Published in 2006, this is by Ildefonso Falcones, a Spanish lawyer-cum-writer from Barcelona. It was his first novel, and has sold over 7 million copies worldwide. Impressive... (Julianne Douglas even uses it to extrapolate some guidelines for writing successful historical fiction...)

It first hit my radar when I was reading The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Laura Fernandez described that book's slow-burn success in Spain like this: "The spark didn't ignite instantly. It spread by word of mouth, a process that even created a new type of reader, since subsequent successes like Ildefonso Falcones's Cathedral of the Sea (2006) or Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code (2003) are inexplicable without the precedent set by Zafon. It could be said that The Shadow of the Wind put Barcelona on a map it had never featured on before: The map of international bestsellers... On the one hand, it allowed the city to become a centre of literary interest for a story of global scope (like the one by Falcones) and, on the other, it allowed the supernatural to intertwine with history -- a challenge that Dan Brown would later take up."



It's the sort of book I would normally have preferred to read in Spanish. But the English translation came up in one of those amazing book sales we get from time to time in Kuching (10 books for MYR 20, aka just over GBP 3...), and at that kind of price, it's just not worth turning your nose up... The English version, translated by Nick Caistor, came out in 2008.

The story opens in 1320, and closes 64 years later. On 15 August 1384, to be precise, the day of the consecration of the Basilica of Santa Maria del Mar -- the Cathedral of the Sea -- in the Ribera district of Barcelona.

The story follows the chequered career of one Arnau Estanyol, who rises from abject poverty and servitude to great wealth and power, only to crash down again to the prisons of the Inquisition, with a death sentence hanging over his head.

But the cathedral itself is also an imposing character in the novel. It represents an important example of Catalan Gothic (it was completed comparatively speedily -- within 54 years -- and so its style is unusually unified). More importantly, it captured the hearts of the ordinary people of Barcelona. The bastaixos, whose ranks Arnau joins for a while, were longshoremen who voluntarily carried, over considerable distances, the enormous stone slabs needed for construction:



The narrative is a rip-roaring adventure, featuring our hero Arnau, his tragic loves, his well-meant ambitions to improve the lot of the peasantry, and the enemies he creates in so doing. There are a few too many coincidences, and Falcones is not particularly interested in character development, but it's a good read, and offers an interesting picture of the era.

Michael Eaude, who has written a number of books about Barcelona, is complimentary about the historical research that has gone into it. "Falcones is a lawyer," he says, "and the complex plot turns on legal and financial manoeuvres that give an idea of medieval systems rarely found in a historical novel. Passionate in explaining 14th-century Barcelona, he draws convincing pictures of its architecture and culture, right down to basics such as the sewage stream (where the modern-day Ramblas now runs)." Other history bloggers variously testify to Falcones's "intricate knowledge of the laws on land ownership and peasant rights, guild membership and obligations, and the division between Christian, Moorish and Jewish societies", or recommend the novel for "both historical content and narrative zest".

So, given its credentials, what do we learn?

1. It was a pretty awful time to be a woman. The views on women (wicked, not to mention stupid and essentially inferior) are drawn from Lo Crestia, a text written by Francesc Eixemis, a Franciscan friar. Falcones introduces us to a woman convicted of adultery, who will be confined to a small room until she's released by death from her meagre diet of bread and water, and her total lack of freedom. He also illustrates how your rapist can make amends by marrying you (not that we're totally beyond this practice, even in this era...). As this blogger also points out: "There is an intriguing look into the toleration of prostitution -- even the Pope believed that it was a social benefit in some ways, preventing men who couldn’t marry from raping 'respectable' women or turning to homosexual acts. Prostitutes not only had a legal status (as long as they followed certain rules), but they were -- if they survived long enough -- able to be more independent than most women in that society, in many cases becoming financially independent."

2. It was also a pretty awful time to be a Jew. You're tied into a web of inconsistent laws about money-lending, and you're never safe from outbreaks of Christian wrath.

3. Slavery was still practised, and slaves could be procured in Byzantium, Palestine, Rhodes, Cyprus, Sicily, or Mallorca (one of Europe's biggest slave markets). Surrendered members of enemy forces could also be sold as slaves, and the tidal wave of deaths from the plague caused another uptick in demand for bonded labour. Mind you, feudal dependents, subject to their masters' every whim, were little better than slaves, as is illustrated by the fate of Arnau's parents.


The Sardinian city of Alghero, which we visited at the end of 2024, is noted for its Catalan heritage

4. I'd forgotten the role Aragon/Catalonia (the "Crown of Aragon", a composite monarchy joining the two polities) played in ruling various bits of the Mediterranean... Namely: "The Crown of Aragon, with its Peninsular territories and extra-peninsular territories, was the result of the merging of diverse political entities, incorporated at different times, each with its own shifting territorial boundaries. This means that its composition was fluid, and the map presented varied according to the period. Among the states that constituted the Crown of Aragon were the kingdoms of: Aragon, Valencia, Majorca (independent between 1276 and 1344), Sicily (1282-1296 and 1409-1713); Sardinia (1322-1708), Corsica (only at certain times), and Naples (from Alfonso V until 1707). It also included duchies, such as Athens and Neopatria; and a marquisate, Provence, although intermittently, several counties (Barcelona, ​​Urgell and Roussillon) and a lordship, that of Montpelier. Each of these territories was administratively, economically, and politically independent of the others, united only in the person of the king, whose titles always began with 'rex Aragonum' (King of Aragon)."



5. More generally, the international relations of the era are fascinating. The conquest of Sicily and Sardinia (an anti-Genoa move) was effectively financed by the citizens of Barcelona. But Genoa is constantly on the offensive, and conquered lands are hard to manage: "Sardinia is a rough, inhospitable land. We will never succeed in taming it." And no sooner is Sardinia brought to heel than the Corsicans rebel...

6. Threats to Barcelona's privileges or to individual citizens could result in the calling out of the "host", a citizen militia.

7. The Almogavars were an interesting brand of rag-tailed mercenaries, who came with a fearsome reputation, and helped to conquer Sicily.

8. Muslims could rise to important positions (eg, Arnau's advisor, Sahat, aka Guillem, aka "the Moor"). But they had to be circumspect and pliable with regard to their beliefs.

9. Despite all the military campaigns under way at any given time, trade was important, and the merchants of the day understood the need for free exchange: "We export honey but import wax. We have too much honey, but the churches use a lot of wax." The trade-related principles of international society -- sovereignty, representation, and good faith -- were already in evidence. Barcelona appoints a consul in every trading city, and each manages his own warehouse, which is like an extension of Catalonia. One character explains: "Every country is interested in trade. They can levy taxes and fill their coffers from it. Trade is a different world, Arnau. We may be at war with the Saracens, but, for example, since the last century Catalonia has had consulates in Tunis or Bugia, and make no mistake, no Arab leader would ever attack one."



10. The Inquisition was a fearful thing. The word means "search", and it was the job of the inquisitor to search out heresy and sin. Falcones illustrates some of their tactics, as they bamboozle people into confessions, twisting their words, and always holding torture over them as a possible next step in the interrogation. All for their own good, of course...

***

In all, a limited but interesting book. I would read more.