Some melodramatic scenes and unduly American locutions can’t spoil this accomplished rehabilitation of much-maligned Anne as...
Historically plausible account of Anne Boleyn’s adolescence in France as a courtier of King François.
Maxwell’s prequel to her first novel (The Secret Diary of Anne Boleyn, 1997) explores Anne’s upbringing far from England, geographically and culturally, first in the Netherlands and later in France, where Anne, age nine, and her older sister, Mary, are sent to serve Mary Tudor, reluctant bride of Louis XII. When Louis’s overly energetic attempts to impregnate Mary end in his death, François, husband of Louis’s daughter Claude, ascends the throne. Assigned to Queen Claude’s household, Anne marvels at Claude’s pious determination to birth royal children despite a congenital deformity that makes childbearing particularly excruciating. Anne flees Claude’s sewing circle for music, dancing and the intellectual ferment surrounding François’s sister Marguerite (who, along with their mother, seems to be really ruling France). Marguerite introduces her to Protestant ideas, which will later drive Anne’s ascent, and ultimate downfall, as consort to Henry VIII. Shocking but also titillating to young Anne is François’s behavior—he discusses his mistresses’s sexual proclivities loudly during Sunday Mass. The libertine king’s outrageous antics cut closer to home when Anne’s callously ambitious father orders beautiful Mary Boleyn to become François’s latest concubine. Despite a brutal deflowering, Mary comes to enjoy her role until François starts handing her off to his friends. Less-comely Anne is pressured to spy on the French court, a paternal order she handily circumvents. Anne learns from Mary’s experience to guard her virginity as her prime political asset. She finds an unexpected mentor in da Vinci, who spends his declining years as a guest of François. Lavishly imagined detail—regarding entertainment, dress and habits of the time—adds depth to this work.
Some melodramatic scenes and unduly American locutions can’t spoil this accomplished rehabilitation of much-maligned Anne as an empowered woman.Pub Date: Nov. 6, 2007
ISBN: 978-0-451-22209-1
Page Count: 384
Publisher: NAL/Berkley
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2007
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.
Hannah’s new novel is an homage to the extraordinary courage and endurance of Frenchwomen during World War II.
In 1995, an elderly unnamed widow is moving into an Oregon nursing home on the urging of her controlling son, Julien, a surgeon. This trajectory is interrupted when she receives an invitation to return to France to attend a ceremony honoring passeurs: people who aided the escape of others during the war. Cut to spring, 1940: Viann has said goodbye to husband Antoine, who's off to hold the Maginot line against invading Germans. She returns to tending her small farm, Le Jardin, in the Loire Valley, teaching at the local school and coping with daughter Sophie’s adolescent rebellion. Soon, that world is upended: The Germans march into Paris and refugees flee south, overrunning Viann’s land. Her long-estranged younger sister, Isabelle, who has been kicked out of multiple convent schools, is sent to Le Jardin by Julien, their father in Paris, a drunken, decidedly unpaternal Great War veteran. As the depredations increase in the occupied zone—food rationing, systematic looting, and the billeting of a German officer, Capt. Beck, at Le Jardin—Isabelle’s outspokenness is a liability. She joins the Resistance, volunteering for dangerous duty: shepherding downed Allied airmen across the Pyrenees to Spain. Code-named the Nightingale, Isabelle will rescue many before she's captured. Meanwhile, Viann’s journey from passive to active resistance is less dramatic but no less wrenching. Hannah vividly demonstrates how the Nazis, through starvation, intimidation and barbarity both casual and calculated, demoralized the French, engineering a community collapse that enabled the deportations and deaths of more than 70,000 Jews. Hannah’s proven storytelling skills are ideally suited to depicting such cataclysmic events, but her tendency to sentimentalize undermines the gravitas of this tale.
Still, a respectful and absorbing page-turner.Pub Date: Feb. 3, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-312-57722-3
Page Count: 448
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Nov. 19, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2014
BOOK TO SCREEN
SEEN & HEARD
BOOK TO SCREEN
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.
A retelling of ancient Greek lore gives exhilarating voice to a witch.
“Monsters are a boon for gods. Imagine all the prayers.” So says Circe, a sly, petulant, and finally commanding voice that narrates the entirety of Miller’s dazzling second novel. The writer returns to Homer, the wellspring that led her to an Orange Prize for The Song of Achilles (2012). This time, she dips into The Odyssey for the legend of Circe, a nymph who turns Odysseus’ crew of men into pigs. The novel, with its distinctive feminist tang, starts with the sentence: “When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.” Readers will relish following the puzzle of this unpromising daughter of the sun god Helios and his wife, Perse, who had negligible use for their child. It takes banishment to the island Aeaea for Circe to sense her calling as a sorceress: “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, I thought, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.” This lonely, scorned figure learns herbs and potions, surrounds herself with lions, and, in a heart-stopping chapter, outwits the monster Scylla to propel Daedalus and his boat to safety. She makes lovers of Hermes and then two mortal men. She midwifes the birth of the Minotaur on Crete and performs her own C-section. And as she grows in power, she muses that “not even Odysseus could talk his way past [her] witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.” Circe’s fascination with mortals becomes the book’s marrow and delivers its thrilling ending. All the while, the supernatural sits intriguingly alongside “the tonic of ordinary things.” A few passages coil toward melodrama, and one inelegant line after a rape seems jarringly modern, but the spell holds fast. Expect Miller’s readership to mushroom like one of Circe’s spells.
Miller makes Homer pertinent to women facing 21st-century monsters.Pub Date: April 10, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-316-55634-7
Page Count: 400
Publisher: Little, Brown
Review Posted Online: Jan. 22, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2018
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