Overall an enjoyable read with engaging characters, the author's elite Cambridge professor's slip is showing throughout.
By the predictable end she's hardly wearing anything else.
What do I mean?
Well, the greatest of mystical cathedrals and it's contents are compelling old works of art, nothing more.
Having sex in front of the image of the Holy Virgin is basically like getting a hug from good old earth goddess Gaia.
The faith that built Chartres was misplaced as any educated person knows, and priests practice celibacy because they dislike sex or don't know any better.
Nuns are abusive hags or deluded saviors.
And on and on.
Catholic-bashing at its' finest.
Newsflash to writers of fiction: people of faith get degrees too.
They read lots of books.
Learn a little bit more about life's great mysteries before you imprint them with your self-satisfied assumptions.
I read this book because of my awe and love for Chartres and interest in a story set there.
I expected something deeper, something worthy to stand in its' great shadow.