Marvelous Middle Grade Monday: The Inquisitor's Tale, by Adam Gidwitz

Thank God for beautiful Middle Grade books. Seriously--I am not being light in my choice of words. Thank you, Lord, for inspiring authors and giving them the strength to create little patches of beauty in a darkening world. I am so grateful.

And thank you, authors, for being open to that grace. Every book is a small miracle.

Today I'd like to particularly thank Adam Gidwitz, who tapped into some deep, wonderful, tricky-to-write-about things in his latest middle grade book, and created a work of art that I honestly believe every adult in today's world should read. Today. If you are depressed about the election or its aftermath, if you are downcast about the prejudice you see in the world, if you feel like all that you can do to help is far too little: read The Inquisitor's Tale. It will remind you that dark moments do not dark ages make.

Here's the publisher's summary:

"1242. On a dark night, travelers from across France cross paths at an inn and begin to tell stories of three children. Their adventures take them on a chase through France: they are taken captive by knights, sit alongside a king, and save the land from a farting dragon. On the run to escape prejudice and persecution and save precious and holy texts from being burned, their quest drives them forward to a final showdown at Mont Saint-Michel, where all will come to question if these children can perform the miracles of saints. 

Join William, an oblate on a mission from his monastery; Jacob, a Jewish boy who has fled his burning village; and Jeanne, a peasant girl who hides her prophetic visions. They are accompanied by Jeanne's loyal greyhound, Gwenforte . . . recently brought back from the dead. Told in multiple voices, in a style reminiscent of The Canterbury Tales, our narrator collects their stories and the saga of these three unlikely allies begins to come together." 

And my thoughts:

As a writer, I'm happily stunned by the sheer beauty and power of phrases and sentences in this story. Beautiful, beautiful.

As a reader, I found the story at turns heartwarming and exciting, and proof that historical fiction need not (and should not) be dull. Gidwitz brought the Middle Ages to life--bright, smelly, beautiful, breathtaking, grimy, delicious life.

And...as a Catholic... here my feelings get more complicated. There's a current level of acceptability in writing stories that reflect my beliefs as a Catholic in a poor light. I mean, we've got a couple thousand years of history behind us, so there are going to be some ugly moments. People are sinners, and no race or creed escapes that. Saints were sinners once, too. So I accept accounts of the nastier moments of Church history with humility, but I really, really appreciate when authors take the time to show that even the nasty moments are nuanced. That saints have sinned, yes, but also that sinners have moments of saintliness. And Adam Gidwitz is one of those authors, and I'm very appreciative of the effort he made to show all the sides of his story. 

He also did an excellent job of reflecting what I see as core values in my life as a Catholic: that God does work in our lives; that God works through us, but that we can either accept or refuse His grace and inspiration; that rejecting and hating someone who is different than myself is rejecting God himself. 

So when I get a little nit-picky here, please laugh me off as a Catholic nerd and know that Mr. Gidwitz in no way offended me when he got some small things wrong. Because I have a lot of Dominican friends, I noticed the Dominican friars in the book dressed in brown robes, and wondered if they ever wore brown robes in the past, or whether if they did for some reason if they would still be recognized as Dominicans. As far as I'm aware or have come across in my research, they've always worn their distinctive white robes and black capes. (If I'm wrong here, please let me know, because that is just the geeky fact I would love to have in my possession.) I wondered about the use of the word "martyr" in the earlier sections of the book, used to denote a heroic death (as opposed to one specifically in defense of the Faith)-- I doubt that a Christian of the middle ages, brought up as they were on tales of saints and martyrs, would have accepted that use. (Though the clarification of that word at the end made me fist bump the air.) Lastly--while I understand that it's difficult to convey just how complicated the Inquisition was in a children's book, I do wish the author hadn't fallen back on the now-stereotyped "The pope was wicked" trope. Perhaps because this was a children's book, one I plan to share with my own children, I wish that aspect was more subtly conveyed. There were just soooooo many politics involved that it's a shame to throw all the blame on Church hierarchy.

But let me end on what was awesome: the last chapter, and all its revelations. Even if you're a Catholic more sensitive to having some mud thrown on our past than I am, you have to get to that amazing last chapter. I can't even say the thing I love most about it (hint: it's a character) without getting very, very spoilery and ruining a surprise that even caught my writer brain unawares. You'll like it, I promise.