The historical novel is experiencing a great resurgence. With the works of Phillipa Gregory, Elizabeth Kostova and Diana Gabaldon topping the best-sellers list, the genre is enjoying grand popularity. This new release by Sena Jeter Naslund, author of Ahab’s Wife, is another engrossing mix of the historical and the fictional.

During difficult times, people want and need someone to blame, someone upon whom they can ply their anger and frustration. In French history, the greatest accusation has always been the one made against Marie Antoinette. In some works, it would actually appear as if this Austrian woman alone was the impetus for the French Revolution of 1789 when, in fact, the seeds of unrest had been planted a hundred years earlier, under the reign of Louis XIV. It was from this Louis’ wife that the words “Let them eat cake” actually came. In Abundance, A Novel of Marie Antoinette, Naslund proposes an opposing contention: the defense of Marie Antoinette in her own words.

Written from the first person perspective of Marie Antoinette herself, the book reads like a memoir or as if the famous Queen sits quietly telling the tale of her life. In many places, the author utilizes the young woman’s own words where historical records were available, text taken from the memoirs of others who chronicled the Queen’s words. The rest of the story, like so many historical novels, is “imagination, based on research.”

Fourteen-year-old Marie Antoinette is poised on the brink of a precipice when her life will change forever. The story begins, as does her journey, as she travels from Austria to France to meet and marry her future husband, Louis XVI, a fifteen-year-old adolescent. Though she is young, this version of the famous story finds Marie Antoinette cognizant of the importance of the moment. Her early words, untainted by adult experiences, are innocent yet her intellect warns her of what is to come as the wife of a King. Her fear at leaving her old life, her old world, even her old name is clear amidst the bravado that attempts to pretend otherwise. Even before she meets her betrothed, she can recite their stark differences: Louis Auguste’s preference for books over all else, her dislike of reading and love of nature. However, what she does she does for peace in Europe, and she does so with full knowledge, though the knowledge does nothing to alleviate her fears.

As any human’s thoughts stretch out like the many divergent strands of a spider’s web, so does the narrative, laying bare this woman’s innermost feelings and emotions. This is not the Marie Antoinette of the revolutionist history as most know her, but a flesh and blood young woman thrust into the most glamorous, chaotic and dangerous court of the day. The strange French customs of the time are revealed through her Austrian eyes: the overt opulence of dress, make up and décor, the hedonistic, pleasure-obsessed behavior and the danger inherent in the subterfuge of court life.

The months of unconsummated marriage with Louis XIV turn to years and though they sleep in the same bed, it is only somnolence and contemplations that they share, thoughts and feelings but no physical intimacy, and the lack of it worries upon her mind above all else. Her journey to womanhood was so short, so absent of a childhood, she fails to realize her husband is not yet a man. She sees in his inabilities a lack of desire.

“The question is whether I shall strangle on bitterness or shame. People say I am pretty and have great charm, but to my husband I am more hideous than a dragon. I want to throw back my head and spout up my misery. I want to be torn apart by dogs.”

The humble introspection and unveiling of fears cannot camouflage how quickly Marie Antoinette becomes accustomed to the gargantuan riches of her husband’s court or the power inherent with being the wife of one of the most influential men in the world. She betrays herself with her own thoughts, offered as mere trivia, between her seemingly more profound intellectual discoveries. Her naïve mistrust of those around her who actually wish her ill brings her further into trouble and into the tainted eye of the people. As the young Queen evolves from child to woman, her lack of physical satisfaction becomes all-consuming and seems to be offered as the excuse for all her aberrant behavior.

“I have tried always to make him welcome, have never shunned him, but sometimes I am filled with irritation and impatience, for which dancing and laughing and teasing someone else are the only release. Now there is gambling too."

When finally children come and she gives France an heir and more, she finds the pinnacle of her popularity, but it is short lived and the fall from the mountaintop is longest of all. Even as Marie Antoinette sees glimmers of her ill-fated future, her natural tendency toward opulence and abundance takes place without her notice; she speaks of it as she speaks of taking a bath or getting dressed, but nothing can stop the unwavering course of her destiny.

It is easy to happily surrender to the exquisite storytelling of Marie Antoinette, to hang on to her every word and forget her medium is a twenty-first century author. Sena Jeter Naslund has painted a picture of a completely loving, loyal, and well-mannered, if a bit spoiled, woman. It is a portrait in complete opposition to the one etched by the rest of history. It seems almost naively wrought; certainly, there should have been some admission of guilt in this highly intelligent, introspective woman’s words. There is a veiled acknowledgment of her love for Count Axel von Fersen and an equally obscure reference to the truth of their relationship. But such words are accompanied by a sense of rationalization on her part, an ‘it’s not my fault I acted this way’ attitude, much as children exhibit when caught breaking the rules.

This extraordinarily crafted work, rich in both language and historical detail, is a treasure among the many books on this unique woman’s life, brilliantly accomplishing what the movie by Sophia Coppola did not. Whatever beliefs one may have of Marie Antoinette’s true actions in those illustrious days so long ago, the author has so successfully and endearingly personified the woman, it is difficult not to feel a prickle of grief at the violent end of her life and at the end of this intellectual, stimulating and engrossing work.

Donna Russo Morin
© December 2006