This book describes the journeys of two pilgrims as they trek (barefoot) from Avignon in France to Campo Santiago in southern Spain. Although they follow the same route, they do so almost seven hundred years apart. They each carry their own emotional and spiritual burdens. They deal with the same problems of finding food and shelter along the route. They each encounter a cast of other pilgrims, itinerants and locals, some of whom are supportive and amiable, some of whom are not. Increasingly, as they walk, they become aware of another companion, benign and inspiring although insubstantial, and weirdly the two, separated by time, find commonality in their shared quest.
On some levels this book worked really well, on others - not so much. So I find myself a bit torn.
The first thing to say about this book is that it is a banquet of beautifully described scenery and minutely observed historic architecture. Anyone familiar with France and Spain will enjoy the sensitive and informed descriptions of hilltop villages, sprawling cities, walled towns, churches, monasteries and market places. The writer gives a faithful and detailed itinerary of the whole pilgrimage, town by town, hill by hill, and as such I think this book could easily be a pilgrim’s companion or an inspiration to take such a pilgrimage. It really is very well written, plus there are some really lovely pencil sketches of various landmarks and two informative maps.
So, as a travelogue, it’s great.
But as a novel, it has serious flaws. The meticulous description of the route - lovely in itself - does rather hamper the plot. Miles are covered, villages explored, mountains, woods and pasturelands traversed without really impacting the plot’s progression or the characters’ development.
Both characters set off on their journeys plagued by a sense of guilt and shame which, in neither case, is warranted by the events which provoke it; both are much more sinned against than sinning. As a plot device, therefore this didn’t really work for me as an impetus for their pilgrimage. They have reason, indeed - family reasons, a desire for answers, the hope of a spiritual affirmation - but they are not developed by the writer.
The interesting intersection of the two protagonists could have been used to much greater dramatic effect, turning this book into a ‘time-shift’ novel such as Daphne Du Maurier’s ‘House on the Strand’ or Michael Crichton’s ‘Timeline’. I wanted Dominic and Nastasha to interact much more palpably, to talk, to cross over into one another’s lives, to rescue each other physically as they do spiritually and emotionally. But their glimpses of each other were fleeting, inconclusive and frustrating.
I really wished that the heroine had been given another name. Her diminutive ‘Nasty’ held all kinds of negative connotations, wholly undeserved. Having said that, the (male) writer really does get inside the head of his teenage female heroine to an extra-ordinarily good degree, not something I could say of many male writers.
My conclusion is that this book could not be much better as a travelogue but could be substantially improved as a novel. Crucially, I believe the writer has the ability to improve it so that it becomes the book - travelogue and novel both - that it is crying out to be. I hope he does.