Progress on The Pillars of the Earth, Part 1

[bunnyboo]

I’ve gotten through chapters one, two, and the prologue… which is a lot more impressive when you take into account that together they’re about 150 pages.

 

I was surprised at how easily I was able to pick this up, but it was honestly engaging from the start. I like how simple the language is. It gets across the basic information and parcels out more descriptive scenes very sparingly for greater effects—Ellen’s eyes, Philp’s parents’ murder, and Tom’s musing on cathedrals come to mind immediately. I greatly admire clear and concise writing. To me, it’s what every author should strive for. (I’ve never achieved it myself, which should be obvious by the length of this post.) I’m in the same camp as Mark Twain, Shakespeare, and Mr. Plinkett on this—brevity is the soul of wit or, to put it another (and snarkier) way, don’t waste my time. Well, I’m not saying that more elaborate prose is necessarily a waste of time, but I think that there’s beauty in simplicity. It’s very different than reading Tolkien—not to either put The Lord of the Rings or The Pillars of the Earth down in any way. That makes sense, seeing as how they’re two very different genres and stories. It’s just a nice change, I suppose. Refreshing is the word I would use.

The opening scene does a great job of establishing how brutal yet eerily familiar the medieval world was. It’s hard to imagine a time where public executions were a spectacle and cause for social gathering, but it honestly wasn’t that far back in our history—at least here in the United States. If I had ever read The Scarlet Letter, I think this is what would come to mind. The scene of a public hanging or, more commonly, a witch burning is kind of ingrained in American pop-culture at this point, so I might be just attributing something to The Scarlet Letter that’s not actually in it. Oops. In any case, Follett characterizes a lot of these villagers as kind of nasty people, doesn’t he? Well, specifically, he tells us about how the male villagers are awful people (by today’s standards). The little boys are cruel to animals and each other; the young men are much in the same vein, only bigger. I think this comes into play later—men in this story are aggressive, but women are compassionate and caring. I’ll get back to that in a bit. Right now, I want to talk about Tom.

Tom is a pretty typical protagonist of this kind of story—the man of little means, but big aspirations that will rise to the top with his progressive ideas and intellect. At least, that’s what I assume. I think it’s easier for us to sympathize with a character in historical fiction if they think at least a little like we do. Follett makes a point that Tom is unlike other men in the way he thinks and interacts with the world. He’s not cruel, for one, and is capable of reading and writing a little—a huge accomplishment for even freemen of this time period. His dream of building a cathedral is interesting too, and I love the passion he shows for architectural design. It’s fascinating to read about how these massive structures were built with medieval technology and the amount of work that went into them. I can see why Tom is so obsessed with the arts of building, crafting, and constructing. But let’s step back for a bit and talk about gender roles, which I think are central to not only Tom’s character but Philip’s as well. He rejects some of the masculine stereotypes I think about when I think of medieval Europe—Tom has never forced himself on anyone, as he’s quick talk about when he’s attracted to Ellen, and he’s noticeably nurturing towards his children and especially towards his daughter Martha. He treats the women in his life with respect, and I think that’s interesting in a world where women had a very different role in society than today. I’m not particularly well-versed in this period, so I’m going mostly off assumptions here. I’d love to be more educated on this subject! Getting back to Tom and on a personal note, he reminds me a lot of my dad. My dad raised my brother and I on his own while being an active duty military member, and he has a kind and nurturing soul that I think a lot of men might be ashamed of. He had a trade that he was good at, but his real passion is us—his children. Tom is obviously a little different, but I like him as a representative of this softer side of masculinity, and I’ve noticed that Philip—the other protagonist I’ve been introduced to so far—is very similar in this respect.

Moving on to Philip, I see similar themes presented in his character and backstory as Tom’s. He was traumatized by a violent, male-perpetrated event—the killing of his (Welsh) parents by the invading English forces of Henry I—and was saved from death by a man of the cloth who shepherded him and his brother away to a cloistered life of study and solitude. Philip was separated from everyday life at an early age and brought into a culture that has a very different view on masculinity—one focused more on spiritual purity and living by the teachings of Jesus Christ as opposed to being concerned with warfare or survival. Of course, the monks still work their land and participate in secular society to a degree, but they shun much of the masculine expectations of the time—they uphold a vow of chastity for one, refuse drinking wine, and abstain from violence of any kind. They are, however, expected to be obedient and subservient to their betters, which is a pretty big deal for this time period. There’s a natural order to things, you see. Everyone below is expected—by man’s law and by God’s—to be servile to those above. In return, those above are expected to care for those below in a paternal sense, much like God watches over everyone. Feudalism is based on this system of servitude. Obligations were a huge part of society at this time and enforced by both secular and religious organizations. People are beholden to one another and held accountable for their actions by their communities and—inevitably—God himself. From my brief dive into the medieval world, oaths were a cornerstone of this. You swore an oath to your liege; you swore an oath to God; you swore an oath that you were an honest person. That’s why it was such a big deal if you took the Lord’s name in vain—you were literally swearing on God himself. There’s even some conversation at this time that if you swore on, let’s say, Jesus’s bones and the oath was false, you would literally hurt Jesus. It’s very interesting, and Melissa Mohr’s Holy Sh*t: A Brief History of Swearing is a fascinating look at the origins and evolution of cursing. I’d highly recommend it!

I go on a lot of tangents, don’t I? Philip embodies some of the same feminine qualities that Tom does. He’s nurturing of his brothers and his priory, he’s very composed and quiet most of the time, and he shows some paternal instincts when Tom’s abandoned baby Johnathan is brought to him. Then again, he’s also very commanding and shrewd, but he doesn’t do it out of a sense of pride (though this does become an issue later on) or because he’s arrogant. He does it out of genuine love for God and his fellow man. Tom is concerned with the secular and the practical most of all, and Philip prefers this too but does it in service of a higher power. They both have ideals that they want to live up to but are bogged down by society and politics. I know from the inside cover that these two characters intersect, and I can see them butting heads on a few issues but they’re really very similar. I’m excited to see them come together and work on this cathedral. (They aren’t spoilers if they’re on the inside cover. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!)

Overall, I’m really enjoying The Pillars of the Earth much more than I thought I would. I doubt I would’ve picked it up based on the summary alone, but I heard that it was good and that was enough for me. I’m glad that I gave it a chance. The only problem is that it’s about 900 pages long! Time to settle in for the long haul…