Customer Reviews

Shroud for the Archbishop: A Sister Fidelma Mystery (Sister Fidelma Mysteries)

5 star:		(2)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

I am becoming enamored of Sister Fidelma. In "Shroud for the Archbishop," Tremayne offers a picture of Rome at a moment when decisions were being made that continue to resonate today. The power struggle of the time often centered on whether the Celtic or the Roman tradition would dominate the church in the emerging revived Europe. Perhaps the lukewarm reception this book has received from other reviewers indicates of how far away and irrelevant those issues seem to many of us.

The book's title refers to the murder of the Saxon Archbishop-designate of Canterbury and the immediate suspicion that an Irishman was the culprit. The Romans justifiably fear that this could cause a war between the two peoples. Fortunately, Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf, her erstwhile Saxon companion, are at-hand to solve the mystery, and thereby to prevent a war. In the end, then as now, things can be covered up by the powers that be.

On the cover of the paperback edition, the reader is promised "A Mystery of Ancient Ireland." In fact, this book is set completely in seventh-century Rome. Tremayne's particular accomplishment here is to shed some light on the ins and outs of that place and that time. The plot, despite all of its twists and turns, is not nearly as compelling as the skill and deftness Tremayne draws upon to make the reader enter Rome of the dark ages.

Tremayne's bias towards the Celtic sensibility pervades his telling of the story, to the point that I was put off a bit. However, Tremayne mostly succeeds in his didactic intent, and the reader cannot help but wonder what might have happened had the Celts prevailed in their disputes with Rome.

Sister Fidelma is an admirable spokeperson for the Celtic view, a well-drawn and complex protagonist with recognizable strengths and weaknesses. Tremanyne seems to reach a bit when he paints her as some sort of proto-feminist, but the historical evidence supports his contention that women were full participants in Celtic society and in the early Celtic church. Episcopalians will find it interesting to note that women were said to be allowed to celebrate mass until Rome stopped the practice. There is even some scholarly debate as to whether Patrick himself ordained a female bishop.

At the time, relationships among the religious below the rank of Bishop were discouraged, but not prohibited. The possibility of romance adds a touch of humanity to the relationship between Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf. Tremayne hints at some reason in Sister Fidelma's past that prevents her from having a closer relationship with Brother Eadulf, but the author never enlightens us further. Many other members of the church appear as flesh-and-blood people who share our passions and perversions.

Overall, "Shroud for the Archbishop" is a solid mystery, not too challenging yet enlightening. Whatever the text lacks in verisimilitude or accuracy, it makes up for by painting an interesting picture of Rome in those long-forgotten times. I plan to read the whole series.

Mmm, no. I enjoy history-albeit mostly ancient history-and I enjoy murder mysteries. I even enjoy historic murder mysteries, but although I feel that the character of Sister Fidelma has much potential, I think the author has missed the mark by a wide margin. I had selected the Shroud for the Archbishop because it had been recommended to me by another murder mystery afficionado whose other suggestions had been dead on. This one was a disappointment.

Peter Tremayne is the nom de plume of the Celtic scholar and author Peter Berresford Ellis. He has a BA and MA in Celtic studies and is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland and a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society. He has primarily pursued a career as a journalist, becoming a full time writer in 1975 and producing popular works on Celtic literature and history and fictional works like the Sister Fidelma series.

Although Mr. Tremayne's characters flirt with the reader, they do not seem to entirely captivate. One has the definite sense that they could be so much more than they are, especially Fidelma. The settings really should be interesting-I've been to Rome, and I've studied Roman history-but somehow they become merely a catalogue of physical characteristics rather than an ambiance. At times I felt like a reluctant tourist being dragged on a walk about of Rome by the overly enthusiastic tour guide Brother Eadulf. The author spends so much time bogging this character down in historic recitations that the tale of the murdered archbishop designate, Wighard of Canterbury, becomes lost in the author's attempt to educate the reader. How much more smoothly, subtly and painlessly is this type of historical information introduced by Ellis Peters in her Brother Cadfael series or by Candace Robb in her Owen Archer mysteries. Even Timeline by Michael Crichton introduces historical data without losing the reader. In each of these cases, the STORY is the most critical facet of the book. Historical details are added to enhance and advance the story. While they definitely educate, their primary purpose is to create a setting in which the characters live and act.

Although I haven't yet read them, I think I'd probably prefer Mr. Tremayne's expository works, A Brief History of the Druids and Erin's Blood Royal: The Gaelic Noble Dynasties of Ireland. I will probably read both. I'll give another of his other Sister Fidelma stories a try, but if this is truly his preferred style of writing fiction, I don't think I'll enjoy a second mystery any more than I did the Shroud for the Archbishop.

Stick to the story Mr. Tremayne.

As someone who enjoyed immensely Ellis Peters' (aka Edith Pargeter's) elegant, sensitive, and moving Brother Cadfael mysteries, and who is fascinated with the interaction of Irish and Anglo-Saxon cultures in early medieval England, I finally decided to give Sister Fidelma a try. After reading Absolution by Murder, I ordered Shroud for the Archbishop. Reluctantly, I'm forced to conclude that these books deserve no more than a "2." On the positive side, the author is a historian, and it shows--but too much. As other reviewers have noted, he can't resist cramming every bit of his knowledge into the plot, at the expense of both plot and character. There are three other big problems. One is the main character herself. Unless you're really fond of people who are absolutely convinced of their own moral superiority and of their culture's superiority to all others, and who can't stop lecturing everyone in sight about their inferiority, you may find Fidelma a bit offputting. Maybe over the long haul of the series her humanity eventually shows through, but not in books 1 and 2. The second problem is that the author is as biased as his heroine, and seldom acknowledges anything positive in the motives, actions, or culture of the Anglo-Saxons or Romans. He exaggerates every point of cultural difference as well as the conflict between the Irish and Anglo-Saxons over 8th-century Christian practices, conveniently forgetting that both peoples were originally evangelized by Rome, looked to Rome for guidance, and resolved their disagreements peacefully. He also ignores the considerable cultural interplay that produced treasures such as the Lindisfarne Gospels, which are neither "Celtic" nor "Anglo-Saxon," but something new: Hiberno-Saxon. The only character other than Fidelma whom he presents sympathetically is Brother Eadulf, an Anglo-Saxon, whose chief virtues seem to be that he studied a long time in Ireland and is willing to put up with Fidelma. Finally, the writing needs a good, strong editorial hand. The most annoying example to me is the author's use of "shrug" and "grimace" on every other page. My favorite is "grimaced indifferently" (a sort of grimace-shrug?). I'm afraid "grimace" and "shrug" pretty much sum up my reaction to these books.

The trouble with this, as with the other Sister Fidelma books I have read, is that the author, while providing what appears to be a solid historical base for his work, makes numerous mistakes and skews the facts to support his own thesis, i.e., that the Celtic church was purer and more just than the Roman church. Actually neither was better than the other, they were simply different, in the same way that the Roman and Eastern churches were and are different. Further, I find very little evidence of the quiet, scholarly,nature-oriented monasticism reflected in the poetry and art of Irish monasticism nor of the true nature of such monastic cities as Clonmacnoise and Kildare itself nor of the fierce, confrontational and exploratory monasticism of Columcille, of Brendan or of the monks who established their monastery on the bare and terrifying Skellig Michael or certainly not those who undertook exile from Ireland to spread the Gospel among the barbarian invaders and founded such Continental monasteries as St. Gall in Switzerland or Bobbio in Italy.

Much is made also of the difference in position of women in Ireland and in the Romanized world. These differences, while real, are not reflections of the differences between their differing churches. Rather, they were part of the inheritance from the pre-Christian era of both cultures. Neither the semi-mythic Maeve nor the historical Boadicia could ever have existed in the Roman world. Christianity greatly raised the position of women in the Roman world, though not perhaps to the level achieved by Celtic women in either pre-Christian or Christian Ireland. Indeed, in traditional Irish culture, even today, there remain vestiges of the old status of women that differ from that in America, England or the Continent of Europe.

It concerns me as an Irishwoman that people who read these books will come away from them with a false image of the issues, history and milieu of this important formative era in European history. Add to this a priggish, short-tempered and arrogant heroine and you have a very disappointing mix. What is sad is that it could have been so much better.

Sister Fidelma is an Irish nun who very intelligently solves mysteries. The background for this mystery is Rome, and there is some confustion. According to "The Antiphonary of Bangor," "The Lorrha-Stowe Missal" (also known as the Gospel of St. Maelruain), the Rule of St. Columba, and the Rule of St. Maelruain, Sister Fidelma would be singing Matins nightly as an all-night vigil from about midnight to dawn. The fact that she sleeps so much, and follows a much later Roman custom and rule is surprising. She says that the Irish cannot absolve a man for murder, when the Rules state that Absolution is only forbidden in certain crimes such as incest, beastiality, or sex with the dead. Furthermore, at a time when meditation is commonly practiced, along with teaching the classics of the entire world, there is mention of suppression of certain meditation practices. So, this is an historical novel that has some reality to it, but not in the realm of the religious habits of Ireland. The fact that Sister Fidelma is knowledgable about Brehon law is very reasonable, as women could receive an education and also be employed in Ireland. It is also accurate that Sister Fidelma would have expected no servant, as Roman Bishops who visited Ireland could find themselves cleaning stables to fulfill their obligation as monks first, especially if they tried to throw their weight around. Sister Fidelma, to be believable as a nun, should be stopping about every three hours in modern time to sing a few Psalms. At noon she would not be saying an "Angelus" but "May God have mercy on us, and bless us: may He cause the light of His countenance to shine upon us; and may He have mercy on us..." and also "O God, come to my assistance: O Lord, make haste to help me..." and "I have believed, therefore have I spoken: but I have been humbled exceedingly," interspersed with the Antiphon, "Cause the Light of Thy Countenance to shine upon us, O Lord and have mercy on us." (The daytime Hours are recorded in "The Navagatio" of St. Brendan of Clonfert, also known as "The Navigator.") This distinction is important, because Sister Fidelma would have considered herself a nun first, and secondly an interpreter of Brehon law, and thirdly an investigator of crimes. This distinction is also important because the rhythm of the day would have been different, and also the plot would have been very very different. There is a fourth crime which cannot be absolved in old Irish monastic law, and that is for anybody to reveal what is said to them in a Confession. This is a key to this story, and yet Sister Fidelma is more shocked by the murders than by the revelation of a Confession. Back then, the murders would have been considered a much lesser crime.

If you are a fan of Ellis Peters work, prepare to be disappointed. If you want to read a really good medieval mystery, prepare to be disappointed. If the choices are reading this or People magazine, pick this up. While better than some others I've read, the ending is so contrived as to be ridiculous. I won't give it away but suffice it to say that it relies on a Deux et Machina twist so hamhanded that it made me regret wading through till the end.

Oh, and I agree with those who call Sister Fidelma a self-righteous prig. She certainly is one.

I really tried to give this book three stars, but just couldn't do it. This is the second book in the Sister Fidelma series, and I have to say that I still don't really empathize with the good Sister. She is way too pedantic, and bossy, and although I'm not sure about a woman's place in her world in Celtic Ireland, I can't think that they would have acted the way this woman acts. This series is like Kinsey Mulhone without the frequent stops to McDonald's. Tremayne tries to make Fidelma a hard-bitten private eye, but it doesn't seem to work because of the historical setting. When I finished the book I felt unsatisfied. Actually the mystery isn't too bad in this book, but the form of writing and the history are woefully inadequate. I said that I'd read one more of the series after I read the first book, and then decide. I think the jury is still out, so I think I'll try one more before I decide to scrap the rest. If you're looking for a good medieval mystery with a wonderful story, and you've finished all of Ellis Peters' books, try Susanna Gregory. There are seven books in the Matthew Bartholomew series, although Amazon only lists about two or three. It's a wonderful series with a great sense of period.

Shroud for the Archbishop is a successful second volume in the Sister Fidelma series. The very detailed descriptions of Rome in the seventh century Dark Ages provide a good background to an interesting puzzle that is solved by a well-matched pair of sleuths. However, this second book and therefore the series labor under two disadvantages. (1) A lot of background social and historical information is repeated from the first volume, so smoother narrative for readers of an earlier volume is traded for accessibility to new readers. (2) Characterization falters because the role of Brother Eadulf of Canterbury is weakened. In this second volume, he is much more a Watson-like foil to Sister Fidelma and a less acute personage in his own right. Patronizing replaces parity. For me at least, that reduces the dramatic interest of the story.

Still and all, Shroud for the Archbishop was pretty good and future volumes in the series are worth taking a look at.

I can't recommend this book. It has very little to do with 7th century Ireland or Rome, and, for that matter, very little to do with the good things about the 20th Century, such as tolerance. It has a great deal to do with the bad things about the 20th Century, such as ethnic hatred.

The author has no feel for the period. Although oil lamps are mentioned several times, the chracters act as if they're more used to electric lights. There are many inconsistencies, some trivial, some not. When Sister Fidelma is rude to other characters we are supposed to admire her spunk, but when other characters are rude to her, we are expected to resent it on her behalf.

The author is clearly uncomfortable in a Christian milieu, and especially in a monastic Christian milieu. He might have done better to set the books in pre-Christian Ireland, and better yet in a modern setting.

A mystery set in pre-Christian or early Christian Ireland would be a worthwhile contribution to the! historical mystery genre. Until that book is written, give Sister Ethnic Hatred a miss.

he author Peter Tremayne obviously has a great knowledge of Ireland in the 7th century and also on the Irish Law of the period. His Sister Fidelma book are attracting what can only be described as a cult following, but they are of interest to anyone who likes historical novels or mysteries. This series of books are set in Ireland in the 7th century, a time when there was total equality for women. The lead character is the beguiling Sister Fidelma. She is a brilliant scholar, a leading authority on Irish law and the sister of a king. This is also a period in history when celibacy was not yet a part of religious life.

The Irish, unlike the English have always shown a much greater respect and admiration for their womenfolk and this is why, even in an age when most countries treated women with little or no regard, other than for breeding an heir, that Sister Fidelma has risen to the position that she now holds. Although she is the sister of a king, this has little or no bearing on her ability to command respect.

The year is AD 64 and the Archbishop is found garrotted in his own rooms. A monk has been arrested running away from the scene of the crime, but Sister Fidelma is convinced that he is an innocent party. Fidelma joins with Brother Eadulf to find out the truth. But this is no simple crime, they find very little in the way of clues or evidence, but there seem to be a great deal of people who have a motive for committing the crime.