Blood Red, Sister Rose - Tapa blanda

Críticas

Through the centuries the story of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, La Pucelle, has fascinated writers, not least Keneally. In Blood Red, Sister Rose, not only does he make the legend his own, with a haunting portrait of the visionary girl, but he also pays homage to his illustrious literary predecessors, casting the story in part as dialogue, as though it were a transcript of her conversations through the years. Keneally gives us a contradictory picture of Joan, or Jehanne as he calls her. Troubled by the fact she has not yet reached womanhood, under pressure from her parents to marry, reluctant to settle to the role ordained for her, living at a time when superstition and magic vie with Christianity, Jehanne finds herself involved in mysterious ceremonies to help the Dauphin, under siege in his own country. As voices begin to assail her, she knows she must aid the Dauphin in his bid to retake Orleans, and begins the long struggle to make her voice heard. Tough and radical in the message she preaches, determined to take nonsense from no-one, Jehanne battles on, undergoing many trials, not least the disinterest of Charles himself. An unwilling weapon of the factions among Charles' followers, appalled to discover herself a natural soldier, obliged to take part in long disputations with scholars , Jehanne never loses sight of her ultimate goal, Orleans, but is frequently plagued with doubts and uncertainties about her mission. Keneally has vividly recreated one of the turbulent periods in French history, and reinterpreted one of the most enduring military legends to give us a convincing Joan of Arc. (Kirkus UK)

This is probably Keneally's magnum opus, but like other culminating masterpieces its fictional components have been foreshadowed in his earlier, more modest novels. Again Keneally examines the predicament of the wise fools of this world, the forthright blunderers who, unlike the Establishment, take account of the realities of human suffering and cosmic bewilderment. Joan of Arc (Jehanne) accepts the reality of her Voices; the weak Dauphin, in a sense a blood brother in dangerous mysteries, knows almost as certainly that a sacrificial "shadow-king" will die to save him. That Jehanne's predispositions ripen at an Oak-King mandrake rite, or that the Dauphin is fed the blood brother tale in an impressionable childhood by a nurse, does not clear the mystery but rather underlines the peculiar logic of what is to follow. Through the imperial anthill battles ali around them - the stench of slaughter, the chaos of accelerating corruption - Jehanne, and up to a point the Dauphin, who strengthens as Jehanne weakens, play out their roles, driven from stage to stage by a drama already known to them both. Keneally, who writes of mandrake roots and the rot of power, mutilated warriors and homely peasant matters, with a precise, and sometimes ironic attention, enters the realm of the possessed with ease and confidence. One accepts Jehanne's ultimate sanity but one doubts the world's. With an imaginative use of dramatic dialogue, and span (the tale ends before Jehanne's final fall), a crisp modern idiom and considerable acrid humor, this is a fine addition to interpretations of the Maid. (Kirkus Reviews)