Woman
of the Mountain by Angela Caperton
Extasy
Books, 2010
Zenthe
is the Earth Mother, the supreme Goddess of fertility and desire.
Zenthe is also the volcano that towers over the far-flung lands of
Corsinium, from the lush fields of Margate to the desert frontiers at
Damtown. The dark waters of Zenthe’s Mirror, the bottomless lake
that half-fills the crater, reflect the gleaming spires and halls of
her centuries-old temple perched along the volcano’s rim. Within
the temple, High Priestess Adita, the latest ever-young incarnation
of Zenthe, presides over orgiastic rituals of fleshy bliss and waits
for the one true Lover who will claim her forever. Adita struggles
against loneliness, resisting the despair that has been the downfall
of so many of her predecessors. Meanwhile, the rising power of a
violent, paternalistic faith threatens to subjugate and destroy the
Goddess and her people.
In
Woman of the Mountain, Angela Caperton has created a vividly
sensual world maintained by an intriguing mythos. Woman of the
Mountain is about religion and sex. It is also concerned with the
feminine, nurturing principle, contrasted with the masculine instinct
to conquer. As I am personally fascinated the spiritual aspects of
sex, I found Ms. Caperton’s thesis exciting. Unfortunately, she
does not completely succeed in realizing the promise of her theme.
One
problem (and I’m certain my readers will find this astonishing) is
the fact that Woman of the
Mountain includes too many sex scenes. Perhaps I should
qualify this and say that the book contains too many scenes where the
characters couple purely for immediate pleasure, without any deeper
connection. In Zenthe’s world, sex should be a sacrament, but all
too often, even among the folk of the temple, it seems to be no more
than a recreation. Rarely is there a sense of reverence, a sense of
communion in the flesh should sanctify Zenthe’s rites.
A
second difficulty lies in the characters, who are generally too
simple and one-sided to be realistic or to invite identification.
Adita, in particular, seemed empty, a sketch of a woman who fills a
necessary role in the plot but who never comes alive. Casmin, her
loyal captain of the guard, has more depth, with his steadfast faith
in the Goddess and his earthly but suppressed desire for Adita, but
he is still the archetypal hero, with no flaws to make him real. The
scheming, sexually opportunistic priestess Rivah was particularly
disappointing. When we first meet her, she is an ambitious novice in
Zenthe’s temple. There’s an almost childish glee in the manner
with which she blackmails an older Priestess into granting her the
boon of ordination. I was hoping that Rivah would prove to be a
complex villain, or at least a powerful one. Ultimately, she turns
out to be treacherous, but weak and uninteresting in her uninspired
evil.
Perhaps
the most successful character in this tale is Sul Tarkus, the prophet
of the Father-God Kahmudj, leader of the hordes who lay siege to the
holy mountain and the body of Adita. With his charisma and his
fanatic certainty that he is the incarnation of his god, he is
intensely believable (and indeed, familiar). When he finally stands
face to face with Adita and is vanquished by his own doubts, the
reader feels relief and joy, but also sympathy.
Woman
of the Mountain is at its best in the scenes of high drama, when
the mysteries of divine power are made manifest. When Sul Tarkus
captures and opens the sacred floodgates on the River Sorrow, loosing
the torrent to flow into the desert lands even as he dangles the
sex-besotted Rivah above the abyss, I hardly dared to breath. I
half-expected him to sacrifice her to his brutal god. I half-expected
the power of Zenthe to rise in the traitorous priestess, calling her
back to fulfill her long-ignored vows. When Sul Tarkus confronts
Adita, alone at the pinnacle of Zenthe’s Needle, I knew that a
miracle was imminent. And when the volcano/goddess belches lava and
steam to fight off her attackers, I became a true a believer.
All in
all, I found Woman of the Mountain diverting
but disappointing. The grand themes of sexual union as a sacrament,
of devotion and sacrifice to a higher power, of love as a force
transcending death and time, rise in the background, but they are
obscured, like Zenthe’s face behind its seductive veil. I have the
sense that Ms. Caperton wanted to write a different book, a book of
erotic mysteries that celebrates the magic of the flesh. Of course,
her audience may prefer the book that she actually produced, full of
saucy wenches and lively, superficial rolls in the hay. As for me, I
regret the loss of the vision that I sense behind this book, the
hints of transcendence that are, for the most part, unrealized.
Please
note: This book won first prize for erotica in the prestigious EPIC
ebook competition in 2007, when it was first released. So obviously
not everyone agrees with me!
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