characters in order to delve more into the philosophical questions they address – using characters and events as symbols to tell a story but to make an argument or illustrate ideas in more lively and persuasive way because of the artfulness involved.

If the insights offered or the emotional depth involved are not there, however, attempts at allegory can fall flat. I think this is what happened here. The ideas were not enough to fully bring the story alive and the story was too simple to stand on its own.

Between Two Kingdoms is a quick and easy read. And as I noted above, it has some interesting – creative and thought-provoking – visual and literary elements. But as a whole it just seems unfinished. Not quite polished enough nor deep enough to do more than just suggest symbols and concepts.

It struck me as an interesting experiment but, in the end, not a successful one.

But first, let’s allow the publisher to introduce the book:

Sister Evangeline was just a girl when her father entrusted her to the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration in upstate New York. Now, at twenty-three, her discovery of a 1943 letter from the famous philanthropist Abigail Rockefeller to the late mother superior of Saint Rose Convent plunges Evangeline into a secret history that stretches back a thousand years: an ancient conflict between the Society of Angelologists and the monstrously beautiful descendants of angels and humans, the Nephilim.

For the secrets these letters guard are desperately coveted by the once-powerful Nephilim, who aim to perpetuate war, subvert the good in humanity, and dominate mankind. Generations of angelologists have devoted their lives to stopping them, and their shared mission, which Evangeline has long been destined to join, reaches from her bucolic abbey on the Hudson to the apex of insular wealth in New York, to the Montparnasse cemetery in Paris and the mountains of Bulgaria.

This was in fact the blurb that intrigued me enough to read the book (generously provided by the publisher in this case). But the same book produced two very different reactions.

Janet Maslin calls it “a class-obsessed, scholarship-spouting, minutiae-strewn thrill ride that follows the ‘Da Vinci Code’ model as loftily as it can.”

In contrast, Susan Cokal: “Sensual and intellectual, “Angelology” is a terrifically clever thriller — more Eco than Brown, without the cloudy sentimentalism of New Age encomiums or Catholic treatises.”

So if I had to choose side in this debate who would I declare the winner? I would have to side with Cokal but I can understand where Maslin is coming from to a degree.

More below.

I think it is fair to say that thrillers of every sort expect a certain suspension of judgment. You have to sit back and relax and enjoy the ride. Some authors strive for plausibility more than others but I have rarely come across thrillers where you say: yeah, I could see that happening. Let’s face it daily life ain’t all that thrilling for most of us.

I also think it is fair to say that Janet Maslin either skipped this step or has rather exacting standards. It is a book about angels, Janet. Were you expecting ripped from the headlines type plausibility here?

Secondly, Maslin seems to have not enjoyed the admittedly thick detail that the author uses to situate the story -  in order to have some plausibility or at least a connection to history and legend. And this thick description, if you will, carries over into the book’s style overall.

For these reasons, it strikes me as the kind of book you simply have to jump into wholeheartedly for it to work; you have to pick up some momentum and rhythm to enjoy it. If you are constantly nit-picking and focused on the details as they pile up you will likely be turned off.

There is a somewhat difficult transition when the book flashes back to WWII Paris and I felt like the author focused too much on the emotional rivalry between Celestine and Gabriella in this section. It dragged whenever the focus was on the girl’s relationship instead of the larger mystery and Second Angelogical Expedition.

I myself tend to prefer tighter writing and less layered descriptions while  Trussoni describes everything in great detail. But it gives the novel a sensual and Gothic feel – which I believe was intentional. If anything I think the love interest between Evangeline and Verlain was laid on a little too thick whereas the description involved in Angelology, as I noted, provide the historical and theological backstory.

Was the chase for the missing Lyre pieces at the end a little to convenient at times? Sure. Can the meticulous descriptions drag the story on occasion? Yes. Are the characters actions always plausible? Of course not. But just because a book has flaws doesn’t mean you should ignore the things it does well.

Lev Grossman, reviewing the book for Time, captures the mix well I think:

At times Angelology is little more than a light scaffolding built around the glittering edifice of its genuinely compelling premise. Trussoni’s handling of action is not deft, and the romance between Verlaine and Evangeline makes you long for the raw erotic chemistry between Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu.

But at other times, Angelology finds an almost hallucinatory power

I found Angelology to be a creative and imaginative thriller. As Cokal noted you have to enjoy a book that can weave together “angels of the Bible and Apocrypha, the myth of Orpheus, Bulgarian geography, medieval monastics, the Rockefellers, ­Nazis, nuns and musicology” into an evocative and entertaining story.

It isn’t perfect but if you dive in and just enjoy the ride while it lasts I think you will appreciate it more than if you try to analyze it as you read.

But despite the countervailing habits when I heard about John The Baptizer by Brooks Hansen I was immediately intrigued. Here is the publishers description:

Traditionally, John the Baptist is seen as little more than an opening act—”the voice crying in the wilderness”—in the great Christian drama. In presenting the epic of John’s life, novelist Brooks Hansen draws on an extraordinary array of inspirations, from the works of Caravaggio, Bach, and Oscar Wilde to the histories of Josephus, the canonical gospels, the Gnostic gospels, and the sacred texts of those followers of John who never accepted Jesus as Messiah: the Mandeans.

Gripping as literary historical fiction, and fascinating as a diligent exploration of ancient and modern sources, this book brings to eye-opening life the richly textured world—populated by the magnificently sordid, calculating, and reckless Herods, their families, and their courts—into which both John and Jesus were born. John the Baptizer is a captivating tapestry of power and dissent, ambition and self-sacrifice, worldly and otherworldly desire, faith, and doubt.

A straightforward historical portrayal of John might be interesting in and of itself, but the unique and creative mix Hansen offered put this one on the top of my reading list.

Most of the time the publishers blurb has an element of hyperbole to it – depending on the quality of the book in question this can be annoying or flat out deceptive – but in my opinion this one really does capture the book.

More on why below.The first paragraph relates to the second.  Hansen’s use of a wide variety of sources – and the gnostic Mandeans in particular – are what give the work its unique flavor or perspective.  Hansen doesn’t simply bring a historical view to the story.  Yes, his skillful writing brings the ancient world to life; to the point you almost feel like you are reading a primary source not a novel. But he weaves into this historical story a mystic, spiritual, almost dream like element.

And on a number of levels it is in contrast that the novel builds its power.  There is the dual elements noted above that surround John’s story: the historical and political context of his time and region, and the simple ascetic nature of his life and mission, are contrasted with the mystical and supernatural nature of his life from a birth under a star to his time spent with Nasurai.

In the same way, John’s story and mission is stands in stark contrast with the history of what Kirkus so aptly describes as “the semi-pagan Herod clan.  A tempestuous, incestuous convergence of two royal Israelite dynasties produces Herod the Great.”

This altering between a history pregnant with spirituality and a history full of debauchery, between the simple asceticism that emphasizes self-sacrifice and the gaudy, greedy and power hungry trappings of royalty, pushes the novel forward as everyone familiar with story knows that the two will meet in a violent climax.

This mix might not be attractive to everyone, the Kirkus review concludes:

A curious melange of the sacred and profane, but always captivating when the sinners are onstage.

But I think Publishers Weekly has it right:

The juxtaposition of stark realism and religious loftiness has its perplexing moments, but it’s precisely what will keep the pages turning.

To me Hansen balanced these two aspects to incredible effect.  The contrast of the sacred and the profane – and how often they mixed in provocative ways in the ancient world – are what drove the story.  And it is only by presenting this wider lens on the connection between John and gnosticism, and other by now largely forgotten sects, that Hansen offers more than just a fictionalized history of John; takes it from history to art/literature.

Which is why I found the novel as advertised:

Gripping as literary historical fiction, and fascinating as a diligent exploration of ancient and modern sources … a captivating tapestry of power and dissent, ambition and self-sacrifice, worldly and otherworldly desire, faith, and doubt.

It might seem to odd to describe a literary exploration such as this as gripping but I was pulled into it and wanted to spend all my time reading it; “a captivating tapestry” is a perfect description.

I should note that obviously orthodox Christians will not agree with many of the theological elements found in the story.  Classical Christianity did eventually declare gnosticism heresy after all.  And some might find the interaction of John and Jesus – or more specifically the disciples of John and Jesus – provocative.

And the supernatural element is clearly not historical in the academic sense.

But to get hung up on these issue is to miss the nature of the work.  This is not a thinly disguised catechism, or a loosely fictionalized history, but a work of literature with all the complexity and provocation that can involve.

No matter your faith background, or lack of it, or your knowledge of the Bible, or lack of it, I highly recommend John The Baptizer.  Its blends the historical and the literary in ways that defy genre and subject matter to create a powerful story.