Customer Reviews

An Instance of the Fingerpost

5 star:		(195)
4 star:		(67)
3 star:		(44)
2 star:		(19)
1 star:		(25)

 

 

This is a long (680 pgs in my paperback edition--bought from A.c, by the way) historical novel set in reformation England-mostly Oxford. The story comprises four distinct memoirs-seemingly written in about 1680-that recall events during 1663. The characters are mostly historical figures-actually two of the narrators are fictitous, two are genuine, while secondary characters include Robert Boyle, James Locke, and other lesser know figures of the restoration. Pears' historical knowledge seems formidable and the reader can look forward to learning much about this era. Most impressive to me was the great authenticity of the narrative voices and the almost flawless resolution of an intricate story line.

This is a mystery, much in the tradition of "The Name of the Rose," but with a deep bow to "Roshamon." For the story to work, each of the narrators has to come across as a genuine character of the 17th century. Pears accomplishes this by skillfully blending the style and syntax of the era with contemporaneous prejudices and ignorance. Every once in a while you can hear the style relapse to modern-speak for a bit, but Pears gets so much right that it's hard to quibble. The characters profess belief in magic and archaic medical theory with casual conviction. They are mired in-to modern ears-an appallingly oppressive attitude toward women and "common" people. At the same time, these are the leading scientists and philosophers of their time; hearing them you get the strong sense that their society is beginning to break free and move toward genuine science and egalitarian politics. It is a remarkable achievement for a novel-all the more so because it is also a gripping thriller.

What the memoirs are trying to explain are the events surrounding the death by poisoning of an Oxford don, Robert Grove and the subsequent execution of a young serving woman, Sarah Blundy, who is convicted of the murder. The first narrator identifies himself as Marco da Cola, a Venetian student of medicine who gets stuck in Oxford due to complications with his family's business. Although da Cola becomes convinced of Sarah's guilt, the reader develops great sympathy for her. Pears draws Sarah as a combination of a Christian mystic and a proto-feminist. This works for the plot and to make her an appealing character. But the combination of religious fervor and sexual freedom she proclaims is one note that does seem a bit too modern-perhaps one grows to love her because of this very whiff of modernity. Each narrator that follows retells the story with differing interpretations of the facts and with addition of separate layers of motivation. Be warned that the next two narrators espouse attitudes that are very hard to stomach-despite their great self-satisfaction. Contradictions and complexities accumulate until the mystery seems utterly insoluble. Then at the end, by some alchemy of literary skill, Pears manages to explain everything in the last few pages. A word of advice: even though this is a long read, do not succumb to the temptation of skipping ahead.

One minor frustration-the significance of the very odd title is embedded in the front-pages to one of the sections (the fourth, I think) and is easily missed. Turns out, it's a quote from Bacon describing a piece of compelling evidence that trumps all prejudices. Fingerpost indeed is what it takes to sort the whole thing out.

The parallels with Ecco's "The Name of the Rose" are very striking. A cloistered male setting (academic rather than ecclesiastic), a poisoning, an innocent female brutally prosecuted, a preoccupation with texts-including a purloined book that is the key to a cipher that is a major key to the plot, etc. There are surely more-including some that can not be revealed without spoiling the suspense. To me, Fingerpost compares quite favorably with Rose. I liked Rose very much, but ultimately it seemed that Ecco was more concerned with philosophy and semionics-whatever that is-than with character and story. The chase through the library maze and the cataclysmic fire at the end of Rose pushed the whole book over the edge of melodrama, in my opinion. Pears is more restrained in burdening his story with symbolism-though there is an obvious touch of semionics in the experiment with the dove in the vacuum chamber-watch for it early in da Cola's narrative.

By staying focused on the fully imagined people of the day, their authentic history, and in the mechanisms of a wonderfully realized plot, Pears writes a very satisfying and moving book. He solves the mystery of the Fingerpost, but he leaves you to ponder more profound and lasting mysteries. Somehow, the course of history has moved from the deep ignorance, tragedies, and injustice of that long-ago time to a perhaps more enlightened era. But just as certainly, many of the beliefs and practices we take for granted today will seem primitive and cruel 300 years hence. Just which beliefs are they?

Warning: This is not a pick it up and finish it in a day kind of book. No matter how many historical mysteries you read you will not be able to get through this book in a day, or even several days.

That being said, it is one of the most rewarding mysteries you are likely to read. Pears's incredibly detailed depiction of Oxford in the late seventeenth century bristles with life, lust, and treachery. First through the eyes of a wandering Italian Marco da Cola, and then through the eyes of other major figures like John Wallis and Anthony Wood, we are introduced to the strange events surrounding an even stranger person: Sarah Blundy. The history of science and medicine is very accurate and very well-treated (not always the same thing!), especially in the sections on Wallis and Wood. The pace of the book does pick up the deeper we get into the twisting paths of Oxford life and legend, but I don't think that makes the first two accounts any less riveting. Instead, it brings home how different people see the same events, and makes us evaluate more critically every "fact" we think we know.

This would be a great book to take on a one-week vacation, since it will probably get you through the whole thing without having to take 6 books with you. If you like historical mysteries or historical fiction, or even the history of medicine, I highly recommend this book to you.

PS. The ending knocks you off your feet. Totally unexpected!

I'm not sure I agree with the similarity between this book and Umberto Eco's Name of the Rose, nor do I wish to see Pears' originality diminished by constant comparison with this great work. This book can stand on its own merits quite nicely. The storytelling is fabulous and the twists and turns of the plot always manage to be perfectly believable yet totally unexpected.

The book is complex, and I must thank Mr. Pears for including the Dramatis Personae section at the end. Besides helping the reader sort through the host of characters, it also sets the record straight on which ones are real, fictional, or some combination. Among the historical celebrities who people the novel are Robert Boyle, John Locke, and Christopher Wren, making this book a great lesson in the history of scientific thought and politics in the middle ages.

The crowning glory of the novel is the apparent ease with which Mr. Pears allows us to see the world through the eyes of the four narrators. (In this respect I found myself thinking of Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury.) Not only are we shown different perspectives on the events, but the "facts" of the events themselves become as fluid as the writer's prose.

In addition to echoing the words of praise written by other reviewers, I implore you to heed a few words of advice:

1. DO NOT read too many reviews here! There are big spoilers below that will ruin your own experience of this novel. Once you're convinced to read this book, skip the rest of these reviews and come back when you're done!

2. Read a summary of the historical background of this period in English history and be ready to refer to it often. An encyclopedia would be handy for background on some of the historical figures.

3. Don't be in a rush. You'll be reading this for the first time only once; savor the details as you go.

4. I agree with an earlier reviewer: take notes. The book is simply too long and complex to keep everything straight in your head. Familiar names reappear in the story, events resurface, and a few notes about the characters and plot will help jog your memory. In this respect the novel reminds me greatly of Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. You'll miss a lot if you just plow through at top speed.

Does all this sound like a lot to ask? It may be for some readers. But some of the best things in life require a little effort.

While asserting the value of religion in the face of science in "The Big Picture: what the religions of the world teach us about the nature of ultimate reality", Huston Smith, well-known scholar of comparative religion, decries the way the term "mystery" has been pressed into the service of the literary genre of "whodunnits". I suspect Smith has not come across Pears' "Instance".

Unlike other reviewers, I thought the insertion of divine mystery back into secular mystery made this book a powerful read. (Although I admit the secular mystery had me hooked and kept me reading to see whether the falsely accused would be vindicated - a "who-really-dunnit".)

I can see how those who continue past the first section primarily to discover "who dunnit" might find little reward after much tedium, and find the last hundred pages a bewildering "aberration". If however, you sit back and watch an investigation into the nature of "truth", you can immerse yourself in a turbulent time when competing worldviews arose in response to the dissolution of an old social order.

Read "Instance" as a murder mystery if you like, or read its first narrative as illustrative of empiricism, the second as illustrative of superstition, the third of reason and the fourth of mysticism, and observe how each constructs its worldview.

This foray into history also offers hope for the future. The union of spirituality and humanism could be just the ticket for today's disillusionment with socialism and capitalism. Pears' willingness to fingerpost the idea that the most clear-sighted are those who allow love to triumph over prejudice (in other words, Love points to Truth) satisfied this reader's desire for revealed mystery.

First, a promise: you won't read any spoilers in this review. Pears has written a thoroughly convincing historical mystery that kept me guessing until the very satisfying climax; the equally perplexing mystery is why so many readers feel they must spoil the fun. (And, in spite of the small minority who thought otherwise, I found the book thrilling to read--I could hardly put it down.)

Pears recreates England after the death of Oliver Cromwell, during the reign of Charles II: he faithfully reproduces its political intrigues, philosophical disputes, and social milieu. Most of the characters were actual celebrities at the time (John Locke, Robert Boyle, Christopher Wren), the few fictional creations are based on historical figures, and many of the events important both to the plot and to the atmosphere actually occurred. Most impressively, Pears manages to fit his mystery (or mysteries, since there are several unsolved-to-the-very-end threads) within the actual achievements or fiascos, the rise or decline of each of the historical figures he portrays.

Like the four gospels they (purposefully) mirror, the novel is told in four parts, and Pears's style serves him well. Each section is narrated in turn by an Italian dilettante, a disenfranchised young man, a boorish xenophobe, and a reclusive bookworm--in other words, a representative cross-section of the inhabitants of Oxford--and the unique characters shine through the prose. True to the formula for this type of mystery, each character's story has important omissions and evasions about his own role but tells what he believes is the complete truth about everyone else. There are few false notes in this novel's rich, complicated plot, and even those can be explained by the narrow agendas of the four leading characters. Pears rewards attentive readers not only with a spellbinding yarn but also with a witty lesson in history and philosophy.

I'm not a mystery devotee, nor do I have the patience (or available personal time) to read very many 700 page novels. About every 3 or 4 years though, I find an exception and this (like Umberto Eco's best work) was one of the strongest. At the end of this very cleverly drawn book, I was longing for more, including more information beyond the dramatis personae entries on the main and secondary characters. Before reading Pears, I had some general familiarity with the unfortunate period of the Commonwealth and the fresh air of the Restoration, but his work put some very real flesh and blood to both periods. As such, I've been reading little else since I finished Fingerpost. For me, this ability to awaken, or even create, a new subject of intellectual curiosity is one of the rarest, and therefore most valuable, talents an author can hone. Pears does this masterfully through his movement from one narrator to the next, each of whom reveals truths about his predecessors which they concealed or ignored. I would recommend this to any thinking reader, perhaps with the caveat that some patience may be needed initially, as Pears doesn't insult the reader's intelligence by uncovering the plot catch (or catches) right away. I guarantee that such patience will be rewarded many times over.

One of the other customer reviewers of this book complained that the murder was solved summarily a hundred pages before the end and wondered if critics who call this a classic had skimmed the end to meet review deadlines. Such comments make me wonder if that reviewer did not, like so many of the characters in this book, miss the fingerposts.
For this book is not primarily a story about the solving of a murder. The murder itself serves more as plot device to bring the four narrators (and others) together in a certain time and place, allowing them to interact with each other and present their widely diverging views of events, actions, and consequences. Indeed, for three of the four narrators the murder is almost incidental to their narratives, only two of them are actually concerned (or even desirous) that justice be done, and none of them is especially sorrowful about the death of the murder victim. Rather, for each of them the murder is really only significant for the part it plays in their own narrative and what they believe it indicates in terms of their interpretation of events. The driving idea behind the novel is not the solution of a murder, but how different people can see the same facts, or parts thereof, and draw differing conclusions - particularly when those conclusions serve to reinforce preconceived notions; and the more some people believe in the rightness of their preconceptions, the more willing they become to pervert truth to suit their ends.
This extraordinary novel is really a masterpiece of crafting. The use of the first-person narrative allows each narrator to present a depiction of himself (and his motives) very different from the way others see him, which has the effect of causing the reader to rethink and re-examine opinions formed along the way. In particular, the chilling, almost unwitting portrayal by two of the narrators of their own destructive, delusive obsessions is worthy of Patricia Highsmith at her best. "An Instance of the Fingerpost" is by turns amusing, infuriating, puzzling, informative, and even heartbreaking. It also goes a long way toward evoking the uncertainty, chaos and duplicity of the era (so very different from today's era of open and transparent government).
I should say that although I enjoy a good, intriguing mystery, I'm not particularly a fan of the "mystery" genre; I'm more partial to books that provoke reflection on the human condition. This is one of a very few books I've bought based on the recommendation, and I can honestly state that I was totally unprepared for the level of quality I found in it. I can think of few works of fiction that have moved me quite as much as this one.
As some schools of thought insist that every critique must perforce call attention to shortcomings, I suppose I should include a few for form's sake. I could mention a couple of niggling instances of grammatical lapse by men purportedly of education, such as the use of the objective pronoun in a comparison (i.e. "older than me"); for some reason this error always grates on my nerves (although it seems to be almost a prerequisite for translators), but the occurrences were far too few to impact my overall opinion. The only real complaints I can muster are two: first, that this book deprived me of much sleep during the time I took to read it; and second, that it left me at a loss as to what to read next.

An Instance of the Fingerpost is an almost thoroughly engrossing mystery set in Restoration England and revolving around the murder of Dr. Robert Grove, fellow of the New College at Oxford. What sets this novel apart from other period portraits is Pears' use of four different, yet very convincing narratives, each designed to reveal the "truth" of the murder of Dr. Grove. The novel begins with the narrative of Marco da Cola, a gentleman scholar from Venice. While da Cola argues that he only wishes to set down a true record of the events that took place in 1663, his record actually poses more questions that it answers. It is the next three narrators who attempt to answer and refute da Cola's narrative with one of their own. As we read, we come to realize that while each of Pears' four narrators is sure that he and he alone possesses all the facts necessary to name Grove's murderer, all but one has reached his conclusions through faulty logic born of a false premise. And, while all of Pears' narrators practice many decptions, we soon realize that no deception recurs more frequently than does self-deception. It is Marco da Cola's investigation, with Dr. Lower, that ultimately results in the conviction and hanging of the serving girl, Sarah Blundy, who was recently dismissed by Grove after having been alleged to have been his mistress. At the conclusion of da Cola's tale, we feel there can be no doubt about Sarah--or her culpability. Jack Prescott, however, sees things quite differently. While he denounces Sarah as both a wench and a witch, he also denounces da Cola as an extravagant and gaudy dandy. And, although it is Prescott himself, who gives da Cola the piece of evidence that seals Sarah's fate, Prescott staunchly defends her innocence. Wallis, the third narrator sees things and people in yet another light and Anthony Wood, the last of the four narrators, who has been Sarah's secret lover, not only provides the "instance of the fingerpost," but also reveals an astonishing secret, one that will finally bring together the hidden motives of the previous narrators and make clear all the clues that have been hidden in plain sight. Pears does a marvelous job of weaving fact with fantasy and his eye for period detail never falters. And, while da Cola's narrative begins slowly, the pace does pick up somewhere around page 100. Although the book is ultimately worth the wait, no reader should have to wade throuh 100 pages of lacklustre material just to get to the "good part." Although Pears does a wonderful job of weaving the intricacies of the narrative and layering one mystery on top of another, the story as a whole lacks tension. Even though I wanted to know the "truth of the matter," I kept falling asleep while reading due to this lack of story tension. Prescott's narrative, for example, focuses more on the politics of the times than on the story of Grove's murder and the hanging of Sarah Blundy. I think comparisons of this book with Unberto Eco's The Name of the Rose are unfair. Other than the fact that both books deal with the search for ultimate truth as a theme, everything else is different, such as characterization, pacing and structure. And The Name of the Rose is much more atmospheric that is An Instance of the Fingerpost. But An Instance of the Fingerpost, while laboriously slow at times, ultimately succeeds, and the reader is left with a profound sense of both satisfaction and awe.

"An Instance of the Fingerpost" does so many things right, it's hard to know where to begin. First and foremost, I guess, is that unlike most modern mysteries, the reader actually remains in suspense for much of the book. Which leads my second point, the remarkable way in which the book is written. Rather than one long narrative, the reader is provided with four, each from a different point of view, and each approaching the central mystery from a different point. As a result the reader is introduced to many plot threads that seem significant, only to have them snipped off later in the novel.

Furthermore, Pears does a superb job of capturing the spirit of the time. His use of the English language is impeccable, as the dialogue possesses a distinct 17th Century feel. More impressive, however, is his ability to write an engaging novel, using real people as characters, without disrupting the actual timeline of events. Of course the central story is fictional, but it operates seamlessly within historical fact.

"An Instance of the Fingerpost" is not just an excellent mystery, it is an excellent work of literature as well. The characters are incredibly well drawn and grapple with their consciences to a remarkable degree. It is undoubtedly a novel that leaves the reader thinking about right and wrong, and about how they might have acted in similar circumstances.

In conclusions I offer two warnings. First, read this book in the shortest time you can; the longer it takes you to read it, the more likely you are to forget key points from the various narratives. Second, since the story is presented in four parts, the novel starts out a little slow. Stick with it, though, and you won't be disappointed.