| Time-travel stories aren’t my usual fare, yet I enjoyed The Everlasting. Three main characters drive the narrative: war-scarred veteran and historian Owen Mallory; female knight and legend Sir Una Everlasting; and War Minister Vivian Rolfe, who sends Owen back in time to record Una’s legendary death for posterity. The book starts with a recounting of Una Everlasting becoming the queen’s champion, told as a fairy tale. Then we meet Owen, who receives (in the mail) the lost book of Una Everlasting legends that past historians seem to reference. When another historian barges into his office, he bolts with the precious book: [I] ran for it, like the coward I always was and would always be. |
| Vivian Rolfe is tough and ruthless. She steals, then returns, the precious book to Owen—but now all the pages are blank. “Why,” I asked, swallowing, “are they blank?” She leaned over the desk, smiling peacefully. Beneath the tang of cigarette smoke, I smelled something sweet and a little familiar, like summer flowers. “Because you haven’t written them yet,” she said, and then she stabbed the letter opener through the back of my left hand. |
| Owen idolizes Una Everlasting, but she is quite different than he expects. Instead of boldly commencing on her final quest to find the Holy Grail and slay the last dragon, she’s hiding the yew forest, contemplating suicide. She both loves and hates the queen she serves, who will die without the Holy Grail. She is a woman scarred by countless battles. Owen writes of her: You hardly seemed to notice the cold or the terrain or the long days in the saddle. It didn’t strike me as toughness so much as an odd divide between you and your own flesh. As if your body was merely something you owned, like a sharp knife or a good pair of boots, which you might use hard and tend only when it showed signs of weakening. |
| The first 111 pages of the book, comprising “The First Death of Una Everlasting,” are told entirely from Owen’s viewpoint. In “The Second Death of Una Everlasting,” we get a similar story from Una’s point of view. When Owen makes physical contact, she responds: A shudder wracked me from skull to spine, and I knew suddenly how it would be with you. Most of my lovers—camp followers and soldiers, crofters’ daughters and the idle sons of lords—had wanted only to take or be taken; they came to me warily or arrogantly, shy or swaggering, as to a caged wolf. But you—oh, you would come to me on your knees, as to a king, and you would give and give. I was leaning down to you, ready to let you, when you looked up from my palm. You met my eyes—and flinched. |
| The book explores themes of cowardice and survival. At one point, learning that his friend’s lover has been imprisoned, Owen says “Love makes cowards of us all.” But when he visits his drunkard father, his understanding shifts: What happiness my father might have had, he’d sacrificed for me . . . As you had sacrificed yourself, over and over, for your queen. I thought, despairing, that love didn’t make cowards of us, after all; it made heroes, and heroes didn’t usually survive. |
The “Last Death of Una Everlasting” was worth the journey. Everything that went before comes together in the final 16 pages of the book in a way that makes every single word resonate from the preceding chapters. I won’t spoil the ending, but I will say it was absolutely satisfying in the best way possible.
Writing instructors often say the ending can make or break a novel—the exquisite ending of The Everlasting made this novel a powerful and rewarding reading experience.
The Bruising of Qilwa, The Dragon’s Path (The Dagger and the Coin series), Pledging Season
Nonfiction on the political power of story: Stories are Weapons, A Paradise Built in Hell