I am now going to divulge to you a fact that every man, woman (and their dog), every non-human life form, their non-human life form equivalent (and their non-human life form dog type thing) ought to know; I love historical fiction. Another bombshell comes in the form of me proclaiming my affections for supernatural fiction. But the thing that shall surprise the random selection of human and non-human life forms (and their dogs) that has gathered here today, is that VIII combines both genres, among other things. VIII, however, proves itself to be more than one reclusive fangirls literary dream. It proves itself to be a dreamy, twisted, yet engrossing twist of events. Indeed, one could say that it was men-in-sparkly-tights fabulous. Yes, you did read that correctly – this specimen does actually include men in tights!Hopefully you’ll have more faith in this novel than to believe that all of its goodness lies within its men in tight, presumably luxurious tights. No, while I did get some kind of perverse pleasure from envisioning those characters in tights doing silly dances and other typically Tudor things, it is my duty to inform you that this book is beautifully written. The scenic writing conveyed the glitzy setting perfectly, but what shined most was the narrative; it’s energetic, crackly style remains both gripping and delusional, but also very frank about Henry emotional state (and by emotional state, we all know that I mean his impending descent into madness. That was done very well, and no, before you ask me if I can relate to that in any ways, kindly swallow a fork.). Let us just say that the narrative channelled Hal’s emotions and the action and other stuff that makes a book interesting and exciting. The setting, which will try and make my swallow a fork, if it isn’t brought back for another appearance, was vibrant and magnificent, underneath the decadent decorations, it’s just as rotten and nasty as the characters it hides. However, it didn’t really seem all that notable to me, as it wasn’t used for anything other than a ground for the characters to stand and fight on. Sometimes, I would completely forgot where they were, as Hal neglected to mention anything about his surroundings at all.
Hal himself isn’t unlikeable because he fails to hand out lovingly described passages about the presumably lovely places he lives in. No, that’s not why I resent him; I resent him because he was a pretentious, vindictive, and deluded-but-not-in-a-positive-loony-way. (And before you attempt to repeat that comeback about me being able to relate, kindly redigest that fork.) Since this book spanned the average lifespan of the average overweight male comedian, which seemed to be the lowest life form I could compare Hal to, it’s quite obvious that Hal wasn’t always as Henry VIII-y as he was towards the end of the book. No, I suppose Hal himself wasn’t all that bad; but his quest, that part was rather troubling. He screwed so many lives up in order to fulfil his dream of empires and sons that I found it nearly impossible to find him even halfway sympathetic. Because, if one doesn’t learn anything else from this novel, you do come out of it knowing how driven and bitchy you are required to be if you’re royal. All of the abuse Hal received from Arthur, from his father, all of the neglect shaped him into the delightful person he turned out to be. Despite having not a kind bone in his body, nor any part of him, Hal still felt very real. The author had the motions of his character all worked out; instead of limping along through the novel like the mechanical Turk on a desperate search for oil which it was never going to get, unresponsive, unchanging. Nope, Hal acted like a real person, developing and acting on his search for the proverbial bathroom which I intend to never let him find. Even if I didn’t like the way he developed, it was still done rather skilfully, unlike my efforts to hide the bathroom, which consist of a lot of tinsel and a trip wire. Before you ask, this plan is fool proof.
Of course, you won’t be surprised to find that there are other characters; unless you were under the impression that this book was simply Henry VIII sitting in a room, naming his fingers about his ten, successful sons and the palms of his hands after the empire he intends to build out of the countries he has enslaved. However entertaining that would be, I still feel the need to gleefully destroy any hopes and dreams that you have about the above synopsis. Another thing you won’t find particularly surprising that is that while this book has characters, none of them are all that sympathetic. Except Catherine, who for all her sweetness and determination, had some rather rotten luck towards the end of her life and died alone, possibly without a cat. This was a shame, as she was possibly the most developed of Henry’s mostly hateable harem. His friends were the same way; most of them felt rather disposable. Those that stayed felt like worn furniture, while the others felt like air. (One has to believe that the latter variety of characters were supposedly carried off winter sicknesses, or by giant, floating eagles or Hal’s desire to have a son out of anything and everything. Yes, my dear, ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING. I do hope your imagining the possibilities of that.) Anyhow, since most of you had to suffer through many years of uninterested people detailing Henry VIII complicated and silly love life, it won’t come as any surprise to you that Hal fell in love with anyone that might bring him a son or an empire. Sadly, France wasn’t all that willing to bear his child. Anyhow, love interests feel fairly disposable; they have to be, in order to fit Hal’s ideals about having a son and another son and some more sons … But what really pissed me off most about the romance was the fact that Hal knew very well what he was doing, and didn’t even lift a finger, didn’t even consider that maybe people would like him better if he stopped screwing up people’s lives.
Naturally, there is more to this book than interesting characters and beautiful writing. Of course there is, don’t look so sceptical. It was fascinating, for one, how the author managed to find a reason for every ridiculous thing that the real Henry did, historically. What was more impressive, that when you take into consideration Hal’s rather messed up manner of thinking, that about half of these reason are almost plausible. Also, elaborating on this ‘history’ thing I mentioned earlier, I ask you to please stop groaning – I had to sit through six years of listening about the Tudors and their noble struggle, too, you know. But what redeems this ancient scrap of an idea from the pile of steaming refuge where it’s been hiding since the last person attempted to write a novel portraying Henry VIII as a tortured soul, it’s how it’s executed; you see it through his eyes. Well, technically, you read it through the words an author has spent months formulating, but THAT IS NOT IMPORTANT. However much I disliked Hal, it was almost endearing seeing how his frantic, endless search for empires and sons caused him to lose sight of everything. It crushed everything and anything, yet it kept him going, causing him to make all of those crazy, stupid decisions. There’s probably a moral deep down in there, elusively chatting with its good friend symbolism, but I’m busy being weighed down under the unbelievably crushing depression that sets in if one thinks too hard about these kind of things. I also feel inclined to mention the plot; it was expectably predictable, since, you know, we all know how it happened. Luckily it’s not the main element in the book; it just supports the characters, like the setting. The setting and the plot, due to being subjected to mild levels of neglect over their lives, grew to become very good friends.
You might be pondering about the ghost story element I’ve been making obscure references to all this time, if you’re the sort who senses these things in all of my cryptic remarks above. The ghost story element, and the prophecy element while interesting, felt a little understated compared to how much the blurb mentions it. Throughout the book, there was no proof that these boys Hal were seeing were dead, or this prophecy was anything but coincidence. Until the very end, that is; wherein it really comes into its own. It’s like watching a child grow, into a successful adult. It’s so beautiful, I say as I wipe a single, glimmering tea away from my eye. (Note: that scene was idealised, like an artist’s rendition of hell. In reality I would be blubbing, loud and messy, and none of the characters would care.) Details became murky, massive twists occurred, and things were revealed, the reader gasps, providing a well-deserved chance for a Just As Planned grin. However, since most of these events occurred literally three pages before the end, the ending itself was rather abrupt. We never learn the identity of the boys, nor the consequences of the prophecy. Because this book doesn’t finish as it just ends. Seriously, IT JUST STOPS. Several large, mind-blowing revelations, and then END. Why, book, why? I DEMAND AN ANSWER.
On that note, it seems that the clock demands a conclusion. Overall, VIII is, if nothing else, unique from the other books staining its genre. But it is something else, because it is genuinely interesting, enjoyable and exciting. Old characters were able to brush some of the old dust of their heads and step into the shiny, new, lights of character development. Well, the spotlight with a post-it note proclaiming that they belong to character development, despite the fact that they belong to the fancy dress shop, but whatever. Even though the humour was a bit lacking, the action made up for it. VIII isn’t perfect, but it’s almost there. So, yes, before you ask, because I know you’re going to ask, because you always do, you really ought to read this book. The cover is also gorgeous, so if one doesn’t like the book, well, it’s your problem if I come to hunt you down for it, you could use the book as a shield, or a dart board, or you could frame … the possibilities are endless, but I’m not condoning all of them, for your information. I suggest you just read the book. Buy the book. Enjoy the book. For VIII is a readable, buy-able, and very much enjoyable experience.
Also there are men in tights. I think.
★★★★
And now, I managed to get the author to answer some questions for me. No, I wasn't hiding in the bushes outside her house! How dare you suggest I would do something like that? Anyhow. Here you go!
-- First of all, what were your inspirations for this book?
I’ve been obsessed with Tudor history since primary school – which makes it more
than 30 years now! I love history generally as a subject (though I didn’t always love the form it took at school), but I find it hard to pinpoint exactly why the Tudors have such a hold over me. A large part of it must be that the stories are so dramatic and so gut-wrenching. The word ‘story’ can be made to seem small and insignificant – e.g. when people say something is ‘just a story’. But I think stories are immensely important to us as human beings. We shape stories out of our own lives and it’s in the form of stories that we understand other people’s lives, too. Our psyches tell us stories about the outside world all the time – that’s how we cope; that’s how we make sense of the jumble of information our senses feed through to our brains. So, in saying that Tudor history provides wonderful stories I am saying something that, to me, could hardly be more significant.
-- Is there any particular reason why you choose Henry VIII as the protagonist, instead of any other significant royal person, or non-royal person?
Somehow it didn’t feel like a choice – Henry came and grabbed me by the scruff of the neck! After so many years of studying the period, both formally (I studied 16th century history for my degree) and just for fun, I had something of an epiphany: I suddenly realised that Henry’s story – which in one sense is very well known – has also always been incomplete. No book, play or film I’ve seen has ever given an account of what it was like to be him that rings true, psychologically, for me. Nothing I’ve ever seen has joined up all the dots of his life – again, psychologically. His mother, for example, was the sister of the Princes in the Tower (who were murdered) – his father spent many years on the run, pursued by assassins. Those experiences must have had a profound effect on this couple, on their personalities and, in turn, on their son Henry’s childhood. In writing VIII, it was astonishing and very exciting to feel that I had something genuinely new to say about such a well-known figure as Henry VIII.
-- Who was your favourite character to write about?
Henry, without a doubt. I don’t think you can write a novel in the first person without feeling that. If your favourite character is someone other than your protagonist, perhaps you should be writing from their point of view instead!
-- Do you sympathise with Henry, or any of his wives for that matter?
Great question! I sympathise with the young Henry, and I empathise with Henry from the beginning right through to the end. I guess what I’m trying to say in making that distinction is that I can always see things from Henry’s point of view, and I can always appreciate why he did what he did, but I can’t say I sympathise with some of the utterly horrific decisions he took in the last twenty years of his life. Indeed, if I took my novelist’s hat off, I would say some very rude things about Henry indeed. But when I was writing the book, I inhabited Henry’s viewpoint so completely that any sense of what things looked like from the outside temporarily fell away.
And I sympathise with every one of Henry’s wives, all six of them!
-- What was the most interesting thing you did in order to research the book?
Since I am so obsessed with the period I found all the research – in its many and varied aspects – fascinating. That is one of the treats of writing a historical novel set in a period you love. One high point was getting my hands on a copy of The Inventory of King Henry VIII (a mighty volume, edited by David Starkey, transcribed by Philip Ward & indexed by Alasdair Hawkyard). It is a minutely detailed inventory of all Henry VIII’s possessions – down to the last chair and hat-pin – made immediately after his death. Using it I could furnish Henry’s rooms, put objects under his fingers, put covers on his beds and clothes on his back. It was endlessly fascinating – I could lose myself for days in that book!
From a different point of view, it was also fascinating to research the English martial arts of the period, since they were something I knew very little about. I read many books, including an excellent one by Terry Brown (English Martial Arts, published by Anglo-Saxon Books), who is an expert in martial arts as we think of them today, and has brought all that skill and experience to his study of traditional English fighting systems. In Henry’s day, these systems were as complex and as well-established as Eastern martial arts are today, and they required just as much dedication and training. Since the acquisition of fighting skills was so central to Henry’s life I had to study them in detail. I also took up a martial art (Taekwondo) myself, in order to find out what it felt like to face an opponent!
-- Why did you decide to include a ghost story element?
Another excellent question. But I’m afraid it’s one about which I don’t want to say too much. I will be intrigued to find out what readers think of this element when they finish VIII. Who or what is the ghost? Do tell me your ideas – and there’s no right or wrong answer to this, as in my view readers’ opinions are every bit as valid as my own!
You can contact me through my website: www.hmcastor.com
Or find me on Twitter: @HMCastor
Thank you so much for having me to visit!
~
Thanks to everyone who organised this for me, I'm so grateful!
0 comments:
Post a Comment