Review: "Joan," Katherine J. Chen

By Paul Carrier

There is a well-known historical representation of Joan of Arc, the teenager who helped turn the tide for France in the closing decades of the Hundred Years War during the 15th century.

Pious and mystical, this Joan claims to hear voices and see visions, as saints and angels urge her to secure the coronation of the uncrowned French king, Charles VII, and help him expel English invaders intent on seizing control of the country. That was the version I absorbed at St. Joan of Arc School in Southbridge, Mass., back in the late 1950s and early 1960s.

But there is another Joan too, who might be called a 21st-century Joan of Arc. This version is the protagonist in Katherine J. Chen’s eponymous novel, and she is quite different. As The New York Times said in a review: “This is not your grandmother’s St. Joan,” but rather “an ass-kicking, avenging angel fighting simply for the right to fight.”

Even in childhood, Chen’s Joan is feisty, energetic, independent-minded and physically strong. She single-handedly rebuilds walls, repairs roofs and throws boys into a stream for tormenting songbirds. This Joan is mesmerized by armor and weapons. She is religious but not overly so, often falling asleep in church to the dismay of the local priest.

In the novel, Joan is beaten by her sadistic father, Jacques, and devastated by the death of her beloved sister Catherine after Catherine is raped by marauding English soldiers in Domrémy, their village in northeast France.

As a teenager, Joan flees Domrémy and eventually finds herself at the king’s court in Chinon, where she is viewed by some as a “holy woman” who easily masters bow, sword and horse. Charles and others come to believe she may be able to help rid France of the English occupiers, and solidify the king’s standing by allowing him to be crowned in the Cathedral of Reims, the traditional coronation site for French kings.

The immediate task in 1429, when Joan arrives in Chinon, is to lift the English siege of the city of Orléans. Wearing armor and wielding a sword, Joan is sent to the front with a squire and two pages, where she joins the French army as a cross between a warrior and a symbol for the troops, who see her as the embodiment of a prophecy that an armed virgin would emerge to save France from its enemies.

Thanks at least in part to Joan’s morale-boosting presence and her active military participation, the French lifted the siege and cleared the route to Reims, where Charles was crowned in 1429. Joan’s fortunes dwindled after that, however, when Charles, seemingly jealous of Joan’s popularity, may have undercut her efforts. Joan was captured by French forces allied with England in 1430, convicted of heresy in 1431 and burned at the stake in Rouen that year. The Hundred Years War continued until 1453, ending with a French victory. Joan’s conviction was overturned by a religious court in 1456. The Catholic Church canonized her as  a saint in 1920.

In the traditional view, Joan’s visions motivated her to join the French forces because she was instructed to do so by heavenly messengers. The source of Joan’s visions remains open to debate, however, which may help explain why Chen does not deal with them or Joan’s trial and execution in her novel.

In fact, Chen poses a fascinating alternative theory. In her view, Joan, naturally pugnacious, opinionated and hot-tempered, took the field at Orléans and elsewhere because she was inspired by a deep-rooted patriotism and an all-consuming hatred of the English, who had left death and destruction in their wake throughout much of France. “For me,” Chen writes in an afterword, “Joan is a soldier first . . . .”

In that afterword, Chen describes her novel as a “reimagining” of Joan’s life. Joan is a work of fiction, after all; dialogue and scenes are invented. But much of what Chen asserts is documented. Joan was a warrior, not a mere figurehead. She did play a leadership role in the army. She was wounded in combat (and is said to have pulled an arrow from her neck with her own hands). And she was a powerful source of inspiration for her troops, who saw her as an agent of God. 

Joan wasn’t the savior of France in the Hundred Years War, which continued for 22 years after her death. But she definitely was a savior of her country. When Joan, a peasant who purportedly could not read or write, arrives in Chinon (in the novel) and finally meets the as-yet-uncrowned king, Charles reminds her that she is not a scholar or a philosopher or an ambassador. So, he asks her, what can you possibly do to help our cause?

“Majesty,” Joan replies, “I can fight.”