cacakerbamakhlukpolitik

Last Saturday I attended a “launch” gathering of historical fiction writers, part of the Historical Novel Society’s effort to establish small sub-chapters in various parts of the country (HNS is based in England). This first meeting, held at the Hotel Rex in San Francisco, proved exciting. The 25 gathered members did decide to establish an HNS chapter in northern California; they also decided to meet four times a year with various agendas, including workshops, readings, critique sessions, and speakers; and they decided to establish a Facebook page. But the best part for me personally was the people who attended! I met authors I admire, including Cecelia Holland ( The King’s Witch; Great Maria; The Secret Eleanor ); C.W. Gortner ( Confessions of Catherine de Medici, The Tudor Secret; The Last Queen ); and long-revered writer Persia Woolley ( Child of the Northern Spring and 2 other works in her Guinevere trilogy). Following the meeting, a roster was sent to all attendees listing wri...

If I could give it six or seven stars out of the allowable five, I'd do so , is what I recently wrote on Goodreads.com about this splendid historical novel that kept me reeling and squealing with pure reading pleasure last week while the rest of my life ground to a halt around it. Not that I'm exactly alone in my appreciation. The reviews have been rapturous, the accolades universal. Wolf Hall didn't only receive Britain's prestigious Man Booker Prize this year; it was the oddsmakers' favorite since the short list of (spectacular) finalists was announced. But I'm probably relatively alone -- if not in my pristine ignorance of its subject, then in my complete lack of prior interest in it. Because before I read this book, not only did I know absolutely zip about Thomas Cromwell, Wolf Hall's towering, tough, surprisingly sympathetic, and entirely absorbing subject (who was King Henry VIII's chief minister and active fixer during the period of his divorce ...