Portrait of an Unknown Woman

Victoria Bennett

HarperCollins

Otago Daily Times, July 14th 2007

One of the criteria on which I judge a book (particularly one with historical content) is whether it sparks the desire to find out more about the topics it presents. By this measure alone, Portrait of an Unknown Woman is an excellent read. Beginning in the early spring of 1527, it follows the fortunes of Sir Thomas More and his family through the tumult of the Reformation.

During a few short years, More goes from being Lord Chancellor to Henry VIII, champion of the Catholic faith and the foremost scourge of heretic Protestants, to a haunted man and traitor to the throne. The corresponding alteration of the political and religious face of England is almost as extreme.

Bracketing this temporal narrative are two portraits of the family by Hans Holbein, one in 1527 and the second in 1532, paintings whose subtle difference reflect both the personal and national changes over the period.

The central character of the story is not More but one of his wards, Meg Griggs, and her account of these eventful times is interleaved with the story of her marriage to her one time tutor, John Clement. Although Meg initially worships both men, she uncovers a series of secrets about each of them that leave her questioning her relationships with both them and with her faith.

Is her guardian guilty of the acts of torture and brutality of which he is accused? Is John Clement really who he claims? Is the idea that ordinary people should be able to read the scriptures really heresy? Where do the lies stop and the truth begin?

At times, it seems the only honest person she knows is Holbein, and the painter’s return to complete the second portrait leaves her faced with a choice between his uncomplicated passion and that of the men she loves but no longer trusts.

Bennett blends historical fact and speculation with romance and art theory as skilfully as Holbein does realism and visual metaphor in his paintings. I finished eager to investigate both the Reformation and Sir Thomas in more depth (as much to dissect fact from fiction as anything else). But the first thing I had to do was to hunt down copies of the three canvases described in the story — the two family scenes and The Ambassadors.

As artistically autistic as I am, her explanations of the symbolic, stylistic and technical details of these paintings were as fascinating as the historical significance of what they depict.

The best lessons are those that do not feel like learning at all, and Portrait of an Unknown Woman was a masterclass — and a jolly good read to boot.