Joanne Harris: Holy Fools

Reviewed by MARGIE THOMSON

It seems sour to turn on a once-admired author for doing the same thing again and again, but there can come a time when her books start to seem like parodies of themselves. For the second time, Harris has steered clear of food - Coastliners was themed with the sea; Holy Fools is set in a 17th century monastery and reeks of religious mysticism - but she seems to have lost her way, along with her original theme.

Holy Fools reminds me of one of the travelling circuses that romp through its pages, with a small number of performers playing a welter of roles, simply changing dress and wigs to give the illusion of numbers. It's becoming clear that in Harris' books the same characters appear time after time, just with different names and backstories.

Bring back the heady aromas of Framboise's kitchen in Five Quarters of the Orange, I say, and begone with trying to transplant a 21st century sensibility into a 17th century context, and then giving her only dried bread to eat.

Juliette (aka Chocolat's Vianne, Coastliners' Mado and so on) is a former high-wire performer who once travelled in her caravan along the rutted roads of France and lived a carefree existence in circus troupes made up of gypsies and rogues. She's a feminist uninhibited about sex, an aetheist but a mystic, fiery but kind-hearted, and skilful at herbal remedies and poisons. For the five years before the story opens she's lived in a remote monastery, the Abbey of Sainte Marie-de-la-Mer. How and why she ended up there, along with her 5-year-old daughter Fleur, is recounted in the first part of the book, including the story of her relationship with the evil Guy LeMerle, whom she first adored and then came to hate.

LeMerle, disguised as a priest, is about to re-enter the scene however, with the new abbess. She is 11-year-old Isabella, with whom Juliette instantly locks horns. Where an earthy, female culture once predominated at the abbey, now the male religious principles of penance and sin take hold, and things are set for a mystery-laden, hell-firish finale.

Little stacks up in this overdramatised, overlong tale. On the good side, however, is Harris' trademark darkness that smears dirty fingerprints across her idealism. Her sense of psychology, and of the complexity of human relationships and motivations, remains surprising and satisfying.

Doubleday, $39.95