100 books like Young Queens

This older, quieter novel by Sarah Dunant has stayed with me over the years. It tells the story of a young Italian woman forced into a convent after a clandestine love affair. This was the fate of thousands of Renaissance women, whether or not they had a religious vocation: convents were repositories for “surplus” women who couldn’t be respectably married off.

I appreciate how this book focuses on the surprising complexity of the cloister, from the friendships and enmities among the nuns to their incredible knowledge and expertise in music and medicine.

Dunant’s books about Renaissance Italy are always well-researched, and she has a flair for integrating small details that bring this hidden world to life.

I always appreciate a book that connects Renaissance history to present-day issues – like the never-ending pressure for women to fit a particular standard of beauty. Like us, Renaissance women obsessed over how they looked, how they smelled, their weight, their hair, their makeup (which somehow makes them seem like people we might have been friends with 500 years ago!).

Burke looks at Renaissance beauty culture through the lens of a historian, using sixteenth-century how-to manuals, poems, letters, diaries, and art to think about the impact of Renaissance ideas about beauty and the enduring connection between cosmetics and gender, misogyny, and power.

It’s an entertaining read that’s backed by serious research.

I loved this book because it’s a biography that reads like a novel and because its subject is a woman who was celebrated in her own time but has been almost totally forgotten since.

In an age when “respectable” women were discouraged from writing and publishing, Vittoria Colonna became one of the most revered poets of the Renaissance, moving in the same circles as popes, princes, writers, and artists.

I love how Targoff brings to life Colonna’s different environments – from the rocky island of Ischia off Naples, where she lived as a newlywed, to the convent where she sought refuge after the death of her husband (who inspired much of her poetry). I also appreciate the nuanced presentation of Colonna’s friendship with Michelangelo, which shows us how influential she was as his spiritual mentor. 

I wanted to include this book because it focuses not only on women in the Renaissance but on the particular experience of a Jewish woman living and writing in seventeenth-century Venice.

Even though the Venetian republic proclaimed justice and equality, those ideals did not extend to women nor to the thousands of Jews and other non-Christians who made their home in the city. As a Jewish woman, Sarra Copia Sulam had to navigate prejudice and suspicion on two fronts, yet she courageously defended herself and her faith in print.

The book does a wonderful job of showing how Sulam used her dexterous pen to take on her critics, and Westwater’s account reveals new biographical information about Sulam, her family, and Jewish life in the Renaissance.

This beautifully written nonfiction book brings to life Henry VIII’s tragic fifth queen. It reveals the complexities and colour of the ageing tyrant’s court.

It’s a book packed with detail and yet so rich in narrative that I couldn’t put it down. Henry’s wives are popular figures for biography–but Russell breathes new life into his youngest, most tragic consort.

The end of the Tudor dynasty is often rushed over; as everyone knows, Elizabeth I died childless, and her throne passed to her Stuart cousin, James. Leanda de Lisle shows why this transfer of power shouldn’t be glossed over in this sumptuous nonfiction.

In this book, she explores the wild, colourful, tumultuous politicking that went on in Elizabeth’s final years and in the years immediately after her death. What results is a story of plots, murders, and spies, as politicians employed every trick (clean and dirty) to ensure the Stuarts gained the Tudor crown.

More than any other source, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s book is responsible for our modern fascination with King Arthur. I read this for the first time at school and have returned to it again and again.

Written in Latin in the twelfth century, Monmouth claimed to have access to secret books that no other author had read–I found that intriguing all by itself. When he wrote, three of his exact contemporaries were also writing works on King Arthur, and there seems to have been a literary ‘Arthur business’ in the 1130s–why? (It was a period of great disruption in England, and she may have needed a new savior!). Although he goes way beyond the realms of history, I still find Geoffrey charming and inspiring.

Sarah Gristwood is one of our leading experts in Tudor history, and in this nonfiction study, she lays bare the complexities of love and passion at the Tudor court.

This is such a refreshing book because it explores both the similarities and the wild differences between ourselves and our ancestors. Gristwood provides a rich sense of what love, marriage, passion, and the performance of emotion meant to the Tudors.

One cannot quite look at Henry VIII or any of his wives in quite the same way after reading.

This retelling of King Lear from the point of view of the king’s jester (or “Fool”) named Pocket is a fun read, but prepare yourself. If you’re not into bawdy humor, stay away. Personally, I found the vulgar irreverence funny, and seeing the tragic events of the original happen around this character who isn’t really affected by any of it gave the story a unique perspective.

This book is like Shakespeare told by Monty Python after the iconic troop is given the okay to proceed with a hard R-rating. The humor plays in both the small moments and the larger, thematic ones.  

Susan Nagel charted Marie-Thérèse's life during the turmoil of the French Revolution. The only survivor of the royal family locked in Temple Prison, despite the harrowing experience of her family’s demise and the French Revolution, Marie Antoinette’s daughter emerged as a remarkably strong figure in French history.

Marie-Thérèse journeyed from the horrors of the Temple prison and her family’s death to a dignified role at court when she married her cousin and the monarchy returned after the Revolution and Napoleon’s empire. I was amazed at how little I knew about Marie-Thérèse—she was even queen for 20 minutes when her husband reigned and abdicated!