Bring Up the Bodies

“…it is no small enterprise, to bring down a queen of England.” So says Thomas Cromwell, who in Bring up the Bodies finds himself charged with doing just that…again. It’s unlikely that anyone reading this novel is being introduced to its major players for the first time. Henry VIII and his many wives have been fiction fodder for centuries. But Mantel’s version of the downfall of Anne Boleyn, her family and her courtiers feels brand-spanking new even to those who have read all the novels and watched all the dramas. It’s a matter of perspective. To see this history, much of which is unreliably recorded at best, from the point of view of the man most responsible for carrying out the King’s wishes, casts it all in a clearer show more and much less romantic light than many others have done. In Henry’s Court, queens, no less than advisors, are replaceable. MUST be replaceable if they do not fulfill the duties and meet the needs of the King, whatever the laws of man and God seem to dictate to the contrary. Cromwell himself knows quite well that he is not exempt from this rule. “Sometimes he wakes in the night and thinks of it. There are courtiers who have honourably retired. He can think of instances. Of course, it is the other kind that loom larger, if you are wakeful around midnight.” Logic suggests that one day, possibly without warning, Henry will turn on him, and his efforts to satisfy the King’s desires will be viewed as treason when those desires change once more. So far, that day has not come. His heart is not faint, and his scruples do not trouble him. He methodically removes the stumbling blocks –most of them human—from the path King Henry has chosen to follow. And then it is inevitable that someone will ask “…if this is what Cromwell does to …lesser enemies, what will he do by and by to the king himself?” Mantel’s style can be challenging, but I have not found it so since becoming absorbed in the first 50 pages or so of Wolf Hall, to which Bring up the Bodies is a sequel. Her research, imagination and storytelling skills have made her one of my favorite contemporary authors. May she live and prosper to recount the rest of Cromwell’s fascinating contributions to English history. We all know, or can easily find out, whether it is Henry or Crumb who will bring the other down. But how we long to hear it from the inimitable vantage point Mantel has established. show less

I do not know why Mantel was doing this. I can only try to guess. It almost feels like she fell in love with a character of her own creation and would not stop at anything in order to portray him as a singular genius of his time.
Indeed, so singular Thomas Cromwell appears in the book that no other character can even come close to having an equal footed conversation with him. He is so above and beyond people surrounding him that he has a statue of a giant. So how does Mantel accomplish her dubious task of fabricating a modern day mythological hero?
First, as I already mentioned, she needs to put everybody else down. Historical figures around Cromwell are all diminished in their thoughts, words, and actions. They are selfish, haughty, show more unscrupulous, immoral, inconsistent, disloyal, gullible and naïve - all at the same time. Cromwell drives through them like a knife through butter. He glitters and shines, he captivates and disarms. Here is where the second tool employed by Mantel in glorification of her protagonist really hits home. The descriptions, the dialogues, the phases, the punchlines are extraordinary good! First and penultimate chapters deserve the highest literary praise. Imagine if she could put these unique weapons at her disposal to some good use?
As it goes, she fails in the one goal she has set out to achieve. At least in the eyes of this reader, the magnificent baron of Wimbledon comes out as a power-hungry, cruel, vengeful, cunning, manipulative liar. A worthy Machiavellian disciple. How could Hilary fall for such a man? show less

Killer ending. Just... killer.

I found Wolf Hall to be meandering, dreamlike, and more welcoming to mental digressions. Nowhere in that first book was I presented with any cause for questioning my sympathy and identification with Thomas Cromwell--he was written as a 20th or 21st century man out of time, and his steady progress to the top of the heap presented as the inexorable, inevitable march of history. Wheel(s) of time grinding slowly, exceedingly small, etc.

Bring Up the Bodies is a different matter--the pace is faster, the language and plot tighter. There's a lot of looking backward, as there was in Wolf Hall, but the past to which Cromwell looks is increasingly closer. My overall impression was of acceleration, speed and power show more poised on the edge of control. Oh, and extreme cold. I guess I found the reading somewhat akin to skiing.

It's fitting, in a way, that a book about massive and rapid sociopolitical change should evoke the kind of speed inconceivable in Tudor England. The very reading can feel like having a rug pulled out from under you. Or, think of a car, or a locomotive, or an over-50mph city bus ("Speed" came up a few times over the weekend!). Is Cromwell behind the wheel, and (to what extent) is he in charge? show less

Mantel writes beautiful prose and has a deeply held perspective on history. After a zillion books about Anne Boleyn and her fair, but lost head, Mantel's telling of this story is rich and compelling. Seen through the eyes of Thomas Cromwell, the Tudor court is both glittering and rotting. As Henry's top advisor it is up to Cromwell to re-write the past, to punish transgressors to Henry's vision, and to remove any obstacle to Henry's desire for a son.

Henry is an after-thought here. He's the Wizard of Ozian character, back behind the curtain, pulling the levers and setting the task. The stars here are Anne and Cromwell as they pursue a fever-pitched battle for survival. If you know only the bare bones of this history, you know who won show more (and no, it was neither Anne nor Cromwell).

Mantel's writing is impeccable, her plot and timing spot-on, her imagery vivid. This is not your average historical fiction, but rather a deep dive into the history of the Tudor court in all its tarnished beauty. A must read. show less

Where I got the book: my local library.

Now this is where the ratings system gets all screwy. Compared to the run of histfic, Bring Up The Bodies is a 5-star read in terms of quality (I never nitpick about historical accuracy). But compared to my 5-star experience of Wolf Hall, Bring Up The Bodies didn't quite come up to scratch and, although my opinion hovers somewhere around the 4.5 range, being constrained to whole numbers I'm giving it 4 stars to make the distinction.

Get it? Oh, never mind. On with the review.

I thought Bring Up The Bodies started beautifully. The first chapter was masterful, and pulled me right back into Cromwell's head and Henry VIII's court. And then things got a little dry. There wasn't enough of this:

"When show more Stephen comes into a room, the furnishings shrink from him. Chairs scuttle backwards. Joint-stools flatten themselves like pissing bitches. The woolen Bible figures in the king's tapestries lift their hands to cover their ears."

or this:

"Anne's lovers are phantom gentlemen, flitting by night with adulterous intent. They come and go by night, unchallenged. They skim over the river like midges, flicker against the dark, their doublets sewn with diamonds. The moon sees them, peering from her hood of bone, and Thames water reflects them, glimmering like fish, like pearls."

All of those moments where we're in both Cromwell's head and the author's are what I enjoy most. I don't believe for a moment that Cromwell is actually thinking in terms of these literary images, but the glory of literature is that you can take a character's supposed thoughts and pass them through a sort of kaleidoscope of words, so that the author's opinion (history's opinion? I don't know) and Cromwell's form more than the sum of their parts; Stephen Gardiner's scariness, the whole question of whether Anne's lovers were figments of the imagination. It's these flights of imagery that made Wolf Hall transcend the ordinary reading experience for me, and there was a big desert in the middle of Bodies where all we got was dialogue and short, efficient bursts of narrative; well written, indeed, but not exciting.

Perhaps it was the subject-matter at this point, because for quite a while Cromwell is caught up in the political maneuvering that leads up to Anne's demise. (view spoiler) I felt that Mantel got her groove back once that episode was over, the outcome was pretty clear and Cromwell became once more the observer. Could it be that the political stuff in the middle was more fully documented and Mantel felt that she had to cover it, whereas the last third was more open to her imagination? That's just a guess on my part.

Anyway, the book has only diminished my Mantel fangirlishness by about 6%, so I'd still recommend this novel. But read Wolf Hall first. show less

I'm so delighted that this even surpassed Wolf Hall in terms of my utter reading enjoyment. Yes, a big part of that is that our court story is getting to the really gripping part with Anne Boleyn getting her alleged comeuppance, but also as the characters were now familiar it was easier to immediately sink into the story and get back to feeling like a fly on the wall again.

Tension is ripe throughout this second novel. Henry isn't happy, and that pervades the air in every nook and cranny of court, but this feels different to the crisis with Katherine of Aragon. Henry feels different. Cromwell is up to his neck now in terms of responsibility for making things happen for the king, but even after everything has been achieved in terms of show more doing away with Anne Boleyn there is a sense that nothing is over; it is all just beginning. A line has been crossed (although most of Europe seem to think this is child's play compared to Katherine being ousted), and the game feels acutely more dangerous now.

Utterly superb visualisation of this classic time in history.

5 stars - I'm clutching at straws to find any fault with this wonderful book. show less

So these may be two stone-cold literary and popular classics of the 21st century, fully and deservedly so. In Wolf Hall, Thomas Cromwell rose from nothing to one of the most powerful men in Tudor England. Now he holds and consolidates his power having learned his lessons well. And the lesson was this: give Henry what he wants. Start giving it before Henry even knows he wants it. And what Henry wants is this: a new wife. Anne Boleyn must go, and Thomas Cromwell, intelligent, adaptable, genial and even liberal must ensure justice is done the way justice must be done. That he will avenge himself on old enemies is part of his elegant design. Cromwell becomes truly terrifying here, even more so than the petulant child of a king or the show more arrogant and presumptuous queen. We like Cromwell. We see he does good. We see he tries to minimise the damage. he is realistic and compassionate without being sentimental. It is best to be ruthless and, having chosen a course, pursue it without question or apology. And so the queen falls, and others fall with her. And what are we to make of this?

A masterpiece of historical fiction, a humane portrait of a man written off as a monster, but which does not flinch from his bloody deeds. An amazing piece of work, and presumably, one that, like the life and work of Thomas Cromwell, has yet to be concluded. show less