Spar

Nicola Griffith has become one of my go-to authors: as soon as I hear of a new book from her, I know I'll pick it up. Not necessarily on Day One, but I immediately look forward to reading it, and avoid any reviews, summaries or other information that may color my initial reading.

 

In a bit of reverse chronology, I finished reading Spear (written in 2022) after Menewood (written in 2023). I think that in my mind I had somewhat conflated the two: they're both set in England near the middle of the first millennium and (as usual for Griffith) feature awesome lady protagonists.

MINI SPOILERS

They are pretty different, though. Menewood, like Hild before it, is a doorstop of a book, while Spear is much briefer at just around 150 pages. Both books feel anchored in their historical moments and geographical places, while also inviting in a sense of mysticism: but in Hild/Menewood that mysticism is itself grounded in history, and we can see both the secular origins of mystery and the effect it has on peoples' minds; in Spear, the magic actually is real, and the novel slowly grows in the direction of myth and legend.

It took quite a while into Spear for me to get a bead on the question of "is magic real or not". The protagonist is initially nameless, just known as "the girl" or "her." Eventually, she wins a name for herself: Peretur, referencing her self-trained skill with a spear. She has special qualities from the start of the novel: able to calm animals, to sense changes in the weather. Later on these become increasingly special and uncanny: during a duel in a stream, she recognizes by a movement in her opponent's eyes that there is a root hidden beneath the water, and she is able to avoid stepping in it. It isn't until nearly halfway through the book that we realize she can have actual visions: seeing things far away, or that nobody else can see: not merely heightened senses and keen perception, but a real sixth sense, combining telepathy and divination. This isn't a magic to hurl fireballs or call down rain or compel men: it's a magic that makes her the best at things other people can do.

Unlike Hild, who had great wisdom and carved out a unique role for herself as a "freemartin", protected by her boldness and strangeness, Peretur cloaks herself (literally and figuratively) in a man's garb. She wants to be a fighting companion of the king, and no woman can do that, so she presents herself as a man. Since this is more of a fantasy, she probably could have succeeded without the ruse, but it adds a really great layer to the story. The narrative always refers to Peretur as "she" while the dialogue usually uses "he". I kept half-expecting her to be found out, but that doesn't really happen: a few others do learn, but only when she chooses to share with them.

MEGA SPOILERS

It's great fun to discover, surprisingly far into the book, that this is a reimagining of one of the Arthurian legends. We start to hear of King Artos, also called Arturus; later on we meet Llanza, Gwenhwyfair, Myrddin and others - all very Welsh, obviously. Peretur herself turns out to be Sir Percival, who discovers the Holy Grail.

One of the things I liked best about this book was how, when you learn new things later in the book, they illuminate things from earlier in the story. One of the biggest examples is the bowl: one of Peretur's earliest memories is the black, decorated bowl that her mother Elen used for water and cooking. Much later, we learn that this bowl is one of the four great treasures of the Tuatha: her mother stole it from Manandan, one of these godlike creatures, as revenge and payment for her captivation. I'm pretty sure that this is the same item as the Cauldron as depicted in Lloyd Alexander's Black Cauldron; in this book, it's one and the same as the Grail as in the Quest for the Holy Grail. And this bowl/cup/grail/cauldron is the source of Peretur's great abilities: the bowl confers immortality, and by casually drinking from it from a young age, Petetur has absorbed god-like abilities.

As with many of Griffith's other novels, this one features an excellent romance. There's a sweet casual-ish connection between the young Peretur and an innkeeper's daughter that in some ways reminded me of Hild's "bed games", simultaneously sweet and no-strings-attached. The main romance is between Peretur and Nimue, Myrddin's apprentice and captor. Once again, there's a unique spin on the classic mythology here: Nimue is once again a young woman who learns sorcery from Merlin and eventually imprisons him: but in Spear, Myrddin is a manipulative jerk, stealing Nimue's power while pretending to grant his to her, and shaping her into an accomplice to help seize the Tuath treasures. Rather than a betrayal, her imprisonment of Myrddin is an act of justice. Anyways, Nimue is understandably wary of Peretur: her magic, her power, and, as we eventually learn, her kinship with Myrddin. But they work through this and secure a really wonderful relationship.

END SPOILERS

The book also includes an afterword that I found really interesting, describing Griffith's long interest since childhood in these kinds of stories, the various historical and literary antecedents of the tales, and how she as a writer found her way into this particular novel. That raised a few connections I had missed while reading the book but that make perfect sense in retrospect.

The timing of this post is somewhat fortuitous, as Nicola just announced today the republication of her Aud Torvingen novels! I don't think I ever blogged about these since I felt like I didn't have anything particularly insightful to say, but I highly enjoyed them: great hard-boiled modern noir mysteries with (as usual) a vivid and compelling protagonist and sharp writing. She has previously blogged about the ordeal in dealing with these books: although it is a linear trilogy, each had a separate publisher, and none of them were ever motivated to publicize the other books or offer a unified visual appearance. After a LONG time she got the rights back, and I'm sure she's thrilled to finally have them presented as she'd like them.

Anyways! I highly enjoyed Spear, and I think just about anyone would like it. It's a much easier commitment than Hild, familiar enough to be accessible, unique enough to be intriguing, with great characters and telling its own flavor of a heroic journey.