By pure coincidence, the last three historical novels I have read share a common theme: women in confinement. From Kristen Holt-Browning's Ordinary Devotion, where an anchoress voluntarily accepts burial rites to be walled away from the world, to Pat Barker's The Voyage Home, chronicling Cassandra's captivity in the aftermath of Troy's fall, each work examines how women navigate spaces of constraint. Now, Flora Carr's debut novel, The Tower, completes this inadvertent trilogy, transporting readers to Lochleven Castle, where Mary, Queen of Scots, and her chambermaids find themselves imprisoned after her forced abdication. While Holt-Browning's anchoress chose her confinement as a path to spiritual transcendence, and Barker's Cassandra endured hers as a spoil of war, Carr's women face a more politically charged imprisonment, one that tests the bounds of loyalty, friendship, and resilience in the face of patriarchal power.
Mary Stuart's imprisonment at Lochleven Castle in 1567 marked a devastating turn in her turbulent reign. Having become Queen of Scots as an infant, Mary spent her youth in the French court, returning to Scotland in 1561 as a young widow after the death of her first husband, Francis II of France. Her position as a Catholic monarch in Protestant Scotland was precarious. Still, it was her third marriage to the Earl of Bothwell—widely believed to be responsible for the murder of her second husband, Lord Darnley—that proved her undoing. Scottish nobles rebelled, forcing her abdication in favor of her infant son, James VI. Her subsequent imprisonment at Lochleven, though lasting less than a year, would herald nearly two decades of captivity. After her dramatic escape in May 1568, Mary fled to England seeking protection from her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I, only to face another nineteen years of imprisonment before her execution in 1587.
Through the eyes of Jane, one of Mary's chambermaids, the novel blends historical events—including Mary's miscarriage, the execution of her husband Darnley, and her controversial relationship with Bothwell—with a poignant exploration of female bonds and the psychological toll of captivity. What emerges is not just another retelling of Mary Stuart's famous imprisonment but a meditation on how women create spaces of freedom within the confines of their circumstances.
Carr's writing vividly captures the essence of Lochleven Castle, with descriptions that immerse readers in every aspect of castle life: the damp stone walls, the constant indoor scents of unwashed hair and chamber pots, and the sound of oars slicing through water like long knives. Even the changing seasons, from oppressive summer heat to the bitter chill of Scottish winters, reflect the emotional landscape of the narrative. Through these details, Carr creates an atmosphere that perfectly captures both the physical constraints and psychological weight of imprisonment.
Each woman in Mary's circle brings a distinct perspective to the narrative. Initially described as like a wren, "small, quick, dark…," Jane develops from a quiet observer into a figure of remarkable resourcefulness and courage. Cuckoo, the French chambermaid, provides emotional vitality with her outspoken nature and homesickness for France while struggling with her desires for love and security. Lady Seton, Mary's childhood friend, navigates the delicate balance between devotion to her queen and her growing feelings for Jane, adding layers of complexity to the interpersonal dynamics within the tower.
Mary herself is a fascinating study of contradictions. At once regal and childlike, manipulative and vulnerable, she displays an uncanny ability to inspire devotion while harboring a deep need for adoration. Her presence drives the narrative, even as her actions reveal the complex nature of power and its costs.
The Tower examines how power builds and crumbles through interlocking narratives heavy as masonry. Mary's imprisonment starkly contrasts her former status as queen, underscoring themes of gender constraints and societal expectations in sixteenth-century Scotland. The narrative weaves together multiple forms of confinement—physical, social, and psychological—while examining how women navigate and resist these constraints.
The novel examines the nature of loyalty, mainly through the complex relationships between Mary and her ladies-in-waiting. Each woman must grapple with competing loyalties: to their queen, each other, and their own heart. The growing relationship between Jane and Seton adds another layer to these considerations, highlighting the personal costs of devotion in a world where such relationships must remain hidden.
Carr skillfully explores the performative aspects of identity, particularly through Mary's careful cultivation of her royal persona even in captivity and Seton's dangerous role as the queen's double during escape attempts. These elements raise profound questions about authenticity, survival, and the masks we wear in times of crisis.
The plot unfolds with deliberate pacing that mirrors the rhythms of castle life, where long periods of monotony are punctuated by moments of heart-stopping tension. Carr employs a rich tapestry of symbols throughout the narrative: birds and flight represent the yearning for freedom; the ever-present loch serves as both a barrier and potential means of escape; and flowers, particularly Mary's emblematic marigolds, become tokens of hope and resistance.
The author's use of sensory detail creates moments of stunning beauty amid the darkness. Whether describing "the colour of French sunlight" or how Mary's voice is "bright and shining as a pearl," Carr's prose elevates the narrative beyond mere historical re-creation into something more poetic and profound.
The Tower is a remarkable debut that transforms Mary Stuart's dramatic history into an intimate and visceral experience. Though confined to a single castle, Carr crafts an expansive narrative that explores the depths of human resilience and the power of female bonds. Readers who appreciate richly detailed historical fiction will find themselves immersed in this masterful exploration of women's lives and relationships. Through luminous prose and psychological complexity, The Tower offers a fresh perspective on a pivotal historical moment while exploring timeless questions about power, loyalty, and the bonds between women. It is an impressive debut and a meaningful addition to the historical fiction genre.
I love how you so insightfully highlighted the thematic links between the three novels (including my own!). I will definitely be reading this one!