Twilight of Avalon by Anna Elliot

[Divia]

Queen Isolde is the granddaughter of the legendary, and sometimes feared, Morgan Le Fay. She is the wife of Constantine, or I should say widow. King Constantine has been killed which has thrown the kingdom into chaos. Isolde is a woman without male protection. Now that she is recently widowed she is seen as a valuable prize. Powerful men in the kingdom want to make Isolde their wife, but she fears for her land and a possible Saxon invasion.

I enjoyed this story a lot. I'll be bold and say I thought Twilight of Avalon was the perfect sequel to Mists of Avalon. The story fit so nicely and made perfect sense. Isolde is a woman who knows and understands the limits on her gender during these hard times. She does not have a lot of choices and that is one reason why she teams up with the mercenary Trystan. They form an uneasy alliance for the greater good.

If readers are looking for a sappy love story this isn't the novel for them. I'm guessing we will get more romance in the other books.

I would have enjoyed it more if there had been more magic in the novel. I know its not a carbon copy of Mists of Avalon but I really would have enjoyed a little more focus on the "old religion." Still, despite that one complaint I really enjoyed it a lot and cannot wait for the other novels.

[Carla]

I've just finished reading this. I liked the absence of magic! Probably because I wasn't all that fond of Mists of Avalon (each to her own).

I was just about to post my review, so I'll post it on this thread if no-one minds.

[Carla]

Edition reviewed: Touchstone 2009, ISBN 978-1-4165-8989-1. 426 pages.

Twilight of Avalon is subtitled “A novel of Trystan and Isolde”, and is billed as Book 1 of a trilogy. It’s set in Britain seven years after King Arthur’s death at the battle of Camlann, some time in the first half of the sixth century or thereabouts. Trystan, Isolde and King Mark (here spelled Marche) are famous characters in Arthurian legend, and other characters from the legends such as Merlin, Mordred and Arthur’s sister Morgan make appearances. The author’s note says that Madoc of Gwynedd is loosely based on the historical figure of Maelgwn Gwynedd. All the other main characters are fictional.

Isolde is the illegitimate daughter of Mordred, King Arthur’s son and nephew by incest with Morgan, and of King Arthur’s unfaithful wife Guinevere. Orphaned at the age of 13 when Mordred was killed fighting Arthur at Camlann, Isolde was married to Arthur’s heir, the boy-king Constantine and made High Queen of Britain, at least in name. Now Constantine has been killed, in battle as is thought (though Isolde knows it was murder), and Isolde’s position at court has become extremely precarious. She is widely distrusted as a witch, because of her descent from Morgan and because she has skills as a healer and a limited power of second sight. Evil King Marche of Cornwall is scheming to get the High Kingship for himself, and forces Isolde into marriage as part of a traitorous plot. With her only possible ally among the lesser kings dead in suspicious circumstances, Isolde flees from the court at Tintagel to seek evidence of Marche’s treason. She finds herself forming a reluctant alliance with a mysterious prisoner, Trystan, who has lately escaped from Marche’s dungeons, and his three rag-tag companions. Isolde must not only find a way to foil Marche’s treason, but also come to terms with her own past.

If you’re familiar with the story of Tristan and Isolde from Wagner’s opera or from the Arthurian romances, you’ll find Twilight of Avalon a very different take. Despite the “sweeping romance” promise in the cover blurb, the traditional romantic love story doesn’t make any appearance at all, though there are hints that it may be intended for Book 2 and/or 3. There’s no glamorous Camelot and no high chivalry. The setting is the darkest of Dark Ages, an unremittingly grim world of violence, chaos and betrayal. With few exceptions, the kings of Britain are violent, arrogant, deceitful, self-centred and/or a bit thick. None of them features on the list of tyrants named by Gildas in On the Ruin and Conquest of Britain*, but they are clearly cut from the same cloth. The lives of the warrior aristocracy are nasty, brutish and short; you probably don’t want to imagine how miserable this world must be for the peasantry off-stage.

There are some fantasy elements to the novel, and some features of the traditional high medieval setting are retained. Tintagel is a stone-built castle with turrets and dungeons, travellers with no money living rough eat rabbit stew and wear rabbitskin cloaks**, literacy is so all-pervasive that an uneducated man who cannot read and write says of another character “he might as well have ‘Saxon’ stamped on his forehead”, copper coins are a standard medium of exchange and despite the chaos and poverty there is sufficient of a mercantile economy for a hermit living on a wild moor in the middle of nowhere to have ready access to a supply of wine. A crucial plot twist depends on Isolde having a real power of second sight that actually works, and another depends on a character apparently seeing a ghost conjured up by some supernatural power on Isolde’s part. Isolde has somehow induced total amnesia about her entire life prior to the battle of Camlann, apparently by effort of will, and hears strange supernatural voices. That said, there is much less mysticism and magic than in many Arthurian novels, which was a major plus point for me. An early reference to goddess-worship and the Christian church being responsible for the oppression of women had me rolling my eyes, but I was glad to find that the question of religion is more interestingly handled as the book develops, with an open-minded Christian hermit drawing a parallel between magic and miracles.

The pace is leisurely, not to say slow. With its minute-by-minute account of Isolde’s thoughts and feelings, the narrative can take a lot of pages to cover not very much ground. For example, the first two chapters (27 pages) are occupied by Isolde contemplating the body of her dead husband in church, and taking food to two prisoners and tending their injuries occupies 17 pages. About a third of the way in I had hopes that the plot might pick up, as Isolde decides to go in search of a goldsmith-cum-spy who can bear witness to Marche’s treachery, but was disappointed. The narrative promptly bogged down again in a sequence of escape, recapture, re-escape, re-recapture and re-re-escape interspersed with scenes of Isolde nursing just about every other character through illness or injury, the goldsmith was never mentioned again and the urgent need to find proof of Marche’s treasonous dealings seemed to just fade away. I wonder if the book was drastically cut to length and half the plot vanished, leaving these (to my mind) rather annoying loose ends, or if perhaps they are going to be picked up somehow in Books 2 and 3. I also felt the escape-recapture cycle got a bit repetitive for my taste. Guards working for an evil tyrant are traditionally inefficient, partly for plot purposes and partly because tyrannical leadership styles rarely get the best out of their subordinates, but having the same guards fall for the same trick pulled by the same prisoner twice within a few days stretched my credulity.

Twilight of Avalon is very much Isolde’s story, as all events are seen through her eyes and understood through her feelings. Fortunately, Isolde is an attractive and even admirable character. She is essentially powerless, a pawn in the games of kings like Marche, but she is not weak, she never whines and she never gives up. She makes use of her wits, her limited supernatural powers and whatever else comes to hand in her quest to outwit Marche. Isolde is also a gifted storyteller, and numerous tales and legends are nested into the narrative, giving an extra layer of depth to the setting. Isolde dominates the novel so completely that I found my perception of the whole book altering with my reactions to her character. Twilight of Avalon should suit readers who like to identify with a particular character, provided they take to Isolde and her emotional journey.

The secondary characters – everybody else – perhaps divide a little too readily into good and bad, though Madoc of Gwynedd is an interestingly complex character with a mix of qualities. I hope to see more of him in the sequels. I’d have liked to see more of his point of view in this novel, particularly with regard to his apparently sudden change of heart. I’d also have liked to see Trystan’s viewpoint. Isolde’s amnesia governs her reactions to him (and is essential to the plot), but Trystan has no similar amnesia and I was curious about his motivations and his opinion of (and feelings for?) Isolde. He spends most of the novel in a prison cell, almost as powerless as Isolde, yet he clearly has experience and skills as a soldier and a leader of men. I hope Trystan’s role will be further developed in the sequels.

Although billed as Book 1 of a trilogy, Twilight of Avalon feels to me like the first third of a single long book. The mystery of Trystan’s identity is resolved (for those readers who didn’t guess it as soon as he appeared, or at least as soon as he was named), but little else is. The outcome of Marche’s treasonous dealings, the ongoing war, Trystan’s role, Isolde’s position at court, and her relationship with the lesser kings and with Trystan are all To Be Continued.

First instalment in a retelling of the Tristan and Isolde legend, with a strong focus on Isolde’s emotional journey and a refreshingly low quotient of magic and mysticism.



*Madoc of Gwynedd is loosely based on Maelgwn Gwynedd, who is usually identified with Gildas’ Maglocunus, but if the character has done any of the outrageous things for which Gildas castigated his historical counterpart, they don’t feature in the book.

**There’s a debate about whether the Romans or the Normans introduced rabbits to Britain, but in the 13th century rabbit was an expensive luxury food. Rabbits didn’t become the ubiquitous free country pie filling until at least the late Middle Ages.

[Misfit]

Thanks both of you and interesting opinions. I liked the lack of magic too but I had a few problems that finally got to me and I gave up about 50 pages before the end. The constant escape and recaptures Carla mentioned were one, as well as I was beginning to feel like I was in an action/adventure movie with Butch, Sundance and Etta. The thing that bothered me the worst though was the way Tristan swore, things like "Jesus Mary and Joseph". I wasn't even sure if he was Christian or Pagen but either way it didn't fit for me.

It's probably just me, it usually is. Everyone else is loving it :):o

[Carla]

I think Trystan is probably at least nominally Christian, although he clearly knows the pagan tradition of Valhalla (Wealhall in the novel), but because we never get to see his point of view I'm not sure about that. I hope to see more of him in the rest of the story. I have a feeling that there's more to his presence in Marche's dungeons in the first place than meets the eye.

[Misfit]

I think once the second book comes out I'd like to finish it and try the next one. Series or no, I don't like a lot of lose ends.

[Divia]

The thing that bothered me the worst though was the way Tristan swore, things like "Jesus Mary and Joseph". I wasn't even sure if he was Christian or Pagen but either way it didn't fit for me.

It's probably just me, it usually is. Everyone else is loving it :):o


Maybe he is both. :p They have Catholic Pagans now. Maybe he believed in a God but also a Goddess who watches over the Earth and deals with the crops.

[Anna Elliott]

I don't want to intrude on the discussion or give anyone a "the author is watching you" feeling! :) Just wanted to stop by and say thanks to both Divia and Carla for the reviews! And if anyone has any questions or anything I can clarify, just drop me a line.

Divia, that's actually pretty accurate! This was a period when Christianity was still new in Britain, so even believers in the Christian faith would have been familiar with and even believed in the old pagan gods. Much has been made in fiction of the Christian/pagan conflict--and certainly in some parts of the world there was huge turbulence. But the most recent scholarship is suggesting that the transition in Britain was a relatively smooth one. The average commoner would most likely have been fairly pragmatic about it all and seen no problem in praying to both the Christian God and a pagan goddess or goddesses.

[Divia]

Anna,
Thanks for the reply. I look forward to your next one. I saw your upcoming cover on someone's blog. I liked it a lot.

I will be pming you a question. I hope you don't mind. :)

[Tanzanite]

I just finished this last night and enjoyed it very much - I am looking forward to the rest of the series.

I do have to agree with Misfit about the swearing (not that I'm opposed to swearing in books) but those that Trystan uses sounded too modern to me. I have no idea when the first utterances of "for Christ's sake" and "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" were, but they just seemed out of place.

[Anna Elliott]

Is it okay for me to comment? After the rather prominent recent incidents of authors responding to criticism in the media, I'm hesitant to open my mouth!:)

Church law from 325 AD onwards contains injunctions against and accounts of punishments for various forms of verbal blasphemy--i.e. taking the Lord's name in vain. The reality, though, is that no one knows what colloquial 5th-century Celtic speech patterns sounded like. When confronted with a dilemma like this, the historical novelist can either a. invent or b. use already established speech patterns. (Writers like Adele Geras, Ruth Downie, and to an extent Bernard Cornwell are examples of the later choice). Not that I'm saying at all that one is preferable over the other--just that I personally tend to prefer option B, so did more or less the same.

Let me stress that if anyone finds this out of place or off-putting, that is perfectly okay--your response is every bit as valid as mine. Just wanted to clarify that it was a conscious choice and not something I didn't consider at all.

[Divia]

I dont think anyone minds if you respond. I think they mind if you respond in a snarky way. ;) Not saying you would respond that way, but I think that's what is off putting to a lot of readers. Ya know, don't call one of us a moron like that one author. :)

I personally enjoy it when our authors explain stuff or join in the conversation.

[Misfit]

I dont think anyone minds if you respond. I think they mind if you respond in a snarky way. ;) Not saying you would respond that way, but I think that's what is off putting to a lot of readers. Ya know, don't call one of us a moron like that one author. :)

I personally enjoy it when our authors explain stuff or join in the conversation.

I second that, it helps a lot to have the author explain things in a forum like this.

PS, I am going to try this book again when I'm in a different mood and see if it works better. Sometimes things happen mid-week when I'm tired and a book and I go sideways

[Carla]

Is it okay for me to comment? After the rather prominent recent incidents of authors responding to criticism in the media, I'm hesitant to open my mouth!:)

Church law from 325 AD onwards contains injunctions against and accounts of punishments for various forms of verbal blasphemy--i.e. taking the Lord's name in vain. The reality, though, is that no one knows what colloquial 5th-century Celtic speech patterns sounded like. When confronted with a dilemma like this, the historical novelist can either a. invent or b. use already established speech patterns. (Writers like Adele Geras, Ruth Downie, and to an extent Bernard Cornwell are examples of the later choice). Not that I'm saying at all that one is preferable over the other--just that I personally tend to prefer option B, so did more or less the same.

Let me stress that if anyone finds this out of place or off-putting, that is perfectly okay--your response is every bit as valid as mine. Just wanted to clarify that it was a conscious choice and not something I didn't consider at all.

I can't speak for anybody else, Anna, but I'm very happy to see you come and comment!

I had the same problem, for the same reason. I tend to prefer option (b) as well, if the relevant religion is still in use and has modern blasphemies that can stand in for whatever their fifth- and sixth-century equivalents were. It's trickier with extinct religions, and what I ended up doing there was to borrow the form of medieval or Elizabethan swearing ("God's bones", etc) and substitute the name of a pagan god. It's difficult, and probably no solution is going to satisfy everyone.

Can I ask about the date? I guessed it was early sixth century, since it's seven years after Camlann, and just wondered if I guessed right, and whether you had a particular date or date range in mind. I was quite taken with Madoc of Gwynedd and have been trying to relate him to the historical Maelgwn.

[Anna Elliott]

The date question is a little tricky, since the year of Camlann is hotly debated among scholars within a span of roughly 20 years, some putting it at 537 or 539AD, others at around 518AD. But yes, early 6th century is when I intended my story to be set. Very, very little is known for certain about that time period, so it gave me more freedom to invent. :)

I confess to being fond of Madoc, too. :) He was character that kind of took over during the writing and grew to take on a far more important role than I'd originally thought he would. Look for more of him in Books 2 and 3! Maelgwn Hir, or Maelgwn Gwynedd is a fascinating character, with many wild tales associated with his name--most probably entirely fictional, which was why I only loosely based my Madoc after him. There's quite a good synthesis of the legends about him at the Early British Kingdoms web page here: http://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/bios/maelgggd.html

[Anna Elliott]

And Divia, even if I were rude enough to think such a thing (which I promise I am not!) I change diapers all day, for goodness sake! There's just no way I could take myself seriously enough to call anyone rude names! :)

But seriously, what I really wanted to make sure was clear was that if I comment, I'm only offering my own perspective, not claiming that because I'm the author it's the only or most authoritative one. Once a book is published, I don't look at it as "mine" anymore--it belongs to everyone who reads it and responds to it, and every one of those responses is just as true and important as mine.

Thanks for letting me take part, though, everyone!

[Divia]

Thats a good attitude. I just wish other authors out there would do the same! I appreciate authors input. We wont agree on everything but its cool to see where they were coming from. :)

Thanks again.

[Misfit]

Anna we love talking with authors in this forum and learning more about what went in to your book. Plus having you answer questions ;)

[Anna Elliott]

Thanks, Misfit! :)

And Carla, this is such an incredibly minor point that I hesitate to bring it up--truly, I don't mean to nit-pick!--but I believe that one species of rabbit (Spanish rabbit, I think) was introduced to Britain by the Romans, when archaeological evidence suggests that it was fairly common as a source of meat and fur. Then other species of rabbits were introduced in the 11th century by the Normans, who as you say considered them quite a valuable commodity and guarded them in specially built warrens.

Sorry! I'm a bit of a research junkie! :) I do try to avoid what Diana Gabaldon calls the, I've done the research and now you're going to pay mindset--but it's hard! :)

[Tanzanite]

Is it okay for me to comment? After the rather prominent recent incidents of authors responding to criticism in the media, I'm hesitant to open my mouth!:)

Church law from 325 AD onwards contains injunctions against and accounts of punishments for various forms of verbal blasphemy--i.e. taking the Lord's name in vain. The reality, though, is that no one knows what colloquial 5th-century Celtic speech patterns sounded like. When confronted with a dilemma like this, the historical novelist can either a. invent or b. use already established speech patterns. (Writers like Adele Geras, Ruth Downie, and to an extent Bernard Cornwell are examples of the later choice). Not that I'm saying at all that one is preferable over the other--just that I personally tend to prefer option B, so did more or less the same.

Let me stress that if anyone finds this out of place or off-putting, that is perfectly okay--your response is every bit as valid as mine. Just wanted to clarify that it was a conscious choice and not something I didn't consider at all.


Thank you for the explanation. Given that so little is known about this time period I understand and respect the situation that puts you (as the writer) in. And although I found those particular swear words out of place, I would be hard pressed to come up with an alternative.:) They also didn't affect my overall enjoyment of the story.

[Divia]

When the pagan side of me swears (if you can call it that) I say "By the Goddess!" Or "Goddess and ancestors!" or "Oh my Goddess!" but I really like Goddess and ancestors the best. :)

[Anna Elliott]

Thanks so much, Tanzanite!

Oh, and I forgot to say earlier that the Tintagel question--and it's an interesting one!--is actually one of the FAQ's on my website here (http://www.annaelliottbooks.com/twilight-FAQs.php#tintagel).