I’d actually read this book a few years ago, but when looking for something short enough that I could finish it Sunday afternoon, I decided this fit the bill. Sherryl Jordan is from New Zealand; she’s written several novels, most prominently Winter of Fire, Secret Sacrament, and this one. She also writes picture books; she actually started her career as an illustrator. As far as I can tell, about eight of her books are available in the U.S. Several were shortlisted for awards, primarily in her home country.

In a medieval, slightly fantastic world, Marnie has just gotten married, to save her family, to the second son of the local lord. He’s much older than her; she was completely unprepared for the realities of marriage, and when he dies two days later, she’s only a little sorry. They had moved a day away from their families to a little seaside town called Torcurra; now Marnie is a widow, and friendless. Only the priest (Father Brannan) and the local madman pay any attention to her, and due to a combination of a genuinely nice nature and a lack of other people around, she figures out that he isn’t actually mad, he’s deaf. She starts making a sort of sign language to communicate with him, and between that and her husband’s untimely death, the locals aren’t too fond of her. And then her dead husband’s brother comes sniffing around . . .

There isn’t magic to speak of in this book; it’s probably most related to Ireland or Scotland (minus folktales) around 1000 or so. There is no technology to speak of; Marnie isn’t taught to read, but she works a lot with thatching and other ‘men’s’ labor. This is, of course, very useful for her (also called a ‘deus ex machina’) when her husband dies; it allows her an independence that she wouldn’t have otherwise. The priest holds a fair amount of power in the town; the villagers are very superstitious and suspicious of strangers. They believe in witches and curses and that devils fly out of the mouth of the madman when he makes awful noises. Considering that Marnie is a female with a little bit of power, and new in town, it’s obvious to see where the story is going to go.

I thought that Marnie’s relationship with her husband was very nuanced. There’s a flashback near the beginning, and in the flashback, she finds him attractive, somewhat — he’s much more mature than the boys who were courting her. He’s also not bad-looking, and was very nice to her and her family. Even in the current time, she can still look at him and see that he is not a bad man, and that he could make her life better. Unfortunately, she was only sixteen, and had no understanding of the reality of living with a man who wasn’t her father (who was apparently not a drinking sort, and not very likely to beat his wife). This included not only sex, but the entire negotiation of the balance of power; it didn’t happen at all, because she was a young peasant in a bad financial situation who married an older member of the gentry with the power. Due to Marnie’s independent nature (which she always had), it was a little bit doomed to failure. However, she was attracted to him in the beginning, before she agreed to marry him, even if she didn’t fully understand it.

Marnie’s sign language, and the frustrations of teaching a young man who has not been socialized in any way, felt very real. Of course, part of this is because (we find out in the afterword) Ms. Jordan had been working with profoundly deaf students for years. She used her experiences to color Marnie’s with verisimilitude (it’s an interesting greenish color — no, wait, that’s verdigris). In terms of verisimilitude, I should also mention that the book contains a euphemistically described rape scene, as well as beatings and a trial for witchcraft that involves burning flesh. In many ways, it’s a very adult book; I probably wouldn’t recommend it for anyone too much under fourteen. The themes aren’t particularly subtle and there isn’t a lot of politics, but Marnie’s life isn’t particularly easy, and some of the ideas are rather adult. The idea of sexual compatibility in marriage, for example. I suspect this book could lead to many interesting familial discussions, if read in tandem by mothers and daughters (or, perhaps, fathers and/or sons). I’d recommend it for both; the topics of other-ness and being different are always ones that need to be considered. Other than a second deus ex machina in the plot and Marnie’s overly self-sacrificing nature, I very much enjoyed this book. 4/5 stars.