Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel: A review

I took Hilary Mantel with me on vacation last week. She proved to be a fascinating companion.

I had read Wolf Hall, her Man Booker Prize-winner, in 2010 and enjoyed it immensely, even though I was sometimes annoyed by Mantel's eccentric punctuation and her often failing to enumerate who "he" was in her telling of the story. Usually, it would be Thomas Cromwell, but not always. It was sometimes confusing.

In Bring Up the Bodies, she seems to have addressed my quibbles or maybe I've just gotten used to her style of writing. Maybe a little bit of both.

This book follows the downfall and execution of Anne Boleyn and the Master Secretary Thomas Cromwell's part in it. Cromwell was Henry VIII's right-hand man. Henry spoke his desire and Cromwell made it reality. When he wanted to get rid of his first wife Katherine so that he could marry his inamorata Anne, Cromwell made it possible. But at the opening of this book in 1535, Anne and Henry have been married for three years and she has failed to give him a son. Their only living child is Elizabeth. All other pregnancies - and it seems that poor Anne has been almost constantly pregnant - have ended in miscarriages or dead children. Moreover, Anne has proved to be strong-willed and to be possessed of a sharp intelligence which makes her unpopular among members of the court. Henry is disenchanted to say the least. It is time for Cromwell to work his magic once more.

Anne makes it almost too easy for him. She is the center of attention of a coterie of young men in the court. She flatters and flirts and loans them money and gives them gifts. Rumor has it that one of the gifts she gives is her own body. Most appallingly, one member of this favored coterie is her own brother, George.

All of this, of course, makes her a focus of the gossip and malice of other members of the court, specifically of those ladies who serve her. Cromwell talks to the ladies-in-waiting, starting with Anne's sister-in-law, George's wife Lady Rochford. He pieces together very nebulous and circumstantial stories which might or might not be evidence of adultery and treason, but, in the end, when he presents his case to the peers who will decide the fate of those accused, there is no hesitation in condemning them all. Of course, these peers knew what their king wanted. To be rid of Anne and to have Jane Seymour. They did their part to make it possible.

Were Anne and the five men executed really guilty or were their deaths simply means to an end? It is highly unlikely that we will ever know the truth of the matter. As Mantel would have it, it seems that at least four of the men executed may have been selected as victims because of their part in the downfall of Cardinal Wolsey who had been a mentor to Cromwell, while another man who may truly have been guilty was protected because he was not an enemy of Wolsey. Is this really the case or merely literary license? Again, we'll never know, but it certainly makes for one bang-up story.

Mantel is a lyrical writer and it is such a pleasure to read and sometimes re-read these pages. Her choice of words for her descriptions are just perfect. Not a syllable could be changed or moved. For example, here she describes the death of Anne:

There is a groan, one single sound from the whole crowd. Then a silence, and into that silence, a sharp sigh or a sound like a whistle through a keyhole: the body exsanguinates, and its flat little presence becomes a puddle of gore.

Anne's head has been separated from her body by a single clean stroke of a sword by the French headsman brought over for the purpose. "The body exsanguinates" - what a crisp and concise descriptive word for such a bloody mess. But that is typical of Mantel's writing throughout. This is a tour de force, a writer on top of her game. And that makes for much pleasure for her fortunate readers.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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