Professional Reviews
Bryan M. Litfin, Ph.D.
Associate Professor of Theology, Moody Bible Institute
Amy Peterson has captured the spirit of early Christianity in her gripping novel of life and death in the ancient church. The characters are authentic inhabitants of the Roman Empire, and yet they live out their faith in ways that are timeless and relevant for all generations. The theology of martyrdom--so central to the early church's perspective--is skillfully woven into the texture of the story.
Perpetua is a hagiography for our day: an historically accurate passion narrative that is imagined in rich detail and compelling in its spiritual demands on the Christian reader. In this novel a heroine of the faith is given a new voice, and the Paraclete is invited to do his transforming work in a fresh way.
Christian Book Previews
Reviewed by: Katie Hart
Product Rating: 5 out of 5
Debauchery. Promiscuousness. Killing babies. Drinking parties. Far-off stories of persecution. Is this 21st century America? No. Third century Carthage provides the backdrop for a young woman coming of age in Amy Rachel Peterson’s Perpetua. Having grown up under her moral father’s watchful eye, Perpetua is shocked by the corruptions permeating her social circle and beyond, yet they hold a certain lure for her. When her mother and brother return from a long vacation, Perpetua puzzles over the changes she sees in their lives, then learns they have joined a dreaded, mysterious cult. They are Christians. Perpetua tries to understand how her mother and Saturninus could forsake the gods they’ve worshipped for years, to risk their lives in near atheism. Then, in a moment of agonized clarity, she sees the idols for what they really are, and her one refuge is the faith she’s so despised. This riveting first-person novel draws on historical facts from the diary of the actual Perpetua. More than just a simple read, the book immerses the reader into the ancient Roman Empire with skill and intimacy. The plot pulses steadily with several twists and surprises, yet the depth of the prose causes the reader to linger, sipping insights like nectar. Romance occurs in the latter half of the novel, but the crux of the book is the passionate love story between Christ and His church.
NinetyandNine.com
Reviewed by: Jessica L. Simpson
“Please, before the gods,” she seized my arms, “tell me you are not a Christian!”
“I cannot swear to you by any of the gods you worship, Paulina. But can tell you of the One True God. Whom I love.”
“Don’t you see? If you stay a Christian, you might be killed.” Terror lept in and out of her eyes. I have never seen a woman so fearful. “Killed, Perpetua! Dead!” She shook me. “You have a son,” she pled, growing frantic.
“I choose Jesus.”
With one statement of faith, she was condemned to death, thrown to the beasts of the coliseum. It is a story transformed into legend—a romance, a historical biography, and a theological commentary.
Perpetua boldly recounts the narrative of a young noblewoman from ancient Carthage who comes to the knowledge of Jesus Christ. Her resistance to pagan, Roman religions ultimately leads to her death. Perpetua became a martyr for Jesus Christ and is adopted by Christians throughout the ages as an emblem of feminine Christian strength.
Amy Rachel Peterson’s historical fiction novel is creative and poetic. Touchstones of modern culture are set in the structure of antiquity to tell a remarkably simple story. Romance, girlish giddiness, social competition, and spiritual warfare are grafted into the ancient Roman background: vivid descriptions of buildings, mobs, pagan worship, and Roman ideology.
Yet Peterson writes any way but simply. Her fusion of Latin and English challenge the reader to grasp the entirety of Rome, in speech and thought. And yet her Latin references are not awkward, but smooth and natural, as if the storyteller was a hybrid of ancient Rome and millennial America.
Though the story could be told in a few short chapters (as it has been done before), Peterson creates layers of creative tension. There is an obvious spiritual battle, epitomized by Perpetua’s own dramatic conversion. Peterson doesn’t conjure spiritual warfare from the gossamer realities of angels and demons, but rather gives them faces, personalities, and places in everyday society. Greedy, self-serving socialites and bitter, vengeful servants juxtapose the sincere and honest-hearted seekers—the devout, humble Christians. It gives the reader a true understanding of the scripture, “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Ephesians 6:12).
Layers of family history and social division turn the narrative into an involved journey into the heart of the heroine and the culture. Tertullian, the great apologetic and forerunner in the Arian controversy, appears in this novel as a wise (and somewhat legalistic) shepherd—a presbyter over a large congregation in Carthage, one that Perpetua’s mother is a part. Peterson does not back down from theological controversy in this narrative. She illustrates the Christian leaders just as they were—sincere, yes, but heady, arrogant, and a bit malicious when their personal views about Jesus Christ and the Scriptures were crossed.
“You act like a bunch of drunkards,” he growled, “you wave your hands and sway like you’re a pagan procession in the filthy streets, your women dance. Dance!” he spit out the word as if it was dirty.
“We must love the Lord with all our heart and soul and strength. Not just our mind,” Aspasius was flushed, but calm.
“Come, Aspasius, do not throw Scripture around as if it were your own private tool.”
Peterson’s gritty description of monumental instances in church history makes the truth accessible to the reader. Though it is a romantic novel, it is not romanticized. Christians are not depicted as flawless saints. The reader can identify with the characters—their faults, emotions, questions, and ultimate triumphs.
Perpetua is an ancient story with profound modern applications. The effort to keep oneself pure in light of sexual awakening, the longing for physical love, then for spiritual fulfillment and ultimately the submission to God’s perfect will is what makes this narrative universal.
When it is finished, the reader will discover the true peace of Jesus Christ—remaining steadfast and fearless no matter what is lurking in the shadows. Even when faced with imminent death, the reader can have the strength to say, “I choose Jesus.”
© 2005, Jessica L. Simpson
Jessica L. Simpson currently resides in Dover, DE with her husband of two years. She thinks Perpetua was a truly remarkable icon in Christian history. She also thinks everyone should be required to study Ancient Roman History.
Historical Fiction Review
Reviewed by: Lynda Ochsner
Perpetua: Historical Fiction About an Early Church Martyr
Perpetua: A Bride, A Passion, A Martyr, by first-time author Amy Rachel Peterson, tells a fascinating story which is made all the more interesting because it is based on a true one. In 203 A.D., five recently converted Christians in Carthage were turned over to the authorities for the crime of converting to Christianity, during the reign of Septimius Severus. These five included 22-year-old Perpetua, a noble woman with a baby; also two slaves, Felicitas and Revocatus; and Secundus and Saturninus. Saturus, their leader/mentor, soon turned himself in, to join these catechumen (converted less than three years before) in martyrdom. Perpetua is perhaps most remembered because she kept a diary during her capture. Her written account, and a subsequent eyewitness account, tells us of the imprisonment and martyrdom, but little is known about Perpetua (or her companions) before that point.
This novel attempts to fill that unknown part, depicting with great detail a fictional story about Perpetua’s last three years of life. From a dramatic conversion experience, through early days of immaturity followed by spiritual growth and understanding, Perpetua approaches her destiny even as she experiences the normal stages of young life. The 19-year-old living at her parents’ home soon falls in love, marrying and becoming a mother to a young son.
Two of the other martyred Christians appear prominently: Saturninus as Perpetua’s brother, and Saturus as her husband. Though these relationships are most likely fictional, the story is interesting and thus involves the other martyred characters. Felicitas and Revocatus also have an interesting story, at first on the sidelines but revealed later on as martyrdom approaches. A cast of mostly fictional characters completes the world of ancient Carthage, as Perpetua in her daily life moves among the different social circles – her wealthy pagan friends from the years past along with her new friends (mostly from the lower social classes), that meet in small house-churches. The early church leader Tertullian is also present, a minor character (in terms of actual dialogue) but a major part of the early Christians’ lives, as they discuss his ideas.
The author has done an excellent job, too, with her historical research, blending in the social and religious dynamics of Carthage, creating a world that Perpetua might very well have experienced. The Punic influence still abides, harkening back to an earlier civilization (originally settled by Tyre) crushed by Rome. This later society speaks both Latin and Punic, and some of Punic descent mingle with the pure-blooded Romans. The author wonderfully describes Carthage’s plethora of gods and goddesses with a wry sort of humor, exposing the moral hypocrisy of the times. As one character puts it, a woman can partake in sexual immorality to please Venus at night, and then give offerings to Isis (for the women who deny such pleasures) the next morning: "please Venus at night, Isis in the morning." Other aspects of the story likewise reflect the Carthaginian spirit: festivals for their god Tanit, and even the dark underworld of pagans still practicing the old religion of child sacrifice.
The story’s outcome, martyrdom, is known and clear from the beginning; and perhaps the theme of impending martyrdom is overdone, as though the characters knew from the very beginning what would happen. Still, Christians of that time no doubt considered such things, given the hostile climate they faced in a land that did not understand such "freedom of religion" American concepts we so take for granted.
The author skillfully blends the fictional with the true story, fitting all the pieces together even to the ending, which is largely based on the actual document of "The Passion of the Holy Martyrs Perpetua and Felicitas." In a clever, interesting way the author creates rich details of real characters behind the names of those only mentioned in that document, such as Quintus and Jocundus. Perhaps to avoid publishing bad doctrine, this novel also offers a more theologically-sound twist on the real Perpetua’s dreams about her lost brother, Dinocrates, who had died of cancer at a young age. Perpetua: A Bride, A Martyr, a Passion is an excellent book that focuses attention on a story we don’t hear much about today, while enlightening us about ancient Rome -- a setting further back than most historical novels care to consider.
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