CHILDREN OF SATURN

Neeleman’s sprawling historical novel follows the tumultuous events of the French Revolution and three key players whose lives get swept up in the violence.

The prologue begins in 1789, just two days before the storming of the Bastille. Radical journalist Camille Desmoulins witnesses firsthand the chaos that ensues when it is announced that the French king has dismissed the last remaining liberal among his ministers. Two years later, the English American political activist Thomas Paine is in Paris to oversee the translation of his famous book, Rights of Man. He awakens to the news that King Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, having been imprisoned by the people in their Tuileries Palace for over a year and a half, have fled. Meanwhile, the opportunistic politician Joseph Fouché manages to gain increasing sway over constituents of the National Convention, which moves to make France a republic instead of a monarchy. As readers follow the increasingly intricate personal and political activities of these three characters as their individual story threads come together, there are many supporting players who are also drawn in—from the deeply divisive Maximilien Robespierre, whose radical and sometimes violent ways bring danger to those around him (and eventually himself) to Marguerite Brazier, whose complicated personal relationship with Paine sometimes threatens to overshadow her political involvement. Neeleman also navigates the often labyrinthine dealings of dueling revolutionary factions—the Convention versus the Paris Commune and the left-wing Jacobins (“The Mountain”) versus the right-wing Jacobins (“the Girondins”)—and explores the effects these politics have on the people who live them.

The French Revolution involves so many moving parts that it can be difficult to make sense of them and convey a sense of urgency about what’s happening. Neeleman manages to do just that, however, by wisely focusing on three extremely important figures who, in turn, overlap with other famous names. A sense of foreboding and tension ratchets up exponentially throughout the novel, as in a particularly grim scene in which increasingly hostile groups debate whether or not to have the king executed. While there are plenty of mentions of violence, including one politician’s “head on a pike, his mouth stuffed with hay, the body dragged naked through the streets of Paris,” those instances never feel gratuitous or overly graphic. Some of the dialogue can fall flat, especially when Neeleman attempts to work in past events to give readers some historical context for the current happenings. But the expository writing shines, both when covering political machinations and in quieter moments that help readers connect with these real figures of history as actual people: “Camille is feeling in his breast that pressure combined with ache that has become chronic. It has kept him up nights; it flared up during the queen’s trial and execution. Initially, he wondered if he was suffering a heart attack. He now has accepted that, indeed, it is his conscience. Nothing has surprised him so much as the realization that he has a conscience.” All of these components—the people, the places, the events both big and small—can be difficult to keep straight. Neeleman effectively leads the way with three-dimensional characters and an informed approach to this fascinating slice of history.

A well-researched, true-life drama that makes history—and the players in it—feel utterly alive.