Let it be known far and wide that the version of Anne Boleyn created by Gemma Lawrence remains breath-taking throughout The Scandal of Christendom (Above All Others – The Lady Anne, Book #4).
Beginning in Autumn 1530, The Scandal of Christendom follows Anne Boleyn through the aftermath of the downfall of Cardinal Wolsey and the events surrounding the unofficial banishment of Queen Katherine/The Princess Dowager of Wales, and Princess (now bastard) Mary, daughter of Katherine and Henry VIII. As Henry’s first wife and surviving child are removed from the English Court, the throne is vacant for Anne’s taking as her family scrambles and strives for the King’s affection and grace…meanwhile Anne moves ever-closer to Henry’s bedchamber to conceive the male heir England so desperately needs. After their marriage and the birth of Anne and Henry’s first child, Elizabeth, Anne quickly conceives again, just as she learns her crown is only as secure as the prince in her womb, and that her beloved’s affections may be dashing toward his alleged mistresses.
Throughout all of this, Lawrence’s insight into Anne’s incredibly-human, wholly-relatable, and—I believe—realistic emotions and reactions remain stunning. While Anne’s rage against the Cardinal is boundless and she fails to lament her cruelty toward the man, her encouraged treatment of her former mistress, Katherine, and daughter Mary give her pause. As much as Anne realizes she’s nudging Henry’s hand in their treatment for her own benefit, she realizes the ways in which the men of her family are doing the same with her. Furthermore, as Henry’s body strays from her bed during her first pregnancy, Anne begins to accept how imperfect Henry truly is as a husband, prompting another series of reflections as she ponders the similarities between her present situation and the one she brought upon Katherine only a few years prior.
This observed irony is my favorite aspect of The Scandal of Christendom. I’ve often wondered if the real Anne Boleyn ever wondered or realized the things she shared with Katherine, if only by circumstance. After reading Lawrence’s book, I can only think, “How could Anne not have realized it? Anne was a brilliant woman. The irony wouldn’t have been lost on her.”
Additionally, after Anne gives birth to her first child, a girl, Henry’s limited enthusiasm humbled Anne. Perhaps for the first time, Anne understood that Henry loved her potential as a woman who could potentially bear him a son far more than he truly loved her. After all, during their courtship, he treated her as an equal; now, as she remains in her child-bed, he treats her as the weaker sex (as if childbirth doesn’t require strength!).
When Anne conceives their second child quickly following Elizabeth’s birth and her subsequent churching, Henry’s body strays yet again into the bed of a mistress. This information distresses Anne and humbles her further; she now knows Henry does not adore her as his pretty words had promised. While Anne felt trapped throughout the duration of Henry’s Great Matter, she now expresses moments of feeling chained, struggling to come to grips with the epiphany that the sons she may bear will be her only salvation, akin to the manner in which her child-bearing potential and stark contrast to Henry’s former wife brought her to his attention so many years ago.
As Anne’s second pregnancy progresses, the book ends with an Epilogue in the Tower once more, while Anne awaits the dawn of her execution day. Reading Lawrence’s version of Anne’s thoughts, I can feel Anne’s anguish—her desire to be a mother, her love for her children she sacrificed to England’s ruler, her pain of so many lost lives of her loved ones. Imperfect she many have been, Anne was an exceptional woman (in reality and fiction alike), and the sympathy she evokes is astounding. Even though I know how history will play out five hundred years ago and what the next book holds, I am enraged that I cannot rescue Anne, a woman who could have been so much more and who deserved so much more than being queen. This, of course, is due in large part to Gemma Lawrence’s incredible skill with the written word, and for that, I am grateful.
The Scandal of Christendom was a little slow for me to start, but that is because of my personal preferences, not the book itself (I simply am not fascinated by Cardinal Wolsey, so this portion of the book wasn’t as thrilling for me to read). Nonetheless, this book absolutely deserves all five of the stars I’m awarding it, and more.
You can see my reviews of La Petite Boulain, The Lady Anne, and Above All Others also on The Pensive Bookworm.
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