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352 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published June 27, 2006
A Review of Plain Jane: A Novel of Jane Seymour
With the almost successive appearance of The Tudors series and The Other Boleyn Girl film, as well as the countless literature abound regarding the famous Henry the 8th and his intriguing lovelife, I couldn't help but wonder, as with the other phenomenon in pop culture, what makes these stories so appealing and interesting to so many people. [Read: Vampire Romance Literature] While I cannot speak for everyone else, I would have to say that for me part of the appeal lies in the fact that in these stories we deal with a man who actually lived, who had actually gone and changed the world's history and religion because of his love—or his lust. And while the lack of privy into his own thoughts and feelings may be a source of frustration for the avid historians and followers of court history, for those of us who profess no more than interest and fascination at a time and culture unknown to us, such gaps in history grant us some leeway, a space with which to craft our own understanding and fancies as to how the minds and hearts of people such as these could have interacted—what happened in between the lines of history, those things that could not be placed in words or numbers.
In the case of King Henry VIII's history, and faced with the complication of a man marrying six women and making love to countless others, I told myself there are three possible ways of looking at it:
In bookstores, when I look at the selection of books on this bevy of mysteries, on the speculations of people on who this imposing yet elusive king really loved, I find myself congratulating them on being brave enough to hazard their opinion and fantasy on these stories in history. As for myself, I cannot even hazard a guess, and find myself swaying from time to time based on the stories I hear or read.
But I've taken too long to talk about the book. Plain Jane is the third in a series of books by Laurien Gardner on the lives of the Tudor Wives. Reviews for the previous two books (A Lady Raised High: A Novel of Anne Boleyn and The Spanish Bride: A Novel of Catherine of Aragon) show this latest book to be the favorite, followed closely by that of the famous Anne Boleyn.
This novel takes great pains to speak of the life of the little-known Jane Seymour, especially before and during her arrival at court, first for Catherine of Aragon and later on for the shrewish Anne Boleyn. Learning at an early age of her parents' acknowledgement of her plainness and hearing of their despair regarding her future because of this situation affects Jane's disposition throughout her life. She constantly muses about this and wraps herself in pity, especially in moments when evidence seems to present itself to the contrary. We hear of a first love—that is perhaps not so much love after all—as she grows in her family's estate and eventually leaves it to become lady-in-waiting for the two practically reigning queens. The descriptions of court life and the intricacies and complications of royal intrigue, where the slightest glance or spoken word could mean ill or good fortune, was very convincingly shown, and I found myself more than once enjoying not just the story, but the deep understanding of human interaction framed by the reigning social structure and circumstances, which I felt spoke more of the period than any historical fact or material detail that was shown. While serving as Anne's lady-in-waiting after the Dowager Catherine's removal from court, Jane becomes witness to the spirited fits of rage of a girl who relied and believed too much in her beauty and the power it afforded her, as she copes with the demands of an heir for the throne and the knowledge that at any instant her husband may be in the arms of another woman. The character of Anne is dealt with not in a straightforward way, which I appreciated. As lady-in-waiting and queen-prospect, and someone who never had the advantages of beauty that rival had, Jane is at times quick to believe that all fault and accusations against Anne are true. It takes the intervention of other characters, and Jane's putting on Anne's shoes herself, to allow her to grant sympathy to the unfortunately beautiful girl. (On other occassions, she says rather than feels or shows this sympathy, maybe because it is too much at that point to ask her to feel kindred spirit with a woman she believes so different from her in 'looks and temperament'.) The latter part of the story show courtship of Henry and Jane in a solid, if slightly bland light. The story ends with the birth of Henry's only male heir, Edward and, soon after, the death of Her Majesty, Jane Regina.
While I am not an expert on the history of the Tudors and Henry's court, what few bits of information I found on my dabbling on the web seemed to fit perfectly with the story portrayed. The author herself admitted to basing much of the information in the book on an actual account by a member of the Seymour family, although taking liberty with a percieved romance with Thomas Wyatt of Anne Boleyn's court. As a piece of historical fiction, and especially historical romance, it won't irk those who are sticklers for details, and it has enough romance in it to satisfy those who are probably not as interested in the historical background as they are with with the appeal of court romance in itself.
I cannot just yet compare the language and tone of this book with others in its series to gauge whether the author took conscious effort to alter the voice of the narration, but I felt that the voice of Jane is very convincingly used throughout the book, believeable to the extent that even though the reader may not often agree with her thoughts and opinions, he or she would feel persuaded to let the story run its course and let the protagonist with whatever course of action she chooses. The problem with this is that sometimes, especially with pivotal moments or shows of emotion, the feeling or thought is said, rather than shown. I have read other reviews which begged for proof of Jane's cleverness and intelligence, which was stated but never demonstrated, and while I myself am usually not demanding about these details, I had to wonder as well how to confirm this, especially in certain occassions where Jane's virtue—no matter how pure it was—seemed to unnecessarily bar her from understanding things which are very plain to the reader, and almost all other characters in the book. Not everyone succeeds in pulling of ignorance/obliviousness in the protagonist and not risking some readers losing sympathy for her.
Others yet complain that Jane moaned in self-pity and consciousness of her plainness too much, and this perhaps diminished the appeal of her character as the heroine in the book. I cannot dispute this fact too much, although I would have to say that to an extent, such musings are not entirely impossible, nor that they may occupy someone's mind that much—more so in an environment like that of 16th century England, where women's worth lay on nothing more than her beauty, title and wealth. I was, however, not entirely convinced that the knowledge of her lack of beauty was a compelling enough reason for her to breed the ambition she supposedly had. Even more troublesome was how this 'ambition' was shown and handled in the story. At times she seems to be resolute in what she wants, but when confronted with the possibility of marrying the King of England, she shows a mixed reaction: a reluctance to take it alongside a hunger. This may exist, that is true, and naturally the mind is not black and white and people must be allowed their complications. However, in a book that mostly allows us to view Jane and her musings, ther innermost thoughts and insecurities, mismatches between what she things and what she says make it hard to bridge the gap beyond the complexity of the mind. But nevermind that, I guess my greatest confusion lies in the love story in itself.
I admit, it took a while to develop, and I am usually not that patient with a professed love story. I gave in this time, however, first, because I knew it had to follow the course of history and also because I had come to enjoy hearing about Jane's story enough not to mind the pace at which the romance was unfolded. Portraying a man of Henry's complication and mystery is sure to be a challenge, and Gardner manages to pull of an endearing and perhaps even lovable man, who is, as we anticipated, mostly lonely and worn down with the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. But the way with which he disposes of his previous wives—either the naivety or deliberate deceit with which he washes his hands of them by laying the blame on the women is just....I don't even know exactly how to express how I feel about it. I found myself believing his love for Jane less and less as their courtship progressed, more so because most of the proof we find are words, interpretations not backed by believable actions, or actions that are seemingly contrived and placed deliberately without the momentum or harmony with the rest of the romance. I wanted to believe he loved her, I really did, but when I realized I was forcing myself to believe it at certain points, I lost the drive to. Come to that, I really wonder if she loved him, too. Much of her earlier attachment and attraction had been to the man of greatness and power she saw in him and she had to say at several points that she 'saw him as a man,' perhaps more to convince the reader—and even herself—of her own feelings.
I'll stop at this because I may be overanalyzing and I do not want to say that I did not enjoy the book despite my difficulties with certain aspects of it. It is an entirely good read and a great way to learn about the life and loves of Henry VIII. Maybe I'll try reading the other books in the series, too. 3.5 stars out of 5. :)
That being said, reading the book and doing scant research on Jane Seymour is leading me to believe that Henry may have really loved her. Not just because he married her and made her queen despite her 'plain'-ness but because of the way that their love ended—not through her own undoing or the shrewish plans of another, but through cruel trick of nature or of God. When she died, Henry refused to get married, mourning for three years and even engaging in the embroidery he knew he loved.
I'm just guessing and using poetic license at this point, at others have before me; but whether in book or in real life, I find myself wishing, for no one's sake but for the seeming rightness of it, that if Henry did truly love only one of his wives, I'd want it to be Jane Seymour.