Alison Weir’s The Cardinal offers a detailed account of Thomas Wolsey’s rise from modest origins to preeminence in Henry VIII's court. Set against the volatile backdrop of early Tudor England, the novel maps Wolsey’s ascent through the Church and the State and his eventual collapse under the weight of court politics, shifting loyalties, and the King's unmet expectations.
Weir is on firm ground when dealing with the machinery of power, its rewards, resentments, and ruthlessness. She captures the political volatility of the period with clarity and an eye for personal consequence. Many historical events are effectively embedded in the narrative, and the figures who move through it, such as Henry VIII, Catherine of Aragon, and others. However, the choice to modernize the language often flattens the historical texture. While it may improve accessibility, it also undermines the period atmosphere and sometimes makes intimate court scenes feel jarringly contemporary.
A structural issue that becomes more apparent as the novel progresses is its heavy reliance on exposition over dramatization. Rather than immersing the reader in the immediacy of key historical moments, Weir often opts to summarize them, telling us what happened and what it meant, rather than allowing events to unfold through scene, dialogue, or sensory detail. As a result, the novel sometimes resembles a dramatized chronicle more than a fully realized work of historical fiction. The reliance on exposition dampens narrative momentum and distances readers from the emotional stakes of the period’s most consequential episodes.
The novel is most persuasive when it focuses on the complex relationship between Wolsey and the King. Here, Weir draws on the rich material of George Cavendish’s account to evoke a strategic and emotionally charged bond, a closeness that adds poignancy to Wolsey’s fall. The balance of power, favor, and fear is deftly rendered, and these scenes carry an intensity that the broader narrative sometimes lacks.
More problematic is Weir’s speculative portrayal of Wolsey’s personal life, particularly his relationship with Joan Larke and their children. Despite authorial claims of transparency and caution, the invented material occupies substantial narrative space and veers into melodrama. These speculative elements are not lightly interwoven but form a parallel plot that, rather than illuminating historical silence, risks distorting the portrait of a man whose real-life contradictions were compelling enough. The emotional arc crafted around Joan may humanize Wolsey, but it does so at the cost of historical plausibility.
The Cardinal is an ambitious novel that succeeds in many respects as a dramatization of early Tudor power politics. Its core achievement lies in its exploration of the vulnerability that underpins even the greatest heights of authority. While serious students of the period may find the historical liberties frustrating, readers seeking an accessible entry point to Tudor court intrigue will find much to appreciate in Weir's sympathetic portrayal of a complex figure whose ambition was matched only by his fall. But it remains a novel divided between fidelity to source material and the temptations of narrative embellishment. In choosing to fictionalize what is least known about Wolsey and summarize what is most historically vivid, Weir leaves the reader informed but rarely transported.
This review is based on an advance reader copy provided by NetGalley and Random House Publishing Group - Ballantine. “The Cardinal” is scheduled for release in the UK on May 22, 2025, and in the USA on May 27, 2025.
This is very helpful criticism as many historical fiction writers, including myself, grapple with modernised dialogue and the whole "show don't tell" debate. A well-crafted review, Jonathan.
A great and thoughtful review. This is on my list so great to hear your thoughts. I'm certainly interested for the political side, and interesting to hear about the language modernisation and family aspects. A very helpful review as always :)