I'm not sure how so many books manage to turn Eleanor of Aquitaine into either a simpering romantic or a woman made reckless by her sexual desires. This book manages to avoid both of those, happily, although the first half is a pretty dry read.
Some funny moments. Take this: For the occasion Eleanor wore a gown of pure silk with tight-fitting sleeves, designed to show off her delicate wrists—as important as a slim ankle is today (26). That had me scrambling to find the publication date, and indeed, this was written in the early 80s. Or this: With all the skill of a marriage counselor, the Pope tried to heal the breach between the couple (50). This was in the context of the Pope denying Eleanor a divorce and leaving her 'in despair' (50), which makes me wonder just what Brooks thinks of marriage counselors.
A certain amount of authorial liberty is probably to be expected in a biography written for a MG/YA audience. There's a limited amount of information available on Eleanor of Aquitaine, and extensive explanation of sources, etc., doesn't make for a super accessible read. That said, as an adult reader, my hackles go up when I read things like Eleanor couldn't help thinking how political marriages...united such unsuitable husbands and wives (39). She couldn't help thinking that? Did she leave a diary? If she did, good grief, I want to know about it. If not...well, then while it's a valid point about political marriages for the author to bring up, we aren't privy to what Eleanor 'couldn't help thinking'. (To be fair: This would have bothered me a great deal less as a younger reader—I think it might have been more these small liberties in the context of the pretty dry tone that bothered me.) And...I've spent an excessive amount of thought on this sentence: Of those left behind, many died of sickness or starvation; others became Moslems in exchange for bread and disappeared from history (43). What does it mean for somebody to disappear from history? Why do the ones who die on the Crusades not disappear from history?
Anyway, anyway. The book picked up considerably in the second half, covering Eleanor's later years in more detail than a lot of books allow. This woman lived—she was determined to use her considerable advantages to the utmost, and to not let being female limit her in a world where women were often powerless. There's a moment, too, when the author mentions Eleanor going to Castile to choose a granddaughter to marry a French prince...and that she hadn't seen her daughter in thirty years (157). Part of this, of course, was due to her decade-plus under house arrest, but part of it was just a mark of the times (even though Eleanor was incredibly mobile and well-travelled for the day and age). Those long stretches still happen to day, of course, especially when somebody immigrates...but that sort of detail still brought the period into sharper relief for me. It's not, all told, a bad introduction to Eleanor of Aquitaine.