Book Review: "The Pretender" by Jo Harkin

 

[I was provided a review copy from the publisher via Netgalley.]

Oh, what a book! I am only sorry that it is not being published until April 2025, although I am nothing but glad that I got to read it so early.
 

The Pretender by Jo Harkin is a sweeping historical fiction novel that tells a highly fictionalized version of the youth and young adulthood of Lambert Simnel, who was claimed to really be Edward Plantagenet, 17th Earl of Warwick, and a challenger to the throne of the newly crowned Henry VII.

Very little is known about the real Lambert Simnel, including his actual name. Some contemporary records apparently call him John, which is presumably where Jo Harkin got the boy's “first” name--John Collan--from.

It is known that the real Simnel was captured and pardoned by Henry VII, who made him spit-boy in the kitchens and later a falconer. It is believed he may have had at least one child, but his adulthood and ultimate fate, like the boy himself, is generally shrouded in mystery.

This makes it ripe for fiction, of course. Thankfully, Harkin plucked this ripeness in just the right season.

While most of the novel is quite fictionalized, it feels plausible enough unless you are an incredible stickler for historical accuracy. While some eras of history are harder for me to accept deviations from the record in, this isn’t one of them, so I didn’t mind any inaccuracies (and there are some, of course) because of the book’s well thought-out conceit.

Simnel, who begins the book as John Collan, transforms throughout the novel–and not only in the outward sense, from farm boy to supposed-heir-to-the-throne. But we are thrust into his internal transformations, which are often half-complete and conflicting, playing with the novel’s themes about identity, belonging, happiness, love, morality, greed and ultimately, the seeming need for revenge.

Who is John, Simnel, Edward? Is he a peasant, a pretender, an earl? Does it matter? Can he love someone else, if he doesn’t know who he is? How is he supposed to live, when he’s been so many people, and none of them, perhaps, were the real him?

There is heartache in this book. Tragedy, abuse, lies that come to fester and rot. There is also humor. There were quite a few passages (including one very well placed “What. The. Fuck.) that had me chuckling. There is beauty and grossness and everything one needs to explore the essence of being human.

The only element of the book that fell very flat for me was a strange detour near the end that focused heavily on sex. Yes, people have sex, including people in the past. I’m not pretending people were prudes. But it was just a bit strange for the book to suddenly hone in on sex as a narrative device for so long; maybe it’s something I will better understand with a re-read, or maybe it’s something that just didn’t gel with me.

But this theme doesn’t last for too long, all things considered. And it does take place in the context of Simnel experiencing yet another changing-of-the-guards in his identity, so there is an element of franticness about the whole thing that keeps it from being too over the top.

The storyline takes place over several years, and Harkin does well to show us the development of Simnel as he ages and is tutored in more complex subjects.

As Simnel goes from a young boy learning basic Latin to a young man being presented with moral quandaries as tests for his potential kingship, we see how his moral character develops–even as he is faced with an increasing number of horrific events that test his understanding of the world. And most importantly of all, his understanding of himself.

Overall, I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in a sweeping historical fiction that combines humor with witness, stark humanity, and overarching themes about identity, love, honor and revenge.

Book Review: "When We Flew Away: A Novel of Anne Frank Before the Diary" by Alice Hoffman

 

[I received a review copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.]

When Scholastic announced the publication of When We Flew Away: A Novel of Anne Frank Before the Diary by Alice Hoffman was announced earlier this year, I was both excited and tentative.

I do think that a historical fiction novel about Anne Frank aimed at younger readers (on their website, Scholastic suggests this book for 8-12 year olds) may be a way for a new generation of readers to become interested in Anne's story before they are ready to read her diary.
 

Unfortunately, I really struggled with this book and I have trouble imagining most student-age children wanting to read it or feeling engaged with it.

The book is incredibly lyrical and fanciful, and almost the entire story (what little there is of an actual story, due to said lyrical and fancifulness often taking pages and pages simply to muse on subjects rather than propel any narrative) is written in a passive "tell, not show" style that quickly becomes wearisome.

Very rarely do any of the characters in the story feel like real people that you might read about in any other historical fiction. This is primarily because Hoffman writes in a lyrical third person omniscient style, we are constantly told how characters act and feel.

We are told Anne is this way, we are told the grandmother feels that way; very rarely do we get any information through character action or dialogue. On the rare occasions when we do, this is often immediately followed up by yet another barrage of explanatory, lyrical sentences that tell us everything without allowing the story to show.

If anyone in the family happens to behave in a way that might seem unpleasant, Hoffman is quick to reassure us that actually, they only behaved that way because of some specific explanation. Then we get metaphorical sentences for at least a paragraph or two before moving on.

The omniscient style extends into the future as well, as throughout the book we learn about events that are yet to come, such as the deaths of certain percentages of Jewish people from a certain city, and the fate of Jewish people in Europe in general.

 If the story had been written from the perspective of some otherworldly narrator (like "Death" in The Book Thief) then perhaps this would have felt fitting.

As it is, it only works to further detach When We Flew Away from the realm of historical fiction that seeks to present real people and events and closer into a heavy metaphorical narrative non-fiction.

Due to this style, it is only rarely that anyone in the book feels like a person with real thoughts or behaviors. Everyone almost feels like an exalted metaphorical figure, already knowing their fates and behaving like whimsical metaphors. Anne in this book does not feel like Anne from her diary or the Anne recounted by those who knew her.

There are a few stand out moments where the characters feel real--a moment when Anne is accosted by a Nazi after she stands too long near an ice rink; her father's excitement when he thinks they have finally made progress in seeking refuge in America--but these are vastly outnumbered by the constant metaphors and lyrical prose.

While Hoffman does occasionally allow a little of character to show in Anne, it quickly jumps back to presenting Anne as this sort of vague, whimsical, adult-in-a-child's body character who constantly sees metaphorical black moths encroaching on her world.

Hoffman's writing is not bad. There are some beautiful passages in here. The trouble is that the entire book is written in this fanciful omniscient passive style that feels catered more towards adults who read middle grade than actual middle grade readers who might be looking for an engaging historical fiction story.

When reading the novel, I couldn't help but think about recent social media posts discussing this very issue: how middle grade books are more and more catering to adults who buy them for kids, and not the children themselves.

This might be a perfect read for someone looking for an evocative, lyrical book. Unfortunately, it wasn't right for me.

Book Review: 'Hiroshima: The Last Witnesses' by M.G. Sheftall

 

[I received a review copy of this publication from the publisher via Netgalley.]
 

Hiroshima: The Last Witnesses by M.G. Sheftall is the first volume in what will be a two-book series covering Sheftall's extensive research into the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This first volume, which covers the bombing of Hiroshima, is the result of years of personal interviews with Hiroshima survivors and research into the atomic bomb and its effects, including literal physical effects and the social and psychological effects that survivors faced down the years.
 
If I were to choose one word to describe this book, it would be this: unrelenting. Because when the chapters begin to hone in on details clearly gleaned from the personal testimony of survivors, it really does feel like an unrelenting surge of horror that you can’t look away from. Nor should you be able to.
 
Sheftall’s book begins chronologically, with the lead-up to the bombing, some backstory on its creation and mechanics, before moving into what begins as chronological almost minute-by-minute testimony related to survivors and victims of the bomb.
 
It is in the information taken from interviews and testimonies that the importance of this book really takes shape.
 
While Sheftall's book is not the first English-language book to contain detailed testimony from survivors, it is the first one I’ve read which incorporates every possible human detail and, most importantly of all in terms of historical value, places that testimony into its proper context.
 
We are not just told that a person was at such-and-such a place during the bomb. Those who died, and those who survived, are not vague figures or statistics mentioned in passing. Instead, Sheftall reconstructs who they were, how they came to be in a specific place when the bomb dropped, and even <I>why</I> they were there in the first place.
 
Due to the ages of the survivors Sheftall interviewed, most of the detailed survivor accounts come from students who had been part of the forced labor mobilization that took Japanese students out of the classrooms and placed them in factories, working on firebreaks, and training for what was expected to be a land invasion. So many of the victims discussed here were killed in schools, or while working with classmates; survivors, more often than not, were those who happened to stay home that day.
 
It quickly becomes clear when reading Sheftall’s account of events that the difference between life and death in Hiroshima was often due to random circumstances.
 
One girl survived because her class team leader lost a game to determine which students worked on an area that would end up being close to ground zero, while the others were further away and thus, more likely to survive the bombing. One boy survived because he had a stomach ache and, since his father (who would not have accepted a stomach ache as a reason to stay home from important war work) was not home, his mother let him stay in bed to rest.
 
It is when exploring these human details that the book is at its most engrossing and informative, despite the unrelenting nature of the information we learn. The reconstruction of events created from invaluable primary sources (I.e, Sheftall’s many interviews, along with published narratives and testimony) provide invaluable information about what was happening on the ground, in addition to sharing what will be far lesser known experiences to English-speaking readers.
 
However, shortly after the initial set of detailed minute-by-minute testimony about the bomb and its short and long aftermath, the book suddenly seems to stop: it goes from a chronological account based on survivor testimony into modern first person anecdotes from the perspective of Sheftall.
 
These first person passages(both the initial interlude and then later random passages) tend to revolve around Sheftall’s research. Sheftall recalls how he felt judged when visiting a memorial park, how he convinced a certain survivor to give an interview, how he attended various memorials down the years and his reception there.
 
In these passages, the book feels like it’s more about Sheftall than the subject of the narrative. This may have felt more appropriate as an author’s note in the introduction, but it is rather strange when it occurs on and off throughout the book proper.
 
Another jarring element of the book is that while it began chronologically before suddenly shifting to a chapter discussing Sheftall visiting a survivor in the hopes of gaining an interview, after this initial first person interlude,  it jumps back to “the beginning,” so to speak.
 
After the sudden chapter from the author’s point-of-view, the book heads back in time to present another round of testimonies starting before the bomb dropped. From this point on, the chapters go back and forth so often, suddenly stopping the narrative about a certain family or individual before beginning a new chapter about someone else, that it becomes dizzying. It’s essential to take notes to keep track of everyone, and it’s frustrating to constantly go back and forth in the timeline.
 
While the book excels at presenting detailed information about the survivors and victims that presents a complete picture of the human beings affected by the decisions of the governments above them, sometimes I had to wonder why Sheftall spent so much time on certain elements.
 
The strongest example of this is a multi-chapter interlude where Sheftall goes into the history of Christianity in Japan and then specifically in Christianity in Hiroshima. This interlude begins after Sheftall ends a chapter by noting a survivor who ended up turning to Christianity in the years after the bombing.
 
Then we are suddenly thrust into a multi-chapter historical lesson (it takes two chapters to get back to the survivor in question) that veers so far off from the narrative path that I had to go back two chapters to remind myself where we had been.
 
This type of excessive backstory also tends to happen when companies or organizations are mentioned. Instead of a paragraph or two explaining the history or context of the company, we get multiple pages about them, all simply because one person worked for them at the time of the bombing.
 
While I absolutely appreciate that Sheftall brings proper context to the people and events in question, sometimes--as with the two chapter Christianity backstory--it feels excessive.
 
Eventually, the book does fall back into a more-or-less chronological narrative, discussing the social and political aftermath of the bombings for those that survived. This is another element of the book that shines strongly, particularly because Sheftall isn’t afraid to debunk myths and expose the less appealing underside of the narratives built up around the bombing in the decades afterward.
 
Sheftall, for instance, notes one survivor who became unpopular in survivor’s groups because she wrote about and denounced the ultra-conservative narrative being embraced by the families of many victims; this narrative mirrored the same narrative used in the enshrinement of war criminals at Yasukuni shrine. While other books might shy away from exposing this unappealing element--both the narrative and the treatment of the survivor--Sheftfall lets readers take it in.
 
Overall, while I have some misgivings about the structure of the book and the sometimes jumbled focus, I do think that Sheftalls’ incredible intimate, detailed reconstructions of the experiences of those who survived--or didn’t survive--the bombing of Hiroshima will make this one of “the” books on the subject in the years to come.
 
 

Book Review: Thorns, Lust and Glory by Estelle Paranque

 

[I received a review copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.]
 

Thorns, Lust and Glory: The Betrayal of Anne Boleyn by Estelle Paranque is a highly engaging book that doesn’t quite live up to the presumption of “betrayal” made in the title.

The premise set up in the early pages of Thorns, Lust and Glory: The Betrayal of Anne Boleyn and explored throughout the book is admittedly somewhat blurry: the general idea is that Anne was "betrayed" by the French who refused to take a stand against Rome in favor of supporting England, Henry VIII and her marriage.

The book later fleshes out this idea, positing that this was a “betrayal” because Anne was essentially a "French princess," that she had been acting in French interests after her rise in England, and thus the refusal of the French king and court to support England over Rome and step in when Anne herself was arrested was specifically a betrayal against Anne Boleyn herself.

While Paranque explores what we do know of Anne's connections to France (which continued after she left England, to at last some degree) and discusses at length the political and diplomatic schemes, plots and pleadings involved in the various attempts to gain French support for Henry VIII’s annulment and remarriage, I don't feel that the general thesis was actually supported by this presented evidence.

Yes, Anne served in the court of France for some years. Yes, Anne entertained French ambassadors, and went with Henry to France in their bid to get Francis' support for their marriage. Yes, the French sent various diplomats at various times to attempt to drum up support for Henry VIII’s will on the matter of his marriage(s).

But nothing written about in this book supports this idea that Anne was acting in French interests, that she was--as Paranque writes numerous times in the book--essentially a "French princess," nor that the French’s actions could be viewed as as a “betrayal” against Anne Boleyn.

Paranque writes in her introduction that, “Some dialogue has been re-created from primary sources and perhaps I have also allowed myself more speculative claims that again are based on primary evidence, but rely evidently on my own judgment and appreciation of them.”

In regards to the dialogue being primary sources repurposed, it’s not something I like to see done in non-fiction  without the author admitting that they are putting letters into a different context at the moment.

Otherwise, readers are left to wonder: is what I’m reading an accurate representation of this primary source? Was the original primary source a letter, which has been spun into a piece of dialogue? Did the primary source use these exact words? What does recreated mean, here?

While it may make the book more readable, it makes the final understanding of the history fuzzier, and thus not something I want to rely on when learning about Anne Boleyn or these events.

Speculation is inherent when writing about history, especially a figure like Anne Boleyn where there are shockingly few traces of her thoughts and feelings, but the speculation in the book often goes too far.

There is a difference between, for instance, suggesting that a young Anne would have surely been impressed by royal spectacle witnessed as a lady-in-waiting to the French queen and what Paranque does repeatedly throughout this work, which is connect basic events ("Anne witnessed this spectacle while serving in France") and leap to vaster conclusions.

For instance, Paranque writes, after exploring the brief courtship between Henry Percy and Anne Boleyn, that Anne was "buoyed with confidence from her years in France, and what she had learned from the royal women there, she felt ready for whatever might be in store. Secretly, she prayed for glory."

Did she? When? What about Anne's reaction (which is to say--we don't know it!) to the ending of her courtship with Percy, or anything at all from this period, suggests that she was secretly praying for glory? Suggesting that perhaps she admired the powerful women at the French court is one thing, but writing at this stage that she secretly prayed for glory is an entirely different level of speculation.

Although I don’t really agree with the basic premise of the book and I don’t think there was any great revelation made here regarding Anne being “betrayed” by France, I did appreciate some of the smaller details that Paranque was able to uncover regarding Anne’s time in France, along with more detailed information about the movement of diplomats in regards to the “marriage problem” of Henry VIII.

I think that many popular portrayals about the marriage forget just how long it took for decisions to be made, just how many politicians, courtiers and clergymen were tasked with trying to resolve the king’s “question” of his marriage; all these moving parts, at least in regards to France, are covered here in a way that is easy to understand.

Paranque’s writing is very engaging as well, even when the book is covering what might otherwise be a bit of a slog to get through. Sometimes I felt like I was listening to someone speak passionately about a subject they were invested in, which makes for easier reading when it comes to non-fiction. You can tell that Paranque has a strong passion for Anne Boleyn and respect for what she endured in her final days.

Although I don’t think the book lives up to the premise that Anne was “betrayed” by the French, I do think the book is worth a look if you’re interested in more of the behind-the-scenes diplomatic details regarding Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. The book does contain more actual primary sources (versus speculation about what Anne surely must have felt or done) when it comes to these diplomatic missions, so that is one of the stronger areas of the book.