It’s the kind of book that allows you to savor it, because it’s not plot driven. I read it in the mornings, for 30 or 40 minutes at a time, and not every day. The driving force of the novel is Thomas Cromwell, who I knew mainly from C. J. Sansom’s historical mysteries; The Tudors;  and various, scattered pieces I’d read about the Dissolution. Most often, he’s portrayed as a villain. Brilliant, sly, but a villain nonetheless.

Nothing is what one expects in Wolf Hall. It’s all complexities and contradictions. Cardinal Wolsey is a giant of a man; Sir Thomas More, a brilliant hypocrite. Henry VIII, selfish, obsessed with his former queen, Katherine, and the fact that people still love her. And Cromwell himself, a driven workaholic genius, but closer to hearth and home than we’d ever imagine. A loving husband and father, and a person who takes in orphans, children of friends, women in trouble, and earns the love, respect, and devotion of them all.

The book opens with a stunning scene depicting the brutality of Thomas Cromwell’s father kicking him down the street, nearly killing him. The years that came after, before his return to England and a place with Cardinal Wolsey, we learn about in bits and pieces throughout the book. Mantel shows us his fierce loyalty to Wolsey, and his gradual, deliberate transformation into King Henry’s chief adviser.

There are gorgeous descriptive passages, funny asides, moments of emotional clarity, and countless times we see the man behind the persona. The man who, though he hides it well, has never quite gotten over being thought of as a murderer, the son of a smithy, a mercenary, a person of low birth. He is, in fact, all of the above.

The juxtaposition of Cromwell with More was a stroke of genius. A dinner with the More family, Sir Thomas presiding, is revealing. More is exposed as cruel to his wife, pitiless to his daughter-in-law, and horribly condescending to everyone else. It’s a painful scene for the reader to witness. In the end, we can’t shed a tear for More’s demise. But Cromwell, despite his lifelong animosity for the man, still feels sorrow for him. “He can hardly bear it, to think of More sitting in the dark.”

I’ll close with a particularly beautiful passage, near the end of the book: “Clouds drift and mass in towers and battlements, blowing in from Essex, stacking up over the city, driven by the wind across the broad soaked fields, across the sodden pastureland and swollen rivers, across the dripping forests of the west and out over the sea to Ireland.”

I admit, the title Wolf Hall has me stumped. It’s the country seat of the Seymours. Cromwell has a special friendship with Jane Seymour–not a romance–before she’s caught Henry’s eye. At the end of the book, Cromwell is planning Henry’s Progress for the year, and says they’ll end at Wolf Hall. The last line of the book: “Early September. Five days. Wolf Hall.”

What do you think? Why is the book called Wolf Hall?

A book to read again. And again.

The crux of the story is that Amanda (the main character) and  Elizabeth Bennet basically change places. Amanda falls into the world of P&P. Not just into the world, but into the story itself. The whole thing begins when Elizabeth magically appears in Amanda’s twenty-first century bathroom.

The idea of Lizzy showing up in Amanda’s bathroom seemed ridiculous, and Amanda’s explanation of her presence among the Bennets, dressed in contemporary clothes, strained. And then there was that awful scene when Amanda reveals something of herself to Lydia that is, well, TMI. And there’s really never a believable explanation of the whereabouts of Elizabeth.

But somewhere along the way, I began to like it.

Initially, Amanda believes her mission is to correct everything that is not working out as it does in the novel. So, when Bingley is attracted to her, she steers him to Jane. Just as in the novel, Darcy separates Jane and Bingley.  Subsequently, Jane agrees to marry Mr. Collins, because she believes by doing so she will save Longbourn for the family. Charlotte Lucas goes off to Africa as a missionary. Wickham is a delightful rogue. Mr. Collins has three brothers who are even more repugnant that he himself. Lady Catherine is not nearly so hateful as in the novel. In other words, everything is topsy turvy. As Amanda tries to prod everybody in the right direction, things simply become worse or morph into something unrecognizable to her.

Meanwhile, Darcy is falling in love with Amanda. At first, they hate each other. Darcy is rude to her, leaving her alone on the dance floor in the middle of a set, chastising her for her foul language, and judging–misjudging–her. Amanda remains determined to unite Elizabeth and Darcy, even as it’s dawning on her that Darcy loves her and she very much wants to love him back. After all, she’s been longing for the manners, the civility, and the “love matches” of Jane Austen’s world.

Jemima Rooper as Amanda grows on you. All except the hair; I never got used to the modern haircut and bangs. Elliot Cowan, suffice it to say, is all you would want in an actor playing Darcy! The production is whimsical, charming, funny. And sweet…maybe most importantly, sweet.

So was it thumbs up or down for you?