The fourteenth (chronologically speaking) in Philippa Gregory’s historical fiction novels of Plantagenet Tudor England, this one features the era of Queen Elizabeth and Mary Queen of Scots. But its focus is on the last three Tudor Princesses and likely heirs, Lady Jane Grey, (Queen for nine days), Katharine Grey, and little Mary Grey. The book is written in three parts from each of the sister’s points of view.
I love Philippa Gregory and I love this series. I loved watching the White Queen and the White Princess on Starz, and eventually over the last five or more years, I actually re-read all of the novels from top to bottom chronologically starting with the very first, The Lady of the Rivers. More were being published even as I was reading them, and at just the right time in my journey through Plantagenet and Tudor England. That was such a meaningful trip. I read the Other Queen (book fifteen) about a month ago, just slightly out of order, but it still worked.
So I know a few things about Tudor England through the eyes of Philippa and other writers. For one, its not easy to be in these royal courts. Amidst political tensions, religious differences, no one holds onto the throne for long, and the question of succession causes paranoia, murder, imprisonment, false accusation, war, constant loss of life. These women and men try to be merry, perform masques and go hunting, while trouble looms all around. Financial trouble, war, political and religious winds, heresy, magic, plagues and sickness, and the characters struggle for patriotism, for love, for honor, and for the crown. This book is no different and no less wonderful. Truly the end of an era. Even Philippa herself says she’s done with Tudor England, and is moving onto some other project. For her and for us, it really is the last Tudor and the end of an era. So glad to have finished out the legacy after years of enjoyment.
So this book fulfills for me numerous challenges, and I wanted to briefly discuss how it fits, as reading this book during strong women month, raised a lot of questions that I wanted to try to think about in the review and in the context of this book. Namely; What does it mean to be a strong woman, and how do we look at these characters and their contexts? But first, a listing of where I am at, and why this book fit squarely in my sights. As I have said, it is the final book in my Philippa Gregory journey through history. It is also listopia book #4, for my PBT group. This year I am reading about Remarkable Women in Historical Fiction. It was on my shortlist, and my list of books I had wanted to read in 2017. This is actually the second time its been out from the library, and I hadn’t gotten to it. I actually wanted to read this one before taking on the Summer Queen, the Winter Queen, (Eleanor of Aquitaine) and the House of Shadows. You all can expect those later in the year.
So – what does it mean to be a strong woman? That may be a similar or different question than what it means to be a strong woman in Tudor England, amidst the danger and complexities. Sometimes it means a fierce belief in God. Or one’s regency and succession. Sometimes it means riding out with your troops. Sometimes it means being willing to imprison and murder those who have done nothing but be born on the wrong side, or on the right side and willing to inherit. Often it means not being able to marry for love, and being cruelly separated from one’s children. Particularly the boys. It sometimes means beheading and it sometimes means dying alone, with no title, no money, and no love. So the question I ask, then and now, is this: When loss, or trauma or political oppression or marginalization, physical disability, or intellectual, obviously we are shaped by these factors. we find ourselves thrust into a resilience that we didn’t ask for. We are strong after trauma and loss and misfortune because we have to be. We are just living our lives in the face of the context into which we have been thrown. Race class, religion, ethnicity, our genes, and our events and experiences. As a psychologist, I work with all kinds of people who have suffered greatly because of the events or relationships on their lives, some including more severe mental illness. They are all strong to me. And strong both because of and despite what they have had to endure. And let me be clear, this is the human condition. I am talking about the men too, and men in general. Our resilience is in our ability to make meaning, to reflect and have those reflections and meanings guide us, and guide our sense of self, identity, and life trajectory. So do I consider these women (and men) in the book strong, despite that they have little power, have to endure the whims of a lonely rageful and paranoid queen? Yes I do. Because strength is our birthright of endurance, and is about how we narrate our lives. And live them as fully as possible. To me, there is a strength in choosing to marry and live for love. (Or for God). Even if it means you lose everything. Your lover, your children, your life, your freedom. Because our lives are narrated by what matters most, and being true to ourselves. That to me is strength of character, and strength of one’s purpose and trajectory during our lives. To point our arrows forth. Rather than hiding in the shadows refusing to live our truths. So, were these women successful, powerful? Did they achieve their aims? Often not. But did they live their lives with truth, and sometimes faith? Yes they did.
If you haven’t figured it out, I am making a modern day allusion outside of the royal court. Today we have to live with parents losing children to school shootings, to illness, to mental illness and accident. We have a plethora of illnesses, and intellectual and physical disabilities to choose from. Misfortune is everywhere. Loss of jobs and finances, marriages and fidelity, spats amongst friends and family, addiction, and political oppression. But our reaction has been interesting and powerful. We have incredible loss of life and limb at the marathon a couple of years ago, and we rename ourselves Boston Strong. This phenomena happened after 911 too where we rename ourselves with strength, compassion, and heroism. Our political times calls for a show of strength and passionate belief, no matter which side of the divide one falls. I find this also relates to the personal stories of friends and patients. For instance, folks want to be strong. No one wants or chooses to be a disempowered weeper. Everyone wishes to be vital. And live meaningful soulful lives. We all want to be our resilient dynamic highest selves. But sometimes grieving and process is the way to get there. Sometimes one has to be vulnerable, to be able to tell the story. We are all the writers of our lives and stories, and we need to be able to narrate them with all of the context, grieving and reflection, and shades, and subtext and vulnerability, and therein lies our strength. Our ability to tell and share our stories and emerge stronger. This is an anthem to me, and not just for women. For humankind. For those oppressed and marginalized, and for all of us who didn’t choose our fates, and are trying to best live our truths. It’s a call to do as Jane and Katherine and Mary did. To figure out what’s most important and makes your life most vital and to live by that with every breath and decision. Great book, and the theme of the month allows me to make an important point and impact with it.