Child Royal by D. K. Broster
Jul. 5th, 2022 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
regshoeSo I thought it might be nice while on my Flight of the Heron-themed holiday to read another D. K. Broster book, albeit one not itself set in the Highlands. In fact, while this book does feature a lot that's familiar from Broster's usual style, the historical setting is a bit of a change from her usual eighteenth-century ground.
Child Royal (1937) opens at a Scottish country house in the late nineteenth century, where we're introduced to a curious old portrait showing a couple, ancestors of the house's current owner, holding a picture of Mary, Queen of Scots as a child; a visitor asks about this painting, to which the owner replies that he will tell the strange, sad story of these sixteenth-century ancestors and their Queen...
And so the rest of the book follows Ninian Graham, the man in the portrait, whom we meet in 1548 as he returns to Scotland from his life in the French service to visit his family. Events follow, and he ends up accompanying the five-year-old Queen of Scots on her voyage to France, where she is (historically) being sent to keep her safe from the English foe and where she will be brought up alongside the Dauphin of France, to whom she is betrothed, and his siblings. Ninian saves Mary's life when she is attacked by a dog on board the ship; the young Queen is determined to show her gratitude by appointing him to a position in her household, and Ninian spends the rest of the book as Mary's Master of Horse. Here he meets and falls in love with Magdalen Lindsay, Mary's maid of honour (she is of course the other half of that portrait). But things get a bit more dramatic for both Ninian and Magdalen when he meets a mysterious young Frenchman who claims to be his illegitimate half-brother. From here things twist and turn, with all sorts of political drama and royal intrigue, and Ninian and Magdalen's devotion to their young Queen is tested through sore trials indeed.
I don't have a huge amount to say about this book. It's pretty good; I certainly liked some things about it and there wasn't anything I especially disliked, but it didn't grab me the way some of Broster's books do, and I didn't get particularly attached to the characters or become invested in their stories. Really I think my favourite thing about it was, surprisingly, Mary, Queen of Scots herself. Writing child characters has not been Broster's strong point in certain previous books, but I think she did a good job of it here: as the title promises, Mary—between five and eight years old during the book's plot—is both believably childish and suitably royal, in a way that comes across as quite appropriately weird when her royal manner, her awareness of her own position as monarch and the outside facts of her royalty (like the way she receives as her due the absolute and sincere loyalty of devoted and yet sensible royalists like Ninian and Magdalen; or how she's betrothed to the Dauphin of France while they're both children and everyone accepts this as normal) are combined with the basic reality of her childhood. Broster does also indulge in an appropriate amount of commentary and foreshadowing of Mary's historical future, which I liked. Despite the setting being two hundred or so years before her usual favourite periods, there's still a lot of historical detail in there, and I enjoyed visiting the sixteenth-century court setting, though I wouldn't—either fannishly or for real—want to live there. I also thought it was interesting to see something of the earlier history of the Auld Alliance, with all these Scotsmen in the French service and of course the Scottish Queen being sent to France for safety, before the Jacobite context of the eighteenth century gets involved in it.
The main plot as it develops in the second half of the book was, I thought, not so strong. There was certainly potential in the conflict between Ninian and Gaspard, the half-brother, but the drama is spoiled by, I think, the villains being too villainous. Yes, Gaspard shows an amount of horrified remorse over what he does both during and after the terrible deed itself, but this is never actually worked out in his interactions with Ninian in a way that might have led to an interesting relationship and resolution between them, and the way other characters come into things is frustrating. Oh, I said, obviously they can just use that postscript to make it clear they're both innocent—but wait, one of these scheming French nobles cut the postscript off and no one believes them that it was ever there! It's too contrived and not satisfying.
The romance between Ninian and Magdalen is unobjectionable—they're both likeable, it seems like they'll be happy together—but again not particularly interesting. I suspect Broster may have had a bit of a thing for scenarios where a couple are prevented from marrying as soon as they'd like to and the man expresses his frustration about this in an alluringly attractive (?) way—I think this is a bit silly, but whatever. As with Broster's other later books, there isn't really any slashiness anywhere.
So, overall, this one doesn't stand out in quality amongst Broster's novels, but it does stand out for the different setting and interesting ideas, there are certainly things to enjoy in there, and I would recommend it as long as you don't go in expecting something of the quality of her best books. And now I only have two more of her novels, plus one collection of short stories, to go! Next up in order is, very conveniently as I have just acquired a first-edition copy of it, The Sea Without a Haven...
Child Royal (1937) opens at a Scottish country house in the late nineteenth century, where we're introduced to a curious old portrait showing a couple, ancestors of the house's current owner, holding a picture of Mary, Queen of Scots as a child; a visitor asks about this painting, to which the owner replies that he will tell the strange, sad story of these sixteenth-century ancestors and their Queen...
And so the rest of the book follows Ninian Graham, the man in the portrait, whom we meet in 1548 as he returns to Scotland from his life in the French service to visit his family. Events follow, and he ends up accompanying the five-year-old Queen of Scots on her voyage to France, where she is (historically) being sent to keep her safe from the English foe and where she will be brought up alongside the Dauphin of France, to whom she is betrothed, and his siblings. Ninian saves Mary's life when she is attacked by a dog on board the ship; the young Queen is determined to show her gratitude by appointing him to a position in her household, and Ninian spends the rest of the book as Mary's Master of Horse. Here he meets and falls in love with Magdalen Lindsay, Mary's maid of honour (she is of course the other half of that portrait). But things get a bit more dramatic for both Ninian and Magdalen when he meets a mysterious young Frenchman who claims to be his illegitimate half-brother. From here things twist and turn, with all sorts of political drama and royal intrigue, and Ninian and Magdalen's devotion to their young Queen is tested through sore trials indeed.
I don't have a huge amount to say about this book. It's pretty good; I certainly liked some things about it and there wasn't anything I especially disliked, but it didn't grab me the way some of Broster's books do, and I didn't get particularly attached to the characters or become invested in their stories. Really I think my favourite thing about it was, surprisingly, Mary, Queen of Scots herself. Writing child characters has not been Broster's strong point in certain previous books, but I think she did a good job of it here: as the title promises, Mary—between five and eight years old during the book's plot—is both believably childish and suitably royal, in a way that comes across as quite appropriately weird when her royal manner, her awareness of her own position as monarch and the outside facts of her royalty (like the way she receives as her due the absolute and sincere loyalty of devoted and yet sensible royalists like Ninian and Magdalen; or how she's betrothed to the Dauphin of France while they're both children and everyone accepts this as normal) are combined with the basic reality of her childhood. Broster does also indulge in an appropriate amount of commentary and foreshadowing of Mary's historical future, which I liked. Despite the setting being two hundred or so years before her usual favourite periods, there's still a lot of historical detail in there, and I enjoyed visiting the sixteenth-century court setting, though I wouldn't—either fannishly or for real—want to live there. I also thought it was interesting to see something of the earlier history of the Auld Alliance, with all these Scotsmen in the French service and of course the Scottish Queen being sent to France for safety, before the Jacobite context of the eighteenth century gets involved in it.
The main plot as it develops in the second half of the book was, I thought, not so strong. There was certainly potential in the conflict between Ninian and Gaspard, the half-brother, but the drama is spoiled by, I think, the villains being too villainous. Yes, Gaspard shows an amount of horrified remorse over what he does both during and after the terrible deed itself, but this is never actually worked out in his interactions with Ninian in a way that might have led to an interesting relationship and resolution between them, and the way other characters come into things is frustrating. Oh, I said, obviously they can just use that postscript to make it clear they're both innocent—but wait, one of these scheming French nobles cut the postscript off and no one believes them that it was ever there! It's too contrived and not satisfying.
The romance between Ninian and Magdalen is unobjectionable—they're both likeable, it seems like they'll be happy together—but again not particularly interesting. I suspect Broster may have had a bit of a thing for scenarios where a couple are prevented from marrying as soon as they'd like to and the man expresses his frustration about this in an alluringly attractive (?) way—I think this is a bit silly, but whatever. As with Broster's other later books, there isn't really any slashiness anywhere.
So, overall, this one doesn't stand out in quality amongst Broster's novels, but it does stand out for the different setting and interesting ideas, there are certainly things to enjoy in there, and I would recommend it as long as you don't go in expecting something of the quality of her best books. And now I only have two more of her novels, plus one collection of short stories, to go! Next up in order is, very conveniently as I have just acquired a first-edition copy of it, The Sea Without a Haven...
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Date: Jul. 5th, 2022 10:05 pm (UTC)And definitely, the later part of her writing makes me miss her Tragic Homoerotic Friendships a lot. But one of her short stories features a character that feels very queer-coded and has an interesting dynamic with another male character, so that's something! (I don't want to spoil it, but it's a very memorable story!) And overall, her stories are always a good mix of the supernatural and the mundane, while showing her dark sense of humour!
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Date: Jul. 6th, 2022 06:04 pm (UTC)Well, Raymonde and La Vireville, of course :D But yes, after some of her other romances 'likeable and not annoying' is better than it could be, and they had their moments.
And that short story sounds very interesting indeed! Is this one of the ones in Couching at the Door? I am looking forward to seeing more of that side of her writing when I get to it, even more so if the m/m subtextiness comes back even just a little bit...
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Date: Jul. 6th, 2022 06:59 pm (UTC)I knew you'd say that! XD
The story I mentioned is "Couching at the door", which is the first one in this collection! :D
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Date: Jul. 6th, 2022 07:16 pm (UTC)And ooh, that sounds great—lots to look forward to... :D
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Date: Jul. 10th, 2022 01:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 10th, 2022 06:20 pm (UTC)