Philippa Gregory

The Other Boleyn Girl

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Fabulous historical by No. 1 bestseller Philippa Gregory, the queen of Tudor novels.
Politics and passion are inextricably bound together in this compelling novel of the Tudor court.
The Boleyn family is keen to rise through the ranks of society, and what better way to attract the attention of the most powerful in the land than through the charms of one of the daughters, Mary Boleyn, at court? But Mary becomes the king’s mistress at a time of change. He desperately needs an heir.
When Mary’s sister Anne catches the king’s eye, she won’t agree to be his mistress – only his wife. What happens next is common knowledge – but here it is told in a way we’ve never heard it before, with all of Philippa Gregory’s characteristic perceptiveness, backed by meticulous historical research and superb storytelling skills.
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737 printed pages


    megustasbananashared an impression3 years ago
    👎Give This a Miss
    💩Utter Crap

    It's the most fucked up book I've read. The king date her girlfriend's sister at the same time. Gosh :( How I wish I can took back the time I've wasted on this book

    Nilanee VSshared an impression4 years ago
    👍Worth reading
    🔮Hidden Depths

    Mary's thoughts are revealing... Brilliant book!

    b3090575012shared an impressionlast month
    👍Worth reading


    rachaelyoung281has quoted3 years ago
    matter. Rest assured, my daughter in Christ, I will be careful
    Uditha Jithhas quoted3 years ago
    The little faraway figure turned to his confessor. He bowed his head for a blessing and kissed the rosary. He knelt before the block and clasped it in both hands. I wondered what it must be like, to put one’s cheek to the smooth waxed wood, to smell the warm wind coming off the river, to hear, overhead, the cry of seagulls. Even knowing as he did that this was a masque and not the real thing, it must be odd for Uncle to put his head down and know that the executioner was standing behind.
    Betül Ertaş Gümüşçühas quoted4 years ago
    grand young lady of fifteen years and threw out her arms to me.
    ‘You’re taller,’ she said breathlessly, her arms tight around me, her cheek pressed to mine.
    ‘I’ve got such high heels.’ I inhaled the familiar perfume of her. Soap, and rosewater essence from her warm skin, lavender from her clothes.
    ‘You all right?’
    ‘Yes. You?’
    ‘Bien sur! How is it? Marriage?’
    ‘Not too bad. Nice clothes.’
    ‘And he?’
    ‘Very grand. Always with the king, high in his favour.’
    ‘Have you done it?’
    ‘Yes, ages ago.’
    ‘Did it hurt?’
    ‘Very much.’
    She pulled back to read

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