I've never really worshiped at the altar of Margaret George.

"The Memoirs of Cleopatra" is fantastic; that I will never deny. It's probably the best fictional Cleopatra book out there. "Helen of Troy" is frothy and fun and kind of a really long summer beach read? I don't know. "Mary Queen of Scotland & The Isles" was basically a bodice ripper with really disturbing implications... (George apparently dismisses any idea that Mary was kidnapped or raped by her third husband--and believe me, that possibility is quite strong and at least deserves to be acknowledged when you're writing about Mary, Queen of Scots.) "Mary, Called Magdalene" is the red-headed stepchild of George novels, and with good reason. It's interesting, in my opinion, but quite slow. (Still better than "Elizabeth I", but I'll get to that later.) Finally... I will never understand the world's love affair with "The Autobiography Henry VIII" which is basically a sexist if occasionally intriguing adventure through a totally glorified Henry VIII. (But Caroline! you say. It was largely from Henry's perspective! Of course he was glorified and sexist! Yes, reader. Of course he was. Yet I have read books from the perspective of sexist males, and the female characters were still valid, rounded characters textually. Margaret George simply couldn't hack it.)

So, obviously, I have a love/hate relationship with Margaret George. Still: I cannot believe how boring this thing was. Just, pardon my French, fucking boring. It was this endless list of what Elizbaeth I did here, what she did there, what she did in the privy, how much menopause sucked... (Not that menopause doesn't suck; I know I'm still a youngling, but I do have a bitchy grandma out there.) Here's the thing--there's a reason why so few authors choose to write in detail about Elizabeth's final years. If they do, they focus on the Essex plot... which is what I though George would do. Especially since a good portion of the book delves into Lettice Knollys's--Essex's mother--perspective.

Nope. Nope. Essex does feature heavily in the novel, but the plot doesn't really happen until the end. Even then, you're kind of stuck wondering why Elizabeth would be fooled by him, since George portrays her more as a god than a human being. She's so magnanimous, and so dull. There are no believable frailties within George's Elizabeth. She's like Glenda Jackson's Liz on crack, with none of the humanity. (Or maybe Cate Blanchett's Elizabeth? I don't know. Either way, she was hitting up the stereotype.)

Lettice is a bit more human, but there are a lot of slut-shaming ambition-is-evil implications going on here. Also, she serves largely as a revolving door for various famous historical figures. "Elizabeth I" serves cameo after cameo. Oh, look! It's Grace O'Malley! Oh, look! It's ambiguously gay/bisexual William Shakespeare! And he's a hunk o' burning love sexing up Lettice!

Honestly, what was this book.