A couple of weeks ago, I gave my graduate students the "you can stop reading when your sources no longer tell you anything new" lecture. Such irony. I am, after all, exactly the wrong person to lecture anyone on this subject: not only did I recently read ninety-nine Victorian sermons at the British Library and forty-five novels about Anne Boleyn, but also (almost even as we speak) I'm now writing a grant proposal to go read more controversial literature for the sermon project. If the works cited page isn't longer than the actual article, I feel as though I've irrevocably disgraced myself . Heck, I'm practically rubbing my hands with glee at all the nineteenth-century religious historical novels I've still got to read for my next book! 
Nevertheless, even I have limits, and Joanna Denny's Anne Boleyn: A New Life of England's Tragic Queen (2006) manages to exceed them. Granted, all I ever intended to do with the book was mention its existence; as I already knew from skimming the reviews, Denny resurrects the post-Foxeite, evangelical Anne Boleyn, and therefore deserves a quick mention. I was hardly going to mention the book without at least trying to read it, though. And...well, I thought David Daniells' heavyhanded sectarianism in the Tyndale biography was wearisome--not to mention counterproductive--but Denny's biography is not exactly the most pro-Catholic text I've ever encountered. It's hard to know what to make of this sort of thing: "Like the notorious Rasputin, the friar [Catherine of Aragon's confessor] was infamous for his sinful lifestyle, a rapacious womaniser who created sexual scandals in the Princess's household. Like many a priest, he was highly promiscuous, working his way through Catherine's ladies" (77) *blink* Come again? I thought I was reading a biography of Anne Boleyn, not an updated Maria Monk. This is a biography in which Catholics (and Catholicism) are very much the enemy, given as they are to slander, dishonesty, "misogyny" (46), and various and sundry types of gross immorality; it's as though one of my Victorian anti-Catholic manuals somehow got mixed up with Denny's manuscript. The evangelicals, of course, all manage to be saints--even Thomas Boleyn, who usually tends to get unenthusiastic press. Moreover, Denny doesn't differentiate between contemporary evangelicalism and its various sixteenth-century versions (which, perhaps, goes along with her repeated analogies between sixteenth-century Catholicism and contemporary Islamic fundamentalism...). For once in my life, I did indeed stop reading.
 OK, that's a slight exaggeration. But only slight.
 Oh, and bad nineteenth-century religious historical poetry, too. Don't forget that.