We all love Richard, but sometimes we can love too much. A Historical Novel Review.

The Murders of Richard III
by Elizabeth Peters

Cover: Blah, what is that?!? That has absolutely nothing to do with anything in the story! A drama mask?!? So generic and ridiculous; I’m cutting myself off from complaining any further. Except I will add that when I was reading this on the bus across campus the other day, I’m sure I looked like quite the murder mystery fan.

Summary: Jacqueline, an American librarian with a dry sense of humor and a mysteriously large purse, entrances her British colleague enough for him to invite her for a special getaway while she is working in England. Thomas is a member of a pro-Richard III society that is having a gathering at an old manor house, and he wants Jacqueline to accompany him, although with an ulterior motive: he thinks her dabbling in old manuscripts might help them authenticate a Plantagenet age letter. The letter may or may not be the legendary missive from Elizabeth of York to her uncle Richard, believed lost to time, that might help prove Richard’s innocence in the deaths of the York princes. It supposedly details Elizabeth’s desire to marry Richard, which would be incongruous if he had already murdered her brothers and was trying to force himself upon her.

So the two arrive at the society meeting, which Jacqueline finds begins to resemble an English manor house party more than any sort of professional outing as the hours pass. The host believes he is an illegitimate descendant of Richard, is named Richard, and collects all sorts of Ricardian paraphernalia. In addition to dressing up as Richard. In fact, all the guests are dressed in medieval costume and have taken up the roles of the principal characters of the Wars of the Roses, no matter if they resemble the famous figures at all.

The party becomes even stranger as Jacqueline realizes that all the society members discuss and rehash the Wars of the Roses as though they had happened weeks ago, rather than centuries. They all seem entirely too invested in proclaiming Richard’s innocence. And on the first night, one guest has already taken the debate too far, and endangered a life. Jacqueline is almost pleased to find herself in the middle of a real, old fashioned English house party, and jumps right into solving the mystery, even if it means death could be on the line.

My Review: I will never not love an Elizabeth Peters novel (she writes the Amelia Peabody Egyptology mystery series, and if you haven’t read those yet, DO. IT.) so I may be am most definitely biased. But, it bears stating: I loved this book and devoured it in two sittings.

Despite my own summary right up there, the book is actually told (sort of) from Thomas’s point of view. Jacqueline, however, provides most of the outsider (or “our” viewpoint) commentary on all the events, so that is why she would probably be the main character. Of course, she is also the one to solve the mystery in the end, in a grandiose, old style, Sherlock Holmes type of explanatory monologue. The difference between this kind of ending and the mustache-twirling, villainous-explanation that I don’t really like lies in the author’s style; Peters is just ridiculously charming and witty. She is one of the few writers with whom I laugh out loud while reading.

I came to the wrong conclusions, of course, before the mystery was finally revealed, so I can also chalk that up to a decent read, and the “murderer” was fairly believable. I kind of wished that the mystery had had more to do with solving a Ricardian mystery, as well, but Peters deals with that in a tongue-in-cheek manner in the final pages, so I came away happy with the ending.

There is plenty of Ricardian historical chatter throughout the book, anyway, and it easily added a bit on to what I read in The Daughter of Time. This book has a great commentary on the nature of possession, and how the subject of our passions kind of possesses us, no matter if it’s a passion based 500 years in the past. Even sarcastic, smooth-talking American Jacqueline can’t avoid getting caught up in Ricardian drama. Even though this is an easy-to-read and entertaining mystery novel, there was plenty of character development and lingering moments to get caught up in.

Some notes I took while reading:

• In the first pages, Jacqueline off-handedly judges all the royal figures in the National Portrait Gallery on a scale of sexiness. This is awesome.

• Thomas discovers Jacqueline has actually heard the theory about Richard’s innocence before… when she read The Daughter of Time. Later on, Thomas brushes up on his pro-Richard debate skills be rereading Paul Kendall’s Richard the Third, which is the history book I picked up the other day. Well, I’m glad I’m in good company!

• It is 1970s England, so there are a few elements that today could not figure in to this mystery. No one has cell phones, which would have solved the missing persons problem, carbon-dating techniques are briefly mentioned but today would be much more sophisticated, not knowing what someone looks like and yet not being able to look him up on Facebook, and the women’s pantsuits sound really weird. But it allows Thomas to keep holding old Social Class Issues, which are very funny.

• Jacqueline is more amused than horrified by the dress-up activities of the society. I imagine I would react the same way, so this had me grinning throughout, as well.

• There is a “boy” named Percy, who speaks to all the adults as though he is on the same level as them within the society, and takes on the role of one of the York princes, but I could never figure out how old he is. Especially since he is supposed to be enormous and fat. Whatever.

• On P. 125 of my paperback: “Thomas found himself trying to decide which nation could claim the least-attractive tourists.” Ha! Love it.

• When something goes wrong, all the members of the society automatically jump to the conclusion that an anti-Ricardian has penetrated their midst. Not, you know, that maybe someone is just trying to break into their house and steal things. This seems sooo fitting for so many “societies” today that I was highly amused.

Also, I finally figured out how to adjust the size of the pictures I post, so... yeah... I don't know why I didn't do it before.
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Law & Order: 12th Century... A Historical Novel Review

The Serpent's Tale
By Ariana Franklin

Cover: This particular cover is pretty photoshoppy. A painting laid over a painting with an embossed title on top of that. Also, the coloring is dark and pretty unattractive. But then, covers are never the most important aspect of a book, anyway.

Summary: Adelia Aguilar, an Italian in xenophobic 12th century England, is King Henry II’s “Mistress of the Art of Death.” In other words, she is an early forensics investigator. Using methods gleaned from studying under a medieval physician and her own experiences, Adelia can figure out when and how the king’s subjects meet their untimely deaths.

In this latest mystery, Adelia is commanded to uncover the true story behind the attempted murder of the king’s mistress, Rosamund, in her tower at Wormhold. Accompanied by a eunuch assistant, Mansur, her dog Ward, her maid Welsh maid Gyltha, and her young child Allie, she sets off for Woodstock.

They are led by Bishop Rowley, who before he became a man of the cloth fathered Allie, and who believes they will arrive only to find Rosamund dead. He’s right. Surrounded by a nearly-impenetrable labyrinth (the “serpent” of the title) and frozen in a high tower, the king’s mistress is dead, but she still holds a secret. Rumors of war, carried over from the civil war between Stephen and Maud, have begun to surface again, this time between King Henry and his queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine. Eleanor is interested in Rosamund’s possessions, and may have had an interest in Rosamund’s death. Adelia can ascertain that Rosamund was poisoned, but as to whom is the culprit, there is an entire village nearby full of suspects.

In fact, some of the villagers themselves are falling prey to a killer who may or may not be related to Rosamund’s murder. Amidst royal intrigue, scientific inquiry, and state politics, Adelia must further fear for her own safety, and for that of her child. Someone seems to be aware that Adelia is on the case, and that she may know more about murderers than the average 12th century Englishwoman…

My Review: I absolutely adored the beginning of this novel and could not put it down for the first 150 or so pages. Franklin is entirely convincing in describing the mythical tower of Wormhold and suggests a dark, Gothic twist on the relationship between Rosamund and Henry. I read Alison Weir’s Eleanor of Aquitaine not that long ago, however, so I am entirely disillusioned when it comes to the romance of Rosamund.

Weir disputes pretty thoroughly the existence of any sort of castle near Oxford where Henry could have kept his mistress. In fact, consulting the book now, she says “Rosamund’s death would in time give rise to many legends, none of which have any truth in them” (1). By her account, even by the 14th century there were tales of Eleanor poisoning Rosamund, burning her alive, and other dastardly sordid acts. Eleanor was, of course, already imprisoned at this time and so could not have poisoned Rosamund herself, not to mention that there is no evidence of any labyrinth that could have stood for the infamous one that protected Rosamund.

So, what can I say; I’m a bit jaded toward the subject matter already. But who doesn’t love a little alternate history? I still plowed through the first half of the book fairly quickly, and it was only when I got to Rowley’s disappearance from the novel and a sudden downturn in the action that I could put the book down.

Franklin does a fair job of rendering interesting dialogue that matches the social status of the individual characters. There is a fine line between conveying a low class accent and writing a parodied, incomprehensible dialogue, and Franklin toes it with ease.

Franklin also approaches these historical figures out of legend from multiple angles, which should appeal to a wide audience. Sometimes Henry is immature and almost comical in his ego trips, and sometimes Eleanor seems shrewish and petty (read her scene in Wormhold to see this unpredictable turn of character), but ultimately I think fans will be satisfied with the turn that Franklin gives them. However, you definitely have to read to the very last page to get that satisfaction…

Adelia, our heroine, provides an almost-21st century perspective, probably so that the audience can more easily connect with the medieval mindset. She is comfortable and confident being an outsider in a hostile land, being an unwed mother in a strictly religious society, and various other anachronisms. I understand that Franklin wants to reach a wider audience than only the history snob geek squad, but I think I found it harder vacillating between Adelia’s more “welcome” perspective and the antiquated medieval mindset. It’s hard to sympathize with the medieval characters when you keep getting thrust back into a modern mindset because that happens to be your “eyes and ears.”

Of course, another viewpoint is that the Middle Ages were, in fact, early modernism, and so it might not be entirely impossible that a woman like Adelia could have the opinions and drive that she does. No two people are exactly alike, and anyway I’ve mentioned before how even the most famous historical figures never followed all the rules of their society. So, I hope to hear from more people what they thought about the more “anachronistic” aspects of this novel!

Franklin’s plotting is well-paced, except for that mid-novel break that made it too easy for me to put down, and her resolution is satisfying and believable. There is no deus ex machina here, which was refreshing, and the characterization and ending left me wanting to read the next book in the series.

The side characters are funny and interesting and show immense care on the author’s part to develop a world and mythology for her heroine to live in for a longer series. In fact, Henry and Eleanor are almost “side” characters in this series, although you’re still interested to read more about their exploits. Overall, I was entertained and intrigued by The Serpent’s Tale, and I look forward to reading the next book in the series, Grave Goods, particularly since it involves Arthurian legend.

Some notes I took while reading:

• While Adelia’s “unmarried mother” status is questionable, the men’s reaction to it as she moves from location to location is hilarious.
• On p. 34 of my paperback: “Rosamund Clifford?” “That Rosamund.” As if they could be unsure which Rosamund de Clifford the king’s priest had been talking about.
• Be aware: there is some serious, rampant feminism afoot in this book. Although, the way they’re treated throughout, it’s impossible not to sympathize.
• Also, there are quite a few graphic descriptions of corpses, murders, fetid medieval folk, and other dastardly sordid acts. It’s not for the weak of stomach, but it's probably pretty educational.
• There is a villainous confession toward the end where I half-expected the culprit to twirl a mustache or add "And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for those meddling kids and their dog." I mean, there are other ways to end a mystery novel. I'll have to read some more of this author's books to see if there is a pattern.
  

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1. Weir, Alison. Eleanor of Aquitaine: A Life. New York: Random House. 1999.