Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


As fiction, this wouldn't work: in isolation it has no weight, and no internal throughline. As historical fiction -- a reclamation of Thomas Cromwell and his rise to power in Henry VIII's court -- it is much more successful. The history lends dramatic irony, painful irony, bitter irony -- enough irony to choke an Oxford college. It makes this otherwise loose string of incidents and moments hang together, and I suspect for some people, it makes this book brilliant.

For me, I don't care about the historical. I mean I do, in a very abstract HBO show kind of way. But thing is, I have no stake in where Henry VIII was sticking his penis at any given time. And by 'where Henry was sticking his penis' I mean the entire straining web of massive political/religious changes dependent thereupon. I don't have a stake in that as a cultural heir, or even an observer's interest. I just . . . really don't care.

And if you take away the historical, what you're left with is a piece of fiction. And as noted above, it's not a very successful piece of fiction.

Don't get me wrong -- this book is, I suspect, quite accomplished. And little crystallized scraps of it are truly excellent images or crackling snips of people. And as a discussion of history turning on the conflicted, anguished, spoiled whims of one man, it's quite good. But her interest in redeeming Cromwell is too transparent, her moves on that board a little obvious for me, and of course it's easy to make a guy sympathetic when you stop the story before the more horrible things he did.

My favorite part, though? Ha, oh yes. That was absolutely and unquestionably all the pages and pages -- and I have no doubt, hours, weeks, months, and years -- of moaning in this book about Anne Boleyn's child, about how she'd let the king and her country down because her baby -- her daughter -- would not be strong enough to hold England.

Anne Boleyn's daughter, for those of you not playing along at home, was Elizabeth I.




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The Cold Commands by Richard K. Morgan

The Cold Commands by Richard K. Morgan

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


So it's weird, but I don't really get fantasy-scifi. I like fantasy, and I like scifi, and I love cool genre-bendy remixy mashuppy things. So you'd think putting scifi in my fantasy would be like putting peanut butter in my chocolate, but it's actually more like putting cottage cheese in my chocolate. Just because someone on Top Chef thinks it's a good idea doesn't mean we plebes actually want to eat it, amiright?

I dunno, I've also seen this as a bit of a personal failing, a weakness of imagination, maybe. It's just, you start mixing scifi elements -- aliens and tech -- into an epic fantasy story, and it doesn't feel like a cool J.Z. Vs. Vivaldi mashup to me, it just feels discordant and sloppy and untidy.

Any recommendations on this, btw? Scifi-fantasy blending that feels organic or cool instead of weird and rule breaking?

Aaanyway, so this book. I don't actually have much to say about it, obviously. Middle book of what was marketed as epic fantasy, but what is growing subtle scifi underpinnings. It's funny, because this book is tighter and more controlled than The Steel Remains, but I actually liked Steel better. There was something raw about it, like its messiness might end in your guts spilling out on the floor. There was less of a goring thrust to this one, and more fancy swordplay, if you follow me.

But you know, I just like his stuff. Always have, suspect I mostly will.




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