Rebecca Perry's debut novel, May We Feed the King, is a dazzling puzzle-box of a book that deliberately wrongfoots the reader at every turn. On its surface, it appears to be an intriguing tale about a curator tasked with creating historically accurate scenes in a medieval palace, but as you delve deeper, you realize that nothing is quite as it seems.
The novel's use of detail and specificity is striking, yet simultaneously frustrating, as Perry insists on presenting the reader with everything – and nothing at all. The story unfolds through the eyes of an unnamed curator who navigates the world of the palace, uncovering snippets of information about a king whose life has been reduced to mere fragments.
As you follow the Curator's journey, the narrative seamlessly shifts between the present day and the medieval past, weaving together a complex tapestry of reflections, shadows, and movements. It's as if we're the ghosts haunting the palace, trying to decipher the clues left behind by the courtiers.
At its core, May We Feed the King is a powerful exploration of the limits of human understanding. The novel asks us to confront our own biases and assumptions about history, and the lives of those who come before us. Perry's portrayal of the king, who possesses ultimate power but is forced into objecthood, is both heartbreaking and thought-provoking.
Ultimately, May We Feed the King is a novel that defies easy interpretation. It's a richly entertaining and frustrating read that will leave you questioning everything. The book's final message – to listen for everything and pay attention – serves as a poignant reminder of the importance of subtlety and nuance in storytelling. While Perry may withhold some answers, she rewards her readers with a puzzle-box of a novel that is impossible to put down.
The novel's use of detail and specificity is striking, yet simultaneously frustrating, as Perry insists on presenting the reader with everything – and nothing at all. The story unfolds through the eyes of an unnamed curator who navigates the world of the palace, uncovering snippets of information about a king whose life has been reduced to mere fragments.
As you follow the Curator's journey, the narrative seamlessly shifts between the present day and the medieval past, weaving together a complex tapestry of reflections, shadows, and movements. It's as if we're the ghosts haunting the palace, trying to decipher the clues left behind by the courtiers.
At its core, May We Feed the King is a powerful exploration of the limits of human understanding. The novel asks us to confront our own biases and assumptions about history, and the lives of those who come before us. Perry's portrayal of the king, who possesses ultimate power but is forced into objecthood, is both heartbreaking and thought-provoking.
Ultimately, May We Feed the King is a novel that defies easy interpretation. It's a richly entertaining and frustrating read that will leave you questioning everything. The book's final message – to listen for everything and pay attention – serves as a poignant reminder of the importance of subtlety and nuance in storytelling. While Perry may withhold some answers, she rewards her readers with a puzzle-box of a novel that is impossible to put down.