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Divide and Rule
Globally famous and yet universally misunderstood – these are the complex and utterly engrossing stories of Britain's royal women behind the public façade. Saints or sinners? Perfect princesses or difficult duchesses? Monarchy’s saviours or its destroyers? They rank among the world’s most famous women – and the most misunderstood. Throughout history, royal women have been sanitised and sanctified by supporters, distorted and demonised by critics, pitted against each other, and misrepresented by the media.
In this extraordinary portrait, journalist Catherine Mayer examines the lives of the central players, and the echoes and parallels that have run throughout history. The stories of Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, Victoria, Elizabeth II, Diana, Camilla, Kate and Meghan uncovered by Catherine Mayer are far more fascinating, poignant, surprising and enraging than any of the myths. Divide and Rule reveals these extraordinary women in all their complexity, charting their achievements, quirks, kindnesses, cruelties and profound influence.
Drawing on key sources, many of whom have never spoken publicly before, this book also demonstrates the ways in which history repeats itself – to the detriment not only of royal women but all of us.
In this extraordinary portrait, journalist Catherine Mayer examines the lives of the central players, and the echoes and parallels that have run throughout history. The stories of Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, Victoria, Elizabeth II, Diana, Camilla, Kate and Meghan uncovered by Catherine Mayer are far more fascinating, poignant, surprising and enraging than any of the myths. Divide and Rule reveals these extraordinary women in all their complexity, charting their achievements, quirks, kindnesses, cruelties and profound influence.
Drawing on key sources, many of whom have never spoken publicly before, this book also demonstrates the ways in which history repeats itself – to the detriment not only of royal women but all of us.
448 pages, Hardcover
Published June 23, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
September 5, 2026
They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. But in this case, you really should. And avoid this one.
I unfortunately looked past the overtly “click bait” dust jacket (not the UK version depicted on Goodreads), which features side-by-side photos of Kate and Meghan framed by neon pink banners displaying the book’s catchy title. The U.S. cover screams celebrity tell-all. But I still hoped to find the feminist analysis of gender politics in the British monarchy that was promised by the author in her promotion of her latest release.
“Divide & Rule” was supposed to be an examination of what the author, Catherine Mayer, dubs: “the patrimonarchy.” But devoid of substantive feminist analysis, it quickly devolves into little more than a recap of tabloid scandals.
Mayer sets out to explore the role royal women play in history and “their critical importance to the institution’s survival.” To do so, she focuses on eight royals: Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, Victoria, Elizabeth II, Diana, Camilla, Kate and Meghan.
Devoting a chapter to each, the book highlights how history repeatedly dismisses royal women as inconsequential. It shows some parallels between some of these women’s lives. But the problem with this book is that it suffers from the author being too close to her subjects.
A former print journalist, author of a biography of King Charles and British broadcast commentator on the royals, Mayer’s contact with the monarchy, by her own account, appears to go beyond typical journalist-source interactions. She doesn’t hesitate to brag about her insider status, divulging the numerous invitations she and her husband received to palace soirées, state banquets, awards ceremonies, an overnight stay at Dumfries House (the 18th Century Scottish estate owned by the King’s Foundation), and even an intimate lunch with the Queen, Prince Phillip and only a handful of other guests.
Nowhere is the author’s bias more evident than in her chapter on Camilla, of whom Mayer proudly claims to be a “long-term acquaintance.”
Mayer waxes poetic about the queen consort, calling her “a rare example of female agency within the patriarchy,” exalting her “poise” as one of her “defining characteristics,” and lavishing her with compliments, such as “warm,” “relaxed,” “more relatable than other royals” and let’s not forget “pretty.” Mayer gushingly writes: “Invert the sexes, and Charles and Camilla’s romance might be a tale told by troubadours; Camilla the courtly hero navigating the fire-breathing dragons of the palace, public and press to rescue her prince from towering loneliness.” It’s damn near hero worship of Camilla. And it’s embarrassing, to say nothing of exceptionally unprofessional for a supposed journalist.
Needless to say, the chapter on Diana included far less positive commentary. Seemingly blinded by her impartiality, Mayer goes on to suggest that it is Camilla — not Diana, not Meghan, nor even Anne Boleyn — who “has suffered more distortions.”
But the problems with this book don’t end there. For a supposed feminist analysis of the monarchy, it was troubling to read Mayer’s references to former Prince Andrew’s involvement with deceased convicted sex offender and pedophile Jeffrey Epstein — too many of which came across as far too sympathetic.
Mayer had the dubious distinction of being the only journalist ever allowed to accompany Andrew on one of his “missions” when he was a trade envoy for the U.K. Such privileged access no doubt contributed to her inclusion of insipidly favorable commentary. At one point apropos of nothing, she giddily notes, “H.R.H.” when applied to Andrew stood for “His Royal Heartthrob.” Like an enamored school girl, she writes of his feigned attempts at self-deprecation: “One afternoon in China, he confided to me that wished he could have been a plumber.” Please.
Yet Mayer does manage to highlight one insightful comment on the collateral damage that results when the misogynistic system pits royal women against one another: “Think how avidly the press reported tensions between royal women,” she writes, “while for years barely interrogating the culture of impunity shielding Andrew.”
Mayer says she hopes her book will encourage readers to stop pitting women — royal or otherwise — against one another. Yet that’s precisely the opposite of what she seems to do in this book, especially when she turns her attention to Kate, who will one day usurp Camilla’s role as Queen Consort.
Camouflaging her attacks by quoting the criticisms lodged by others, Mayer refers to Kate as “an ice queen,” one who is “stuffy and stiff” and “an extremely guarded person.” Lest you think the author confused Kate with Camilla, Mayer then attacks Kate’s “carefully crafted public image,” all the while chalking up Camilla’s remarkable transformation to “media darling” as if that somehow happened organically.
Mayer reserves her most repulsive venom for the video Kate made with William and their children following her chemotherapy, which if you haven’t seen it is so achingly beautiful that it is difficult to watch without welling up. Yet Mayer derisively dismisses it as “counterfeit authenticity.” This from the same delusional author who compares Camilla to a “courtly hero navigating the fire-breathing dragons.” (It was at this point it dawned on me why the author chose a rare unflattering shot of Kate to feature prominently on the cover of her book.)
The only chapter that comes close to providing any sort of insightful critical analysis of the misogynistic palace culture is the one on Meghan. In a rare, refreshingly balanced portrayal of one of her subjects, Mayer notes, “… to dismiss her as unimportant is to miss the problem she embodies. Meghan matters, quite simply, because she is one of the most prominent women in the world.” Later Mayer adds, if we accept the demonization of Meghan, “… we become part of the problem. So too do those who seek to defend her by similar means.”
In assessing Meghan’s impact on the monarchy (as well as its on her), Mayer sorts through all the mudslinging to determine whether Meghan was the victim of a smear campaign propelled by deeply ingrained cultural racism (and/or fighting amongst the royal households to promote their own principals at the expense of others)…OR if Meghan actually was a calculating, narcissistic, volatile aggressor intent on destabilizing the palace. “Vanishingly few humans fit neatly into saint or sinner categories,” Mayer concludes. “The drive to push females into one box or the other renders them caricatures, shorn of the substance granted to their male equivalents.”
Mayer questions whether Meghan was ever really given a proper chance to assimilate into the royal family or if the institution was prejudiced against her from the start. “The very qualities that appeared to give [Meghan] an edge [as a working royal] — her confidence, intelligence, education and experience — put her squarely in that ‘uppity’ bracket,” Mayer writes, alluding to racist attitudes prevalent in the country. Mayer contends the only women who have successfully joined the royal family in the modern age have done so by emulating the Little Mermaid, who as in the Disney adaptation of the fairy tale literally gave up her voice to be with her prince.
Mayer concludes her book with a final chapter on the evils of AI, which fuels fake news and highlights “the vulnerability of an institution gripped by scandal.” She notes it will be up to King Charles and his heirs, the next two of whom in succession are male, to rebuild public trust and rescue the monarchy. “History,” Mayer writes, “suggests that a Queen might make a better job of it.” Unfortunately, Mayer fails to elaborate why a queen would be better prepared to address the problems posed by AI.
None of the royal women featured in this book could be considered feminist trailblazers, with the possible exception of Meghan. Regardless of your opinion of her, there’s no disputing she championed women’s rights years before joining “the” family and continued to do so during her brief tenure as a working royal (Although you’d never know that from this book, which fails to even mention her appointment by the UN as Women’s Advocate for Women’s Political Participation and Leadership). Just by their very existence, these royals shine a spotlight on how women (and their choices) are viewed and treated by society. Sadly this book failed to fully explore Mayer’s intriguing “patrimonarchy”thesis.
The real take-away of this book is the power of narrative — and how important it is for women to claim theirs, whether they be royal or not. Failing to take control of our narrative, it’s left to others (like Mayer) to obfuscate.
I unfortunately looked past the overtly “click bait” dust jacket (not the UK version depicted on Goodreads), which features side-by-side photos of Kate and Meghan framed by neon pink banners displaying the book’s catchy title. The U.S. cover screams celebrity tell-all. But I still hoped to find the feminist analysis of gender politics in the British monarchy that was promised by the author in her promotion of her latest release.
“Divide & Rule” was supposed to be an examination of what the author, Catherine Mayer, dubs: “the patrimonarchy.” But devoid of substantive feminist analysis, it quickly devolves into little more than a recap of tabloid scandals.
Mayer sets out to explore the role royal women play in history and “their critical importance to the institution’s survival.” To do so, she focuses on eight royals: Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, Victoria, Elizabeth II, Diana, Camilla, Kate and Meghan.
Devoting a chapter to each, the book highlights how history repeatedly dismisses royal women as inconsequential. It shows some parallels between some of these women’s lives. But the problem with this book is that it suffers from the author being too close to her subjects.
A former print journalist, author of a biography of King Charles and British broadcast commentator on the royals, Mayer’s contact with the monarchy, by her own account, appears to go beyond typical journalist-source interactions. She doesn’t hesitate to brag about her insider status, divulging the numerous invitations she and her husband received to palace soirées, state banquets, awards ceremonies, an overnight stay at Dumfries House (the 18th Century Scottish estate owned by the King’s Foundation), and even an intimate lunch with the Queen, Prince Phillip and only a handful of other guests.
Nowhere is the author’s bias more evident than in her chapter on Camilla, of whom Mayer proudly claims to be a “long-term acquaintance.”
Mayer waxes poetic about the queen consort, calling her “a rare example of female agency within the patriarchy,” exalting her “poise” as one of her “defining characteristics,” and lavishing her with compliments, such as “warm,” “relaxed,” “more relatable than other royals” and let’s not forget “pretty.” Mayer gushingly writes: “Invert the sexes, and Charles and Camilla’s romance might be a tale told by troubadours; Camilla the courtly hero navigating the fire-breathing dragons of the palace, public and press to rescue her prince from towering loneliness.” It’s damn near hero worship of Camilla. And it’s embarrassing, to say nothing of exceptionally unprofessional for a supposed journalist.
Needless to say, the chapter on Diana included far less positive commentary. Seemingly blinded by her impartiality, Mayer goes on to suggest that it is Camilla — not Diana, not Meghan, nor even Anne Boleyn — who “has suffered more distortions.”
But the problems with this book don’t end there. For a supposed feminist analysis of the monarchy, it was troubling to read Mayer’s references to former Prince Andrew’s involvement with deceased convicted sex offender and pedophile Jeffrey Epstein — too many of which came across as far too sympathetic.
Mayer had the dubious distinction of being the only journalist ever allowed to accompany Andrew on one of his “missions” when he was a trade envoy for the U.K. Such privileged access no doubt contributed to her inclusion of insipidly favorable commentary. At one point apropos of nothing, she giddily notes, “H.R.H.” when applied to Andrew stood for “His Royal Heartthrob.” Like an enamored school girl, she writes of his feigned attempts at self-deprecation: “One afternoon in China, he confided to me that wished he could have been a plumber.” Please.
Yet Mayer does manage to highlight one insightful comment on the collateral damage that results when the misogynistic system pits royal women against one another: “Think how avidly the press reported tensions between royal women,” she writes, “while for years barely interrogating the culture of impunity shielding Andrew.”
Mayer says she hopes her book will encourage readers to stop pitting women — royal or otherwise — against one another. Yet that’s precisely the opposite of what she seems to do in this book, especially when she turns her attention to Kate, who will one day usurp Camilla’s role as Queen Consort.
Camouflaging her attacks by quoting the criticisms lodged by others, Mayer refers to Kate as “an ice queen,” one who is “stuffy and stiff” and “an extremely guarded person.” Lest you think the author confused Kate with Camilla, Mayer then attacks Kate’s “carefully crafted public image,” all the while chalking up Camilla’s remarkable transformation to “media darling” as if that somehow happened organically.
Mayer reserves her most repulsive venom for the video Kate made with William and their children following her chemotherapy, which if you haven’t seen it is so achingly beautiful that it is difficult to watch without welling up. Yet Mayer derisively dismisses it as “counterfeit authenticity.” This from the same delusional author who compares Camilla to a “courtly hero navigating the fire-breathing dragons.” (It was at this point it dawned on me why the author chose a rare unflattering shot of Kate to feature prominently on the cover of her book.)
The only chapter that comes close to providing any sort of insightful critical analysis of the misogynistic palace culture is the one on Meghan. In a rare, refreshingly balanced portrayal of one of her subjects, Mayer notes, “… to dismiss her as unimportant is to miss the problem she embodies. Meghan matters, quite simply, because she is one of the most prominent women in the world.” Later Mayer adds, if we accept the demonization of Meghan, “… we become part of the problem. So too do those who seek to defend her by similar means.”
In assessing Meghan’s impact on the monarchy (as well as its on her), Mayer sorts through all the mudslinging to determine whether Meghan was the victim of a smear campaign propelled by deeply ingrained cultural racism (and/or fighting amongst the royal households to promote their own principals at the expense of others)…OR if Meghan actually was a calculating, narcissistic, volatile aggressor intent on destabilizing the palace. “Vanishingly few humans fit neatly into saint or sinner categories,” Mayer concludes. “The drive to push females into one box or the other renders them caricatures, shorn of the substance granted to their male equivalents.”
Mayer questions whether Meghan was ever really given a proper chance to assimilate into the royal family or if the institution was prejudiced against her from the start. “The very qualities that appeared to give [Meghan] an edge [as a working royal] — her confidence, intelligence, education and experience — put her squarely in that ‘uppity’ bracket,” Mayer writes, alluding to racist attitudes prevalent in the country. Mayer contends the only women who have successfully joined the royal family in the modern age have done so by emulating the Little Mermaid, who as in the Disney adaptation of the fairy tale literally gave up her voice to be with her prince.
Mayer concludes her book with a final chapter on the evils of AI, which fuels fake news and highlights “the vulnerability of an institution gripped by scandal.” She notes it will be up to King Charles and his heirs, the next two of whom in succession are male, to rebuild public trust and rescue the monarchy. “History,” Mayer writes, “suggests that a Queen might make a better job of it.” Unfortunately, Mayer fails to elaborate why a queen would be better prepared to address the problems posed by AI.
None of the royal women featured in this book could be considered feminist trailblazers, with the possible exception of Meghan. Regardless of your opinion of her, there’s no disputing she championed women’s rights years before joining “the” family and continued to do so during her brief tenure as a working royal (Although you’d never know that from this book, which fails to even mention her appointment by the UN as Women’s Advocate for Women’s Political Participation and Leadership). Just by their very existence, these royals shine a spotlight on how women (and their choices) are viewed and treated by society. Sadly this book failed to fully explore Mayer’s intriguing “patrimonarchy”thesis.
The real take-away of this book is the power of narrative — and how important it is for women to claim theirs, whether they be royal or not. Failing to take control of our narrative, it’s left to others (like Mayer) to obfuscate.
September 13, 2026
I enjoyed this book about royal women from Ann Boleyn to The Duchess of Sussex to include Elizabeth I and Ii, Queen Victoria, Queen Camilla, Princess Diana, Orincess Catherine, and the Duchess of Sussex. The central theme is that royal women have historically been sanitized, demonized, pitted against each other, while being misrepresented by media, contemporary and historical accounts and public narratives. Nevertheless, the royal women profiles have played decisive, complex roles in the survival and shaping of the monarchy, despite being targets or scapegoats -their force of will or particular gifts and talents forged new ground and solidified the institution while changing it in unique ways. Mayer’s account of the Duchess of Sussex and her challenges with the monarchy is perhaps the best and most balanced explanation I have read about her.
September 6, 2026
A enjoyable book, but not what I expected. I had expected a biography of the royal women, instead it was a more feminist view of these women and how History has convinced us to look at them through the male gaze.
While it hasn't much altered my views, it still gave me pause to think.
While it hasn't much altered my views, it still gave me pause to think.
August 6, 2026
A fair and balanced account of what these women had to deal with, by someone who knows.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews