Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 1. All of the characters in this novel have their failings and as a result they are all fully human. Are you surprised by the secrets Elinor and Michael Mompellion each reveal to Anna about their marriage? How do they change your feelings about each character? Do they make either seem weaker in a way? 2. The Bradford family bears the brunt of Mompellion's rage when they leave town to save themselves. However, weren't they only doing what every other noble family did in those days: run because they had the means to run? Setting aside the events near the end of the novel (which make it clear that one would be hard-pressed to find a redeeming quality in any of them), can you really blame the Bradfords for running? 3. How much of Mompellion's push for the quarantine had to do with the secrets he shared with Elinor? Did his own dark side and self-loathing push him to sacrifice the town or was he really acting out of everyone's best interests? 4. Keeping in mind that this story takes place a good twenty-five years before the Salem witch trials in Massachusetts, what is the role of the Gowdie women in the novel? What is it about these women that drives their neighbors to murderous rage? How does their nonconformity lead to their becoming scapegoats? 5. How would you explain Anna's mental and spiritual unraveling? What are the pivotal experiences leading up to her breakdown and her eventual rebirth? 6. Discuss the feminist undertones of the story. How does each female character—Anna, Elinor, the Gowdies, and even Anna's stepmother—exhibit strengths that the male characters do not? 7. In a story where the outcome is already known from the very beginning—most of the villagers will die— discuss the ways in which the author manages to create suspense. 8. The author creates an incredible sense of time and place with richly textured language and thoughtful details—of both the ordinary (everyday life in Eyam) and the extraordinary (the gruesome deaths of the villagers). Discuss some of the most vivid images and their importance to the story and to your own experience reading it. 9. Can we relate the story of this town's extraordinary sacrifice to our own time? Is it unrealistic to expect a village facing a similar threat to make the same decision nowadays? What lessons might we learn from the villagers of Eyam?
AN INTERVIEW WITH GERALDINE BROOKS In your afterword, you describe chancing upon Eyam and its terrible history while living in England in 1990. Can you tell us a bit about your research—for instance, what you uncovered about the townspeople and perhaps didn't include in the novel for whatever reason? What about the difficulties of writing a story that blends fiction with historical fact, especially given your journalistic, just-the-facts background? The written record of what happened in Eyam during the plague year is scant. Apart from three letters by the rector, no narrative account from the year itself actually exists. The "histories" that purport to record the facts were actually written many years later, and historians have found inconsistencies that cast doubt on their accuracy. Therefore, there was no way to write a satisfying nonfiction narrative. And, since the story had taken root in my imagination, the only way to indulge my impulse to tell it was to take the leap into fiction. The factual basis of the story was actually very helpful to me: it was like having the framing of the house already erected—I could see the shape from the beginning. The things I decided not to use from the anecdotal accounts passed down over time were those things that would have seemed most like implausible inventions. For example, a young couple is said to have lived in the church around the plague time, seeking sanctuary from the law. The couple had been married by accident, having drunkenly taken part in a mock wedding at a tavern that was later deemed to have the force of law and sacrament. Unfortunately, the groom was already engaged to another woman. She, enraged, sought his arrest for breach of promise. The couple apparently lived a reasonable life in the church, assisted by sympathetic villagers. This story, although reasonably well substantiated, just seemed too odd to weave into my novel. You describe the man on whom Michael Mompellion was based, William Mompesson, as "heroic and saintly" and yet you also believe that Mompesson and his wife sent their two children away before quarantining the town. How do you justify your description of the real man? And do you think this knowledge influenced your depiction of the "darker side" of the Mompellion character? One of the fictional liberties I took with the story was a certain compression of timeframe. The plague was actually in the village for many weeks before the quarantine was agreed upon. Some people decided to send their children away into the care of relatives: there was nothing unethical in the Mompessons also choosing to do so. It was only as the epidemic really took hold that Mompesson saw the fearful virulence of the disease and became concerned about the consequences of its spread. There is nothing in the factual record to suggest that he behaved other than honorably throughout the village's terrible ordeal. However, in trying to imagine him—a young man, not long out of school, not long in a village where most of the Puritan-leaning population did not share his religious views, yet still persuasive enough to bring people to such a momentous choice—I envisioned a man of powerful conviction and charisma. Such personalities are sometimes governed by unwholesome motivations, such as the belief that they are God's infallible instruments. They can be dangerous, even deadly. Do you believe Anna is an unlikely heroine, given the rigid class structures of her time and her sex? Why did you choose to tell this story from Anna's point of view? Did your nonfictionÑand in particular your book Nine Parts of Desire, which deals with the lives of Muslim womenÑinfluence your decision? I wanted a narrator who was part of the ordinary life of the village, but also had access to the gentry, the decisionmakers. Since I knew that the real rector had a maid who survived the plague, she seemed the obvious choice. Anna's character and the changes it undergoes were suggested to me by the lives of women I had met during my years as a reporter in the Middle East and Africa—women who had lived lives that were highly circumscribed and restricted, until thrown into sudden turmoil by a crisis such as war or famine. These women would suddenly find themselves having to step out of their old roles and assume vastly challenging responsibilities. I saw women who had traveled enormous personal distances—traditional village women in Eritrea who became platoon leaders in the country's independence war; Kurdish women who led their families to safety over mined mountain passes after the failure of their uprising against Saddam Hussein. If those women could change and grow so remarkably, I reasoned that Anna could, too. And remember that the Restoration was a very fluid time. All the ancient certainties—the monarchy, the Church—had been challenged within these people's lifetime. They had lived through regicide, revolution, civil war. Change was their norm. In the 1660s, women were appearing on the stage for the first time, were assuming influential roles in the Restoration court. Also, life in the villages was much less rigid and restrictive than we often imagine. I read a lot of sermons while researching the novel, and it struck me that the amount of hectoring from the pulpit on the proper behavior of women probably reflected a widely held view that a lot of "improper" behavior was going on. In light of your research, can you put into perspective just how extraordinary the villagers' decision to quarantine themselves was? What was happening in London, for example, at the same time? The unique thing about Eyam's quarantine was that it was voluntary. I was able to find no other examples of such communal self-sacrifice. In London, Samuel Pepys writes in his journal of the terrible treatment meted out to plague victims: "We are become as cruel as dogs one to another." There, the houses of plague victims were sealed and guarded, locking in the well with the ill, with no one to bring food, water, or comfort of any kind. Pepys writes that you could hear the cries of the afflicted coming from the houses, which were marked with large red crosses and the words "God Have Mercy." In a piece published in The Washington Post after the September 11, 2001, attacks, you wrote: "Whether we also shall one day look back upon this year of flames, germs and war as a 'year of wonders' will depend, perhaps, on how many are able—like the passengers on United Flight 93 or the firefighters of New York City—to match the courageous self-sacrifice of the people of Eyam." Will you discuss the parallels you have drawn here? Eyam is a story of ordinary people willing to make an extraordinary sacrifice on behalf of others. September 11, 2001, revealed heroism in ordinary people who might have gone through their lives never called upon to demonstrate the extent of their courage. Sadly, it also revealed a blind thirst for revenge that led to the murders of a Muslim, a Sikh, and an Egyptian Copt. I have imagined this same instinct to turn on and blame "the other" in the lynching of the Gowdies. Love, hate, fear. The desire to live and to see your children live. Are these things different on a beautiful autumn morning in a twenty-first-century city than they were in an isolated seventeenthcentury village? I don't think so. One thing I believe completely is that the human heart remains the human heart, no matter how our material circumstances change as we move together through time.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. All of the characters in this novel have their failings and as a result they are all fully human. Are you
surprised by the secrets Elinor and Michael Mompellion each reveal to Anna about their marriage? How
do they change your feelings about each character? Do they make either seem weaker in a way?
2. The Bradford family bears the brunt of Mompellion's rage when they leave town to save themselves.
However, weren't they only doing what every other noble family did in those days: run because they had
the means to run? Setting aside the events near the end of the novel (which make it clear that one would
be hard-pressed to find a redeeming quality in any of them), can you really blame the Bradfords for
running?
3. How much of Mompellion's push for the quarantine had to do with the secrets he shared with Elinor? Did
his own dark side and self-loathing push him to sacrifice the town or was he really acting out of
everyone's best interests?
4. Keeping in mind that this story takes place a good twenty-five years before the Salem witch trials in
Massachusetts, what is the role of the Gowdie women in the novel? What is it about these women that
drives their neighbors to murderous rage? How does their nonconformity lead to their becoming
scapegoats?
5. How would you explain Anna's mental and spiritual unraveling? What are the pivotal experiences leading
up to her breakdown and her eventual rebirth?
6. Discuss the feminist undertones of the story. How does each female character—Anna, Elinor, the
Gowdies, and even Anna's stepmother—exhibit strengths that the male characters do not?
7. In a story where the outcome is already known from the very beginning—most of the villagers will die—
discuss the ways in which the author manages to create suspense.
8. The author creates an incredible sense of time and place with richly textured language and thoughtful
details—of both the ordinary (everyday life in Eyam) and the extraordinary (the gruesome deaths of the
villagers). Discuss some of the most vivid images and their importance to the story and to your own
experience reading it.
9. Can we relate the story of this town's extraordinary sacrifice to our own time? Is it unrealistic to expect a
village facing a similar threat to make the same decision nowadays? What lessons might we learn from
the villagers of Eyam?
AN INTERVIEW WITH GERALDINE BROOKS
In your afterword, you describe chancing upon Eyam and its terrible history while living in England in
1990. Can you tell us a bit about your research—for instance, what you uncovered about the townspeople
and perhaps didn't include in the novel for whatever reason? What about the difficulties of writing a story
that blends fiction with historical fact, especially given your journalistic, just-the-facts background?
The written record of what happened in Eyam during the plague year is scant. Apart from three letters by the
rector, no narrative account from the year itself actually exists. The "histories" that purport to record the facts were
actually written many years later, and historians have found inconsistencies that cast doubt on their accuracy.
Therefore, there was no way to write a satisfying nonfiction narrative. And, since the story had taken root in my
imagination, the only way to indulge my impulse to tell it was to take the leap into fiction. The factual basis of the
story was actually very helpful to me: it was like having the framing of the house already erected—I could see the
shape from the beginning. The things I decided not to use from the anecdotal accounts passed down over time
were those things that would have seemed most like implausible inventions. For example, a young couple is said
to have lived in the church around the plague time, seeking sanctuary from the law. The couple had been married
by accident, having drunkenly taken part in a mock wedding at a tavern that was later deemed to have the force
of law and sacrament. Unfortunately, the groom was already engaged to another woman. She, enraged, sought
his arrest for breach of promise. The couple apparently lived a reasonable life in the church, assisted by
sympathetic villagers. This story, although reasonably well substantiated, just seemed too odd to weave into my
novel.
You describe the man on whom Michael Mompellion was based, William Mompesson, as "heroic and
saintly" and yet you also believe that Mompesson and his wife sent their two children away before
quarantining the town. How do you justify your description of the real man? And do you think this
knowledge influenced your depiction of the "darker side" of the Mompellion character?
One of the fictional liberties I took with the story was a certain compression of timeframe. The plague was actually
in the village for many weeks before the quarantine was agreed upon. Some people decided to send their children
away into the care of relatives: there was nothing unethical in the Mompessons also choosing to do so. It was
only as the epidemic really took hold that Mompesson saw the fearful virulence of the disease and became
concerned about the consequences of its spread. There is nothing in the factual record to suggest that he
behaved other than honorably throughout the village's terrible ordeal. However, in trying to imagine him—a young
man, not long out of school, not long in a village where most of the Puritan-leaning population did not share his
religious views, yet still persuasive enough to bring people to such a momentous choice—I envisioned a man of
powerful conviction and charisma. Such personalities are sometimes governed by unwholesome motivations,
such as the belief that they are God's infallible instruments. They can be dangerous, even deadly.
Do you believe Anna is an unlikely heroine, given the rigid class structures of her time and her sex? Why
did you choose to tell this story from Anna's point of view? Did your nonfictionÑand in particular your
book Nine Parts of Desire, which deals with the lives of Muslim womenÑinfluence your decision?
I wanted a narrator who was part of the ordinary life of the village, but also had access to the gentry, the decisionmakers.
Since I knew that the real rector had a maid who survived the plague, she seemed the obvious choice.
Anna's character and the changes it undergoes were suggested to me by the lives of women I had met during my
years as a reporter in the Middle East and Africa—women who had lived lives that were highly circumscribed and
restricted, until thrown into sudden turmoil by a crisis such as war or famine. These women would suddenly find
themselves having to step out of their old roles and assume vastly challenging responsibilities. I saw women who
had traveled enormous personal distances—traditional village women in Eritrea who became platoon leaders in
the country's independence war; Kurdish women who led their families to safety over mined mountain passes
after the failure of their uprising against Saddam Hussein. If those women could change and grow so remarkably,
I reasoned that Anna could, too. And remember that the Restoration was a very fluid time. All the ancient
certainties—the monarchy, the Church—had been challenged within these people's lifetime. They had lived
through regicide, revolution, civil war. Change was their norm. In the 1660s, women were appearing on the stage
for the first time, were assuming influential roles in the Restoration court. Also, life in the villages was much less
rigid and restrictive than we often imagine. I read a lot of sermons while researching the novel, and it struck me
that the amount of hectoring from the pulpit on the proper behavior of women probably reflected a widely held
view that a lot of "improper" behavior was going on.
In light of your research, can you put into perspective just how extraordinary the villagers' decision to
quarantine themselves was? What was happening in London, for example, at the same time?
The unique thing about Eyam's quarantine was that it was voluntary. I was able to find no other examples of such
communal self-sacrifice. In London, Samuel Pepys writes in his journal of the terrible treatment meted out to
plague victims: "We are become as cruel as dogs one to another." There, the houses of plague victims were
sealed and guarded, locking in the well with the ill, with no one to bring food, water, or comfort of any kind. Pepys
writes that you could hear the cries of the afflicted coming from the houses, which were marked with large red
crosses and the words "God Have Mercy."
In a piece published in The Washington Post after the September 11, 2001, attacks, you wrote: "Whether
we also shall one day look back upon this year of flames, germs and war as a 'year of wonders' will
depend, perhaps, on how many are able—like the passengers on United Flight 93 or the firefighters of
New York City—to match the courageous self-sacrifice of the people of Eyam." Will you discuss the
parallels you have drawn here?
Eyam is a story of ordinary people willing to make an extraordinary sacrifice on behalf of others. September 11,
2001, revealed heroism in ordinary people who might have gone through their lives never called upon to
demonstrate the extent of their courage. Sadly, it also revealed a blind thirst for revenge that led to the murders of
a Muslim, a Sikh, and an Egyptian Copt. I have imagined this same instinct to turn on and blame "the other" in the
lynching of the Gowdies. Love, hate, fear. The desire to live and to see your children live. Are these things
different on a beautiful autumn morning in a twenty-first-century city than they were in an isolated seventeenthcentury
village? I don't think so. One thing I believe completely is that the human heart remains the human heart,
no matter how our material circumstances change as we move together through time.