Scan barcode
mauryneiberg18's review against another edition
3.0
The first 2/3 was very strong. The last 1/4 was much less compelling. I found myself having to go back to remember who did what to whom in the last 75-100 pages.
lisa_setepenre's review
1.0
I had really high hopes for this one.
Within the Fetterlock is Brian Wainwright’s retelling of the events leading to the deposition of Richard II and the unstable first half of Henry IV’s reign, centred around Constance of York who was married to Thomas le Despenser, Earl of Gloucester. Like Susan Higginbotham’s [b:The Traitor's Wife: A Novel of the Reign of Edward II|6047149|The Traitor's Wife A Novel of the Reign of Edward II|Susan Higginbotham|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1388720058s/6047149.jpg|6572228], Wainwright’s novel had a buttload of glowing reviews that hailed it as something special from people who are usually picky about their historical fiction, like Higginbotham’s novel, I made an effort to find a copy for myself (this is out of print, Higginbotham’s appeared to be when I ordered my copy), and like The Traitor’s Wife, it disappointed bitterly.
At first, I thought it was going to be great. The writing was solid and mature, I liked the glimpses I got of the characters in the first 30 pages or so. After reading some absolute clunkers of novels that demonised Richard II, I appreciated that Wainwright’s Richard was sympathetically rendered. I enjoyed that the book employed multiple POVs, rather than sticking to one, as that promised characterisations that wouldn’t reduce themselves to caricatures of villains and good guys.
But as I delved deeper, I found the characterisations were highly simplistic. The writing became clunky at times and the novel suffered from a lack of focus. This lack of focus is because the protagonist is Constance of York and she is on the periphery of major events. So the early chapters meandered quite a lot while we followed Constance around without seeing much of anything. I know the history well enough to see Wainwright was laying the groundwork for future events, but even so, it didn’t hold the interest and Constance’s sections also seemed aimless. There seemed to be a lot of talking about events and not a lot of doing in the first chunk. The opening chapter takes place while the royal court travels to witness John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford’s wedding, but we don’t see it. Sure, it’s not important to the plot in the long term, but it’s one of those niggling things that stands in greater contrast when the novel was aimlessly wandering through the years.
But for me, the greatest problem was the characters. Constance of York is an interesting figure, historically speaking. She’s in a prime position to witness events – the daughter of Edmund, Duke of York, married to Thomas le Despenser (who was involved in the failed Epiphany Rising that attempted to restore Richard II of the throne), the sister of Edward of York (who was the favourite of Richard II and also involved in the Epiphany Rising (and likely the one who betrayed it)). She was also physically involved in one of the plots against Henry, abducting the “rightful” heirs, Edmund and Roger Mortimer in an attempt to crown them.
Wainwright’s Constance, however, is one of those dime-a-dozen plucky heroines who are always right and never wrong, who maintain moral superiority throughout the novel despite of her dubious actions, who is not like the other girls, who is the only thoroughly decent character around, who has a perfect snarky comment for anything and everything, and who seems to do little else other than sit in judgement of everyone from her little bubble of superiority. Worse, she’s not even that decent. When confronted by a woman pregnant with her so-called husband’s child, Constance physically abuses her. It is a tough and heartbreaking situation to be in, sure, but regardless of the circumstance, anyone who is violent to a vulnerable pregnant woman is a piece of shit, worthy only of disgust.
(I am actually surprised that woman did not miscarry because Constance and Joanne of Navarre were really wailing on her.)
We’re also introduced early on to Philippa Mohun, the abused wife of Golafre, who is initially drawn quite sympathetically but never fear! Constance’s great charity (giving her one (1) gown when her husband refuses to buy her new clothes and the rest of her clothes are unwearable) does not belie her character judgement as she inwardly recoils at Philippa calling her “Connie”! Sure enough, when her abuser is dead and Philippa marries Constance’s brother, Edward, she’s revealed to be a heinous bitch who gives herself airs, abuses animals, is overly familiar with her new family (seems to me like another case of “woman who married above her station is scum” here, cf. the historical treatments of Katherine Swynford, Eleanor Cobham and Elizabeth Woodville), thinks herself above everyone else, and is as evil and ambitious as her husband. And sure, Philippa is horrible and we’re meant to hate her. But having Constance actually, physically say Philippa deserved her husband’s abuse (because Constance believes that she was sleeping with Edward during her preceding marriage) and that Philippa slept her way in power is not doing your heroine any favours, Wainwright.
Furthermore, Constance doesn’t really come across as moral in her hatred for Henry IV, more of a fanatic. She’s practically frothing at the mouth to let rip about him.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is our heroine. A fanatic who thinks abused women deserve it and is physically violent towards a pregnant woman. Thanks, I hate her.
So what about the other characters? Everyone is very simplistically drawn. I like my historical fiction to be complex. It’s no fun for me when characters are just cartoonishly bad or good. I hate how Wainwright whacks Henry IV repeatedly in the face with the villain stick and declares job done. I have to resist the urge to vomit at the implication that he’s been secretly in love with Constance the whole time. I hate how his behaviour is exaggerated – it’s implied he’s responsible for the neglect of children, is amassing wealth by defrauding the country (this isn’t even remotely plausible), and personally and savagely beats a friar. And then we get a scene so everyone knows he’s impotent. Yay.
I don’t even like Henry IV that much and I want to defend him from this hot mess of a “characterisation” job.
Edward of York is also beaten Wainwright’s villain stick. He’s sneaky and power-hungry but physically a coward (I feel that Wainwright would nod approvingly at the sentiment that Edward’s death at Agincourt was “better” than he deserved, even if it involved him drowning in mud as per one account). Edward finds it “vaguely risible” that he is called “brother” by Richard II – a gesture of affection and respect, surely, but one Edward for some reason sees as pathetic. He’s a womaniser who sleeps around – despite the fact that there no attested children, legitimate or otherwise, for him. He latches onto various plots to unseat Henry and gain power for himself, but is too cowardly to stick to his convictions. He’s involved in every plot against Henry IV – there is good reason to believe that he fought with Henry at the Battle of Shrewsbury in 1403 (a chronicler names the Duke of York and Earl of Rutland as present, Edward held both titles), but in Wainwright’s novel, he’s responsible for creating the wider plot against Henry IV and then just doesn’t turn up. The final pages of the book suggest that having gotten away with his many unsuccessful plots against the crown, he has set his sights on unseating Henry IV via his son, Hal (the future Henry V), and I would not be surprised if, in a (hopefully) hypothetical sequel, he goes onto be involved in the plots against Henry V before drowning in the mud at Agincourt because it’s what he “deserves” and it’s hilarious because Edward is fat (according to, if I recall correctly, Tudor propaganda).
I don’t think there are any other characters worthy of in-depth discussion. I did notice that most of the negative characters are described in ways that highlight their physical defects. Henry IV’s skin condition, his “squinting” eyes (Wainwright characterises him as losing his eyesight, though in at least one scene Wainwright forgets this) and often grunts his dialogue. Philippa’s gestures are very affected, her hands always “bejewelled”, her thigh “freckled” (freckles are caused by sun-exposure; why would a medieval noblewoman’s thigh be freckled?) and her mouth “ample”. The Duke of Orleans is described as ugly with “his long, ugly Valois noise, his cold deep set [sic] eyes, and his mean, cruel little mouth”. Hal (the future Henry V) has “an ugly nose” and eyes “that were striking, large and grey and unwavering, they reminded her [Constance] of someone long dead”. I’m surprised we didn’t get a lurid description of how ugly his scarred face was, but then his wounding at Shrewsbury is completely ignored. Edward’s weight is made a point once or twice.
On the opposite side of things, I was bewildered when Joanne of Navarre accused Henry of preferring someone “big and blonde” over herself and meant Constance because I had no idea what she was meant to look like – her height, build and hair colour.
In terms of historical accuracy, a lot of stuff is fine and down to interpretations. There is a historical note included where Wainwright admits to some of his creations (the adulterous affairs between Alianore Holland and Edward of York, Constance and Edmund Mortimer – the former illustrating how self-serving and ambitious that cad Edward is, the latter serving as inspiration for Constance’s rebellions in the final part of the novel, though Wainwright claims they serve to illustrate how interwoven the Mortimer and York families were). There are some scenes based on outdated information which were current during the writing of the novel – for example, Wainwright includes the now-debunked story that Henry and Mary de Bohun’s firstborn child was born when Mary was very young and didn’t live long; the evidence of this theory was misread and it actually refers to a child of Eleanor de Bohun and Thomas of Woodstock.
All in all, I am disappointed. This reads like a piece of Yorkist propaganda that bitterly resents everyone who didn’t die trying to overthrow Henry IV. Or at least, would have died had Henry IV not been secretly in love with Constance of York the whole time. Also for some reason, we’re meant to cheer on a character who beats up a pregnant woman.
Seriously, what the hell.
Within the Fetterlock is Brian Wainwright’s retelling of the events leading to the deposition of Richard II and the unstable first half of Henry IV’s reign, centred around Constance of York who was married to Thomas le Despenser, Earl of Gloucester. Like Susan Higginbotham’s [b:The Traitor's Wife: A Novel of the Reign of Edward II|6047149|The Traitor's Wife A Novel of the Reign of Edward II|Susan Higginbotham|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1388720058s/6047149.jpg|6572228], Wainwright’s novel had a buttload of glowing reviews that hailed it as something special from people who are usually picky about their historical fiction, like Higginbotham’s novel, I made an effort to find a copy for myself (this is out of print, Higginbotham’s appeared to be when I ordered my copy), and like The Traitor’s Wife, it disappointed bitterly.
At first, I thought it was going to be great. The writing was solid and mature, I liked the glimpses I got of the characters in the first 30 pages or so. After reading some absolute clunkers of novels that demonised Richard II, I appreciated that Wainwright’s Richard was sympathetically rendered. I enjoyed that the book employed multiple POVs, rather than sticking to one, as that promised characterisations that wouldn’t reduce themselves to caricatures of villains and good guys.
But as I delved deeper, I found the characterisations were highly simplistic. The writing became clunky at times and the novel suffered from a lack of focus. This lack of focus is because the protagonist is Constance of York and she is on the periphery of major events. So the early chapters meandered quite a lot while we followed Constance around without seeing much of anything. I know the history well enough to see Wainwright was laying the groundwork for future events, but even so, it didn’t hold the interest and Constance’s sections also seemed aimless. There seemed to be a lot of talking about events and not a lot of doing in the first chunk. The opening chapter takes place while the royal court travels to witness John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford’s wedding, but we don’t see it. Sure, it’s not important to the plot in the long term, but it’s one of those niggling things that stands in greater contrast when the novel was aimlessly wandering through the years.
But for me, the greatest problem was the characters. Constance of York is an interesting figure, historically speaking. She’s in a prime position to witness events – the daughter of Edmund, Duke of York, married to Thomas le Despenser (who was involved in the failed Epiphany Rising that attempted to restore Richard II of the throne), the sister of Edward of York (who was the favourite of Richard II and also involved in the Epiphany Rising (and likely the one who betrayed it)). She was also physically involved in one of the plots against Henry, abducting the “rightful” heirs, Edmund and Roger Mortimer in an attempt to crown them.
Wainwright’s Constance, however, is one of those dime-a-dozen plucky heroines who are always right and never wrong, who maintain moral superiority throughout the novel despite of her dubious actions, who is not like the other girls, who is the only thoroughly decent character around, who has a perfect snarky comment for anything and everything, and who seems to do little else other than sit in judgement of everyone from her little bubble of superiority. Worse, she’s not even that decent. When confronted by a woman pregnant with her so-called husband’s child, Constance physically abuses her. It is a tough and heartbreaking situation to be in, sure, but regardless of the circumstance, anyone who is violent to a vulnerable pregnant woman is a piece of shit, worthy only of disgust.
(I am actually surprised that woman did not miscarry because Constance and Joanne of Navarre were really wailing on her.)
We’re also introduced early on to Philippa Mohun, the abused wife of Golafre, who is initially drawn quite sympathetically but never fear! Constance’s great charity (giving her one (1) gown when her husband refuses to buy her new clothes and the rest of her clothes are unwearable) does not belie her character judgement as she inwardly recoils at Philippa calling her “Connie”! Sure enough, when her abuser is dead and Philippa marries Constance’s brother, Edward, she’s revealed to be a heinous bitch who gives herself airs, abuses animals, is overly familiar with her new family (seems to me like another case of “woman who married above her station is scum” here, cf. the historical treatments of Katherine Swynford, Eleanor Cobham and Elizabeth Woodville), thinks herself above everyone else, and is as evil and ambitious as her husband. And sure, Philippa is horrible and we’re meant to hate her. But having Constance actually, physically say Philippa deserved her husband’s abuse (because Constance believes that she was sleeping with Edward during her preceding marriage) and that Philippa slept her way in power is not doing your heroine any favours, Wainwright.
Furthermore, Constance doesn’t really come across as moral in her hatred for Henry IV, more of a fanatic. She’s practically frothing at the mouth to let rip about him.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is our heroine. A fanatic who thinks abused women deserve it and is physically violent towards a pregnant woman. Thanks, I hate her.
So what about the other characters? Everyone is very simplistically drawn. I like my historical fiction to be complex. It’s no fun for me when characters are just cartoonishly bad or good. I hate how Wainwright whacks Henry IV repeatedly in the face with the villain stick and declares job done. I have to resist the urge to vomit at the implication that he’s been secretly in love with Constance the whole time. I hate how his behaviour is exaggerated – it’s implied he’s responsible for the neglect of children, is amassing wealth by defrauding the country (this isn’t even remotely plausible), and personally and savagely beats a friar. And then we get a scene so everyone knows he’s impotent. Yay.
I don’t even like Henry IV that much and I want to defend him from this hot mess of a “characterisation” job.
Edward of York is also beaten Wainwright’s villain stick. He’s sneaky and power-hungry but physically a coward (I feel that Wainwright would nod approvingly at the sentiment that Edward’s death at Agincourt was “better” than he deserved, even if it involved him drowning in mud as per one account). Edward finds it “vaguely risible” that he is called “brother” by Richard II – a gesture of affection and respect, surely, but one Edward for some reason sees as pathetic. He’s a womaniser who sleeps around – despite the fact that there no attested children, legitimate or otherwise, for him. He latches onto various plots to unseat Henry and gain power for himself, but is too cowardly to stick to his convictions. He’s involved in every plot against Henry IV – there is good reason to believe that he fought with Henry at the Battle of Shrewsbury in 1403 (a chronicler names the Duke of York and Earl of Rutland as present, Edward held both titles), but in Wainwright’s novel, he’s responsible for creating the wider plot against Henry IV and then just doesn’t turn up. The final pages of the book suggest that having gotten away with his many unsuccessful plots against the crown, he has set his sights on unseating Henry IV via his son, Hal (the future Henry V), and I would not be surprised if, in a (hopefully) hypothetical sequel, he goes onto be involved in the plots against Henry V before drowning in the mud at Agincourt because it’s what he “deserves” and it’s hilarious because Edward is fat (according to, if I recall correctly, Tudor propaganda).
I don’t think there are any other characters worthy of in-depth discussion. I did notice that most of the negative characters are described in ways that highlight their physical defects. Henry IV’s skin condition, his “squinting” eyes (Wainwright characterises him as losing his eyesight, though in at least one scene Wainwright forgets this) and often grunts his dialogue. Philippa’s gestures are very affected, her hands always “bejewelled”, her thigh “freckled” (freckles are caused by sun-exposure; why would a medieval noblewoman’s thigh be freckled?) and her mouth “ample”. The Duke of Orleans is described as ugly with “his long, ugly Valois noise, his cold deep set [sic] eyes, and his mean, cruel little mouth”. Hal (the future Henry V) has “an ugly nose” and eyes “that were striking, large and grey and unwavering, they reminded her [Constance] of someone long dead”. I’m surprised we didn’t get a lurid description of how ugly his scarred face was, but then his wounding at Shrewsbury is completely ignored. Edward’s weight is made a point once or twice.
On the opposite side of things, I was bewildered when Joanne of Navarre accused Henry of preferring someone “big and blonde” over herself and meant Constance because I had no idea what she was meant to look like – her height, build and hair colour.
In terms of historical accuracy, a lot of stuff is fine and down to interpretations. There is a historical note included where Wainwright admits to some of his creations (the adulterous affairs between Alianore Holland and Edward of York, Constance and Edmund Mortimer – the former illustrating how self-serving and ambitious that cad Edward is, the latter serving as inspiration for Constance’s rebellions in the final part of the novel, though Wainwright claims they serve to illustrate how interwoven the Mortimer and York families were). There are some scenes based on outdated information which were current during the writing of the novel – for example, Wainwright includes the now-debunked story that Henry and Mary de Bohun’s firstborn child was born when Mary was very young and didn’t live long; the evidence of this theory was misread and it actually refers to a child of Eleanor de Bohun and Thomas of Woodstock.
All in all, I am disappointed. This reads like a piece of Yorkist propaganda that bitterly resents everyone who didn’t die trying to overthrow Henry IV. Or at least, would have died had Henry IV not been secretly in love with Constance of York the whole time. Also for some reason, we’re meant to cheer on a character who beats up a pregnant woman.
Seriously, what the hell.
honeybeef8844's review
4.0
I really enjoyed this book. It did a much better job than most of showing things from different points of view. The main character Constance is very easy to root for, and I understood her motivations. But then the point of view changed to someone else who was having difficulties with her, and I understood their perspective too. The characters came to life.
I do wish that the author had given time information. The book often jumped forward in time, and I would have liked to know exactly when I was. I was often not clear on major things like how many years since a really major event.
My other and more minor gripe is that the ending was a bit of a strange way to tie it up to me. The author hadn't done enough to support the feelings of the final perspective that were supposed to make for a poignant ending, but this is minor.
There was a little bit of language and sexual content that I whited out, but there were no lengthy sex scenes as in much historical fiction.
I do wish that the author had given time information. The book often jumped forward in time, and I would have liked to know exactly when I was. I was often not clear on major things like how many years since a really major event.
My other and more minor gripe is that the ending was a bit of a strange way to tie it up to me. The author hadn't done enough to support the feelings of the final perspective that were supposed to make for a poignant ending, but this is minor.
There was a little bit of language and sexual content that I whited out, but there were no lengthy sex scenes as in much historical fiction.
More...