Aficionados of historical fiction quickly become adept at recognizing well-researched tales, and Sacred Hearts certainly ranks among them. From the outset, readers willing to immerse themselves in this book will find all of their five senses drawn into the days and nights at Santa Caterina, the Italian cloister that serves as its setting.For girls still in their teens who “said the words [vows] with their mouths and not with their hearts”, their sense of self was quickly – and involuntarily--lost. Their lives were no longer their own. They followed an austere existence, sleeping on straw in cold, dank rooms, eating subsistence diets, and praying around the clock at times interspersed between few hours of sleep and assigned rote tasks that would occupy the rest of their lives. Readers feel that oppression: the turning of keys to lock them in their rooms, the inability to speak either to rectify a wrong or to engage in social discourse. That was what I got out of the book. I had an idealized notion of women of the cloth and their noble callings. I did not know that when half of them took their vows, it was not of their choice: Their fathers could not pay a sufficient dowry or the nunnery served as an catchment for society's “unmarriables” due their physical or mental handicaps.Yet, just when the author has given us the clear picture of how smothering that life was, she offers the counterpoint: An arranged marriage from which there was no escape even if there were circumstances of physical violence, alcoholism, or shame due to the inability to bear children. Except that there was ONE escape—to the shelter of the convent. I gave the book four stars because I felt that the ending was a bit hurried. In a setting where one day melds into the next with time measured by prayer bells and the seasons by the liturgical calendar, I would like for the ending to not have felt so rushed. Inasmuch as the book alludes to even more stringent changes coming out of the Council of Trent and Serafina’s life ahead, I would be eager to read a sequel, focusing primarily on her, but reflecting on the continuing influence that the Church had during the Reformation years. I've always enjoyed Dunant's luscious prose, and Sacred Hearts is no exception. Convents and nuns themselves have always fascinated me, as it seems very "secret society" and mysterious. The different personas evinced throughout the novel sated my interest; however, the one recurring irritant is the character of Serafina (the young novitiate). I found her incredibly naive, selfish, and arrogant, completely unlikeable, even after I strived to place myself "in her shoes." It was hard for me to believe someone, anyone, could just take so much pity on her and risk as much as the nun did for Serafina. Perplexing, and ultimately it made me score the novel three stars instead of four stars.
What do You think about Sacred Hearts (2009)?
I liked Birth of Venus better than this book.
—rand0mch1ck
