Book Review: Night Pilgrims

Night Pilgrimsby Chelsea Quinn YarbroTor, 2013 Science fiction and fantasy author Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's latest book, Night Pilgrims, is sub-titled "A Novel of the Count Saint-Germain." That same Count Saint-Germain has appeared in about two dozen such novels, plus a couple of story collections and a handful of spin-off novels. He's a vampire, but not so's you'd notice: he looks human, doesn't sparkle, isn't driven by an evil nature to prey on human beings. Instead, he's suave, accommodating, and incredibly multi-lingual. Yarbro started out telling his story with 1978's Hotel Transylvania, in which Count Saint-Germain goes under the name of ... Count Saint-Germain, the real one, a nobleman, composer, and wit at the court of King Louis XV. That original novel has some neat plotting and a well-orchestrated finale, and in all this time, in all the dozens of years and dozens of Saint-Germain novels that have followed since, neither neat plotting nor well-orchestrated finales have even been attempted, let alone achieved. Indeed, what's unfolded instead is in many ways the focused opposite of neat plotting: with the morbid compulsion of a dog-track gambler and the unblinking punctilio of a head librarian, Yarbro in these books has given up on drama and decided instead to present a a dramatized genealogy - in which this one man is the whole damn family tree.It's a long genealogy. Although the character who would much, much later be known as Count Saint-Germain is from what would much later become Transylvania, he was born there thousands of years ago, decamped to ancient Egypt as soon as he could (trying always to travel with trunks of his native dirt, much as Angelina Jolie does today), and has lived through a baker's dozen high-profile historical epochs, from Nero's Rome to Charlemagne's France Lorenzo de Medici's Florence to Rasputin's Russia. In the whole of that time, Saint-Germain, ably assisted by his resurrected manservant/Renfield Roger, has made his way, getting lodgings, crossing borders, learning (and never forgetting) languages, meeting people, losing people, occasionally turning people into vampires but mostly content to drink lightly of their blood or the blood of their livestock. You can always spot him on a guest list, because Yarbro contrives always to give him some close variation on the title he'll only officially acquire in 18th century France. In the latest book, Night Pilgrims, for instance, he's known as Sidi Sandjer'min.Sunlight and blood-hunger bring him discomfort, but shade and blood are always readily available. He's a likable guy - and, what with all those languages, an exceedingly useful one - and virtually none of the humans around him ever even suspects that he might be anything more than a well-cultured oddball. The late, great Liberace was accused of being a space alien more times in one year than Saint-Germain is of being a vampire in 40 centuries.Instead of giving her readers dramatic incidents in the life of this immortal character, Yarbro has taken to giving them simply the life of this immortal character. Using a very small bag of stage props - the favorite being meticulously-constructed contemporary documents that make mention of Saint-Germain under one of his many thin pseudonyms but just as often, in these later novels, don't mention him, or anything else of interest, at all:

Text of a letter from Frater Anteus at Syene Philae to Bishop Heraclitus of the cathedral Church of the Resurrection in Alexandria, written in Greek on papyrus and entrusted to Maricopos Pentablion, a Greek Orthodox monk, for delivery which did not occur.

Or:

Text of a letter from Paulos Aristadese, Superior at the Orthodox Christian Church of the Holy Redeemer in Tyre, to Eukratos Kirieki at the Orthodox Church of the Eucharist in Alexandria, written in Greek on vellum and delivered by two monks nine days after it was written.To my most dear brother in Christ, the blessings and greetings of Paulos Aristadese, Superior of the Church of the Holy Redeemer in Tyre, on this, the Feast of Saint Porphyry of Gaza ...

We're always given not only the text but a mention of the letter's original archival format - it's meant to increase the novels' feel of historical authenticity, but it increasingly gives slightly creepier feelings. Readers can usually avoid those creepier feelings during the course of any given novel, because Yarbro is an old hand at keeping things moving, and she combines her extensive historical research with easy readability. This latest novel takes place in 13th century Egypt in the wake of the Fifth Crusade and finds Saint-Germain - Sidi Sandjer'min - acting as a guide for a group of pilgrims as they head south into the continent, and Yarbro does a fluid job of presenting the closed-boat microcosm of a pilgrimage in a way that will keep the reader's interest on a page-by-page level, especially with the good Count making communication so easy:

"Leader," said Sandjer'min politely in Coptic, "if you will permit me to speak for you, I think this misunderstanding may be remedied." Before the leader could answer, Sandjer'min moved a bit closer to the two men, and said in unpolished but very acceptable Aquitanian English, "You are Sieur Horembaud, I gather, and these are your pilgrim companions. I am Ragoczy, Sidi Sandjer'min. This is Aste'on, one of the village leaders here in Sese'metkra. He is in charge of greeting newcomers. You may address him for your wants." He returned to Coptic. "Aste'on, this is a French knight called Sieur Horembaud du Langnor, who is to lead the expedition." He looked directly at Sieur Horembaud. "This man, Aste'on, will see you and your comrades are made welcome. If you will hold up your hands, palms outward, and bow slightly ...?""To such a man as he?" Sieur Horembaud challenged."Since he is the one who will decide if you or your animals will eat tonight, yes, it is as well that you show him courtesy." He showed him how the thing was to be done.

But when the central question of a novel is whether not the main character will decide to turn a secondary character into something as unchanging as he himself is, a certain ooomph is missing. And that's where the creepy feelings come rushing back in; the Saint-Germain novels, in their numbing mundane details and home movie pall of reel-to-reel sameness, have come to seem more like an authorial duty than a dramatic creation. For decades, they've given the impression that Yarbro might say, "Don't blame me if Saint-Germain's life isn't always interesting! I'm just his record-keeper." For decades, they've given the impression that if you sat Yarbro down and asked her, "Do you think the historical Saint-Germain really was, in fact, an immortal vampire?" she might hesitate in her answer - or worse, not hesitate.Provided he's reasonably careful, Saint-Germain can't die, and for novel after novel after interminable novel, readers get the story of him being reasonably careful. Yarbro hopscotches all over history, but swirling sandstorms and marauding Mongols make no real difference, because we know the whole time that, at the very least, Saint-Germain is going to live to be comfortable and respected (one story finds him on a 19th century ranch in the American West). More importantly, he's going to be the same in the 19th century as he was in the 12th or the 2nd. The best thing Yarbro could do for this series would be to end it, and she could choose any number of appropriately historical settings to do so. Picture the scene: Saint-Germain and his faithful ghoul Roger are making some practical purchases - perhaps some rare herbs, perhaps a crinkly old musical score - in the crowded commercial center of Nagasaki in 1945. He steps out into the morning sunlight - Roger's packed a practical parasol - and suddenly sees a much brighter light in the sky. And that's the end of the bastard.