4.5 stars
A novel told from the perspective of Katherine of Aragon, stretching from those first heady days when she arrived in England as the bride-to-be of Arthur, first-born son of King Henry VII, to her last painful and ignominious hours she spent as the discarded, yet defiant, wife of King Henry VIII.
I must say, the book started off rather slow for me: once the drama of Katherine's marriage to Arthur had passed and she and Henry were married, most of the time was spent wrapped up in Katherine's wedded bliss, which seemed a bit too . . . blissful for a woman, especially a high-ranking woman, of this period. For instance, the first time Henry is unfaithful, Katherine is shocked and hurt by his behavior. Really? Should she be? After all, it's not like love or even affection between royal spouses was the norm, despite the appearance Henry gave of being as in love with Katherine as she was with him. Aristocratic and royal marriages were made for alliances, for power, not for love; adultery, on the man's part, was the accepted norm. So it seemed strange for Katherine, the daughter of Isabella of Aragon, to exist in a cloud of naivety and meekness. But then things start to pick up once the King's Secret Matter, which soon becomes the King's Great Matter, gets exposed and the hurly-burly with Anne Boleyn begins. Then we see the fire of Katherine of Aragon spark to life as she fights for her husband, her marriage, her title, her daughter, and her entire life and future.
This is not an unbiased book, nor should it be. This is a highly personal tale, told completely from one woman's perspective. Such a singular perspective doesn't allow for an unbiased telling. We see the events of this well-known historical period through a single set of eyes, augmented by the opinions of those in her household who are loyal to her, those who fight for her rights against those of Anne Boleyn. Anne Boleyn will get her say in the next book; in this book, she is only the “night crow” or “that woman” or "the Lady." And that's fine. This is not a history book or even a biography. This is historical fiction. Get interested in the history behind the story, but don't get your history from the story, even though this particular story is being told by an historian.
And a good one. Alison Weir thoroughly immerses us in the world of Katherine, her household, her retinues and routines, her high and low fortunes. We are with her every step of the way as she lives through the disappointment of her marriage to Arthur, as she floats through the glorious first years of her marriage to Henry, as she slowly becomes beaten down, small defeat by large, when Henry finds Anne, leaves Katherine, and splits Christendom in two in his quest to satisfy his desire to have a male heir. By the end of the book, it's quite easy for the reader to loathe both Henry and Anne as Katherine suffers repeated bouts of ill health, living in constant fear from the specter of poisoning hanging over both her and her daughter, Mary's, heads. Each illness of Mary's fills the reader with the same pangs of terror as it does Katherine, despite knowing that Mary survives these years of hell, years which imprint on her character indelibly.
However, because we are getting a story from Katherine's perspective, that also means we're getting a Tudor-washed, Ferdinand-washed tale as well, as is to be expected. So, in order for the Tudors to be winners, Richard III has to be the villain. In order for Ferdinand to be ruler of Spain, Juana has to be mad. It's a bit hard to swallow at first, but I had to keep telling myself, history is written by the victors. Henry VII and Ferdinand were the victors; Richard III and Juana were not. Alison Weir does a good job of explaining the choices she made as a writer in her Author's Note, explaining she changed relatively little in attempting to evoke the sights, smells, and textures of a lost age. She also explains how writing the book from Katherine's perspective granted her a different, more intimate psychological perspective on this amazingly scrupulous, lionhearted, and resolute woman, which in turn allows us to better understand why Katherine wouldn't have knuckled under and given in to Henry's demands, for though the idea of Katherine retiring to a convent and becoming his "sister" might seem reasonable to us now, to Katherine, they were utterly repugnant.
Of course, probably the most famous incident in Katherine's life was her first marriage to Arthur and whether or not it was consummated. For what it's worth, I have always been of the opinion that it hadn't been, that Arthur had been too sickly and all his hearty exclamations of “My throat is parched for I have been this night in the midst of Spain!” were just ego-boosting boasts from a young boy who wished to appear masculine in the eyes of his court. While I have no doubt Katherine would've done everything in her power to protect herself and her daughter, her faith was too strong to allow her to lie about something as crucial as consummation.