Customer Reviews

A Troubadour's Testament

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

 

 

"The reason for writing is to shelter something from death." André Gide James Cowan uses this quotation as an epigram at the start of his book. I think the reason for his own writing is certainly to shelter something from death, but he is very secretive about what that "something" is. In A Troubadour's Testament, perhaps he tells us in the title, for troubadours are believed to have carried with them on their journeys the secret knowledge of the path to enlightenment and spiritual perfection. Their "testament" was the affirmation of the primacy of love in such a quest - perfect spiritual love: Platonic love - which they expressed in their poetry and music. But this is a strange book. The story begins with the narrator's discovery of an ancient death roll - a twelfth-century scroll which had belonged to the troubadour-poet, Marcebru, and on which was his eulogy to his love, a Cathar nun called Amedée de Jois. On the scroll, too, (as was customary) are tributes to her from others, which have been added on Marcebru's journey across Aquitaine. The narrator sets out on a journey of his own, retracing Marcebru's steps in reverse and trying to discover his motivations and something more about his love. This is, of course, the narrator's quest, and the usual testing of the questing hero takes place in some very strange encounters on his path: a blind artist; a philosophical paper-maker; a gold-panner from "the museum of life" who pans pools for poetry; a doctor who regards illness as an illusory condition; a Sufi story-teller in a fortress-bound tent; an ancient Abbess. For a long time, perhaps because I have been working with quest material recently, I thought this book was a fairly straightforward re-casting of the old questing journey: highly imaginative and full of poetry, but presenting the usual journey pattern and the usual 'secret' knowledge about the search for Truth. But the end surprised me, although it should not have done so, for it was exactly the traditional completion of the quest - "In my beginning is my end" as T.S.Eliot put it. My review copy of this book was accompanied by a transcript of an interview with James Cowan. He and the interviewer discuss solitude and silence, the limitations of language, and the "debased currency of words": all themes which are explored in the book. "Who do you think "A Troubadour's Testament" will appeal to?", Cowan is asked. His reply: "Thoughtful people. People who are not content with the way things are. People who enjoy reverie. I think a writer must have the courage to create his audience not have it created for him" Well yes, the audience for this book will be fairly limited, but I am not sure that this is James Cowan writing at his best anyway. And perhaps that does have something to do with the limitations of language for the testament he is trying to affirm. -- Ann Skea, Reviewer

I hope I don't confuse John Evans too much by saying that his first review was dead-on. This book, which deals with a history and subject I usually love to read about, constitutes bad fiction writing, period. No character in this book is a convincing, flesh-and-blood person. There's no sensory engagement, no movement, no developed scenes, nothing except a lot of dull, pretentious, abstract drivel. And I would not call this an example of creative postmodernism, either. Cowan would have been better off writing a non-fiction work -- at least it would have been a less embarrassing read.

In fact, I now think it's the wrong word altogether. More than that, I think I misjudged the book entirely! My apologies Mr Cowan.

I confess that the first time I read it I didn't like it all (and said so in a review on this website). But there was something about the book that captivated me, not allowing me to dismiss it so easily. Cowan writings has that effect on the reader, I have learned. I've read it three times now.

A TROUDADOUR'S TESTAMENT is not a succession of chapters so much as a collection of paintings; a tableaux in which the dialogue between the main character and the people he meets, his emotions, the scenery, all blend together to form a series of living pictures. Each picture relates a different phase in the main character's pilgrimage across France. With Cowan's encyclopedic knowledge and artful writing, they are beautifully crafted pictures as well. What I mistook the first time for underdeveloped plot and immobility on the part of the characte! rs was this "tableaux effect" (tableaux are not tableaux if things move too much!).

A TROUDADOUR'S TESTAMENT is an acquired taste. At least for me it was. But acquired tastes are also the longest lasting. I would still recommend Eco's THE NAME OF THE ROSE and Gaarder's THAT SAME FLOWER, though for different reasons than I now recommend A TROUBADOUR'S TESTAMENT. It is unique work and deserves to be enjoyed as such.

A medieval death roll is at the core of this book. Death rolls were carried around by medieval wayfarers and friends of the deceased would write pithy little obituaries on them. There are two wayfarers in this case, Marcebru the troubadour and the narrator who follows Marcebru around exotic haunts in Languedoc. Marcebru is in search of the lost love that had fired his poetry and his imaginative life. The narrator follows the troubadour's journeying but is more interested in Marcebru's inner quest for the recuperation or rejuvenation of an ideal love (or love of an ideal - the two are soon seen to be related). What draws the narrator on is the quesion of why Marcebru would have thrown the death roll into the river at Ussel before disappearing from the pages of history himself (I assume he is an historical character). I liked how the death roll survived. Each chapter has a point to make about love and imagination and the story moves along fast. The modern world of present day Languedoc, Spain and Italy pale into the background against the vivid imagining eye of the narrator as he travels the troubadour's route and interviews odd characters. Conventional literary characterisation is not followed as each meeting is of heraldic significance. The dialogue is thoughtful and amusing at the same time. The quotations from the scroll are absolutely convincing and inspired. The authenticity of the scroll and the narrator's rapport with Marcebru's poetry and imaginative values really give this book weight and depth. But the thing that really makes this book enjoyable is that, by contrast, the overall flavour is light, humerous in places and never heavy-handed; not for a word laboured or dull. It is better than A Mapmaker's Dream. I found this book an effortless combination of magic and realism. A tonic for the soul and if I was young and read it I'd be off to Languedoc tomorrow!!

One of several recent novels to use the "lost manuscript found" as a literary device since Umberto Eco's THE NAME OF THE ROSE, and by far the weakest of the lot. Cowan's main charactor is so underdeveloped that you do not know who he is, or why he should be so obessed with the poet Mercebru that he is willing to chase across France after him. Cowan's other charactors are not real people, merely props for more lectures on the greatness of Mercebru who we are not convinced was really all that great. His charactors do not speak, he merely puts words in their mouth. Consequently all charactors sound like him. Cowan further fails in assuming that by placing characters in exotic locations he can avoid the nuisance having to make them move. As a result, all anyone does in ths book is stand around talking about Mercebru which is never the same as allowing the reader into the world of Mercebru. In the end, I wasn't sorry I didn't make the trip. I would recommend as an alternative to this book Jostein Gaarder's THAT SAME FLOWER available for about the same price.

I found this book stayed in my consciousness. I have taken quotes from the book and written them down because the poetic narrative has a way of burrowing into one's mind. Perhaps its because I have an interest in the medieval era and in the troubadour tradition that I found Cowan's novel entirely enjoyable on any number of levels and find no difficulty in recommending it to the erudite reader.

I have very mixed feelings about this book.

It is framed as a novel about a scholar whose attention is directed to a death scroll (rouleau de mort) of the 12th-century troubadour Marcebru, whose poetry is the subject of the man's studies. The scroll eulogizes the nun Amedée de Jois, who was Marcebru's fin' amors. Such a scroll would be carried from place to place, with comments on the dead person written by many. The conceit of this book is that the scholar follows the journey made by Marcebru in creating the scroll in order to try to understand why, at the end of that journey, he threw the scroll in the river from whence it was subsequently recovered.

I found this level of the book to be unconvincing in the extreme, if only because the beginning of the novel suggests that the scroll has lain undiscovered in a museum and that the identity of Amedée as the object of Marcebru's courtly love was unknown, yet the scroll has been translated and everyone the scholar encounters, even by chance, seems to have heard of Marcebru and Amedée. In addition, in a very unscholarly fashion, Cowan's protagonist takes admittedly unsupported speculation and "tradition" and elevates it to "fact".

However, there is another level at which the book is more interesting, and that is as a meditation on the nature of poetry, of words, of life, and the interrelationship and relative importance of each. The commentaries of the 12th-century eulogizers as well as those of the 20th-century inhabitants are worth reading and mulling over. There's also quite a bit of about the struggle between Catharism and orthodox Catholicism that so informed the history of the Languedoc region of France.

Have you ever driven through a very small town that seems to disappear behind you in the blink of an eye? That is the same experience I had reading this book. It resembles a successfully developed outline of a book. James Cowan has mastered every action desciption imaginable. His character, walked here, drove there, thought about that, hmm. I never "smelled" this book. And the woman who inspires the poet into silence is never developed to the point that we understand who she was and why she deserved such admiration. I did find one sentence to be thought provoking about the birth of love as a defense against chasity and passion. A chapter on "White Friendship" was interesting. I wish the "Perfects" were explained more. This reads more like a travel log than the love story that my local library thinks it to be.

Perhaps A Troubadour's Testament isn't exactly the kind of book that would be classified as a page turner, but it had the qualities that a memorable book would have. With Cowan's talent of putting history into tales of enchantment, he has written this novel with discoveries about death, love, and faith that touches and deepens hearts and minds. It makes the reader think about his/hers life. Through Cowan's well plotted characters and events, we are able to capture an essence of the search for perfect love.

But I didn't. I just kept praying it would spead up as it went on. The story never improved, the pace was too slow and the writting uncaptivating.