In one of the early chapters of Douglas Bond’s The Betrayal, the main character fakes the voice of God, pretending to speak from on high to a praying John Calvin. Despite his youth, Calvin isn’t deceived by the trick, but the scene is still clever and amusing. Unfortunately, it sets up potential for strong characterization and conflict in this historical/biographical novel that is never fully realized. The Betrayal is certainly a worthwhile read for those who are interested in the life of John Calvin or readers who enjoy biography for its own sake. Lovers of historical fiction, however, may find the novel less compelling.

The Betrayal is set up as a memoir of Jean-Louis Mourin, in which he confesses his betrayal of John Calvin. Bond begins the novel with an unnecessary frame story set in the first World War, but he quickly jumps back into the life of Calvin. The narrator is Mourin, a young man with a gift for eavesdropping, subterfuge and sneaking around. He grows up hating Calvin, whom he sees as unfairly privileged in intellect, gifts, and status. So, when the opportunity is (implausibly) granted him to work his way into Calvin’s confidence, obtain evidence of heresy and turn him over to the king, Mourin takes it—only to have find himself torn by his decision and won over by the truth of God’s word.

The premise of The Betrayal is a fascinating one, and it should lend itself to rich drama and gripping narrative. But the book reads more like history or biography than it does a compelling novel. The narrative is streamlined to such an extent that most of the scenes never really come alive. The main characters are somewhat flat, making it difficult to get to know or understand them as humans.

Calvin comes off as devout and intelligent but also as rather boring and sanctimonious. I have read a couple of true biographies of Calvin, and it seems entirely possible that Bond’s portrayal of him is an accurate one. But, in the context of a novel, it’s hard to care about such a stuffy bore.

The characterization of Mourin has more promise. In the beginning, Bond gives him a captivating, twisted complexity. His obsession with Calvin is creepy, and his response to his family’s death from the plague is so unnatural as to be fascinating. But the abrupt turn of his character is never fully developed. It’s not clear why he changes his mind about betraying Calvin, and the explanations that are provided are not convincing from a psychological perspective. The rich potential in Mourin’s character is not fulfilled because ultimately Bond is more interested in Calvin than in Mourin.

That said, the extent of historical and biographical information Bond manages to work into the novel is impressive and, as far as I can tell, readers can trust that Calvin’s life, teaching, and conversation as portrayed in The Betrayal is accurate and sound. The novel is stylistically well-written and certainly more readable than most biographies, so it provides an accessible way to enter into the life of John Calvin. The long conversations in which Bond integrates revised passages from Calvin’s letters, commentaries and theological writings bog down the narrative to a distracting extent, but they do allow the reader to better understand Calvin’s teaching and are certainly more engaging than the original texts.

If one’s purpose in reading The Betrayal is to learn more about Calvin, then no one will be disappointed. But I love what good historical fiction can offer—convincing characterization and real, human drama played out within a compelling moment of history. And this novel loses some of that in its insistence on teaching the reader about Calvin.
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Dr. Susannah Clements, is Chair of the Department of Language and Literature at Regent University School of Undergraduate Studies in Virginia Beach, Va.