Tudors by Peter Ackroyd.

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Peter Ackroyd may very well be God. I haven’t met him but I’m feeling pretty good about this. Any other explanation as to how he manages to produce so many huge books filled with so much knowledge in such a short space of time (commonly termed “prolific,” to be concise), all so well written, comes up short. I bow to him. Even genuflect. He is my hero and he is superhuman, with an exhaustive bibliography unparalleled by any writer save, perhaps, Joyce Carol Oates. His body of work encompasses:

Three volumes of poetry

Sixteen novels

Thirty-four works of nonfiction (to date)

Six television programs

As I said, unparalleled. I have read precious few of his writings. There is much work to be done, all of it pleasant.

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This second volume in his History of England series is exhaustive and exhausting, though not necessarily in a negative way. The level of detail is staggering, best ingested in small portions. This is not a book to race through. Rather, the more slowly you work your way through the better, to aid in the memorization of the cast of characters buzzing in and around the Tudor family like bees in a hive. It’s nothing if not phenomenal. Perhaps majestic. Mind blowingly incomprehensible. Very, very impressive.

Ackroyd begins with Henry VII, whose victory over Richard III at Bosworth Field assured him the throne, ending the Wars of the Roses. The simplified story is that Henry’s son Arthur inherited the throne from him, taking Katherine of Aragon as his wife. Arthur was not long for this world. Enter Henry VIII, who married his brother’s widow, immediately beginning the series of affairs that lead to much beheading of suspected unfaithful wives. Oh, but the beheadings and elicit sexual exploits are all but microscopic compared with the Reformation, England’s break from the Catholic Church effected by Henry’s demand his marriage to Katherine of Aragon be annulled, so he could marry that tramp Anne Boleyn. And the political intrigues, and the wars, and Henry’s ballooning weight and ulcerous legs. And the treachery. And the wars. And the blood and the blood and the blood. At the same time it’s riveting, it’s disgusting.

Upon Henry VIII’s death, the powers that be went mad jockeying for power. The winning straw was drawn by Lady Jane Grey, or her uncle, rather. Jane was too well educated to believe this could ever be a good thing but she had no choice in the matter. Into the Tower she went while, it was hoped, things would settle down enough to bring her out to rule. It was not to be. Poor Jane was executed – after nine days as queen – upon the successful rout by Elizabeth’s half-sister, Mary. Mary, a devout Catholic who abhorred her father’s break with the Church in Rome, went about the business of undoing what her father had started, destruction of all Catholic trappings and killing of those practicing the religion. “Bloody Mary” attempted a bit of religious cleansing of her own, sentencing hundreds of Protestants to death for the crime of obeying the monarch, her father, who threatened to kill them for being Catholics.

It wasn’t really such a great time to be English.

After two years, Mary sickened and died. A bit of relief there, when she was succeeded by Henry’s son Edward VI, the product of his marriage to that slut Jane Seymour. Edward was nine years old upon his accession, so his uncle Edward Seymour acted as regent until the day Edward would come of age. Without his lifting a finger, Protestantism at last came to be the de facto national religion of Britain during Edward’s regency. It’s a really long story, filled with yet more killing and manipulation. But, as far as almost-monarchs go, Edward VI didn’t seem half bad. He’s largely in the background, left to his own devices save for the occasional raising of his head to ask a question or declare something or other, but what we do know of him may have made him a decent monarch. Damn the 16th century and its short life spans!

However, he left behind his diary, which is something to recommend him:

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fancyline7I’ve ordered a used copy via Amazon and you may find more about the book here.

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Edward sickened and died in 1553. Following Edward was Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, monger of wars and cousin of Mary, Queen of Scots. Then things really got interesting. Wars and intrigue, political back-stabbing and attempts to marry Elizabeth to various leaders for reasons of political gain characterized Elizabeth’s rule. Overshadowing it, how to solve a problem like Queen Mary. The English defeated the Armada and Elizabeth kind of, sort of worked out the whole religion thing.

Of course, Ackroyd fills in a few more details. Never before have I felt I understood the complex relationships amongst the Tudors and their hangers on until reading this volume. The family is a universal favorite, Henry VIII and Elizabeth I icons of British history, yet the whole story of who did what to whom – and who didn’t but got beheaded, anyway – is far stranger than any fiction. Peter Ackroyd accomplishes a breathtaking juggling act, keeping it all straight with minimal confusion for the reader busily working out all the Henrys and Edwards and Marys, and what country was at war with which in an age when power and alliances shifted seemingly daily.

He’s so easily read,  unlike any dry history we all suffered through in high school. I don’t know how he nails it but he does. He’s developed a method of telling a complex story in a straightforward way, so there’s no having to go back and read pages or even chapters to understand what’s going on. I already said it: he’s God. Or at least the God of British history. This is why I’ll be going back to read the volume preceding Tudors, The Foundation, and look forward to Volume III. The accomplishment thus far is astounding.

If you’ve had an interest in the Tudors, don’t bother with any other, single book. Read this, then have a go at Hilary Mantel’s series if you’re like me and hadn’t made it far before getting too muddled to carry on. I feel much less intimidated by British history of this era now, much better educated, though there’s more to be known. That’s the encouraging part, what makes my heart beat a bit faster. Riveting as this read was, fantastical and entrancing, it leaves out much branching off from it.

There is always more to be learned. Thank God – a/k/a Peter Ackroyd – for that.

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fancyline7Series: History of England (Book 2)

  • Hardcover: 528 pages
  • Publisher: Thomas Dunne Books (October 8, 2013)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1250003628
  • ISBN-13: 978-125000362

The Sunday Salon – August 27 Edition: The reading week. Bits of This and That. And Hitler.

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route 66: the mother road herself

A bit of photography for you this sunny (here, at least), temperate day. I stood in the middle of the road to get this shot, in the heart of an almost completely abandoned Route 66 virtual ghost town. All the former businesses were derelict, windows broken, insides filled with debris. I'll be posting several other photos from this location throughout the week.

Have to cut this short this week. It's family birthday party day. (I know, yay.) My boys had their birthdays on July 30 and 31 (two years apart, not twins, which may actually be more remarkable) but we were on vacation then. Today's the first chance we've had to observe their joint birthdays. I still have loads to do; the house looks like Irene picked it up, tossed it around and threw it down again. We're nowhere near the coast, tucked away safely in metro Chicago, but you wouldn't know it by looking in our windows.

Hey, you aren't looking in our windows, are you? Because that's so not cool.

Reading news:

Still reading the Booker Longlist books, working on a couple reviews I'll have up on the blog and reading NetGalley eBooks on my iPhone.

I was reading Chris Bohjalian's The Night Strangers in bed last night. It has supernatural themes, which make me jumpy as a circus performer. When my husband let out a sudden SNORT in his sleep I swear I jumped a foot off the bed. My heart rate shot through the roof. It was not a fun time.

The Night Strangers

Chris Bohjalian

Crown, October 4, 2011

 

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"In a dusty corner of a basement in a rambling Victorian house in northern New Hampshire, a door has long been sealed shut with 39 six-inch-long carriage bolts. 

The home's new owners are Chip and Emily Linton and their twin ten-year-old daughters. Together they hope to rebuild their lives there after Chip, an airline pilot, has to ditch his 70-seat regional jet in Lake Champlain due to double engine failure. The body count? Thirty-nine.   
What follow is a riveting ghost story with all the hallmarks readers have come to expect from bestselling, award-winning novelist Chris Bohjalian: a palpable sense of place, meticulous research, an unerring sense of the demons that drive us, and characters we care about deeply. The difference this time? Some of those characters are dead."
– Amazon.com

Over the course of last week I reviewed:

A Small Hotel by Robert Olen Butler

The Double Life of Alfred Buber by David Schmahmann

The Curfew by Jesse Ball

We stopped by Catoosa, OK for a look at The Blue Whale.

And had a look at one image from an abandoned gas station along Route 66.

Next week I'll talk about a great book for writers/bloggers, another Booker Longlist read and, if I have the time, a couple long overdue eBook reviews. And, of course, more photos from sites along Route 66 from our summer vacation.

Have a good week. Stay safe if you're out East

 

Whokillhitler

 

The Doctor: Rory, take Hitler and put him in that cupboard over there. Now. Do it.

Rory: Right. Putting Hitler in the cupboard. Cupboard. Hitler. Hitler. Cupboard.

 

– Doctor Who, Episode 8, "Let's Kill Hitler"

The Reading Promise by Alice Ozma

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Alice Ozma grew up in a book-lover's paradise, a bookish child with an elementary school librarian father enthusiastic about reading to her every, single evening, the two of them sharing lines they'd read, inside jokes about characters, etc. Before they began an official goal of reading together 100 nights in a row, they already came very near meeting that goal on a regular basis, skipping only a handful of nights. But making it an official gave them something firm to strive for, and once they'd achieved that it was time to set an even higher goal: reading for 1,000 nights.

One thousand nights! At first her father balked at that, thinking "Where will we be, what will we be doing in 1,000 days?" Unsurprisingly, in the end Alice had her way. Their next goal was set. With a little trepidation they were on a mission. And succeed they did, and then some.

The premise of the book is charming, and the relationship between Alice and her father a very close, endearing one. With a mother who'd run off from the family, and an older sister who seems more a shadow than a real person (which may just have been Alice's choice, to cut the family down to she and her father only), having her father to lean on was a comfort. As a bonus, she was the center of his world, the one person in his life he could say he influenced for the better, the father many of us dream of.

The problem with the book is after the first couple of chapters – in which Ozma describes her reading plan and its rules – the rest are unsatisfying, seemingly unconnected vignettes. As an adult, I found the reading had a few charming moments, as well as the poignancy of a child's perspective on a mother who abandoned her family, but the bulk of these stories were not at all compelling. It became a slog reading little bits about her family life, especially since the stories lacked much of anything in the way of talking about books – the purported intention of the book.

If Ozma intended to write a book aimed at children, she may find a certain appropriate audience. Perhaps they wouldn't mind as much a lack of continuity from chapter to chapter, a falling off from the original premise. But as a read for adults, there's simply not enough there to hold the interest. Could be she wanted to become a precocious, Ramona-type character who went from mischievous act to mischievous act, but if so somehow she didn't quite manage that. It would have required actual segues between the chapters, a plot one could follow, instead of random, meandering stories of dubious interest.

I was very disappointed in The Reading Promise, and felt the description of the book did not live up to the actuality.  Had the vignettes and characters been more fully fleshed out, the writing of a higher calibre, perhaps I could have gotten beyond the promise unfulfilled. I would still have felt a bit cheated, but as it is I don't understand for whom, exactly, this book was written. It seems to be pitched at adults, but is it, really? In my opinion, no. It's written in too unsophisticated a style to hold the attention. Again, as a book for children maybe it would work, but even that's on thin ice.

I don't expect The Reading Promise will stand the test of time, and don't expect it to make the list of "Best Books About Books and Reading," which is most unfortunate, considering the intent Ozma had in writing it. The set-up was perfect: the precocious child who loves reading, paired with a father who loves sharing his love of reading with her. In the end, though, it just falls flat. What a shame.

[Thank you to NetGalley for my eBook ARC of this book.]

Aliceozma 

Alice Ozma's blog