The City and the Pillar by Gore Vidal


A classic novel of the gay experience during the post-Depression era, The City and the Pillar deserves praise for its candid portrayal of homosexuality during a time when being gay was considered shameful and immoral. The book originally appeared in 1948, making it contemporary fiction rather than a historical novel.

I read a version printed in 1961, which is significant only in that the copyright page states that the author made minor edits to two pages. There is no explanation. While it doesn’t seem likely that a slight altering of two pages would change the story, I thought I’d highlight the fact that my review is based on a more current edition.

While the novel broke ground concerning a subject that was taboo and paved the way for future authors of gay fiction, the story is not well-developed. It doesn’t flow. It starts, stops and stutters like a scratched CD (or record, if you are of the generations that remember record players).

I had trouble sympathizing with the main character, Jim Willard. His personality seemed flat, which may have been a statement in and of itself, except that all the characters lacked dimension.

It may have been the case that Vidal was taking care not to pass judgment. But the ending required the kind of anger that borders on madness. While Willard may well have been mad, his reticent personality showed no evidence of it. Rather, he exhibited a sudden eruption of anger that left me unconvinced.

But I’m judging the novel from a distance of 60 years. Attitudes have changed, although room for improvement certainly exists. As time marches on, it becomes increasingly difficult to appreciate the remarkable courage it took to write and publish such a book. Thus, I recommend it to all as a reminder of what was at a time that really isn’t all that far into the past. Rating: Good.

An Instance of the Fingerpost by Iain Pears


While I used to devour mysteries as if they were a source of life’s sustenance, I have not read more than a few over the past couple of years. They became too formulaic, if not entirely predictable. Many of the historical mysteries just didn’t offer enough history to hold my attention. Thus, when I read that An Instance of the Fingerpost was hailed as a literary mystery set against the background of the English Restoration, I was intrigued.

It did not disappoint. Told from four points of view - two of which are actual historical characters - the novel centers around the murder of Robert Grove, a senior fellow of New College in Oxford. Four characters relate the circumstances of his death. None are lying, but only one knows what really happened.

This clever presentation kept me stumped up to the end. Moreover, whodunnit was incidental to the real intrigue taking place in Charles II’s court. This involved a conspiracy to rival the Popish Plot.

An Instance of the Fingerpost is an intellectual’s mystery story. You may need a scorecard to keep the evidence, the players, their biases and interpretations in order. Along the way, you’ll pick up a lot of the history of the era. I counted no less than 8 actual historical figures – Richard Lower (one of the first physicians to experiment with blood transfusions), John Locke (philosopher), Robert Boyle (chemist), Thomas Ken (bishop), John Thurloe (spymaster for Oliver Cromwell), John Wallis (mathematician), Anthony Wood (historian) and Christopher Wren (astronomer/architect).

When historical fiction leaves me hungering to learn more about the history, it’s done its job. An Instance of the Fingerpost is my second favorite read of the year, falling only behind As Meat Loves Salt, which is a very different kind of story told, ironically, during a slightly earlier time period. Rating: Excellent

Fiction and Non-Fiction on Richard II

Brian Wainwright, author of Within The Fetterlock, a historical novel about Constance of York who was Edward III’s granddaughter and Richard II’s cousin, offers a bibliography of fiction and non-fiction on Richard II. I especially appreciate that Wainwright highlights the novels that are biographical fiction. He lists separately those that provide background information on Richard or the times.

Next to the entry for Anya Seton’s Katherine, Wainwright remarks that he includes it just in case “there’s anyone out there who hasn’t read it.” That would be me. In fact, I haven’t read any of these books, so I’m going to have to get busy.

Gaveston by Chris Hunt

Told from Edward II’s point of view, Gaveston relates the life of his friend and lover from the time of his arrival in England as a teenager until his murder during the early years of Edward’s reign. Edward’s attraction is immediate.

Piers Gaveston was the most beautiful creation on God’s earth…. [He] had eyes as green as emeralds and a smile that dazzled like the sun….

But Gaveston’s beauty was to be, in Edward’s eyes, his curse. For as much as Edward loves him, others seethe with anger over his special treatment. They resent the gifts Edward bestows on him. They further blame him for Edward’s inattention to important matters ranging from securing his inheritance to dealing with the Scottish wars.

In time, Edward’s cousin, Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, and Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, conspire to capture and kill Gaveston. But the story doesn’t end quite at this point. There’s a brief accounting of Edward’s later relationship with Hugh le Despenser and a 4-paragraph epilogue on Roger Mortimer’s and Isabelle’s (Edward’s queen) imprisonment of Edward.

While the author’s knowledge of the subject is impressive and her inventions (Thomas’ and Edward’s youthful sexual experiments) make sense in light of the story, I find myself unable to recommend it without qualification except to those who never tire of reading about this time period or these characters.

The problem with the novel is threefold: While well-researched, it never really breaks out of the gay historical romance model. The sex is often, explicit and largely unnecessary. Second, while Edward clearly was a weak ineffectual king, his portrayal as an immature, petulant, sniveling man who can’t get Gaveston’s nether parts out of his head grates.

Third, telling the story from Edward’s point of view sometimes made it farcical. For instance, at the end of a section where Edward tells about leaving England to marry Isabelle, he says, “I simply cannot understand why so many people took offence when I left him [Gaveston] regent in my absence.” While Edward lacked good judgment, this remark makes him stupid. Rating: Good.

See also: Read a review of this novel from someone who is quite knowledgeable about the man: Gaveston by Chris Hunt on Edward II