Benjamin’s Reviews > Wolf Hall > Status Update

Christophe has given me a new phrase to use in every day life. So articulate. Forged in the depths of the volcano of the written word. Encapsulating all that is readable to the trained and untrained eye. And to think:

“Oh by the hairy balls of Jesus.”

Ah, coronavirus: the sweating sickness of 2020.

He, Thomas, or he, Cromwell or, even, he, Thomas Cromwell or, just simply, he is proper sassy now. And I love it. You go girl.

Imagining that this is just one long Tudor-special of Made in Chelsea is really helping. Anne is the golden girl: the fake-tan; the white teeth and the awful accent. Cromwell is the subtly-sexy businessman, keep tabs on everybody, shit-stirring where possible. Henry is the buff, Daddy-had-money, girls-don’t-understand-me type. And Jane is going to be the main gal when nobody watches the show anymore.

Her-dialogue-is-so-good-that-I’m-wondering-if-Hilary-is-he-,-Thomas-Cromwell-,-herself. Do I yet have any idea what’s actually going on? Will I ever? Isn’t it fun to ask questions?

Me reading Mantel is the literary equivalent of those mad Tesco-bulk-buyers flying through the aisles: I have no idea what’s going on but I want more.

‘What is in that great book?’
... ‘Words, words, just words.’

You’re not kidding, Hilary

This is by no means a book you can read fast. And given I’ve still got 600-odd pages in this, 500-odd in the next and 900-odd in the last, I’m not sure I can do anything else for the next month. But hey, this is the furthest I’ve ever got with Wolf Hall...

C’mon Ben. We can do this.