Book Review – Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

“Wolf Hall”: A Riveting Dive into History

Wolf Hall, for those not in the know, is Hilary Mantel’s novel that kicked off a trilogy chronicling the life and times of Thomas Cromwell (the lawyer, not Oliver Cromwell – the puritan killjoy who cancelled Christmas, I made that mistake!), Henry VIII’s right-hand man and professional head-roller-offer. And yes, this isn’t your average history book that puts you to sleep faster than a Thanksgiving food coma. This one’s got all the drama, betrayal, and political intrigue you could shake a royal scepter at.

First things first: the prose. Sweet baby ribs in bbq sauce, the prose. Mantel’s writing is like a rich, multi-layered cake that you keep wanting to slice into, even though you know you’re going to end up with a sugar rush and a slightly sick feeling. It’s dense, folks. But in a good way. Imagine trying to describe a Baroque painting with a single, run-on sentence that somehow makes sense and you’ll start to get the picture. Mantel’s sentences twist and turn like a medieval alleyway – you’re never quite sure where they’ll end up, but you’re having too much fun getting lost to care.

And then there’s Cromwell. (Again – Thomas not Oliver) he’s the man of the hour. This guy is the ultimate underdog. He’s risen from the muck of the streets to the grandeur of the king’s court. He’s a scrapper, a thinker, and, most importantly, a survivor. He’s got more layers than an onion and peeling them back is as fascinating as it is occasionally tear-jerking. Mantel gives us a Cromwell who’s part Machiavelli, part family man, and part dark horse. One moment, he’s cold and calculating, the next, he’s reminiscing about his wife and kids. The guy’s complicated, okay? He’s got layers like an Ogre!

Now onto Henry VIII. This is a dude who’s been portrayed in about a million different ways, from the dashing young king to the bloated tyrant who couldn’t keep his head in a relationship (ba-dum-tss). Mantel gives us a Henry who’s more human than monster, which, let’s face it, is a refreshing change. Sure, he’s got his tyrannical moments – I mean, he’s Henry freaking VIII – but he’s also insecure, charming, and surprisingly relatable. You kind of get why people were willing to put up with his BS, at least until he decided your head looked better in a basket.

But Wolf Hall isn’t just about Cromwell and Henry. The whole Tudor court is here in all its scheming, backstabbing glory. There’s Anne Boleyn, playing the ultimate game of thrones; Cardinal Wolsey, the fallen mentor; and a whole host of other characters who are as vivid and vital as the historical figures they’re based on. Mantel doesn’t skimp on the supporting cast, giving everyone their moment in the spotlight and making the whole ensemble feel alive and kicking.

The historical detail in this book is off the charts. It’s like Mantel has a time machine hidden somewhere and she’s used it to go back and take notes. You can practically smell the reek of the Thames and feel the chill of a drafty castle. And yet, despite all the period accuracy, the story never feels bogged down. Mantel weaves the historical facts into the narrative so seamlessly that you’re too busy being entertained to notice you’re getting a history lesson. It’s like the best kind of sneaky education, the kind where you come away feeling smarter without ever feeling like you were in school.

One of the best things about Wolf Hall is its sheer audacity. Mantel isn’t afraid to shake up the historical fiction genre, to mess with narrative conventions and to give us a story that’s as complex and unpredictable as real life. She plays with perspective, shifting the focus in ways that keep you on your toes. And she’s not afraid to get inside Cromwell’s head, giving us a view of the world that’s as sharp and cutting as the man himself.

And speaking of sharp and cutting, the dialogue in this book is to die for. Mantel’s characters speak with a wit and verve that makes you wish you could banter half as well. It’s clever without being contrived, and it captures the essence of each character perfectly. Cromwell’s dry, sardonic humor is a highlight, providing a much-needed counterpoint to the darker elements of the story.

Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: this book isn’t exactly a breezy read. It’s dense, it’s detailed, and it demands your full attention. This isn’t something you can half-ass while binge-watching Netflix. But if you’re willing to put in the effort, the payoff is more than worth it. Wolf Hall is a book that rewards careful reading, with layers of meaning and nuance that reveal themselves the deeper you go. It’s a book that sticks with you, that you’ll find yourself thinking about long after you’ve turned the last page.

But let’s not shy away from the issues this novel has. The novel’s narrative style, with its frequent use of “he, Cromwell,” can be a bit disorienting at times. You might find yourself having to reread passages to figure out who’s speaking or thinking. And the sheer number of characters and historical events can be overwhelming if you’re not already familiar with the period. But these are minor quibbles in the grand scheme of things. The fact is, Mantel’s style, while challenging, is also what makes the book so damn compelling.

In the end, Wolf Hall is a fantastic. It’s a book that takes risks, that challenges its readers, and that offers a fresh, compelling take on a well-worn slice of history. It’s a book that’s as complex and multifaceted as its protagonist, and that’s not afraid to dive into the murky, morally ambiguous waters of Tudor politics. It’s a book that’s by turns dark, funny, heartbreaking, and exhilarating.

So, if you’re up for a literary adventure that’s as rich and rewarding as it is demanding, then Wolf Hall may fit the bill. It’s a drama so intense you’ll feel like you’ve been through Henry VIII’s six marriages yourself. But hey – at least you’re not one of the wives!