Finally finished the last Wolf Hall/Thomas Cromwell Trilogy book. I'm an impatient person so for the first 80% I was like go on! decapitate him already! But by the last 20% Hilary Mantel had me like oh my god please don't decapitate him. That's too sad. Thoughts on the trilogy:
1. When I went into the Goodreads reviews for Wolf Hall (book 1), I was surprised by a ton of 1 star reviews complaining that Mantel always used "he" for Cromwell instead of his name, which could make it unclear who was speaking. I didn't have this problem when reading and I thought it was funny that so many people were so enraged, like they were stomping their feet and calling it unreadable, etc. etc.. But in book 2 and 3 Mantel favours the construction "he, Cromwell,". This is a big depature in form and I think it's sad that Mantel or her editors caved to the stupids who couldn't use context to determine who was speaking. The new construction is much worse for flow, and it distances the narration from Cromwell when the rest of the prose (even occasional bursts into second person) is based around emphasising the "limited" part of third person limited — you are in his head, it would be unwise to trust him. Also it's really weird following his eyes around a beam of light and a dust mote for a few paragraphs and then needing to specify he's the guy speaking, and remind us of his name.
2. It should be a duology. Hear me out — the word counts of book 1 and book 2 approximately equal the word count of book 3 when added together. The TV series adapted the first two books because it understood that book 2 is the last third of book 1. Finishing book 1 is not a satisfying experience because the thematic resolution waits for book 2, and all around it's just a very weird place to stop. Starting book 2 is more frustrating still, because there is so much clumsy exposition to catch you up on events in book 1. I think the editors probably added it in, because the recaps sit so incongruously with the prose. The title of book 1 works much better when it also covers book 2 — ok hear me out some more. The title of book 1, Wolf Hall, serves a few purposes. The first is a hovering phantom of dramatic irony. It reminds you that Anne Boleyn will be temporary. This is redundant because everyone knows Anne Boleyn is going to be decapitated. The second sense in which it is used refers to a physical location that is central and indispensable... in book 2; it does not appear in book 1. The third, alluded to partway through book 1, is a reference to homo hominis lupus est (man is a wolf to man). This motto is applicable in book 2 and 3, but to be perfectly honest and a bit controversial, no one is that cruel in book 1. If anything, one of its central themes is how benevolence is more effective means of control than cruelty. This gets challenged in book 2, so all in all the title really belongs more to book 2 than book 1. But instead book 1 is called Wolf Hall, and book 2 Bring Up the Bodies.
3. One always gets invested when reading longer texts, because familiarity breeds affection. So I'm a bit suspicious that I only really started liking the series in book 2. Then I felt a bit indifferent for a large part of book 3. It's a problem with historical fiction and prequels — the absence of suspense. I don't think Wolf Hall overcame it. But by the same token, the reason I kept going was because I was familiar with the history and persons (it was so exciting seeing familiar names pop up), which is a bit like enjoying fanfiction. My favourite way to write fic is what I call "biofic", where you take a background character who exists across a disparate franchise, ideally with each installment worked on by different people, or perhaps one only used as a plot device and thus contorted for greater convenience, whose motives and character appear nonsensical. Then you lay out the facts of their fictional biography like where they were and what they did, and try to contrive a personage who might have made those choices and lived that life. The story of their life makes no sense because it was not accounted for, or needed to be strange for plot convenience, or because the writers did not read what came before. It is a delightful challenge to put a person together from such fragments, especially as the resulting person must be dissonant by design (fun to write). I imagine that Mantel approached this project in a similar way — starting with the scaffolding and then putting in detail. But what good scaffolding there is for this biography! I can't help but wonder if she couldn't have filled it out with a bit more drama and a bit less lyrical description of confectionaries and shadows. Her writing is very romantic and verbose which is not to my tastes. I wanted the whole thing to be nastier.
4. Mantel is worried about historical accuracy, you can tell because she ends her books with justifications for any minor diversions she has made from history, acknowledgement of the efforts of a large number of historians, and explanations of the fates of minor characters. I imagine that this provides support while writing. Something I enjoyed was how she brings the reader in on the process of choosing what to believe. The trilogy is full of ambiguity and open to reader interpretation, much as Mantel interpreted the resources available. We don't know if Jane Seymour was a schemer or a puppet, so Mantel leaves room for both.
5. Cromwell is one of those guys who subconsciously represses his true intentions. He pulls veils - memory, sensation, intellectual stimulation, misappropriated moral codes, religion - over his own mind to obscure his own goals from himself, so that he may serve them better. The funny thing is, as the trilogy progresses and you slowly see him revealed, his goals are entirely selfish. He's really really really greedy. He likes nice things, like a lot. He's like yeah I want a nice coat. But not one -- all the nice coats!! Including the one on that guy's back!! But I suppose this would shatter his self-image, or contradict his religious beliefs, so he sublimates his own desires and commits personal acts of kindness to reassure himself of his virtue (although he will not admit to needing reassuring, or anything being wrong, or even necessarily notice it). When he does something unpleasant, he also sublimates it, often rewriting his memory (e.g. I totally didn't torture that guy I tortured, I just scared him). It took me an embarrassingly long time to work this out, which may be part of my problem with book 1. Anyway, as someone determined to dig through my brain and every action with a scalpel until I feel I sufficiently understand my subconscious desires and how they influence my actions to the greatest extent that I can, so I may not be ruled by them, and someone who always chooses to know things even if they are horrible useless dangerous and upsetting because I care for the truth, this is alien to me. But I've seen it in so many people in real life, a kind of wilful ignorance, a kind of avoidance when it comes to acknowledging certain things, and I think this book showed it very well. It helped me understand this phenomenon that interests me, this inherent contradiction of being able to rationalise anything but still believing your own rationalisations, even when you could just as easily argue the other side. A kind of selective memory, but also selective analysis. And NGL my life would be so much better if my analysis/criticism could be so easily sidestepped when convenient??? Teach me your ways Cromwell (joking, as I said, unfortunately I value the "truth", such as it is attainable).
6. Henry VIII is so well-depicted. Easily my favourite character. What happens to a human unbound by human rules? Weird things! His cruelty equals his stupidity, both arising from a tender ego, but it's impossible to hate him at times — he is so open about his unhappiness and life is lonely on a pedestal. But still, his buffoonery, his entitlement! His absolute unwillingness to engage with responsibility for the people he abandons, or even to touch upon the unpleasantries of life! His scenes often play out as pintereqsue comedy of menace. I think he made the series, for me, as a very human monster, vulnerable and violent, subject to ridicule and terror in equal measure.
