I read this book like a stubborn dog who didn't want to be out on a walk, but would occasionally pick up a scent that would make me trot a few more blocks until I wanted to turn around again.

Which is to say, every time I was about to put this book down for good, another piece of Mantel's beautiful prose sucked me back in.

I fucking hate the way she says "he" constantly for Cromwell, forcing me to reread entire paragraphs to make sure it is Cromwell speaking at certain points and not another man in the scene. I'm not sure I want to read anything else by her ever again.