Review written for ClubReading.com by Barbara
In the 12th century, a great cathedral is conceived of, and slowly, through the course of the book, it comes into being. We follow the building of the cathedral and the lives intertwined with it, lives so vividly and skillfully described by Follett that we slip back through time to eat, to love, to fear, and to struggle through these harsh times with people we quickly grow to care about deeply. Through them we can see the crudeness of the Middle Ages, catch the odor of it; we can hear the sounds of wagons and feel the straw-filled mattresses beneath us. And, as is true with all Follett’s work, the story begins on the first page and never lets up until the last. You’ll pull all-nighters with this one.
EXCERPT FROM The Pillars of the Earth:
“I’m here to see my father,” Aliena said. “He is the earl of Shiring.”
“No, he’s not,” said the jailer. “He’s just plain Bartholomew now.”
“To hell with your distinctions, jailer. Where is he?”
“How much have you got?”
“I’ve no money, so don’t bother asking for a bribe.”
“If you’ve no money, you can’t see your father.” He resumed sweeping.
Aliena wanted to scream. She was within a few yards of her father and she was being kept from him. The jailer was big and he was armed: there was no chance of defying him. But she did not have any money. She had been afraid of this when she saw the woman Meg give him a penny, but that might have been for some special privilege. Obviously not: a penny must be the price of admission.
She said: “I’ll get a penny, and bring it to you as soon as I can. But won’t you let us see him now, just for a few moments?”
“Get the penny first,” the jailer said. He turned his back and went on sweeping.
Aliena was fighting back tears. She was tempted to yell out a message in the hope that her father would hear her; but she realized that a garbled message might frighten and demoralize him: it would make him anxious without giving him any information. She went to the door, feeling maddeningly impotent.
She turned around on the threshold. “How is he? Just tell me that-please? Is he all right?”
“No, he’s not,” the jailer said. “He’s dying. Now get out of here.”