History is written by the victors. . . and then rewritten over the following decades, as it suits those in power. Or makes good reading or an exciting film. This is never more obvious than the changing descriptions of Thomas Cromwell, who rose from relative obscurity to great wealth as the chief adviser to King Henry VIII in 1500s England.

Some details about Cromwell are indisputable—he had a lot to do with the Reformation, helping England to break away from control of the Pope, and establishing Henry as head of the Church of England. It is also a fact that Cromwell eventually lost the support of Henry and was beheaded.

Everything else about Cromwell is muddy, depending on the author—including Hilary Mantel’s trilogy that covers his life span (Wolf Hall, Bring Up the Bodies, and The Mirror & the Light). Mantel won the esteemed Booker Prize for books one and two and the third was long-listed.

This version of Cromwell’s life was then re-interpreted in two TV series by the BBC and brought to America via PBS, with English Shakespearean actor Mark Rylance giving viewers a sympathetic view of Cromwell.

Of course, that had always been my objection to the artistic reinterpretation of historical fiction. Historians indicate that Cromwell was born in a household of tradesmen, rose through the ranks of power using his cunning, and went on to be a ruthless henchman, dispatching King Henry’s enemies as needed. In Mantel’s version, Cromwell was low-born to a brutal father who was a blacksmith, and rose to power as a way of supporting the family he loved. Neither of these artistic versions emphasize the violence that must have been in his skillset.

While I am still not a fan of historical fiction as a literary work, I was forced to take a closer look at Mantel’s Cromwell when my astute book club delved into Wolf Hall. What I came to reluctantly admit was that Mantel’s writing was superior and her attention to detail astounding. Consider this paragraph, as Cromwell lectures someone:

One tradesman the same as the next? Not in the real world. Any man with a steady hand and a cleaver can call himself a butcher: but without the smith, where does he get the cleaver? Without the man who works in metal, where are your hammers, your scythes, your sickles, and planes? Your arms and armor, your arrowheads, your pikes, and your guns? Where are your ships at sea and their anchors? Where are your grappling hooks, your nails, latches, hinges, pokers, and tongs. Where are your spits, kettles, trivets, your harness rings, buckles and bits? Where are your knives?

The amount of research necessary to identify these small bits of history and then write them into a lyrical prose is amazing. The bottom line – I have come to admire Mantel as a researcher and writer–and I still do not like historical fiction as a genre. But I admit that we never really know the details of long-past history which has been rewritten long before we see it. . . so I’d best go find other windmills to tilt.

JONNIE MARTIN

[Portrait of Cromwell as played by Mark Rylance in BBC series]