In the middle of Wolf Hall

from Jonathan Bass

This is the last week of January, and I have not finished one single book since the year started. In total, it's been 26 days since I've actually finished a book.

I mention this because, in the last couple of years, going this long without finishing a book is highly unusual for me. Usually, at this point, I'd pick up a short YA read or a graphic novel and have done with my guilt of going so long without finishing anything. Except that this time, I strangely have no guilt.

"What book are you reading?," you might ask. Well, obviously from the blog title, I'm in the middle of Wolf Hall. Smack in the middle of this 650 page tome. But no, it is not the book's fault. Funnily, a couple of weeks ago, I was telling a friend that I was reading Wolf Hall and finding it awesome. I said that, thus far, it seems to be the most readable Booker prize winner I've read. Which puzzled her, because it was taking me forever to get through. I wasn't sure how to explain it then. Let me try now...

There are certain books, I am sure you know, that are lovely to read very slowly. I find Wolf Hall to be one of these books. I honestly thought I wouldn't enjoy it as much or find it beautiful. I had never read Hilary Mantel, and my impression of the book is that it is fraught with political intrigue, being a story of Cromwell, after all. My ditz side really cannot stomach political intrigue. Moreover, though I know a bit of Tudor history, it is mostly limited to what Shakespeare's history plays tell me. So, no, I do not know Cromwell that well.

But I opened Wolf Hall, and the first page is at once filled with brutality and a bid for survival. And all in readable prose. Surprise, surprise--a Booker winner that begins with some action. And, even greater surprise, way before the political intrigue started, I was already drawn in by the portrayal of family. Cromwell had family, some of whom were blackguards, some of whom he valued. Later on, he had family he loved. Their families figure, not in overabundance, but they are always in the background. Heck, even Cromwell's loyalty to Cardinal Wolsey reminds me of the familial bond. So, one gets to thinking, "Hey, courtiers, kings, politicians--they're human, too."

For my money, Mantel humanized Cromwell excellently. The man is intelligent, practical, cunning. And, he knows how to survive. He is feared by his enemies, but loved by his people, most especially his family, whom he treats well. He doesn't speak of love with them, but he shows it. He knows pain, has lived through it. I think it's at those parts that I do tend to read slowly. Because this is one of those books that, after reading through a page, I find an awesome passage--raw emotion captured in restrained prose. Then, I put the book down, and just dwell on that passage. Because I then have to restrain the emotion it brings out in me.

And speaking of the prose--fantastic. What I dislike sometimes about historical novels is that you can tell that they dress up 21st century sensibilities in a historical setting or in historical characters. So, you get the feeling that the characters are just mouthpieces of modern counterparts, and they're not really authentic to their time. Now, in Wolf Hall, the language is not of the 16th century, but the 21st. Does this make the book and its characters seem less authentic? Not in any way. Though the language is modern, the characters and how they react to situations are not. And that, I think, is true testament to Mantel's art--she gives us a glimpse into their world and doesn't just recreate ours with Tudor trappings.

Ok, this is supposed to explain why I'm taking Wolf Hall very slowly. I'm enjoying it, and I'm in no rush. But I would be lying if I said that this was the only reason I haven't finished the book.

The other reason has nothing to do with the book itself. I find that I may have slight case of reading fatigue. Which is really a great irony. You see, years ago, way back in college, I remember writing a short essay about me. In it, I said that, if I could find a job where I did nothing but read all day and earn money, then I would be happy. I thought teaching English would do that for me, but I learned otherwise. Anyway, now I've changed careers, I find myself in a job where I do have to read all day and earn money for it. I made it happen! Whoop-ti-do!

Of course, I read textbooks instead of trade books. Plus, I have to edit them. So, at the end of the day, I feel like my brain can only take in so many words to think about and process. The height of it was when I went to a bookstore and I found myself avoiding looking at the books, because all I could think about was, "I wonder how many times those books were edited before they went to print." Hilarious! How funny life turns out sometimes, doesn't it?

So, I really am enjoying my new career, but I find that when I get home, I prefer flopping on to the bed and mindlessly flipping through the channels on tv. And, really, at this point, guilt about not finishing a book is totally pointless. I'm enjoying what I'm doing now, I'm enjoying reading Wolf Hall slowly.

I'm even enjoying posting a semi-review of a book I semi-finished. Now to go and start watching the latest season of Dexter...