by Philippa Gregory
ages: adult
First sentence: “My father is Sir Richard Woodville, Baron Rivers, an English nobleman, a landholder, and a supporter of the true Kings of England, the Lancastrian line.”
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I have to admit, first off, that I picked this book up after the Cybils on purpose. I wanted something sweeping, something grand, something intricate, and yes, something slightly skanky.

I got two of the four, plus lots of fighting, scheming and plotting, so I’m not disappointed.

Gregory takes leave of the Tudors (oh, how we all love them), and turns her more than capable gaze to the family that preceded them: the Plantangents. Since I knew absolutely nothing about them, historically speaking, I was starting from scratch. The White Queen is the story of Elizabeth Woodville, a widow whose husband fought against Edward of York, and who fell in love with Edward after meeting him to appeal the loss of her lands to her former mother-in-law. They eventually marry, in secret, and when Edward finally fights his way to the kingship, she becomes queen. It’s not a pretty book, or a simple one. There’s a huge cast of characters, and it’s full of intricate plotting and planning and fighting and twisting. There’s no such thing as real loyalty; it’s every man, and every woman out for him/herself. And, at the center of every twist and turn, is Elizabeth.

All this twisting and turning has both its pros and cons. It’s good because it keeps the 400 page book moving, and the reader guessing: what is going to happen next, and where on earth is all this going? There’s enough plotting and backstabbing and turncoating in the book to entertain just about anyone. But, there’s also enough to confuse one, too. I kept flipping back to the beginning where there was a family tree, but it didn’t do much to keep everyone straight in my head. Neither did the Author’s Note at the end, though that at least provided some fascinating historical detail. In the end, I had to put aside all my questions of who, what and where and just throw myself into the novel.

Which worked for a while. But, around two-thirds of the way through, about the time that King Edward dies, it all fell apart for me. The mystery of the missing princes that the jacket flap promised, and that sounded so intriguing, was almost an afterthought to the novel. Things unraveled for Elizabeth, as queen, as a person, and yet, somehow, the book kept going. Until, finally, it just stopped. Which, of course, leaves room open for sequels. It’s not a “to be continued”, but it’s only just short of that.

It’s not as tight as some of Gregory’s other books, but there’s much of what her fans have come to love from her in the book. Even if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I did enjoy much of it. There’s just something about the scheming and plotting of the English royalty that makes for a good story. And, at the very least, this was that.