This summer, I’m doing the 20 Books of Summer challenge, and instead of straight reviews, I’m going to compare my impressions of books to their write ups in the 1001 Books list (see the whole list and my progress here), or in this case, I’m comparing a regular book to a few listed books.

For a fifty-year-old novel in a genre I rarely read, I was surprised how many connections I made while reading Green Darkness by Anya Seton. These comparisons are mostly unfavourable to Seton, but, I do think this is a fascinating story, both ahead of its time and a throwback, even in 1972. 

Green Darkness makes you think it’s about the leisure class in 1960s England, specifically, newlyweds Richard and Celia, who are hosting a motley crew of friends, relatives, and acquaintances at Richard’s ancestral manor house. But that’s just an excuse to explore the past lives of the couple, who are pretty boring in the present day, but were apparently in love at least twice before, once in late-Tudor England and once in ancient times. The bulk of the book tells the tale of Celia the barmaid and her doomed affair with a Benedictine Monk during the reigns of Edward VI, Mary I, and Elizabeth I (and, briefly, Jane). We know from page one that things don’t end well, to put it mildly: Celia ends up being “walled up”, that is, sealed in a tiny room, alive, Cask of Amontillado style. This is based on a maybe-true story of the “walled-up girl” of Ightham Mote.

Despite the lack of a happy ending, to me, this is a romance novel. There are literal ripped bodices, as well as overwrought declarations, trysts in the woods, love potions, and a LOT of sexual frustration. These people are horny as hell, and I tell you, when we finally see some action around page 350, I was a little frustrated too!

I immediately started thinking of other books in the “horny monk” genre, both of which happen to be on the 1001 list: The Monk by Matthew Lewis (#946) and The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco (#293). Green Darkness is pretty out there, with the whole past lives, reincarnation angle, but doesn’t quite reach the heights (or depths) of drama found in The Monk (both Satan and The Spanish Inquisition make appearances, someone “accidentally” marries a ghost) nor the horniness… I’m pretty sure there are more sex scenes in this 18th century novel. The Name of the Rose is a more compelling mystery, and a better written book, with just a few horny moments, both hetero (Brother Adso and the peasant girl) and homosexual (various monks). 

I also have The Nun by Denis Diderot (#944) on deck for 20 Books of Summer, which I imagine is in this vein, though perhaps more sapphic…

Looking beyond monks and the 1001 books, there are also quite a few parallels between this book and the steamy Thornchapel series by Sierra Simone, in which another ragtag group of friends, including a VERY horny priest, repeat the sins of their ancestors in a manor house. It’s got a murder mystery and a strong paranormal element too. Though Simone would never make you wait 350 pages for a sex scene. 

Then there’s the historical angle. I’m no expert, but I did have a Tudor phase a few years ago, and the political and social backdrop seemed well-researched. Reading names like Wyatt and Wriothesley put me in mind of Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall trilogy, which is unfair, because no one is doing it like her (or, did it – I keep forgetting she’s gone). Green Darkness was never going to deliver a character with the depth of Thomas Cromwell, and Seton’s Wyatts and Wriothesleys are just walk-on parts in Celia and Stephen’s story, not delightful characters in their own rights. Seton created a world where Mantel created a universe – and the fact that Mantel is not represented on any edition of the 1001 Books lists is a gross oversight.

Emma Donoghue is a more apt comparison – she’s known for taking the kernel of a historical fact and running with it, like in Slammerkin, where the real story of a teenage servant girl who murdered her employer in 18th century Wales was woven into a story about greed and lust in London. The walled-up girl of Ightham Mote is just as good a starting point – even if it is probably a myth. 

Green Darkness doesn’t quite measure up to most of these classics, however, it’s pretty impressive that it balances so many elements and genres: paranormal, historical, suspense, and romance. The prose style reads like a throwback, but the genre-shifting and subversion of (some) romance tropes makes it feel pretty modern.

As for how its aged in the fifty years since it topped the bestseller list: there’s a surprising amount of gay and bisexual representation (and at one point I wondered if Celia and her friend Magdalen, the future Viscountess Montagu, were going to have a lesbian romance – Emma Donoghue, please write that story!). There’s also a surprising number of racial slurs thrown around in the contemporary sections. Modern readers also might be a bit dubious about a 27-year-old monk’s desire for a 14-year-old girl in the beginning of the story, but remember, it’s a slow burn; several years pass and she’s a widow by the time anything too crazy happens!

I’m only left wondering two things: was there really a walled-up girl at Ightham Mote, and what does the “green darkness” in the title refer to? Google is unhelpful on both accounts.