I’ve been on something of a Macbeth kick this year. For some reason, several authors have written “feminist” retellings of Shakespeare's Scottish play this year, all from the perspective of Lady Macbeth, and I can't be blamed for falling down this particular rabbit hole.
This started a few months back when I was scrolling through NetGalley—an online service which allows library professionals, educators, and online influencers to read books before they’re published in exchange for reviews—and I came across a book by Val McDermid called Queen Macbeth. I had never read anything by McDermid before, and I didn’t really know anything about her other than that she is one of the most well-known modern authors in Scotland, but I knew I liked Macbeth, so I decided to give this book a chance. Dear reader, I wish I hadn’t because it was genuinely the worst book I’ve read this year so far.
Queen Macbeth is told across two alternating timelines, the first, during Gruoch’s (that’s Lady Macbeth’s historical name for those unaware, as I was) marriage to her first husband when she met her soon-to-be second husband Macbeth, and the second, about twenty years later. I’m not sure why this story is told in alternating timelines, though, because the two are not connected in the slightest, and so far as I could tell, there was no plot to this book. Perhaps the alternating timelines existed as a means of hiding that there was no plot. I couldn’t figure it out, and I still can’t.
The second Lady Macbeth book I read was significantly better, if only because it did have an actual plot, and it was generally fun to read, even if it made very little sense at first. In Lady Macbeth, author Ava Reid presents readers with a completely new, never-before-seen Lady Macbeth, replacing the middle aged Scottish leading lady of Shakespeare’s Scottish play with a French teenager named Roscille, also called Roscilla, Rosele, and Rosalie at different points in the story… apparently for the sake of linguistics. As someone with a degree in European history, I understood what Reid was going for, but I thought that it exposed a deep misunderstanding of how medieval and early modern spellings actually worked rather than adding depth and nuance to her retelling as she thought it did.
Roscille is seventeen and the illegitimate daughter of a French nobleman who has married her off to some distant, isolated lower member of the Scottish noble class in order to get rid of her because she is a nuisance. Sometime before her marriage, Roscille was accused of charming a stable boy with witchcraft, and as punishment, she had to watch as her father had the boy executed, and was forced to wear a veil at all times following this incident in order to protect men from her treacherous gaze, something which she wholeheartedly believes in.
When she marries Macbeth, she refuses to remove her veil in his presence even when they are alone, and she also refuses to consummate their marriage until he brings her three very specific gifts that she thinks will be difficult to procure. She is terrified of her husband and views him as brutish and harsh and unpredictable, and thus does everything in her power to avoid displeasing him, including allowing him to pressure her into committing several murders for him (a stark contrast to the OG Lady M, who pressured her husband into committing murder).
This all appears to be a result of her trauma from seeing her father kill the first boy she loved and being forced to wear a veil so she doesn’t accidentally bewitch/seduce anyone else. I thought her belief that she was a witch who needed to be veiled was also a result of this trauma, but no. She actually is a witch.
The first half of Reid's book read like a piece of historical fiction, while the second half was an increasingly bizarre fantasy novel interspersed with random, weirdly-timed sex scenes featuring a fellow Scottish noble's son, who is English in this story for some reason, and who can turn into a massive, powerful dragon (he didn’t do that during the sex scenes, but she did make it very clear she would have been into it if he did).
At no point, though, did any of this book feel like it had anything to do with Macbeth beyond the fact that some of the characters had the same names as characters from Macbeth, and there were three witches who made a few cameo appearances. I generally enjoyed this one, but I didn't like it as a retelling of Macbeth.
The third and final Lady Macbeth book of the year (unless someone else drops another one in the final months of 2024…) for me is All Our Yesterdays by Joel H. Morris. This book is by far my favorite of these three, and one of my favorite books I’ve read this year in general. It is the only one of the three that interprets the characters in a way which, in my opinion, honors the play it was based on.
Where Val McDermid’s Lady hates her first husband for being weak and cowardly and unmanly and therefore, in her eyes, less-than, Morris gives her a backstory which makes her hatred of him make sense, and which equally shows the reader how this Lady has fought for her life as well as her station and how she could become the Lady Macbeth of Shakespeare’s play. Where Ava Reid’s Macbeth was large and brutish and cruel, Morris’s Macbeth is a gentle, softspoken, and somewhat awkward man who tries—not always successfully—to leave his battles on the battlefield, and who loves his wife and puts her comfort and her interests first, which lines up much more believably with the Macbeth Shakespeare created.
Interestingly, Macbeth was referenced in another book I read this year as well: Julia Armfield’s Private Rites, which is actually a retelling of another Shakespeare play, King Lear. From the perspective of Agnes, Private Rites’ Cordelia (Lear’s youngest and most beloved daughter who he cast aside late in life), Armfield writes of the three sisters:
It occurs to her [Agnes] that there has always been one shitty witch in Macbeth, the one that never says anything useful and always just seems to be filling in space between the other two. Most of the time she feels like this witch is Irene, although sometimes it’s Agnes and sometimes it’s all of them, which doesn’t really make sense but still feels fundamentally accurate. (p. 175, UK edition).
The inverse, I think, is fundamentally accurate where these three Lady Macbeth books are concerned: two are just filling space with nothing useful to say, and one is a proper one.