3.88 AVERAGE

reflective sad tense slow-paced


First thing’s first, I do have to say I think The King’s Curse is better than The Kingmaker’s Daughter and The White Princess. The Kingmaker’s Daughter had what was, for me, a really grating first person voice and I simply could not care for what happened to Anne Neville and her obviously skewed world view. With The White Princess it was simply a case of boredom. The character of Elizabeth of York in that novel was dull and uninteresting, and I grew weary of her constant recycled conversations with Henry VII about whether she knew of any “York boys”. As for the rest? Well...

Repetition

Let's start with a Gregory staple. Old habits die hard. Remember Elizabeth of The Virgin’s Lover tearing at her cuticles, Mary of The Other Queen saying she was three times a queen, Hannah Green of The Queen’s Fool wiping imagined smuts from her face? How about Catalina of The Constant Princess and her gardens, Katherine Howard of The Boleyn Inheritance counting her things, Margaret Beaufort of The Red Queen and her anachronistic obsession with Joan of Arc, and not forgetting Elizabeth Woodville and Jacquetta St Pol of The White Queen and The Lady of the Rivers and their fixation on the Melusine myth? Well, if you don't because you haven't read them, you get the idea from the above lengthy list. The most obvious repetition in the book is the king's curse. Well, that is the title of the book, so you’d expect it to be a running theme. I don’t even mind the bit at the beginning where it’s explained once again what the supposed curse is, for those readers who haven’t read Gregory’s previous novels. However, the frequency with which talk of the curse is repeated throughout the novel is just too much. It’s even repeated in the last 10% of the book, as if readers need to be reminded this late on into the story that the whole book is about the king’s curse. The curse is really a detriment to the story; the whole thing feels like it is being told with way too much hindsight. Gregory has only invented the curse because she knows what happened later. But real life people don’t, and the prophecies come off as glaringly groan-worthy, not clever.

Another continuous repetition is the Mouldwarp. Gregory creates a folk myth of the Mouldwarp as the king transforms into some sort of terrible supernatural creature to explain his increasing tyranny. Again this is repeated far too frequently. Yes, we get the idea; the king’s terrible transformation into tyrant is like he’s become some sort of nightmarish creature; this idea doesn’t need to be repeated over and over again. The odd thing about this one is that, as lovers of the Little Grey Rabbit series will know, mouldwarp is just an Early English appellation for a mole. Another repetition is the explanation that the Plantagenet name comes from the Latin for the broom flower, planta genista. Of course, this is nothing new to those of us who love our Medieval Plantagenet novels. But it’s repeated over and over again in this book. Another repeated theme is the idea that Henry VII’s mercenary army brought the Sweating Sickness to England, but more on that later. It’s almost as if in the course of her research for this book Gregory came across the fact about the Plantagenet name and this Early English word, mouldwarp, and was so taken with what was new information to her that she simply had to work them into her latest novel. Repeatedly. As often as possible.

As You Know Bob, aka Telling Not Showing

The issues with names and titles could also come under unnecessary repetition. Characters who’ve known each other for years, even close family members, refer to each other by either title or full name, or state their family relationship, e.g.; “Son Montague”, “Gertrude, my cousin Henry Courtenay’s wife”. You don’t need me to tell you that this feels incredibly forced and unnatural. But in fact this is the case in all of Philippa Gregory’s Tudor and Cousins’ War novels. So why does she write it that way? It’s an As You Know Bob – where characters explain to each other what they both already know, not for the characters but for the reader, to let the reader in on what is going on and who is who. As You Know Bobs are classic examples of telling over showing – instead of showing the reader the information through action or in an appropriate and subtle manner, the author flat out tells the reader through this awkward contrivance of unnecessary character dialogue for the benefit of the reader. It’s usually considered poor writing. An As You Know Bob may be necessary at the beginning of a book, to introduce the characters, for example, however, what’s particularly noteworthy about Gregory’s practise of using full names, titles, and family relationships is that she continues to do it throughout the book, even when there’s less than 50 pages left (in a book that’s a little more or less than 600 pages depending on the copy you’ve got). Why does she still need to do this when the characters have been introduced long ago? Because the author thinks her readers won’t remember or won’t know what’s going on unless it is explicitly spelled out for them. Let me offer some succinct advice: readers are intelligent. They don’t need handholding. If you absolutely must offer some sort of guidance, include a dramatis personae in your book so people can refer back to it. Don’t write down to your readers. It's a cardinal sin of writing.

21st Century Voice

The 21st century voice was another big no-no. This ties in to the As You Know Bob point. The characters in The King’s Curse often combine As You Know Bob dialogue with a very modern, 21st century voice. For example, when Margaret Pole asks her husband why she should not grieve the execution of her brother: ‘Why should I not grieve?’ ‘Because they won’t like it.’ Richard Pole’s response to his wife is phrased in such an overtly modern way that it’s distracting. He doesn’t say "Because it wouldn’t be prudent" or "You know full well why" or "Do you mean to incur the wrath of the king?" All of which would’ve been far more in tone with the novel’s Tudor setting. It’s all about who likes and dislikes whom and what, a regular feature in Gregory’s novels where complex historical events and social webs are usually reduced down to who’s friends with whom. That particular example is also an As You Know Bob because Margaret, the niece of two kings and brought up in the world of the court where knowledge of etiquette and political manoeuvring was vital to survival and getting ahead, ought to have known full well why it might be a bad idea to openly mourn someone executed as a traitor – brother or no. Whilst a novel full of “prithees” and “forsooths” would be equally as inappropriate and silly sounding, a novel peppered with not just modern slang – which would be glaringly obvious – but certain modern turns of phrase, is just as out of place in a historical setting. A good historical fiction author has to find the correct balance between the two extremes. Margaret even describes court ladies as “trés chic” (the word chic dates to the mid-19th century, a good 300 years later). Henry VIII says “or something”. One nonsensical sentence even says; “I have a bad taste in my mouth every day on waking and I think it is the odour of cowardice.

Key Events Occur "Off-Screen"

Perhaps the worst writing faux pas that Gregory makes is her overuse of summaries – and once again this is not a new feature to her books. One year is summarised in a mere four sentences. If it’s that inconsequential, just have your characters mention anything of note when you come back to them – don’t write a separate heading for that year, give it four sentences and then that’s it. The bad thing about this is that key events are summarised in direct narrative from the first person narration, instead of being allowed to play out “live” in front of the readers’ and characters’ eyes. It’s the literary equivalent of something that happens “off-screen”. We don’t actually get to see it, we’re just told about it by some omniscient narrator. This is okay occasionally, but you don’t want to miss the key events of the story, do you? It’s like watching an action movie, getting to see the characters plan out their big move, reaching the climax of the movie… and then a voice-over narration tells you what happened. The Battle of Flodden is summarised with simply; “Their battle plan is astoundingly successful”. This is how the main character’s sons invading France is handled: “We may be exiled from court but the king still calls on us when he wants outstanding military leaders. Both my boys, Montague and Arthur, are summoned to serve as the king invades France. Montague is appointed captain and Arthur fights so bravely at the forefront on the field of battle that he is knighted and is now Sir Arthur Pole. I think how proud his father would have been, I think how pleased the king’s mother would have been, and I am glad that my son has served hers.” That’s it. That’s all it gets. Four sentences. But the main character wasn’t actually there to witness these events, you cry! True – which is why, incidentally, third person is often a much better choice than first person in historical fiction, but that’s another matter. However, we could at least “live” the events with our first person narrator. We could wait with her as she receives news of the battles, tension palpable, as word or letter tells her that her sons are safe, share in her joy and celebration that they have distinguished themselves. Summarising what should be key events in the story or primary concerns for your main character only rip the heart out of your story, sapping it of tension, excitement, and ultimately soul.

Historical Inaccuracies

Some instances of historical inaccuracy in this book were just plain odd. Gregory changes the birth order and years of Margaret Pole’s five children, for example. This is a fairly basic fact to get right for your main character in a historical novel, and can be easily discovered in two clicks online. Perhaps Gregory deliberately changed this, but in her Author’s Note she makes no mention of it, let alone why she would have changed it. At one point we are told that Thomas Cromwell “allowed George Boleyn himself to tell the court out loud that the king was incapable of fathering a child”; when in fact the reverse is true; at his trial George Boleyn was handed a note which he was specifically told not to read out loud – though defiant George did so anyway. The old chestnut about Jane Boleyn being a bitter shrew who gives evidence against her husband and sister-in-law is trotted out yet again despite no sources ever naming her and in actual fact all the evidence suggesting that Jane never betrayed her husband or his family. There's no evidence that she did. The idea that the Sweating Sickness came to Tudor England with Henry VII’s mercenaries at the Battle of Bosworth is repeated ad nauseam. It most likely didn't. Gregory maintains her Margaret Beaufort Killed The Princes In The Tower theory. In fact Margaret, or her son Henry VII, are unlikely suspects. Anne Boleyn is accused of being a Lutheran. She wasn't. George Boleyn is described as being "quite useless". Far from it. And the old Anne Boleyn Tried To Murder Bishop Fisher nonsense from The Other Boleyn Girl. She didn't. Not forgetting, of course, "Sir Thomas and his wife Elizabeth, daughter of the old Duke of Norfolk – see their pretty daughter in a new light, as a step to wealth and position, and like a pair of cheerful bawds wash her and dress her and bejewel her and present her to the king as if she were a fat little pigeon ready for the pie". In the words of the late Irene Rheinwald, scholar of the Tudor era and the Boleyns in particular; "horrifying thought. Boleyns always MARRIED well".

Regarding historical accuracy; take for example the changing of the children's ages. It's a small point and doesn't have that great an impact on the story. It would be nice if PG explained why she changed it, but it's forgivable. One of my favourite historical novels changed the age of one of its characters so he would be closer in age to his brother, whereas historically they were ten years apart in age - and the author acknowledged it and made it work so well in the story that I almost couldn't imagine it any other way now. So, to clarify - it's not that I'm some stuffy old stickler for complete accuracy. I can overlook small changes, or big changes if they work well within the story and are acknowledged. What's jarring is big changes that are not explained and do not work well - things that would be so out of character for the real historical figure that they're just unbelievable, or changes that are silly or implausible, or worse a disservice to the real person. Because then it affects my suspension of disbelief and I can't get on board with it. Changing historical facts in a historical novel is another balance thing. It's about how far you can push it, how you can integrate it seamlessly, how you can use it to improve the story, without getting people and events so far removed from themselves that they're unrecognisable, maintaining a level of staying true to the people and the history. The allure of historical fiction is the spice that it's a true story. What's the point of a historical setting if you're going to change it to the point of not staying true to the people and history? You might as well set it in a completely imaginary, fantasy world.

Bias and Lack of Understanding

What’s particularly glaring is the double standard throughout. “All this – all this! – to legitimise their claim to a throne which in any case they took by conquest”; Edward IV of the House of York won the throne by conquest. So did the co-monarchs William III and Mary II. So did Henry IV. So did William the Conqueror. Generally speaking, before the days of constitutional monarchy, that’s what it was all about – being strong enough to hold on to the throne or strong enough to take it. It was at least as valid as blind hereditary right, where you could end up with a beloved saint or a mad tyrant on pure luck. “The Tudors shore up their royalty with the trappings of wealth as if they hope that playing the part will make it real” when in fact it was normal practise for royalty of the time to proactively display their wealth – it was something the York royals did rather ostentatiously, and Edward II was ridiculed for having common hobbies and not behaving more kingly. “All the Tudors are a fearful family” when in fact a monarch’s watchfulness and ability to circumvent or crush problems in the bud were a sign of success in Medieval and Renaissance Europe – and Elizabeth I made a famous speech about placing her safety in the hands of her people. "Henry Tudor is newly royal and has always had his battles fought for him." Henry VII's early life was far from easy in actuality, forced to flee into exile for his life at the age of 14 and spending the next 14 years impoverished and abroad, risking everything on engaging Richard III in one decisive battle at Bosworth Field where his opponent outnumbered his forces 2:1. One gets the impression that Gregory has no real understanding of the social mores and cultural values of the times she’s writing about at all.

And what the main character tells us, throughout, is that when the House of York does something, it's good, but when the Tudors or Boleyns do it, it's bad. When Elizabeth Woodville and Edward IV marry in secret, it’s okay, but when Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII marry in secret, it’s bad. When Katherine of Aragon can’t give the king a son, it’s just bad luck, or the curse, but when Anne Boleyn can’t do it it’s proof of God withholding blessing. The Yorks have it all – the “York good looks”, the “York charm”, the “honest York gaze”. This black-and-white stereotyping creates shallow, clichéd characters and does a disservice to the real people of history. And this is far from the first time Gregory has dealt with her characters by dividing them up into passive saints and ambitious no-good graspers, The Other Boleyn Girl being notable for it. Worst of all is the outright slut-shaming of Anne Boleyn that goes on in this book. Anne is repeatedly called a “slut” throughout the course of the book ("Norfolk-born slut"; "troublesome slut"), despite the irony that the key difference between Anne and the king’s other amours was that she flat out refused to become sexually involved with him. And Philippa Gregory calls herself a feminist author?! I don’t think so. In the words of Emily Bazelon, slut-shaming is “retrograde, the opposite of feminist. Calling a girl a slut warns her that there's a line: she can be sexual but not too sexual.

Concluding Thoughts

Going into this review I honestly thought I would be giving it two stars. After all, I didn't become so bored with it that I abandoned it, like The White Princess, and the narrator wasn't irritatingly whiny like The Kingmaker's Daughter, so it seemed like it deserved a higher rating than those books. But totting up the litany of issues with The King's Curse has changed my mind. Technical errors, tedious repetition, simplistic style, anachronistic voice - this is poor writing indeed - but they pale in comparison to the book's major problems; seriously questionable accuracy, talking down to readers, taking all the heart and soul out of the story by the author's inability to bring key events to life and habitual summarising, and the sheer lack of understanding on the part of the author about the era she's writing about.

1 out of 10
adventurous challenging reflective tense medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: A mix
Strong character development: Yes
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

This is the 6th book in the Cousin's War series by Philippa Gregory and one of my favorites. Gregory really brings history to life. Loved seeing Henry VIII through Margaret Pole's eyes.
emotional informative sad medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: A mix
Strong character development: Complicated
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

This book was both educational from a historical standpoint yet sad. The life of Margaret Pole seemed so heartbreaking once The Tudors ascended the throne. To lose her brother, then a son and lots of her kinsmen under two different Tudor Kings.

Yet she was a remarkable woman to have endured all that, to have lost her families fortune, to gain it back she never wavered in her faith or her loyalty to Princess Mary. Even as she was put to death by Henry VIII. 
challenging informative sad medium-paced
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penguinspam's review

4.0
informative tense medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: Plot
Strong character development: No
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: No
adventurous challenging emotional informative sad tense medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: A mix
Strong character development: Complicated
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes
dark informative sad tense medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven: A mix
Strong character development: Complicated
Loveable characters: Complicated
Diverse cast of characters: No
Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

4.5 stars

A fitting conclusion to the Cousins' War series.
Philippa Gregory can count herself almost single-handed ly responsible for reviving a keen national interest in the Plantagenets and Tudors with these books and allowing us mere mortals to even halfway comprehend the family relationships and detailed history of this bloody and turbulent period in our history.

To summarise the story would be tricky as it's full of huge families of names and events. But if you remember the brother (one of the Three Sons of York) who decided to be drowned in a vat of alcohol (George), then you'll be off to a good start. Margaret is his daughter, and our narrator. She is perfectly placed to witness much of the next half century's political change. Forced into a marriage her fortunes fall and rise as Henry Tudor makes way for his son Henry VIII, after the death of first son Arthur.

It's fifty years of our history and 600 pages are filled with names, dates, treason, execution and manoeuvring. It's never dull. There are several very useful family trees and a (too short!) note at the end from the author.

Margaret's life is fascinating, I learned huge amounts (who knew how the Sweating Sickness came to England?!). Henry's reign is portrayed in detail you won't have studied in school. And characters you may have thought you liked I. History may not be so palatable now.

Two small negative points. Time doesn't seem to pass in the story in some ways: Margaret seems almost ageless until near the end, when at 62 you finally see she is getting old. Henry's injury that is meant to stink to high heaven in other historical sources is never mentioned.
And Mary (Princess, later to be Queen Mary Tudor) is over-sympathised by the author. As is forever 'poor Mary', and sheltered as 'only' 12, 'only' 16, 'only 17'. I found this strange as every other woman at that time would be considered an adult by this age and not so coddled and sheltered (especially as her father has denounced her royal birth). But small things in the grand scheme.

I really enjoyed this. I think of this series as much as an education as entertainment. I really also appreciated how Gregory chose to end the story and the series. Others haven't liked it but I thought it fit the tone and sense of what had one before. What a life. A period in history. A family.

Don't miss if you've read the others in the series. I hope the White Princess and this are made into TV series shortly, would make a great study set for students and the female characters would make wonderful roles.