The most recommended 16th century books

A sizzling tale of competition, grandeur, and royal romance—and it’s true! Shakespeare loved writing about court intrigue and this story of Queen Elizabeth and the courtiers & ministers who created spectacular gardens for her has loads of it. People always focus on what was going on behind palace walls & inside castle corridors, but it turns out the real drama is down in the garden. Imagine gilding rosemary bushes so they glitter in the sun. I certainly think the theatricality of the landscape inspired Shakespeare’s work. In addition to being intricate and fascinating, this book impelled me to further investigate Queen Elizabeth’s effect on the green space of the country and seeding the prospect of garden competition. For me, it uncovered an amazing origin story of green desire and the intricate facets of female leadership.

In this book, Bakewell describes the philosophy of Michel de Montaigne in, as she writes, one question and twenty attempts at an answer.

Although I spent much of my time during the early 1990s reading philosophy, I read little of Montaigne’s work. I had focused on the writing of the ancient Greeks and, as a result, I had failed to notice the important work of Montaigne. Bakewell’s clever, question-based approach is engaging.

I strongly recommend it, even if you are familiar with philosophy and Montaigne’s abundance of writing.

A neglected classic of popular history. This book taught me things about the history of magic that now seem so obvious and important that I wonder how I missed them before. Ryrie tells the story of the fraudulent magician Gregory Wisdom, whose deception of a Tudor nobleman led to allegations of attempted murder by witchcraft. More broadly, he reveals a world in which the widespread acceptance of occult phenomena made counterfeit magic alluringly credible, and charlatans co-existed with “genuine” practitioners of magic. I know of no other book that describes the twilight world of fake and real sorcery with such vividness and insight.

Today concerns over madness and disability are very much with us, especially if they connect with issues of power and masculinity. This was also true in the age of Shakespeare. Christina Gutierrez-Dennehy’s collection of essays on the topic of mad kings on the Renaissance stage is very readable and interesting, and tie in with contemporary issues. The book is divided into three sections: distracted kingship, fractured masculinity, and performed madness. The plays under discussion include Shakespeare’s King Lear, Hamlet, Macbeth, Richard III, Henry VI, and All’s Well That Ends Well. Gutierrez-Dennehy brilliantly and explicitly brings the topics raised in the collection into the twenty-first century. 

Loh’s gorgeous book pursues Renaissance artists, including Michelangelo, Raphael, Titian, and Dürer, into their studios, bedrooms, and graves to examine artists’ self-portraits and portraits.

I found the self-portraits of Sofonisba Anguissola, Parmigianino, Jacopo da Pontormo, Nicolas Poussin, and the Carracci family particularly remarkable. Loh evokes the fear and pathos of living in an age of plague and syphilis. She told tales of art-world friendship and rivalries, including pranks and poisonings.

The book is lavishly illustrated, and I enjoyed her evident delight in the vivacious text she was generating. This book took me on a fascinating journey into the necromantic powers of the portrait, as all bodies inexorably become still lives. A nonfiction book that was as unputdownable as any fine novel.

As Peter Bruegel stands in the Sistine Chapel admiring Michelangelo’s work he realizes he could never compete with one who works in the heavens – above. He will confine himself to the below – the common man. We follow Bruegel and his friends on his journeys, his daily life, and the inspiration he finds in the everyday world around him. His peasants are peasants. Their daily toil is not romanticized. Their feasts consist of rural fare.  Even his religious art is not idealized. It is wonderful to imagine that the author has walked in Bruegel's shoes. Rudy Rucker is a professor of math and computer science but his extensive research has brought to life an artist who left very little of his own life to history.  

I always knew that espionage and spycraft were a huge part of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, but to have a young woman be at the very core of the conspiracies was totally badass and unexpected! Mallory Bright is the talented daughter of a London locksmith, but after a terrible scandal, she’s propelled into Sir Francis Walsingham’s world of danger and deception—picking locks, unraveling codes, and trying on new identities! At first, she’s enamored with her new profession, but even as a woman, she can’t escape the brutal tortures and punishments that await someone in such a dangerous role. Throughout her trials, her bravery and talent are captivating, and I loved watching her eventually regain her own agency and strength while putting her horrid past behind her.

A mammoth of an historical novel set in the time of the Ottoman Empire.

A unique love story between the elephant keeper (and royal architect) Jahan, his special white elephant, Chota, and the interesting princess Mihrimah. As funny as it is heartbreaking, with characters so compelling they felt like cherished friends mourned and missed at parting, but whom I’ll always remember with deep fondness.   

I love everything by Elizabeth Norton, but this book is one of my all-time favourites.

It tells the story of Elizabeth I’s life before she became queen; the spotlight is on her short stay in the household of Katherine Parr and Thomas Seymour. Fast-paced and evocative, it reads like a thriller.

It’s a narrative based on primary source material, printed and archival, describing the events between Henry VIII’s death in January 1547 and Thomas Seymour’s execution in March 1549.

This book is a lesson in how to create an immersive historical narrative while staying true to the primary sources. An inspiration.

A startling finding when I was researching Elizabethan ideas about the mind was how far their attitudes to the imagination differed from ours.

We see it as a creative force to be encouraged and liberated, but for them it was dangerous, deceptive, and unruly, leading towards sinfulness and madness. Roychoudhury explains how early scientific thinking was starting to unsettle this traditional view of the imagination as reprehensible, and traces the effects of this in works including A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Sonnets, and Macbeth.

I would add that the new commercial playhouses for which Shakespeare wrote became experimental crucibles: these were spaces where the combined imaginations of playwright, actors, and audiences created virtual realities, unleashing an exhilarating and magical sense of the powers of imagination.