Wolf Hall Trilogy | magnificent, vivid, audacious

Review: 5 stars

Wolf Hall has been on my list for a long while, but I had never been able to get past the first chapter. With the quarantine ongoing and the March release of the final novel in the trilogy - ‘The Mirror and the Light’, I decided to attempt it again. Suffice it to say, I was richly rewarded for my efforts!

Mantel is a maestro, firmly in her element in the historical fiction genre. This fictional biography of Thomas Cromwell, trusted councillor to the infamous Henry VIII, is meticulously researched and beautifully rendered. Her prose is steeped with Old English syntax, verses and aphorisms, yet it is easily digestible for the modern reader. Mantel deftly fills the chronological gaps in Cromwell’s life, improvising seamlessly on his transformation from wayward blacksmith’s son to initially become the king’s Master of Rolls. Her use of characters both fictional and factual molds the frame for her Cromwell - a maverick politician who is ambitious, vengeful, loyal and resourceful. Cromwell is a controversial character in English history; Mantel’s trilogy has served to revive interest in his legacy and serves as one of the most flattering portrayals of a key leader in the English Reformation.

While Mantel is unable to alter history itself, her interpretation of the inevitable procession of events preserves a crucial element of surprise. From the rise and demise of Anne Boleyn, the death of critical figures like St. Thomas More, and even Cromwell’s own descent from glory, the reader is kept guessing as to when the tide of king’s favour will turn. Moreover, the novels offer a convincing and novel perspective on what the court of King Henry VIII must have been like. The jockeying of gentleman and ladies for privy chamber positions, the granting of lyrical verses as tokens of affection, and the intense alliances and betrayals amongst the king’s councillors, are all fresh takes on a well known period in English history. Throughout the trilogy, Mantel offers thought provoking exposition on religion, the identity of England, the role of law, inheritance and legacy, and on the nature of being and serving a prince:

“Can you make a new England? You can write a new story. You can write new texts and destroy the old ones…and place gospels in every church. You can write on England, but what was written before keeps showing through, inscribed on the rocks and carrier on the floodwater, surfacing from deep cold wells.”

“He has lived by the laws he has made and out be content to die by them. But the law is not an instrument to find out truth. It is there to create a fiction that will help us move past atrocious acts and face our future.”

“Conquer your awe then, grab your chance. If you know how to talk to a giant it works like a spell. The monster becomes your creature. He thinks you serve him, but in fact you serve yourself.”

Despite being set between 1527-1540, I also found a number of parallels that can be drawn from the novel with politics today. For example, the tenuous relations between England, France and the Holy Roman Empire bear stark similarities with the politics between U.S., China and Russia today. King Henry’s capriciousness, vices, grandstanding and penchant for fractious leadership are resemblant of the current U.S. President. Henry VIII’s ruthlessness and willingness to depart from convention forever altered the fabric of English society and law, and it appears that the America is currently evolving in a similarly dramatic way. It was fascinating to me how timeless history can be.

Each novel in the trilogy stands on its own, helped in part by Mantel’s repetition of key Cromwell touchstones (e.g., his relationship with Cardinal Wolsey, his violent upbringing in Putney, his Antwerp intrigue with Anselma). It is a remarkable feat of fiction and recounting of history. My sole (and light) critique of the novel is Mantel’s dialogue style, which can make it challenging at times to differentiate the speaker given sparse attributions. This, in addition to the unavoidable scores of Thomases, Annes and Henrys that abound in the novel, create complexity and demand a focused reading to fully enjoy the novel. Overall, I highly, highly recommend the Wolf Hall trilogy - it is both a page turner and an emotionally absorbing experience.

The Remains of the Day | nostalgic, unhurried, exquisite

Review: 5 stars

I first discovered Kazuo Ishiguro in my 9th grade English class, when we read ‘Never Let Me Go’. Since then, I’ve been in an Ishiguro drought, and it wasn’t until he won the Nobel Prize for Literature that he popped back on my radar. I took this book on holiday to Italy with my extended family, and found a quiet afternoon in La Spezia to sip rose and to finish this book on a little balcony overlooking a busy side street.

Few books actually make me laugh out loud, but this one accomplished just that. ‘The Remains of the Day’ follows Stevens, an English butler steeped in the times and traditions of a 1920s and 1930s way of life that has long since faded from vogue. He embarks on a delightful and startling journey which takes him from his place of service at Darlington Hall through the English countryside, to visit Miss Kenton, the former housekeeper he worked alongside decades ago. His travels are far beyond physical in nature - rather, each gently rolling hill and forested vista unlock memories he has neglected in favour of pure concentration on his butler duties.

The humour and magic of the book is created through Stevens’ inability to fully process his past and his feelings. His musings are at times self-deprecating, backwardly self-congratulatory and often lacking in self-awareness. At turns, you find yourself in admiration of his spotless record of selfless service, and then quickly again, you are chuckling to yourself as he convinces himself that perhaps he is one of the most dignified butlers in English history. The prolonged disposition on what dignity means, in addition to Stevens growing understanding of the role Lord Darlington played in managing German-English relations in World War II, are all story arcs that unfold leisurely, without haste. Steven’s eventual admission of former romantic feelings for Miss Kenton (now Mrs. Benn) establishes itself as a pivotal moment of character development. Stevens is able to forgo the airs and pretences of being a butler to allow himself emotion.

While this novel may be too slow for some readers, I was enamoured by the nostalgic depictions of English life - a time when propriety, tradition, service and excellence were the aims of the day. I thought it was a simply delightful read, and probably one of Ishiguro’s most notable, masterful works.

Home Fire | incendiary, daring, unexpected

Review: 4 stars

I walked into BMVQ over the summer, and was immediately taken by the stunning cover of ‘Home Fire’. I’m a fairly risk averse reader - I try not to judge a book by its cover, and I rely heavily on awards, reviews and ‘best of’ lists before affirming my choices. Luckily, Home Fire was a Top 100 pick of 2017 by the New York Times, so I happily bought it.

‘Home Fire’ is the story of three siblings - Isma, Aneeka and Parvaiz, who are ostracized from their Pakistani community in Britain because of their father’s legacy as a jihadi fighter. The novel is told in four voices - one for each sibling, with the final reserved for Karamat Lone - the father of Aneeka’s love interest, Eamonn, and Britain’s Home Secretary.

Isma fatefully meets Eamonn while studying abroad in America, igniting a collision course that leads to fatal consequences. Three parallel plot lines weave in and out, steadily ratcheting up the novel’s tension. The first - Isma’s blossoming friendship and affection for Eamonn, which is countered by Aneeka and Eamonn’s passionate love affair. The second - Aneeka and her family’s burning disdain for Karamat, born from his rejection of his Muslim community and refusal to help resolve their father’s death. The third - Parvaiz’s seduction by ISIS and his subsequent journey to Syria to honour his father.

Shamsie’s writing is poetic and heartbreaking. The novel reads as a thriller at times - so compelling are the plot and the protagonists’ struggles. She employs mixed media to evoke the realism of how public opinion is presented (tweets, hashtags, news headlines), how youth communicate across oceans (texts, skype messages), and also how ISIS guides their pilgrims to the frontline (poems, Quran verses).

The ending is one of the most moving and shocking conclusions to a novel that I’ve come across. It requires re-reading to fully absorb the enormity of each person’s actions, and to fully bear witness to all-consuming love. Shamsie wields the perspective of a removed onlooker in the final scene to create an immutable newsreel of horror and beauty, and to allow the reader to pass judgement and propose motives.

I recommend this book to those looking for a moving, ambitious exploration of the intersection of political and private agendas, and the wide spectrum of Muslim expression.