Gregory once again demonstrates her flair for dramatizing history.
Second in Gregory’s series about the War of the Roses, this time featuring a determined matriarch of the Lancastrian clan.
Margaret Beaufort, a cousin of Henry VI, vows from an early age to be as pious and staunch as Joan of Arc, and to someday be known as “Margaret R.,” for Regina. She spends hours on her knees praying, preferably when others are watching. After a brief, loveless childhood, 12-year-old Margaret is married off to Edmund Tudor, a Welsh earl. Before Margaret gives birth to their son, Edmund is kidnapped by a Yorkist rival and dies of plague. Margaret has high ambitions for her newborn, Henry. However, she will not see him grow up. Once again, noblesse obliges her to get married, this time to Henry Stafford, a cowardly homebody. The Yorkists mount a campaign to put their pretender, Edward, on the throne, and soon he is ruling with his fetching and fecund Queen, Elizabeth, a clairvoyant commoner (eponymous narrator of series opener The White Queen, 2009) reputed to be descended from water sprites. The battles rage on, Henry VI is reinstated and redeposed, and Stafford is killed in the crossfire. Meanwhile, young Henry takes refuge in Brittany with his uncle and guardian, Jasper Tudor. Margaret contracts a marriage of convenience with Lord Stanley, and both ingratiate themselves with King Edward’s court, secretly plotting to restore the Lancastrian dynasty. When Edward dies unexpectedly, his brother Richard III takes power and the rest is history, except not the one familiar from Shakespeare. Richard, though unscrupulous and paranoid, is neither a hunchback nor the murderer of the two young princes in the Tower—that crime, still a mystery today, is all but laid at Margaret’s door. Since we know Henry Tudor will invade and unseat Richard from horse and throne, the outcome is not in doubt: The suspense inheres in wondering whether Margaret’s prodigious hubris will be her downfall.
Gregory once again demonstrates her flair for dramatizing history.Pub Date: Aug. 3, 2010
ISBN: 978-1-4165-6372-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: N/A
Review Posted Online: May 24, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2010
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.
Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.
In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014
BOOK TO SCREEN
SEEN & HEARD
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
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