Harry Turtledove has made alternative history/historical fiction his own. His books range widely in the history of mankind and when he indulges in a particular period of interest, we all benefit. In this book, he imagines a Britain almost a decade after the Spanish Armada when Spain has conquered those Isles. Then he drops Will Shakespeare into the tale and we are off and running.
Historical, humorous, bawdy, and thrilling, Turtledove, deftly mixes his batter and takes time to let it rise. Everyone has a secret or two and some, if known, might only terminate a relationship, while others (perhaps pried out by the Inquisitors) could result in a public and slow death.
Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe, the legendary Richard Burbage (the actor of his era and owner of London’s Globe theater), Queen Elizabeth (still alive and in the Tower), King Philip (dying) and a blend of familiar and created characters makes this a delightful invention.
When I am in a different world or period, I appreciate the opportunity to taste, smell and listen to it. One thing that the reader can count on, with a Turtledove novel of the past, is the depth of research of that period. Ruled Britannia is a joy with the detailed customs and culture that are laid open to us. The thing that I may have enjoyed the most is the period language and how rich and different it is from 21st century English. For example:
“Good den, Master Seymour,” he said.
“Why, Master Shakespeare! God give you good den as well,” Harry Seymour replied. He was a tall, lean man who would have been good-looking had he not had a large, hairy wen on the end of his nose. “Do you but pass the time of day, or can I find summat for you?”
“I am always pleased to pass the time of day with you,” Shakespeare answered, which was true: he’d never known Seymour to print or sell pirated plays. He went on, “But if you’ve the Annals of Tacitus done into English, I’d be pleased to buy it of you.”
“As my head lives, Master Shakespeare, I do indeed. And I’ll take oath I fetched hither some few of that title this morning.” Seymour came around to the front of the stall. “Now where did I put ‘em?...Ah! Here we are.” He handed Shakespeare a copy. “Will you want it for a play?”
“I might. But my Latin doth state with disuse, wherefore I’m fain to take the short road to reminding me what he treats of.“ Shakespeare admired the ornate first page, illustrated with a woodcut of swaggering, toga-clad Romans. “A handsome volume, I’ll not deny.”…He held up the translation. “What’s the scot?”
“Six shillings,” Harry Seymour answered.
“My good fellow, you are a thief professed,” Shakespeare exclaimed. “But your theft is too open. Your filching is like an unskilled singer; you keep not time.”
“Say what you will, Will, but I’ll have my price or you’ll not have your book…You know not what I had to pay Master Daniels, he which rendered into our tongue the noble Roman’s words,” Seymour protested.
Sensing weakness, Shakespeare pressed him. “That you’re a subtle knave, a villain with a smiling cheek, makes you no less a knave and villain.” He made as if to thrust the Annals back at Seymour.”
Turtledove is masterful in giving us enough of the difference without making the reader reach for an “olde English” dictionary every sentence.
The author also demonstrates his skill in his measured increase in tension as Will Shakespeare gets himself deeper and deeper into a plot (plots?) to overthrow the Spaniards. Some will be displeased with the slow pace of this novel. Yet, I know a number of my GR friends will be delighted with the language and details. At a time where a penny was of value and three could buy a satisfying full meal at a pub or “ordianary.” Turtledove gives us as complete picture as I have found of London life. Though the plot is imagined, he always sails close to the shore of reality. I am not a devotee of massive books but I enjoyed this journey very much for its ability to put me in touch with this fascinating era. Though for some this final excerpt will have an “icky” component, I found that its informative value trumps any of that.
“(He) began to blubber. ‘God bless you, sir. Oh, God bless you,’ he said. I tread on you and then you give me good for evil, as our Lord says a man ought to do’….The skinny young man blew his nose on the fingers on the hand that wasn’t holding the money, wiped them on his shabby doublet and hurried out of the lodging house.”
4.5*
PS: Here are some of the more than 100 epithets thrown at various characters in Ruled Britannia:
You’re a bloody kern; knavish fool; caitiff rogue; block-head cobbler; thou dishclout; wretched puling fool; Spartan dog; idle-headed boor; starveling popinjay; you abject anatomy; lucky clotpoll; thou’rt not only a fool, but ass and dog as well; preaching pig butcher; limb of Satan; thou mooncalf scroyle; the Devil damn thee black; impersevant thing; recreant blackguard; a stuffed man; a very dull fool; dumb-discoursive devil; damnable box of envy; ass-head; fond monster; mad mooncalf dotard; fool’s zany
(Iterative comic relief is provided by Constable Walter Strawberry who is likely modeled on the character Dogberry from Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing.)
‘ “I have spake English since I was a puling babe; it is the tongue of my captivity,” Strawberry said. “ You, then, needs must be inerrant.”
“Would that I were!” Lope exclaimed.”’