A Measure of Light

God hath called us to establish a peaceful kingdom, since his purpose has been destroyed in the old country. In this land, beneath these trees, upon these rocks.

The most astonishing lines in A Measure of Light come in an afterword titled These Things are True: Until that moment, I hadn't realised that the main character, Mary Dyer, and the significant scenes that she was placed in, were all based on actual events. I thought I was reading historical fiction -- in which an author might exaggerate the experience of one character in order to give a flavour of everything that's going on -- but this is actually a biographical fiction, in which Mary Dyer did indeed live this outsized life (with the author, Beth Powning, taking leave to colour in the unknowable bits).

The history of this time and place (1634-1660, England and New England) made for a fascinating read: With the support of Charles I, Archbishop Laud, newly appointed as the Archbishop of Canterbury, went about reforming and standardising the rites of the Church of England. As he imposed Catholic-type rituals and symbols (including stained-glass windows and ornate altars in the churches), those ministers who resisted and preached simplicity -- the Puritans -- were rounded up, thrown into stockades, and had their ears sliced off. Fearing similar treatment, many Puritans -- including Mary and William Dyer -- decided to emigrate to the colonies, where they could practise their beliefs freely. Imagine, having lived in the modern metropolis of London, having worn new kid leather gloves and attended the latest Ben Johnson play before departure, and after enduring a hellacious ocean crossing, this sighting of Salem is the first view you get of your new home:

Mary's glass revealed not houses but rude huts, plastered with mud, thatch-roofed. Trees still bearing their bark lay butt to tip, and behind the makeshift fence a few cows grazed. People clustered, like dabs of paint, watching the ship.

The Dyers eventually settled in Boston, and although the houses were more substantial, the religious atmosphere was not what they were promised: instead of enjoying a freedom of belief, the Puritan elders of the city imposed an onerous religious duty upon its citizens, compelling everyone to attend day-long Sunday meetings in which they themselves could not speak; meetings where the stern greybeards often railed against the weak-mindedness of women. Every aspect of their daily lives were ruled by the ministers (and as the ministers controlled who stood for government and who could vote, their grip was iron clad) and the tradition of the stockade and whippings followed the seekers of freedom to their new homes; only now it was not Puritans in general who were punished but only those who didn't follow its strictest interpretation. By the end of this period, even a visitor to Boston who did not profess adherence to the "bloody laws" could face whippings or banishment or death.

Meanwhile, back in England, when Oliver Cromwell took control of the crown after the execution of Charles I, he introduced a Boston-style strict Puritanism, and those who had formerly known persecution now found themselves in charge, and could be every bit as cruel as their former tormentors. Into this atmosphere arose George Fox and Friends (Quakers) who believed that communion with God didn't require a church at all, and as they travelled England and the New World, spreading their word, they became the greatest victims of anti-heresy laws.

Mary Dyer -- in this book and in fact -- was present at many of these upheavals, and as a person of great faith, she put religious duty above regard for her own safety and obligation to her family. The historical elements of this book, as I said, were fascinating to me, and especially the frying-pan-to-fire experience of those Puritans who sought religious freedom in Boston.

As for the imagined bits, Beth Powning must have done an incredible amount of research as A Measure of Light is crammed full of historical details; everything the people ate and wore and planted and worked at. This was conveyed in more or less natural ways, as in:

Sinnie loved (the house's) shelves of folded quilts, pillowbeers, sheets, linen drawers and stockings, silk caps and dimity waistcoats. She loved the hall and pantry, with its pewter platters, salt cellars, kettles; its store of cheeses and cured hams, its crocks of pickled cabbage and nasturtium buds, applesauce, grape juice.

And in ways that I found slightly unnatural, as in, "officers wearing the yellow-cuffed red wool coats, grey breeches and felt hats of the New Model Army". Also, I wonder if the author was making the case that Mary Dyer suffered from mental illness: She is shown repeatedly tormented by Post Partum Depression and, while she always enjoyed the support of her husband, even he wondered if her religious fervour wasn't a type of madness. When in the grips of great emotion, Mary's perspective becomes a stream-of-consciousness that blends memories and impressions with statements of conviction, in a poetic literary style that didn't always seem to serve the seriousness of her situation; unless this may be seen as a symptom of madness? For the most part, though, I did enjoy the lyricism of Mary's thoughts:

She looked up towards the fells. She could simply continue walking. Until she succumbed to starvation. She pictured it -- a stagger, a fall. Too weak to rise. Palms clasping the earth. Sleep. A scroll of snow between her lips. In spring, rabbits, heedless upon the bones of her fingers.

I would say that a person's enjoyment of A Measure of Light might be directly related to how affected one is by that last sample passage. I liked it quite a bit, and coupled with the fascinating history, this was a very enjoyable read for me.

It's been well over a year since I've been lucky enough to receive a book from my newspaper's virtual book club but this was worth waiting for. As before, I needed to answer some questions for the eventual newspaper article, and here they are:

Rate this book with a score between 0 and 100:  85.

I read A Measure of Light in 3 sittings.

What was better: the beginning or the ending? The ending.

Who was your favourite person recounted in the book? Mary Dyer.

Sum up this book in a tweet (140 characters): A lyrically imagined biography of a 17th century woman who put religious duty above regard for her own safety or obligation to her family.

If you like this book, you’ll like : Caleb's Crossing. This is another fictional historical biography, told from the perspective of a 17th century Puritan woman, recounting the life of her friend Caleb Cheeshahteaumuck; the first Native American to graduate from Harvard.

What’s a question you have for the author? With her Post Partum Depression and William's declaration of her madness, are you saying that Mary Dyer's religious fervour is a symptom of mental illness?

And in the April 14th edition of the National Post, the feature on this book was published and Beth Powning replied: I think that William's statement that Mary was suffering an “inconvenient madness” indicates his own degree of desperation. We will never know if he really believed this. He was trying to save her life. I do not believe she was suffering from mental illness, although I do think postpartum depression would have caused her to have suicidal ideation as well as cyclical losses of hope and perspective But I feel she was clear, focused and fierce when she took that last ride to Boston.

I especially liked that the headline for the Q & A section was "I do not believe she was suffering from mental illness". Makes me think I was onto something.