Michael Jecks's Blog, page 6

Review: SHIELD OF THE RISING SUN, by Adam Lofthouse, published by Lume Books

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ISBN: 978 1 83901197 9

I am writing this in a room in a hotel in Auckland, New Zealand.

Outside the weather looks bright and clear, with clouds thinly covering the skies. In here it’s warm and not humid, and the room is in many ways a typical conference centre type of bedroom.

However, there is nothing usual about this place. It is a quarantine centre. Two brothers and I are in isolation before we can be released into New Zealand proper.

Two weeks ago our oldest brother was diagnosed with a cancer that is incurable. It was a staggering blow to all four of us – we have always been very close, and the idea of our number shrinking has been dreadful. So we arranged the relevant papers and flew out to New Zealand, here to remain in an isolation centre for at least two weeks.

I do not say all this in some desire for sympathy, but to explain that I am not, probably, in the very best mental state for relaxation and enjoyment of a new book. My mind is, not unnaturally, focused  on other matters.

So, to the story.

Shield of the Rising Sun is a book that requires a little concentration. It is a very interesting approach to a complicated story, because this is effectively several stories rolled into one. The (sort of) present day, and thus present tense story of Faustus, and also the stories of his father Albinus and their friend the frumentarius, or spy, Clavus.

We are therefore presented with three different timelines, which makes it sound a great deal more complicated than it really is.

Albinus is a centurion in the army, who is commanded by Marcus Aurelius to protect his son Commodus.

Now I should state here and now that my own education about Roman history is basically formed by the literature of Ben Kane and Anthony Riches, with the sweeping tale of Gladiator thrown in for good measure. That film was based on the very end of Marcus Aurelius’s life,  of the beginning of Commodus’s reign (and the end of it, I guess), and there is little of that in this book. Rather, this hinges on the plots to remove the Emperor and replace him with one or another of pretenders to the throne before Commodus reached it himself. It is a story told from the perspective of Albinus and then the other two.

For those who like the period, who enjoy the mix of politics and casual violence inherent in Roman culture, this will grip. The battle scenes are well-written, the derring-do of the sections with the frumentarii will appeal to many, and the more modern sections with Faustus (set in 193 AD rather than the 172-175 AD of Albinus) are also interesting.

However, I have to say that, while the whole story gelled quite well, I did put the book down with a certain sense of having missed something. 

I believe, although I’m not sure, that this is the final book in a series. There are constant references to Albinus’s wife, to an incident in which Faustus was attacked, and during which his adoptive mother and brother were killed. This is a bit of a recurring theme, as are mysterious stories of how Faustus’s mother, Albinus’s wife, disappeared, and how Albinus was bereft without her.

Now I love a good mystery, but the strong indication here is that the whole tale is told in previous books – and that makes the witholding of the mystery difficult to swallow. After all, if you have read previous books in the series, you will know what is being spoken about; if you haven’t read the previous stories, these hints become a little annoying. 

But, as I said at the outset, these are not the best times for me to review a book. My mind is on other things. And yet, surely if a book is to succeed, it must succeed on several levels, and one of the most vital is that of distraction and entertainment. A book should hold a new world between its covers, and if it is working, it should absorb the reader. For me it did not quite succeed – but again, these are extraordinary times for my family and me. So any negative impressions I have must be set against that background.

It does have to be said that I was happy to pick this up while flying to New Zealand, that I was keen to pick it up while in quarantine in New Zealand, and that I missed the characters when I finished it. 

What I liked was the sense of place that Adam gives. I did feel the surroundings in woods in Germany, I felt the sun in Syria, and I smelled the excrement in many of the cities he described. 

There was one main aspect that grated, and that was the 21st century emotions that kept appearing. While I can cope with the behaviour of Faustus, there were many times when Albinus really did read entirely as a modern man. His emotional reactions just didn’t quite ring true for me.

So, a good book, a pleasant read, a diversion, and enjoyable – but there is one thing that I still don’t understand: what has “Shield of the Rising Sun” got to do with anything? 

I have literally no idea.

Review: JOHN HERRING by Sabine Baring-Gould

Praxis Books, ISBN 978 09559517 01 – paperback £12.50

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In these pages I tend to review more modern books, specifically crime – but I am changing. This is a case in point. 

What is different about this book? Well, for one thing, the cover is a fabulous, really fabulous photograph. I have to say that – I took it! I even got the credit inside. 

But this is a different type of book for me. It was written by the Sabine Baring-Gould in 1883, a very strong Victorian gentleman of a deeply religious nature, unsurprisingly, since he was in holy orders. 

I know of him because he was a keen collector of folk music, and there is an annual event (usually) held near here at Lewtrenchard Manor, where he lived, to celebrate his life. But he was also a very prolific writer, and this is one of his stories.

It begins with quite a bang. A terrible accident befalls a coach on the way from Plymouth to Exeter, and it overturns, killing one of the occupants. 

The man himself was wealthy, after many years dealing in diamonds in South America, and he was in the carriage with his beautiful daughter, and a companion who joined them for the journey, the John Herring of the title. The daughter, the Countess Mirelle Garcia de Cantalejo, whose mother was a Spanish aristocrat, is very aware of her position in the world, especially as it compares with the rough and ready folk she meets in Devon and Cornwall, especially the Battishalls, Trampleasures and Trecarrels. 

She is fortunate to have been in the carriage with John Herring, who is a military fellow, and very aware of the duties of a gentleman. 

Unfortunately, she is less lucky in the way that her father’s will has been written. Herring sees to it that she and her father’s body are taken speedily to the nearest habitation, the home of the Battishalls, father and daughter. There they are fed and looked after. But the will is soon discovered – it arranges for her to be “protected” by her nearest relations in England – the Trampleasures. But these are not the sort of folk whom she or her father would have wanted to look to her small fortune of seven thousands of pounds. 

In fact Trampleasure is a wily con man. He makes money by persuading people to invest in his scams, taking their money and keeping it. His latest venture was in a tin mine, a dead certainty, in which he has persuaded Battishall to invest, to the extent that Battishall has now lost everything. His home is mortgaged to the hilt, and Trampleasure holds the deeds. 

When Trampleasure sees Mirelle, and hears of her inheritance, he immediately decides to take it for himself. And she has no choice – not that the unworldly young woman has any wish to contest matters. As far as this innocent is concerned, her father would not have put her in a difficult position, and Mr Trampleasure has her full confidence. 

Matters are confused rather when she meets Trampleasure’s children. The son is a rough, cowardly, bullying sort, very rough and confident, who assumes he can win her affection with boasting. He is wrong. The second, Trampleasure’s daughter Orange, is willing to be Mirelle’s friend until she sees that her lover, Trecarrel, is very tempted by the beautiful guest. That forces Orange to fierce efforts to win him back, and she uses every wile and vicious snubs to hurt Mirelle until she wins back her man. Not that this is the end of the tale by any means. I’ve given nothing much away.

This is a brilliant story, of scam artists, bankruptcy, and the nasty, petty viciousnesses which the “gentle” middle classes could use against each other. The characters are all – not only the leading cast members, but all the individuals who barely gain a mention – beautifully portrayed, with all their vile little insults and cruelties brought out. But it’s more than just a story of middle-class and snobbery. Baring-Gould had a clear understanding of the people. I suppose it’s the nature of the job; a man who was so closely embedded in his community must be fully aware of the natural weaknesses, the greed, and the devastating reality of bankruptcy in Victorian England. 

For all that, there is one other aspect which particularly attracts me to this story, and that is the way that it is so solidly rooted in Dartmoor and the lives of those who lived on it or at its periphery. His descriptions of mining, and of the harsh lives of the peasants who scraped a living, betrays an affection for them, I think. 

Is there anything I didn’t like about it? My only comment would be that the style is slightly Dickensian. Not to the same extent as other books of the period. I think it is as approachable and easy to consume as, say, a Jane Austen. It has the same manner of attacking characters and showing their nastier sides with subtlety and, I would say, charm. It may put off some people, I suppose, but personally I’d say it is well worth reading – it’s worth the slight effort.

In any case, in summary, this is a book that merits reading. It was by turns amusing, delightful and shocking. I really loved it. Fortunately I have other books by Baring-Gould to consume.

Highly recommended.

One word of particular warning: I have seen only copies of John Herring on Amazon which are simple scanned versions. There is no formatting and make for a frankly lousy experience. I would very strongly recommend that you buy the version available from Praxis Books instead! You can order books from the publisher here: http://www.rebeccatope.com/praxis-books/ – or go to your favourite local bookshop, of course!

Full disclosure: I am a friend of Rebecca Tope, who owns Praxis Books. However, this review is based on my own reading of the book – which is why it has taken me a distressingly long amount of time to write this review!

REVIEW: IN THE WOODS by Tana French, published by Hodder

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ISBN 978 1 444 75834 4 Paperback £8.99

If you fancy a copy, here’s a link: https://amzn.to/3i6uFaR

This is a book I read early this year. It was recommended to me while I was on a Smithsonian Journeys tour last October. I was the Smithsonian Expert for the trip, and one of the clients, an excellent lady with an encyclopaedic knowledge of crime and mystery writing, suggested I should read this.

I will talk a little about the book, the story itself, and what I liked about it. However, I will also mention one spoiler at the end of the review, so if you don’t want to read that, feel free to skip the last bit (I’m making it very obvious where the spoiler is, don’t worry).

The back’s blurb reads: “One picture-book summer, three children ran into the woods outside Dublin to play. Only one came out – and he had no memory of what had happened to the other two.

“Twenty years later, Detective Rob Ryan and his partner Cassie Maddox come to the woods to investigate the murder of another child. But Ryan is keeping a secret of his own …” 

So far, so modern crime story. A police officer sort of seeking redemption in this enquiry because (this ain’t a spoiler, it’s in it from the very beginning), he was the one boy who came out of the woods all that time ago. And now he wants to try to achieve closure over that incident (I won’t call it murder, since the children were never found – what, was it two runaways, or an alien abduction?) by resolving this latest one. 

There is a great sense of tension throughout the book. It is, as my agent would say, “edgy”. But I cannot say that the superlatives thrown at the book are justified. Yes, it provides some brilliant characterisation, and the investigation is as good as you’d expect in a crime novel, but the concept of a semi-broken policeman who gradually starts on a downhill, alcohol-fuelled destructive journey which almost costs him his job and causes untold damage to him and his partner is not particularly new. I’ve written about a similar situations myself. Still, Tana French has a good eye for detail, and her depiction of the main characters is very good. 

As to the plot, well, it embraces corruption, child abuse and ticks all the other modern boxes you’d expect. And it does it all very well. 

Overall, did I like it? 

With one crashing irritation (below) yes, I did. I liked the atmosphere, the sense of place, the characters (although Ryan really was a dickhead on many occasions). The investigation I thought was well thought through and twisty enough for this crime writer’s love of the convoluted. And generally it was believable. 

Criticisms – the minor sort. It really should have been edited back a little. It did not need to be nearly 600 pages. Yes, 600 pages. There are quite a few sections that could have done with an editor’s red pen. However, for a book this long, they were pretty rare.

Would I recommend the book? 

Yes, unhesitatingly. It was a very good read. There was a real sense of suspense and I wanted to know what was going to happen and how the two incidents – the disappearances and the murder – were going to be resolved. It was a good read for a few days when I really needed something to turn my mind off. 

So why has it taken over six months to write a review?

…

…

…

**OK – SPOILER COMING!**

…

If you’re still here now, then you only have yourself to blame!

Okay, I said that the book kept me going because of the two mysteries. First was the disappearance of the two children; second was the murder.

The three children, Ryan and the others, walked into the woods. That is the first item on the blurb. Only one came out. All the way through the story, the mystery of the two children’s disappearance is elaborated and reinforced. It is a significant event in the life of the policeman, who had been forced to change his name and go to an English public boarding school to try to escape media interest in his case. It has shaped his life and haunts him still. The two disappeared children are almost additional characters throughout the book.

Often, when writing books, authors come up with these kinds of brilliant scenes or plot concepts. And there is only one golden rule to these brilliant inventions: 

that the damn things are explained.

And that is the spoiler, and the reason for my extreme irritation with this book. Not that the explanation of the disappearance of the two is explained badly. That is forgivable (writers can forgive a lot when it comes to another author’s writing – we’ve been there, after all). No, what is not forgivable at all is the complete lack of any attempt to resolve what happened to those two kids in the woods!

When I say lack, what I mean is, there is no resolution. Nada. Nothing. It is not explained in any way whatsoever. There are supernatural hints (which add to the suspense), but there is no conclusion. At the end of the book I put it down with a feeling of being cheated. It is not too much to expect that a half of the actual plot was just left hanging. Are we to believe that the successful cop at the end of the story was content because he had solved a recent murder, and that absolved him in some way from the event in which he had been somehow (we don’t know because he doesn’t remember) involved?

So, in summary, would I recommend this book? As I said, yes. I enjoyed it all the way through to the end. When I reached the end, I immediately started turning the pages to see if I had missed something. Was there a glaring, but brief, explanation which I had glossed over and whose significance I had missed? Was there a chapter I had inadvertently forgotten? Had my children moved my bookmark just to confuse me? 

No. From looking at reviews on Amazon, not only was I correct to think that the book didn’t deal with the disappearances, but I understand that the future stories in the series don’t mention the event either! I had wondered whether this was a hook to hang the series on, but clearly not. It was only ever a simple device to give an additional angle to the characterisation of a policeman.

And that, to me as a reader as well as a writer is a cop out (yes, pun intended). I would not have expected the book (good as it is) to have passed a serious editor with what is, to me, a very fatal flaw.

I do hate to give negative reviews. Generally I will not. I have mentioned this many times. Authors work very hard to produce their works, which then earn them peanuts – about 12 pennies per sale on paperbacks, for example. A book which I don’t like may well appeal to millions of others, and there is nothing to say that my opinion is any more valid than the views of others. However, Tana is a glowing success, her career is assured, and my complaint will not affect her future income. So, I have to say that I think that the book, while a good read, doesn’t give the basic sense of closure that the reader should experience on putting a book down. 

So yes, get a copy and read it … but be aware of that hole in the conclusion.

Review: NAPOLEON’S RUN by Jonathan Spencer, published by Canelo

[image error] Best historical of the year so far?

ISBN – (e-book) 978 1 80032 073 4 priced £1.99

For a man like me, raised on the classic Hornblower series, and later the Aubrey/Maturin series by Patrick O’Brien, there is a curious inevitability of every so often picking up a book and discovering it is, yawn, yet again a story about the British navy at the time of Waterloo. There really cannot be too much more to say about that period and those men, can there? 

And the invention. I mean, who would think that such adventures could be even remotely believable? Little ships capturing vastly larger vessels, raiding French coastal defences and towns, spying, being captured and escaping …

Except the stories are all true enough. They are, many of them, based on the exploits of a particularly daring and audacious man, Captain Lord Cochrane of the British navy – who also became Vice Admiral of Chile and First Admiral of Brazil. 

Well, here is another of these Napoleonic tales – and it is not one I can yawn at. It was, from the first page, gripping. 

Jonathan Spencer is an authority of Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt and the discovery of the Rosetta Stone, but he is not a writer who lets the history get in the way of a good story. And this is a very good story.

It begins with the worst day of Marine Lt William John Hazzard’s life, when he has been sent into the interior of South Africa to discover who has been responsible for plundering farms and murdering the inhabitants. To his horror he discovers the guilty party is Harry Race, his own cousin, with whom he had grown up. He must catch Harry when he sees him murder a Boer family. But then he learns that Harry’s murders were part of a plan to destabilise the Cape, and in a rage he resigns. 

In case you were worried that this might be a big giveaway, this is only the first nine pages!

From there Hazzard is thrust into politics, spying and the approaching war. It is very accurate in terms of period detail, and Spencer seems to have a very good understanding of weaponry, fighting and the navy itself. 

The main thrust of the story is Hazzard’s search for the woman he loves. She had left home to go on the grand tour, but picked an unfortunate period to do so, as Napoleon rampaged across Europe and down Italy. And now she has disappeared. But meanwhile the French have begun victualling a vast fleet. The Admiralty is desperate to know where this force is to be sent, and must send a reliable man to discover its destination. 

Hazzard is given his own small force, and instructed to do all he might to delay the fleet, and if possible learn where the ships are to be deployed. 

Again, the idea of one man against an armada is the stuff of movies, but it was also what happened in the Napoleonic wars. 

This book has a rich cast of characters who will delight, enthrall and keep you turning the pages to the very end. And then, like me, you will want to have the second in the series immediately. A brilliant, thrilling read, with a new – and very believable – hero. Not to mention Cookie and the other men under his command. 

So far this is my favourite historical novel of the year.

If you would like to see a copy, use this link: https://amzn.to/3mARFm3

Review: A COTSWOLD ORDEAL by Rebecca Tope

Published by Allison and Busby; ISBN: 9780749082680 paperback, price £7.99

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No, I didn’t get this free – I bought it!

I have to start with a personal disclosure – I have know Rebecca for many years, and she’s a good friend. But then again, any author who reviews books will very likely know the author he/she is reviewing, and will more than likely be moderately fond of the person. It is the nature of writing that we all tend to like other authors. 

Okay, so now that is out of the way, who is this author?

Rebecca has made a career out of pleasant, cosy crimes. She has had a mixed career, which has included work in a mortuary, in vets’ practices, as a house-sitter, and other assorted roles. She is a fascinating woman, with a very (as you can tell) broad range of interests, including, now, running her own publishing house, Praxis Books, which concentrates on the wonderful Devon author, the Reverend Sabine Baring-Gould (1834-1924). He was a wonderful story-teller, but also a collector of stories and songs. In fact he has been credited with recording and saving many folk songs from his time, songs which had existed for many years and which without his careful records would probably have disappeared – although it has to be said, he did modify many of them. Any words he deemed too rude for Victorian sensibilities were replaced!

I can happily recommend his works, which are amazing (and show how hard life was for the average peasant), and especially since some of them are lucky enough to be graced by photos of Dartmoor which I took.

Anyway, back to this book.

The Cotswold series follow the career of Thea Osborne and her spaniel Hepzibah. Thea is a house-sitter. She has lost her husband, who died a year before, and is trying to reinvent herself, finding ways to forget her loss. House-sitting is one way to do so, getting herself away from her home and immersing herself in someone else’s. 

But the first attempt was less than successful, since she found herself bound up in a murder investigation. Lightning doesn’t twice, of course, so this one should be a lot better. She looks forward to staying in Frampton Mansell, a picture-perfect English village. What could be more idyllic?

The family seem very pleasant, the house is stunning, and there are chickens and a horse to be looked after while they leave Thea in charge and go wandering Ireland for a break. Thea is delighted with the place.

Until, that is, threatening graffiti is painted on a wall, the pet is run over, and other people seem to dislike the people who live there. Thea has no idea why, but then a body is discovered and she finds herself thrown into another enquiry – was it suicide? Or was it murder?

There are benefits – flirting more or less seriously with Hollis, the inspector, is a welcome distraction. But then her sister appears, asking to stay, apparently preparing to leave her husband and children, and …

Well, there are other subplots. 

This is a wonderful, cosy read, for anyone who enjoys good writing, a plot that doesn’t need the graphic pornography of violence which is so prevalent in modern crime, and for those who like strong characterisation. It helps that Rebecca is writing about areas she knows intimately, and for which she has a strong sense of identity. 

Seriously, I love this and Rebecca’s other titles. I heard only recently that the BBC has decided not to pursue more cosy stories for TV series, because viewers much prefer “edgy” thrillers. That is why Doc Martin is not continuing, apparently. It’s too pleasant and cosy for viewers. 

In the same way many publishers are not taking on any cosy mysteries. In God’s name, why? They are still enormously popular with the reading public, whether it’s Alexander McCall Smith’s books, or the continuing sales of Agatha Christie’s titles. 

If you like cosies, do your bit for their survival. Don’t only buy my books (don’t forget, buy them new or the author doesn’t have an income), but try out Rebecca’s too. You won’t be disappointed! 

If you want to see a copy, please use this link: https://amzn.to/32HR1LF

Review BUGLES AND A TIGER and THE ROAD PAST MANDALAY by John Masters

Review BUGLES AND A TIGER and THE ROAD PAST MANDALAY by John Masters, both published by Phoenix, part of Orion Books

I am indebted today to “English Sailor”, who watched my YouTube video about John Masters (it’s here – https://youtu.be/mc-8fkmntRQ – if you want to see it), and suggested these two books.

It is vanishingly rare for me to find books that really compare with the superb war memoirs of George MacDonald Fraser, QUARTERED SAFE OUT HERE. Fraser was the brilliantly inventive creator of the FLASHMAN series, and wrote his own war memoir as a way of honouring the men with whom he fought in the Burma campaign. I was utterly gripped by that book when I first picked it up, and was unable to put it down until I had finished it. In my opinion, it was one of the best books explaining the reality of life for an infantryman in, as he described it, one of the last great Edwardian armies. If you have not read it, I heartily recommend it – not for its precise historical accuracy, but because it gives such a perfect feel for how soldiers lived, fought and died in those hideous battles against the Japanese. 

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These books are its equal. 

First of all, BUGLES AND A TIGER is the story of Masters’s early life, his training at Sandhurst, and his departure to the Indian army, and his career as a soldier on the Afghanistan frontier. It is a touching portrayal of life in the army, but it is also an affectionate memoir of the Gurkhas, because he was an officer in the 2nd Battalion, 4th Prince of Wales’s Own Gurkha rifles. 

This book tells of the life of an officer of the period, the routine of battalion life, and  the life of a young man at the end of the colonial era. It is very much a coming of age book, but his coming of age was in a distinct period when everything he knew would soon be changed forever. Not that this book is mawkish. He doesn’t hanker after the past. He joined the army, it would appear, because many in his family had served in the Indian army – as did so many seeking adventure or riches for two centuries. 

But his own coming of age was not to be spent on the frontier with Afghanistan. He soon became aware of the escalation of hostilities in Europe and the rise of Hitler. He knew this must affect him, and the army had planned for the outbreak of war over many months. At the end of this book war is approaching fast, but Masters was content that his men were ready.

THE ROAD PAST MANDALAY takes us on into the war itself. This is the memoir of his time first in the desert (Iran, Iraq and Syria), and then with the Chindits in Burma, far behind the enemy lines. 

Initially this is a tale of attacks against Vichy French and French colonial forces, closely followed by the consolidation of captured towns, and quick raids in other directions. 

Yes, French. The Vichy French governor of Syria refused to give General Wavell any assurances that the French forces would obstruct German infiltration into the country. Since Syria had borders with Palestine, Iraq and Turkey, as well as the Mediterranean, Syria posed a threat. To prevent Germany from taking over Syria and possibly bringing Turkey into the war on her side, Wavell ordered that Syria must be over-run, in the same way as the British Navy attacked and sank the French fleet at Oran, Algeria, to prevent the German war machine from being able to take it over. 

It is clear that Masters was a good, determined and effective officer, but that he was enormously fond of the men who served under him, and proud to serve with them. The early stages (Book One: Action West) tell of his relationship with his superior officer as well as his men, and it is a gentle story. Yes, there were injuries, but the main thrust of the story was the gradual introduction to serious fighting. 

The next book Changing Course tells how he was pulled from his battalion and sent to Staff College. He was to be trained for higher command. 

But in the third stage of his story the tale takes a harsher turn when it takes us through his three month campaign with the Chindits. 

For those who don’t know of the Chindits, it was one of those irregular groups on which Churchill was very keen. After the (not terribly successful) early days of the Long Range Desert Group, which later was to become the SAS, the idea of commandos and guerrilla fighters became ever more popular – if not with the General Staff, certainly with the politicians and public. Orde Wingate was a man rather in the mould of David Stirling (the man who created the LRDG), but with some character defects that became obvious later. It was Wingate’s idea to send small columns of men deep behind enemy lines to attack communications, resupply, and create alarm in enemy forces. And in this, they were enormously successful, but at a heavy cost. 

Masters was poached to join the Chindits, and was given command of the 111th Indian Infantry Brigade.

The book is a great read because it was written by a fabulous writer. It is well-paced, and gives a brilliant insight into the mind of a commander in war – and it’s worth remembering that Masters was only twenty-nine years old when he was commanding his column. He was clearly an ambitious soldier, but it’s equally clear that his men liked and trusted him. Another book, THE CHINDIT WAR by Shelford Bidwell, which I have on my shelves, quotes “another Gurkha officer, by no means an uncritical admirer, recalls Masters as ‘witty, flamboyant and amusing’, adding: ‘A very good leader, an excellent soldier, loved by the Gurkhas and … ruthless.’”

But this book is not only the story of Masters’s campaign with the Chindits – it is also the story of his falling in love with the woman who was to become his wife – an affair that was frowned upon because she was married. But they were married, and had a happy marriage. 

These two books give a superb insight into the lives of so many people who endured extraordinary times: the men and women who fought or supported the military. But they are much more than that. For me the most astonishing thing is that they give so much information about countries which are still in the news today: Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Syria and Burma – countries which the West is still actively engaged with now. I can only feel that if more of the politicians and military who planned the actions in those countries in recent years had read these two books, they might well have done rather better.

In any case, many thanks to “English Sailor”, and of course these two books are very highly recommended.

Review: THE GOOD LIAR

ISBN: Paperback – 9780241973295

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There are few matters which are more likely, in my household, to cause dissent and dispute, than the selection of a film to watch.

Here we tend not to watch too much television. Correction: my wife and I don’t watch much television. Obviously things are different for our children. They will watch quite a lot – but I don’t know how much, because my son watches much of it on his phone in his bedroom (he’s a teenager), while my daughter has disappeared and lives with her boyfriend’s family. She now regularly updates us on The Chase and Gogglebox, or on the boxed sets of old TV programmes she has just binge-watched.

Personally, since the ten years I spent without television (as a writer, I couldn’t afford a TV Licence, so we disposed of the box in the corner of the room), I have never had any incentive or desire to get hooked on programmes that run to multiple episodes. They invariably grow ridiculous, and then I regret having invested so many hours in something that turned out to be twaddle.

However, my wife and I, and the children, do enjoy films. Just not the same film at the same time. I have been trying to watch the film of this book for some time, and was planning to review both at the same time, but my daughter refused on the basis that she didn’t think her mother would enjoy it.

Censorship by children. It’s a scary life.

Now, since she has left home, I could watch it – except I don’t have access to the same platforms that she has, so I don’t know where I could get a copy to watch. It isn’t on NOW TV, as far as I can see.

So, instead, I’ll write this based solely on the book. Is it worth the read?

Yes.

I admit, I started out with this thinking it was going to be a rather slow, tedious read. The author, Nicholas Searle, was a civil servant, I saw, and that made me wince. There have been many very good writers who gave up a career in the civil service, after all, but I am quite sure that there are many more who didn’t quite manage to make the move from government-speak documents to enticing writing.

Nicholas made the move with ease.

The whole book is told from two main perspectives: from Roy’s, who is an elderly, philandering swindler, out to deprive elderly ladies of their savings, and from Betty’s, an elderly lady who appears quite ready to be fleeced in exchange for companionship in her retirement. From the first she appears quite the easy mark for Roy’s approaches, but she has a shrewdness that surprises him. She will be more effort than he was used to – but she is worth the effort, he decides.

Why would she want to associate herself with a man who is, basically, a con artist? What would she get from him? Why would she want to risk her savings? Why, when she has suspicions about him, would she want to continue any relationship with him?

I know people get worried about being told too much about a story. Let me say that I have barely got to page 14 in the book.

And from here the plot accelerates in a very satisfying manner. We learn that Betty has family, although her husband has died. We know that Roy spends his time searching for exactly this kind of woman, a lonely lady with money. Soon, he feels sure, he will have conquered her heart and can groom her until she trusts him utterly. She has a small fortune in life savings. Enough to keep him content for quite some years. She will be sure to agree to a joint bank account, and once that is arranged, he can be off to the sun, away from her and the cold climate of England.

But there are one or two little problems along the way.

I’m not going to give away more. That is basically the first chapter, first with the two preparing for their meeting, their “first date” based on the computer dating site they both used, and their parting after the date. In the next chapter we start to meet the others involved, Betty’s family, then Roy’s companions. There are several others who work hard to create a thoroughly believable storyline and who fill out both leading characters, giving them a depth that is surprising. They are so entirely convincing, they seem to walk off the page.

But it is not the fact that these two are so convincing that is the thrust of the story. No, it is the plot itself. It is quite straightforward when considered in retrospect, but nothing is as it first appears. When you have finished this book, it is one of those which you want to read again, just to make sure that the plot didn’t deviate and the author didn’t cheat along the way! But he didn’t.

This is a brilliantly realised psychological thriller – not a horror story with blood and guts on every page, but a truly well-thought-through story, full of suspense and dark clues, and with some excellent shocks along the way. As one critic said, it is “a Mr Ripley for our time”.

Highly recommended.

Review: THE GREAT SWINDLE

By Paul Lemaitre (Translated by Frank Wynne)

ISBN: 9781623659035

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I have relied for some years now on two companies, Oxbow Books and Postscript Books (psbooks on the internet), for much of my research material. Both publish a wide range of books that have been discarded by publishers. Rather than see them shredded, publishers sell them ridiculously cheaply to a number of companies and they pass on the reduced price to their customers.

For me it gives me an opportunity to purchase a number of academic books that I could not possibly afford usually. And it is cheaper to buy them than to travel all the way up to London to read them in the British Library.

Usually I will only buy academic titles, but every so often a title grabs my interest – and THE GREAT SWINDLE did.

Pierre Lemaitre has created a wonderful story here. It is not as dark as, perhaps, an American writer would have made it; there are plenty of flashes of humour and a lightness of characterisation that I wouldn’t expect in a transatlantic novel, but the story is no weaker for that – in fact, it makes the story work better, I think. 

Pierre Lemaitre is a crime writer with an international following. His books have won acclaim from the Crime Writers’ Association, and this book (under the original title of AU REVOIR LA-HAUT) won the prestigious Prix Goncourt in 2013.

On the jacket, the main shout-line is “Three men’s lives, rewritten by war”, but it’s a lot more than that. The book is a fictionalised version of true events – the corruption and misappropriation of funds allocated for the exhumation and reburial in military cemeteries of the war dead. It is shocking now to read of the contempt with which the victims of the war were treated after the ‘14-‘18 war.

Lemaitre takes this a step further. 

The book begins in the last weeks of the First World War, with Albert Maillard at the front. We learn that he and the other men do not like their officer, Lieutenant d’Aulnay-Pradelle, who is determined to win his own laurels. Albert and the others didn’t like him. “Because Pradelle liked to charge. He genuinely enjoyed going over the top, storming, attacking.” That was not a trait that his men were likely to respect or like. 

And now, because it was apparent that the war was soon going to be over, the lieutenant was growing despondent. He was going to miss his opportunity. And so, he determined on one last throw of the dice. He arranged for one last sortie to try to ensure promotion. Everyone knew it would be safe enough. The Germans were keen not to exacerbate matters so close to the end of hostilities. So, when two scouts over the top, the French were appalled to hear three shots, and see that the two scouts were killed. 

But Albert passed the two bodies and realised that the two had been shot in the back. Shortly after, an exploding shell buries him, the nightmare feared by all soldiers at the Front. A companion from the platoon sees him fall, and rushes to help him. This man, Edouard Pericourt, scrabbles the soil away and brings him out, just as another shell detonates, and shrapnel horribly mutilates Edouard.

From that moment, Albert and Edouard are bound together. D’Aulnay-Pradelle meanwhile manages to marry well, and soon is a wealthy man-about-town. But Albert doesn’t forget him. 

That is basically the first thirty or so pages. And the book then goes on to look at the appalling fraudulent deals around the war dead, and another brilliantly inventive swindle around the memorials which were being bought all over France in honour of their dead young men. 

This is a fascinating book set during an amazing period, and in which there are no winners. Profiteers from the dead, bankers, politicians, and the shattered soldiers with PTSD, none come out of all this very well. But Lemaitre is a great writer who has an almost instinctive understanding of the weak, poor and defenceless. I found this book oddly compelling; “oddly” because I would usually prefer a less literary style of writing, but I have to admit that this really gripped me. Perhaps because of the superb translation by Frank Wynne. The translator’s work should never be ignored in a work like this – maintaining the author’s vision while still making it comprehensible to a  reader in a different language is a tough job. Wynne did a brilliant job here.

If you want a copy, use this link: https://amzn.to/2RFdkLq

THE GREAT SWINDLE

By Paul Lemaitre (Translated by Frank Wynne)

ISBN: 9781623659035

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I have relied for some years now on two companies, Oxbow Books and Postscript Books (psbooks on the internet), for much of my research material. Both publish a wide range of books that have been discarded by publishers. Rather than see them shredded, publishers sell them ridiculously cheaply to a number of companies and they pass on the reduced price to their customers.

For me it gives me an opportunity to purchase a number of academic books that I could not possibly afford usually. And it is cheaper to buy them than to travel all the way up to London to read them in the British Library.

Usually I will only buy academic titles, but every so often a title grabs my interest – and THE GREAT SWINDLE did.

Pierre Lemaitre has created a wonderful story here. It is not as dark as, perhaps, an American writer would have made it; there are plenty of flashes of humour and a lightness of characterisation that I wouldn’t expect in a transatlantic novel, but the story is no weaker for that – in fact, it makes the story work better, I think. 

Pierre Lemaitre is a crime writer with an international following. His books have won acclaim from the Crime Writers’ Association, and this book (under the original title of AU REVOIR LA-HAUT) won the prestigious Prix Goncourt in 2013.

On the jacket, the main shout-line is “Three men’s lives, rewritten by war”, but it’s a lot more than that. The book is a fictionalised version of true events – the corruption and misappropriation of funds allocated for the exhumation and reburial in military cemeteries of the war dead. It is shocking now to read of the contempt with which the victims of the war were treated after the ‘14-‘18 war.

Lemaitre takes this a step further. 

The book begins in the last weeks of the First World War, with Albert Maillard at the front. We learn that he and the other men do not like their officer, Lieutenant d’Aulnay-Pradelle, who is determined to win his own laurels. Albert and the others didn’t like him. “Because Pradelle liked to charge. He genuinely enjoyed going over the top, storming, attacking.” That was not a trait that his men were likely to respect or like. 

And now, because it was apparent that the war was soon going to be over, the lieutenant was growing despondent. He was going to miss his opportunity. And so, he determined on one last throw of the dice. He arranged for one last sortie to try to ensure promotion. Everyone knew it would be safe enough. The Germans were keen not to exacerbate matters so close to the end of hostilities. So, when two scouts over the top, the French were appalled to hear three shots, and see that the two scouts were killed. 

But Albert passed the two bodies and realised that the two had been shot in the back. Shortly after, an exploding shell buries him, the nightmare feared by all soldiers at the Front. A companion from the platoon sees him fall, and rushes to help him. This man, Edouard Pericourt, scrabbles the soil away and brings him out, just as another shell detonates, and shrapnel horribly mutilates Edouard.

From that moment, Albert and Edouard are bound together. D’Aulnay-Pradelle meanwhile manages to marry well, and soon is a wealthy man-about-town. But Albert doesn’t forget him. 

That is basically the first thirty or so pages. And the book then goes on to look at the appalling fraudulent deals around the war dead, and another brilliantly inventive swindle around the memorials which were being bought all over France in honour of their dead young men. 

This is a fascinating book set during an amazing period, and in which there are no winners. Profiteers from the dead, bankers, politicians, and the shattered soldiers with PTSD, none come out of all this very well. But Lemaitre is a great writer who has an almost instinctive understanding of the weak, poor and defenceless. I found this book oddly compelling; “oddly” because I would usually prefer a less literary style of writing, but I have to admit that this really gripped me. Perhaps because of the superb translation by Frank Wynne. The translator’s work should never be ignored in a work like this – maintaining the author’s vision while still making it comprehensible to a  reader in a different language is a tough job. Wynne did a brilliant job here.

Service, Love, Death and Renewal

Review: LONG WAY HOME by Dan Jarvis, published by Little, Brown

ISBN: Hardback – 978 1 4087 1072 2

I know that in the past I have reviewed George MacDonald-Fraser’s excellent QUARTERED SAFE OUT HERE, which was his memoir of his experiences during the Second World War and the Burma campaign. But just now I cannot think of another book I’ve reviewed which was an autobiography. 

There are good reasons for this. I generally find autobiographies tedious, boring and dishonest. Such books tend to be written by famous people who are attempting to justify their actions. Sometimes, it’s true, they are about people who have endured appalling experiences, but all too often those are ghost-written. And besides, I don’t want to read misery memoirs (not my phrase – that’s an internal publishing description, I was told by a publishing sales rep).

I particularly do not want to read a misery memoir during this lockdown period. Time is too short.

However, I have a policy of not turning down polite requests from publishers when they ask me to review books. And LONG WAY HOME came to me from a very kind marketing woman at the publisher, who asked me whether I would like to read this one. As she said, the author would have been out and about, attending festivals and other events to promote the book, and it would have got a wide readership – but with everyone locked indoors, no festivals, and all bookshops closed, they were finding it really hard to get any traction. 

Yes, I said, I would be happy to take a look at it – I would not give it a negative review because it is my policy to give only positive reviews. Why? If I hate a book, that doesn’t mean it won’t be loved by millions. Take 50 SHADES – I found them utterly unreadable, and more an inspiration towards chastity than titillation. Or the DA VINCI CODE – I tried to read that, I really did, to understand why that specific conspiracy theory from THE HOLY BLOOD AND THE HOLY GRAIL had achieved so much. I thought both books utter twaddle. Or … but you see my point. 

The thing is, books which I detest are still adored by millions, so I can serve no useful purpose by being unkind. And the authors did work hard to write them. So books on my review site here are only the books I really loved. I won’t review books I hate. That doesn’t mean I lie about them; I just won’t put a review up.

The marketing woman was happy with that, and sent me a PDF of the book. So I had to get back to her and explain that I don’t have a Kindle, and cannot read on the screen. I only review books if I receive a hard copy – proof or the publication version. And a few days later this book arrived.

What did I think on looking at it? On the cover was a photo of Dan Jarvis in military costume, probably in Afghanistan, with mountains, helicopters and military 4x4s in the background. A good cover, but on seeing it, my first thoughts were, “Oh, God, another ex-military Member of Parliament trying to show how he’s an interesting past.” So often you see this kind of cover from ex-special forces guys, or from MPs trying to big up some (usually minor) experience outside politics. Basically, my first impression was a sigh. But I had said I would give it a go. Reluctantly I opened it.

The inner cover had a good beginning: “Dan Jarvis is an MP and a Mayor, but this is not a book about politics. It is about service and family – specifically his time as an officer in the elite Parachute Regiment, and the untimely death of his wife Caroline.”

And I was intrigued. I vaguely remembered hearing about an MP who had been in the army and who had lost his wife, but still, it rankles to think that anyone would use his wife’s illness as a means to promote his political prospects. Yes, I’m a cynic.

But I was won over. This is a book that deserves to be read by cynics like me, people who are suspicious about any or every politician. It’s the story of a real guy, a man who decided to try to serve his country (although let’s be honest, he’s also a driven character who was determined to get into politics after his military career). But he wasn’t a part-time warrior, this guy spent time in Kosovo, in Iraq and Afghanistan. He served as ADC to General Jackson – not the easiest man to support – and had a good record, by all accounts. 

This is not really just a story about his time in the army. Yes, a good half or two thirds is spent talking about his time in the military, but the majority of the direction of the book is his marriage. He met his wife in 2000, fell in love, and was soon married. With two children and a good career, they were both very happy, until the appearance of cancer in 2006. Although at first it seemed she would pull through, she died in 2010. This book is the story of their battles, their love, and the ways he formed in order to cope with the absolute despair as she succumbed. 

It is a tender book, a lovely book. And all the more poignant because it was written by him as a memoir. He clearly adored Caroline, and was distraught at her death. Some of the most touching aspects are when he talks about his children, trying to cope with raising them as a single parent – hardly a job most soldiers would be ready for. Touching, yes, but also it shows the core of strength and determination within the man. 

Would I recommend this book?

You will guess, from my initial comments, that I didn’t hate it. In fact, I read half of it last night in one sitting. And thinking about George MacDonald Fraser at the same time, I was struck with similarities and differences. 

Fraser’s book was much more about a single military campaign. He did not talk about family and children: his was purely a memoir of his recollections of a vicious war against an implacable enemy whom he, and his comrades, despised. They had seen the appalling cruelty meted out to their comrades and civilians, and even many years after the war, he would not consider buying a Japanese made TV or car. 

Jarvis’s book is much more nuanced. He was, after all, a much more senior serving officer than Fraser. He talks more about the loneliness of command, about the importance of tactical and strategic planning – and here, I did get a whiff of a new MP distancing himself from past, foolish decisions, but his points are valid and well-made, if a little repetitive – and the importance of team spirit and how to lead. 

I would not hesitate to recommend this book. Not because Jarvis is now an MP, and not because it works very well as a war-memoir – he never describes a battle, for example – but because this is a very human story about love, death and renewal. For those aspects, this should be read by everyone.

Very highly recommended.