I, Julian by Claire Gilbert

 

I, Julian by Claire Gilbert.

Published 13th April 2023 by Hodder and Stoughton.

From the cover of the book:

'So I will write in English, pressing new words from this beautiful plain language spoken by all. Not courtly French to introduce God politely. Not church Latin to construct arguments. English to show it as it is. Even though it is not safe to do so.'

From the author of Miles to Go before I Sleep comes I, Julian, the account of a medieval woman who dares to tell her own story, battling grief, plague, the church and societal expectations to do so. Compelled by the powerful visions she had when close to death, Julian finds a way to live a life of freedom - as an anchoress, bricked up in a small room on the side of a church - and to write of what she has seen. The result, passed from hand to hand, is the first book to be written by a woman in English.

Tender, luminous, meditative and powerful, Julian writes of her love for God, and God's love for the whole of creation. 'All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.'

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As part of the blog tour for I, Julian, it is my pleasure to bring you an extract from the book:

I stand resistant to my mother’s words.

‘You are eighteen years old, a woman now, and you must marry. I will look for a husband for you from your father’s guild.’

Watching my face, which shows only too well what I think of this, she says,

‘You have a duty to bear children. Our people are stricken, we must have new life to bring us hope, and you are of age. And what else is there for you, if not marriage, than to enter a convent?’

I see in my mind’s eye a recently married woman at mass one Sunday wearing her newly acquired, ill-fitting, heavy wimple on her head. She wanted to linger and converse with others after the service but her older husband did not, and he bade her come away. Now. She had to run after him, clutching her wimple, as he strode swiftly out of the church. She was no longer her own mistress.

I do not want to run after a man and serve him and bear his children, and live in the city probably. But to be a nun, enclosed and silenced? Living with all those other bodies according to a rule that measures out each moment of each day?

I cannot abide either prospect. I crave my own company. I do not want to leave my home and the quiet warmth of my mother’s hearth and the comfort of nature. I love my long solitary walking, listening to the trees and feeling the soft earth under my feet, beholden to none before God.

And then the pestilence returns. At first my mother and I keep away from the city, fearful of further loss, but eventually we go to mass at the cathedral, praying with others for mercy and deliverance. In the shifting crowd of worshippers I find beside me a man I think I recognise. I keep my eyes fastened on the priest but all my attention is drawn to the broad-shouldered strong presence beside me, black- haired like my father, and I feel his protection too but differently: this with longing and heat like a physical thing between us. Then I remember him: on the few occasions when I visited my father’s wool house he was there as an apprentice. He does not speak to me and I will not look at him, but after the mass he falls into step with my mother and I can see, walking a short distance behind, that he is supplicating her. In spite of myself, my heart moves and the feeling is pleasurable.

‘Martin has a wool house of his own’, says my mother when we have reached our cottage. ‘And a merchanting business with ships that pass to Flanders with his wool.’

And in the midst of the pestilence-fear for which I have little patience, foolish young woman as I am, believing my strong body to be beyond all such terrors, this trembling, the first stirrings of love for a man, bring delight and distraction. I start to think that perhaps, if Martin is kind and not overbearing, I can be his wife. I should at least find out. I consent to see him, and the stirrings of love deepen when we meet and walk together and he opens his heart to me. Beneath his strong appearance he is tender and I become comfortable in his presence. The city will be bearable if I am with him, I think.

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I, Julian is available to buy now in hardcover and ebook formats from your favourite book retailer, or via the link HERE.

About the author:

Claire Gilbert grew up in London of English, Jewish, Scottish and Spanish heritage. She writes and speaks about ethics and spirituality in politics and public service, medicine, ecology and on Julian of Norwich. She is founding Director of Westminster Abbey Institute for ethics in public life. With her husband Seán she divides her time between London, Hastings and the west of Ireland.