Langue[dot]doc 1305

INTRODUCTION “‘If everything continues to run smoothly, we should have four people in Medieval Languedoc by this time tomorrow night.’” It seems incongruous to use the word ‘authentic’ in regard to most works of speculative fiction, thanks to their flights of fancy, and it may seem problematic to apply it to a novel that hinges on the sentence quoted above — but it’s the stylish no-nonsense authenticity of Langue[dot]doc 1305 that makes it such a memorable and outstanding work. Part of this novel’s authenticity derives from its author’s background. Gillian Polack worked in the Australian public service for ten years, and that period of extended experience (and close observation) pays off in this novel. Her scientists and academics are thoroughly credible, weighed down by the all-too-crucial side-issues of funding and contracts, longing to get back to their core function of research and inquiry . . . and simultaneously self-conscious about the naïveté and outmodedness of such an attitude. Longing to be at the cutting edge — and, ironically, right on the cusp of success — they must nevertheless be reinventing themselves and their true function. It’s all about money and opportunity; Gillian Polack gets it. I knew of Gillian’s writing long before I ever met her. When she first broached the matter of a time-travel novel as a possible PhD project, she mentioned that the setting would be Medieval France — and that set my sensors beeping. You see, Dr Polack (to use her rightful designation) held a PhD in Medieval History — as well as being the shortlisted and award-winning author of two published novels and two anthologies — and she was now proposing to deploy her skills in a novel drawing upon her specialist field. Such a prospect was really exciting and, not surprisingly, Gillian’s historical expertise makes a major contribution to the novel’s authenticity — as does her sheer passion for the medieval. Above all, this book’s authenticity lies in its grasp of what human nature and human existence is all about. It achieves this, naturally, through its characterisation: the researchers are made to be interestingly complicated, but without the need to resort to the sensationalist hype of extreme psychopathologies; these are credibly ‘real’ people — albeit drawn from a certain demographic and exhibiting all the symptoms of certain work-cultures. I really came to like the protagonist, Artemisia, and to care about what might happen to her, and even if some characters look like letting the side down a little — that’s not a spoiler — you still understand their perspective and, I think, care about their fate. And that’s the thing that Gillian Polack really gets as a writer. She understands drama and story and what they derive from. The fate of The Whole Universe is never once threatened in this novel and you won’t be a-tremble that time-travel may Rip Apart the Fabric of Existence. Gillian Polack grasps that story is about people and their human fates, and that drama turns often on simple humdrum choices and the expression or suppression of mundane wants and needs. Great deeds and great research achievements rest upon the shoulders of plain human beings. It’s altogether too rare to be able to talk about speculative fiction in relation to nuanced characterisation and plausible character-motivation — but it’s certainly possible in relation to this quietly unpretentious, thoroughly engrossing novel. If everything continues to run smoothly, you’ll soon have embarked upon a memorable reading experience! — Van Ikin Perth, 2018