Sistersong by Lucy Holland

★★★

Engaging yet ultimately dispiriting tale of Ancient Britain

In Dumnonia in the 6th century AD there live three sisters. Riva, Keyne and Sinne are Celtic princesses, the daughters of King Cador and Queen Enica. Riva, the eldest, was injured in a terrible fire when she was younger, leaving her with permanent scars and a disability, but, by the same token, she is gifted with an extraordinary power to heal. The only person she cannot heal is herself. Keyne, the middle sister, loathes all that being female and being forced to do the “feminine” things required of women and girls in a rigidly patriarchal society entail. Such is her antipathy towards her female body and what is expected of her that she longs to be seen by her father as his son. Sinne, the youngest sister and the most carefree, is a dreamer whose dreams often seem so real as to be perilously prophetic. Her rebelliousness and free-spirited nature tend to get her into trouble but, at the same time, make her loved by all.

As the three sisters grow into young women, their lives in their father’s hold of Dunbriga begin to change. King Cador is abandoning the old gods and their land-bound magic as a new religion, Christianity, sweeps across the land, entering Dunbriga in the figure of the zealous priest Gildas. When the wise man and storyteller Myrdhin returns after years away, a chain of events is set in motion which lead to the arrival of the mysterious stranger Tristan and his mute servant Os into their midst. Initially welcomed as an emissary from the kingdom of Dyfed, Tristan’s presence causes tensions among the sisters that eventually reach breaking point…

Based on the ballad “The Twa Sisters” to which a third sister has been added, told from the POV of each of the three sisters, and with a fascinating premise blending history and fairy tale, Sistersong has all the elements of a riveting read. Set in post-Roman Dark Ages Britain, a period about which few records exist, the novel does a good job evoking the atmosphere, grimness, and harsh nature of life as it would have been back then, particularly for women. The grind of everyday living, chores, hardship, and tedium are vividly portrayed, as are the wonders of telling stories by firelight, the joys of singing songs, the terrors of being lost in the wild outside the safety of the hold, and the horrors of battle. Slow-burning to begin with, the plot builds to an action-packed final act.

However, the depiction of the spirituality and religious beliefs of the era feels at times too contemporary and jarring in its historical context, as well as lacking nuance. The stock character of the priest Gildas is such an exaggeratedly over-the-top villain that he is reduced almost to a pantomime figure. The medieval priest with no redeeming features whatsoever is an unoriginal standard trope at this point; it would have been more interesting and believable had there been more complexity in his character. Based, it would seem, on the historical Gildas, who in his De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae wrote an excoriating account of King Constantine of Dumnonia (a significant figure in this novel), the priest comes across as so dour, unpleasant, and socially inept, it is hard to believe that anyone would have given him the time of day, let alone granted him any power. There is a hint that it is Gildas’ self-loathing and rejection of who he really is that drive him, but, unfortunately, this is not explored in any detail or depth.

This is the case with other characters as well, including the sisters themselves, who, having been so promising at the start, sadly decline into stereotypes by the end: the lovelorn romantic dupe whose emotions cloud her judgement; the nonconformist who ends up adopting and submitting completely to patriarchal norms of leadership and power; and the transgressor who is cruelly and unjustly punished with a terrible fate. Of course, fairy tales don’t have to have happy endings. And many historical tales, particularly (again) those of women, certainly don’t. But it is disappointing that a story about sisterhood fails to offer young women readers who would see themselves in one of the sisters any glimmer of solidarity, positivity or hope for what it means to be female – either in the Ancient Britons’ world or their own.

Jo-Anne Blanco as Arwen Evenstar for Elite Group
Elite Group received a copy of the book to review
©Jo-Anne Blanco 2021