May We Feed the King
This remarkable story, set in two eras, begins and ends in the present with a seven centuries-prior medieval in between. The modern setting features a purposed, methodical curator who is hired to dress rooms for public display in a mansion house that was once palace to a reluctant king. The two main characters, curator and consultation archivist, are non-gender specific, also un-described and un-named. This is narrated from the curator’s first-person point of view.
In the historic strand, in that same building and in standard third person, we meet the king and his court with its daily routines and clandestine machinations. These persons are similarly anonymous, identified only by occupation, e.g., King, Chief Adviser, young Attendant, et al. In neither era is there any dialogue as such, instead, speech is reported, overheard, rumoured, italicised. The refreshingly different narrative style is laid out in numerous brief ‘chapter-ettes’, some very short indeed, each enigmatically titled with a block-capitalised phrase.
With competently evocative writing and a fine turn of phrase (e.g., soil ready for planting becomes “Gums with the promise of teeth”) Perry entices us to watch events dispassionately, much as secret observers might, slowly revealing the underlying mystery, even the inklings of a love story. I endeavour not to repeat my comments in reviews, but for this I’ll make an exception. Remarkable.
