For me this is a great story that was told poorly. Long first person sections were repetitive and annoying. When I got to the end of the book, I still didn't feel like I knew the character, only the main events of her life, and half the book was a "confessional" to a priest! I never felt true love, passion, regret, motivation etc from Julie. The third person sections were too short and non-descriptive. I really wanted to love this book because she led a fascinating life.

The story was interesting. Except I thought she was supposed to be a pirate, what happened to that.

Three and a half, and I've teetered back and forth on scaling it up or down. I enjoyed reading this, and found the character crafted for La Maupin to be layered and complex and compelling - she's arrogant and fragile, wild and nervous, vain and completely tortured. She's defined by how society is opposed to her, and by how she refuses to step down from who she is because of that. Which is a strong and beautiful and powerful message, and a struggle that I enjoy seeing played out in fiction, all the better to represent, support and educate about those who have to fight it every day for real.

But I remain uncertain about some of the style choices made in the telling. Chapters of pared-back narrative are interspersed with the first-person meandering recollections of La Maupin near death, confessing to a priest. I found these sections a little too introspective, a little too wofflingly erudite and full of musings on the real point of things, which (for me) broke up the rhythm and immersion of the narrative, turning that interspersed narrative into discrete anecdotes rather than a flowing, driving, swallowing plunge of story. I would have preferred more feeling and living of La Maupin's life, rather than the endless pulling-back-to-reflect. (I also would have loved to just be more immersed in the world. I wanted to know so much more about the opera French and Italian, about society, about the world we moved through.)

I'll also note that this was labelled by my library as YA - possibly because the author's previous books have been YA. I am not sure it really is. While it does have important explorations of coming of age and defining your own identity despite what society tells you of reality, it also pushes beyond that into rather sex-and-death, hollowness-of-being adult territory. To be honest, perhaps a better YA version of the "girls taking the power society would deny them", complete with opera and queerness and swordplay, is [b:The Privilege of the Sword|821583|The Privilege of the Sword (Riverside, #2)|Ellen Kushner|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1389595637s/821583.jpg|4003].

A memorable, unexpected character with an appealing voice. Julie, "La Maupin," is a romantic, flamboyant figure who actually lived in 17th century France. There's plenty of swashbuckling, romance, and humor in her tale, but the best part is the fascinating evocation of the world of the Opera and the art of singing. Because the narrator's ego is so huge, she can sometimes become tiresome (and a little too lengthy) in her own praise, but this is balanced by occasional chapters told from an external point of view. Fans of opera will appreciate the novel's clever structuring into acts and musical movements; fans of swordplay will find plenty of period fencing details; history buffs will enjoy the catty but historically accurate presentation of the Sun King's opulent court. Like its heroine, who dresses in men's clothes and passionately pursues both male and female lovers, this tale has something for everyone.

Fantastic subject material with some wonderful elements. However, the framing device and short chapters overburdened with 'tell' made this harder to read than it should have been. I would have preferred a more cohesive narrative about this truly remarkable woman.

The subject of this book is utterly fascinating: Madame de Maupin really was a cross-dressing, fencing, opera-singing bisexual. This is one of those stories that would be utterly implausible, if it weren't based on fact (although I would be curious to read a critical assessment of the evidence about her). So given this source material, it's pretty much impossible not to write a compelling book. The story is fascinating and worth reading, but I think Gardiner is a little heavy-handed. It reads as a transcript of a death-bed confession. Third-person narration alternates with Julie's monologues to the priest who is taking her confession. These monologues get pretty annoying: they take up way too much of the book and do not drive the story forward. They foreshadow things that do not come to pass. They skip over some of the major events of her life. They over-dramatize a character who is already very dramatic. So all in all, I'm glad I read the book because it's such a fascinating story, but it could have been written better.

I think it's finally time to call this book quits. I'm devastated that I didn't like it (and that I couldn't force myself past 10%) because Julie D'Aubigny is one of my favourite historical figures and I adore it whenever I can read about her. I thought I'd love this book and I couldn't even finish it, the whole tone, voice and writing style just rubbed me the wrong way. I found it highly annoying and had to just call it a bad job eventually.