Dissolution by C. J. Sansom sat unread on my Kindle for some time, a fact that I found puzzling once I began the story. Why did I ever put it off? A historical mystery set in Tudor-era England, Dissolution is the first in a series featuring the hunchback lawyer and accidental detective Matthew Shardlake. As you might expect, the novel takes place during the dissolution of Catholic monasteries by Henry VIII. The king does not make an appearance here, but the novel finds a suitable villain in the king's manipulative adviser, Thomas Cromwell. Though Shardlake serves as a legal adviser to Cromwell, he comes to question his motives and integrity. Still, Shardlake remains a believer in church reform, and it is to Sansom's credit that—with the exception of Cromwell—he renders both the Protestant reformers and the Catholic resisters in shades of grey.
Dissolution is a quick read; Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel takes more time, but it is ultimately more rewarding. Here again we find Thomas Cromwell, but this time he is the hero of his own story, the son of a blacksmith, abused as a child, who rises to the highest rank in Henry's court. The novel's best sections center on the relationship between Cromwell and Thomas More, a contest made famous in the play and film A Man for All Seasons. For a Catholic raised on that classic, it is shocking to see More rendered as a prim idealogue with a taste for torturing heretics. But that is the genius of this novel. Mantel creates a rich symphony around a reviled figure in English history and, in the process, forces you to reassess your historical assumptions. It is an exhilerating performance, a book you may want to read more than once. But be forewarned: you will never see Robert Bolt's hero in the same light again.
Tim Reidy
But what if we don't want to see Robert Bolt's hero in a diffferent light? :) I recall that Richard Marius's biography of More caused some to see More in a tarnished light, but I much prefer the Peter Ackroyd biography for its fairness and style.
There was a line from Justo Gonzalez's The Story of Christianity, in the chapter on the Catholic Reformation, that encapsulated it for me. Speaking about reform-minded people like Queen Isabella, Gonzalez writes, and means each word sincerely, that they were simultaneously "pure, devout, and intolerant." (I think that's the quote; I'd have to check if that's it exactly.)