r. John Dee has known power and respect, but now the famed occultist finds himself slipping out of Elizabethan England like a fugitive. For all his magic powers, Dee has never been able to scry, and so he took the mysterious Edward Kelley as his assistant. But Kelley's scrying roused a fallen angel, which took brief but terrifying possession of Dee's young daughter. Dee flees with his family and Kelley to the continent, hoping to escape the demon and preserve their souls.
Dee's flight brings him to Praha—Prague—the capital of the Holy Roman Empire. Here, seeking the patronage of the Hapsburg emperor, Dee meets an erudite older man, whom the Christian
occultist is astonished and anxious to learn is a Jew. But unmistakable portents indicate that Dee and Rabbi Judah Loew, though sons of enemy cultures, must work together. If they do not, the world will be destroyed.
According to Jewish tradition, "the world rests on the shoulders of 36 righteous men ... [I]f they die before their time, or leave the path of righteousness, the world will come to an end"—for whoever kills one of the 36 gains the power to remake the world however he pleases. But only God knows who the 36 are. Loew and Dee must combine their alien talents to discover the identity of the 36th man, and save him—before either the mad Hapsburg emperor, the treacherous Edward Kelley or the fallen angel finds the man and creates a literal Hell on Earth. But even with Creation itself at stake, can a Christian and a Jew make common cause?
And that's not the only problem. A mysterious crone follows Dee, demonstrating magical powers no woman should possess. Maidens are vanishing, and some say the beautiful Countess Erszebet Bathory maintains her youth by bathing in their blood. Dee helps Loew create a golem, a clay man, to protect the Jewish Quarter from the emperor's soldiers—but only God may create life. Prague—Praha,
which means threshold—is the dangerous doorway between not only East and West, but the realms of flesh and spirit. If Dee and Loew save the 36th man, they will close the door between men and angels, and banish all magic from the world. Yet if they fail, the world will be destroyed.
Brevity isn't always a virtue
Set in the Eastern Europe of the 1500s, a troubled region largely ignored in American fantasy, Lisa Goldstein's stand-alone novel The Alchemist's Door successfully blends many perceived opposites—Christian and Jew, Kabbalah and alchemy, East and West, male and female, flesh and spirit—to create a fresh and intelligent fantasy.
The theme of opposites that form wholes, two sides of one coin,
has recurred in Ms. Goldstein's fiction since her masterful first
novel, the American Book Award winner The Red Magician.
The Alchemist's Door also combines two of Ms. Goldstein's
interests that some might, falsely, find opposed: Eastern European
Jewish tradition (the basis of The Red Magician) and the
history of the purely Christian Elizabethan England (visited
previously in her novel Strange Devices of the Sun and
Moon).
However, despite the thematic and other strengths, some readers
may feel shortchanged by a rare problem: The Alchemist's
Door isn't long enough. Too often, the narrative relies on
summary where dramatization would be more effective. The novel
opens with the Dee family's flight from England, but the storm that
traps their ship in port for four days is disposed of in three
paragraphs, which dilutes the tension considerably.
While the
summarization creates a brisk pace, it frustrates the readers'
desire to know the characters well, even Dee and Loew. It also
undercuts the feminist subtext, reducing Dee's and Loew's spouses
to stereotypical patient, supportive wives-and-mothers, even as the
magic-wielding crone challenges assumptions about age and gender.
Nor does the summary style allow sufficient development of the
theme of man usurping the Creator's role.
Despite the rushed pace, The Alchemist's Door is a thoughtful, rewarding novel that explores the complexities of life in an uncommon and fascinating setting.
