Review by Kirkus Book Review
A young midwife is called upon to save a pope--and a city--in this work of historical fiction. At age 17, Eleanore Blanchet is following in her late mother's footsteps, working as a midwife and herbalist. She lives with her twin sister, Margot, who is about to marry a rich man, and their father, who works as a papal notary at Pope Clement VI's extravagant palace in their city of Avignon. The year is 1347, and the city buzzes with rumors about a plague sweeping through Europe, as well as the news that the imperious Queen Joanna of Naples may soon be a resident of the city. Elea, as she's called, is an anomaly for a girl of her time, literate in two languages. She takes her work seriously and has misgivings about her sister's marriage that sound more modern than medieval. In historical novels, characters may have anachronistic attitudes and experiences, and that can work with the right grounding. This novel, though, overdoes it. Early in the story, Elea goes to the woods to gather plants and runs into a well-dressed man who introduces himself as Guigo. He begs her to sell him the hawthorn berries she's just gathered so he can treat an important patient. When she describes the tincture she will make with them for her father, Guigo sweeps her off to his laboratory--and she realizes he is the physician to Clement. He declares her brilliant before he even knows whether the tincture will work and then, in a blink, she's in the pope's inner chamber giving him a hands-on examination. A powerful 14th-century pope dropping trou in front of an unknown teenage girl more than strains credibility, and the plot takes more improbable twists as it progresses. There are some interesting minor characters and somber parallels between the effects of the plague and the violent social fractures it provokes in the 14th century and today, but the unlikely plot weakens the book. An implausible plot and main character keep this historical novel from taking off. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.