Historical romances are an area that tend to be considered under the general rubric of writing for women, not least because of the association with bodice rippers; it’s an association that does the genre no favours, since it becomes synonymous with “crap” (the association with bodice rippers, not women).
It’s a rather unfair reputation on two fronts; any genre will be rich in rivers of crap, and it seems a little unfair for fans of one genre to look down their noses at fans of other genres based on the lower echelons of the works in said genre. Moreover, there are no shortage of men who worked in it, including Arthur Conan Doyle (whose White Company and short stories set in post-Roman Britain dovetail neatly with chunks of Cornwall’s work).
Anyway, I’ve had bits of Cornwall’s Arthur series lying around the house since, well, since I got the second on in the series from a reviewer who was clearing out the newspaper’s unwanted review copies in, oh, 1999. So I guess it was time to get around to reading them.
I was pleasantly surprised; Cornwall’s a good writer, and his vision of Arthur as a Celtic warlord trying to hold together what remnants of Celto-Roman civilisation he can in the face of a Saxon onslaught is a compelling story. Told through the reminiscences of Derfel, a pagan Celt raised from childhood by Merlin, and now leading the last years of his life as a monk.
(Derfel, incidentally, could be considered to be rather loosely based on the saint of the same name, who does in fact make an appearance in the older versions of the Arthur story.)
There are a few key aspects of the trilogy that made it especially enjoyable for me; Derfel is a fully realised character, and we see his friendships and his family on display almost as much as his martial prowess: when one of his daughters is murdered in the second novel the loss stung me as a reader, rather than merely providing a convenient motivational point. The ambiguity of his relationship with Merlin nicely reflects the confusion Cornwall wants to sow for the reader - are the druidic powers magic, or invention? And are they any less real in their effect if the merely the latter?
Another is the image of the Britons trying to maintain the legacy of the Romans; I’ve discussed that before, but it bears repeating; the picture of the decay from a technologically sophisticated, relatively orderly and unified society to a balkanized, squabbling, and considerably less technically sophisticated one is a compelling, albeit depressing, one.
There’s a loving attention to detail and research, but one that manifests itself, for the most part, without undue intrusion in the narrative; his descriptions of the clashes between traditional British and adopted Roman religion with Christianity is entirely consistent with descriptions of the clashes that happened across the Roman Empire with the rise of Christianity; his conjecture on Druidic ritual and practise; his attempts to unpick the centuries of additions to the Arthur stories to get close to the Celtic origins thereof; and finally, his millitary history.
Cornwell’s knack for describing battle is far and away beyond most other writers; he blends a feel for the very real excitement of fighting men that encourages war with the equally real horrors of the battle itself and the aftermath - looting, rape, butchery. His technical detail of how Dark Age cavalry worked, the use of Roman-style shield walls, and the considerations of battle meld agree nicely with the various non-fiction sources I’ve read.b
One problem in starting with the Arthur books is that they are Cornwall’s own favourites, and compared to other works of his I’ve picked up thus far, that valuation is justified; they simply have a better flow than either the Grail Quest or Saxon Stories that I’ve read. I have, in a sense, started with the high point, so I fear I may end up disappointed in the other available series.