Dismantling Mantel!

 


I have somehow never been invited to join a book club, although I have spoken at many across the country. Perhaps having an author in their midst would make members nervous? I don't know why; I am a lover of books every bit as much as they are. I am thus not used to deconstructing books with others on a regular basis, and only leave reviews on my Goodreads account on occasion.

It was with trepidation that I agreed to be part of this podcast discussion about the legendary, double Booker prize-winning Hilary Mantel's third book of her Thomas Cromwell trilogy, The Mirror and The Light. But I could not resist Susanne Dunlap's offer, because she and Patricia Bracewell are respected colleagues and good friends. You could say I was "shamed" into reading at least this one of the trilogy as my enthusiasm to participate overcame my worry about tackling the tome (it's 759 pages, in case you hadn't heard!). 

I needn't have worried about the discussion; it was more than fun, it was exhilarating! Here is the link, with a caveat--it's 40 minutes long, so settle in with a cup of tea or glass of your favorite beverage and join in! Would love to know what you, too, think of this trilogy. 

 https://www.itsjusthistorical.com/episodes/three-novelists-discuss-hilary-mantels-the-mirror-and-the-light


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ode to a grandson

Image
  Leo turned into a teenager last week. Ah, you say, so into a kid who will now only answer in monosyllables when he's not giving you sass; get miffed if you tell him to turn off his phone/tablet/gamer; and generally behave as though you, his parent or grandparent, knows nothing at all about anything. But Leo is not that kind of kid; and for us as grandparents taking him on his first trip abroad to a non-English speaking country, we found this out on the very first day of his being in our care for the first time without his parents. (That's a lot of firsts.) We flew overnight on French Bee from Miami to Paris Orly and landed on June 6th--at the start of a one-day General Strike. Ack! Les Français et ses grèves. We had no idea what to expect, but that things were not as they usually are on a Tuesday in June became evident as we sat on the plane for an hour and a half waiting to disembark. Our jetway was not ready (not enough personnel willing to work) and so portable stairs had ...
Read more

My Driving Life

Image
  I learned to drive in 1965 on my father’s 1952 pristine Bentley along the winding, one-and-a-half-wide lanes in the Surrey hills. As if the size of the car and the lack of rack-and-pinion steering wasn’t hard enough to handle, the ankle-high gear shift tucked between the front seats was often the stick that broke the camel’s back for me.  Invisible gear shift between seats My father, an erstwhile British army colonel, was not the most patient of teachers, and I was glad of his additional gift of six driving lessons at the local school, with a mild-mannered, retired schoolteacher in Leatherhead. Amazingly, I passed the test on my first try, much to my siblings’ amazement, who were convinced that at 21 I was not much use at anything except a good cry. (A slight exaggeration, but you get the picture of a slightly overwhelmed middle child.) It was not the norm in England in the 1960s for every member of a household to own a car. So, I had to beg my mother to loan me her much mor...
Read more

Evaluating Voyages

Image
  How does the song go: A life on the ocean wave… How I longed to have that life when I was a teenager looking for a career after high school. Assistant purser was what I had in mind, and most of my friends had no idea what that was or why on earth I was determined to be one. (Before I go any further, let’s have full disclosure: I never attained my dream due to discovering the most important skill needed to be an assistant purser was a high level of math. Talk about a downer for this dummy, who didn’t even pass her Maths O Level!) What I would have been good at was Social Director, but it wasn’t a thing back then. What, you may wonder, attracted me to a life aboard an ocean liner? From the first voyage I made with my parents when I was nearly three and we were on our way to Hamburg overnight from Harwich just after WWII so my father’s Army posting as Port Commandant could begin, I was hooked. There was something about falling asleep to the gentle hum of the ship’s engines, the fun ...
Read more