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I read Ellis Peters when I want to be reminded of goodness and kindness, of intelligence and commitment. These are strange things to say about a medieval mystery, but true. This does not mean that all of the characters in Sanctuary Sparrow are kind and gentle, but the center of this story is peopled by those with a moral core (both secular and religious people, powerful and not).
The two of them were unlikely to agree on any subject under the sun, but for all that they respected each other. Even this avaricious, formidable old woman, tyrant of her family and terror of her servants, had certain virtues of courage, spirit and honesty that were not to be despised. (p. 42)
I haven't looked systematically at Peters' themes, but she seems to address many gendered problems. A woman's place in this world can be a powerful one, but it can also be precarious. Ellis views these situations compassionately, but recognizes the irony embedded in them. Who is good and who is evil? Unfortunately, good is too often identified as powerful – unless Brother Cadfael has something to say about this: “Whatever she did of worst,” said Cadfael soberly, “came of that in her that might have been best, if it had not been maimed. She was much wronged” (p. 278).
I also love Peters' language, which stays on my tongue, requiring that I think, consider. Peters is not a writer who I skim looking only for plot. Her metaphors should be savored as much as her recognition of her characters' humanity.
Her long life, longer than any woman should be called upon to sustain, trailed behind her like a heavy bridal train dragging at the shoulders of a child bride, holding her back, weighing her down, making every step a burden. (pp. 176-177)
Peters' mysteries are comfort food, but not like Quaker Quick Oats, but like Bob's Red Mill's Thick Oats: tasty, complex, filling.
(I swear, I'm not hungry, although perhaps because Sanctuary Sparrow still lingers.)
The two of them were unlikely to agree on any subject under the sun, but for all that they respected each other. Even this avaricious, formidable old woman, tyrant of her family and terror of her servants, had certain virtues of courage, spirit and honesty that were not to be despised. (p. 42)
I haven't looked systematically at Peters' themes, but she seems to address many gendered problems. A woman's place in this world can be a powerful one, but it can also be precarious. Ellis views these situations compassionately, but recognizes the irony embedded in them. Who is good and who is evil? Unfortunately, good is too often identified as powerful – unless Brother Cadfael has something to say about this: “Whatever she did of worst,” said Cadfael soberly, “came of that in her that might have been best, if it had not been maimed. She was much wronged” (p. 278).
I also love Peters' language, which stays on my tongue, requiring that I think, consider. Peters is not a writer who I skim looking only for plot. Her metaphors should be savored as much as her recognition of her characters' humanity.
Her long life, longer than any woman should be called upon to sustain, trailed behind her like a heavy bridal train dragging at the shoulders of a child bride, holding her back, weighing her down, making every step a burden. (pp. 176-177)
Peters' mysteries are comfort food, but not like Quaker Quick Oats, but like Bob's Red Mill's Thick Oats: tasty, complex, filling.
(I swear, I'm not hungry, although perhaps because Sanctuary Sparrow still lingers.)