Follett's medieval sequel

AT more than 1,000 pages, Ken Follett's "World Without End" comes perilously close to fulfilling the promise of its title. The second of the thriller writer's medieval novels, this new supersized story inspires the same question posed by its doorstop predecessor: Too fat to pick up, or too engrossing to put down? Naturally the author plumps for the latter: Sure of interest in the project, he invited a crew to film him writing the monster, and the program aired in his native Britain last month.

All this excess will delight the Follett faithful, accustomed to his whipsaw plotting and repeated recourse to violence and rapine. Like his previous medieval effort, "The Pillars of the Earth" (his most popular book to date), "World Without End" makes for giddy chutes-and-ladders reading; no situation can be reversed too often, no conflict resolved without serial surprises. Follett's Middle Ages -- bestial, political, venal -- are relentlessly eventful.

The setting is Kingsbridge, a stout market town in the heart of England whose 12th century cathedral builders were put through the Follett wringer in "Pillars." Now comes the turn of their descendants, as the novel follows four principals through the first half of the calamitous 14th century. Two spirited women -- one a stubborn and lovesick serf, the other a preternaturally intelligent merchant's daughter -- lead tempestuous lives intertwined with those of two sons of a ruined nobleman. One boy becomes a master architect; the other, rotten to the core, rises in the ranks of the aristocracy through the application of strategic atrocity. As children, these four witnessed a murder on which the kingdom's fate hinged; as adults, they struggle for power and position amid the interest groups in the town: monastery, nunnery and merchants' guild.

While the story zigzags mostly around this foursome and their weddings and beddings, along the way Follett has his many characters work out the mechanics of medieval bridge building, wool dyeing, market trading, medicinal bleeding and tax levying. These nuts-and-bolts dialogues are edifying, even if at times the enterprising townspeople sound, alas, like the guileless problem solvers of "The Magic School Bus." Where Follett excels, however, is in the dramatization of the politics of clergymen versus burghers versus nobles -- the constant tug of war that made medieval life as contentious as our age of litigation. Monastic politics, for example, usually come coated with dust in academic histories; here, thanks to Follett's breezy, anachronistic style, the obscure infighting is fresh and diverting. Thus we are treated to the memorable prior of the monastery in Kingsbridge, incompetent at everything save acquiring and maintaining power, and his Karl Rove-like sidekick, adept at playing dirty tricks and sliming reputations. Like the current White House, the two move from one catastrophic decision to the next, all the while maintaining the upper hand.