The Commodore

Aubrey & Maturin #17

by Patrick O'Brian

The seventeenth novel in the best-selling Aubrey/Maturin series of naval tales, which the New York Times Book Review has described as "the best historical novels ever written." Having survived a long and desperate adventure in the Great South Sea, Captain Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin return to England to very different circumstances. For Jack it is a happy homecoming, at least initially, but for Stephen it is disastrous: his little daughter appears to be autistic, incapable of speech or contact, while his wife, Diana, unable to bear this situation, has disappeared, her house being looked after by the widowed Clarissa Oakes.

Much of The Commodore takes place on land, in sitting rooms and in drafty castles, but the roar of the great guns is never far from our hearing. Aubrey and Maturin are sent on a bizarre decoy mission to the fever-ridden lagoons of the Gulf of Guinea to suppress the slave trade. But their ultimate destination is Ireland, where the French are mounting an invasion that will test Aubrey's seamanship and Maturin's resourcefulness as a secret intelligence agent.

The subtle interweaving of these disparate themes is an achievement of pure storytelling by one of our greatest living novelists.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical, Adventure, Nautical, Audiobook, War

288 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1994

About the author

Patrick O'Brian's acclaimed Aubrey-Maturin series of historical novels has been described as "a masterpiece" (David Mamet, New York Times), "addictively readable" (Patrick T. Reardon, Chicago Tribune), and "the best historical novels ever written" (Richard Snow, New York Times Book Review), which "should have been on those lists of the greatest novels of the 20th century" (George Will).

Set in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars, O'Brian's twenty-volume series centers on the enduring friendship between naval officer Jack Aubrey and physician (and spy) Stephen Maturin. The Far Side of the World, the tenth book in the series, was adapted into a 2003 film directed by Peter Weir and starring Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany. The film was nominated for ten Oscars, including Best Picture. The books are now available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book format.

In addition to the Aubrey-Maturin novels, Patrick O'Brian wrote several books including the novels Testimonies, The Golden Ocean, and The Unknown Shore, as well as biographies of Joseph Banks and Picasso. He translated many works from French into English, among them the novels and memoirs of Simone de Beauvoir, the first volume of Jean Lacouture's biography of Charles de Gaulle, and famed fugitive Henri Cherriere's memoir Papillon. O'Brian died in January 2000.

The Aubrey-Maturin Series on Goodreads

Reviews

[Darwin8u · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Come cheer up my lads, 'tis to glory we steer
To add something new to this wonderful year:
To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are so free as we sons of the waves."
- Patrick O'Brian, The Commodore quoting the sailor-song "Hearts of Oak"



Captain Aubrey (technically Post-Captain) gets frocked (or the Naval equivalent) and now commands a squadron of ships. This was a temporary rank given to high ranking captains without making them admirals, thus saving the Navy the cost, but still giving the captains the prestige they needed to command multiple vessels. Aubrey and Maturin head to the coast of Africa to disrupt the slave trade, but not before Maturin meets his daughter and discovers his wife has disappeared. The high points of this book is Maturin meeting his daughter (who is considerd slow) and in the final scenes with Maturin is reunited with his wife. From the action side, there is a fleet action at the end of the book that seems like one of those magical juggling acts that only O'Brian can pull off. He throws so many details in the air, and spins and swirls, and keeps them all floating in his narrative that the reader is left amazed that everything doesn't come crashing down.

The book contains a great deal of information about leadership as Aubrey discovers the difficulty in commanding a squadron of captains with various capabilities. There is also several amazing discourses on slavery and the slave trade (something that would definitely have been an oversight if O'Brian didn't cover it before the series ends in 3.5 books). I may be wrong, but the story told about Aubrey's victories during the slave trades broadly resemble the exploits of the HMS Black Joke. Anyway, it was a fascinating bit of naval history and the details were fantastic.

It wasn't my favorite O'Brian, but there is always soul in his books. They breathe and they hurt and they stretch you as you read every one of them. I'm getting close enough to the end of the series that I'm already feeling a bit sad knowing this is the 17 and that there are only 20 (and one unfinished novel). This isn't an unusual feeling, I usually get this way anytime I'm on the backhalf of a work of genius.

[Jason Koivu · Rating 4 out of 5]

Captain Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin return to England after sailing all over the world and nearly getting themselves killed in a wide variety of ways. It's always good to see family again, but trouble at home has them seeking the sea quite soon once more. Jack is made a commodore and given a small squadron to harass the slave trade along the western coast of Africa. This is a partial ruse in order to draw out the French and stop them from getting to Ireland, where they might foment the natural Irish inclination to revolt against their English overlords...

...At least I believe that's how the story goes. Sometimes, if you're not paying super close attention to these books, O'Brian will slip something important passed you. He had a knack for downplaying plot movements and forcing readers to focus on the narrative. A matter of national intelligence might be hinted at in a single line of dialogue and not alluded to again until much later when it influences a character's actions or triggers an event. If you're not attentive you'll miss it and be left wondering, "What was that all about?" O'Brian won't hold your hand and explain.

The Commodore does a lot of "housekeeping". It ties up some long-running plot threads. Also, quite literally, the book spends a good deal of time on domestic matters for our main characters. Jack and Stephen both have trouble with their wives. Stephen also meets his clinically-shy daughter for the first time and contends with her perceived mental deficiency.

There is a good deal of repetition in the description of recurring characters, which one notices when knocking out these books one after another later in the series. By this, the 17th, the reader is quite well aware of who's who, especially with characters who've appeared in three-fourths of the books.

But minor quibbles aside, this is another solid addition to the series. There are a couple tender moments, great character studies as usual and a bit of naval action, a decent mix of all. The story is not as enthralling as previous novels, but if you've read the series from 1 through 16 already, you'll like this one just fine. After all, at this point you're just looking to live in the skin of these characters anyhow, so what's a fan have to complain about by receiving more of what they already love?!

My review of book 16, The Wine-Dark Sea:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

My review of book 18, The Yellow Admiral:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

[Phillip Fuller · Rating 3 out of 5]

Stephen Maturin is spotlighted in this installment of the Aubrey and Maturin series as he travels to take care of personal and professional business in his life. This character is an Irishman who wishes for Ireland to be independent but works for the British that are the lesser of two evils compared to Napoleon. The action in this book was fast paced with a rush from Africa to Ireland to prevent the French from getting a foothold there. The other parts seemed to be dissertation by Aubrey on how to operate a British naval vessel and daily life on the vessel. I would have liked more political intrigue with more naval battles.

[Algernon · Rating 5 out of 5]

once again in his sea-going life he was perfectly amazed and rapt with admiration.

My personal enchantment mirrors that of Stephen Maturin, a landlubber brought to the sea by his friendship with Captain Jack Aubrey of the Royal Navy. Seventeen books after they first met in Malta as young men who shared a passion for classical music, Aubrey and Maturin still have the power to immerse me completely in their world of wooden ships and white sails, of sea battles and matters of the heart.
Like Maturin, I have learned about nautical terms and about the strictures of life aboard a man-of-war, I have marvelled at the diversity and splendour of the natural world, I have survived hurricanes and broadsides, deadly diseases and betrayal by enemy spies.
My one major concern right now is that I am coming slowly but surely to the end of the series and that I will have to say goodbye to these two great friends, eventually.

... delightful sailing, a world to which they had grown accustomed in the vast stretches of the Pacific and to which they returned as to the natural way of life, with all the ship board ceremonies and routines in their due order, as exactly marked by bells as those of a monastery.

Patrick O’Brian’s writing, and his own passion for sailing and for the natural world makes even the most boring days at sea enchanting. Yes, there will be sea battles and danger and adventures in this seventeen instalment of the long-running series, but somehow these aspects of the journey are not the most important ones.
The enduring friendship between these two men, their passion for the world they live in and their irrepressible sense of wonder at what tomorrow will bring still anchors the storytelling better than the actual details of the ongoing battle against Napoleon or the immediate perils of their current adventure.

‘There is no such thing as obligation between you and me, brother.’

Jack and Stephen enjoy a hard-fought-for trust between two conflicting personalities: one choleric and outgoing, the other calculated and introverted. They meet in the middle, with their shared interest in the study of nature and in playing together on violin and cello.
Another important shared trait between the two friends is their wicked sense of humour and their puns, much needed comic relief in an often deadly journey.

Stephen Maturin, an ardent natural philosopher whose interests ranged from cryptogam to the larger mammals, by way of insects, reptiles and birds, above all birds, and who had travelled thousands upon thousands of miles. , is the usual narrator of he novels, his outsider look at ship life and his secret identity as a government spy allowing the author to guide the reader through often obscure nautical terminology and baroque plots and counter plots.

loggerheads: those massy iron balls with long handles to be carried red-hot from the fire and plunged into buckets of tar or pitch so that the substance might be melted with no risk of flame.
We all know the expression of ‘being at loggerheads with someone’, but in this book I have finally a visual image and an example of what two people fighting with the obsolete items mean, thanks to Stephen Maturin having to tend to two injured sailors in his sick bay.

>>><<<>>><<<

“I give you all the joy in the world of your command, my dear: long, long may it prosper.”

I probably should write down something about the actual plot, as little as it counted in the enjoyment of the episode for me.
After a five book journey around the world that actually suspended the passing of time so that the actors can come back to England before the Napoleonic wars ended, Jack Aubrey is offered a new command, in recognition of his talents and of his seniority.
A commodore is just a half-step lower than an admiral: Jack is given a task force of several ships and a mission to sail to West Africa and disrupt the slave trade. A second, secret directive, will lead his force to Ireland where they must defeat a French squadron trying to land an army and start an insurrection on the occupied island.

The most significant aspect of this plot for me is the change of focus away from actual battles, which are mostly taking place off screen, concentrating instead initially on the preparations on land, including fresh sentimental troubles for Jack and Stephen after their long absence, and later on the particular issues for Jack in being responsible for several ships captained by different and troublesome captains instead of taking care of his own ship.
For Stephen, personal life gains new poignancy as he finally meets with his daughter Brigid, apparently autistic and as his volatile wife Diana is once again on the run and missing from home.
It’s all wrapped up nicely in the end, but to get there we will have to learn a lot about the dangers of addiction, yellow fever, abusive captains and traitors in high places.

“These dried brown leaves, gentlemen, come from the Peruvian bush Erythroxylon coca. I do not present them as a panacea, but I do assert that they possess very great virtues in cases of melancholia, morbid depression of spirits whether rational or irrational, and the restless uneasiness of mind that so very often accompanies fever: it brings about a euphory, a sense of well-being far more lucid, far superior in every way to that produced by opium; and it does so without causing that unhappy addiction we are all so well acquainted with.”

Maturin is singing the praise of the miraculous coca leaves he has become addicted to during his circumnavigation of the globe, reflecting probably the sentiment of his contemporaries if not more recent case studies. It is debatable whether his coca habit has weakened or not his body and made him a preferred target for yellow fever, endemic to the African coast at the time, but in the end his fight against the deadly disease is more impactful for me than the carefully planned raids of Jack Aubrey against slavers on the Gold Coast.

‘Not catching, my arse. I seen ward after ward of them die in Kingston, till the very land-crabs was sick and tired of eating them up.’

A welcome relief from both the horrors of the slave trade and from the ravages of the yellow-fever comes in the form of a visit to Freetown, where Maturin meets a kindred spirit in the daughter of the British governor. The play of words between the two is deliberately misleading as to the nature of their relationship:

‘You must certainly come tomorrow,’ she said as they parted, ‘and I will show you my garden and my creatures – I have a chanting goshawk and a brush-tailed porcupine! And perhaps you might like to see my bones.’
‘Nothing could possibly give me greater pleasure,’ said Stephen, pressing her hand. ‘And perhaps we might walk by the swamp.’

It is in these almost passed over details that the richness of the setting and the subtlety of the arguments shine most vividly for me. The carefully constructed speech patterns and the well research period details enhance the experience and sneak in modern themes for debate, like adultery, child care for the introverted, same sex relationships or drug use.

‘Would it grieve you to tell me a little more about sodomy in the Navy?’

Both Aubrey and Maturin are ‘live and let live’ personalities, compassionate and open-minded, until the issues interfere with their mission or with their own moral anchors.
The issue of sodomy becomes a real problem when one of the captains in Jack’s squadron starts playing favorites with the midshipmen, destroying morale aboard his ship and making it unreliable in battle. Like in a heterosexual relationship, the real problem is not the captain’s preferences in the bedroom, but his abuse of a position of power.

Probably my favorite part of this episode that is not about sailing or the natural world, is Stephen’s evolving connection with his daughter Brigid. Ignored by her runaway mother Diana and misunderstood by servants, Brigid is almost feral and suspected of being retarded, which exacerbates the little girl’s sense of alienation.
Contact with another alleged simpleton, Stephen’s Irish assistant Padeen, enables Brigid to come out of her carapace and to start communicating. Her first voyage out completes her transformation into a gracious and enchanting butterfly:

The usual sounds followed their usual sequence – the cable coming aboard, the anchor being catted and fished, the boat run up to the davits; then even a moderately practised ear could make out the sound of halliards in their blocks as the deck leaned over under their feet: the ship was filled with a universal living sound, a vibration.
‘It is moving we are!’cried Brigid.

‘I shall never go ashore’, she replied.

Like Brigid, I will always look forward to sharing the author’s passion for sailing, so well captured within the pages of this long series, equally in a 74 guns ship of the line, or in a small schooner that flies over the waves closer to shore.
I may even forget the details of each book’s plot, but not the friendship that endures between these two remarkable men and not the wonder at the ever changing seascape.

The breeze freshened in the afternoon: they took a reef in the foresail and the main, and the Ringle was filled with that happy sense of making a good passage: ten knots, ten and two fathoms, eleven knots, sir, if you please, watch after watch; and Brigid spent all her time in the bows, watching the schooner rise on the now much longer swell, race down, and split the next crest at great speed, flinging the spray to leeward in the most exhilarating fashion, always the same, always new.

Every good serial episode ends of a cliffhanger of sorts. I don’t need one to push me towards the next book, but I really enjoyed the final scene of ‘The Commodore’ and the return of my favorite feminine lead, Diana, in the life of Stephen Maturin, even as she demands that he remains on shore from now on:

‘Of course you must come to my bed: and you are never to leave it again. Stephen, you must never go to the sea any more.’

[Malacorda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Leggero, ma in senso buono: forse non sarà un punto cardinale o una pietra miliare della serie, ma è gustosissimo come sempre.

Azioni nel Golfo del Benin ma anche lungo le coste d'Irlanda; i protagonisti alle prese con fasi di gelosie e/o incomprensioni all'interno dei rispettivi nuclei familiari; si sfiorano inoltre i temi della tratta di schiavi neri dall'Africa verso l'America e dell'omofobia specie all'interno della Royal Navy: temi suggeriti senza grandi pretese di analisi e senza intenzione di pontificare, qualcuno potrebbe pensare che sono tematiche importanti e che andavano sviscerate più a fondo, ma invece io ammiro grandemente la coerenza e l'eleganza di O'Brian che per scrivere un buon episodio della serie non ha bisogno di scene eclatanti, colpi di scena, effetti speciali, e soprattutto se tratta o suggerisce un tema non ha bisogno di svilupparlo direttamente in capo ai protagonisti principali e cucirglielo addosso come se fosse un vestito, si accontenta di far sì che gli eventi accadano a terze persone, conoscenti e non-protagonisti, e pertanto realisticamente i temi e/o i problemi in qualche caso arrivano solo a lambire i protagonisti e non sempre e necessariamente a scaricarsi su di loro come personalissime nuvolette fantozziane. Ecco, io personalmente apprezzo più questo genere di costruzione che non quello in cui i protagonisti sono sempre e per forza scaraventati in prima linea su ogni fronte.

In verità, mi sono a tal punto affezionata a questi personaggi, da andare letteralmente in ansia quando accade loro qualcosa di negativo o quando incombe su di loro una minaccia. So benissimo che si tratta di un elemento essenziale nella struttura del romanzo che altrimenti risulterebbe oltremodo piatto, eppure a momenti sento il desiderio di leggere semplicemente le loro storie di vita quotidiana, di navigazione e poi di ritorno sulla terra ferma, anche senza gravi scossoni e senza mirabolanti avventure: solo il puro piacere di essere con loro. Mi ricordo che avevo la stessa sensazione quando, da ragazzina, mi ero affezionata alle Piccole donne della Alcott: sentivo la mancanza di qualche capitolo composto di sola quotidianità e ordinarietà. Forse come lettrice attraverso una sorta di fase di regressione.

[Jocelyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

I abandoned Tristram Shandy's light-hearted social commentary for a story with guts. Patrick O'Brian never fails to deliver.*

Jack Aubrey has his first fleet command. Part of the plot revolves around a contrast among the leadership styles of three ships' captains:

1. flog your people until they achieve your standard of perfection;
2. have sex with your favorites;
3. train your team so that they master a rewarding skill (in this case, sailing the ship and working its guns so as to maximize the potential for taking prizes with minimal loss of life).

The results of these three styles:

1. a mutinous crew that is bound to mishandle the ship in a battle;
2. a crew of insiders and outsiders who resent each other;
3. an efficient fighting crew who will follow their captain anywhere.

As always, O'Brian gets the human touches just right. The friendship between Stephen's autistic daughter and his Irish servant; Jack's fractious mother-in-law in her new profession as a bookie; Stephen's unexpected attraction to Mrs. Wood, an amateur naturalist and the wife of the English governor of Freetown in West Africa (Her voice! Her eyes! No, no, my motives are entirely pure. Her hand in mine! No, no, that was affection as for an uncle. Still, I might as well look my best when I visit her tomorrow. . .).

-----
*Unless you happen to be reading The Unknown Shore.

[Jamie Collins · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jack and Stephen return home after a voyage around the world and an absence of years. Stephen meets his young daughter for the first time but does not find the picture of domestic happiness that he wished for. Jack and Sophie are reunited but soon have a falling out over a couple of painful misunderstandings.

They return to sea, Jack having been given command of a squadron and sent publicly to harass slavers off the coast of Africa and privately to intercept a French invasion force. Already disturbed over his private troubles, he has to deal with one barely competent "flogging captain" and another who is destroying discipline on his ship by consorting with young crewmembers.

This book contains one of my favorite passages, where Stephen overhears Jack playing the violin alone and realizes that Jack has long been disguising his musical ability in order to match Stephen's skill level.

[Sherwood Smith]

I generally stop here on my rereads, or at most go on to the next (The Yelow Admiral) through sheer emotional velocity, though less because I like it.

There's a scene in The Commodore in which Stephen realizes he's already told Jack a long, long anecdote about one of his favorite naturalists, and then--being Stephen--goes to apologize for being a crashing bore. Jack is civil and kind as usual, but it's one of those moments that resonate with real experience (if you're a social clod like me) and makes this series so very fine.

Around it we get a sharp sea battle or two, and an interesting look at period attitudes toward gay relationships. I forget if it's Jack or Stephen who observes that what can you expect when a lot of men are confined on a wooden ship for years on end?

Fine moments: Stephen being his remarkable self observing the course of a dangerous bout with yellow fever, and a moment on the coast of Ireland. We get a chance to spend time with Bridget, Stephen's little daughter, and at last we reunite with Diana. A perfect place to stop, for me.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not every Aubrey and Maturin novel contains a plethora of sea battles. There's only one major action in 'The Commodore' and it happens right at the end. Instead, the first half of the book recounts Jack and Stephen's adventures on land upon their return from many years at sea. As the reader has come to expect, things do not go well. Jack almost immediately falls off a horse and seriously injures himself, then argues with his wife, not to mention having serious mother-in-law problems. Meanwhile Stephen's wife has vanished off the face of the earth, leaving the mute daughter he's never met before with Clarissa Oakes, plus one of his nemeses is after him. From this unpromising start things do improve, but the two of them still head back to sea as soon as they can. For spying reasons, and also because it's clearly where they are both happiest (which make the last line of the book rather ominous). As with the previous two installments in the series, this one isn't terribly light-hearted. There are a few moments of amusement via social awkwardness, nonetheless:

"Yes," said Sophie, and she paused before going on, "And there is something on his mind. He is not the same. It is not only the ships and all the business; besides, the invaluable Mr Adams takes a great deal of that off his hands. No. There is a sort of reserve... it is not that he is in the least unkind... but you might almost say a coldness. No. That would be an absurd exaggeration. But he often sleeps in his study because of the paper-work or because he is out late. And even when he does not he gets up at night and walks about until the morning."
Into this most unpromising conversation Stephen could find nothing better to say than "Perhaps he will be happier once he gets to sea," which earned him a reproachful look. Both were poised to say something almost certainly unfortunate when Jack came in from seeing the flag-lieutenant off, the remains of a farewell smile still on his face.

During the voyage that follows, their mission is to disrupt the slave trade and free those captured on slave ships. Views on slavery differ between Stephen (campaigned against it), Jack (opposed, with some ambivalence), and a disagreeable captain in Jack's fleet (pro, family was in the slave trade). Slaves ships are shown in all their cruel horror. Another theme is homosexuality in the navy, as one of the other captains under Jack's command is a 'known pederast' and plays favourites with his subordinates. As a commodore, Jack has become a senior manager whose time is perpetually occupied dealing with these conflicts. He decides the overall strategy of the ships he commands and attempts to get his captains to work together properly. Now that he has reached this senior position, it's all the more clear how valuable and important his friendship with Stephen is. Their companionship isn't impacted by naval hierarchy and accusations of favouritism. Their areas of expertise and skill are totally different, while obviously complimentary, so they talk unusually freely with one another. Both are extremely capable and competent in their own spheres, yet also do some ridiculous and foolish things. One of Stephen's flaws is his fondness for substances, as the reader is reminded in this installment:

Yet he had some faults, and one was the habit of dosing himself, generally from a spirit of inquiry, as in his period of inhaling large quantities of the nitrous oxide and of the vapour of hemp, to say nothing of tobacco, bhang in all its charming varieties in India, betel in Java and the neighbouring islands, qat in the Red Sea, and hallucinating cacti in South America, but sometimes for relief from distress, as when he became addicted to opium in one form or another; and now he was busily poisoning himself with coca-leaves, whose virtue he has learnt in Peru.

There aren't as many scenes with wildlife as in The Wine-Dark Sea sea, however there is an enchanting potto:

At about sunset she came out, looking nervous to be sure, as any country potto might in new surroundings, but neither shattered nor terrified. She would have nothing to do with his proffered banana, still less with a finger, but she washed to some extent - a very beautiful creature - and a little before he left he saw one of the far too many local cockroaches walk into her cage. Her immense eyes glowed with an uncommon fire: she paused, motionless until it was within reach, and then seized it with both hands. Yet for eating the animal, which she did with every appearance of appetite, she used but one, and that the left.
"Good night, dear potto," he said, locking the door behind him.

It is sad to contemplate that only three unread Aubrey and Maturin novels remain after this one, as the series creates such a vivid and delightful world for the reader to visit. They make ideal lockdown reading, given the beautifully described settings, endearing creatures, wonderful characters, exciting events, and general immersion in the Age of Sail.

[Clemens Schoonderwoert · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this book in 2009, and its the 17th wonderful volume of the amazing "Aubrey/Maturin" series.

In this tale Aubrey and Maturin will at first return to England, after their exploits in the Great South Sea, with Jack Aubrey a happy man but for Stephen Maturin is a disaster, due to the fact that his daughter is autistic and his wife, Diana, gone.

While most of the tale is played out on land, with castles and sitting rooms in abundance, but when it is necessary to set sail Aubrey and Maturin are ready to go.

At first they are to go on a decoy mission to the Gulf of Guinea to suppress the slave trade, before returning to their ultimate destination, being Ireland.

For it is Ireland that the French have chosen as a place of invasion, and it will be Aubrey's seamanship and Maturin's cunning as a intelligence agent that will do the work for the British.

What is to follow is an astounding tale of seamanship, intelligence, and human emotions that will set this tale on its wonderful course, and all this is brought to us by the author in his own outstanding and authentic fashion.

Highly recommended, for this is another remarkable addition to this tremendous series, and that's why I like to call this episode: "A Classic Commodore"!

[Robert · Rating 5 out of 5]

Though published in 1994 this is the first Aubrey/Maturin novel that I find acknowledges and addresses a lot of the "problematic" aspects of the lionization of the British Navy during the Napoleonic Wars and the sort of society and world trade system it was safeguarding.


Still from the 1997 film Amistad

Yes, Commodore Aubrey is given a squadron to help suppress the oceangoing slave trade off the coast of West Africa, and the appalling descriptions of the squalor in which the human cargo was kept for the lethal "Middle Passage" come straight out of a textbook and are all the more disturbing for it.

Additionally, the same-sex antics of one of Jack's squadron captains provoke a frank and of-its-time while at the same time quite human discussion of homosexuality (at least in men) and why it was considered incompatible with life at sea -particularly when there is a substantial imbalance in power, such as between a commanding officer and the enlisted men-, plus an expression of the usual historical stereotypes about weakness and cowardice, etc., while the more worldly and educated Maturin recalls the examples of Achilles and the Sacred Band from antiquity.

Ideas of race and class are explored, as well, as it is lamented that many potential qualified officers are passed over for commissions as they do not fit the nebulous criteria to "pass for gentlemen", including one from Jamaica who is quite clearly of partly Black heritage.

As though that weren't enough, it also presents some delightful and touching domestic scenes involving Maturin's developmentally challenged daughter Bridgit as well as the Doctor's reflections on how much Jack has grown as a person from the impetuous, prize-crazy young commander of the Sophie to the introspective, curious, responsible officer of the fleet he has become.


It turns out Jack is the much better musician but has been concealing it for years so as not to embarrass his friend. What a mensch.

A much underrated book in the saga, therefore, in my view, and one I cherish all the more despite how difficult it is to confront certain unsavoury historical realities.

[K.M. Weiland · Rating 4 out of 5]

Charming as ever, although featuring one of O’Brian’s more rambling and anticlimactic plots.

[Gavin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pretty slow, but seeing Jack tearing into the slave trade is worth a lot.

Drier it might have been, but not for those who habitually stood on the lowest of the steps on the ship's side, holding on to the entering ropes and pondering until she rolled and the sea rose, soaking him, this time farther than the waist. Stephen came aboard the Surprise dripping, as usual; and as usual Killick, worn thin and old and preternaturally shrewish by the task of looking after both the Captain and the Doctor, a feckless pair with their clothes and their limbs...

—

On the treatment of language delay in young children (not to say autism):

'Am I not to see my own flesh and blood? My own grandniece? Believe me, Dr Maturin,' cried Mrs Williams, her voice reaching its metallic, dominant ring, 'these childish, self-willed, stubborn, obstinate fancies are best dealt with firmly: a good shaking, the black hole, bread and water and perhaps the whip answer very well and at no cost: though to be sure you are a physician and everything in that line is free.'
'I should be sorry to forbid you my house,' said Stephen.'

—

O’Brian has slowly given Jack depth: his bruising by institutions, his mathematical awakening, and

'Now, in the warm night, there was no one to be comforted, kept in countenance, no one who could scorn him for virtuosity, and he could let himself go entirely; and as the grave and subtle music wound on and on, Stephen once more contemplated on the apparent contradiction between the big, cheerful, florid sea-officer whom most people liked on sight but who would never have been described as subtle or capable of subtlety by any one of them (except perhaps his surviving opponents in battle) and the intricate, reflective music he was now creating. So utterly unlike his limited vocabulary in words, at times verging upon the inarticulate'

he was quite remarkably defenceless when it came to dealing with jealousy. It was an emotion he had apparently never known, at least not in its present consuming state, and it was one whose nature and development he scarcely seemed to recognize at all, so that he was unable to call upon intelligence for what help it can bring in these cases.

Stephen was well acquainted with this blindness where health was concerned - 'It is only a lump: it will soon go away' - and affections - 'She has certainly not received my letter. The posts are so slow these days, and very far from sure' - yet even so it surprised him in Jack Aubrey, a much more intelligent man than he seemed to those who did not know him well. With great concern he had watched the progress of the disease, the changes in the atmosphere at Ashgrove Cottage, where Mr Hinksey continued to call with the most unlucky regularity, often appearing a few moments before Jack left, and the beginning of a change in the Bellona. Jack was still very kind to him...

'I had been on the point of unbosoming myself... foolish, discreditable thoughts.'

'I rejoice you did not, brother. The closest friendship cannot stand such a strain: the results are invariably disastrous.'

—

Conversely, Stephen’s wisdom and serenity lessens. The two men are roughly equal stature in their middle years, where in youth Jack was foolish, cockbrained, naive.

[Stephen] had some faults, and one was a habit of dosing himself, generally from a spirit of inquiry, as in his period of inhaling large quantities of the nitrous oxide and of the vapour of hemp, to say nothing of tobacco, bhang in all its charming varieties in India, betel in Java and the neighbouring islands, qat in the Red Sea, and hallucinating cacti in South America, but sometimes for relief from distress, as when he became addicted to opium in one form or another; and now he was busily poisoning himself with coca-leaves, whose virtue he had learnt in Peru.

Stephen's dislike for killing his fellow-men often embarrassed Jack, whose profession it was, and he quickly added 'Of course, that is only the ideal course of events. A thousand things could throw it out

—

One of the many interesting things about these books is the sustained depiction of people who like their jobs, their dangerous, difficult, uncomfortable, highly regimented jobs. Who can’t function very well at leisure, in normal free society, who flee into risky duty.

Another is the sheer number of cockups, spoonerisms, brainfarts and bullshit:

'My [pulse] is one hundred and seventeen to the minute.'
'That is the luckiest number in the world, I believe; a prime number, to be divided or multiplied by no other.'
'You are in the right of it, Stanislas Roche'

(117/3 = 39) These still rule our lives, but at least computers mean that they could be corrected, if we noticed, if we cared.

—

I was surprised at Maturin telling the peasants that Napoleon had converted to Islam - spy and assassin he might be, but I don’t remember him lying before - but it seems that he was just repeating one of Boney’s lies.

[Anton · Rating 3 out of 5]

>checking out a new book
>ask the librarian whether it's Aubrey or Maturin
>she doesn't understand
>I pull out an illustrated diagram explaining what is Aubrey and what is Maturin
>she laughs and says "it's a good book sir"
>get home and open it
>it's Maturin

[Terry · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 - 3.5 stars

This seemed like a rather light entry in the series while I was reading it, though looking back on it a not insignificant number of important events took place. For one Aubrey is made Commodore of a squadron of ships ostensibly being sent to discourage the slave trade in Africa, though with an underlying mission to intercept a fleet of French ships being sent to foment rebellion in Ireland. Before this, however, Stephen finally meets his daughter Brigid who apparently suffers from some sort of developmental disability and, as a result, has been abandoned by her mother Diana. Luckily for Maturin our old friend Clarissa Oakes, now a widow, has been looking after the child and the introduction of the gentle giant Padeen into her life proves to be something of a catalyst for young Brigid. To add to his troubles Stephen learns from his friend Sir Joseph that the highly placed mole for the French in the British establishment has set his sights on Maturin’s destruction, primarily by exploiting his old Irish connections and his recent conveyance of Padeen and Clarissa (un-pardoned convicts from Australia) to England, and the doctor must hustle his family and fortune away from England before everything he holds dear, up to and including his life, is taken from him.

Aubrey must contend not only with difficult orders, but a pair of captains under his command that leave much to be desired: one a tyrant known as the Purple Emperor who appears to have no concept of good seamanship or gunnery and thinks keeping a ship clean and trim is the end-all and be-all of a captain’s duties; the other an excellent seaman who plays favourites (not to mention other bedroom games) with young members of his crew, fomenting dissent and jealousy amongst his officers and undoing ship morale. The African coast proves to be hostile not only due to the slaver ships the squadron must pursue, but perhaps more dangerously due to the disease that lurks on shore.

In the end Aubrey must race against time in the hopes of completing both of his missions and reaching the ostensible French fleet before they can aid the Irish dissidents. This was a good, if not great, entry into the series and looking back it really was full of incident. I found Maturin’s meeting with his daughter to be rather affecting, and it was nice to see Clarissa again. I like the throughline of O’Brian’s tales and the fact that we often revisit old friends from previous volumes, sometimes in unexpected ways. Perhaps the most striking example of this came with a scene that proved to be something rather new as the irascible steward Preserved Killick and Aubrey’s coxswain Barrett Bonden, two of Aubrey’s most stalwart followers, have a secret discussion about their captain’s marital woes due to a misunderstanding between Sophie and Clarissa. While seeing these characters in the background of scenes with the protagonists isn’t uncommon, it was rare to see them getting page time on their own and I’d be interested to see if O’Brian does more of this in future volumes.

[Robert · Rating 3 out of 5]

Having circum-navigated the globe, Aubrey and Maturin have an interlude back in England before setting off to fight the slave-trade off the coast of Africa. These interludes are the weakest parts of this saga, for me; I just get a bit bored quite quickly. But soon enough we're back at sea with Aubrey in command of a small fleet for the second time and then matters fairly whizz along, like a ship clapping on sail, right up to the sky-scrapers. The problems of fleet command present new challenges for Aubrey and Maturin faces new and old family challenges.

A pleasant, competent entry into this series, neither the worst nor the best - and only three more to go!

[Ryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Press on, lovelies. I'm docking a star off the usual four just because I don't feel like there was much action. Normally that's fine, O'Brian's certainly made it work in other books in the series, but if you're going to have Aubrey as a commodore commanding multiple ships (5? 7? I lost count, actually), and taking on a French fleet of ALSO multiple ships, then there needs to be a lot of cannons blasting! And at least two of Aubrey's ships are like, BIG Mamas (tm), ships of the line considerably heavier than anything he's gunned in the past (the 28-gun Surprise throws a broadside weight of I think 300lbs, and the 74-gun Bellona in this book is close to a thousand). And I'm even less inclined to forbearance because I know O'Brian can write a fleet action and have it really pop -- he did it all the way back in The Mauritius Command (#4), and also in HMS Surprise (#3). The Mauritius Command in particular spent a lot of time making clear what the capabilities were of each ship, and the character of their captains. Here I know nothing except the captain of the Thames is a disciplinarian terror, and the captain of the Stately is gay (on which, see below).

The battle : Aubrey's ostensible mission is to wreck the slave trade, which has recently been made illegal. He does this with great dispatch and captures a ton of prizes, though I'm unclear how that works exactly. They burn the ship to the ground, free the slaves (by which I mean, dropping them off on the coast somewhere, where it seems likely they'd be re-enslaved), and then the government pays them a bounty for every person freed, or something? The thing is, these are merchantmen, and Aubrey mostly surprises them (pun intended) in harbor so there's not even a chase to make it interesting. His REAL mission, however, is to intercept a French armada sailing to stir up a rising in Ireland. He does so, but by the time he nabs them they're already in the channel preparing to unload their men, so there's not really room for wind and maneuver. There's a broadside or two, the Frenchman runs for it, cocks aground on a reef, and strikes her colors. The other French ship of the line makes a successful break for it after minimal damage, and then the transports basically just surrender. It's serviceable, but not to the level I've come to expect from the author's action scenes previously.

The scientific : Stephen goes up a river in Africa and sees a bunch of wildlife, especially some kind of tailless lemur(?) that he's super thrilled about. He also meets a lady who loves playing with bones and assembling skeletons, I guess? Anyone else, I'd advise they should maybe run away (and Stephen's married so maybe he should also run away, for different reasons), but if he WEREN'T married I'd say maybe they'd be a good match for each other. He dissects, she assembles!

The relationships : Oof, this is a rough one. The boys are finally home, landing in England, but nothing goes very well. Stephen's daughter Brigid, whom he meets for the first time, is autistic. She does not talk at all at first, until Stephen's assistant Padeen (who speaks lovely Gaelic but barely any English) makes the breakthrough by teaching her Irish. Then Stephen casually says something to Padeen in Irish at the dinner table, and Brigid says something back to him and they bond delightfully and I'm not crying you're crying they're so sweet together.

The downside : there is no Diana. Diana just could not deal with that, apparently, and ran off to God knows where abandoning her daughter to the maid (Clarissa Oakes making a reappearance) to take care of, some time before the start of this book. I do not like Diana as a person, I don't think...but as a character, flawed and high-spirited and usually so sure of herself, I love it. I think it's entirely in character for her to do this (unfortunately), and even when she's making Stephen's life hell there's a core of love there that comes through -- their reunion on the last page of the book is touching. She knows she screwed up, she knows she shouldn't have run off, but also that she didn't know what to do and went into default mode.

In other news, Aubrey & Sophie have a tearing row because he brought her a lovely silk all the way from Malaysia that she made into a gown for dinner, and then Clarissa Oakes shows up in a dress made from the exact same silk (she was getting married in a previous book, she needed a dress, so Aubrey offered some b/c they were on a ship and where else was she going to get anything?). Sophie thinks this is a giant slap in the face and Aubrey is cheating on her, and they may be getting divorced now? Color me highly suspicious b/c the source/witness of this alleged fight is the captain's faithful steward, Killick, who does not have a reputation for sober truthfulness and also likes to exaggerate for effect and b/c it makes him seem more important. So I believe they had a crack-on fight, yes. I don't believe anyone tore rings off fingers and threw them at the other person. We'll see though.

I also have to throw some cautious shade at the fact that one of the captains is gay. This is a hanging offence on a ship in the royal navy apparently, but much like the Clinton-era don't-ask-don't-tell everyone would really prefer to just ignore it and pretend it's not happening rather than have to deal with it in any meaningful way as long as you're subtle about it. The captain, regrettably, is not very subtle. There's some ugly fights about it, and Aubrey condemns it on the grounds that it wrecks discipline (b/c the Captain will obviously favor all his cute boy-toys he's dressed in fancy clothes as his bargemen?), but it's really hard to tell if Aubrey is being homophobic, or O'Brian is. The former would be believable, the latter would be bleh, but it's gray enough that I don't feel totally comfortable making a judgment call one way or the other. Just be warned that your mileage may vary.

The medical / spy work : The spy biz consists of Stephen getting intelligence and knowing where the French fleet is. Not terribly exciting. He also makes some connections on the African coast that tip them to where slavers can be found, which is also not very exciting but it does punctuate the point that successful spycraft almost always comes down to human networks and relationships -- as true today as it was 200 years ago. Stephen comes down with yellow fever, and it sounds a very ugly thing, but manages to pull through. Everyone insists it's not contagious, which is counter to what I had always imagined. Wikipedia tells me that's true, but in the same way that the plague isn't contagious, technically -- it's the intervention of a third party (in this case, the infected mosquito). So a fella catching it ashore and then sailing away with it is unlikely to infect his crew. There's also a brief aside where Stephen conducts some kind of surgery to remove a "stone" from one of the crew, who later dies. That's apparently fairly unusual -- it's been several years since he lost one -- but I'm not entirely sure what to make of it, because of the vagueness of the description. At first I thought it was a hemorrhoid, but there were definite allusions to some kind of abdominal surgery, so maybe not. In any event, Stephen's not perfect (nor should he be, given the time period).

Today's malapropism : Weak tea today, my friends. Nothing direct from Jack's mouth, just a secondhand relay from Stephen about one he had made in the past - "but as Captain Aubrey often says, 'You cannot both have a stitch in time and eat it.'" It's not a malapropism, but Aubrey once AGAIN brings up Stephen's pun from like...book 2, I think? about dog-watches being curtailed/cur-tailed. This feels like the hundredth time, and I think by book chronology this joke was made about ten years ago, but I am sure I would not be out of line characterizing Aubrey as one of those guys who doesn't have a good innate sense of humor and so compensates by constantly dragging out that One Funny Joke they heard years ago (and probably butchering the delivery in the process). Sharp-eared watchers may note a ghost of this habit in the film adaptation, where he cracks the "lesser of two weevils" joke as if it's the most side-splittingly hilarious thing anyone has ever said instead of it being like...a 6/10 joke at best.

17 down (whew!)...only three left!

[Patricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the pleasures of reading a series this long, covering this many years, is that as the characters grow older, so do we. Stephen loses his hair. Jack is constantly battling his weight. They both succumb to dangerous wounds and illnesses. They are jealous over their wives' behavior. They are thoroughly recognizable people, living in the world of the British navy during the Napoleonic wars.

It is time for the men to return home to their families. Sophie is a paragon of wisdom, but shows her temper. The children have the vocabulary of seasoned sailors. Stephen rushes to meet his daughter for the first time. Mrs. Oakes has been raising Brigit and Padeen does the girl a world of good when she is slow of speech.

At Ashgrove, Aubrey's estate, Stephen comes upon Jack in the middle of the night playing the violin brilliantly and realizes that Jack holds back when he plays with Stephen. Later we learn the poignant reason for Jack's melancholy music that night.

After years at sea, many missions accomplished, Jack's disgrace long behind him, he is given the rank of commodore, commander of a squadron of ships, and Stephen as always gathers the intelligence that will make his mission more sure to be successful.

The mission is to stop the slave trade off the coast of Africa. Jack, laboring under his hero, Nelson's, view that without the slave economy, Britain would lose her luster, is not convinced of the soundness of the campaign, and it is a testament to the men's friendship that Stephen who abhors slavery for the crime that it is, does not jump all over such blathering but reasons with him about it. When Jack sees the conditions and squalor first hand, he goes at the mission with greater spirit.

But he would rather be fighting Napoleon, and is spoiling for a sea battle against the French who approach Ireland as a place to foment revolution.

In this book, as in others in the series, we learn of the exotic species under Stephen's study. A potto not to be confused with a potoo is a tiny delicate monkey that could fit in your palm. When Stephen brings it on board, the ship experiences all sorts of luck.

[AJ Nolan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another book set mostly at sea, which I enjoy. This book marks Aubrey's move to a ship of the line, acting as a Commodore of a fleet, very much coming of age as a captain, nearing his advancement as an admiral. He and Stephen are feeling their age a bit, and maturing overall. Stephen also meets his daughter, who seems to be on the autism spectrum, and she is interestingly written. There is also a bit on the dangers of homosexuality in a ship, not out of moral reasons, but more in having a captain repaying sexual favors with favoritism, undermining the overall moral of the ship. This is a delicate area to write, because you don't want to whitewash history and historical attitudes in favor of modern attitudes and understanding, but Stephen and Jack would lose their likeability if they were close minded and bigoted. O'Brian demonstrates a nice balance in this, letting Jack express some ignorance in his evaluation and understanding of sexuality, religion and race, with Stephen serving as a nice counterpoint.

[Lara · Rating 5 out of 5]

CLIFFHANGER ENDING!!! Well, at least, as cliffhangery as these books actually get, which, to tell the truth, isn't very. Also, I actually had to look up an animal that Stephen gets obsessed with in this book, which I don't think's ever happened before (I really like animals, you might not know this about me, ha)! Plus, a main character almost dies, there's marital drama, and Padeen and Brigid are kind of adorable.

P.S. Pottos!

[Renee M · Rating 5 out of 5]

The one with the slave ships.
I really loved this novel. There were very many beautiful and poignant sections. Just the chapters with Stephen and his daughter would have been enough to swallow my heart whole. But so so many other lovely, human, extraordinary moments made this one of my favorites in the series.

[Dan · Rating 5 out of 5]

These books are a lot of things; but mainly they are about naval actions. In this one, the major naval action is described in one page at the end of the book. In a similar fashion, Stephen's two major issues (his main enemy and his running wife) are solved in 1-2 pages at the very end of the book. Nevertheless, the rest still makes this book a great read.

[Greg Strandberg · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book has a jaunty pace and some quick turns. In other words, it keeps things moving and you get through the 300 or so pages pretty fast.

I really have to say that the earlier volumes were the best of the series.

[Theo · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you're this far into the series the star ratings are almost superflous but here we are. We skip over the remainder of the voyage home from the events of the Wine Dark Sea and are straight back into the adventures on land.

Obviously we've been a bit lulled into a specific assumption regarding Stephen's home life from the previous books although I was left with worry both about Diana and Brigid. It turned out the worries I had (which were simply that one or both of them might have died, despite really knowing deep down that wasn't what P O'B would do) were nothing...but then a whole new set of concerns for Stephen.

What I like about these books is how much the author likes to lead us one way then twitch things back. Here we discover the head of the snake of deceit in the British court is too powerful to be lopped off and in fact all the plans of pardons are in disarray. As such this book is mainly one with Stephen, rather than Jack, and his command as the titular Commodore is often the light-hearted background to some dark spy work.

By the end of the story it feels all is well again, but I guess there must be more in store or there wouldn't be another three volumes!

[MG King · Rating 4 out of 5]

When the function’s got reversed gender roles and terribly flawed women… you know I’ll be showing up to the function.

I feel the same way about this book as I did the Letter of Marque— not terribly exciting plot-wise for the most part, with a few exceptions, but the ending was like getting shot with straight epinephrine and then being launched into the sun.

[C.A. A. Powell · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aubrey and Maturin continue their saga. A large part of the story is land-based where Jack Aubrey is not the most perceptive of people. In fact, he is apt to be a bit of a buffoon. Once at sea, he becomes the perfect seaman. Like all of these books, The Commodore is very gripping and a good read.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love how the author adds more depth to Aubrey's character in the last books, subtle details that make him even more interesting, be that his violin prowess or mathematical and nautical papers he writes.

[Bob Mayer · Rating 5 out of 5]

What WEB Griffin did for the Marines, Deutermann does for the Navy. My father participated in the war in the Pacific on board a battleship and a cruiser. This book covers a dark period in the war, when we were on the defensive. Good characters and lots of action. Recommended.

[Nelson · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's been a while (The Mauritius Command, if memory serves) since we've gotten to see Aubrey in the company of other commanders and profit by noting the differences. O'Brian is up to some of his usual tricks in having the different captains stand as symbols of what Jack might have become had he not possessed his particular blend of discipline and camaraderie. Duff, a pederast who sleeps with his favorites, is perhaps the most extreme example of a captain rewarding his underlings to the degree that they become his catamites; whereas Thomas is an inflexible disciplinarian more interested in petty appearances and regulations than fighting or sailing well. Both men are inadequate as captains because of their excesses and much of the novel's drama derives from Aubrey's need to meld them into a proper fighting force in order to carry out his orders. From Maturin's point of view, the drama is nearly entirely domestic: he finally returns home to meet his daughter (seemingly an autistic 'natural' but in fact a delicate and budding girl who needs only the inarticulate supervision of Padeen to begin to blossom into language) who has been left in the care of Clarissa Oakes (from a couple novels back) while his wife runs off to Ireland. There is some minor drama to be found in Aubrey's situation as well, due to his meddling (and now bookie) mother-in-law and mutual (somewhat merited) jealousy between himself and Sophie. Nearly all of this comes right, as it so often does in O'Brian's world. The end is perhaps the most vertiginous in the series to date. O'Brian has often evidenced a quickening of the plot as the pages dwindle, but nothing compared to this. In a matter of a handful of pages, the final decisive naval engagement occurs, and Maturin is, at very long last, reunited with his wife. The scene is absolutely, utterly pitch perfect, and as good as anything O'Brian has done to this point.

[Sid Nuncius · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is now my third time reading through this brilliant series and I am reminded again how beautifully written and how wonderfully, addictively enjoyable they are.

In The Commodore, Jack and Steven’s personal affairs on land are, as so often, in some upheaval, but Jack is appointed Commodore of a squadron to suppress the slave trade off the East African coast and then to intercept and thwart a French squadron sent to raise rebellion in Ireland. It is another gripping and fascinating book, full of detail and with a compelling story.

Patrick O'Brian is steeped in the period of the early 19th Century and his knowledge of the language, manners, politics, social mores and naval matters of the time is deep and wide. Combined with a magnificent gift for both prose and storytelling, it makes something very special indeed. The books are so perfectly paced, with some calmer, quieter but still engrossing passages and some quite thrilling action sequences. O'Brian's handling of language is masterly, with the dialogue being especially brilliant, but also things like the way his sentences become shorter and more staccato in the action passages, making them heart-poundingly exciting. There are also laugh-out-loud moments and an overall sense of sheer involvement and pleasure in reading.

I cannot recommend these books too highly. They are that rare thing; fine literature which are also books which I can't wait to read more of. Wonderful stuff.