I’m really not sure what to think of this book. Alison Weir attempts to tackle the subject of Isabella of France, Edward II’s French wife, and one of the more unusual queens in English history. Historically portrayed as an evil, grasping, adulterous woman who becomes a corrupt tyrant, Weir turns her subject into a feminist hero who saves England from Edward II. Weir admits early on she approached this not liking Isabella and wanted to portray her in a more sympathetic light, but by the end, she drank her own kook-aid. The problem with all of this is the simple fact that Isabella is all of the above and more. Like most historic figures (particularly powerful queens) she had her positive and negative aspects, and instead of confronting this fact, and examining the figure in a historical context, Weir’s narrative is all over the place without ever really going anywhere. She obviously has a bias towards Saint Isabella, but she doesn’t really ever offer firm proof for that conclusion, and as often as not, she actually undermines her own not-very-clearly-stated argument. The work starts out with Isabella the victim, married to evil Edward II, and utterly helpless as he bungles his rule of the country. Unfortunately Weir manages to skim over much of that in favor of the trendy historian game called ‘Guess what? I found some household account books.’ As a result, we hear much more about every time Isabella traveled a few miles and spent the night, or every time she spent 2p on stockings, than about the actual historical events at this point during English history, which is quite silly. This is the slowest part of the story. Then the book shifts to Isabella as the avenging angel who takes back the country, in theory for her son, but mostly (in my reading) because she wanted to try ruling. What follows is a long section in which every good aspect of ruling is Isabella’s wonderful reign, but every bad aspect (ie virtually everything) is somehow the fault of every man around Isabella. Around this time, it becomes painfully clear that Weir is somehow unironically painting a picture of a ruler much worse than Edward II while trying to make it sound like everything isn’t quite so bad as it sounds. Then at the age of 35, it’s all over, and the nearly three decades remaining of Isabella’s life are mostly skipped over as Weir readily admits she only found two account books. I recall learning in a freshman history class that, when you can’t find a source that neatly does your research for you (ie most of the time) then you look to other sources to piece together a picture of what happened. I guess Weir was absent that day.
I was also a little surprised at some of the anti-gay language in this piece. Generally speaking, I’m very tolerant of this sort of thing in history and honestly can’t recall more than a few times in thousands of books that something actually made me pause, but I was particularly taken aback by the comment that when Edward consummated his marriage with Isabella, he ’finally played the man’. Really? Comments like this are sprinkled throughout this book.
It isn’t all terrible, however. In spite of Weir’s aimless wanderings through the material and clear axe to grind, the work is more interesting than one would imagine. It isn’t great by any means, but it isn’t the worst history writing I’ve encountered. Even more impressively, there is considerable confusion and controversy as to when and how Edward II died—either murdered/naturally/due to ill treatment in England when he was supposed to have died, or as a monk in Europe decades later. Weir handles the whole thing very clearly and adeptly. She argues for the monk theory (which I personally find questionable) but manages to make discussions of this complicated issue the most well written and clearly communicated aspect of this whole adventure.