Posts Tagged ‘fictional stories about widows’
Reflections Regarding Lois McMaster Bujold’s “Paladin of Souls”
As I continue to look for a place to live, I’ve pondered many things. But the one thing I kept coming back to, the one book in this case, was Lois McMaster Bujold’s excellent fantasy novel, PALADIN OF SOULS.
You might be wondering why. I know I did, when I could not get this book out of my mind…but now, I believe I have at least some idea of why this book is resonating so much with me at the moment.
The protagonist, Ista, is a widow. Just like I am. She’s in midlife, which also is just like me…of course, Ista is the Dowager Royina (read: Queen) of Chalion, which isn’t like me at all. But Ista feels stifled. She feels like there’s just no point in the life she’s leading, though she’s not sure how to break away and do her own thing. She’s also not exactly sure what “her own thing” might be, as she’s been widowed for quite a few years (around twenty, I think); for much of that time, Ista was seen as stark, raving bonkers even though she wasn’t.
(To go into all the reasons why people thought Ista was crazy, you need to read the prequel to this book, THE CURSE OF CHALION. It’s also an excellent novel.)
So, Ista is always watched and is frequently misunderstood. (I completely empathize with her in this. Women in midlife being misunderstood, much less widowed women, is something nearly all women in midlife can identify with, even if we can’t necessarily identify with always being watched.) But she is as sober, and sane, as any judge, and finally figures out a way to break out of her genteel captivity: she’ll say she’s going on a pilgrimage, and what other people assume (mostly they think Ista is praying for a healthy son delivered from her daughter Iselle, the current Royina and co-monarch of both Chalion and Ibra, but Ista thinks praying for anything except health for her daughter and any baby regardless of gender is stupid) is up to the other people.
Also, I have to mention this: Ista is not the easiest person to like at the beginning of this book. She is bitter, but for very good reasons. Her late husband did not treat her very well, and that has never been fully faced by anyone, much less Ista. (Her late husband was older than Ista, but that wasn’t the major problem. What that problem happened to be was that her late husband the Roya was in love with his top-ranked courtier, so Ista was always going to come last in that love triangle. Not that she had anything to do with the courtier other than tolerate his presence.) She’s been kind of an afterthought for a while; yes, she’s the mother of the current co-monarch (most Royinas do not rule, but Iselle certainly does with her husband Bergon of Ibra), but her own life has taken a backseat to her motherhood. And Ista has gifts of her own, which need to be used…thus the pilgrimage.
As I don’t want to spoil things too much for you if you haven’t read PALADIN OF SOULS yet, I’m going to skirt a lot of the details. I will say that Ista, as she grows and starts leaning into her talents rather than being denied them (as these talents make her seem crazy to non-cognoscenti), becomes a deeper, richer, and spiritual person. And if she’s very careful, she just might find love unlooked for with the right man at the right time, providing they can get through a whole lot of difficulties first.
Then again, love usually has to be fought for in some fashion, otherwise it doesn’t mean a whole lot.
In my life, I know for sure that Michael and I fought to be together. We were long distance, me in Iowa, he in San Francisco, for most of our courtship. Neither of us had much money, so how we got to be together lay in my mother receiving an unexpected windfall. She knew Michael was important to me, even though she’d not met him yet, and so she sent him that money.
Michael’s own mother, on the other hand, did not want him to leave San Francisco. She thought him taking a chance on me, a woman who was divorced twice by the age of thirty-six, was dumb even though he, too, was divorced (albeit just once).
Of course, she was wrong in this. Michael told her so, and he was right to do so. (Now that they’re both on the Other Side, I hope they have reconciled, but really, that reconciliation needed to start with her.) Michael knew everything about me; best of all, he loved the parts of me I couldn’t even like (but needed in order to be the person I was and am today).
This is what love is, when you’re mature enough to understand it. That understanding, that deep caring, that appreciation of everything you are — even the stuff you can’t stand about yourself — is what is needed to form a lasting marital partnership. And, like Ista in PALADIN OF SOULS, I found along the way that I had more gifts than I’d realized at first.
See, all of that is needed for a great emotional and physical connection. How can you make love to someone else if you don’t know them fully? If you don’t want to know them fully?
Ista says in one place that she’s late to discover herself. (This is me eliding a few things, for those who have read PALADIN OF SOULS. Still trying hard not to spoil it for new readers.) I think a lot of women in midlife — Hell, a lot of men, too — come to realize this, partly because they now have lived several decades and know themselves and the world at large far better than before.
At any rate, if you are in the right relationship, it should be mature, deep, with much mutual appreciation…and yes, you should have a wonderful and rich love life, too. (If you don’t have that, and it’s not because your partner is completely unable for some reason, you’re probably in the wrong relationship. But I digress.) You should feel understood, valued, and appreciated for who you are. You shouldn’t ever have to apologize for being yourself, or for loving your spouse/partner; if you find yourself doing that, again, you probably are in the wrong relationship.
What Ista finds out through her adventures is very simple, but also very profound: Life means more when you know yourself. You can do more with your life once you know your talents and gifts, no matter how unusual they may be to your particular culture and belief system. And only by fully realizing who we are and acting on our talents can we be open enough to embrace a new love relationship despite whatever hardships you had to deal with in the past.
I think the reason I can at least consider having another relationship (if it ever happens) is because Michael was a wonderful, caring, and considerate husband. In every way — mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual — he and I were a match. (One of the ministers I’ve talked to since Michael died told me he thought Michael and I knew each other before we were born, and were supposed to be with one another all along. I told the minister that I wish I’d have known where Michael was, as I’d have gone out to San Francisco by the age of twenty if not sooner to find him. But I also knew that one of the reasons he and I took to each other so quickly is because we’d lived life and knew what we wanted along with what we didn’t want and couldn’t tolerate in a marriage. Maturity was part of what was needed for the two of us to get along like a house on fire, in other words.)
Right now, I’m only eight days from passing the saddest anniversary of all: the day Michael died. Even though I believe firmly that the spirit is eternal, and that Michael in some ways never left me at all (as the two of us did become one, and as long as I’m alive, at least part of him is, too), it’s tough not to be able to get a hug from him. Or a kiss. Or anything else, especially during tough times like what I’m dealing with right now.
Knowing you are loved helps to get through the bad times. It also helps you believe that better days are possible. But getting to those better days is a struggle, especially when you seem to be in a position where you can do little to affect your own outcome.
None of us widows and/or widowers have chosen to be in this particular state. All of us who had loving spouses want our husbands and wives back. We don’t like having to walk alone, even though the memories of that love help to sustain and nurture us so we can at least make the attempt to do the walking.
Anyway, along with Katharine Eliska Kimbriel’s three books in the Night Calls series, I’ve added PALADIN OF SOULS to the frequently re-read pile. I find more and more stuff in there that feels extremely true to life, and like Allie in Ms. Kimbriel’s books, Ista is a heroine worth remembering and appreciating.
Written by Barb Caffrey
September 13, 2025 at 5:17 am
Posted in fantasy, Lois McMaster Bujold, Michael B. Caffrey, Widowhood, Writing
Tagged with book review, Books, fiction, fictional stories about widows, fictional widows, finding unexpected love, Heroines to root for, Ista, love, PALADIN OF SOULS, widows, writing
Thoughts on Bujold’s “Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen”
Folks, yesterday I reviewed Lois McMaster Bujold’s GENTLEMAN JOLE AND THE RED QUEEN over at Shiny Book Review (SBR for short, as always**). I enjoyed Bujold’s newest novel, the latest in her long-running Vorkosigan Saga, and said so over at SBR.
But the longer I pondered Bujold’s excellent book, the more I felt I had to talk about…and some of my thoughts just wouldn’t fit into a well-ordered review no matter how hard I tried. Which is why I decided to come over here instead, to my personal blog, and try to discuss some of the issues Bujold raised.
Because I need to discuss GENTLEMAN JOLE AND THE RED QUEEN in depth, I’m likely to discuss spoilers. If you haven’t read this book yet, but you intend on doing so, you probably should not read this blog until you have. (On the other hand, if you have no intention of reading Bujold, but just want to read my thoughts about a widow well past fifty finding new love again, all unlooked for, here’s your opportunity to do so.)
One, final caveat: As this isn’t the first time Bujold has discussed the ramifications of death in the Vorkosigan Saga — far from it — long-time readers of my blog may notice certain themes I’ve discussed before with regards to Bujold.
Anyway, here are some of my further thoughts about GENTLEMAN JOLE AND THE RED QUEEN:
- Bujold is bang-on the mark when it comes to depicting a widow, Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan, who truly loved her husband, and has felt the depths of despair.
- Again, Bujold is bang-on the mark when it comes to how much widowhood has changed Cordelia. In some senses, Cordelia is much older, mentally, than she was when her beloved husband Aral was alive. This is due to grief, loss, and the frustration of no longer being able to be with her beloved husband. (Even in the far future, death can come suddenly and without warning — and thus it did for Aral.)
- Bujold continues to get it right while showcasing what a powerful woman does without her powerful husband at her side. Cordelia is too strong a person and too complex, besides, to allow grief to devour her. (But in some ways, it was a near thing.)
- I enjoyed the mature version of Oliver Jole, a character mostly seen in passing at a much younger age in THE VOR GAME. (At that time, Jole was a Lieutenant attached to Aral Vorkosigan’s staff.) He’s smart, has a similar background to Aral Vorkosigan and indeed knew Aral quite well in more than one sense…and yet, like Cordelia, he’s a man at loose ends. The fact that Jole is fifty and Cordelia is in her mid-seventies doesn’t matter one bit, because the pull between them — once acknowledged — is more than strong enough to deal with the age difference.
- I even understood why Cordelia, once she felt alive again, wanted to bring more children into the world. (Children, I must note, that are to be fathered by her dead husband Aral’s sperm, and her own long-ago frozen ova.) It’s a subconscious way of declaring that she has more to do…and Cordelia, throughout the Vorkosigan Saga, has always been a maternal figure. (Having only one biological child never did suit Cordelia too well, methinks.)
These were the major things I thought while I read GENTLEMAN JOLE AND THE RED QUEEN at least seven times prior to reviewing the book.
But you might be wondering why I put a LGBT tag on this book, especially if you haven’t gone to read my review yet. (If not, tsk, tsk!)
It’s simple. Oliver Jole is bisexual. He’s not been attracted to too many women in his life as he seems far more drawn to men. But he’s powerfully attracted to Cordelia, and he’s not sure why.
Some reviewers at Amazon and elsewhere have taken Bujold to task for making Jole bisexual instead of a gay man inexplicably attracted to a straight woman. I don’t see it that way, however, because sexuality is on a continuum. Some men are only attracted to women, while some other men are only attracted to men. And the rest are in the middle somewhere, actually attracted to both in a way that’s going to make itself be heard…that is just the way human biology works.
Or to put it another way that’s closer to home: My husband’s brother, Sam, was a proud gay man. But Michael told me that Sam dated two women that Michael was aware of, and Sam showed every indication of being attracted to these women…Michael told me this in a bemused voice, but said he would’ve been happy if Sam had found anyone he liked, regardless of gender identity or sexual preference. Because love matters more than the outward form.
That’s why I have no problem with Oliver Jole being attracted to Cordelia. It’s quite possible that Cordelia herself is so attractive, it doesn’t matter what the outside shape of her form is. But if Jole is attracted to her body as well as her mind, so what? (Either way, it works.)
I also don’t have a problem with Cordelia taking up with Oliver, either. She’s been widowed for three years when she starts a relationship up with Oliver (as I read this section, I thought, Oh, Cordelia. You think it’s bad after three years, don’t you? Try eleven.), so there’s been plenty of time for her to adjust to her new reality.
Ah, but I can hear you now, readers. “But Barb,” you protest. “It took you at least six years to even begin to deal with your husband’s untimely passing. Why is Cordelia different?”
There are a number of reasons why. First, Cordelia got many more years with her husband than I managed to get with mine. Second, Aral Vorkosigan was over eighty years old when he passed away, and my husband Michael was only forty-six. And third, Aral Vorkosigan had done everything he sought out to do…while my husband was still in the process of making a name for himself as a writer and editor, but didn’t get the chance to see most of his work come to fruition.
Plus, every widow and widower’s grief journey is different. Some people grieve for years, then remarry happily. (I’ve known a couple of younger widowers in this position.) Some grieve for a couple of years, then somehow set most of the worst signs of grief aside but don’t date. And some, like me, take years and years to process it all, then figure out a coping mechanism (mine, obviously, is in finishing up my husband’s writing, because I can’t bear to see it incomplete) so they can get on with life whether they ever date again or not.
Grief is a very individual thing, you see. But one thing is very obvious about grief that many reviewers of GENTLEMAN JOLE AND THE RED QUEEN are completely overlooking.
You see, grief changes you. It can’t help but do that. You are in so much pain, and you hurt so deeply, that you can’t be exactly the same after someone you dearly loved passes from this plane of existence.
So the comments on Amazon and elsewhere that go along the lines of, “But, but, Cordelia is a shadow of her former self! And that’s not right!” have it all wrong.
Yes, Cordelia, when she starts out Bujold’s newest novel, may be seen to be lesser than she used to be. Her beloved husband is dead, and she’s been without him for three years. That can’t help but to have marked her…now, all she can do is go on (which, I note, is what Aral would want her to do), and try to do the best she can with the time she has left — which in Bujold’s universe could be another forty years, for all Cordelia knows.
Bujold characterized widowhood correctly, folks. You might not like what being a widow has done to Cordelia — mind, if you asked Cordelia prior to the start of GENTLEMAN JOLE AND THE RED QUEEN, she’d probably tell you she doesn’t like it, either — but Cordelia’s feelings and demeanor are accurate. Much of Cordelia’s fire is now hidden, because the loss of Aral, her husband, is just that profound…and even though she’s quite happy to be with Oliver after a while, Oliver is still not Aral, so not all of Cordelia’s fire comes back.
I understand this, and I hope it’s not just because I, too, am a widow who lost a dearly beloved husband.
Anyway, GENTLEMAN JOLE AND THE RED QUEEN is an unabashed science fiction/romance hybrid. I loved it, and thought it had depth, passion, wit, warmth, style, and great characterization.
But I can see where some people really would rather not see Cordelia so diminished (at least, before Cordelia decides to live again — and that decision, I might add, comes before she realizes Oliver is interested in her, much less they do anything about that interest). Because pain is hard to bear, even in a book…and Bujold is one of the best in the business at conveying that pain, even indirectly as through the excessively analytical Cordelia.
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**– Note: Shiny Book Review is now found at the domain shinybookreviews.com — with an -s after review — as our old domain name was bought by someone else. If you’re following SBR, please make sure to follow it as shinybookreviews with the -s. We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog, already in progress…
Written by Barb Caffrey
January 31, 2016 at 8:39 am
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