This is a book so rich that the reader will not want it to end; mature readers will await volume 3 with the fevered, obsessive excitement and bated breath of the Harry Potter faithful. Yet the story is not new. The tale of Henry Tudor is a history so universally compelling that it has become part of England’s identity myth, the stuff of creepy nursery rhymes (“divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived”). Henry VIII was larger than life, a visionary across religious, philosophical, political, and artistic domains, yet he suffered from escalating marital problems and rising desperation in his search for a male heir. He is no innocent here, despite his bluff informality. Because he is king, others will suffer and die as a result of his narcissism and failures. The story has been repeatedly rehashed in histories, romances, and movies. It is the grandest, most gruesome of marital failures. For yet another historical novel to offer such innovation in recounting the fall of Anne Boleyn—the most controversial of Henry’s queens, mother to Elizabeth I, and the woman for whom Henry chose to separate from Rome and found the Church of England—the power is all in the telling.