The Mists of Avalon is a retelling of the story of King Arthur, portraying the rise of Arthur as a conflict between the new Christianity and the older Druidic religions. Arthur is entrusted with reconciling these two increasingly antagonistic faiths; how he both lives up to and betrays this responsibility constitutes the core of this book. Naturally there are other ideas in this book--in particular, a running debate about the role of women in politics and society, and frequent diatribes on man's relationship with nature. But all these issues are merely aspects of the central religious conflict. Along the way we meet all the familiar Arthurian characters, all of them slightly modified to fit within Bradley's new framework--Merlin, Guinevere (here spelled Gwenhwyfar), Lancelet, Mordred, Niniane, and, most significantly, Morgaine.
Structurally, the problem with the book is that it plods on, and on, and on. It's a huge book, and it could easily have been cut at least in half without affecting its content whatsoever. And it's not as if every page is filled with new and exciting details; most of the time the same characters simply repeat the same actions in the same settings, only at different times--for instance, Morgaine constantly falls into the Sight while weaving, Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet make doe-eyes at each other, Mordred is evil, Arthur jests with his Companions, etc. etc. etc. There are occasional moments where Bradley displays a real talent for portraying conflict and tension in only a few pages (in particular, Gwenhwyfar manipulating Arthur toward Christian ways); it's too bad that those moments are few and far between.
But my biggest problem with the book lies in another area. Ultimately Bradley argues that Christianity as it is practiced (though not as it was meant to be practiced) degrades women and calls evil what is merely natural (particularly with issues of sex). This makes Christianity a Bad Religion. The religion of Avalon, on the other hand--that which worships the Goddess, or that sees all gods as one, or that sees nature as God, it's not entirely clear-is a Good Religion because it is tolerant and "natural."
If Bradley's point were merely that tolerance is better than dogmatism of any kind--with a certain pernicious brand of Christianity held up as the quintessential example of such dogmatism--then the message of her book would have been just fine. But the religion of Avalon is not just tolerance. It is, as much as Christianity is, another religion, with its own tenets, its own principles, its own commandments. In other words, it too is intolerant, and contemptuous of disbelievers.
Now if Bradley had actually tried to argue that the religion of Avalon is better than th religion of Christianity, this book would have been interesting. But instead The Mists of Avalon employs the crassest form of fictional control, reminiscent of Ayn Rand in her own didactic tomes. So we read throughout Mists of evil, dishonest, or fanatical priests--with hardly any mention of a good priest, or a priest honestly striving to do the right thing. And, on the other hand, we have the wise, merciful, kind, tolerant Druids--in particular, the increasingly insufferable Taliesen--who laugh gently at their misguided Christian brethren and attempt to explain to them--with simple words, as to a child--that all gods are one, and that the Goddess will do as she will with men.
But Avalon forces its people to do all sorts of crap, and in the end those people are supposed to just accept their fate, as dogmatic and fatalistic as the Christianity that Bradley attacks.
Now it's true that Mists is not quite so straightforward, and there is some hand-waving from Bradley to indicate that, yes, she is trying to cast doubt on the Druids too. But the problem is that none of it seems very honest. It would really have shaken things up if there had been a really good priest in the book, or a truly evil druid from Avalon. And it would have improved the book immeasurably if its ultimate lesson were not to submit to the fate of the Goddess, since what she ordains will be no matter what you will. What a terrible, fatalistic, and unconvincingly argued lesson.
If you like King Arthur and really don't like Christianity, you'll probably get a kick out of this book; I have to admit that Bradley does get in a couple of zingers against Christianity (again, as it is practiced, not as it was meant to be practiced). But as a novel, and a diatribe, The Mists of Avalon ultimately fails.
Copyright © 2002 Steven Wu 