100 books like The Lady of Misrule

I was an avid Philippa Gregory reader in my teens, and I think the books that have an impact during your formative years really stay with you.

It was the first novel that really made me aware of historical fiction, and opened my eyes to the idea that historical events (and people) didn't need to exist purely in factual accounts – their worlds could be opened up through fiction too. I took in far more through novels like this than I did through textbooks.

And, of course, the Boleyn sisters are such wonderful characters, and Philippa Gregory's storytelling so masterful, it's not surprising this book is loved by so many. 

If any woman goes down in British history as ‘kick-ass’ it has to be Boudica and Manda Scott’s lyrical, elegant, exciting novel about her astonishing rebellion against the Romans really captures this real-life rebel in vivid and involving detail. This novel didn’t just show me the period in which it is set, but totally dropped me into it. Scott captures the mysticism of those times in an assertive, utterly convincing way to take you on the journey through the mud and blood of this astonishing woman’s fight for all that is right. Best of all – it’s the start of a series…

As a writer fascinated by the period around 1066, I’ve long been intrigued by Emma of Normandy – a woman whose marriage to King Aethelred ‘the Unready’ and, after him, to King Cnut could be said to have started England on the path to the Norman conquest. It was a joy, therefore, to find this gutsy, involving, and utterly convincing novel about her life. Queen Emma is a woman who truly demonstrates that there has always – even in the seemingly most misogynistic of times – been space in history for determined women with the self-belief to step up and claim the power they deserve and Patricia Bracewell’s novel vividly brings to life both the woman and the times.

The most up-to-date of my choices, this fabulous book is about Jackie Kennedy and Maria Callas, who both had relationships with Ari Onassis. I had obviously heard of both women in their very different contexts as wife of the president and famous opera singer but didn’t know how intimately they were connected. I love the way Gill Paul’s sparky, pacey novel brings both women to life in all their flawed, fascinating glory. 

I love this book because it gives us the stories of two intelligent young women caught up in the turmoil of the civil war, told in their own words. Both belonged to royalist families, and they endured the hardships and dangers that came from being on the losing side.

Halkett’s vivid memoir focuses on her early life as a spirited young woman who engaged in forbidden and risky romantic liaisons. She even joined one lover in a hazardous plot that enabled the king’s younger son (the future James II) to escape from the Tower of London. It reads like the storyline of a historical novel!

I will start by admitting that I had ambivalent feelings about this book for some time simply because it takes a different view on certain historical events and people than I do. Still, I cannot not recommend it, because it stunned me over and over with its vivid characters and the slowly unravelling mystery that is at the heart of the story. Above all, I was delighted to find that this novel centres around two young women who have been overshadowed by more prolific historical figures, bringing lesser-told stories to the forefront.

I loved Innocent Traitor by Alison Weir because it focuses solely on a much-forgotten woman of Tudor History. Weir gets across that Jane Gray was simply used as a political pawn. She was such a young girl, at only 17, and her parents gave no thought as to her happiness. She was scared and felt utterly alone and was handed the crown. If only for nine days, this young girl was Queen of England before her execution. She truly was an innocent traitor.

For all the books about the Protestant Reformation, very few stop to consider what it meant to be Protestant – how it felt, or what daily life was really like. Alec Ryrie tackles these questions both with empathy and analytical rigour, exploring the struggles and triumphs of individuals seeking to live godly lives against a background of ongoing religious change.

This book really foregrounds "ordinary" people and, in doing so, highlights the extraordinary quality of the everyday. It helped me to reach a better understanding of Protestantism as a dynamic and sometimes contradictory movement, and of its emotional resonance for those who embraced the reformed faith.

This incisive account of the development of Protestant extremism reveals that the beliefs of the Pilgrims were not novel. Dr Gunther traces their development back to the early years of the Reformation. When the religion of images and priests was replaced by the religion of words and preachers the implications for the English church could only be extensive and devastating. When the Bible was translated into the vernacular and increasing numbers of Christians read it for themselves it is clear (though only in hindsight) that the centre could not hold. People were driven by conscience to oppose, not only their bishops, but also their sovereign. This book is valuable for weaving the separatist vision into the weft and warp of Tudor society.

As the daughter of a wartime internee, I was particularly affected by this novel. It is 1938, and socialite Phyllis Forrester is unaware that her family life is soon to be destroyed by circumstance. A privileged wife and mother, Phyllis is politically naïve. There are subtle hints of the darkness to come as she, along with her kin, becomes increasingly involved with Oswald Mosley’s political party. When war breaks out and Phyllis is interned, she endures her downfall and imprisonment with equanimity. The book carries a quiet, sad sense of regret as she tries and fails to pick up the post-war threads of her former life. There is no going back.