Waiting for War

 

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I stepped out of my literary comfort zone yet again this Spring Break. I’ve never been into that whole Knights-of-the-Round-Table-Damsels-in-Distress genre, but I came across a paperback that was rather intriguing. The back of The Book of Mordred simply stated:

 In the tradition of Arthurian legend, Mordred has been characterized as a buffoon, a false knight, and a bloodthirsty traitor. The Book of Mordred reveals a mysterious man through the eyes of three women who love him.

How can you not be enthralled by something like that? Adventure, a soiled name, a love story…

It was better than I expected. I’m considering reading Vivian Vande Velde’s other works to see if theyre just as pleasant. Not that the storyline was pleasant - far from it. If anything, it was juicy. Soaked in the darker aspects of life like despair and betrayal. What I enjoyed the most is the portrayal of our hero, Mordred. He is an imperfect knight which made him all the more likeable in my eyes. Come time for the end, I cried. I admit it. I got as attached to Mordred as the lovely ladies who told their tales did.

Herein lies the problem: I enjoyed this novel immensely! And I fear that I will neglect my top shelf even further in favor of dazzling tales about Arthur and Sir Gawain… Will my books have to wage war for my attention? I see books gnashing their blindings, shredded pages cast away.

No, no. Sir Gawain can wait, I suppose.  (sigh)