Philippa Gregory: The White Queen (and a few notes on The Red Queen)
I was going to post these two books in one, as they have both similarities and interesting contrasts in the ways they fail for me. However, my rant became so long that I split them off. I mention some things that annoy me about both books now, but the particulars of "The Red Queen" will follow later.
I've been interested for quite some time in English history. However, I freely admit that my actual knowledge stems mostly from historical fiction and Shakespeare dramas, so so I don't have the necessary qualification to judge whether the way Philippa Gregory handles what are likely the most debatable historical questions for this time period - What happened to the Princes in the Tower? And was Richard III a much-maligned good king or a villain? - makes sense. Rather, what really annoyed me was the characterisation of the heroines in each book - Elizabeth Woodville, the White Queen, and Margaret Beaufort, the Red Queen.
Now, it is natural that historical novels have to fill in large gaps in what the historical documents tell us to achieve both fully-fledged characters and a narrative that goes beyond listing those dates we can know about. But the way in which the author fills some of these gaps really isn't ideal. Before I talk about the particulars in both novels, there are some things that annoy me in both:
- Facts about the political situation are repeated again and again. Yes, many readers won't know anything much about the figures involved, and it doesn't help that there are somewhat complex family trees involved and lots of people tend to have the same first names. But still, at some point it's sunk in with me that if Character A dies, Character B will be his heir, unless Character C, who thinks he has some claim as well, does something about it. If I'm told so constantly (and either through dialogue and letters between two persons, both of whom know the facts, or through the first-person narrator's inner monologue), I'm going to assume the author thinks I'm utterly stupid.
- Making (female) characters unaware of the world around them so they need to ask (often male) characters questions, so the reader gets the answer. This is particularly extreme with Margaret Beaufort in "The Red Queen". Yes, she's 12 in the beginning of the story, which is not an age at which you should marry a girl to an adult man, but I refuse to believe that a girl in her position would not know anything at all about the political situation she is directly involved in, her husband is involved in, and any child she bears will be extremely involved in. The people around her must surely have made sure she knew at least so much that she doesn't inadvertently says something terribly scandalous to the King or a Duke or some dinner guest, and that she knows who are her family's friends and opponents. Yes, she's 12, but 12-year-olds can hardly be that unaware of what's going on around them, especially if you marry them off at that age.
Now to characterisation. Elizabeth Woodville in "The White Queen" isn't that bad, there is just one annoyance: the whole supernatural element. Supposedly, she is descended from "Melusina, the water goddess", which is something she thinks about a lot. That would be a nice touch to her character, if not for the fact that the women in her family are supposed to have inherited magical powers from Melusina, and that the narrative strongly suggests that these powers exist beyond the imaginings of Elizabeth.
Both Elizabeth and her mother "see" things that happen afar. Conveniently, while sometimes appearing more as flashes and foreshadowings, this "seeing" occasionally allows Elizabeth and her mother to intentionally follow events far off, which to me mostly looks like a "clever" way of describing battle scenes from the first-person point of view of a character who cannot possibly be on the spot.
Also, both women together "whistle up a storm" in order to prevent their opponents from fleeing safely by ship. As "collateral damage", one opponent's wife, who is on the ship, miscarries her child.
Elizabeth places curses on two opponents and keeps a black locket with these curses around. And in a stroke of either genius or utter silliness, Philippa Gregory explains Richard III's supposed physical disability by Elizabeth having cursed his formerly strong and healthy sword arm to the point of physical failure.
What I find bizarrely amusing about this whole witchcraft element is how absolutely scandalised Elizabeth is when people start to talk about her and her mother as being witches, and when her mother is arrested under suspicion of witchcraft. Now, she suddenly states (not in dialogue, but in the narrative, where one would assume her to be at least somewhat consistent) that her mother does not actually know magic, but only has some old superstitions and pagan rites. Yet, for most of the story, Elizabeth is utterly convinced that both she and her mother have real powers, and she uses them in a way that you cannot explain other than as dark magic.
Even if Elizabeth believes that her use of her magical powers is justified, it is not logical for her to be surprised and appalled at people thinking her a witch. She is scandalised when it is suggested that she caught her husband, the king, by witchcraft, yet her mother has in fact used several love spells and charms on her before she set out to meet him. She's likewise scandalised about rumours about the situations in which she used harmful magic on her enemies. If Elizabeth believes her powers and curses are real, she can't claim being an innocent victim of persecution. If she doesn't believe they are real, a lot of the things she does do not make any sense whatsoever.
Just to make this clear: Medieval (and post-medieval, which at least here in Germany were more frequent) persecution of supposed "witches" was a terrible thing. But if you make a character an actual witch, you can't make her react to accusations of being one the way you would make a non-witch react.
Finally, the inclusion of the supernatural really weakens Elizabeth Woodville as a character for me. She is no longer an "ordinary" woman who managed to rise highly, causing her family both great success and great tragedy and influencing the history of her country, but rather an unrealistic figure, at least part of whom can neither be historically accurate nor relatable. I at least got the feeling that the real Elizabeth wasn't interesting or "special" enough for the author, so we were saddled with Melusina the water goddess. It's a pity, because in a sense it suggests that "real" historical women, already much ignored and maligned by traditional historical writing, need added interest to make them worth writing and reading about.
I've been interested for quite some time in English history. However, I freely admit that my actual knowledge stems mostly from historical fiction and Shakespeare dramas, so so I don't have the necessary qualification to judge whether the way Philippa Gregory handles what are likely the most debatable historical questions for this time period - What happened to the Princes in the Tower? And was Richard III a much-maligned good king or a villain? - makes sense. Rather, what really annoyed me was the characterisation of the heroines in each book - Elizabeth Woodville, the White Queen, and Margaret Beaufort, the Red Queen.
Now, it is natural that historical novels have to fill in large gaps in what the historical documents tell us to achieve both fully-fledged characters and a narrative that goes beyond listing those dates we can know about. But the way in which the author fills some of these gaps really isn't ideal. Before I talk about the particulars in both novels, there are some things that annoy me in both:
- Facts about the political situation are repeated again and again. Yes, many readers won't know anything much about the figures involved, and it doesn't help that there are somewhat complex family trees involved and lots of people tend to have the same first names. But still, at some point it's sunk in with me that if Character A dies, Character B will be his heir, unless Character C, who thinks he has some claim as well, does something about it. If I'm told so constantly (and either through dialogue and letters between two persons, both of whom know the facts, or through the first-person narrator's inner monologue), I'm going to assume the author thinks I'm utterly stupid.
- Making (female) characters unaware of the world around them so they need to ask (often male) characters questions, so the reader gets the answer. This is particularly extreme with Margaret Beaufort in "The Red Queen". Yes, she's 12 in the beginning of the story, which is not an age at which you should marry a girl to an adult man, but I refuse to believe that a girl in her position would not know anything at all about the political situation she is directly involved in, her husband is involved in, and any child she bears will be extremely involved in. The people around her must surely have made sure she knew at least so much that she doesn't inadvertently says something terribly scandalous to the King or a Duke or some dinner guest, and that she knows who are her family's friends and opponents. Yes, she's 12, but 12-year-olds can hardly be that unaware of what's going on around them, especially if you marry them off at that age.
Now to characterisation. Elizabeth Woodville in "The White Queen" isn't that bad, there is just one annoyance: the whole supernatural element. Supposedly, she is descended from "Melusina, the water goddess", which is something she thinks about a lot. That would be a nice touch to her character, if not for the fact that the women in her family are supposed to have inherited magical powers from Melusina, and that the narrative strongly suggests that these powers exist beyond the imaginings of Elizabeth.
Both Elizabeth and her mother "see" things that happen afar. Conveniently, while sometimes appearing more as flashes and foreshadowings, this "seeing" occasionally allows Elizabeth and her mother to intentionally follow events far off, which to me mostly looks like a "clever" way of describing battle scenes from the first-person point of view of a character who cannot possibly be on the spot.
Also, both women together "whistle up a storm" in order to prevent their opponents from fleeing safely by ship. As "collateral damage", one opponent's wife, who is on the ship, miscarries her child.
Elizabeth places curses on two opponents and keeps a black locket with these curses around. And in a stroke of either genius or utter silliness, Philippa Gregory explains Richard III's supposed physical disability by Elizabeth having cursed his formerly strong and healthy sword arm to the point of physical failure.
What I find bizarrely amusing about this whole witchcraft element is how absolutely scandalised Elizabeth is when people start to talk about her and her mother as being witches, and when her mother is arrested under suspicion of witchcraft. Now, she suddenly states (not in dialogue, but in the narrative, where one would assume her to be at least somewhat consistent) that her mother does not actually know magic, but only has some old superstitions and pagan rites. Yet, for most of the story, Elizabeth is utterly convinced that both she and her mother have real powers, and she uses them in a way that you cannot explain other than as dark magic.
Even if Elizabeth believes that her use of her magical powers is justified, it is not logical for her to be surprised and appalled at people thinking her a witch. She is scandalised when it is suggested that she caught her husband, the king, by witchcraft, yet her mother has in fact used several love spells and charms on her before she set out to meet him. She's likewise scandalised about rumours about the situations in which she used harmful magic on her enemies. If Elizabeth believes her powers and curses are real, she can't claim being an innocent victim of persecution. If she doesn't believe they are real, a lot of the things she does do not make any sense whatsoever.
Just to make this clear: Medieval (and post-medieval, which at least here in Germany were more frequent) persecution of supposed "witches" was a terrible thing. But if you make a character an actual witch, you can't make her react to accusations of being one the way you would make a non-witch react.
Finally, the inclusion of the supernatural really weakens Elizabeth Woodville as a character for me. She is no longer an "ordinary" woman who managed to rise highly, causing her family both great success and great tragedy and influencing the history of her country, but rather an unrealistic figure, at least part of whom can neither be historically accurate nor relatable. I at least got the feeling that the real Elizabeth wasn't interesting or "special" enough for the author, so we were saddled with Melusina the water goddess. It's a pity, because in a sense it suggests that "real" historical women, already much ignored and maligned by traditional historical writing, need added interest to make them worth writing and reading about.