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I, Julian by Claire Gilbert: Fascinating Christian literature that will make you feel like a grotty voyeur

Fictionalisation of the life of Julian of Norwich and her all-consuming faith

Julian of Norwich was the first woman to write a book in English. This makes her fair game, I suppose
Julian of Norwich was the first woman to write a book in English. This makes her fair game, I suppose
I, Julian
Author: Claire Gilbert
ISBN-13: 9781399807524
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Guideline Price: £18.99

I, Julian is presented in my press release as historical fiction and likened to Hilary Mantel. As with all press releases (how can almost every book be the best thing I’ll read all year?), these descriptions can’t be trusted. Certainly, I would never have picked it up, had I not been thusly compelled by this paper. Because without question, this is Christian literature, not historical fiction. But then, I’m glad I did pick it up, for as a record of what it means to have genuine, all-consuming faith, it’s a fascinating piece of writing. It offers riveting insight into the mind of a person who not only believes in God, but spends their life trying to suss out his motives.

Reading I, Julian, I couldn’t but help feel myself a somewhat grotty voyeur at times. Julian, the novel’s speaker (a real person, fictionalised), lived as an anchoress in the tumultuous, plague-ridden Norwich of the 14th century. For those who’ve never heard the term “anchoress” or “anchorite” (ahem), it was a layperson, female or male respectively, who lived in solitary confinement thinking about God, being holy (they had a “living funeral”, before being quite literally bricked into their cell). So really, according to her vocation, we shouldn’t be getting a look at her at all. The difference with Julian is, she wrote a book about her fever dream “visions” from God. In fact, she was the first woman to write a book in English, ever. This makes her fair game, I suppose.

This is a difficult topic – writing about a hermit in a room, also writing. I doff my hat to Gilbert’s chutzpah. Yet in truth, as I’ve said, this is a book about faith. Julian’s story is the means to that end. Which is handy, because Julian herself, in her ethics and outlook, reads uncannily like an intelligent, religious feminist of today. This contemporality of thought is undoubtedly the book’s greatest failing.

But then, with a plague and battles about truth raging outside her lonely cell, clearly Gilbert wanted us to draw a direct parallel between Julian and our recent selves. Then, the fights were over interpretations of the Bible. Now it’s Twitter. Truth may not out, but faith certainly seems to help.