That James I let his reign be shaped by his male lovers is both old news and not. Nobody was too shy to observe it in his own time, which was partly why he was nicknamed “Queen James” by his detractors. But censorious Victorian historians suppressed discussion of the king’s romances, to the point where his sexuality is still not common currency. Clear primary sources, not least James’s own letters, are abundant, and they contain a narrative that’s salacious on the surface with fascinating nuances underneath, yet they’re an underexploited resource.
On to this fertile terrain strides Gareth Russell, confidently transferring his book Queen James: The Life and Loves of Britain’s First King to the screen. This is a perspicuous account, gossipy but not prurient, sharpened by modern sensibilities without erasing the mores of the 17th century. Russell, tart when warranted and tenderly empathic when that’s preferable, glints with the knowledge that he has a fabulous story to tell you.
