I have somehow serendipitously found myself reading an immersive, un-put-down-able book over a long holiday weekend. It is particularly lucky because I have attempted to read Wolf Hall, the first volume in Hilary Mantel's historical fiction trilogy about the life of Thomas Cromwell, at least once before, to no avail. I don't think I made it past page 20. And not because the writing wasn't good or the story wasn't excellent -- it won the Man Booker prize-- but because I just wasn't in the right frame of mind to dig into it.
Outlander definitely helped; I guess I'm in more of an Anglophile phase right now. Autumn also helps, because it's a great book for cozy reading with apple cider and Anthropologie candles everywhere. And even though the subject is something I've largely exhausted already (I went through a major Tudor dynasty phase, reading every Antonia Fraser biography I could get my hands on), Hilary Mantel's incredible writing has revived it for me. Historical fiction can often be a huge drag because authors fill in the gaps of history with cliche after cliche, and characters are so flat. Mantel seems to have no trouble, though, mining the depths of the story and imagining actual historical figures as incredibly well-developed characters with inner lives that would stand on their own in a novel about entirely fictional characters. The fact that I know how the story will end never impedes my enjoyment, nor does it seem to affect the pacing or suspense, which is a remarkable feat. Historical fiction so often plods forward to an ending that feels so inevitable, but Wolf Hall feels so fresh and original, despite its familiarity.
As if you needed another reason to read it, there is a forthcoming BBC miniseries, starring Damian Lewis as Henry Tudor.