Caleb’s Crossing by Geraldine Brooks

One of my favorite books of the last few years is Geraldine Brooks’ The People of the Book. She also won a Pulitzer Prize for March, as well as critical acclaim for The Year of Wonders. Brooks has set all of these novels in remote time periods, and they all share one important similarity. Each time, Brooks captures the voice of the characters in their time and place. Her latest novel, Caleb’s Crossing follows this pattern with superb results.

Geraldine Brooks loosely based Caleb’s Crossing on the true story of Caleb, a Native American living near some less than strict Puritans, in 1660, on what is now known as Martha’s Vineyard. He befriends the 15-year-old Bethia Mayfield, daughter of a strict Calvinist minister trying to convert Caleb’s tribe. The two form a bond which lasts for many, many years.

Bethia’s father agrees to tutor Caleb, and another young Indian, Joel, in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew in order for them to qualify for a scholarship dedicated to Native Americans to the recently founded Harvard College in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Before the arrival of Caleb, he tutored Makepeace and Bethia, but his son proved a poor student, and he despaired and stopped the lessons for both his children. He tried again with the two Indians in the hopes that Caleb would inspire his son.

He succeeded with Caleb and Joel, both of whom received the scholarships; however, Makepeace faltered. His father could not afford the cost of sending Makepeace to a preparatory school – along with Caleb and Joel – but he solved this difficulty by sending Bethia as an indentured servant to the headmaster of the school. Bethia narrates the story and reveals many of the secret meetings she has with Caleb. Her struggles with religion and her blooming womanhood are the keystones to the story.

As always, Brooks’ plots have a certain something, which creates vivid images in the mind of the reader. Her attention to detail raises the story to a level of realism I find most admirable. The icing on this marvelous dessert, however, consists of the voice of the narrator. I have spent a fair amount of time studying the 17th century, and have read a few books set in that period, not the least of which is Iain Pears’ An Instance of the Fingerpost. Brooks deserves a place of honor right next to that spectacular novel.

Bethia struggles with her religious views after spending some time with Caleb. He explains to her his pantheon of deities after Bethia tells him of the “one, true God of the Christians.” Brooks writes,

“But then, I remembered the singing under the cliffs. An inner voice, barely audible: the merest hiss. Satan’s voice, I am sure of it now, whispering to me that I already knew Keeskand, that I had already worshipped him many times as I bathed in the radiance of a sunrise, or paused to witness the glory of his sunset. And did not Nanpawshat have power over me, governing the swelling, salty tides of my own body, which, no so very long since, had begun to ebb and flow with the moon. It was good, the voice whispered. It was right and well to know these powers, to live in a world aswirl with spirits, everywhere ablaze with divinity” (36).

Numerous words in the Wampanoag tongue add additional spice to the story. Bethia explains some of the words, some are clear from context, while translation of others are easily found with a smart phone.

Bethia seems a bit too mature for a girl of 15, and sometimes I found this a bit annoying. Nevertheless, in Caleb’s Crossing, Geraldine Brooks has another wonderful historical novel to her credit. I can’t wait for the next. 4-1/2 Stars.

--Chiron, 9/1/12

The Year of Wonder by Geraldine Brooks

Year of Wonders: A Novel of the Plague by Geraldine Brooks represents my third encounter with Brooks. March, a novel of the father figure in Alcott’s Little Women was the first, and the magnificent People of the Book both set high standards for historical fiction. Brooks has come up with another detailed and well-researched novel of the 1666 plague outbreak in England. She won Pulitzer Prizes for March and Years.

Based on the true story of Eyam, a small village in Derbyshire, Brooks has managed to convey the terror and frightening consequences of this catastrophic event. Anne Frith is a widow with two young children. Her husband died in a mine collapse. She tends her flock of sheep, raises the children, and works each morning as housekeeper and cook for the village pastor.

This novel not only instructs about events in 17th century England, it also provides some interesting insights on our society today.

One interesting parallel with modern society lies in the succumbing to superstitions. How often do we cross our fingers, knock on wood, or throw salt over our shoulder? These benign examples only begin to scratch the surface of our superstitious society. I am still amazed to enter an elevator and find no 13th floor – even in new buildings!

Two local women provide herbal remedies to the village, and the wife of the pastor, Elizabeth Mompellion uses them and recommends them to Anne. Brooks writes, “But of her herb knowledge I wanted none; it is one thing for a pastor’s wife to have such learning and another thing again for a widow woman of my sort. I knew how easy it is for [a] widow to be turned witch in the common mind, and the first cause generally is that she meddles somehow in medicinals.” (38)

The prose Brooks uses has such a wonderful pastoral tone, I sometimes forgot this was set in the middle of a terrible tragedy. “At last, I called to Jamie and we, too, set our feet on the path for home. All along the way, Jamie kept darting off like a swallow, swooping down to pluck the blowsy, late-blooming dog roses. When we neared the cottage, he bad, he made me wait by the door while he ran inside. ‘Close your eyes, Mummy,’ he cried excitedly. Obediently, I waited, my face buried in my hands, wondering what game he was devising. I heard him thump up the stairs, scrambling, as he did when he was in a hurry, on all fours like a puppy. A few moments passed, and then I heard the upstairs casement creak open. ‘All right Mummy. Now! Look up!’ I tilted my face and opened my eyes to find myself in a velvet rain of rose petals. The soft, sweet shower brushed my cheeks. I pulled off my cap and shook out my long hair and let petals land in its tangles. ‘This,’ I thought, smiling gratefully up at him, ‘this moment is my miracle.’” (71)

Anne Frith is a strong, intelligent, and empathetic woman, who overcomes incredible obstacles and survives. She is the centerpiece of this story, the best, and most likeable character, and I marvel at her reasoning skills. Brooks has wonderfully captured the voice of 1666 England, and easily reminds me of Samuel Pepys. Brooks has another novel, Caleb’s Crossing, which I can’t wait to begin. (5 stars)

--Chiron, 2/19/12

People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks

After a recent read of March by Brooks, which I thoroughly enjoyed, People of the Book seemed like a real treat. After all, it was about books and librarians – two of my favorite topics.

Essentially, the book has two parts. One, the story of Hanna Heath, a rare book conservator who specializes in ancient Semitic manuscripts, and her relationship with her mother woven into a commission to examine and repair a 15th century haggadah known as the Sarejevo Haggadah. The other part of the book tells a fictionalized account of the book’s provenance.

The second part was interesting, but the first part was cheesy and smarmy. Hanna, at times, acted like a bitch, a femme fatale, a big baby, and an egotistical brat. She often made comments like, “Even in crummy establishments in London, you can generally get proper tea, in a pot, unlike the bag on the side of a cup of tepid water that you often get even in high-end American places” (268). Now the comment about “crummy establishments in London” might ring true, but I have eaten in numerous “high-end American” restaurants, and I frequently order hot tea, and it always comes in a pot with water just off the boiling point.

Another instance finds our heroine sobbing on the floor of the Tate Gallery in London when she sees one of her father’s paintings, yet a few pages later, she declares, “I am not a soggy Kleenex kind of person” (271).

The history of the book fascinated me, particularly some harrowing scenes during the Spanish Inquisition involving waterboarding, yes that waterboarding. Only a moron or a liar would not answer a resounding “Yes!” to the question, “Is waterboarding torture?”

When I read it again, and I might do that, I think I will skip the pages of the drama queen, and focus on the book. 4 stars – 1 star penalty to Hanna, you are out of the game!

--Chiron, 3/6/09