4 Reasons to Read Wolf Hall Before You Watch the Show

Same story, new verse
The Tudors are the dynasty that has spawned a thousand works of fiction (including the pulpy, sexy Showtime series), and as the paterfamilias, Henry usually gets to showboat. Not so in Mantel’s wonderfully counterintuitive books. Here, great hulking Henry takes a seat. He is explored primarily through his relationships with Cromwell, with Anne, with his coterie of hangers-on. It’s the lesser beings in Henry’s orbit, led by Cromwell, who carry the weight of the narrative. Even the outsized Cardinal Wolsey, Henry’s one-time confidante and right-hand papal liaison, is diminished, as the book begins on the cusp of his downfall.
The whirl of hurricane Anne, naturally, cannot be ignored. She’s a looming presence, even on the pages in which she does not appear. But her bouts of fury, her seductive schemes, are balanced by other characters’ small, bright moments, like young Grace Cromwell twirling in the angel wings her father made for her. This is a decidedly human story, filled with decidedly human moments.

An inside (and outside) look at Cromwell
First-person narration not only limits perspective, but fuses you with a character you should instead be observing. Mantel shows us the world through Thomas Cromwell’s eyes—but the book is narrated in the third person. Because of this authorial choice, we never become Cromwell. Instead, we observe him in all his complexity.
History, sans the boring bits
If there’s an Achilles heel of historical fiction, it’s an overeagerness to convey information. Thus, you get characters droning on with scene-setting exposition, or dropping frequent references to their farthingales and the obscure members of noble families. Mantel skips this dreary stuff. Instead of making her characters spout facts like one of Disney’s Hall of Presidents animatrons, she endows them with personality and focuses on their particularities. So, when Anne Boleyn boldly takes the seat of the ousted Queen Katherine at a banquet, the gossips in the hall don’t tut-tut over her indiscretions, telegraphing the context to the reader. Instead Mantel gives us this:
“There was frost on the ground, frost in the atmosphere…. The Duchess of Norfolk (who is always furious about something) was furious that her niece should have precedence. The Duchess of Suffolk, Henry’s sister, refused to eat. Neither of these great ladies spoke to Boleyn’s daughter. Nevertheless, Anne had taken her place as the first lady of the kingdom.”
In a few lines, Mantel brings the scene to life and tells us everything we need to know about these politicking women.
Murder most fun
Reading Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies should be a priority because they’re just fun. Life was misery for many in Tudor times, but Mantel’s gallows humor allows us to relish even the grimmest scenarios. For instance, Cromwell muses, “The trouble with England… is that it’s so poor in gesture. We shall have to develop a hand signal for ‘Back off, our prince is f*cking this man’s daughter.’ He is surprised the Italians have not done it.”
Who says you can’t giggle when the headsman’s knocking on the door?
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