A review by liralen
Virgin Widow by Anne O'Brien
3.0
I still don't know what to make of historical fiction. I'm fascinated by these strange lives of queens of yore: power struggles and political marriages and, often, so little choice in what happens. I'm also typically frustrated by the emphasis on romance in historical fiction. I know virtually nothing about Anne Neville (and it seems that there is little, from a historical perspective, to know—her life was not well documented), and it's really impossible to know what either of her marriages looked like.
But that's historical fiction for you: if she's going to be in two marriages about which very little is known, and if the second marriage is to someone who grew up in her household (not uncommon, at the time)—naturally the story ought to involve her being in love with the second husband, and with him being a good man (and good leader) in contrast to the first husband's pettiness and violence. (And to have Anne remain a virgin through her first, unsatisfactory marriage... Oh, books.)
The politics, though. There's a point in Virgin Widow when Richard complains about being pressured to marry politically himself, and says that he does not like being used. Anne responds:
It's also fascinating to see how older women are portrayed in these books. It's not always consistent. There's a moment here when the young queen, Elizabeth, advises Anne to fight for her power and her (...limited...) rights—and yet whenever we see Edward's mother, one of the very few women in this book who has and uses power, she's portrayed as an awful, grasping shrew who is possibly in love with her own son. (Meanwhile, Anne's mother—who in real life got the short end of the stick, by the end—is portrayed as kind but fundamentally powerless, and someone we're supposed to root for far more than Edward's mother.)
And while we're at it: they were so young. Gad.
But that's historical fiction for you: if she's going to be in two marriages about which very little is known, and if the second marriage is to someone who grew up in her household (not uncommon, at the time)—naturally the story ought to involve her being in love with the second husband, and with him being a good man (and good leader) in contrast to the first husband's pettiness and violence. (And to have Anne remain a virgin through her first, unsatisfactory marriage... Oh, books.)
The politics, though. There's a point in Virgin Widow when Richard complains about being pressured to marry politically himself, and says that he does not like being used. Anne responds:
'Who does? It's no better for me.' Soft voiced, a hint of gentle suffering.What a bleak summary, no? It seems fitting for time and place for Richard to have thought thusly, but oh lord, I'd like to have a chat with him about how 'men have always denied you rights, so it's not a big deal that you have no rights' is not a thing.
'I disagree. It would always have been your fate to marry where the Earl decided.' (85)
It's also fascinating to see how older women are portrayed in these books. It's not always consistent. There's a moment here when the young queen, Elizabeth, advises Anne to fight for her power and her (...limited...) rights—and yet whenever we see Edward's mother, one of the very few women in this book who has and uses power, she's portrayed as an awful, grasping shrew who is possibly in love with her own son. (Meanwhile, Anne's mother—who in real life got the short end of the stick, by the end—is portrayed as kind but fundamentally powerless, and someone we're supposed to root for far more than Edward's mother.)
And while we're at it: they were so young. Gad.