Tuesday, 24 September 2024

My review of Lady Jane Grey, by Hester W. Chapman

Lady Jane Grey

by Hester W. Chapman

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

I have read widely for decades, tomes old and new, on Tudor royals and courtiers. Here was a girl forever pushed to the back of my reading cue. I, like many, knew Lady Jane Grey as 'that' girl who only reigned for nine days. That she was executed under Queen ['Bloody'] Mary I whose ministers charged Jane with treason for usurping Mary. The knowledge I lacked involved the circumstantial details. Who was driving such a plot besides Jane's ambitious parents? Why? And to what extent Jane herself was a willing or unwilling participant.

Here is all of that explained plus more. We explore Jane's regal family background, her right royal education as an heir to Henry III's throne and her differing relationships with each of her three cousins, the main contenders for Henry's throne, who for much of Jane's life were ahead of her in the succession.

The succession became reordered along the way. By the premature demise of Henry's sickly primary heir, young King Edward VI, Jane's place had been manoeuvred, without her consultation, to the front. 

This, most know, was a religio-political move steered by powerbrokers fervent to keep the crown from Catholic Mary and 'bastard' Elizabeth.

What many are often left wondering is: why did the famously reluctant Jane go along with this at all? And why, when her famously forgiving cousin Queen Mary, after only nine days, successfully took back her rightful place from the 'usurping' Jane, did Jane end up with her head on the execution block? I had hitherto felt to have been offered a varying range of partly subjective explanations by historians seemingly wanting to gloss over it all in their quest to discuss greater icons.  

Like many of this period's complex, intertwined scenarios, this has a cast of thousands. That includes the religiously polarised English citizenry, Jane's dynastically ambitious family and the troublesome in-laws attached to her arranged marriage which could have been avoided. Not forgetting the wily foreign officials representing Queen Mary's husband-to-be, Philip of Spain. Queen Mary herself, it seems, had her hands tied and was not necessarily the all-vengeful monster history has passed down to us.

This is a meaty read for those seasoned in the main facts of Tudor England and wanting to fill in the classic gaps. Eruditely composed and researched, it escapes the trap of becoming too academically dry. Such are the makings of a high calibre, yet popular, historical biography. 

A well detailed, entertaining and informative accomplishment. I was all the better for having read it.

My Review of Elizabeth of York: A Tudor Queen and Her World, by Alison Weir

Elizabeth of York: A Tudor Queen and Her World

by Alison Weir

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

We hear relatively little from historians about this fascinating queen consort, whose blood claim to England’s throne was far greater than that of her husband, King Henry VII, the first Tudor monarch with whom she founded the famous dynasty. Her emblematic White Rose of York, paired with Henry’s Red Rose of Lancaster, formed the Tudor Rose, that great diplomatic solution to the Wars of the Roses which remains England’s official floral emblem.

Born in Westminster Palace, the oldest child of King Edward IV, it was because of her gender that Elizabeth was never considered for rulership in her own right. This biological ‘handicap’ would be rethought for her granddaughter and namesake, Queen Elizabeth I, the last Tudor monarch, for the politics of post-reformation religion. In Elizabeth of York’s youth there were too many male claimants, virulently competing, for women to be considered. Towards the culmination of the protracted ‘Cousin’s War’ it was every man for himself, and every woman put forward by her male guardian for politically advantageous marriage stakes.

Alison Weir has always been one of my favourite historical non-fiction authors. Here she again treads where others have not, using her characteristic inventorial detail and commonsensical personal reasoning to draw a literary portrait of an erstwhile somewhat two-dimensional figure. Traditionally drawn as a somewhat stiff, obedient character not unlike her future daughter-in-law Jane Seymour, Elizabeth had other sides explored at length in this entrancing biography. She was no dark horse, no villainess, but no bland Pollyanna either.

She was the older sister of the ‘princes in the tower’ who mysteriously vanished leaving room for their Regent-uncle Gloucester to become King Richard III. Once widowed, King Richard even considered marrying this niece, to strengthen his shaky claim to the throne. The incestuous notion, however, triggered mass repulsion, further weakening, rather than strengthen, his profile, already in damage control after so cunningly and callously usurping his uncrowned juvenile nephew. Elizabeth, not only having expressed no objection to the proposed match, was even put out when he decided against marrying her (astonishing, considering that, to justify his own coup, Richard had earlier declared Elizabeth's parents' marriage invalid, deeming Elizabeth and her siblings illegitimate and ineligible for the throne).

But such was Elizabeth's cool determination to claim her due place on the throne of an England offering princesses few independent choices. Regardless of whether as ruler or consort, she believed herself destined to sit there, as did the English people, who would in time come to revere her.

Almost married off to first George Neville, nephew of the 16th Earl of Warwick (‘The Kingmaker’), then to Louis XI of France’s son, the Dauphin Charles, her destiny had been uncertain for much of her early life. Eventually a mother of seven, she was reputedly pious, benevolent, dutiful yet quietly resilient, having endured much adversity during her mother’s early widowhood, when they lived in the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey after King Edward IV’s death at aged forty from an acute and unspecified illness. 

The daughter of the legendary ‘White Queen’, Elizabeth Woodville, Elizabeth of York was thought beautiful, inheriting her father’s good looks but most notably he mother’s fair complexion and distinctive red-gold hair, passed down to her infamous son, King Henry VIII, and grandchildren King Edward VI and Queen Elizabeth I (their elder sister, Queen ‘Bloody’ Mary I, had auburn hair, darkened perhaps by her Spanish mother’s genes). 

According to folklore, Elizabeth of York is the ‘queen ... in the parlour’ in the nursery rhyme ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’; her husband, the famously parsimonious King Henry VII, being the ‘king ... counting out his money’. Her marriage, forged by dynastic necessity, became a rare true love match.

She died in the Tower of London, then still a royal residence, on her 37th birthday, following a postpartum infection from giving birth to Princess Katherine who lived for only eight days. Henry VII was so grief stricken he became ill, disallowing all but his mother Margaret Beaufort into his presence. His intense grief lasted for years, his reputation for miserliness and paranoia becoming markedly worse. The Tower of London was thereafter abandoned as a royal residence.

Afforded a more lavish funeral than even her father, Edward IV, Elizabeth lay in state at the Tower and was interred at Westminster Abbey's magnificent Henry VII Lady Chapel commissioned by her husband. She and Henry still lay there together, their graves topped with an elaborate bronze effigy.

The last Plantagenet to wear any royal crown (her uncle Richard being the last to reign), Elizabeth of York was titular predecessor and mother-in-law of Katherine of Aragon. She was a great-grandmother of ‘Nine Days Queen’ Lady Jane Grey and a grandmother, great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother to Scottish monarchs James V, Mary Queen of Scots and James VI and I of Scotland and England. An ancestor of today’s British royals, she is an important genealogical link of continuum between Norman rulers, from whom the Plantagenets sprang, and Queen Elizabeth II.

While this is not my clear favourite Weir biography, neither is its subject the most exciting historical royal. Just because their most glittering subjects are already covered does not mean any great writer such as this should cease working. Like the great Lady Antonia Fraser, Alison Weir displays uncommon bravery by taking on certain of history’s less widely popular figures, having already claimed her place as one of this genre’s contemporary giants. This was, overall, another truly absorbing, entertaining and enlightening addition to my ‘Read’ list. I closed the last page having come to know personally a great lady who should have been queen in her own right and today would have been.

My review of Sleep It Off Lady, by Jean Rhys

Sleep It Off Lady

by Jean Rhys

My rating: 5 out of 5 stars

The late Jean Rhys remains my favourite writer ever and this selection of her work shines as only her words can. There was no one like her before, nor has there been anyone since. Her wry, brutally honest, self-deprecating voice is so beautifully tormented she's irresistible whatever your gender. She grabs you by the heart, chews you up and spits you out, somehow leaving you begging for more.

The heart wrenching title story sums up the book brilliantly, an excellent tale to choose. As with most of Rhys' work, a common thread in this collection is the theme of the displaced woman, the foreigner, the outsider, the stranger to this strange world of ours. We so readily take her into our hearts, understand and empathise completely. Her issues are ones most people have had at some time or other, but few have conveyed so succinctly. 

These are the short works of an underrated enigma, in my opinion, who took my breath away from the first word of the first page of the first book I read of hers. This was the last of her fiction that I read, completing her life works. Unsurprisingly, she maintained her hypnotic hold over me to the last word. That was when I decided to start over and read her from scratch, every word, line, every book that she ever had published.

If you get one fleeting chance in a lifetime to read this cult status legend, you'd be nuts to consider letting it pass.

My review of Les Misérables, by Victor Hugo

Les Misérables

by Victor Hugo

My rating: 5 out of 5 stars

It gets no better than Victor Hugo's 1862 epic, considered one of the 19th century's greatest novels.

The masterpiece is a breathtaking reminder of the limitless extremes of human cruelty and generosity, as true for today's world as it was for Hugo's. The reader is seduced into caring deeply about the plights of these wondrous, intensely drawn characters.

Set between 1815 and the June 1832 Paris Rebellion, it follows various parallel lives, focusing on ex-convict Jean Valjean and his life of redemption. Although a force for good in the world, he cannot escape his criminal past. Reinventing himself as Monsieur Madeleine, he becomes a wealthy factory builder, parochially renowned for his benevolence and is, by popular demand, appointed Mayor.

Valjean, we wish was somewhere round our own corner, a man whose impossible decency we immediately warm and aspire to. His great adversary, fanatical police inspector Javert, is on an obsessive, unending crusade to recapture Valjean. Someone we wish dreadful events upon, Javert eventually meets an unsavoury end we'd perhaps prefer more terrible.

Haunting characters are tragedienne factory worker Fantine, whose fostered-out daughter, Cosette, Valjean rescues from cruel innkeepers Monsieur and Madame Thénardier. Raising Cosette as his own daughter, Valjean keeps his convict past as much a secret from her as from everyone else. Meanwhile, the Thénardiers' elder daughter, Éponine, a parentally pampered and spoiled child, ends up a street urchin, falling for revolutionary Marius. The latter, however, has eyes only for the now privileged Cosette, adopted daughter of Mayer Valjean, alias Monsieur Madeleine.

Not just these main characters, but the thousands of extras vividly crowding Hugo's rich, textured backdrop, earn our heartfelt concerns and goodwill. We know precisely why thieves thieve, why rebels rebel, why gendarmes, jailers and bureaucrats are to be avoided at all costs. We are, indeed, revolutionaries ourselves as we take this journey alongside them, all the way to the torch-lit, gun smoke-shrouded barricades.

Themes and topics include historical Paris, politics, moral philosophy, antimonarchism, justice, religion, and variations of romantic and familial love.

Comprising five volumes and approximately 1,500 pages in unabridged English-language editions, this is one of the longest novels ever written. Not one to be rushed, savour every line and take as many months as you need. The resulting immeasurable satisfaction is a priceless treasure.

Sunday, 15 September 2024

My review of Home To Roost and Other Peckings, by Deborah Mitford

Home To Roost and Other Peckings

by Deborah Mitford

My rating: 4 out of 5 stars

This not being the first Deborah Devonshire née Mitford book I had read (I loved Wait for Me! too), I knew I would like it. Because, despite her humility and self-deprecating humour, this youngest Mitford sister, having reached the highest rank of them all, was of fine intellect and simple charm. 

She was always quick to point out how eldest sister and arch-tease Nancy Mitford joked of Deborah never exceeding the sophistication of a nine-year-old (even nicknaming her '9'). This was about Deborah's young spirit and unaffectedness. Famously well adjusted, she treated everyone the same, from royalty to pop star to servant. 

Yet being a Mitford, Deborah was hardly conventional and drew from an extraordinary life in her many books. She grew up inventing the secret language 'Honnish' with next older sister Jessica Mitford, stowed away in an airing cupboard they called the 'Hons Cupboard', hidden away from adults in their father's drafty old Oxfordshire mansion inherited by her father, the 2nd Baron Redesdale.

Mostly home educated by governesses, from age 6 Deborah had a passion for chickens which stayed with her for life, becoming, amongst endless other things, a connoisseur of fine poultry, hence this book's title. She was also a keen horse rider and a talented ice skater, reaching professional levels but not taking it up due to lack of parental approval.

After her presentation at court as a debutante, Deborah fell in love with and was betrothed to Lord Andrew Cavendish, second son of the 10th Duke of Devonshire. They married in 1941. By the end of the WWII Deborah had lost two babies, her only brother Tom, four best friends and two brothers-in-law. She still had her famous big sisters though: the Fascist, the Communist, the Nazi, the novelist (and stud farmer Pam). 

Her husband Andrew now became heir to his father's Dukedom. In her years as Duchess of Devonshire she discovered a necessary talent for stately home restoration, learning on the job with her magnificent 16th-century mansion Chatsworth House, which her husband the duke inherited with a tax bill of nearly $20 million in the post-WWII years. Their only way of keeping Chatsworth was to restore and open it up to the public to pay for itself. 

They sold artworks, land and iconic historic buildings like Hardwick Hall to pay taxes of 80 percent of the estate’s value: around $300 million in today’s money. Deborah's transformation turned it into a self-sustaining family business.

They managed to retain Bolton Abbey estate in Yorkshire and the Lismore Castle estate in Ireland, both having been in the Cavendish family for centuries, Lismore Castle once home to Fred Astaire's sister Adele, wife of Lord Charles Cavendish (Deborah's great uncle-in-law).

As Châtelaine, Deborah entertained world leaders at Chatsworth, her husband serving as Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Commonwealth Relations from 1960 to 1962, Minister of State at the Commonwealth Relations Office from 1962 to 1963, and for Colonial Affairs from 1963 to 1964. 

She received JFK and brother Bobby, to whom she was related by their sister Kathleen's marriage to Deborah's brother-in-law William (Kathleen and William died tragically young, with Kathleen buried with many Dukes of Devonshire in St Peter's Church, Edensor on the Devonshire family estate). Indeed, she was JFK's personal guest at his 1961 presidential inauguration and, more sadly, an attendee his 1963 memorial service. 

In the late 1950s and '60s it was not unheard of for the Queen Mother to invite Deborah to some event or other. Queen Elizabeth II herself had tea at Chatsworth. The then dazzling Princess Margaret's Chatsworth visits attracted other VIPs, movie stars such as Gary Cooper, literati figures like Evelyn Waugh (really an old friend of sisters Nancy and Diana), between which Deborah hobnobbed with the world's jet set, oversaw 35,000 acres of gardening, tended her famous hens and generally got her hands dirty. 

She wrote fascinating books, many about Chatsworth and her work there (she was even known to man the ticket office herself). Her Chatsworth books include Chatsworth: The House (1980), Farm Animals: Based on the Farmyard at Chatsworth (1991), Treasures of Chatsworth: A Private View (1991), Chatsworth Garden (1999) and Round About Chatsworth (2005).

Yet she remained the down-to-earth country girl who adored her many animals, kept on speaking terms with all her Mitford sisters even when the others were at loggerheads. Deborah never got into those Mitford feuds and fallouts. 'Their politics were nothing to do with me,' she said.  

She was perhaps the happiest and most grounded Mitford sister, despite her marked social elevation that set her somehow apart from her older siblings, having enjoyed a comparatively untroubled childhood then a stable lifelong marriage. 

Though minus that glaring Mitford rebellious streak, Deborah shared their sharp minds, penmanship skills, droll humour and regal 'Mitfordese' drawl ('Do admit!' 'Do tell!' 'Please picture!'). It was Deborah herself who as a girl started 'Do admit'. 

Yet simplistic in so many ways. Lucian Freud, who painted her several times, was a close friend. 'I see him when I go to London and I leave him eggs on the doorstep,' she said in an interview. 'He seems to like that. I really love him and I always have.'

Her candid patter of In Tearing Haste: Letters Between Deborah Devonshire and Patrick Leigh Fermor shows her capacity to chew the fat with a famous polyglot as if over beer and peanuts.

Just as her dotty banter in The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters betrays an endearing almost vagueness, yet a deep personal loyalty. She is clearly the 'nice' one, with whom one would feel safest at a state banquet, country pig fair or couture salon hop.   

She was an ardent Elvis Presley fan. Interviewed in The Daily Telegraph, in 2007, she recounted having tea with Hitler on a visit to Munich in 1937 with her mother and sister Unity, the latter being the only one of the three who spoke German and therefore carrying on the entire conversation with Hitler. The Telegraph interviewer asked who Deborah would have preferred tea with: Elvis or Hitler. With astonishment she answered: 'Well, Elvis of course! What an extraordinary question.'

Being the youngest Mitford, Deborah outlived the others and indeed her husband the duke, becoming Dowager Duchess of Devonshire in 2004, having been appointed a Dame Commander of the Royal Victorian Order (DCVO) by Queen Elizabeth II for her service to the Royal Collection Trust.

She died aged 94 in 2014, survived by three of seven children, eight grandchildren (including fashion model Stella Tennant, whose Vogue Chatsworth shoot Deborah writes of in this book) and eighteen great-grandchildren. Her funeral at St Peter's Church, Edensor, was attended by family, friends, six hundred staff, the (then) Prince of Wales and Duchess of Cornwall.  

Her anecdotes and ponderings in this slim volume are a heartwarming treat, written as if she's perched on the end of your bed, an old, old Dowager Duchess, telling you a few wise tales. 'When you are very old,' she once said, 'you accept what has happened. You cry over some things, but not a lot. It's too distant.'

Pure pleasure.

Monday, 2 September 2024

Showcase: Spark, from Tale Publishing, Melbourne - Launched

Showcase: Spark

Includes my latest work:

Little Spark of Oz/Prelude to a Voyage

Delighted to be part of this exciting new collection, Showcase: Spark, from Tale Publishing, Melbourne. 

An anthology of Australian writers with a difference - each writer is given ten thousand words to showcase their talent and may do so in one, two or three pieces of writing.

Eight authors show their talent, and imaginative interpretation of the theme: Spark.

With stories ranging from reflective to action packed, and from adventure to speculative this anthology has something for everyone and may just introduce you to your new favourite author.

Click and buy eBook or paperback at select platforms globally, e.g.

https://www.amazon.com.au/Showcase-Spark-C.../dp/0648038610