I randomly picked up this book at Powell's Books in the fall. (The cover is beautiful.) I didn't get around to starting it until late February or early March, because my to-read stack is always so massive... I noticed the profusion of praise on the covers, of course, but I had no idea that Hild would be so amazing. This book isn't thick, but it's heavy--heavy not with ink and paper, I'm sure, but with the story.
It's the seventh century in Britain, and a three-year old girl's childhood ends when her mother's companion, Onnen, comes into the woods where young Hild and Onnen's son Cian are playing. Onnen announces that Hild's father--Hereric, the aetheling (potential heir)--is dead. And then Hild is being groomed to be the seer of the king, Edwin, her great-uncle. For a child, she is brilliant. For a child, she has a huge amount of responsibility. One misstep, one "vision" that doesn't come true, one wrong friend, could lead to the loss of everything and everyone she loves, including her own life. Matters grow more complicated when the bishops and priests of the new Christian religion start arriving at Edwin's halls and weaving themselves in the political and religion fabric of the island. Hild is the story of the early life of Saint Hilda of Whitby, drawn from the very slim records of history and Nicola Griffith's brilliant imagination.
The picture of the culture is really wonderful, too. The island has several different ethnic groups, the two main ones who Hild is around being Anglisc and wealh (I still have no idea how to say that). The Anglisc are the Germanic people who are generally more well-off. The wealh are the British, sort of a branch of Welsh, I suppose, and they're generally servants and slaves and sometimes seriously looked down upon by Anglisc people. And then there's the Picts and Scots to the north, and the Irish in Ireland. The Welsh and people of Dyfneint hang out in the west. The Anglisc also further split up into Northumbrians, Saxons, Mercians, and Jutes. It's dizzying at first.
The characters are also amazing. They are so real--very, very flawed and very, very changeable. Griffith does a perfect job of depicting a high-stakes political arrangement, and what it does to Hild is horrifying but realistic. Growing up as an important political figure gives you a mind that is far from normal. She's already extremely smart, but the constant need to be careful and to consider the possibility of being poisoned like your father was inevitably twists a child's mind. And with the kind of mother she's got, it's no surprise that she's not like other children... Hild's position is "the king's seer," but most people have at least a vague idea that she's more an intelligent, insightful, politically-minded girl than a magical maid. But Edwin doesn't particularly care where Hild gets her information, as long as it gets to him fast enough for him to use it to his advantage. These characters do not behave as is convenient for a good story. Hild is not a book where the bad guys die and the good guys live. Life and death depends on probability and people's very realistic choices. And the choices are not made to suit the story. No, the characters react like real people. Many of them--since most of the characters are nobility--have really messed-up minds. That makes it even more interesting, though. But even in dark people, Hild finds something to love. After all, she has many loved ones to constantly worry about. And all those people are just as interesting. Edwin king, of course, is terrifying and powerful; Breguswith is scheming and looming; Cian is that dreamy but infuriating young man; Begu is the loveable, distracting BFF; Gwladus is the salty, sexual servant; Fursey is the wise, sharp-tongued, beer-loving priest-teacher; Paulinus is appallingly self-serving for a bishop; Aethelburh fills the role of the careful queen from slightly far away. Everyone is fascinating.
I mentioned that the characters are not just there for the story. But nor is the story just there for the characters. The two interact beautifully, supporting each other to form a masterpiece of literature. But the story, oh my God, the story. I'm not sure if I have the ability to describe the way it goes, but... It has a flow. Griffith turns the seasons, ages Hild, alters the landscape of the earth and of people, with perfect command of this world she has created. It's nothing short of masterful. And currents--subplots--they flow through the story, sometimes going under to allow others to surface, and then returning to beat down the others when the time has come. Griffith brings back things to create threads of the story: "Fate goes ever as it must," "Who's to stop me? Who in all the world?", and the idea of the world as a piece of weaving--great political shifts alter the weft threads of the island and surrounding lands. The beauty of nature also surges along through the story, both ornament and necessity. This kind of mind-blowing writing is like the most perfect song.
There's a quote that I'd love to put in here; it's from the beginning of the book and it astounded me when I read it, but it's getting quite late and the quote is rather long. I might stick it in here if I get around to editing this review at all this week. If I don't, it's on page 12 in my paperback copy, and it's just a really nice bit where small-child Hild sings a song in British, and then the lyrics are referenced as she and her family covertly hustles along the river to Edwin's hall. It's neat.
I've talked about the characters, but I'd like to focus more on Hild specifically. Griffith portrays her growing-up wonderfully. The story begins when Hild is three years old and ends when Hild is probably about seventeen (I sort of lost track of her age, and she probably did too--you don't feel the need to think very much about your last birthday once you're in your teens, and she certainly has more important things to consider). It's fascinating, the way her relationships with people change as she gets older and more mature--family, friends, partners, superiors, and servants. In particular, the idea of noble people having relationships with the lower classes struck me. Breguswith brings it up at one point, telling Hild to find "a person," someone who "doesn't matter," a lover no one will notice. Hild does this with a couple of people, but I never really connected the significance until Hild herself hit me over the head with it when talking about it with Begu, her gemaecce (basically her official BFF). "'Pick people who don't matter, my mother said. But people who don't matter aren't equals. We pick them up, play with them, then put them down'" (497). And then I freaked out slightly because the way that Griffith wrote Hild's relationships with servant/lower-class women suddenly made sense as a piece of this whole message. Wow. WOWWWW. Hild is a fascinating human being. The real person could not have been any more interesting than how Griffith has written her.
The only thing that was problematic with this book was that it took me a long time to really get going on it because of all the ancient languages, ancient English geography, and family trees. There's a map and a family tree at the beginning of the book and a glossary/pronunciation guide at the back, but the tree and pronunciation guide are not terribly complete. Not everyone is related in the book, and so people outside of Hild's family are left off. And I would've very much liked a pronunciation for the word "wealh." It's actually everywhere. We can pronounce "gesith" and "scop" and "seax," but not "wealh," though it's probably the most common non-English word in the book. What even is that H at the end? Knowing how to pronounce that would also aid in names like Cwenburh and Aethelburh, which also have those interesting H's. Well, weel, wall, well-huh... I don't know... I could probably look it up.
So anyway, it took me forever to figure out what was going on, who was dead, who had power over whom, who hated whom, who was whose cousin, and so on, and the unfamiliar names didn't help. I'd like to read Hild again in a year or two, when I've forgotten enough of it to enjoy it again, but not enough of it to have to start over with the whole relations thing. I suppose Griffith didn't have much choice, though--not if she wanted it to stay realistic.
In short, I would recommend Hild to the entire actual world. It's just an amazing, beautiful story, and none of the review excerpts on the covers or in the front pages are exaggerating. In the appendix, Griffith mutters something about writing more of Hild's story. I'M SO EXCITED. WHEN WILL IT COME OUT? WHEN CAN I READ IT? I hope Fursey sticks in his tonsured head, and it'd be nice to see Hereswith and Onnen again, too. I am sure that Cian, Breguswith, Edwin, Paulinus, and Hild's household will make appearances as well. I look forward to it very much. In the meantime, you all should read this mind-blowing book. It's seriously the best historical fiction you will ever read. It often seems like nothing less than life itself.