Reading History: The Good Wife of Bath: A Novel

Karen Brooks' fantastic novel gives Geoffrey Chaucer's most famous creation a chance to tell her story anew.

Every so often, you stumble across a book in a bookshop and you just know that you’re going to enjoy it. I distinctly remember where I first saw Karen Brooks’ The Good Wife of Bath: I was wandering through a bookshop in Rehoboth, and I just happened to see it sitting on the shelf of books recommended by store staff. I knew at once this book was for me. It took me quite a while to find the time to finally read it, but once I did, it immediately set its hooks on me, keeping me reading for hours after my bedtime for nights on end. This is the kind of historical fiction I truly love: filled with rich material detail but with a keen eye for character, drama, and action. 

If you’ve ever read (or even heard of) Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, then you have almost certainly heard of The Wife of Bath. She is one of the most famous women in English literary history, and so it was inevitable that she would eventually be given her own modern fictional retelling. Fortunately for us and for her, Brooks is a tremendously talented novelist, able to capture this extraordinary woman’s voice while also immersing us in the beautiful, brutal, and foreign world of medieval England. 

In some ways, the book has some superficial similarities to Ken Follett’s The Pillars of the Earth, which similarly employed a brutally realistic yet also romantic representation of the Middle Ages. To be sure, Eleanor–who later adopts the name of Alyson–has a lot to deal with, as she faces the blunt realities of a world in which women are definitely viewed as the weaker sex. This is a world, after all, in which women are often little more than bargaining chips between and among men, and Eleanor finds this out firsthand. 

However, she happens to be blessed with an indomitable spirit, one which serves her in good stead as she sets out to forge her own destiny rather than to simply bow and accept what the men in her life have decreed for her. She does, indeed, go through several husbands. Some of them bring her genuine happiness, often when she doesn’t expect it. This is, in fact, the case with her first husband, Fulk who, though significantly older than her, does nevertheless show her the meaning of happiness, both in the marital bed and in the world of business. Because he respects her as a wife and a helpmeet, she develops a shrewd business sense, one that helps her succeed in various ventures (no small thing in the Middle Ages, when the powerful guilds often squelched any competition, particularly any outfits which happened to be run by a woman). 

Unfortunately for Eleanor, some of her marriages are truly miserable, and she has to contend with the ugly reality of the patriarchy. Though she often knows how to use men to get what she wants, not all of her husbands are quite as malleable as she might like. In one of the novel’s most tragic portions, the one man whom she seems to truly love, who is much younger than herself, turns out to be the ugliest and most brutal of all and, as fortune’s wheel turns once more, she finds herself in very dire straits indeed. 

Time and again, however, Eleanor emerges triumphant, and she even manages to go on several notable pilgrimages, including the one to Canterbury which will be so key to her future fame. During these interludes, she writes to her cousin and sometimes-benefactor Geoffrey Chaucer, the man who comes to play an ever more important role in her life as the years go by. At times, they seem to be cordial enemies, while at other key moments he steps in to help her out of difficulties, often giving her reasoned advice (even if she doesn’t always follow it). It’s a lovely little device on Brooks’ part, one which acknowledges the complicated person that Chaucer truly was. 

Obviously, it is Eleanor who is the book’s primary appeal, and her voice is a strong and rich one, so much so that we can almost forget that we are reading about a fictional character and not a real person. Part of this also stems from Brooks’ command of the historical period. She doesn’t shy away from showing us the uglier, seamier parts of medieval life. This was a world in which modern sanitation wasn’t even remotely thought of, and where the line between success and penury was often a very delicate one. One’s life, and financial fortunes, can change very quickly indeed, often through no fault of one’s own. 

Indeed, it is the precarity of life that gives The Good Wife of Bath its powerful narrative energy. Eleanor lives in an England still reeling from the ravaging effects of the Black Death, which leads to both great opportunity and great peril for the lower classes. Eleanor comes to experience both ends of the spectrum. 

Overall, I found The Good Wife of Bath to be a truly extraordinary read. It’s the kind of book that really does a magnificent job of immersing you in the world that it depicts, without neglecting  the other essential ingredient of any great historical novel: a great heroine. This isn’t to say that Eleanor is perfect; far from it. In fact, she can be quite insufferable at times, so convinced of her own rightness that she will often ignore the advice of even those closest to her. At the same time, she is also steadfastly loyal to those who rely on her for help, and it is this which helps to ultimately redeem her. Given just how uncertain life can be in this world, it’s quite refreshing to see someone who genuinely cares for others, without necessarily having to do (since she isn’t a member of the clergy). 

Eleanor’s voice is a refreshing one, and she is a reminder of the extraordinary lives that medieval women often led. The Good Wife of Bath is an extraordinary story told extraordinarily well.