The Cloisters, by Katy Hays
Ann Stilwell is a young academic in the field of Renaissance art history. At the start of the book she arrives in New York ready to begin her research placement at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. But before she has a chance even to set foot in the building, the arrangement changes. People have inexplicably moved, plans have suddenly changed, and Ann is reassigned, last minute, to The Cloisters. This happened by chance - or perhaps it didn't. The Cloisters is a museum of the gothic, and its research focus is the study of fate itself. Before Ann knows what is happening, she is drawn into an intimate world of toxic secrets, occult magic and academic ambition, where she isn't quite in control of her own destiny.
This book intrigued me right from the start, because it used a quote from Oedipus as its epigraph: the first day of human life already establishes the last. Oedipus is the single most chilling, most tragic, most irrefutable tale of doomed fate in the literary canon. The way it so tauntingly binds together freedom of choice with the inevitability of prophecy is as masterful as it is devastating - and 'The Cloisters' was setting itself up within this same framework. Invoking Oedipus was a pretty bold move, I thought: Hays was giving herself big boots to fill. But it was certainly enticing, and when the book then opened with Ann's fateful redirection to The Cloisters, I was excited to see what more Hays was going to do with this mighty theme.
My verdict is it didn't quite live up to Oedipus (well, could anything ever attain such height?), but it was definitely skilful. Ann and her colleagues Rachel and Patrick are researching historical fortune-telling practices, particularly tarot, and the more absorbed Ann becomes in this world of scholarly obsession, the more the lines blur between historical research and present reality. The deck of tarot cards she is studying begins to resonate into her personal life, and she often finds herself wondering whether she was destined to be working at The Cloisters, whether it was chance, or whether Rachel and Patrick are controlling more than they are letting on.
For me, Hays's most compelling use of fate in this book was linked to this last point: other people being more in control than they claim to be. Although the book was founded on the age-old question of how much we can control our own fates, Hays was actually doing something quite sophisticated with the idea of controlling other people's destinies. The academic world Ann finds herself in is one of jealousy, coercion, influence, and intellectual and social power divides. It's also a culture of ruthless self-advancement: in such a niche research field, everyone is seeking academic success and credibility, and this all too often requires shooting their competitors down. The intertwining of professional and personal in the intimacy of The Cloisters only magnifies this toxicity - and Hays masterfully critiques the ambiguous morality of certain influences her characters have on others. It becomes quite chilling, and I rather liked it.
The other thing I liked about this book was its absolutely sumptuous language. It was just so well-written. Ann's story moves from one aesthetic setting to the next: it's either the gothic candlelit library with its vaulted ceiling, stained glass windows, oak tables and walls of precious leather-bound books, or it's Rachel's sweeping coastal mansion with its stylish furniture, polished floors and overflowing fruit-bowls. Everything is lush, everything is opulent. Hays describes it all with gorgeous detail, vivid and sensuous. We are told the names of things, the colours of things, the smells, the textures. The language is so rich that as a reader you find yourself undeniably enchanted, drawn in to Ann's world.
This is what's clever about 'The Cloisters' overall: as we read about Ann Stilwell being slowly but inevitably sucked into the toxicity of The Cloisters, we ourselves are simultaneously seduced. The mysteries of the cards have an undeniable magnetism, conversations crackle with sexual tension, and when this is all unspooled with Hays's luxuriant language, it's very difficult not to be just as captivated as Ann. I think if I had to describe this book in one word I would say alluring. What Hays has written concerns dangerous attraction in many guises, and the writing does itself attract and intoxicate the reader. At one point, Ann discovers a card with a false front: she peels away the surface layer to reveal a much darker image underneath. This little moment works well as a metaphor for our reading experience: when we are tempted beyond the aesthetic facade of The Cloisters, we discover a much more sinister but somehow even more enticing reality.
Overall, I really enjoyed this book. Dark, twisty, sensual, morally juicy and linguistically rich, it successfully reeled me in and satiated me. If you're after dark academia, 'The Cloisters' is definitely one for your list.
