Personally, I found Queens Consort: England’s Medieval Queens to be a work of see-sawing quality that landed more on the negative side of the things. Lisa Hilton has given herself a thankless task in trying to condense the lives of twenty queens who ruled England from the time of the Norman Conquest to the beginnings of Tudor rule – all in all, about four hundred years’ worth of history – into the space of five hundred pages, with each chapter needing to at least to pretend to be a biography of the queen at its focus. Additionally, Hilton is hamstrung by various problems such as a paucity of evidence, a notoriety that needs to be thoroughly examined, or queens who appeared to do little at all.
Some of the individual biographies were a slog to get through, quite dry in tone and weighed down by a mass of names and compressed history. This is more apparent in the early chapters, which might reflect a lack of evidence or my lack of knowledge about that time period (the result being that my brain was overloaded by the sheer amount of new information). But other biographies I found quite engaging. The section on Marguerite of France marked a turning point where I started not to struggle through Queens Consort, though this might be because I’d reached the point where the history was familiar to me.
Unfortunately, when I reached the point where the history became familiar, I began to notice mistakes, misunderstandings and/or misrepresentations. There is no contemporary evidence that Isabella of France and Roger Mortimer were lovers, much less that their affair was as “flagrant” as Hilton boldly claims. Richard II was not “clean-shaven when it was conventional for grown men to wear a beard” – there are numerous depictions of him with a beard, including the well-known Westminster Portrait. Henry IV and Mary de Bohun had six children, not seven and certainly not nine. Hilton’s discussion of Catherine de Valois’s husband, Henry V, did little to impress – beginning with a Freudian’s wet dream of psychoanalysis based on dialogue written by William Shakespeare, following up by describing him as “fair-haired” when the best-known portrait of him depicts him with dark hair, and concluding by labelling him a prig. No, I’m not being snarky, she literally uses the word “prig”.
The crowning glory of Hilton’s mistakes is when she states that Henry VI was Henry Tudor’s father. Err, no, Henry Tudor’s father was Edmund Tudor and Henry VI was his uncle. This is clearly a mistake and other sections and the genealogies do get Tudor’s paternity right, but the fact it exists at all is worthy of a yikes.
Of course, Hilton is dealing with masses of history and I imagine that it would be easy to make mistakes or get confused during the drafting process. However, I’m not reading a draft or an ARC. I’m reading a book that has been written by an author who presents themselves as an authority, which has gone through the drafting, editing and (presumably) fact-checking processes and is now published as a mass market paperback. These mistakes, which could have been easily checked, are inexcusable. Furthermore, they make me doubt the veracity of every conclusion and every detail in the book.
Hilton’s various discussions of the sexuality and the sex life of various kings was poor (no queen has her sexuality examined beyond some rumours of adultery, in case you’re wondering). While her discussion of Richard I’s theorised homosexuality is ultimately thoughtful and evidence-based, prefacing the discussion with a joke about how there were two queens in his marriage is tasteless and desperately unfunny. She appears to go out of her way to continually label Richard III with a serious predilection for incest. In another instance of her misrepresenting history, her discussion of Edward II’s rumoured sexual relationships with his favourites seems to come to the conclusion that it’s far more likely he was having an affair with his own niece (Despenser’s wife, Eleanor de Clare). This is unlikely, as it’s only attested in one chronicle (a non-English one at that) and Edward’s fondness for his niece is well-attested and pre-dates Despenser’s rise to power and Edward’s apparent affections – but not Despenser’s marriage to Eleanor. Hilton also seemed to obsess over the idea of Richard II’s chastity, arguing that that he never consummated his marriage with Anne of Bohemia and seeming to verge towards concluding that he remained a child as far as his sexual maturity went. There is some small evidence that he and Anne were hoping to have children (even a reference to what could have been a miscarriage; more creditable historians than Hilton have suggested that one or both of them were infertile) and none at all of the chaste marriage Hilton is obsessed with.
The tone of the book is uneven. In some ways, I felt that Hilton would have liked Queens Consort to be a rollicking tale of England’s medieval queens, written with a snarky, “witty” commentary by Hilton (for example, calling Henry V a “prig” and Richard I a “queen”). Yet overall, the text was more formal and scholarly (dry at times, as well), so these snarky interjections simply stood out as out of place. I often did not appreciate Hilton’s sense of humour, either, and wished, more than once, that she’d butt out of her own book and stop trying to crack jokes.
The structure of the book is not as neat as the contents page depicts, with a chapter for each queen. The chapter on Marguerite of France, for instance, also covers the early stages of Isabella of France’s life and marriage, while the queens of the Wars of the Roses often blend into each other’s chapters – quite a lot of attention is given to Marguerite of Anjou in Elizabeth Woodville’s chapter, and Elizabeth Woodville features heavily in the chapters about Anne Neville and Elizabeth of York. I’m not necessarily criticising Hilton here – history is rarely as neat as book chapter titles would like us to believe – but it’s worth knowing if you’re looking to read a chapter at random.
There were times that I enjoyed Queens Consort – some biographies were quite engaging reading, some of Hilton’s jokes amused me, and there was some information that I’d not read before that excited me (however, I feel I need to find other, more reliable sources). But on the whole, this is a disappointing read. The concept, as I’ve said, is great. But it is let down by Hilton’s sloppy approach to the history and the individuals she writes and her inability to commit to either an informative, authoritative approach or a snarky, rollicking-good-time approach. 1.5 stars.