ELEVEN

In Samson’s historical novel, an aspiring scribe in a late 14th-century Swiss town is drawn into the race to find a spy working for the French.

Sixteen-year-old Benedictus Waisel lives in Solodurum, a quirky town that superstitiously fetishizes the number 11—for the residents, a dozen is always one fewer than what everyone else understands. Benedictus hails from generations of stonemasons, but he plans to break family tradition and become a scrivener, a dream imparted to him by his beloved grandfather, who taught him how to read. However, after he discovers he simply can’t afford to join the Scriveners Guild or pay for an apprenticeship, he joins the City Guard and soon distinguishes himself defending Solodurum’s borders from invading French forces (“you opened the breach in their line, you know. I saw it all. That took a lot of courage”), becoming grievously wounded. Baron Roland de Cornu takes notice of Benedictus—it is uncommon that a guard can read—and makes him a kind of personal assistant in his hunt for a traitor he is convinced has infiltrated the city and is aiding the French. The author weaves together fact and fiction in such a way that they are “happily married at the altar of Imagination,” deftly drawing from the town’s rich history. At the heart of the tale is its fascinating protagonist—on the one hand, Benedictus is a shiftless teen adrift in meandering irresoluteness, but on the other hand, he is a young man of great intelligence and honor capable of extraordinary bravery. The plot pinballs erratically at times from one dramatic episode to another, but from this cacophony of events emerges a coherent narrative, captured with great subtlety in Benedictus’ fictional memoir. Samson takes the reader on an edifying tour of a vanished world, and in the process beguiles with a thoroughly entertaining tale.

An engrossing blend of history and literary contrivance.