Customer Reviews

Crusader

5 star:		(19)
4 star:		(13)
3 star:		(5)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

A fan of historical fiction, I consider Steven Pressfield's "Gates of Fire" the standard of the genre from which all others are measured. I have searched for several years to find a book that approaches the flavor of Pressfield's work. With his first novel, Michael Alexander Eisner approaches that level. I was pleasantly surprised when I found that the 'advanced praise' on the back cover supplied by Mr. Pressfield; he could not have picked a better book to endorse.

Similar to "Gates," "The Crusader" is narrated through the eyes of another. A Cistercian monk is tasked with the exorcism of Francisco Montcada, a knight from the Spanish order Calatrava returning from his crusade "haunted by demons." As Francisco's confessor, the monk is taken on this adventure that begins with a detailed look at the training proferred by 'Uncle Ramon,' the leader of the Knights of Calatrava. Once trained, Francisco and 140 Knights of Calatrava embark on their journey to the Holy Land. Eisner takes us graphically through two major engagements, one a success, the other a dismal failure. Francisco ends up in The Citadel, the infamous Muslim prison you may remember from the opening scene in Kevin Costner's "Robin Hood." Ransomed, Francisco returns to Spain a broken man.

The timeliness of "The Crusader" has an uncomfortable sense about it. As I journeyed with Francisco on his mission to recover the Holy Land from the infidels, the US mission in Afghanistan continued to surface in my mind. I perceived similarities between the Crusades and America's war on terror. Eisner writes often of the Muslim mentality, and it was too close for comfort.

I cannot speak for the historical accuracy of "The Crusader." I have a strong sense that Eisner did his homework. With that conviction, I finished the novel (in short order as it was extremely difficult to put down) and felt that I had received a layman's education in an area of history and with events that I was previously only vaguely familiar with.

Right or wrong, I often base my recommendations on whether or not I could see this novel unfold on the big screen. Frankly, as I wait for Michael Mann and George Clooney to pick up their pace with "Gates of Fire," I am anxious for someone to move forward with this novel and bring it to life.

"The Crusader" was extremely interesting and fast-paced. Eisner does a fine job with his character development. Many I loved, others I hated. In the final analysis, if you, like I am, are a fan of historical fiction, you must read "The Crusader."

In 1275, Francisco de Montcada returns to the Monastery of Santes Creus after years of fighting and imprisonment in the Holy Land, his soul burdened by his deeds. Sent by Archbishop Santo of Tarragona, Brother Lucas assumes the exorcism of his friend, who has been chained to the cell for his own protection. Francisco has been in the care of Father Adelmo, an exorcist who claims more than one thousand successes: although they did not survive, these victims were able to achieve salvation before they died.

For all their prayers and penitence, the monks exhibit the casual brutality of the 13th century, prior to the conflagration that would follow with the Spanish Inquisition. Seasoned by the use of extreme cures for spiritual ills when battling for a soul, fatal wounds are commonly inflicted to enable salvation. When Brother Lucas takes over, Father Adelmo has exhausted every means short of a deadly cranial incision to release Francisco's evil spirits. Trained by the more moderate and psychologically inclined Brother Vial, Brother Lucas is sympathetic to Francisco's temperament and holds the knight in high regard. Only with time does Brother Lucas draw out Francisco's "confession".

Brother Lucas' tongue-in-cheek narration of his actions on behalf of the Lord exposes the many flaws of power joined to worship. The purchase of favors, indulgences and position belie the very humility exhibited by powerful bishops and abbots. Even the Cistercians, seeking to redress the worldliness of the Benedictines, indulge in their petty grievances. As he climbs the ladder of success in the religious hierarchy of the monastery, Brother Lucas explains the self-serving details of each promotion: "I never lost faith that the Lord or one of His illustrious servants would recognize that quality and reward my fealty."

Francisco de Montcada never craves the Sword or the Cross, but when his brother, Sergio, the heir, falls in love with God and is called to the Cistercian Order, their father convinces Sergio to go on Crusade instead. A tragedy leaves Francisco the only son; distraught, Francisco dreams that he can redeem his brother by taking his place. In the heart-rending saga of Francisco's dark journey of the soul in the Holy Land, Christians slay Infidels, honor betrayed by the horrors of the battlefield and the excesses committed in the name of righteousness. With his cousin, Andreas Correa de Girona, at his side, the men march into the mouth of hell. Bearing the weight of his own self-judgment, Francisco cannot forgive himself or the rampages of the Christian soldiers against the helpless survivors. Eventually, Andreas' cousin, Isabel de Correa, travels to Santes Creus to aid in Francisco's recovery, where all three, monk, knight and maiden are beset by unexpected dangers once more.

This novel is reminiscent of Jean-Christophe Rufin's The Abyssinian, covering similar territory, observing and weighing the differences in cultures. Eisner reveals the hypocrisy inherent in the Crusades, the urgency of garnering honor from the defeat of Infidels on foreign soil, a balanced account of this great clash of civilizations and the extremes of fanaticism, eerily familiar in modern times. No participant is without stain and Francisco, an honorable man, is faced with the reality of conflict and the evils men perpetrate upon their enemies in the name of honor. The Crusader contains chivalry, swordplay, savagery, solidarity, honor, deceit, damaged souls and finally, hope and a return to forgiveness. Historically accurate and engrossing, The Crusader brings this bloody and tempestuous era to life. Luan Gaines/2005.

The jacket blurb refers to Michael Alexander Eisner's new novel, "The Crusader," as a "thinking man's swashbuckler." The OED defines this word as "Swaggering, blustering, ostentatiously daring" - characteristics that are nowhere apparent in the character of the protagonist of the novel. The book is more, and very different from this assessment; thinking women can apply, as well. The era of fin-de-treizieme-siecle Spain, with knights, castles, bishops, treachery, greed, assassination, indulgences, exorcisms, might seem to call for Sir Walter Scott, and seven hundred pages of text. "The Crusader" is less than half that length - leanly written - and derring-do is not the main event in the book. Neither are the Arabs, who are referred to only as "infidels" without profile or position.
What Eisner deals with, without being didactic, are the institutions of religion and rule, and their administration. He does not question items of faith and dogma, but - by illustration - calls into question behavior that runs the gamut from venal to murderous, with every possible stop in between. No character is without some taint, and some are so inflated by their station, so estranged from fellow-feeling that they inspire horror in the reader. Man's inhumanity to man is all over the 300-plus pages. Faith and belief should be at the core of a religious undertaking; instead, they are a convenient reason for horrendous activities that belie completely notions of brotherhood, humilty, and love. I didn't count, but I would guess that each of the seven deadly sins is amply illustrated on these pages, all in the name of rectitude and service to the Church.
It is clear that Eisner has done panoramic research, from clothing to food to principles of military training, to battle strategy (with very specific descriptions about boiling oil, garrotting, catapulting, and the like), not forgetting the rigors of long-distance travel - and this is a partial list. (At times, one had the feeling that facts and minutiae were stuffed into descriptions like apricots into a Christmas goose.) His writing style is clear, no-nonsense (it does seem that Eisner has never met an adjective that he doesn't like), and grammatically on target (how refreshing to read a new work that does not use "like" as a conjunction!); in fact, it has a kind of patina of having been translated from the original . . . what? Latin? I would deep-six the occasional incomplete sentences (usually descriptive) that occasionally crop up (mostly with a gerund as the verb, if there is one), and seem rather artificial.
The book resounds long after the finis, and who could ask for better? (Some of the echoing is on the front pages of the daily newspapers, of course.) I admire the non-sentimental ending, too. So, "The Crusader" not anywhere in the Errol Flynn column; it's much more, and entirely worthwhile.

This is a wonderful book. Once I started reading it, I was hooked. It is the story of a young crusader, Francisco de Montcada, who returns from the experience so shattered that he cannot speak. It is told through the mouth of a monk named Lucas, which adds an intriguing level of complexity and texture to the narrative, as Lucas has his own conflicts and his own agenda.

The Crusader works not only as an engaging story, but also as a meditation on the role of belief and the power of dialogue. This book would be a fantastic read any time, but it is particularly timely today: Francisco was one of the original crusaders against the unworthy "infidels" (back then Muslims in the Holy Land, today Americans). His leaders talked of glorious battles against unbelief, but he has his own complex reasons for fighting that have as much to do with his dead brother as with his religious convictions. The result is a richly drawn portrait of a young man caught up in an earlier movement that we might call fanatical.

The pacing is perfect, the plot is powerful, and the characters fascinating. All this, and it succeeds on a deeper level, too. This truly is the thinking person's adventure story.

"Historical errors and sloppy writing spoil the effect"

At first I was merely annoyed by what I felt was a gratuitous and overt anti-Christian bias running consistently through this book-let's see, we have a pederast and murdering abbot, the blatant sale of indulgences by the abbey prior, smug self-congratulations by the monk-narrator when he donates a ring to charity, and-gasp-crusaders actually going to fight for the love of battle and plunder rather than for the purity of their faith! Naturally these things happened, but is EVERY SINGLE monk, cleric and believer so corrupt? This book would certainly make you think so.

But truly, these insults to my intelligence annoyed me only at first. For once I began bumping up against the dozens of historical and factual errors peppering this book, I realized that someone who writes out of sheer ignorance insults only himself. As might be expected, religious-related errors are probably the most obvious kind in this book. I'm not saying that one needs to be Catholic to accurately write a novel based upon a central event of Catholic history, but the author might at least have enlisted the aid of someone knowledgeable of the subject matter to review his work before it went to print. That way he might not have so laughably confused the notions of "limbo" and "purgatory" (pp. 59 and 98); or taken for granted the hierarchical relationship between the diocesan bishop and the various religious orders (there is none). "Confessors," of course, can only be ordained priests, not mere "brothers," and a vow of silence in a Cistercian monastery means just that-monks do not engage in idle chit-chat with the local repairman during prayer time (p. 7).

Okay, so I come across as a religious crank. Not really-I'm actually a published historical novelist myself, and one who puts a great deal of effort into being historically accurate in my work. For that reason, I take offence at the author's slipshod references to corn and beans in Spain in the 13th century (pp. 53 and 69), when these crops were not discovered until the New World explorations two centuries later. The statement that the Spanish kings had driven the infidel from the Iberian Peninsula by 1270 (it didn't happen until 1492) rang sour like a broken bell. And then there are the other scenes-a Bible casually bandied about in a bedroom shared by two boys, when in those days books were so precious they were kept under lock and key in monasteries or palaces (p. 52); a character who on p. 22 is illiterate, yet on page 54 is skimming a Bible, in a foreign language, no less; and extended scenes of bitter winter, frozen lakes and paralyzing snowstorms in-Norway, Austria or Germany?-no, sunny Spain, of all places. I'm sure Barcelona gets a cold day now and then, but brutal, Ice Age-style winters? Not a chance. Hello, Mr. Editor-were you on vacation when this manuscript passed your desk?

You might note from my page citations that I haven't yet made it past page 100. Not sure if I will, either, and if I do, it will be purely for laughs-and in the hopes that I'll eventually run across a good battle scene or two. After all, that's what I bought the darn book for in the first place.

In this fresh, exuberant historical novel, Francisco is a troubled former knight who returns from the Crusades a broken man. Through the narration of Brother Lucas, the monk assigned to exorcise him, we learn of Francisco's travels to the Holy Land, the battles he fought in, the woman he loves, and the horrors he witnessed. I don't pretend to know a lot about history; I can't say if the historical aspects are "accurate" or not. This book does seem very well researched, though. No matter: the characters are interesting, the descriptions vivid, and the plot intricate and fast-paced. For all but the fanatical history buff, that should be enough to enjoy this gem of a novel.

At first I was merely annoyed by what I felt was a gratuitous and overt anti-Christian bias running consistently through this book-let's see, we have a pederast and murdering abbot, the blatant sale of indulgences by the abbey prior, smug self-congratulations by the monk-narrator when he donates a ring to charity, and-gasp-crusaders actually going to fight for the love of battle and plunder rather than for the purity of their faith! Naturally these things happened, but is EVERY SINGLE monk, cleric and believer so corrupt? This book would certainly make you think so.

But truly, these insults to my intelligence annoyed me only at first. For once I began bumping up against the dozens of historical and factual errors peppering this book, I realized that someone who writes out of sheer ignorance insults only himself. As might be expected, religious-related errors are probably the most obvious kind in this book. I'm not saying that one needs to be Catholic to accurately write a novel based upon a central event of Catholic history, but the author might at least have enlisted the aid of someone knowledgeable of the subject matter to review his work before it went to print. That way he might not have so laughably confused the notions of "limbo" and "purgatory" (pp. 59 and 98); or taken for granted the hierarchical relationship between the diocesan bishop and the various religious orders (there is none). "Confessors," of course, can only be ordained priests, not mere "brothers," and a vow of silence in a Cistercian monastery means just that-monks do not engage in idle chit-chat with the local repairman during prayer time (p. 7).

Okay, so I come across as a religious crank. Not really-I'm actually a published historical novelist myself, and one who puts a great deal of effort into being historically accurate in my work. For that reason, I take offence at the author's slipshod references to corn and beans in Spain in the 13th century (pp. 53 and 69), when these crops were not discovered until the New World explorations two centuries later. The statement that the Spanish kings had driven the infidel from the Iberian Peninsula by 1270 (it didn't happen until 1492) rang sour like a broken bell. And then there are the other scenes-a Bible casually bandied about in a bedroom shared by two boys, when in those days books were so precious they were kept under lock and key in monasteries or palaces (p. 52); a character who on p. 22 is illiterate, yet on page 54 is skimming a Bible, in a foreign language, no less; and extended scenes of bitter winter, frozen lakes and paralyzing snowstorms in-Norway, Austria or Germany?-no, sunny Spain, of all places. I'm sure Barcelona gets a cold day now and then, but brutal, Ice Age-style winters? Not a chance. Hello, Mr. Editor-were you on vacation when this manuscript passed your desk?

You might note from my page citations that I haven't yet made it past page 100. Not sure if I will, either, and if I do, it will be purely for laughs-and in the hopes that I'll eventually run across a good battle scene or two. After all, that's what I bought the darn book for in the first place.

As a scholar of the Middle Ages, I was very optimistic when someone recomended this book. A few chapters in, however, I realized that what lay ahead of me were pages of contrived musings. The author's style is basic. At times, he drifts off for paragraphs as if he realized that his book said nothing and was trying to pad the nonsense with superfluous thoughts. I will admit that the concept is interesting and that I finished this book in just a few days. However, I was shaking my head the entire time. There were no twists and turns, nothing that would make me want to pick up this novel again.

I would like to ask where the editor was when this book was being published? There are so many historical mistakes- I half expected Francisco to consult a watch or something ridiculous like that. Also, why didn't anyone try to reign in the author's droning? He is trying to be cerebral, but it's just not his style.

Some people will really enjoy this book. They are the same people who think the film version of The Prince of Tides is exactly like the Conroy novel or that D.H. Lawrence only wrote smutty books. And there's nothing wrong with people like that! But for fans of Umberto Eco (who Mr. Eisner evidently tries to emulate, although I doubt he ever finished one of his books), please skip this one. You will only end up frustrated.

Excellent book. Talented storytelling. Well balanced mix of chivalry and male comradery. Good use of historical sites.

Starts out kind of slow, but by the time the story moves to the Holy Land, it is excellent from there on out. Really enjoyed it.