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The Dolphin Ring Cycle #4
The Lantern Bearers
The Romans have abandoned Britain, leaving it open to the twin threats of civil war and Saxon invasion. When his home and all he loves are destroyed, Aquila endures years of torment before deciding to put some meaning back into his life.
307 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1959
About the author
Rosemary Sutcliff
109 books647 followersRosemary Sutcliff, CBE (1920-1992) was a British novelist, best known as a writer of highly acclaimed historical fiction. Although primarily a children's author, the quality and depth of her writing also appeals to adults. She once commented that she wrote "for children of all ages, from nine to ninety."
Born in West Clandon, Surrey, Sutcliff spent her early youth in Malta and other naval bases where her father was stationed as a naval officer. She contracted Still's Disease when she was very young and was confined to a wheelchair for most of her life. Due to her chronic sickness, she spent the majority of her time with her mother, a tireless storyteller, from whom she learned many of the Celtic and Saxon legends that she would later expand into works of historical fiction. Her early schooling being continually interrupted by moving house and her disabling condition, Sutcliff didn't learn to read until she was nine, and left school at fourteen to enter the Bideford Art School, which she attended for three years, graduating from the General Art Course. She then worked as a painter of miniatures.
Rosemary Sutcliff began her career as a writer in 1950 with The Chronicles of Robin Hood. She found her voice when she wrote The Eagle of the Ninth in 1954. In 1959, she won the Carnegie Medal for The Lantern Bearers and was runner-up in 1972 with Tristan and Iseult. In 1974 she was highly commended for the Hans Christian Andersen Award. Her The Mark of the Horse Lord won the first Phoenix Award in 1985.
Sutcliff lived for many years in Walberton near Arundel, Sussex. In 1975 she was appointed OBE for services to Children's Literature and promoted to CBE in 1992. She wrote incessantly throughout her life, and was still writing on the morning of her death. She never married.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/rosema...
Born in West Clandon, Surrey, Sutcliff spent her early youth in Malta and other naval bases where her father was stationed as a naval officer. She contracted Still's Disease when she was very young and was confined to a wheelchair for most of her life. Due to her chronic sickness, she spent the majority of her time with her mother, a tireless storyteller, from whom she learned many of the Celtic and Saxon legends that she would later expand into works of historical fiction. Her early schooling being continually interrupted by moving house and her disabling condition, Sutcliff didn't learn to read until she was nine, and left school at fourteen to enter the Bideford Art School, which she attended for three years, graduating from the General Art Course. She then worked as a painter of miniatures.
Rosemary Sutcliff began her career as a writer in 1950 with The Chronicles of Robin Hood. She found her voice when she wrote The Eagle of the Ninth in 1954. In 1959, she won the Carnegie Medal for The Lantern Bearers and was runner-up in 1972 with Tristan and Iseult. In 1974 she was highly commended for the Hans Christian Andersen Award. Her The Mark of the Horse Lord won the first Phoenix Award in 1985.
Sutcliff lived for many years in Walberton near Arundel, Sussex. In 1975 she was appointed OBE for services to Children's Literature and promoted to CBE in 1992. She wrote incessantly throughout her life, and was still writing on the morning of her death. She never married.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/rosema...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 238 reviews
January 18, 2020
Part of a trilogy set in Roman Britain which I loved. Written for teen agers but as an adult I enjoyed the whole trilogy. It will always stay on my shelves. I compared books by this author on Roman Britain with books by Henry Treece for my final dissertation at teacher training college.. Although I enjoyed the books written by both authors, Rosemary's books came first for me. I highly recommend these books to any reader who enjoys historical fiction books about Roman Britain.
March 20, 2016
Rosemary Sutcliff's books so often bring a strange, tearful, lovely lump to my throat, and a strange, gut-wrenching mist to my eyes that tugs at my heart strings so beautifully. How does she do it, I wonder?
'I sometimes think that we stand at sunset,' Eugenus said after a pause. 'It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows again out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.'
This line, coming from the tail end of this book, is one of the exact reasons through themes that I liked this book so, so much! It is hard to place its poignancy and quiet, tragic splendor into words, or pry with rough fingers too deeply, lest the harp-magic and golden sadness of it all crumbles. But Sutcliff writes magnificently, sadly, achingly, and so often I felt a dull sense of sadness with Aquila and the rest at the thought of how it must have been for the Romans to leave, abandon, Britain and let them fend off the Saxons alone. I didn't know, when I started this book, where Aquila's story would take him.Unfamiliar as I am with this part of British Roman history, I drank in the strong history storyline, wondering with pounding heart what *does* happen. The story is written, in typical Sutcliff fashion, in an understated way. But oh! So poignant and moving. And the characters. . .at first I thought I would be unhappy with the way Aquila seemed to live in constant bitterness. . . and yet, I understood his pain, and in the end, and through the gentle brown Holy Man, a Christian monk, he does find an eventual healing and balm for the soul that made me quietly glad. Sutcliffe extells in characters. . . there is Flavia, and there is Ness and Mannow - Dolphin's son, Artos, the gentle monk, Mull and the Prince of Britain. . . so many characters that warmed my heart and made me love them like old friends.
Now, I must lay my hand on another Rosemary Sutcliff! Any suggestions?
'I sometimes think that we stand at sunset,' Eugenus said after a pause. 'It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows again out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.'
This line, coming from the tail end of this book, is one of the exact reasons through themes that I liked this book so, so much! It is hard to place its poignancy and quiet, tragic splendor into words, or pry with rough fingers too deeply, lest the harp-magic and golden sadness of it all crumbles. But Sutcliff writes magnificently, sadly, achingly, and so often I felt a dull sense of sadness with Aquila and the rest at the thought of how it must have been for the Romans to leave, abandon, Britain and let them fend off the Saxons alone. I didn't know, when I started this book, where Aquila's story would take him.Unfamiliar as I am with this part of British Roman history, I drank in the strong history storyline, wondering with pounding heart what *does* happen. The story is written, in typical Sutcliff fashion, in an understated way. But oh! So poignant and moving. And the characters. . .at first I thought I would be unhappy with the way Aquila seemed to live in constant bitterness. . . and yet, I understood his pain, and in the end, and through the gentle brown Holy Man, a Christian monk, he does find an eventual healing and balm for the soul that made me quietly glad. Sutcliffe extells in characters. . . there is Flavia, and there is Ness and Mannow - Dolphin's son, Artos, the gentle monk, Mull and the Prince of Britain. . . so many characters that warmed my heart and made me love them like old friends.
Now, I must lay my hand on another Rosemary Sutcliff! Any suggestions?
April 10, 2019
"We are the Lantern Bearers . . ."
There are no words worthy to sum up such a deeply and achingly glorious, beautiful, and profound story as The Lantern Bearers by Rosemary Sutcliff. It's an incredibly powerful tale of light, hope, life, and healing found amid darkness, despair, tragedy, and pain. There's such beauty to be found in this story--a heartwrenching beauty that comes through pain and sadness and darkness--but one that's all the more deeply beautiful because of them. And the same is true of the bittersweet joy the book contains.
Note: There are minor spoilers throughout this review. Major spoilers are in spoiler tags.
Content information is listed at the end of this review.
The Lantern Bearers is the gripping story of one young man's journey from light through sudden, lasting, overwhelming darkness, loss, and tragedy. It's the story of how, piece by piece and layer by layer, he begins finally to find life and light and healing once again. It's the story of what it means to hold on to humanity in the midst of oppression. It's the story of a family lost and torn apart, and of a new family forged against all odds. It's a story of how every time the world seems to end, taking all life and meaning with it as it's overcome by darkness, life and light still go on shining. And it's a story of forgiveness and peace conquering half a lifetime of hate and bitterness.
While it's not my top favorite of Miss Sutcliff's novels, The Lantern Bearers comes very close to that honor, and it's grown on me as I've matured and become used to its sadness. I like and enjoy my top two favorites, The Eagle of the Ninth and The Silver Branch, slightly more, possibly because they're lighter and brighter despite some darkness, while still containing incredible depth and vividness of character and theme. But The Lantern Bearers is solidly in third place, a hair behind those two.
And in my estimation, I've realized that The Lantern Bearers is her best book in many ways, and I can see why many fans count it as their top favorite, by far. Because The Lantern Bearers has infinitely more depth and beauty even than Sutcliff's many other deep and beautiful works. The darkness and the pain it contains make the light and life stand out as all the more shining and precious. And the brutal tragedy that bruises my heart also gives an opportunity to explore thoughts, feelings, and themes that are possibly much more profound even than Sutcliff’s usual wonderful writing.
Even the title of The Lantern Bearers attests to its deep, shining, thoughtful beauty and themes. Far more than any other Sutcliff book, the title is wrapped up and the themes and symbols that are woven throughout the book, woven with incredible meaning and beauty. In several places throughout The Lantern Bearers, the events of the story represent--even in a physical, literal sense--what it means to hold up a light in the midst of overwhelming darkness. Some of my favorite quotes in the book are when wise and far-seeing characters point this out.
The characters of The Lantern Bearers, though bitter and flawed, are much of what makes the book so wonderful and deep and beautiful--especially the protagonist, Aquila, because of his compelling story and journey. Sutcliff makes me care so deeply about them all, even though many of them are not likeable or nice--especially the most prominent characters, who I care about most--and I even care strangely about at least one of the mildly antagonistic characters, while hating the more evil antagonists. But I care most of all for Aquila and the people close to him. We watch Aquila and the rest go through pain, but at the end of it all, we also see them find life and healing after the tragedy. And we watch them walk the road set before them, doing everything they can to fight for the light and "hold back the dark."
Aquila's journey is a fascinating, raw, and powerful one, and because Aquila himself is a fascinating character with a fascinating life story, it grips me every time I read it, as I described at the beginning of this review. There are so many nuanced sides to him, and he's so real, and so vivid, and so fiery. It's easy for me to engage with and connect to him even though he's so different from me.
This last reread, it was so intriguing, heartbreaking, and painfully bittersweet for me to go back to the beginning of Aquila's story after already intimately knowing the rest. To see who he was originally, before tragedy changed him--happy, loving, easygoing, cheerful, affectionate, quick to smile, healthy, and well-adjusted--because later on, he's the opposite of all those things. I paid more attention to it this time than ever before--and it made me emotional from the first page. When reading The Lantern Bearers for the third time, in even in the single freely happy chapter at the very start of the book, I was already near tears anticipating what was coming, and the destruction of Aquila's joy and all that he loved, and how that loss changed him. It's fascinating to see that development, but, most of all, heartbreaking. Afterward, he's still the same person inside, but he's been broken and turned bitter. It's interesting to see that his personality had the potential for both, even at the beginning--that he was the type of person who would react to tragedy by becoming bitter, though he chose to allow it. He was always made of sparks, and later on, they would constantly burn and torment him inside--and occasionally flare outward.
As it does every time since I first read his story at age 15, my heart broke to once again watch Aquila become a deeply bitter, angry, and vengeful young man, tormented by hate and rage and unforgiveness. My first two times reading it, I was almost shocked and horrified and discouraged by how sad his story is, and the horrible things he goes through, and the person he becomes. Always and still, I have longed for him to find peace and healing--and he does find it, in some form, though not for a long, long time. But I was ready for it this time, and I think I enjoyed it more, in spite of and including the sadness.
And this year, on my third, most recent read of The Lantern Bearers, I finally came to realize that I dearly love and even like Aquila. I'm not sure whether I did before, and I consciously thought that I didn't, even though I've always cared about him very deeply, and appreciated him as a character. I think I used to see the bitterness, most of all. But there's more to him than a bitter, angry young man. Before and even after he became that way. It broke my heart to watch him in his angriest, most bitter moment, before he begins to let go of some of the hate--but that was actually the moment I realized I love him, because I want more for him than the empty life he had at that point.
And yes, there is more to him than that. Even though he's closed off his heart, he still has deep love there, buried far down inside his heart. That love is part of why he's tormented so badly. And why he's so bitter and vengeful and unforgiving. Nothing excuses the person he became. But I understand how he became that way, and I respect him for trying to change. The fact that I love and care about him means I tolerate his deep flaws and unkind behavior far less than I would if I didn't care. I don't tolerate them at all, and they sadden me. I care about him enough to want him to change, to root for him as he finally does, and to hold him to his actions, their consequences, and the requirement to make amends.
Becoming such a bitter person involves a choice to react a certain way, a choice to allow oneself to become that person, and a choice not to fight to hold onto the opposite life. It's a choice to remain that way, even when it's eating him up inside and hurting the people he should protect. But it's also a choice to grow and change from that person into someone better, to realize the destructive effect it's having on him and those closest to him, and to do something about it. Aquila made the first choices, and only he can make the last one. And it's hard. But worth it.
Because what's even sadder than the effect of Aquila's life experience on himself--as a solitary lone wolf who stays far away from human closeness--is the effect his bitterness has on the people closest to him, once he's forced to form lasting bonds he avoided for so long.
This is a story centered around Aquila and his family relationships. It's about his reaction to the destruction and loss of the family he grew up with. And it's even more about how he damages, neglects, and rejects the remnant of his old family members and relationships--as well as the ones he gains later on.
But it's also a story of how there's hope and healing and life to be found even in the deepest darkness. It's a story of how even the things that are most damaged and broken can be healed and regained.
Of how the fight goes on even when the battle seems lost--with relationships as well as other things. And eventually, Aquila learns—imperfectly--to fight for his relationships as well as his nation. He realizes they're of great worth, and how he's hurt them.
Aquila's family members and his relationships with them are just as gripping as Aquila himself. The story centers around them along with him, particularly Flavia and Ness. I'm also fascinated by the contrast and similarity between Aquila's two families--the one he grew up with, and the one he gained later on.
Most important are the relationships Aquila has with Flavia, his sister, and Ness, . Ness and Flavia are each totally unique and different, but similar in many ways. I think Aquila must have sensed that, deep down--though if he'd known it consciously, he would have stayed far away from Ness. All three are very fiery and wild, but in different ways. Both young women seem to be made of sparks, as Aquila is himself. Aquila's sparks are the restrained, dry, sharp kind that come from constant, intense friction. With Flavia, it's sparks of bright, shining laughter--and Ness's kind of sparks are rougher and earthier and more stubborn. And the two young women are alike in other ways--in what happened to them, in the all-important choice they both made, in the singing Aquila notices in them both, and even in complexion. They're very different, of course, and unique--but the intentional parallels are so interesting and bittersweet.
And they're also alike in that both Flavia and Ness have incredibly deep and significant influence on Aquila. He loves them both, even when
Growing up with Flavia influenced the person Aquila was his whole life. I love seeing their wonderful relationship at the beginning of the book, and I ache to see their pain later on. It was painfully bittersweet for me to see again the vivid, wonderful portrayal of their affectionate relationship in the first chapter. It's an intensely precious, sweet, pure, joyful, comfortable, and lively sibling relationship, and I love it--even though it brings me pain to see it, because of what's coming. It's rare that Sutcliff writes siblings--her books are usually populated by wonderful cousin relationships--but she makes up for that with Aquila and Flavia. They have such a beautiful relationship, and they are devoted to each other--close, lifelong best friends, even closer than me and my wonderful brothers. Their deep familial love is so evident in the way they joke and laugh and talk together, or just sit comfortably and contentedly side by side. It brings me joy to see it. But it also breaks my heart to see this bright, devoted love between the brother and sister as they enjoy each other--because I know they'll be torn apart very soon.
And after Aquila changed into someone nearly unrecognizable from the young Aquila, Ness was the one who helped him slowly change into a better person.
Another pair of relationships is similar in its parallels--Aquila's relationship with his father mirrors his relationship with , later on. In both relationships, there's a connection and loyalty and similarity between the individuals that take part. But the two relationships are also opposite in many ways. The former is built on love and friendship, and the latter is often cold and not particularly loving--though there is a love there--just buried deep and not expressed. Aquila desperately wishes the second relationship to be like the one he had with his father--but he fails, and he knows that and regrets it. It's even more painful to see him fail when he knows he's failing. The contrast between the man Aquila is and the man his father was is sad and stark. And my heart aches to see it.
As I discussed, Aquila fails in many ways, and becomes a worse person before he becomes better--which disappoints me. However, he becomes great in other ways, and in the life he makes for himself. Aquila works to become excellent at what he does--training men and horses, and becoming a successful military commander and leader of men. He already possesses the drive and passion to fight for what he believes in--to preserve his country and protect his people, when the enemy is threatening to stamp them out of existence. He is an incredibly hard worker, and he goes far because of it. I don't know if I fully realized before the contrast between his position in life at the end of The Lantern Bearersand the place he started after his old life was destroyed. And because I care about him, it makes me happy and proud to see him succeed. Though others helped him along the way--including a kind stranger who changed his life--Aquila could not have succeeded without a lifetime of hard work. Aquila took the rags of an empty, broken life and fought to make a better life for himself--with the help of others, but at the core, by his own work and effort. I was amazed to see that the words of another character were true: "You are a great man among your own people." And Aquila is, after it all. Even though he started as That's impressive. And it makes me really proud and glad to see it. To see him as a man of authority who is respected by the men around him, above him, and under him--a great leader and warrior. He's failed for many years in many ways--especially the most important ways, until later--but in that way, he's been incredibly, admirably successful.
But what means even more than seeing Aquila as a great man in his position in society--is his realization at the end of The Lantern Bearers that his life is great and rich in the ways that count the most. His family is what matters. And he finally realizes that. ...
Because of limited space, this lengthy review is continued below--along with a content review for those who are interested.
There are no words worthy to sum up such a deeply and achingly glorious, beautiful, and profound story as The Lantern Bearers by Rosemary Sutcliff. It's an incredibly powerful tale of light, hope, life, and healing found amid darkness, despair, tragedy, and pain. There's such beauty to be found in this story--a heartwrenching beauty that comes through pain and sadness and darkness--but one that's all the more deeply beautiful because of them. And the same is true of the bittersweet joy the book contains.
Note: There are minor spoilers throughout this review. Major spoilers are in spoiler tags.
Content information is listed at the end of this review.
The Lantern Bearers is the gripping story of one young man's journey from light through sudden, lasting, overwhelming darkness, loss, and tragedy. It's the story of how, piece by piece and layer by layer, he begins finally to find life and light and healing once again. It's the story of what it means to hold on to humanity in the midst of oppression. It's the story of a family lost and torn apart, and of a new family forged against all odds. It's a story of how every time the world seems to end, taking all life and meaning with it as it's overcome by darkness, life and light still go on shining. And it's a story of forgiveness and peace conquering half a lifetime of hate and bitterness.
While it's not my top favorite of Miss Sutcliff's novels, The Lantern Bearers comes very close to that honor, and it's grown on me as I've matured and become used to its sadness. I like and enjoy my top two favorites, The Eagle of the Ninth and The Silver Branch, slightly more, possibly because they're lighter and brighter despite some darkness, while still containing incredible depth and vividness of character and theme. But The Lantern Bearers is solidly in third place, a hair behind those two.
And in my estimation, I've realized that The Lantern Bearers is her best book in many ways, and I can see why many fans count it as their top favorite, by far. Because The Lantern Bearers has infinitely more depth and beauty even than Sutcliff's many other deep and beautiful works. The darkness and the pain it contains make the light and life stand out as all the more shining and precious. And the brutal tragedy that bruises my heart also gives an opportunity to explore thoughts, feelings, and themes that are possibly much more profound even than Sutcliff’s usual wonderful writing.
Even the title of The Lantern Bearers attests to its deep, shining, thoughtful beauty and themes. Far more than any other Sutcliff book, the title is wrapped up and the themes and symbols that are woven throughout the book, woven with incredible meaning and beauty. In several places throughout The Lantern Bearers, the events of the story represent--even in a physical, literal sense--what it means to hold up a light in the midst of overwhelming darkness. Some of my favorite quotes in the book are when wise and far-seeing characters point this out.
The characters of The Lantern Bearers, though bitter and flawed, are much of what makes the book so wonderful and deep and beautiful--especially the protagonist, Aquila, because of his compelling story and journey. Sutcliff makes me care so deeply about them all, even though many of them are not likeable or nice--especially the most prominent characters, who I care about most--and I even care strangely about at least one of the mildly antagonistic characters, while hating the more evil antagonists. But I care most of all for Aquila and the people close to him. We watch Aquila and the rest go through pain, but at the end of it all, we also see them find life and healing after the tragedy. And we watch them walk the road set before them, doing everything they can to fight for the light and "hold back the dark."
Aquila's journey is a fascinating, raw, and powerful one, and because Aquila himself is a fascinating character with a fascinating life story, it grips me every time I read it, as I described at the beginning of this review. There are so many nuanced sides to him, and he's so real, and so vivid, and so fiery. It's easy for me to engage with and connect to him even though he's so different from me.
This last reread, it was so intriguing, heartbreaking, and painfully bittersweet for me to go back to the beginning of Aquila's story after already intimately knowing the rest. To see who he was originally, before tragedy changed him--happy, loving, easygoing, cheerful, affectionate, quick to smile, healthy, and well-adjusted--because later on, he's the opposite of all those things. I paid more attention to it this time than ever before--and it made me emotional from the first page. When reading The Lantern Bearers for the third time, in even in the single freely happy chapter at the very start of the book, I was already near tears anticipating what was coming, and the destruction of Aquila's joy and all that he loved, and how that loss changed him. It's fascinating to see that development, but, most of all, heartbreaking. Afterward, he's still the same person inside, but he's been broken and turned bitter. It's interesting to see that his personality had the potential for both, even at the beginning--that he was the type of person who would react to tragedy by becoming bitter, though he chose to allow it. He was always made of sparks, and later on, they would constantly burn and torment him inside--and occasionally flare outward.
As it does every time since I first read his story at age 15, my heart broke to once again watch Aquila become a deeply bitter, angry, and vengeful young man, tormented by hate and rage and unforgiveness. My first two times reading it, I was almost shocked and horrified and discouraged by how sad his story is, and the horrible things he goes through, and the person he becomes. Always and still, I have longed for him to find peace and healing--and he does find it, in some form, though not for a long, long time. But I was ready for it this time, and I think I enjoyed it more, in spite of and including the sadness.
And this year, on my third, most recent read of The Lantern Bearers, I finally came to realize that I dearly love and even like Aquila. I'm not sure whether I did before, and I consciously thought that I didn't, even though I've always cared about him very deeply, and appreciated him as a character. I think I used to see the bitterness, most of all. But there's more to him than a bitter, angry young man. Before and even after he became that way. It broke my heart to watch him in his angriest, most bitter moment, before he begins to let go of some of the hate--but that was actually the moment I realized I love him, because I want more for him than the empty life he had at that point.
And yes, there is more to him than that. Even though he's closed off his heart, he still has deep love there, buried far down inside his heart. That love is part of why he's tormented so badly. And why he's so bitter and vengeful and unforgiving. Nothing excuses the person he became. But I understand how he became that way, and I respect him for trying to change. The fact that I love and care about him means I tolerate his deep flaws and unkind behavior far less than I would if I didn't care. I don't tolerate them at all, and they sadden me. I care about him enough to want him to change, to root for him as he finally does, and to hold him to his actions, their consequences, and the requirement to make amends.
Becoming such a bitter person involves a choice to react a certain way, a choice to allow oneself to become that person, and a choice not to fight to hold onto the opposite life. It's a choice to remain that way, even when it's eating him up inside and hurting the people he should protect. But it's also a choice to grow and change from that person into someone better, to realize the destructive effect it's having on him and those closest to him, and to do something about it. Aquila made the first choices, and only he can make the last one. And it's hard. But worth it.
Because what's even sadder than the effect of Aquila's life experience on himself--as a solitary lone wolf who stays far away from human closeness--is the effect his bitterness has on the people closest to him, once he's forced to form lasting bonds he avoided for so long.
This is a story centered around Aquila and his family relationships. It's about his reaction to the destruction and loss of the family he grew up with. And it's even more about how he damages, neglects, and rejects the remnant of his old family members and relationships--as well as the ones he gains later on.
But it's also a story of how there's hope and healing and life to be found even in the deepest darkness. It's a story of how even the things that are most damaged and broken can be healed and regained.
Of how the fight goes on even when the battle seems lost--with relationships as well as other things. And eventually, Aquila learns—imperfectly--to fight for his relationships as well as his nation. He realizes they're of great worth, and how he's hurt them.
Aquila's family members and his relationships with them are just as gripping as Aquila himself. The story centers around them along with him, particularly Flavia and Ness. I'm also fascinated by the contrast and similarity between Aquila's two families--the one he grew up with, and the one he gained later on.
Most important are the relationships Aquila has with Flavia, his sister, and Ness, . Ness and Flavia are each totally unique and different, but similar in many ways. I think Aquila must have sensed that, deep down--though if he'd known it consciously, he would have stayed far away from Ness. All three are very fiery and wild, but in different ways. Both young women seem to be made of sparks, as Aquila is himself. Aquila's sparks are the restrained, dry, sharp kind that come from constant, intense friction. With Flavia, it's sparks of bright, shining laughter--and Ness's kind of sparks are rougher and earthier and more stubborn. And the two young women are alike in other ways--in what happened to them, in the all-important choice they both made, in the singing Aquila notices in them both, and even in complexion. They're very different, of course, and unique--but the intentional parallels are so interesting and bittersweet.
And they're also alike in that both Flavia and Ness have incredibly deep and significant influence on Aquila. He loves them both, even when
Growing up with Flavia influenced the person Aquila was his whole life. I love seeing their wonderful relationship at the beginning of the book, and I ache to see their pain later on. It was painfully bittersweet for me to see again the vivid, wonderful portrayal of their affectionate relationship in the first chapter. It's an intensely precious, sweet, pure, joyful, comfortable, and lively sibling relationship, and I love it--even though it brings me pain to see it, because of what's coming. It's rare that Sutcliff writes siblings--her books are usually populated by wonderful cousin relationships--but she makes up for that with Aquila and Flavia. They have such a beautiful relationship, and they are devoted to each other--close, lifelong best friends, even closer than me and my wonderful brothers. Their deep familial love is so evident in the way they joke and laugh and talk together, or just sit comfortably and contentedly side by side. It brings me joy to see it. But it also breaks my heart to see this bright, devoted love between the brother and sister as they enjoy each other--because I know they'll be torn apart very soon.
And after Aquila changed into someone nearly unrecognizable from the young Aquila, Ness was the one who helped him slowly change into a better person.
Another pair of relationships is similar in its parallels--Aquila's relationship with his father mirrors his relationship with , later on. In both relationships, there's a connection and loyalty and similarity between the individuals that take part. But the two relationships are also opposite in many ways. The former is built on love and friendship, and the latter is often cold and not particularly loving--though there is a love there--just buried deep and not expressed. Aquila desperately wishes the second relationship to be like the one he had with his father--but he fails, and he knows that and regrets it. It's even more painful to see him fail when he knows he's failing. The contrast between the man Aquila is and the man his father was is sad and stark. And my heart aches to see it.
As I discussed, Aquila fails in many ways, and becomes a worse person before he becomes better--which disappoints me. However, he becomes great in other ways, and in the life he makes for himself. Aquila works to become excellent at what he does--training men and horses, and becoming a successful military commander and leader of men. He already possesses the drive and passion to fight for what he believes in--to preserve his country and protect his people, when the enemy is threatening to stamp them out of existence. He is an incredibly hard worker, and he goes far because of it. I don't know if I fully realized before the contrast between his position in life at the end of The Lantern Bearersand the place he started after his old life was destroyed. And because I care about him, it makes me happy and proud to see him succeed. Though others helped him along the way--including a kind stranger who changed his life--Aquila could not have succeeded without a lifetime of hard work. Aquila took the rags of an empty, broken life and fought to make a better life for himself--with the help of others, but at the core, by his own work and effort. I was amazed to see that the words of another character were true: "You are a great man among your own people." And Aquila is, after it all. Even though he started as That's impressive. And it makes me really proud and glad to see it. To see him as a man of authority who is respected by the men around him, above him, and under him--a great leader and warrior. He's failed for many years in many ways--especially the most important ways, until later--but in that way, he's been incredibly, admirably successful.
But what means even more than seeing Aquila as a great man in his position in society--is his realization at the end of The Lantern Bearers that his life is great and rich in the ways that count the most. His family is what matters. And he finally realizes that. ...
Because of limited space, this lengthy review is continued below--along with a content review for those who are interested.
April 26, 2019
Britain, late 4th Century A.D.
Aquila is in the Roman Army. When word reaches Britain that all troops have been recalled to fortify the city of Rome against continental barbarians, Aquila expects to ship out with the rest of the soldiers. But the young man can’t bear to leave his elderly father and younger sister, so he slips away and runs home, lighting the beacon at Rutupiae (present-day Richborough) for the last time.
Our hero feels guilty for abandoning his post, but he feels no connection to Rome. If he must die, he would rather perish protecting his family. No sooner has he returned than the Saxons invade, killing his father and servants, carrying off his sister Flavia, and leaving Aquila himself tied up for the beasts to devour. From here he is found by a Jutish raiding party and brought to Jutland (now Denmark) in chains, saved from death but forced into slavery.
After three years, Aquila is brought back to Britain to serve his Norse warlord master. He schemes to escape, avenge his father, and rescue Flavia if she still lives. But this Britain has nothing in common with the Britain he left behind…
Content Advisory
Violence: Several battles, none overly graphic. Usually the reader only hears about the deaths rather than see them happen. One of the fatalities is Aquila’s father’s dog, who defended her human to the last. That part made me cry.
It’s implied that Flavia was raped after being taken captive. When her brother offers escape, she decides to stay with the Saxon man who took her for a wife, and the child they have together.
Flavian the younger gets flung from his horse and grievously wounded.
Sex: Nothing.
Language: Nothing.
Substance Abuse: Much boisterous boozing at feasts, as befits the setting.
Nightmare Fuel: Sutcliff manages to make an owl flying out of the woods sound terrifying.
Politics and Religion: The most moral character in the book is Brother Ninnias, who removes Aquila’s slave collar and beseeches him not to seek vengeance, a lesson our protagonist has to learn for himself.
Conclusions
Every entry in Sutcliff’s Dolphin Ring saga is more impressive than the last. The Lantern Bearers might be my favorite so far.
When Aquila bails on the army and flees back to the ancestral farmstead, I assumed he’d get a few chapters with his dad and sister while Sutcliff lulled her readers into a false sense of security. He doesn’t even get one whole chapter. The family we got to know so well in the first three-and-a-half chapters are torn asunder by the fourth.
The speed of the book testifies to Sutcliff’s storytelling skills. The novel is short, and even the small characters like Thormod and Rowena are memorable.
And so many twists! I really could not predict the directions this story took.
The message is sad, the journey Aquila takes on is profound.
While it’s labeled “juvenile fiction” and contains no sex or gore, the subject matter is not particularly appropriate or accessible for children. Warmly recommended for teens and adults. And look out for a fun Arthurian cameo!
Aquila is in the Roman Army. When word reaches Britain that all troops have been recalled to fortify the city of Rome against continental barbarians, Aquila expects to ship out with the rest of the soldiers. But the young man can’t bear to leave his elderly father and younger sister, so he slips away and runs home, lighting the beacon at Rutupiae (present-day Richborough) for the last time.
Our hero feels guilty for abandoning his post, but he feels no connection to Rome. If he must die, he would rather perish protecting his family. No sooner has he returned than the Saxons invade, killing his father and servants, carrying off his sister Flavia, and leaving Aquila himself tied up for the beasts to devour. From here he is found by a Jutish raiding party and brought to Jutland (now Denmark) in chains, saved from death but forced into slavery.
After three years, Aquila is brought back to Britain to serve his Norse warlord master. He schemes to escape, avenge his father, and rescue Flavia if she still lives. But this Britain has nothing in common with the Britain he left behind…
Content Advisory
Violence: Several battles, none overly graphic. Usually the reader only hears about the deaths rather than see them happen. One of the fatalities is Aquila’s father’s dog, who defended her human to the last. That part made me cry.
It’s implied that Flavia was raped after being taken captive. When her brother offers escape, she decides to stay with the Saxon man who took her for a wife, and the child they have together.
Flavian the younger gets flung from his horse and grievously wounded.
Sex: Nothing.
Language: Nothing.
Substance Abuse: Much boisterous boozing at feasts, as befits the setting.
Nightmare Fuel: Sutcliff manages to make an owl flying out of the woods sound terrifying.
Politics and Religion: The most moral character in the book is Brother Ninnias, who removes Aquila’s slave collar and beseeches him not to seek vengeance, a lesson our protagonist has to learn for himself.
Conclusions
Every entry in Sutcliff’s Dolphin Ring saga is more impressive than the last. The Lantern Bearers might be my favorite so far.
When Aquila bails on the army and flees back to the ancestral farmstead, I assumed he’d get a few chapters with his dad and sister while Sutcliff lulled her readers into a false sense of security. He doesn’t even get one whole chapter. The family we got to know so well in the first three-and-a-half chapters are torn asunder by the fourth.
The speed of the book testifies to Sutcliff’s storytelling skills. The novel is short, and even the small characters like Thormod and Rowena are memorable.
And so many twists! I really could not predict the directions this story took.
The message is sad, the journey Aquila takes on is profound.
While it’s labeled “juvenile fiction” and contains no sex or gore, the subject matter is not particularly appropriate or accessible for children. Warmly recommended for teens and adults. And look out for a fun Arthurian cameo!
April 21, 2011
Boys' Own melancholia, immensely sad and bittersweet. It's interesting that a story that pits the ~British~ against vile marauding Saxons (how Tolkien would have frowned) should consistently strike a note of such Nordic stoicism, the urging of the fight in the face of all honour and chance of glory lost. But in a very English way, what could be more sentimental? This novel could only have been written after two World Wars, after all.
I love Sutcliff's version of Arthuriana (the young Celtic-Roman Arthur is a supporting character in this book). I also really enjoyed her grave, uncompromising style, working with the same resources again and again to enhance the rhythm of the narrative through repetition. I'm more discomfitted than I can explain immediately by the replacement of her slight, bromance-y young Romans with the solemn, aggrieved Turin Turambar-like figure (with some key differences) who is the protagonist of the story. The Lantern Bearers is significantly darker than The Silver Branch, which in its turn was much darker than The Eagle of the Ninth -- indeed, a third of the way through the youngest Aquila's fate, you can only think wistfully back to Marcus and Esca scrabbling through marshlands pretending to be oculists in wistful remembrance of how jolly it must all have been.
I'm never a fan of the narrative of civilisational decline, which is why my whole approach to this project of Sutcliff's has been unserious in the first place. But she also says, I think early on in the Eagle of the Ninth, that what may be unthinkable for a society is possible for an individual, when she talks about Esca and Marcus bridging the gulf between them. So I see why it becomes possible, even thinkable, to read the loose sequence of destiny that binds Marcus to Justin and Flavius and J & F to Aquila for themselves, as a narrative of transformation. Which is something quite different.
I love Sutcliff's version of Arthuriana (the young Celtic-Roman Arthur is a supporting character in this book). I also really enjoyed her grave, uncompromising style, working with the same resources again and again to enhance the rhythm of the narrative through repetition. I'm more discomfitted than I can explain immediately by the replacement of her slight, bromance-y young Romans with the solemn, aggrieved Turin Turambar-like figure (with some key differences) who is the protagonist of the story. The Lantern Bearers is significantly darker than The Silver Branch, which in its turn was much darker than The Eagle of the Ninth -- indeed, a third of the way through the youngest Aquila's fate, you can only think wistfully back to Marcus and Esca scrabbling through marshlands pretending to be oculists in wistful remembrance of how jolly it must all have been.
I'm never a fan of the narrative of civilisational decline, which is why my whole approach to this project of Sutcliff's has been unserious in the first place. But she also says, I think early on in the Eagle of the Ninth, that what may be unthinkable for a society is possible for an individual, when she talks about Esca and Marcus bridging the gulf between them. So I see why it becomes possible, even thinkable, to read the loose sequence of destiny that binds Marcus to Justin and Flavius and J & F to Aquila for themselves, as a narrative of transformation. Which is something quite different.
February 21, 2021
"Why should a deserter take the trouble to light Rutupiae Beacon?" Aquila demanded, and his voice sounded rough in his own ears.
"Maybe in farewell, maybe in defiance. Maybe to hold back the dark for one more night."
I've come to the conclusion that Rosemary Sutcliff, on the whole, is not for me. I've read three of her books, and while I do appreciate the subtlety and narrative power of her writing, I haven't loved any of her work. Moreover, while this is definitely the worst I've encountered so far, I tend to dislike (or, at the very least, be uninterested in) some or all of the themes she chooses to write about in the first place. So I think I just need to let this author go and stop trying to make fetch happen, as it were. I'll have to enjoy her vicariously through my Sutcliff-loving friends. 🙂
As for my thoughts on The Lantern Bearers, specifically:
Here's the problem.
As if all this isn't enough, it is Extremely Sketchy to make it a plot point that both of your trauma survivors "grow to love" their abusers, without ever clarifying that this is the response of someone suffering from Stockholm syndrome or the like. Please do not romanticize nonconsensual relationships. Just do not.
I understand that a full exploration of rape culture and patriarchy would be beyond the thematic scope of a story primarily focused on a land war. I get that. I wouldn't fault Sutcliff for never addressing misogyny within the story to begin with. But I do fault her for inserting it and then failing to thoroughly deal with it.
The book has some truly moving moments, and it's not without redemption. But it is without complete redemption, and the issues that need redeeming are too significant to get away with a rough draft version.
March 1, 2017
Set in Britain at the time on Rome's withdrawal.
Aquila is a decurion who deserts, unable to leave his family, hiding as the boats leaving Britain pull away.
Returning home, the family's small homestead is attacked by Saxons, everyone killed except for Aquila and his sister Flavia. Made a thrall, Aquila bides his time until he can escape and join Ambrosius in Cymru (Wales).
Rosemary Sutcliff's writing has stood the test of time. Evocative, atmospheric, and enthralling. I read the book all the way through in one sitting. I was not going to bed until I had finished it. It was simply that good.
Recommended for anyone with an interest in Romano-Celtic Britain. It also plays nicely into Arthurian legend.
Though the book is what we would today call 'Young Adult', there is no talking down to the reader. "The Lantern Bearers" is readable by all ages.
Highly recommended.
Aquila is a decurion who deserts, unable to leave his family, hiding as the boats leaving Britain pull away.
Returning home, the family's small homestead is attacked by Saxons, everyone killed except for Aquila and his sister Flavia. Made a thrall, Aquila bides his time until he can escape and join Ambrosius in Cymru (Wales).
Rosemary Sutcliff's writing has stood the test of time. Evocative, atmospheric, and enthralling. I read the book all the way through in one sitting. I was not going to bed until I had finished it. It was simply that good.
Recommended for anyone with an interest in Romano-Celtic Britain. It also plays nicely into Arthurian legend.
Though the book is what we would today call 'Young Adult', there is no talking down to the reader. "The Lantern Bearers" is readable by all ages.
Highly recommended.
November 5, 2018
It is sad - bitterly sad. But I loved it. I loved Aquila, the broken, bitter Dolphin. I loved the Minnow, and Tess, and Flavia. Tess and Flavia will have a place in my heart, maybe a sad one but a place nonetheless. I felt for them. There were tears in my eyes as I finished.
One of my favorite quotes (there were many):
"'I sometimes think that we stand at sunset,' Eugenus said after a pause. 'It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.'
Aquila was silent a moment, and then he said an odd thing: 'I wonder if they will remember us at all, those people on the other side of the darkness.'"
One of my favorite quotes (there were many):
"'I sometimes think that we stand at sunset,' Eugenus said after a pause. 'It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.'
Aquila was silent a moment, and then he said an odd thing: 'I wonder if they will remember us at all, those people on the other side of the darkness.'"
October 11, 2022
Well, I have to admit that with regard to The Lantern Bearers (the 1959 Carnegie Medal winner), I ended up just very quickly skimming through Rosemary Sutcliffe's presented text to get a general idea for myself and nothing much more. For The Lantern Bearers is in fact the fourth novel of Rosemary Sutcliffe's Dolphin Ring series and I do have to wonder if my distinct and annoying lack of reading enthusiasm for The Lantern Bearers might actually be because I have not read books one to three and am therefore feeling a bit lost.
But even just skimming, this sure makes me very uncomfortably aware of an annoying (at least for me personally) sense and feeling of a problematic dual standard textually present in The Lantern Bearers, and namely that main protagonist and of Roman background Aquila's anti Saxon and Jutes invaders to Britain attitude and his unrelenting hatred for them feels rather hypocritical considering that the Romans are or at least were also invaders and thus pretty similar to the Saxons and the Jutes migrating and invading from what is now Germany and Denmark. And furthermore, considering that The Lantern Bearers is from 1959, and as such only fourteen years post WWII, I also do have to consider the possibility of Aquila's depicted animosity towards the Saxons/Jutes perhaps mirroring a bit of (and for me certainly problematic) anti German sentiment from Rosemary Sutcliffe herself.
Also, and for me considerably more of an issue for The Lantern Bearers, the attitude shown by main protagonist Aquila that his sister Flavia is not only dishonourable for having decided to marry and have a child with the Saxon warrior chief who abducted her and killed their father, but that from her brother Aquila's point of view his sister should simply have committed suicide, that basically for Flavia, survival should never have even been an option and is as such totally unacceptable and even traitorous, well, to say that this infuriates and enrages me, this is indeed and in fact not only true but also a huge understatement. And in my opinion, it also does kind of seems as though the author, as though Rosemary Sutcliffe herself feels rather the same as Aquila does with regard to Flavia, since there is never any true and bona fide condemnation and criticism of Aquila regarding his hate-filled and uncompromising stance towards Flavia shown in The Lantern Bearers, which kind of for me makes me think that for Sutcliffe, when rape is used as an instrument of war, the victims HAD BETTER do the honourable thing and off themselves and that deciding to keep their babies or worse to marry and stay with their abductors is of course totally anathema. But really (and once more), why should Flavia deciding to survive and to then remain with her captors in The Lantern Bearers be so horrible and so problematic when likely the very same thing had happened centuries earlier when the Romans invaded the British Isles?
But even just skimming, this sure makes me very uncomfortably aware of an annoying (at least for me personally) sense and feeling of a problematic dual standard textually present in The Lantern Bearers, and namely that main protagonist and of Roman background Aquila's anti Saxon and Jutes invaders to Britain attitude and his unrelenting hatred for them feels rather hypocritical considering that the Romans are or at least were also invaders and thus pretty similar to the Saxons and the Jutes migrating and invading from what is now Germany and Denmark. And furthermore, considering that The Lantern Bearers is from 1959, and as such only fourteen years post WWII, I also do have to consider the possibility of Aquila's depicted animosity towards the Saxons/Jutes perhaps mirroring a bit of (and for me certainly problematic) anti German sentiment from Rosemary Sutcliffe herself.
Also, and for me considerably more of an issue for The Lantern Bearers, the attitude shown by main protagonist Aquila that his sister Flavia is not only dishonourable for having decided to marry and have a child with the Saxon warrior chief who abducted her and killed their father, but that from her brother Aquila's point of view his sister should simply have committed suicide, that basically for Flavia, survival should never have even been an option and is as such totally unacceptable and even traitorous, well, to say that this infuriates and enrages me, this is indeed and in fact not only true but also a huge understatement. And in my opinion, it also does kind of seems as though the author, as though Rosemary Sutcliffe herself feels rather the same as Aquila does with regard to Flavia, since there is never any true and bona fide condemnation and criticism of Aquila regarding his hate-filled and uncompromising stance towards Flavia shown in The Lantern Bearers, which kind of for me makes me think that for Sutcliffe, when rape is used as an instrument of war, the victims HAD BETTER do the honourable thing and off themselves and that deciding to keep their babies or worse to marry and stay with their abductors is of course totally anathema. But really (and once more), why should Flavia deciding to survive and to then remain with her captors in The Lantern Bearers be so horrible and so problematic when likely the very same thing had happened centuries earlier when the Romans invaded the British Isles?
November 7, 2022
Definitely a more contemplative story line and more multi-dimensional depth with the character development than the first two books had. A good read but I enjoyed the first two books in the series more.
Cleanliness: the use of "b*st*rd" for an illegitimate child. "D*mn" and "h*ll" used a handful of times. The Roman gods are referenced and prayed to a few times. Contains multiple battle sequences and they are more detailed than the previous books. A young man is mentioned as having no clothes. A man comes home to find his wife had a child - he asks if it is his; it is. Alludes to soldiers having a night with women, and soldiers thinking one man is hiding a woman in his tent - he is not. Their is some drinking and a scene of drunkenness. The main character struggles with hatred and bitterness for most of the book.
*Note: I listened to the audio version of this book so this Cleanliness Report may not be as thoroughly detailed as other reports are. Also, some inappropriate content may have been forgotten/missed and not included in the report.
**Like my reviews? Then you should follow me! Because I have hundreds more just like this one. With each review, I provide a Cleanliness Report, mentioning any objectionable content I come across so that parents and/or conscientious readers (like me) can determine beforehand whether they want to read a book or not. Content surprises are super annoying, especially when you’re 100+ pages in, so here’s my attempt to help you avoid that!
So Follow or Friend me here on GoodReads! And be sure to check out my bio page to learn a little about me and the Picture Book/Chapter Book Calendars I sell on Etsy!
Cleanliness: the use of "b*st*rd" for an illegitimate child. "D*mn" and "h*ll" used a handful of times. The Roman gods are referenced and prayed to a few times. Contains multiple battle sequences and they are more detailed than the previous books. A young man is mentioned as having no clothes. A man comes home to find his wife had a child - he asks if it is his; it is. Alludes to soldiers having a night with women, and soldiers thinking one man is hiding a woman in his tent - he is not. Their is some drinking and a scene of drunkenness. The main character struggles with hatred and bitterness for most of the book.
*Note: I listened to the audio version of this book so this Cleanliness Report may not be as thoroughly detailed as other reports are. Also, some inappropriate content may have been forgotten/missed and not included in the report.
**Like my reviews? Then you should follow me! Because I have hundreds more just like this one. With each review, I provide a Cleanliness Report, mentioning any objectionable content I come across so that parents and/or conscientious readers (like me) can determine beforehand whether they want to read a book or not. Content surprises are super annoying, especially when you’re 100+ pages in, so here’s my attempt to help you avoid that!
So Follow or Friend me here on GoodReads! And be sure to check out my bio page to learn a little about me and the Picture Book/Chapter Book Calendars I sell on Etsy!
February 7, 2011
I didn't like this when I was younger, and reading it now, I have no idea why. It's the usual fare for Rosemary Sutcliff: a well researched story set in post-Roman Britain, drawing on real sources -- Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia, mostly, but perhaps also Wace and Layamon's Bruts. It concerns the parts pre-Arthur -- Hengist and Horsa, Vortigern and Ambrosius... It begins just as the Romans leave Britain for the last time, and covers a period of pushing back against the Saxons and their kind. The main character, Aquila, deserts from the Eagles to stay in Britain, only to be captured by the Jutes, to eventually make his way back to Britain...
There is a very mournful note in The Lantern Bearers. The feeling in The Silver Branch of being near the end of things is strong and central, here, and there are personal notes of melancholy, too: Aquila's inability to care for people after Flavia, his difficulties with his son, and the eventual strange meeting between himself and Flavia's son.
Perhaps, as a child, I just didn't like the thought of the twilight of the Roman world. I didn't like The Silver Branch as much then as I do now, either.
There is a very mournful note in The Lantern Bearers. The feeling in The Silver Branch of being near the end of things is strong and central, here, and there are personal notes of melancholy, too: Aquila's inability to care for people after Flavia, his difficulties with his son, and the eventual strange meeting between himself and Flavia's son.
Perhaps, as a child, I just didn't like the thought of the twilight of the Roman world. I didn't like The Silver Branch as much then as I do now, either.
October 6, 2010
The third in the sequence of loosely-related books that began with The Eagle Of The Ninth, The Lantern Bearers, which won the Carnegie Medal in 1959, is a more sophisticated, more adult book than its predecessors.
Set in the fifth century AD, amid the chaos that followed upon the departure of the Roman legions from Britain, it tells the story of the impact of the Saxon invasion on one Romano-British family, and in particular on one of its members, Aquila, descendant of Marcus, the hero of The Eagle Of The Ninth.
As always, Sutcliff's writing is dense and richly detailed, particularly her keenly-observed and evocative descriptions of nature. Nevertheless, descriptive passages are never simply indulged in for their own sake but only as an essential part of the narrative.
Out of such fragments of history and legend as have come down to us from this obscure period, the author has created a powerful and emotional story of divided loyalties, conflicting aspirations and hope nourished against all the odds.
It's a remarkable flight of imaginative reconstruction and a wonderful piece of story-telling. I feel quite certain that the images with which it ends will remain with me for a very long time.
Set in the fifth century AD, amid the chaos that followed upon the departure of the Roman legions from Britain, it tells the story of the impact of the Saxon invasion on one Romano-British family, and in particular on one of its members, Aquila, descendant of Marcus, the hero of The Eagle Of The Ninth.
As always, Sutcliff's writing is dense and richly detailed, particularly her keenly-observed and evocative descriptions of nature. Nevertheless, descriptive passages are never simply indulged in for their own sake but only as an essential part of the narrative.
Out of such fragments of history and legend as have come down to us from this obscure period, the author has created a powerful and emotional story of divided loyalties, conflicting aspirations and hope nourished against all the odds.
It's a remarkable flight of imaginative reconstruction and a wonderful piece of story-telling. I feel quite certain that the images with which it ends will remain with me for a very long time.
Read
January 8, 2024I don't know how I missed reading this trilogy until now. I like them all a lot, but this one, the concluding one, in particular. Brilliant to set the beginning of the novel with the departure of the last Romans from Britain. The senses of inevitability and betrayal are so real, you get the feeling it must have happened just this way, and you'll love the last lighting of the Pharos and the legends that grow and follow it. The heart breaks for Aquila and his multiple losses and the bludgeoning effect they have on him and his emotions, and Sutcliff's description of the grinding, unending battles that follow to drive the Saxons out give a real feel for what life must have been like in that time.
I also love it that Aquila and Ambrosius are fully aware that they are struggling to hold back the dark, civilization holding the line against the barbarian horde. At the same time the years that Aquila spends with the Saxons make the Saxons more human and less monster. They were hungry. Of course they were going to move somewhere they could feed their families, no matter who stood in their way. It's also physics, nature abhors a vacuum, the Romans pulled out and the Saxons moved in.
I feel like I just stepped out of a time machine. Glad to be back.
I also love it that Aquila and Ambrosius are fully aware that they are struggling to hold back the dark, civilization holding the line against the barbarian horde. At the same time the years that Aquila spends with the Saxons make the Saxons more human and less monster. They were hungry. Of course they were going to move somewhere they could feed their families, no matter who stood in their way. It's also physics, nature abhors a vacuum, the Romans pulled out and the Saxons moved in.
I feel like I just stepped out of a time machine. Glad to be back.
March 20, 2012
The decline and fall of Roman Britain in painful, angsty detail. Aquila is a fascinating character here - not really hero or even antihero, but a complicated man with complicated loyalties. Compared to the straightforward soldiers of the previous books, he is quite a bit deeper and darker, and he's on his own here - although he attaches himself to Ambrosius, who would be King of Britain (if it weren't for those pesky Saxons...) this is not a buddy book like the previous two.
The writing is magnificent. Here is one of my favorite quotes: It wasn't as good as love; it wasn't as good as hate; but it was something to put into the emptiness within him; better than nothing at all. Sutcliff brilliantely uses themes of family and loyalty, and images of light against the oncroaching darkness. The lighting of the beacon at Rutupiae made me cry, when it happened and every time it was mentioned, I kid you not.
The section in Saxony was a lot less interesting to me than the rest. Get through it, though, and you will be rewarded.
The writing is magnificent. Here is one of my favorite quotes: It wasn't as good as love; it wasn't as good as hate; but it was something to put into the emptiness within him; better than nothing at all. Sutcliff brilliantely uses themes of family and loyalty, and images of light against the oncroaching darkness. The lighting of the beacon at Rutupiae made me cry, when it happened and every time it was mentioned, I kid you not.
The section in Saxony was a lot less interesting to me than the rest. Get through it, though, and you will be rewarded.
January 1, 2024
My heart 😭 This book destroyed me in the best of ways, taking a piece of my heart & yet giving me so much in return.
Sutcliff’s works are new to me & yet they feel like old friends - homey & heartfelt.
Already I can’t wait to reread this tale. Why? Because it is so Hope-filled. It’s dark & sad at times, showing grief & loss & the hurtfulness of bitterness. And yet it is a reminder that the Darkness will not last forever. There is always hope.
I don’t say this lightly, but this is one of the best books I’ve ever read. I highly recommend it. 💛
(Reread December ‘23… the perfect book to end the year with. brings me to tears every time 😭 it’s magnificent!)
“I sometimes think that we stand at sunset.... It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows again out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.”
Sutcliff’s works are new to me & yet they feel like old friends - homey & heartfelt.
Already I can’t wait to reread this tale. Why? Because it is so Hope-filled. It’s dark & sad at times, showing grief & loss & the hurtfulness of bitterness. And yet it is a reminder that the Darkness will not last forever. There is always hope.
I don’t say this lightly, but this is one of the best books I’ve ever read. I highly recommend it. 💛
(Reread December ‘23… the perfect book to end the year with. brings me to tears every time 😭 it’s magnificent!)
“I sometimes think that we stand at sunset.... It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows again out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.”
October 1, 2019
WHAATTT I was positive this was going to be a three-starred disappointment and then WHABANG it is suddenly one of the most beautiful books of all time.
February 21, 2012
This is really a YA book, but the writing and sentiments are very adult. Although it’s the third in a trilogy, it works just as well as a standalone book. Set in the Dark Ages. Aquila is a British born soldier for the Roman Army who deserts when the Romans leave the British shores for good.
“Why should a deserter take the trouble to light Rutupiae Beacon?” Aquila demanded, and his voice sounded rough in is own ears.
“Maybe in farewell, maybe in defiance. Maybe to hold back the dark for one more night.”
Heading back to his family home, he barely has any time with his beloved sister and father when the Saxons invade and take everything. He watched his father killed and his sister carried off, before he is captured as a slave. The Lantern Bearers tells his story of his escape from slavery and subsequent search for revenge. He joins up with Ambrosius, the so-called Prince of Britain to fight the Saxons.
So Aquila took his father’s service upon him. It wasn’t as good as love; it wasn’t as good as hate; but it was something to put into the emptiness within him; better than nothing at all.
I loved this book as a teenager, and loved it even more now. It would be hard not to feel for Aquila and to sympathise for his cause. The quality of Rosemary Sutcliff’s writing lifts what could be a good story to being something of pure delight, littered throughout with quotes that I would read and read again, just to enjoy one more time.
The wind blustered in from the sea, setting the horses’ manes streaming sideways, and the gulls wheeled mewing against the blue-and-grey tumble of the sky; and Aquila, riding a little aside from the rest as usual, caught for a moment from the wind and the gulls and the wet sand and the living, leaping power of the young red mare under him, something of the joy of simply being alive that he had taken for granted in the old days.
Aquila is always alone, it becomes part of who he is, even when he eventually takes a wife.
But tonight, because Rome had fallen and Felix was dead, because of Valerius’s shame, the empty hut seemed horribly lonely, and there was a small aching need in him for somebody to notice, even if they were not glad, that he had come home.
There is a beauty and a poignancy to this story and it is one that I would recommend to any teen or adult with an interest in the period. One of the fabulous things about Sutcliff’s writing is the simple way she explain complex issues – her skill at writing for a younger audience. One thing’s for sure, I’ll re-read this again before too long. 5/5
“Why should a deserter take the trouble to light Rutupiae Beacon?” Aquila demanded, and his voice sounded rough in is own ears.
“Maybe in farewell, maybe in defiance. Maybe to hold back the dark for one more night.”
Heading back to his family home, he barely has any time with his beloved sister and father when the Saxons invade and take everything. He watched his father killed and his sister carried off, before he is captured as a slave. The Lantern Bearers tells his story of his escape from slavery and subsequent search for revenge. He joins up with Ambrosius, the so-called Prince of Britain to fight the Saxons.
So Aquila took his father’s service upon him. It wasn’t as good as love; it wasn’t as good as hate; but it was something to put into the emptiness within him; better than nothing at all.
I loved this book as a teenager, and loved it even more now. It would be hard not to feel for Aquila and to sympathise for his cause. The quality of Rosemary Sutcliff’s writing lifts what could be a good story to being something of pure delight, littered throughout with quotes that I would read and read again, just to enjoy one more time.
The wind blustered in from the sea, setting the horses’ manes streaming sideways, and the gulls wheeled mewing against the blue-and-grey tumble of the sky; and Aquila, riding a little aside from the rest as usual, caught for a moment from the wind and the gulls and the wet sand and the living, leaping power of the young red mare under him, something of the joy of simply being alive that he had taken for granted in the old days.
Aquila is always alone, it becomes part of who he is, even when he eventually takes a wife.
But tonight, because Rome had fallen and Felix was dead, because of Valerius’s shame, the empty hut seemed horribly lonely, and there was a small aching need in him for somebody to notice, even if they were not glad, that he had come home.
There is a beauty and a poignancy to this story and it is one that I would recommend to any teen or adult with an interest in the period. One of the fabulous things about Sutcliff’s writing is the simple way she explain complex issues – her skill at writing for a younger audience. One thing’s for sure, I’ll re-read this again before too long. 5/5
Read
June 20, 2009More YA history lessons from the meticulous researcher, Rosemary Sutcliff. A chronological listing of her novels: http://www.amazon.com/Rosemary-Sutcli...
THE LANTERN BEARERS begins an historically based interpretation of the King Arthur legend. In 446 the Romans withdraw from Britain and the Saxons flood in. For the 20-some years covered in this story, the battle over British land continues between Ambrosius, of half Welsh and half Roman heritage, and Hengest, the great Saxon war-lord. Another significant player is Artos, the Bear, better known to us today as Arthur, nephew of Ambrosius and bastard son of his dead brother.
From a war scene:
"The Saxons were so near now that he could see the white gleam of the horse's head borne on a spear-shaft that was Hengest's Standard, and hear plain above the wuthering of the wind in his ears the formless smother of sound that was the voice of an advancing host. A Saxon war-horn boomed, and was answered by the higher, brighter note of the Roman trumpets.... The Saxon war host came rolling on, not fast, but remorselessly, shield to shield, with Guitolinus's Light Cavalry scouring on either side.... They were within bowshot now, and there came a sudden flicker of movement among the knot of archers behind the British spearmen, and a flight of arrows leapt out over the spears to plunge into the advancing battle-mass of the Saxons. For a few moments the enemy ranks had the look of a barley field hit by a sudden squall, as men staggered and dropped in their tracks; but the rest closed their torn ranks and pressed on, yelling. The British longbowmen got in one more flight, before the Saxon short-bows came into range; and after that the deadly hail of arrows was a two-way thing, tearing its gaps in the British ranks as it had torn them in the Saxon. And in the midst of the killing hail, the two hosts rolled together, seeming at the last instant to gather themselves like two great animals, then spring for each other's throats.... They rolled together with a shock that seemed as though it must shake the very roots of the fortress hill." (239-40)
THE LANTERN BEARERS begins an historically based interpretation of the King Arthur legend. In 446 the Romans withdraw from Britain and the Saxons flood in. For the 20-some years covered in this story, the battle over British land continues between Ambrosius, of half Welsh and half Roman heritage, and Hengest, the great Saxon war-lord. Another significant player is Artos, the Bear, better known to us today as Arthur, nephew of Ambrosius and bastard son of his dead brother.
From a war scene:
"The Saxons were so near now that he could see the white gleam of the horse's head borne on a spear-shaft that was Hengest's Standard, and hear plain above the wuthering of the wind in his ears the formless smother of sound that was the voice of an advancing host. A Saxon war-horn boomed, and was answered by the higher, brighter note of the Roman trumpets.... The Saxon war host came rolling on, not fast, but remorselessly, shield to shield, with Guitolinus's Light Cavalry scouring on either side.... They were within bowshot now, and there came a sudden flicker of movement among the knot of archers behind the British spearmen, and a flight of arrows leapt out over the spears to plunge into the advancing battle-mass of the Saxons. For a few moments the enemy ranks had the look of a barley field hit by a sudden squall, as men staggered and dropped in their tracks; but the rest closed their torn ranks and pressed on, yelling. The British longbowmen got in one more flight, before the Saxon short-bows came into range; and after that the deadly hail of arrows was a two-way thing, tearing its gaps in the British ranks as it had torn them in the Saxon. And in the midst of the killing hail, the two hosts rolled together, seeming at the last instant to gather themselves like two great animals, then spring for each other's throats.... They rolled together with a shock that seemed as though it must shake the very roots of the fortress hill." (239-40)
April 25, 2018
I'd be hard pressed to choose a favourite of the Roman Britain
trilogy. The Eagle of the Ninth with its story of unlikely
friendship and The Silver Branch with a more likely friendship but darker tone are both magnificent. And apparently, most people do like them better. I guess jolly bromances, friendly characters, and hopefulness are appealing features in a book. Especially when compared with bleakly hopeless tragedy and bitter, angry, vengeful loners like Aquila. But right now (at least until I reread the other two), I'm tempted to say this one is my favourite. I don't know. I didn't think I was huge fan of bleakly hopeless tragedy and angry loners like Aquila, but maybe I was kidding myself. Or maybe I'm just realizing anew how brilliant Rosemary Sutcliff's writing is. I mean, that woman could write. She shaped her words in such a way that each sentence is a thing of subtle beauty that you want to drink in, like ice cold water that kicks you in the belly and makes your head spin on a hot day but is completely satisfying at the same time. She built characters that are relatable and accessible, and yet true to their own time. She would take complex feelings and situations and somehow translate into a simple statement that feels strikingly relevant. She had a certain knack for, each time you read another of her books, chucking a sort of silently explosive Molotov cocktail of understated emotion, quietly gut-wrenching but also almost lightly mentioned tragedy, and somewhat triumphantly bittersweet endings right in your face.
Basically, these books are very, very good.
“It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.”
{4.5ish, maybe???}
Oh look. A fanmix.
trilogy. The Eagle of the Ninth with its story of unlikely
friendship and The Silver Branch with a more likely friendship but darker tone are both magnificent. And apparently, most people do like them better. I guess jolly bromances, friendly characters, and hopefulness are appealing features in a book. Especially when compared with bleakly hopeless tragedy and bitter, angry, vengeful loners like Aquila. But right now (at least until I reread the other two), I'm tempted to say this one is my favourite. I don't know. I didn't think I was huge fan of bleakly hopeless tragedy and angry loners like Aquila, but maybe I was kidding myself. Or maybe I'm just realizing anew how brilliant Rosemary Sutcliff's writing is. I mean, that woman could write. She shaped her words in such a way that each sentence is a thing of subtle beauty that you want to drink in, like ice cold water that kicks you in the belly and makes your head spin on a hot day but is completely satisfying at the same time. She built characters that are relatable and accessible, and yet true to their own time. She would take complex feelings and situations and somehow translate into a simple statement that feels strikingly relevant. She had a certain knack for, each time you read another of her books, chucking a sort of silently explosive Molotov cocktail of understated emotion, quietly gut-wrenching but also almost lightly mentioned tragedy, and somewhat triumphantly bittersweet endings right in your face.
Basically, these books are very, very good.
“It may be that the night will close over us in the end, but I believe that morning will come again. Morning always grows out of the darkness, though maybe not for the people who saw the sun go down. We are the Lantern Bearers, my friend; for us to keep something burning, to carry what light we can forward into the darkness and the wind.”
{4.5ish, maybe???}
Oh look. A fanmix.
July 27, 2016
If Eagle of the Ninth is the story of learning that there's no going back, The Lantern Bearers is the story of struggling to find a way forward. Except instead of Marcus, with his "kingfisher summer" of friends and quintessential resilience, we have Aquila, by far the darkest, brooding, and least nice of Sutcliff's heroes.
This is a hard book to read. Even when Aquila starts to find small scraps of joy on a personal level, there's still the inescapable fact that this is the twilight of the age--and not a quiet, elegiac twilight, but one heralded by smoke and blood. We go straight from this book to the Arthurian book, after all, and no one opens an Arthurian novel expecting a happy ending.
But it's a beautiful book, too. I think my favorite part of this one is the way Sutcliff draws the lives of women. They're tangential to the story, appearing only along the edges, and the main character is often pretty frank in his disregard for them, but even as the men dismiss them it's very clear that they don't dismiss themselves, that they have their own hopes and dreams and world, just out of our sight. (The one exception is Rowena; I could have happily done without that particular trope.)
I have no idea why this book--which spends more time following its protagonist in his 30s than in his teens--is classified as YA. But it is, and I loved it as a teen, so apparently the publishers were on to something.
This is a hard book to read. Even when Aquila starts to find small scraps of joy on a personal level, there's still the inescapable fact that this is the twilight of the age--and not a quiet, elegiac twilight, but one heralded by smoke and blood. We go straight from this book to the Arthurian book, after all, and no one opens an Arthurian novel expecting a happy ending.
But it's a beautiful book, too. I think my favorite part of this one is the way Sutcliff draws the lives of women. They're tangential to the story, appearing only along the edges, and the main character is often pretty frank in his disregard for them, but even as the men dismiss them it's very clear that they don't dismiss themselves, that they have their own hopes and dreams and world, just out of our sight. (The one exception is Rowena; I could have happily done without that particular trope.)
I have no idea why this book--which spends more time following its protagonist in his 30s than in his teens--is classified as YA. But it is, and I loved it as a teen, so apparently the publishers were on to something.
August 22, 2017
So, the third of the series. Now, the Romans finally leave Britains. All? Not all, one of them remains to live and protect his home. But it's a battle he can't win. His house and family are gone so he tries to make a new start. The epic battle against invading Saxons, the tragedy of the protagonist, his interaction with the other characters...it's all pretty good. Although most of the other characters are not really explored. In fact I expected something more from a certain cavalry officer. I thought Sutcliff was about to connect him with the legend but then...nothing more or less.
I'd say it's actually slightly bettet than the first 2 but since I rarely give 5 stars I think I shall stick to a 4, maybe an honorable 4+.
I'd say it's actually slightly bettet than the first 2 but since I rarely give 5 stars I think I shall stick to a 4, maybe an honorable 4+.
March 17, 2024
I first read The Lantern Bearers some twenty years or so ago and it made a massive impact on me. Now, encountering it again as I read my way through all seven of Rosemary Sutcliff’s series which starts in Roman Britain with The Eagle of the Ninth and ends centuries later with the Vikings in The Shield Ring, I’m just as impressed and moved by it. Set at the very end of Roman rule in England (the book starts with the departure of the last Roman troops from Kent), it follows the adventures of Aquila, a deserter from the departing Roman troops, as he is in turn kidnapped and enslaved by the invading Saxons, is brought back to England, escapes and joins forces with the Romano-British warlord-cum-High King, Ambrosius. Rosemary Sutcliff is peerless in her ability to conjure up a far distant time, equally adept at plunging the reader into an entirely different, but wholly coherent, worldview and at full immersion in the alien smells, tastes and sounds of a millennium and a half ago.
July 4, 2019
“It is better to light a candle than to curse the dark.” That could be a description of Rosemary Sutcliff’s The Lantern Bearers. The dark is at two levels: principally the overwhelming of Romano British life by Saxon aggression following the withdrawal of the Roman legions. Also the darkness of the lead character’s personal life following the murder of his family and rape of his beloved sister by the invading Saxons.
The same night the last Romans leave Britain, Aquila, the lead character, deserts his legion and as they sail away he lights up the lighthouse which has shone every night of the Roman era and will never shine again. A candle is literally lit in the dark.
The imagery of light appears again at the end of the book. We know that the resistance to the Saxons is doomed to failure, although the book ends with their temporary defeat. One character says to Aquila “We are the lantern bearers” – they keep alive the flame of Roman life in the face of Saxon darkness. He adds that that is so even if the British resistance is historically forgotten. He looks towards the young warrior Artos, who is to be mythologized as Arthur, implying that the future stories of Arthur will carry on the light. This could be read as a reference to the decline of the British Empire, (Sutcliff’s own father was a naval officer and she spent much of her childhood in British naval bases) but if so it is very subtly done without any jingoism.
The book is closely written to ensure there is always excitement but the incidents are all subservient to the historical tragedy and in part Aquila’s own personal alienation, which mirrors it.
It is a book I admire, but for some reason I cannot love it. I think I get a clue to my response in the descriptions of natural beauty that occur in almost every chapter. Each time that happens there is an unexpected adjective, for example “There was a movement among the trees, a girl’s laugh, and the flicker of colours under the leaves, dark red and saffron and tawny, and a deep living blue like a kingfisher’s mantle, and he realised that a group of girls was apple picking”. I can’t help feeling that the reference to a kingfisher, let alone its mantle, is redundant. I see that Rosemary Sutcliff is trying to make a vivid visual scene without falling back on cliché, but it seems to me over-written. That leads me to suspect that there is something about the whole book that is trying too hard.
But that is not ultimately fair. I read it as a teenager and there are two things that struck me. One was illustrating a probable historic basis for the stories of King Arthur. The other was Aqulia’s reflections on his unsatisfactory relationship with his son: “Right at the beginning, nine years ago, he had hoped that he and his son might be friends, the sort that he and his father had been to each other”. I didn’t know what to think at the time but it was the first time I had been made to realise that parents are only human.
The same night the last Romans leave Britain, Aquila, the lead character, deserts his legion and as they sail away he lights up the lighthouse which has shone every night of the Roman era and will never shine again. A candle is literally lit in the dark.
The imagery of light appears again at the end of the book. We know that the resistance to the Saxons is doomed to failure, although the book ends with their temporary defeat. One character says to Aquila “We are the lantern bearers” – they keep alive the flame of Roman life in the face of Saxon darkness. He adds that that is so even if the British resistance is historically forgotten. He looks towards the young warrior Artos, who is to be mythologized as Arthur, implying that the future stories of Arthur will carry on the light. This could be read as a reference to the decline of the British Empire, (Sutcliff’s own father was a naval officer and she spent much of her childhood in British naval bases) but if so it is very subtly done without any jingoism.
The book is closely written to ensure there is always excitement but the incidents are all subservient to the historical tragedy and in part Aquila’s own personal alienation, which mirrors it.
It is a book I admire, but for some reason I cannot love it. I think I get a clue to my response in the descriptions of natural beauty that occur in almost every chapter. Each time that happens there is an unexpected adjective, for example “There was a movement among the trees, a girl’s laugh, and the flicker of colours under the leaves, dark red and saffron and tawny, and a deep living blue like a kingfisher’s mantle, and he realised that a group of girls was apple picking”. I can’t help feeling that the reference to a kingfisher, let alone its mantle, is redundant. I see that Rosemary Sutcliff is trying to make a vivid visual scene without falling back on cliché, but it seems to me over-written. That leads me to suspect that there is something about the whole book that is trying too hard.
But that is not ultimately fair. I read it as a teenager and there are two things that struck me. One was illustrating a probable historic basis for the stories of King Arthur. The other was Aqulia’s reflections on his unsatisfactory relationship with his son: “Right at the beginning, nine years ago, he had hoped that he and his son might be friends, the sort that he and his father had been to each other”. I didn’t know what to think at the time but it was the first time I had been made to realise that parents are only human.
November 5, 2011
This is a retelling of the story of the period of King Arthur's beginnings, while he was still a child through young man. However, the story is about Aquilla, a Roman Legionaire who realizes at the last minute he can't leave the only home he and his family have ever known, to go to Rome. He deserts and goes back home. Only to have the Saxons swoop down on his home, slaughter his father and father's dog and other servants Aquilla has grown up with, leave him to be eaten by wolves, and drag off his 16 year old sister. He gets "rescued" and becomes a thrall, a slave to the Saxons who found him. Three years later they return to Britannia and he escapes with the help of his sister who stays behind with her man and babe, which he doesn't understand. He joins King Ambrosius's warband and eventually marries and fathers a son. However, his bitterness comes between him and his wife and son until the end of the book when things are put right in a perfect ending. OK, a slightly unbelievable ending but still pretty much note perfect. This is not Sutcliff's best book, but she could not write poor books. I'm reading a book by her at work which I'll review when I finish. That one is not fiction the way this one is, but a retelling of the Arthur legends.
March 13, 2017
Wonderful - one of my favorites.
Content: Several violent scenes. In one scene the main character is stripped by his male captives. His sister is carried away by raiders and it is later revealed that she has a child - only mentions her captive as 'her man', not her husband this scenario is unclear and never elaborated (younger readers may miss it entirely). Several good characters die. Main character is in an unhappy marriage-but it gets resolved.
Content: Several violent scenes. In one scene the main character is stripped by his male captives. His sister is carried away by raiders and it is later revealed that she has a child - only mentions her captive as 'her man', not her husband this scenario is unclear and never elaborated (younger readers may miss it entirely). Several good characters die. Main character is in an unhappy marriage-but it gets resolved.
July 23, 2017
Outstanding writing by a great writer of historical fiction. I think the following quote explains her success as a children's author: "My books are for children of all ages, from nine to ninety."
I only wish she'd written more from a woman's perspective, as she gives us tantalising glimpses of their life at this time. Apart from that, she brings the social and political history to life so vividly that you almost believe she's been there and lived through it herself.
I only wish she'd written more from a woman's perspective, as she gives us tantalising glimpses of their life at this time. Apart from that, she brings the social and political history to life so vividly that you almost believe she's been there and lived through it herself.
January 27, 2024
Still as poignant & deep as the last time I read it...perhaps, even more so. Rosie mines complex human emotion & experience in a way that leaves you breathless 'cause you're feeling convicted, encouraged, seen, challenged, & met all at once. In an odd yet magnificent way, Christ has me seeing myself among the pages of Lantern Bearers & it moves me to tears each time 🖤
June 16, 2016
Aquila's love for his homeland, Britain, causes him to take a decision that turns his life upside down and changes him forever. Then a chance incident many years later brings him peace and some closure. A wonderful read.
April 21, 2024
This book is definitely better than the first two. I enjoyed it a lot more. I still have read better books but this one wasn't too bad. I loved the relationships and just overall the how the characters interacting with one another. Super sweet! I also loved the love and loyalty shown.
December 5, 2019
No me ha acabado de gustar. He leído libros de Manfredi, Negrete y Posteguillo ambientados en la antigüedad grecorromana y me han enganchado. No este. No he conseguido contactar con los personajes, y a ello no han ayudado los saltos temporales de años que ocurren en el libro. Tampoco he acabado de entender sus motivaciones, las razones que los mismos personajes dan son cuanto menos chocantes, (¿quizá por la época en que fue escrito el libro?) La descripción de la acción de las batallas es muy inferior a las que he encontrado en otras novelas.
Y ya como anécdota: los centuriones romanos y sus familias juegan al ajedrez, extraño, porque no fue introducido en Europa desde Persia hasta siglos después, a través del mundo árabe al sur del continente.
ENGLISH
I did not like it. I have read books by Manfredi, Negrete and Posteguillo set in Greco-Roman antiquity and they have hooked me. Not this one. I haven't been able to connect with the characters, and that hasn't been helped by the time leaps of several years that occur in the book. Nor have I fully understood their motivations, the reasons given by the characters themselves are shocking to say the least, (perhaps because of the time when the book was written?) The description of the action of the battles is much lower than those I have found in other novels.
And as an anecdote: the Roman centurions and their families play chess, strange, because it was not introduced in Europe from Persia until centuries later, through the Arab world to the south of the continent.
Y ya como anécdota: los centuriones romanos y sus familias juegan al ajedrez, extraño, porque no fue introducido en Europa desde Persia hasta siglos después, a través del mundo árabe al sur del continente.
ENGLISH
I did not like it. I have read books by Manfredi, Negrete and Posteguillo set in Greco-Roman antiquity and they have hooked me. Not this one. I haven't been able to connect with the characters, and that hasn't been helped by the time leaps of several years that occur in the book. Nor have I fully understood their motivations, the reasons given by the characters themselves are shocking to say the least, (perhaps because of the time when the book was written?) The description of the action of the battles is much lower than those I have found in other novels.
And as an anecdote: the Roman centurions and their families play chess, strange, because it was not introduced in Europe from Persia until centuries later, through the Arab world to the south of the continent.
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