About 422 minutes
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Utopias Future Societies Other Worlds
96,890 recorded words. 58 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #872For A Monk of Fife Being the Chronicle Written by Norman Leslie of Pitcullo, Concerning Marvellous Deeds That Befell in the Realm of France, in the Years of Our — Background and Themes, the stored edition analysis reports 110,173 words, 8 hr estimated reading time, and 9 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 25.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Joan, of Arc, Saint, 1412-1431 -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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About 422 minutes
Utopias Future Societies Other Worlds
96,890 recorded words. 58 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #872About 570 minutes
Utopias Future Societies Other Worlds
130,999 recorded words. 90 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #1095About 384 minutes
Utopias Future Societies Other Worlds
88,128 recorded words. 96 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
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Read on Project GutenbergAndrew Lang's A Monk of Fife presents itself as a translation of a lost Latin chronicle written by Norman Leslie of Pitcullo, a Scottish soldier who claims to have fought alongside Joan of Arc. The novel's prefatory material—a dedication, a scholarly preface, and a note on the supposed manuscript—establishes a layered fiction: the reader is meant to believe they are encountering a genuine historical document, not a Victorian novel. This framing device is sustained by the narrator's voice, which mixes archaic English with the blunt observations of a man-at-arms.
The excerpt provided centers on a single, claustrophobic scene: the narrator, wounded and bedridden, is visited by a treacherous friar, Brother Thomas, who attempts to smother him. The tension escalates when D'Aulon, a historical figure from Joan's retinue, arrives at the door. The passage showcases Lang's skill at building suspense through dialogue and physical detail, while also revealing the narrator's cunning—he has tricked the friar into signing a false confession.
Lang's novel is built around a fictional manuscript: the Latin Chronicle of Norman Leslie, supposedly written in 1461 and now lost. The preface, written in Lang's own voice, treats this document with mock-scholarly seriousness, citing real editions and manuscripts. This device allows Lang to blend historical fact with invented detail, as the narrator claims to have been present at Joan's martyrdom—a claim the preface notes is unfulfilled in the surviving Latin copies.
The narrator's voice is that of a Scottish soldier, not a monk, despite the title. He refers to himself as a clerk and a man-at-arms, and his language is earthy and direct. The framing creates a tension between the pious expectations of a monastic chronicle and the gritty reality of medieval warfare. Lang uses this to comment on the nature of historical record: the narrator's account is personal, biased, and incomplete, much like the fragmentary Latin manuscripts he claims to have translated.
The central scene in the excerpt is a confrontation between the wounded narrator, the treacherous friar Brother Thomas, and the loyal squire D'Aulon. Brother Thomas, who has infiltrated Joan's company under a false identity, attempts to murder the narrator by suffocation. His speech is laced with religious hypocrisy: he calls himself a 'poor and lowly follower of the blessed Francis' while plotting murder. D'Aulon, by contrast, acts with blunt force, bursting in with dagger drawn and accusing the friar directly.
The narrator, though weak, outwits the friar by substituting a written confession for the one the friar dictated. This moment of clerical trickery—'a clerk hath great power beyond the simple and unlettered'—reverses the power dynamic. The scene is a microcosm of the novel's larger themes: trust and betrayal, appearance and reality, and the role of writing as both a weapon and a shield.
Joan of Arc appears in this excerpt only through the words of others. Brother Thomas claims she brought him to the narrator's bedside; D'Aulon says she sent him back to expose the friar. The Maid herself is not present, but her authority governs the action. This indirect presentation is characteristic of the novel's approach: Joan is a figure of veneration and mystery, seen through the eyes of her followers rather than directly.
The narrator's own attitude toward Joan is hinted at but not fully developed in the excerpt. He refers to her as 'the blessed Maid,' a term of respect, but the scene focuses on his own survival and cunning. The novel's title promises a monk's chronicle, but the narrator is a soldier first, and his priorities are practical: escape, revenge, and the preservation of his own life. This tension between the sacred and the secular runs through the work.
Readers approaching A Monk of Fife should attend to the interplay between the frame narrative and the action. Lang's scholarly preface invites skepticism about the manuscript's authenticity, while the narrator's voice insists on its truth. The novel rewards attention to small details—a barred window, a written confession, a dagger hilt—that carry weight beyond their immediate function. The excerpts suggest a work that is as much about the nature of testimony as about the events it describes.
I still recall the chill of that bedside in Lang’s chronicle, that shiver of deceit unraveling. It put me in mind of another sort of rambling, where the quiet stroll of an idle mind finds its own gentle truths. Both hold that peculiar warmth of a tale told sideways, by someone who simply happened to be there. Some Rambling Notes of an Idle Excursion — A Reader’s Guide feels like that same fireside murmur.
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