This book is the perfect example of why showing not telling matters and to done more bloody research that what you vaguely remember from school.
While it is true that English Catholics believed that James Vi (and the First of England) would be kinder to them than Elizabeth I, JAMES WAS NOT A CATHOLIC!
Sorry, I literally said “he was not” when I read that bit while waiting for the train. Aloud. I was that annoyed.
Okay, the basic plot is that a writer hears about old bones being found in a Tudor house and becomes obsessed and then after a visit to one psychologist when she thinks she is going crazy because of how she is thinking about the characters in a novel she is writing, decides that she is the reincarnated sister of person who was the bones.
Yeah, I had a problem with that one doctor visit.
But the worst part is that instead of showing us things, the author tells us. The book functions along two story lines – one set in the Tudor period about a Catholic family in Elizabeth’s London and the other about the author who ends up writing about their story because she can remember her past life. So in the Catholic family the eldest daughter falls in love with a Walsingham Spy. Instead of showing us how this happened, we are told -we are told he did nice things (we don’t see it). And this makes the relationship hard to swallow. Maybe the dude didn’t arrest your friend’s husband, but he works with people who did. He was spying on your family and it seems you just fall for him. There should be more debate about the relationship, at least interior debate. Because we never see the pair falling in love and the interior debate is lacking, the relationship does not seem real, So when the eldest daughter is raped and her husband is condemned to death for killing her rapist, you feel nothing because everything is happening to shadows. This rapist is a character named Edward Norris and it is unclear if he is based on the historic Edward Norris, who incidentally did not die that way. (I don’t mind slight shifts in character in historical fiction because of pov. Cromwell’s view off Anne Boleyn for instance, is not going to be ours. But the basic facts should be kept correct). Norris is also the gay who is lusting for the hero and that makes him sexually evil so there is that trope going on as well. In fairness, it is unclear why our hero falls for the heroine outside of the fact that she is pretty, and, therefore, most be innocent.
The modern storyline isn’t much better. The “writer of her generation” doesn’t seem to write like one. And everything is info dumps. When the writer discovers that her boyfriend is banging her agent, she tells us she is angry, but we are never shown the anger. Her speeches (and they are speeches) to both the agent and the boyfriend are so rote. She then takes up with the head of her publishing house who basically said her latest submission was trash (even though he worked as a photographer he is also a publishing expert apparently). And, look, but would a head of publishing house actually call in an agent and her author – the money earning author for the company (a multiple best seller and in translation) and call said author’s latest submission trash so bluntly (when are told repeatedly that book was not in fact trash to). The agent just sets quietly there too. Would it really go down that way?
Also, I am sorry but I am with the cheating boyfriend on one thing - if the person I was about to move in with dumped their current residence and brought a new one without at least telling me, I would be upset to. If we are going to share a new residence, I should have some input. (If a male character had done this, we would be calling him a controlling jerk. The writer character in this book is a controlling jerk because of this).
It’s just a bad book. I’m sorry but it is. It might of been interesting if the character were actually shown to be acting anger or in love, but nope. It’s like reading a news report that goes on for too long and is on Fox News.