Hamnet

Hamlet is centered around Agnes, William Shakespeare's wife: her relationship with her family, her husband and her children. Maggie O'Farrell chooses to emphasize the fact by never writing the name William. This is true for the entirety of the book, except the second part is also an exploration of grief.

It is pretty evident from the book that O'Farrell knows how to write, she does have that kind of style some would associate with literary fiction. However, I feel like she, at times, overdid it with the descriptions and lingered too long on them, to the point where you could skip some parts and not miss out on anything.

Even though I overall enjoyed the book and how some themes were wrought, something was amiss for me in the second part: not enough delving into her children (I'm trying not to spoil anything, but if you've read it you'll most likely know what I'm talking about) and, ironically, some plot points regarding Shakespeare (his infidelity and brushing aside of it, lack of depth (regardless of the book not being about him. He's still a central part to the story)).

TW: Child death

3.5/5 - I have so many complex feelings about this book so let me try and list them down simply. This is by no means a bad book, but it is also a very triggering book. As a first-time and new mom of a baby who has a few surgeries planned, this was not an easy book to read for me. However, there are reasons why I didn't mind going through with it instead of simply DNFing it despite the triggers.

From the blurb and even from the first page of this book, you know that Hamnet dies before you even begin. The rest of the book is really just like watching a train wreck in agonizingly slow motion. Not just the train wrecking itself, but also the factors leading up to a train wreck, like a driver falling asleep or a conductor missing a light. You see every tiny detail that leads up to the big tragedy of this book. But I appreciated this point somehow, that we spend most of the book seeing the tragedy coming and mentally bracing ourselves for it, and that's probably why I managed to make it through the book.

The most triggering parts of the plot for me was in the very final (and long) chapter. I'll skip over describing the chapter, but I skimmed through at least the first half of it because I knew I wasn't mentally or emotionally ready to read that kind of detail yet.

The complexity of my feelings is with how the major theme of the book, the death of a child, is dealt with. I'm not sure if I'm a huge fan of how it's treated here.

Everyone knows this book is about William Shakespeare's wife Agnes and their three children. Two major factors rubbed me the wrong way, although to differing extents. Shakespeare's name is not mentioned a single time through this book, and he's not even referred to as “William” at all. He is the only character in this book to not even be referred to by name. I suppose there might be a reason for it - that his fame is enough to drown out every other character in this book, and since this book is meant to shine the spotlight on them, O'Farrell felt the need to put Shakespeare in the darkest corner of the room. I guess that's fine, but after an entire book of reading him being referred to as “the bridegroom”, “her husband”, “the son”, “the father”, etc. it just started feeling a little gimmicky and like we're just dancing around the obvious. You know that psychology thing where if you were asked not to think of a pink elephant, you would do exactly just that? This basically felt like that. Shakespeare is referred to in all the book's marketing materials (obviously for publicity purposes), but then in not acknowledging this story is also about him, it just felt like - we all know this already, why don't you just come out and say it?

Another thing is how Agnes has some magic powers and this is basically infusing some magical realism into their life stories. Her mother has mysterious origins and Agnes ends up inheriting some of this witchcraft by genes or something, because her mother dies in childbirth when Agnes is still a young child, barely out of toddler-hood. There's a magicky vibe throughout the story because of this which, again, I felt like it didn't need to be there. It almost made Agnes feel a bit like “not like other girls”, but medieval witch-style. Perhaps some part of her magic was meant to add to the foreboding and the suspense, since she can see the future and see how people's lives end, she knows that she only has 2 children around her deathbed but she gives birth to 3, but I just felt like the magicky elements took away from the central tragedy somewhat, and clothed it in this wispy ethereal covering. The death of a child is raw and traumatic and indescribably excruciating, and while some parts of the book does some justice to the depth of pain in that grief, I feel like some parts of it felt a bit distracted by the magic.

I'm just also imagining if the real Agnes had read this book, how would she feel if she read her life story but interwoven with some (probably) false magic elements just to make it more appealing to the masses or to give her story more suspense? I'm not sure if I'm describing this well, but it just felt like if I was the woman involved here, it'd seem pretty disrespectful to my story and my grief to weave random fantastical elements just to make my story feel more interesting to a random audience. Sure, Agnes lived 500 years ago and is in no danger of feeling disrespected at this point, but the story of mothers/parents being anxious about their child's health and also the tragedies of mothers/parents having to endure the untimely loss of their children still goes on universally, so I'm seeing it from that perspective as well.

Hamnet will tear your heart out then put it back together again. Maggie O' Farrell offers a new perspective on a time in Shakespeare's life that may have inspired one of his most famous plays. Yet The Bard is a minor character in the novel. It focuses instead on his wife, Agnes, and the events that lead to the tragic early death of their son, Hamnet. The subject is expertly handled with exquisite, gut-wrenching sorrow. With prose that takes your breath away with its beauty and anguish. ⁣Best read slowly, with a cup of tea (or wine!) and a box of tissues at the ready.
⁣

“She grows up, too, with the memory of what it meant to be properly loved, for what you are, not what you ought to be.”

I'm struggling to come up with words that would effectively explain just how Hamnet made me feel.

O'Farrell's writing was so beautifully crafted that I felt like I was submersed into the story as a character myself with how deeply impacted I felt by the events of the story. I found myself taken aback with how I felt like I was grieving along with them. It takes a very talented author to do that and I'm now upset that this is the first work of hers that I have picked up.

I, sadly, am too familiar with loss and the way it was depicted in Hamnet was extremely close to home. Grief affects everyone in many different ways and no one is ever going to deal with it the same as others and this is a perfect portrayal of that.

Hamnet took one small piece of history that is often overlooked, unspoken of or unknown. This is exactly what historical fiction should be.

I can't wait to see more from this author.

I came pretty close to disliking this one. O'Farrel obviously loves prose and dislikes dialog and she regularly falls into the prose pitfall of saying the same thing three times, thrice, in triplicate. And the more I noticed it the more it became annoying, disruptive, unhelpful. At the end of the day, however I loved the story and she is an accomplished author. This is not historical fiction a la Hillary Mantel. This is pure fiction based on a Historical curiosity, but it is a fine tale.

It's been a long time since I cried over a novel, but this one did it for me. Such lovely character development, such a lovely portrayal of the life of a family. Also, the sense of what it's like to live in the context of an epidemic is so strong here. This family, in this context, is more accustomed to illness and death than we are in the 21st century West, but that doesn't make this story less wrenching.

I loved the details of life in a country town in Renaissance England.

An oddity: although the Latin tutor/husband is plainly William Shakespeare, he is never named in the novel. Why not? Every other major character in the novel is named. It seemed needlessly coy.

Otherwise, no reservations about recommending this book, especially if you are feeling numb.

Unexpectedly awesome. It takes a really skilled writer to make the “magical women” trope palatable to me these days, and O'Farrell's characters are alive and vivid. The historical backdrop is handled so well too. Worth reading for the incredibly well researched chapter that follows the journey of a flea carrying plague bacteria across the medieval world.

I enjoyed her writing style a lot. I think Maggie O'Farrell has her way with words. I remember vividly a few moments from the book, the way she describes the feeling of parting for instance, when you know you won't be seeing that person again, how your life's timeline splits into two and things are never the same, while the rest of the world carries on as if nothing has happened.
Other than her writing, I can't say I enjoyed anything else.

Quaint, simple, grief

“She discovers that it is possible to cry all day and all night. That there are many different ways to cry: the sudden outpouring of tears, the deep, racking sobs, the soundless and endless leaking of water from the eyes. That sore skin around the eyes may be treated with oil infused with a tincture of eyebright and chamomile. That it is possible to comfort your daughters and assurances about places in Heaven and eternal joy and how they may all be reunited after death and how he will be waiting for them, while not believing any of it. That people don't always know what to say to a woman whose child has died. That some will cross the street to avoid her merely because of this. That people not considered to be good friends will come, without warning, to the fore, will leave bread and cakes on your sill, will say a kind and apt word to you after church, will ruffle Judith's hair and pinch her wan cheek.” (287-288)

“She grows up feeling wrong, out of place, too dark, too, tall, too unruly, too, opinionated, too silent, too strange. She grows up with the awareness that she is merely tolerated, an irritant, useless, that she does not deserve love, that she will need to change herself substantially, crush herself down, if she is to be married. She grows up, too, with the memory of what it meant to be properly loved, for what you are, not what you ought to be. There's just enough of this recollection, alive, she hopes, to enable her to recognize it if she meets it again. And if she does, she won't hesitate. She will seize it with both hands, as a means of escape, a means of survival. She won't listen to the protestations of others, their objections, their reasoning. This will be her chance, her way through the narrow hole, at the heart of the stone, and nothing will stand in her way.”

It's been a minute since I've cried this hard at a book. I will admit that it took me a minute to really get into this book, the first half dragged a bit for me but once I passed the threshold into the second half, I read the rest in one sitting. Maggie's writing just melts into your skin in ways that few authors have been able to do for me. We've learned so much about Shakespeare and talked of him so much over the years but know so little of his family so this story, though fiction, was a breath of fresh air.

Sometimes I think, “I could write a book.” Then I read a book like Hamnet and it humbles me as I think “I could never tell a story this well.” This book was perfection, the writing - incredible, the story - incredible, the emotions - I felt all of them. The way Maggie O'Farrell captured the grief of losing a child had me SOBBING! During part 2 I had to put the book down because I couldn't read through my tears. Everybody has to read this book once in their lifetime! I'm now on my historical fiction journey.

Caution: There are some spoiler in the first three paragraphs.

It is England. It is 1580. Agnes cares for her three children: daughter, Susanna, and the twins, Judith and Hamnet, at home in Stratford, while her husband works in London, an actor and playwright. Agnes is a healer, and she knows how to help those who are ill or hurt. Then her daughter, Judith, is ill with the plague. Agnes cannot help her, and Hamnet is distraught. He cannot bear to lose his twin.

And then it is Hamnet that is dead, and the family is torn apart, all of them mourning this beloved boy. Agnes is devastated when her husband returns to his work. She can do nothing but deeply grieve the loss of her child.

Agnes is told of a play her husband has written. She is shocked to learn that it is called Hamlet, and she finds she must travel to London to see it.

Maggie O'Farrell constructs the story of the loss of the child of the great playwright and the writing of one of the great playwright's greatest works with the same name as the child. It's a very sensual story, filled with all the smells of the time, and it's a very emotional story, probably the best depiction of the impact of the loss of a child on a mother I've ever read.