I found this book exasperating in the extreme. Mantel's gift for a telling phrase is unsurpassed (black fur that ruffled like feathers, ruby rings like droplets on blood on the king's knuckles, e.g.) but I longed for a red pencil to edit this tome! Mantel's use of pronouns is very sloppy -- how many "he's" can you have on a page or in a paragraph without creating confusion? And without a thorough knowledge of 16th century Tudor life and politics, this book would be unreadable. In spite of Mantel's efforts, Cromwell remains a shadowy figure. The only time I felt I really understood him was when he took exception to someone who said "Butcher, blacksmith, what's the difference? They're both tradesmen." When Cromwell thinks, "but any oaf can cut up beef, but it takes someone with real skill to make a knife or a pot or a suit of armour" is the first and only real insight we have into what makes Cromwell tick. Unlike those reviewers who found the book so gripping they couldn't put it down, I found the book a real slog, and not one I will probably ever read again.