The spirit and the flesh: Emily Maguire's Rapture

Emily Maguire’s Rapture is an entrancing vision of a woman who unexpectedly rises to the height of influence in an exclusively male realm: the Roman Catholic church in the early Middle Ages.

This new reinterpretation of the legend of Pope Joan explores the meanings of its title – spiritual, intellectual, and physical fulfillment – in the life of its subject, who finds she can’t deny her humanity and womanhood (“Oh, tiresome, greedy, needful body!”) while satisfying her cravings for scholarly nourishment. 

The book is subdivided into sections whose headings come from a 13th-century chronicle, and I appreciated this nod to the limited record of her perhaps-existence. In 820s Mainz in the Frankish realm, Agnes, daughter of a man known as the English Priest and a pagan woman who died in childbirth, grows up absorbing the discussions in her father’s household, and the contents of his vast library, while viewing the wonders of nature.

The arrival of a young Benedictine monk, Brother Randulf, the most talented scribe at the Abbey of Fulda, shakes up her world. To her astonishment and pleasure, he acknowledges her thoughts have value and treats her like an equal. After her father’s death, Agnes asks him to take her to Fulda, in male disguise, so she can contemplate her learnings at leisure… or so she hopes.

This begins a deception that takes her from Fulda to the outskirts of Athens and at last to Rome, where her growing reputation leads her to become the right hand of Pope Leo IV. The violent impact of the Carolingian Civil War, when Charlemagne’s grandsons battled for control of land and empire, comes through well, as does the incessant politicking (which Agnes dislikes) within the pope’s inner circle.

Spiritually rich without being preachy or dense with theological arguments, the writing is a delight to read. It's an excellent vehicle for Agnes’s dramatic journey. We’re treated throughout to Agnes’s wise observations on her patriarchal environment, thanks to her unique viewpoint. “It is a revelation,” she thinks about the tedious rules and enforced humility of monastery life, “that these men struggle and need constant correcting in order to live as women must.” The ending, which fits with the Pope Joan legend, is transcendent.

Rapture was published by Sceptre in the UK, and by Allen & Unwin in Australia. In the US, the UK edition is sold on Kindle, which is how I purchased my copy. My choice to read this novel was inspired by recent news on papal history following the death of Pope Francis, as well as (related) the film Conclave, which I saw on Prime last weekend. I suspect Rapture will get an unintentional boost in readership thanks to world events!