What really struck me was I how much I agreed with her. My book club had just read Shanghai Girls, by Lisa See. Most of us felt that while the book was well written and had compelling moments, it was also unrelenting in its misery. (We’re all fans of Snowflower and the Secret Fan and Peony in Love, BTW.) I can’t speak for everyone, but personally I felt it could have used some lightness—humor, romance, wit…anything to relieve the grimness of the story.

YA lit has its share of misery right now, too. Suzanne Collins, in her post-apocalyptic novels, The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, while making every moment gripping and often terrifying, somehow managed to instill a bit of hope. Maybe it’s in the quiet way Peeta loves Katniss, or in the way each wishes to save the other. I wish other writers of dystopian fiction would work a little harder at taking the edge off the hopelessness with a bit of joy. Find something to celebrate in all the bleakness. Something with a human connection.

I know we’re living in a scary, crazy world, and modern fiction reflects the concerns and anxieties of writers, and readers, too, I suppose. But I do wish all the horror, hopelessness, and mayhem could be interspersed with some offsetting moments of happiness. Isn’t that more reflective of life?

To quote Daisy Goodwin again, “I’m more of a light and shade person and there does need to be some joy, not just misery.”

What do you think? Are you longing for a little joy and humor in your reading?

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.

Would you keep on writing if you had no hope of publishing your work? If you would, can you explain what motivates you? If you wouldn’t, why not?

We’ve talked about this in our critique group, and we disagree. I’d love to hear your view.

A writer of historical fiction, her specialty is the Middle Ages. She has nineteen books to her credit. See what I mean about not discovering her before now? Especially since her first book was published in 1989 (The Wild Hunt), and is still in print.

After I read  The Champion (1998), I took a look at her web site. It’s beautifully designed, has a Medieval look to it, and is packed with information about her books and research. You can also find her reference library (an extensive list of her resources), her biography, a glossary, music she enjoys listening to while writing, and much more.

The Champion begins with the two brothers, Hervi and Alexander, around whom most of the story revolves. Hervi is the older, and a seasoned tourney knight. He believes his younger brother Alexander is leading the religious life at Cranwell Abbey, where he’d been sent as a young boy. Abused by one of the priests, however, Alexander escapes and sets out to find his brother. Exhausted and near starvation when he arrives at Hervi’s camp, Alexander begs to be taken in. When he regains his health, Alexander begins training to become a tourney knight.

Monday de Cerizay and her mother and father are friends of Hervi and also live in the camp. As she and Alexander grow older, Monday begins to have feelings for Alexander, but by this time he’s made a name for himself on the field and is sought after by many beautiful maidens. One night, when both he and Monday have had too much wine, she gives in to her feelings for him and they make love. Although Alexander offers her marriage, she realizes he doesn’t love her, and having lost both her mother and father, she sets off on her own.

There are some excellent villains in this book. Eudo le Boucher, a fearsome tourney knight who wants Alexander dead; King John, who takes Monday as his mistress, then casts her aside for his twelve-year-old bride; Monday’s own grandfather, who wants her only to broker a marriage with a wealthy family; and perhaps the worst of all: Brother Alkmund, the sub-prior of Cranwell Abbey. At one point, le Boucher and Monday’s grandfather join together to destroy Alexander, with the king’s tacit approval. Chadwick does an especially good job with King John (brother of Richard the Lionhearted). He’s selfish and heartless, uses people cruelly, and is by nature jealous. When the child he and Monday have together dies, he expresses no sorrow and has no words of comfort for her.

The historical detail in this book is meticulous, so visual and rich, I felt as if I were watching a movie. Chadwick’s description of the clothing–rendered in especially great detail because Monday is a sempstress–is outstanding. Everything to do with the tourney field, and actual battles as well, is real and immediate, including descriptions of the swords and swordplay, shields, chain mail, and horsemanship.

I can’t wait to read another of Chadwick’s books!

It’s so difficult to send a manuscript out into the world. I always fall in love with the characters and think the story is perfect. Well, maybe not perfect. Bound to be a few flaws here and there, but nothing that won’t be a quick fix! I steel myself, waiting to hear what everyone thinks. I’m grateful that the critique is taking place at a gorgeous home in the mountains above Boulder. We’re sitting in a “great” room, the last golden light of fall streaming in from the French doors.

And so it begins. Everyone starts with words of praise, because our group is respectful, caring, nurturing. There’s not a single person present who doesn’t want to help me improve my manuscript and ultimately reach my goal of becoming a published writer. As with any group of writers, the thought processes differ wildly. (There’s a reason we call ourselves the Wild Folk!) Some see the big picture. Others focus on detail. There are the “outside the box” thinkers who suggest new turns the plot might take. Several people point out characters who need further development, aspects of the story that don’t make sense, and in the case of this book, an ending that simply doesn’t work. I’m busy taking notes and asking questions, trying to understand and decide if the various suggestions fit with my vision of the book.

Of course, I can’t really do that until I’ve given myself time to process everything. Since the critique, which was on October 4, the manuscripts have been stacked on my dining room table. I’ve read through everyone’s comments and charted the “issues” mentioned most frequently. I’ve spoken privately with some members of the group who I thought could help clarify certain points. Slowly, I’m working my way through each manuscript and taking note of comments written in the margins. As many of us in our critique group are frequently heard to say, “Writing is hard work!”

Now I’m trying to pluck up the courage to begin the re-write. Frankly, I’m scared to death.

Next Spring I’ll be teaching a class on young adult fiction. The class will examine themes which run through both classic and contemporary YA novels, and also study the way in which the genre has evolved over time.

I’m looking for your input! What one book defined you during your teenage years? Had the greatest emotional impact? A few lines describing exactly why that particular book meant so much to you would be helpful. If there’s more than one, even better!

I’d like to receive input from all age groups, but no need to reveal your age unless you want to. Your favorite book, by the way, can be from any time period. Many of the classics have been loved by succeeding generations–Little Women is one example.

And for those of you who read/write YA novels, which books among today’s writers resonate with you?

Can’t wait to hear from you!

Then someone in my Jane Austen group suggested I read a Georgette Heyer novel. Supposedly, the next best thing to reading Jane. Not my words, nor the words of the person who recommended Heyer, but I actually did read that somewhere recently. So I read Bath Tangle, and I loved it, which forced me to read several more of her books. Georgette Heyer, for the uninitiated, is the queen of Regency romance. She practically invented the genre. Her books are full of witty repartee, undercurrents of sexual tension, and meticulous historical detail. Heyer wrote from the 1920’s up until her death in 1974.

Someone else suggested Mary Balogh. I started with A Summer To Remember, read all the Simply’s, plus a few others, and I loved them all. Typically, they have a certain sweetness about them. Then I discovered Julia Quinn. Besides five of the Bridgerton family novels, I read The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever and  Mr. Cavendish, I Presume. Quinn’s trademark seems to be humor, sometimes of the laugh-out-loud variety. Then I got going on Jo Beverly and her Rogues, and after that, Stephanie Laurens and the Bastion Club. Are you getting the picture?

Last winter, I was knitting a sweater that was way beyond my abilities, and therefore taking forever. To entertain myself, I began listening to audios of some of these books. Doing so saved me from insanity. Although in retrospect, perhaps concentrating too much on the stories caused me to make all those mistakes which eventually had to be ripped out. Unlike Georgette Heyer’s books, the modern regencies are very sexy!

For pure escapism, the Regencies can’t be beat. Oh, yes, there’s a formula to them, but that’s okay. It’s what romance readers expect, indeed, demand. At least I think it is. Because, as I mentioned before, I’m not really a romance reader.

Last Sunday I pretended to be Cassandra Austen, sister of the famous writer. I was on a panel of “siblings” at the Denver/Boulder regional meeting of the Jane Austen Society of North America. We panelists fielded questions from our members regarding the sibs-four of the brothers and one sister.

The most compelling question for me as Cassandra was, of course, “Why did you destroy the letters?” What I wanted to say was, “It’s complicated!” But as Cassie, I couldn’t. So, here’s what I actually said:

“Jane and I had a habit of ‘censoring’ each other’s letters when we shared them with the family-leaving out sections when we read them out loud. We both desired this holding back of details meant for ourselves alone.

“I lived 28 years after Jane’s death, thus allowing me a great deal of time to decide what to do with her letters. I destroyed many of them due to their personal and private content. This is what Jane would have wanted. Some were written during periods of great stress, such as the aftermath of the family’s decision to move to Bath; others contained remarks which may have been hurtful to others.

“Jane never desired fame. She wanted recognition, to be taken seriously as a writer, but never fame. Publishing her most private and personal correspondence would have been disgusting to her.”

Other than her correspondence with Cassandra, Jane Austen’s surviving letters are mainly to her nieces and nephews, and a few to friends. Not one to her mother or father. None to Henry, her favorite brother, and the one who helped publish her novels not only in her lifetime, but also after her death. She didn’t live to see Persuasion and Northanger Abbey in print; Cassandra and Henry made certain that the world would have all her work. And we are eternally grateful!

One poignant image I haven’t been able to get out of my mind: Henry riding alongside the carriage carrying Jane Austen and Cassandra to Winchester, Jane’s final journey.  Apparently it rained throughout the 16 mile trip. How appropriate.

Most of the book is set in England, in 1794. Sovay, betrayed by her first love, decides to re-invent herself as a highwayman. As it turns out, she robs a coach carrying the lover who spurned her. He then takes his revenge by reporting her father as a traitor.

Sovay goes to London to try to warn her father, who has been away from Compton, their country home, for some time. The housekeeper informs her that her father is no longer there. Meanwhile, Gabriel, son of the Compton steward, checks on Sovay’s brother Hugh at Oxford. He discovers that Hugh was “sent down” because he wrote a seditions pamphlet. He has fled to France.

While in London, Sovay meets the spymaster Robert Dysart. As it turns out, he’s the one orchestrating the campaign against Sovay’s father, and countless others. A high official in the British government, he obsesses about the English rebelling, as the French did. He has taken matters into his own hands and is the epitome of evil.

Sovay is surrounded by men: Gabriel Stanhope; Virgil Barrett, an American who has taken on the job of warning people about Dysart; Captain Greenwood, a highwayman Sovay meets in her escapades; her brother Hugh, who finally makes an appearance in London; Mr. Oldfield, family friend and solicitor who is also working against Dysart. Eventually, in the last third of the book, Sovay, Hugh, and Virgil end up fleeing to France because they’re wanted for treason in England. There, Sovay meets the dashing Captain Leon, a passionate believer in the French cause. The two fall in love.

The French Revolution has devolved into chaos, with Robespierre at the helm, executing citizens by the hundreds. Sovay’s father is in prison, dangerously ill and awaiting execution. Although Virgil and Leon both try to save her, Sovay herself ends up in prison with her father.

I don’t want to reveal the ending, but it seemed a bit too easy. My only other criticism of the book is that all the men–Gabriel, Virgil, Greenwood, and Leon–are in love with Sovay. Beautiful, clever, and daring, Sovay is undoubetedly appealing, but isn’t it a bit unrealistic that every man she meets immediately falls for her?

But these are minor flaws in an otherwise captivating and wonderfully written book. Sovay is a great read, with danger coming at a furious pace. The political intrigue seems real and always threatening. Thoroughly grounded in her research, Rees made this frightening time come alive for me.

Have you read it, or any of Rees’s other books? What did you think?

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?