Sunday, April 11, 2010
I just finished Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel's revisiting of Thomas Cromwell and the maneuverings within Henry the Eighth's court. The reviews, and the Booker Prize, all suggest the book is great, and I found it so, but here's the thing: It's long. When I take on a book that's so big and ambitious and it turns out I really like it, I devote myself to it, coming up with a pale but vaguely vivid imitation of the time when I could spend a whole day with just a book. So, I let New Yorkers collect dust; I fall behind in my knitting; sometimes, I don't even want to cook for the lost time with the book. But, you know, a girl's got to eat, and so do her kids, so it's probably a good thing that I'm done with Wolf Hall. Unlike some other recent reads, I really liked it--even the bits that were a little over the top and the other bits that I didn't fully get because I don't know anything about Cromwell or the Tudors. I wonder what I'll do when the sequel comes out. I have a feeling I might not read it, but one never knows.