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By Special Guest Reviewer
Dr. Alex Hurlow (@AlexHurlow)
Hamnet was the son of a famous playwright from Stratford upon Avon. At the age of 11, in 1596, Hamnet died and around four years later his father wrote the play Hamlet. And if it seems that I am giving away spoilers, be reassured that the author, Maggie O’Farrell, tells the reader as much in the historical note that prefacesthis imaginative work.
The narrative follows the last days of Hamnet and the effect his death has onhis family in the following years. It is a meditation on grief and loss that is both stunning and haunting in equal measure. If it isn’t already clear, I liked this book.
Despite being given headline billing and being central to the plot, Hamnet is not the focus of the story. Instead, it is another character traditionally relegated to a supporting role that is given new life here: Hamnet’s mother Agnes. This is Agnes’ story, and we are left in little doubt of this.
Her marriage has often been presented as an unhappy one. There have been suggestions of a shotgun wedding and reluctance on the part of Shakespeare to accept his wife. Frequent reference has been made tohim leaving her only the ‘second-best bed with the furniture’ in his will. All these points rest on subjective evidence and have been challenged by others.
O’Farrell takes the opposing view and presents us with a character who is not defined solely in relation to her more famous husband. The choice of ‘Agnes’ (as she is named by her father in his will) rather than ‘Anne’ invites us to consider her with fresh eyes. Similarly,when Shakespeare is mentioned he is always ‘the father’ or ‘the husband’, in a style that mirrors Jean Rhys’ treatment of Mr Rochester in Wide Sargasso Sea, he is not the focus.
We meet a young woman who has talents in healing, brewing and a deep connection to nature. She possesses a quasi-supernatural empathy that allows her to discern the thoughts of those around her. These mysterious traits allow her to recognise the potential of the frustrated Latin tutor she marries, encouraging him to head to London to realise that potential for the good of their marriage (not in spite of it).
The death of Hamnet pushes this relationship and the wider family to the brink. And here I will only give a few examples of the heartbreak O’Farrell is able to evoke because these are the true spoilers. Hamnet’s twin sister Judith asks her mother what the word is for someone who was a twin, but is no longer a twin? Like a widow or an orphan, Judith looks to give a name to her state of grief, but her mother cannot answer. Every life has its kernel, its epicentre and for Agnes it is Hamnet crying out for his mother while she is away picking medicinal herbs, blissfully unaware of the events to come. A moment that lies at her core. But it is not all melancholy, the ending provides closure and hope.
The fact that O’Farrell chooses the plague as the most likely death for Hamnet makes this novel all the more timely (though she would not have known at the time of writing). In that sense it could prove both cathartic and distressing depending on the reader’s own experiences in the past year. But it is beautifully written and builds gradually. It is not immersive in the way that Hilary Mantel recreates the world of Tudor London and instead is predominantly character driven (though not without its own charming descriptions of family life and nature). Overall, O’Farrell reimagines the life of Agnes to heart-aching effect, the best I’ve read for a long time.
