Customer Reviews

Pope Joan

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"Pope Joan" or "Papissa Joanna" was originally written and published in 1886 by the Greek author Emmanuel Royidis. The book tells the story of Pope John VIII, the purported female Pope who ruled Christendom for a period of two years, five months and four days in the middle of the ninth century. "Pope Joan" is a comic masterpiece of irreverence towards the medieval Church and the accepted pieties of its revisionist historians. Indeed, insofar as Royidis continued to propagate the legend of Pope Joan, to claim that the work contained only "facts and events proved beyond discussion", the text itself ingeniously combines history and legend, as well as brilliant wit, to subvert claims of authority. As Lawrence Durrell notes in his Preface to his brilliant English translation and adaptation, "the authorities of the Orthodox Church were horrified by what seemed to them to be the impious irony of its author-and no less by the gallery of maggot-ridden church fathers which he described so lovingly." Not suprisingly, Royidis was excommunicated from the Orthodox Church and his book was banned in Greece.

The first three parts of "Pope Joan" tell the story of Joanna prior to her arrival in Rome, before she became an historical personage. Set in the ninth century, the narrative captures the European world in disarray after the death of Charlemagne, captures a time when civilization was tenuous and the Church provided one of the few viable social structures. It is this part of the narrative that is unambiguously fictional, the imagined story of Joanna's life in Germany and then in Greece. After her parents die, Joanna clandestinely enters a monastery where she meets the monk Frumentius and develops a romantic relationship with him. When her true sexual identity is surmised, Joanna and Frumentius flee one monastery and then another, eventually ending up in Greece. Joanna soon becomes tired of her romance and her intellectual brilliance attracts the attention of Church leaders throughout Greece. She leaves Frumentius and departs alone for Rome, where the legend, some say the history, of Pope Joan begins. She becomes a papal secretary renowned for her intellect and, when Pope Leo IV dies, she ascends to the papacy. Pope Joan becomes pregnant and dies after giving birth during a procession through the streets of Rome.

While the general outline of the narrative may seem only mildly interesting, the brilliant translation and prose of Lawrence Durrell, together with the biting, irreverent wit of Royidis, make "Pope Joan" an unsurpassed work of comic genius. A flavor for this wit and style can be found in a short passage describing what ensued after Pope Joan gave birth: "Great was the consternation when a premature infant was produced from among the voluminous folds of the papal vestments . . . Some hierarchs who were profoundly devoted to the Holy See sought to save the situation and change horror and disgust to amazement by crying out `A miracle! A miracle!' They bellowed loudly calling the faithful to kneel and worship. But in vain. Such a miracle was unheard of; and indeed would have been a singular contribution to the annals of Christian thaumaturgy which, while it borrowed many a prodigy from the pagans, had not yet reached the point where it could represent any male saint as pregnant and bringing forth a child."

While the apologist position has consistently denied the historicity of Pope Joan, there is at least some suggestion that the legend is indeed a fact. As Durrell suggests in his Preface, one telling point is that Platina includes a biography of Pope John VIII in his "Lives of the Popes". And no less an authority than The Catholic Encyclopedia states that Platina's "Lives of the Popes" is "a work of no small merit, for it is the first systematic handbook of papal history." Historical disputation aside, however, "Pope Joan" stands as a brilliant work of comic writing and masterful translation, a masterpiece of Royidis and Durrell.

I purchased this book at the same time that I purchased Donna Woolfolk Cross's book. For a long time I didn't read it, thinking it would be too dry and difficult, being a translation....nothing could be further than the truth. It is genuinely hysterical. Some Catholics probably would be offended at some of the characterizations of the priests and of life in the Middle Ages in general, but it is a book that shouldn't be taken too seriously, just enjoyed. As to whether or not Pope Joan existed or not - who knows? But I hope she did!

I enjoyed Cross's version of this story, especially the historical detours into the state of law and medicine in the Dark Ages. But, I'm glad I read it before I opened the Lawrence Durell/Emmanuel Royidis' version.

This is the funniest book I've read since Fried Green Tomatoes! It's a hilarious, irreverent, bawdy, sacreligious saga at the expense of every prudish, hypocritically pious notion ever spawned in Christian history. It's a scream! I wonder if my neighbors have been disturbed by my uncontrollable howling. As an example, there's the bit where Joan uses the leg bone (sacred relic) of a martyred saint which she and a group of monks are transporting, to fend off the overly-amorous monks during an episode of gluttenous over-indulgence!

This very literate debauchery is the work of a genius.

Forget the veracity of the events in question...this book is beautifully written, extremely thoughtful, provocative and quite humorous (which is why Mr. Durrell took the time and made the effort to translate it from the Greek) Lawrence Durrell is one of the greatest novelists of the 20th Century English language and he recognized this little book as the jewel that it is.

A while back I acquired copies of two books entitled Pope Joan, one translated from the Greek by Lawrence Durrell and one written by Donna Woolfolk Cross. Somehow they have languished for two years on my bookshelf (which ironically is the length of time the good lady was said to have occupied the Papal throne), but I have just finished reading them, not back to back but actually alternating the two so that I started and finished them both within the same period of time.

They were vastly different in both writing style and content- though there was a similar kernel within each.

The Durrell book, which is a battered and yellowed little paperback, was written in a style that took some adjustment to read. Flowery, cynical, jaded, and very funny once you got used to the effusive flow of words. Apparently the original author of this (in the Greek) was excommunicated for writing it.

The Cross book, is well researched, told in the type of historical fiction style more like some of the historical fiction I read as a teen that told the story with some embellishment and some romance, more in modern day parlance. The fact that I found the story a little too pat, is my own fault, not hers. Horrible father, long suffering mother, daughter who shines at everything and would have been the ideal child had she not had ovaries...But Cross's Joan always lands on her feet (well-- except for one time in the flood of the Tiber, when she seems to have landed on her back-- no more or there's a spoiler there.)

My dear friend who is a priest would be appalled that I might even consider it to be historically based. But who is to say? The 800's were a long time ago and historical information or sources from that time are sketchy.

This is one of the funniest books I have ever read. It is well crafted and expertly translated, the final product is rich, dense, and wonderfully funny writing that requires and rewards the full attention of the reader.

Don't read this book if you are looking for the history of Pope Joan, you won't find it here - this book is historical fiction, and Royidis weaves the myth - legend - facts - whatever about the story of a female pope into a satirical 9th century romp through Christendom, from England to Athens and finally to Rome. Royidis's backdrop is tribal Europe, Europe before modern science, where Christianity was just another form of supersitition having to compete with all sorts of paganism and witchery for the hearts and minds of the less than faithful.

Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular has always had a problem with human sexuality and female sexuality in particular, and Royidis uses the story of Joan to poke all sorts of fun and ribaldry at Catholicism and Christianity - and unctuous hypocritical Catholic and Christian leaders. It is almost like shooting fish in a barrel, but Royidis manages to do it imaginatively each and every time. His observations of the 9th century from the 19th century resonate well here in the 21st, it seems we are as slave to superstition and hypocrisy as our forebearers were.

This is a fun to read, funny book, about a bellylaugh per page. I recommend highly!

For many centuries, the tale of the 9th century Pope, John VIII, who was secretly a woman has been passed by word-of-mouth throughout Western Europe's common classes, secretly whispered about by its aristocracy, and derisively discussed in the Catholic Church's hierarchy with contempt and ridicule.

The historical facts are these: in the middle of the 9th century, a young woman, Johanna Jutta Gilberta, dressed as a man to be able to enter the classical education schools open only to aristocratic males in Mainz, Germany. Her reputation as an impeccable scholar soon earned her an invitation to study at the foremost school of learning in Athens, where she travelled with her male, secret lover.

Once there, she established a standard of excellence in learning that was the talk throughout Greece. She began lecturing and her classes became so popular that several royal, Italian families began sending their sons to be educated at the Athenium by her. Calling herself "John Anglicus", due to a lengthy stay studying at a monastery in England before arriving in Athens, she received offers from several Roman families to relocate and set up a school in Rome.

Accepting the generous offers and accomodation provided, Johanna made a name for herself as the foremost scholar in the Western world. When the papacy became vacant from the death of Leo IV in 855, it was offered to "Joannes Anglicus". She hesitated solemnly but eventually had to accept.

Ruling for 2 years, she became pregnant and in a procession went into labor. The child and act of birth was seen by the attending Cardinals as an act of Satan. Her and the child died on the spot and a marker stood for centuries, symbolized by a woman draped in the papal cloth with a child in her arms. Even the reformist, Martin Luther, mentions in his "Table Talk" that he had seen the very same monument and was dumbfounded how the Church could be so blind to allow it to remain after so many years. The new edition (August 1997) just released of Emmanuel Royadis' book contains a surmised account of how such a preposterous event could have ever happened. By the end of the tale, you will not think it so impossible. Written in the style of a play, Royadis fills in known historical fact with a painter's eye for background and visually detailed scenes. The introduction by one of the English language's foremost artist of words, Lawrence Durrell ("The Alexandria Quartet"), alone makes the book worth reading.

While the tale of "Pope Joan" has been one of the longest and most enduring stories ever to be passed on from one century to the next, it is practically unknown in North America and when brought up, vehemently denied. Thus, be prepared for wide-opened eyes when you relate this tale to someone else. A book about a "Woman For All Seasons".

Johanna Jutta Gilberta Anglicus, known as Pope John VIII, ruled from 855 to 857 for 2 years, 5 months and 4 days. May she rest in peace.

The use of language is brilliant, the comedy is very dry and very hilarious, and the story is incredible. It's not the type of humor you'd expect about a female pope. It's written in a way that is completely irreverent about religion, gender, and class, is both obscene and grotesque, yet the humor comes from the fact that all these elements are essential to the story. It's like South Park versus Family Guy, where the former derives its humor mainly from the story whereas the latter relies mostly on random tangents for shocks and laughs. The language is so lofty and poetic, yet delivers deep belly laughs. It's for people who love the intricacies of how euphemisms and implication can comment on a situation while describing it. That and it's only about 150 pages, so it's a quick read. All in all, I couldn't put it down, recommend it every chance I get, and hope that this book doesn't get lost over the years.

I probably first heard of the legend of the female pope while attending my Catholic high school, it being the kind of quasi-scandalous story that Catholic school students love to irritate their teachers with. I'm generally disinclined to believe the legend however, since there hardly seems to be any historical evidence to support it. That said, the legend, as set forth in this book, is a marvelous satire of the Church and its practices during that dark period following the fall of the Roman Empire. The rampant corruption of the clergy and the obsession of the church leadership with secular power and privilege provides ample fodder for this story, which merely extrapolates these weaknesses to one extreme. The historical failings of the Church and its leadership should serve as a cautionary lesson to those modern leaders of the Church who seem to have forgotten that they are also subject to human fallibility, and that humility should be the defining characteristic of their leadership.

While the satirical content of this book is entertaining and enlightening, I found the prose to be far to embellished for my taste. The frequent asides and tangential diversions from the core story were distracting. I often found my attention wandering and sometimes I found it easier to just skip ahead to where the author returned to the main story line. Much of this extraneous material felt like padding, even in this rather slim (150 pages) volume.

Supposedly a novel, this very dated tome is neither fish nor fowl. It can't seem to decide what it wants to be. A story or a lecture? Serious historical fiction, or a platform for a broad satirical attack on the Catholic Church? If the latter, then be warned: most readers won't find it very funny. Humor ages fast. What's amusing in one era is a great big yawn in another.

There's no plot in any modern sense of the word. Joan wanders, picaresque fashion, from one implausible adventure to another, with tedious predictability. Every ten pages or so I had to fight the temptation to put it down, for the story keeps lagging, occasionally coming to a dead halt to allow the author to launch yet another boring and repetitive diatribe against the Church.

There's no character development or subtlety. Joan is a difficult character to like, for she seems to have little motivation except an undiscriminating sexuality, which exists primarily as a device to launch her into strained and silly encounters with prelates. The prose is excruciatingly awkward, probably because 1. it was written 150 years ago, and 2. it's been translated from the Greek. For proof of this, just read the passage quoted by one of the Spotlight reviewers above (who cites it to prove that the writing is wonderful!): "Such a miracle was unheard of; and indeed would have been a singular contribution to the annals of Christian thaumaturgy which, while it borrowed many a prodigy from the pagans, had not yet reached the point where..." etc. etc. Shakespeare, this isn't. Nor is it Joyce Carol Oates or Sue Monk or Frank McCourt or any other modern writer with a feel for the beauty and the power of the English language.

If you're looking for a non-fiction book about Pope Joan that discusses the historical evidence for her existence, then get the books by Peter Stanford (pro-Joan) or Alain Bourreau (anti-Joan). If you're looking for an exciting and well-written read based on the actual historical record, then get the novel by Donna Woolfolk Cross. Avoid this ROYIDIS/DURRELL book at all costs, for it's neither one nor the other.