The Essex Serpent

Benevolent humanist Sarah Perry's The Essex Serpent is mystifying. Here we have an author seeking friendship with all of her characters, although revealing their dark and dangerous personality traits. A science versus religion debate where there's an almost unthinkable ethical contradiction that seems inappropriate. And a personal attitude that starts hopeful and ends in pessimism. But through it all, there is an exquisite use of words and descriptions and arguments that you'd expect from a Doctor of Philosophy in Creative Writing, one that holds your attention and keeps you wanting for more. Suppose Cora Seaborne, the protagonist, is not your conservative Victorian widow. In that case, neither is William Ransome, your orthodox provincial rector, the two coming together with incongruous views on an ophidian folktale coming to life and threatening the peace of the Blackwater estuary. Cora, the educated feminist, coveting scientific fact to local sightings, and William, seeking to protect his flock from witchcraft and heresy, miraculously embark on a mutual relationship, all the while William's wife has a terminal illness, and Cora's son has autistic tendencies. There are other characters: the jilted lover, the socialist companion, the London acquaintances et al., all of whom mix to form a story eloquently laced with crafted prose. And the descriptions of Essex and its customs, a county a know a little of, are outstanding.
If I had a question for Sarah Perry, though, it would be this. You appear to have turned your back on your Christian instruction, taking that which is the power of grace and repudiating it with the notion that we can all follow a humanist direction to do strongly. But why? The Essex Serpent is brilliant to allow the reader to encode their fears into their constructs, just like Ransomes' parishioners, and suit their ends. However, the moral failure of William Ransome's conduct with Cora Seabourne disturbs me more. It's as if the moral failure cannot be conquered, reflecting perhaps on some incident or incidents in the author's background in a strict Baptist church, with almost no access to contemporary art, culture, and writing. I'm speculating that her fear is the fall from God's favour. She starts the book hopeful that it is still there for her. Still, her human endeavour is now an unredeemable path, a fact that her King James Bible would bid her not to be afraid of: "Say to them of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompense; he will come and save you." Isaiah 35:4.
My recommendation to Sarah Perry and everyone else is to trust God for His justice and not seek any demise for negative childhood instruction. Reformed Christian theology isn't perfect, but the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. It may not sell books, but in my book, it's true. As my hope for the future renews, letting go of the fears from the past, I hope too that Perry's future will continue, not least because she is a damn good author and storyteller.

Great book! Really enjoyable read.

This is a remarkable book beautifully written and best of all nearly every character is a hero, not in the sense that of derring do but in the sense that each one is true to himself and especially herself. Each one is realised and defined, even children and minor characters so that this reader was engaged almost from the first page. It is textured and colourful, perhaps I am prejudiced because I knew someone like Cora and I loved them both