Ben Hopkins

In 1229, nineteen-year-old Reichard Schäffer’s father dies, leaving him the head of the family in a quiet, out-of-the-way sheep herding village. Deciding that serfdom and sheep no longer suit him, the boy, known as Rettich, leaves his village with his younger brother, Emmerich, for Hagenburg, the (fictional) Alsatian town that gleams like a marvel in their eyes. It’s anything but, of course, but both boys will understand its depths and complexities in time, though from very different perspectives.

Right off, Rettich seeks to buy their freedom so that they may remain city-dwellers, a reminder that in thirteenth-century Europe, birth determines not only who you are and what profession you may follow, but where you may live. What Rettich desires is nothing less than revolutionary, and people who hear his plan shake their heads. But one person who listens is Meir Rosenheim, the Jewish moneylender, to whom the Schäffers appeal for the ready coin they need. Serfs normally wouldn’t prove worthy debtors, but Meir perceives something in them that decides him to take a chance, and besides, Emmerich’s remarkable capacity to calculate intrigues him. Rettich gets his money; the boys buy their freedom; and Emmerich has a job with the house of Rosenheim.

From such small beginnings great things emerge. Rettich, a gifted woodcarver, earns an apprenticeship to the stonecutters working on the Hagenburg Cathedral, very much in its infancy. Emmerich learns how to handle money and proves himself an astute businessman. From them, and the many characters that come in contact with them, spins a beautifully imagined tale of greed, politics, skullduggery, sex, bigotry, and piety, often in mystical terms. As this order of importance implies, for most of Hagenburg, building a cathedral is a religious enterprise in name only. Rettich is an exception.

But he can’t say so, at least not in the way he would like, because nobody would listen. As an artist, he believes in reproducing figures from nature, a heretical notion, especially when it comes to cathedral artwork. He does find an outlet for discussion with an architect, a true visionary, whose views are equally controversial. But change is in the air. Witness Emmerich, who learns banking—though it’s not called that—and the power that money wields in politics, when noblemen are perennially short of cash. They fear and despise him but know he’s absolutely necessary.

Both brothers embody a strain of the coming Renaissance that no one foresees—and so does their sister, Grete. She marries up, to a struggling merchant in town, of whom she quickly proves the equal. Naturally, that makes him uncomfortable, but the results speak for themselves. And Grete thinks large. She works toward the day when money will allow people of her social class—her new, acquired social class--to have a say in how things get done, elbowing her way among the aristocracy. This avant-garde feminist attempts to break several barriers, and the manner in which she goes about it makes all three siblings’ stories compelling.

Inwardly, outwardly, and sometimes both, these characters and others act with great daring. Those among the large cast who can afford to—and a few who shouldn’t—speak their minds freely, which lends the narrative zest and fire. The novel’s resident cynic is Eugenius von Zabern, a church canon and the bishop’s secretary, who has the unenviable task of finding money to build the cathedral.

Reading gorgeous prose is one delight of Cathedral, and though there’s a lot of it, I find nothing extraneous. Scenes move smartly, and the dialogue clips along, perhaps testament to Hopkins’s career as a screenwriter and director. I also admire his grasp of historical detail. Whether describing Hagenburg (a character in itself), the glimmers of change and how people react to it, or endemic belief in conspiracy theories, especially about heretics or Jews, Hopkins renders time and place with complete authority. I defy anyone to start this book and put it down.

Cathedral is a masterpiece.… (mais)

Normally, historical novels are not my cup of tea, but this one really is one to enjoy. Hopkins takes us back to the Middle Ages, to the Alsace, the border area between the Vosges and the Black Forest. He chronicles life in and around the fictional town of Hagenburg, where a Gothic cathedral is under construction in the 13th century. Contrary to what the title suggests, that cathedral is not the central focus of this novel, but a motley crew of characters. Hopkins follows different perspectives, and he varies the form through an alternation of 3rd person narrators, personal testimonials, diaries and letters, with the chronological line shifting each time.
To my surprise, Ben Hopkins turns out not to be a professional author at all (this is his first book), but a film director. That may explain the very smooth, scene-bound storytelling style that – at least for me – never drowns in historical details. And yet he brings a very rich, and above all correct, evocation of that medieval period: the poverty of most people, the cynical power game between various authorities, the rise of the bourgeoisie in the cities, the special place of Jews in medieval society , and on a higher level the Investiture Controversy between Pope and Emperor, and the rise of the Habsburg dynasty.
Don't expect a finished story: the characters come and go, happy events alternate with doom and gloom. What is striking is that almost every character, rich or poor, voiceless or powerful, sooner or later has to deal with his or her share of misery. Hopkins' message seems clear: it is an illusion to achieve permanent happiness in this earthly existence. There are no constants in this vale of tears, existence is embedded in a vortex of ever-changing circumstances. Hopkins illustrates this in a story that is absolutely worth reading, even for 600 pages.… (mais)