Sarum: The Novel of England, Reviewed by Denise Noe
Sarum: The Novel of England by Edward Rutherford is an enormously ambitious work. Sarum is the ancient name for Salisbury and the author writes a fictionalized history of Salisbury that starts in pre-historical times and continues to 1987. That he succeeds in weaving such a complicated tapestry is a testament to his extraordinary research, his wonderfully firm grasp of human personality, and his fast-paced dramatic writing. Sarum is many things but it is most of all a good read.
By lacing his narrative with so much believable period detail, he makes the universals of his story immediate and fresh. The novel involves five different families as they rise and fall in fortune throughout the ages of Sarum. Especially vibrant are Rutherford’s portraits of significant characters in the Mason family. The author may have a special understanding of this family because they are artisans. Nooma-ti, the physically homely founder of the family, is in charge of the construction of Stonehenge. His dedication to his craft and his personal problems with his adulterous wife are riveting.
Even more powerful, indeed the most fascinating accomplishment in this very accomplished work, is the portrait of medieval architect Osmund Mason. Like his distant ancestor, Osmund is physically unprepossessing and like him he finds relief in his art. On two of the most important occasions of his life, Osmund seizes victory from defeat by transforming frustration and humiliation into art. After a sculpture he has worked hard and lovingly upon is stolen, he spends the night feverishly making a new one of the thief taking the lost one. After he is tricked by the girl he loves into taking his clothes off in a forest and is forced to return home to his village stark naked, he sculpts a beautiful figure of her as Eve and himself as Adam.
Still later in the novel Rutherford paints a haunting portrait of self-deception in the figure of the seemingly pious, even fanatical, Abigail Mason. Through her, he conveys the bloody history of the Reformation in England and the perennially relevant story of human passion.
As Rutherford skillfully takes Sarum into the modern era, he dramatizes the enormous changes that take place and how they effect countries, families, and individuals just as he explores the emotional constants that characterize the human personality in any culture.
| More from Denise Noe
Stumble It!
July 16th, 2008 at 7:14 am
Sounds an engrossing romp through the pages, Denise. I remember Sarum well. Old Sarum that is, on Salisbury Plain. Things change very slowly down in those parts. It is where I did the NATO psywar program at a British Army base, where many of the older chaps still wore woad off duty.
Does Rutherford mention dogs at all? Dogs are revered there. Military Officers from some 15 countries attended the program which was run by Maj Gen. Dr, Professor Dick Clutterbuck – at the time the world’s foremost counter-terrorism expert – and I was teamed up with a German Lt. Col who commanded a Psywar battalion. He was facinated with the fact that British Officers all had dogs with them during the lectures and exercises.
These were old dogs; fat; slow; pedigrees as long as your arm, and very long names. They waddled in and flopped down beside their master’s feet and slept all day. When I explained that most British Army Officers had either a dog as a constant companion – and which was permitted in the Mess and everywhere else – or a horse, he thought the tradition was Vundebahhh. He was determined to institute the ‘Man and his Dog’ idea back in Germany in his own Mess.
One morning he didn’t show for lectures, causing some consternation, for which some Colonel (who ought to have known RAF Officers better) felt I might have something to do with. I put him straight. After lunch Lt. Col. Fritz came back. He had been to Bristol to a pedigree dog farm and bought a 6 week old pup. The little chap on a dainty lead was delighted to see all these large ‘daddy’ dogs and crawled all over them piddling profusely with happiness.
The reaction of his hosts, these neanderthal (but highly, haughtily mannered) British Army Officers was to immediately ostracise the poor fellow. “Damn Hun”, mutters were heard. They thought he was taking the mickey.
July 16th, 2008 at 10:18 am
amfortas said,
Sounds an engrossing romp through the pages, Denise. I remember Sarum well. Old Sarum that is, on Salisbury Plain. Things change very slowly down in those parts. It is where I did the NATO psywar program at a British Army base, where many of the older chaps still wore woad off duty.
Does Rutherford mention dogs at all?
(Denise) IIRC dogs get pretty short shrift in “Sarum.” However, since you’re interested in dogs, you might want to check out today’s blog and the short story to which I put in a link. A dog is very prominent in both.