Na te hebben gebroken met de roomskatholieke kerk om met Anne Boleyn te kunnen trouwen, lijkt Henry ook net zo snel zijn interesse in haar weer te verliezen als er maar geen sprake is van een mannelijke troonopvolger. In mei 1536 wordt ze opgesloten in de Tower op beschuldiging van overspel met meerdere mannen en veroordeeld tot de dood door onthoofding. Cromwell is oppermachtig, maar is zelf de eerste die beseft hoezeer ook zijn macht afhangt van Henry's humeuren, wensen en verlangens.
Shortlisted for The Women's Prize for Fiction 2020, this long-awaited sequel concludes Hilary Mantel's acclaimed trilogy. Set in England, May 1536, the narrative opens with the swift execution of Anne Boleyn, while Thomas Cromwell, the blacksmith's son, navigates the treacherous waters of power. As he enjoys breakfast with the victors, Cromwell's ascent continues amidst a backdrop of rebellion, treachery, and the looming threat of invasion that tests Henry VIII's regime. Lacking family support or a private army, Cromwell relies solely on his wits to envision a new future for the nation. The story poses profound questions about the past's grip on the present, as the Spanish ambassador warns Cromwell of the inevitable betrayal that awaits those close to the king. Mantel masterfully captures the final years of Cromwell's life, portraying the fierce struggle between the aspirations of a common man and the royal desires that shape the nation. This concluding volume offers a rich exploration of ambition, conflict, and the complexities of identity, bringing to life the tumultuous era of Tudor England with depth and insight.
When Frances Shore moves to Saudi Arabia, she settles in a nondescript sublet, sure that common sense and an open mind will serve her well with her Muslim neighbors. But in the dim, airless flat, Frances spends lonely days writing in her diary, hearing the sounds of sobs through the pipes from the floor above, and seeing the flitting shadows of men on the stairwell. It's all in her imagination, she's told by her neighbors; the upstairs flat is empty, no one uses the roof. But Frances knows otherwise, and day by day, her sense of foreboding grows even as her sense of herself begins to disintegrate.
