The Fort

Posted on March 3, 2011 by smellincoffee

The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War
© 2010 Bernard Cornwell
480 pages

It’s the summer of 1799, and Britain’s attempts to restore their wayward colonies to the Crown are not going well. Following the battle of Saratoga, the French and Spanish have declared common cause with the rebels. Though the course of the war has moved to the southern colonies, Britain has seen fit to establish a small outpost at the mouth of the Penobscot River (in what is today Maine) in order to establish a safe harbor for fighting privateers and provide sanctuary for political refugees, particularly Loyalists fleeing persecution.  In response, the Massachusetts and Continental governments have sent a fleet to drive the invaders away. They find the outpost, Fort George, still in the early stages of construction — and scarcely defended, for its commander lacks the men to take even the high bluffs on the river. The Fort begins with the arrival of the British in what they call ‘New Ireland’ and carries through the last weeks of July until the defeated party flees downriver, utterly ruined.

The Fort  is a remarkable departure from Cornwell’s usual approach. Instead of focusing on one central character and have him live through the events of history, Cornwell instead draws on an ensemble cast of historical characters, both American and British (specifically, Scottish soldiers and Royal Marines). His main characters are a generally sympathetic lot, with the exception of the emotionally turbulent Lieutenant Colonel Paul Revere. The Americans tended toward the grumpy, though, and I far more enjoyed the company of General Francis McLean, commanding the fort, and his young ward John Moore — the future Lieutenant-General Sir John Moore.  They were consistently in high spirits despite the presumed certainty of their defeat,  and both possessed a wicked sense of humor that left me looking forward to their viewpoint sections. Cornwell also ties the chapters together with excerpts from historical letters, memos, and other literature concerning the battle — including a legal document indicting one of the book’s characters for disobedience and cowardice, and letters from the ever-pleasant General McLean. Unlike Redcoat, The Fort contains plenty of combat, both on land and on the river. I didn’t realize that there were rivers big enough for frigates to move through — rivers are fascinating areas for battle.

This is a fascinating, generally untold story of the American Revolution:  definitely above average if not Cornwell’s best.

Related:

  • Jeff Shaara’s Rise to Rebellion and The Glorious Cause, his novels of the war. (And speaking of which, his Pacific War novel is due in May….!)
  • Cornwell’s own Redcoat, which focuses more on character drama than combat, but which enthralled me.
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The History of Japan

Posted on March 3, 2011 by smellincoffee

The History of Japan
© 1918, 1947 Kenneth Scott Latourette
282 pages

““Under a Wave off Kanagawa”, Katsushika Hokusai

In Fall 2009 I took a class in Japanese history and enjoyed it tremendously, but given that it’s been well over a year, I figure I’m due for a refresher. My home library carried this slim narrative, which did the trick despite being a bit dated — the most current revision was written in 1946, only months after Japan surrendered and ended the last conflict of the Second World War.

After describing the initial settlement and climate of the Japanese islands (complete with lovely photographs), Latourette begins the long story of the Japanese empire (legendarily declared thus in 660 BCE, around the same time Egypt and Assyria were arguing over who should rule Egypt). It’s remarkable to me that a single institution has managed to survive over 1500 years of history, though largely in an impotent fashion. Japan was more strongly unified under the varying shogunates — military administrations — but emerged as a world power only in the late 19th century, when the warlords were ousted and the Emperor “restored”.  Modernization — and westernization, for the new government formed itself by drawing from various European powers like Germany and France — followed, and Japan shifted from late-medievalism to modernity in scarcely more than a couple of decades, a remarkably dramatic transformation. Japan also pursued economic growth in the tried-and-true way of Europe’s great powers and the United States — invading other people, borrowing their resources, and turning them into markets for goods. This eventually led to war, defeat, and revival — though the book doesn’t cover Japan’s resurgence.

Latourette is a generally fair author, easy to read for the most part. He doesn’t have the patronizing tone I would’ve expected from an author of this period, though his partiality amused me at times. He cheerily reports the ‘peaceful‘ Perry expedition’s role in opening Japan up to the west by saying it was fortunate that this was led by the United States, who had no interests in the Far East.  When writing on the increase of tensions between the United States and Japan, he finally admits the presence of American interests by saying it was the ‘unavoidable result of the force of circumstances’ that the United States happened to be all over the Philippines and Guam. I’m not sure I carry his meaning.  Did a freak storm carry the US Navy all the way across the Pacific where it bumped into the Spanish navy and accidentally threw invasion troops into the islands, where they were trapped for four years?  Did Spain refuse to treat in peace with the United States unless America agreed met them on the field of battle in Manila? Inquiring minds want to know what this unavoidable force of circumstances was.

Aside from that, which elicited more laughter than anything else, the book proved amply adequate (by which I mean it skirted the line between average and above average)  at reminding me of what I’d learned in class previously. Indeed, it supplemented my knowledge because it placed more emphasis on Japan’s rivalry with Russia than I’d witnessed in class, and the author frequently paused in his general narrative to explain how Japan was transforming from decade to decade, economically as well as socially.  It’s thus useful, but dated — and apparently obscure, because I couldn’t so much as find a cover for it.

Related:

  • A Modern History of Japan (Andrew Gordon)
  • Peasants, Rebels, Women, and Outcastes: The Underside of Modern Japan, by Mikiso Hane. These two books were used in my course, along with Kokoro, but that’s a novel. 
  • The Japanese Experience, W.G. Beasley, which I read in preparation for said class.
  • Our Oriental Heritage, Will Durant, which covers the ancient-to-modern histories of India, Japan, and China along with the ancient-era Mesopotamian history.
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These Weeks at the Library (15 Feb – 2 March)

Posted on March 2, 2011 by smellincoffee

The tail end of this month has seen me finally getting around to reading some history, H.G. Wells’ The Outline of History consuming the better part of the week before last. I’ve also been reading from The History of Japan, and finished With Wings Like Eagles, an excellent narrative of the Battle of Britain.  It stands out along with The Revolutionist, a novel of the Bolshevik Revolution and the first thirty years of the Soviet Union.  That marked my first time reading Littell, and if it’s any indication of the kind of quality I can expect, I may dive into his The Company, a history of the CIA,  at some point in the future.  Outstandingly gritty.

In addition, I completed the Typhon Pact miniseries with Paths of Disharmony,   which provides a stunning political shakeup to the Trek  litverse.

Selected Quotations:

…two smart brigs, both armed with fourteen six-pounder cannons and both anchored close to the Warren, flew the Massachusetts Navy flag, which showed a green pine tree on a white field and bore the words “An Appeal to Heaven””.
“An appeal to nonsense,” Saltonstall growled.
“Sir?”  the midshipman asked nervously.
“If our cause is just, Mister Conigsby, why need we appeal to heaven? Let us rather appeal to force, to justice, to reason.”
“Aye aye, air,” the midshipman said, unsettled by the captain’s habit of looking past the man he spoke to.
“Appeal to heaven!” Salton sneered. “In war, Mister Conigsby, one might do better to appeal to hell.” 

p. 21, The Fort. Bernard Cornwell.

Eppler collected his thoughts. “A self-appointed vanguard has come to think of itself as the working class in whose name it speaks. So first the vanguard party substitutes itself for the entire working class, yes? Then the party organization substitutes itself for the entire party, yes? Then the Central Committee substitutes itself for the party organization, yes? You see where it leads? It is inevitable! One day a single dictator will substitute himself for the Central Committee, yes?”   

[…]

Lili, furious, cried, “In the name of what cause do you betray us?”
Eppler smiled tiredly. “In the name of common sense,” he said. “In the name of pure Marxism. In the name of the millions of people who will suffer if this king of communism has his way, yes?” Eppler addressed himself to Zander. “I started to tell you one night when I had a bit too much to drink. You remember, yes? This Lenin of yours is taking communism down the wrong road. No good will come of it. No good at all. He is an elitist, yes? He creates elites. And he — yes? — he is the elite of the Central Committee. He is making footsteps, yes? After him others will folow in his path. The dictatorship of the proletariat will become the dictatorship of a single man.”

p. 76 and p. 147, The Revolutionist. Robert Littell.

Lenin was not amused. “There are no accidents in history, young man,” he said. Suddenly his brow pleated like a curtain. Was he in pain, Znder wondered, or was he thinking about what lay ahead? “There are only leaders who correctly analyze the forces at work,” Lenin mumbled, “and then exploit this knowledge.”
Which was another way of saying, Zander thought, that a revolutionist is someone who gives history a push.

p. 138, The Revolutionist. Littell.

Potentials for next week:
I’m almost done with The History of Japan, and — having finished that volume of Wells which so grabbed my attention — I’ve returned in earnest to The Confessions.  I’ll also be reading Bernard Cornwell’s The Fort: A Novel of the Revolutionary War and (assumedly) another Trek novel, probably Reap the Whirlwind, third in the Vanguard series.

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Top Ten Books Gathering Dust

Posted on February 28, 2011 by smellincoffee

Not every book purchased gets read immediately, despite our best intentions. This week the Broke and the Bookish are revealing the identities of long-term residents of the To-Be-Read piles, stacks, and mountains hiding in their homes.

1. A Man in Full, Tom Wolfe
I only bought this book last week, so strictly speaking it shouldn’t count — but I’ve been “meaning to” read this book for well over a year now, because one of the characters quotes repeatedly from Marcus Aurelius and has been the inspiration for some people to study Stoicism.  I’ve been going to the W’s and pondering this book once a month or so for many months now, and every month I find that the book is still big and is still set in the business world.  Last week I noticed it had been discarded, and so snapped it up.
2. Stiffed, Susan Faludi
I heard about this book in sociology class, specifically in my “Gender Roles and Culture” class….then I saw it in the library’s bookstore and picked it up. I’ve read the first few pages several times.

3. Asimov’s Guide to the Bible, Volume II: The New Testament (Isaac Asimov)

I read the first volume in this series in the summer of 2008, I think, and purchased this in the fall of 2009. Still haven’t gotten around to reading it, but I certainly don’t regret buying it — as with many other rare Asimov books in my collection, the price for finding a copy has risen sharply.  I say carpe diem and buy the books whenever I spy a good opportunity.

4 Marcus Aurelius: A Life, Frank McLynn

Purchased this in the spring of 2010, intending to read it over the summer. Hasn’t happened yet but it will: I’m particularly interested in Aurelius’ philosophical life.

5. Triangle, Isaac Asimov

My used copy was purchased without a dust cover, but this appears to be from the same edition.

Triangle contains the original Empire trilogy. I purchased it in…oh, the fall of 2008, and in the years since I’ve read a third of it. I want to finish the Empire series this year, though, so it may be stricken from the list at some point this year.

6. The Captain’s Table anthology

This book collects…four or five books into one very BIG book. I bought it because at $2, it was a bargain on Amazon. Never read it, though, nor even started to. I would’ve, but last year I started getting back into Trek literature and reading dozens of standalone novels set in the new shared continuity.

7. A People’s History of the World, Chris Harman

I bought this in the spring of 2010, thinking it to be a summer read.  Since then it’s sat on my shelf, though I read the first couple of chapters alongside Will Durant’s Our Oriental Heritage.

8. ….that Michael Crichton anthology containing several novels which I also picked up in the library discard bookstore and can’t even FIND now.
I can’t remember its title, or any of the books in it. But I paid .50 cents for it, and it’s…somewhere in my bedroom, hiding under stacks of books.

9 & 10. Various Isaac Asimov science books.

I bought a dozen or so paperback science texts by Asimov last summer and haven’t gotten around to them yet.  I mostly bought them because I’m an…Asimovophile and seeing several shelves full of Asimov books all arranged in a neat row pleases me. I do intend on reading one of them soon, though — “The Wellsprings of Life”, which I purchased with birthday money.

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Teaser Tuesday (1 March)

Posted on February 28, 2011 by smellincoffee

Marching headlong into spring, this is the first Teaser Tuesday of the month.
…well, it’s Tuesday already somewhere in the world.

“Are you in trouble again? Did you kidnap another world leader when I wasn’t looking?”
“No, but the day’s young yet,” Picard said, pulling down on the front of his uniform.

p. 21, Paths of Disharmony. Dayton Ward.

Combat was physically exhausting for even the strongest of fighter pilots, requiring enormous effort from limbs that were stiff with cold, as well was constant, almost superhuman alertness, split-second reaction to danger, and complete physical indifference to rapidly building g-forces and stomach-churning changes of direction that no fairground ride in the world could have imitated — with your mouth dry from breathing oxygen; your eyes smarting from the fumes of gasoline, oil, and exhaust seeping into the cockpit and from staring into the sun; and the radio pouring into your ears a constant tumult of static, orders, warnings, and awful cries of pain and despair. All this in the knowledge that you were sitting behind (or in the Messerschmitt, in front of and above) many gallons of high-octane fuel that could turn you into a blazing torch in seconds, not to speak of hundreds of rounds of ammunition, while somewhere from above and behind you another nineteen- to twenty-year old might already be swooping down on you from behind the sun to change your role in an instant from hunter to prey and end your life in a burst of fire lasting less than a second. 

p. 65- 66, With Wings Like Eagles: A History of the Battle of Britain. Michael Korda.

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With Wings Like Eagles

Posted on February 28, 2011 by smellincoffee

With Wings Like Eagles: A History of the Battle of Britain
© 2009 Michael Korda
322  pages

“The odds were great: our margins small: the stakes infinite.” – Vice Air Marshal Keith Park, No. 11 Group. RAF.
As far as drama goes, the Second World War is unmatched, for few conflicts in human history have lent themselves so well to stories of good and evil. Following the unexpectedly quick collapse of the French army in May 1940,  Great Britain found itself the lone democracy actively engaged in opposition against the monstrous ego of Adolf Hitler, set to make himself the master of Europe.  The other democracies had been conquered by the Blitzkrieg, Germany’s potent combination of tanks and dive bombers, and the Soviet Union, the only continental power capable of curbing Hitler’s ambitions, had become his accomplice in destroying Poland. Far across the Atlanatic, the United States looked on disinterestedly,  not keen on the idea of being engaged in another European war.  Throughout the summer of 1940,  Britain stood alone — defended by her Navy and her airmen in the Royal Air Force. This is their story.
Though highly complimentary of the airmen — whose character and fortitude stand out — and the Spitfires and Hurricanes they flew,  Korda sees the RAF’s triumph as being the product of sound leadership, both from forward thinking politicians like Neville Chamberlain and its own military leadership, particularly that of Air Marshall Hugh Dowding. Though reviled as an appeaser, Korda is kind to Chamberlaine and sees his leadership as responsible for the establishment of Britain’s “Chain Home” range of radar stations. Dowding is the great hero of Korda’s story, though. As the head of Fighter Command, his gifts for organization and grasp of air strategy allowed him to consistently turn back the Luftwaffe through the long summer, a time of generally clear weather and smooth seas that would pave the way for a German invasion in the event of failure.  Korda hails him for not only guiding the RAF’s fighters through these perilous times, but standing up to the British government, particularly Winston Churchill, when their actions compromised his fighters’ ability to do their work.
With Wings Like Eagles is an excellent narrative history of the Battle, remarkable for its thoroughness and detail. The story begins in the 1920s, covering the evolution of British and German air strategy and advances in airplane design. I had no idea that seaplanes were at one time regarded as the future of military aviation, or that the Spitfire was created from maritime designs. Like Albert Marrin, Korda’s use of detail puts the the reader in the driver’s seat along with the pilots, or inside Bentley Priory where all the information from the RAF’s observation posts and RADAR stations  was channelled and interpreted by Dowding into squadron-by-squadron instructions. Rather than risk all his men in a set-piece battle with the Luftwaffe, he chose instead to force them to underestimate his strength and bleed themselves to death by rushing into apparent breaches again and again. This airborne chess match between Dowding and the Luftwaffe continues throughout the book, ending only in the fall of 1940, when weather conditions marginalized the prospect of German invasion.  Along with his reappraisal of Chamberlain, Korda is also skeptical of Operation Sealion’s threat to British sovereignty. Hitler seemed to be less than enthusiastic about the operation and committed to it only after it became obvious that Churchhill was not about to be replaced by ‘reasonable’ men who were willing to admit to Britain’s defeat. 
I’m quite impressed with With Wings as Eagles: I enjoyed it chiefly in one sitting and think it as appropriate for an undergraduate history paper as it is for a leisurely afternoon read. Korda is generous with book recommendations, another boon for students of the subject. Recommended. 
Related (and Recommended):
  • The Airman’s War, Albert Marrin.  Coverage of WW2’s aerial campaigns from the American perspective.
  • The Luftwaffe: Creating the Operational Air War, James S. Corum. 
  • The Influence of Air Power Upon History, Walter J. Boyne

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Vintage SF Covers

Posted on February 26, 2011 by smellincoffee

A few weeks ago while browsing eBay and looking for history works by either H.G. Wells or Isaac Asimov,   I spotted someone selling six classic Wells works for $6. Not six a piece, six all told.  They’re fifty-cent paperbacks from the 1960s in great condition, and the seller sent me a seventh book just to be nice.  Anyway, being as I an admirer of vintage book covers…


Funny, I don’t recall the Martians landing Robo-Spartans…


Is the isle of Dr. Moreau home to Morlocks?


I don’t know what these books are about, but if this series is consistent, their covers have nothing to do with them. 😉

Depending on your resolution, those pictures will probably glitch into the sidebar, but it doesn’t seem distracting on my monitor.

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Paths of Disharmony

Posted on February 25, 2011 by smellincoffee

Star Trek Typhon Pact: Paths of Disharmony
© 2011 Dayton Ward
459 pages

Andoria hangs over the edge of a precipice, only generations away from extinction. Founding members of the Federation, Andorians are unique in possessing four sexes, all of which are required to produce offspring — a single offspring, for twins are rare to the point of nonexistence. Such an arrangement makes it difficult for the population to maintain its own numbers, and they have been in steep decline for decades.  If trends continue, the population will vanish.The crisis has been a long time coming, appearing first in the Deep Space Nine relaunch “Mission: Gamma” series, but attacks on Andoria by the Borg have made the problem more acute, and Federation attempts to help — which involve complementing the Andorian genome with alien strains that will allow two-sex pairs to produce young, and which will increase the instance of twins — have produced only mixed results and are regarded by many Andorians, particularly religious “Visionists”, as repugnant.  In the wake of increasing hostility toward the Federation, the USS Enterprise has arrived in orbit carrying scientists from across the galaxy to attend a genetics conference in hopes of finding some answer to this troublesome dilemma.

As eager as I was to finish the Typhon Pact miniseries off, its setting of Andoria gave me pause. Relaunch Andorians are a whiny bunch, so much to the point that while reading the Mission: Gamma series, I hurried through the chapters featuring Shar, who appears on the front cover of this book. I like Ward’s style, though, so I read Paths — and found it a political thriller which beats even Rough Beasts of Empire in giving the Trek universe a shake-up.  Though the reader is treated to character development a plenty (Picard is now a father to little René), most of the action takes place on-planet, as Picard and the Andorian government attempt to carry out the conference amid much moodiness, terrorist attacks,  and outright conspiracies while inthe shadows, the Typhon Pact lurks and schemes. This is an excellent conclusion to the miniseries which focuses on the Federation’s new rival:  they’re obviously growing in strength, and accomplish a masterstroke here: the book’s conclusion is stunning — and a bit of downer.

Paths of Disharmony makes it clear how subtle and potent a foe the Federation now faces and sets the stage for the books to come.  Interestingly, Paths’ impetus is more the Vanguard series than the other Typhon Pact books, and it’s worth nothing that Ward is one of the two authors (along with David Mack) who has contributed the most to that series.  Though it doesn’t end on a happy note, Paths should please most Trek readers with the growth of the Enterprise-E staff and fast-paced plot of political intrigue.

Related:

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The Outline of History

Posted on February 23, 2011 by smellincoffee

The Outline of History, Being a Plain History of Life and Mankind (Volume I)
© 1920 H.G. Wells, revised edition by G.P. Wells and Raymond Postgate © 1970
550 pages

At the close of the Great War, people wondered how such a monstrous conflict could have arisen and destroyed so many lives. In part to answer this question, and out of conviction that contemporary history texts were not up to the task. H.G. Wells set about penning an epic history of humanity, beginning with the formation of the Earth billions of years ago. His opening chapters cover the tumultous early years of Earth and the rise of life, followed by four hundred pages of human history — from the birth of agriculture to the Crusades.Though originally published in 1920, Wells continually revised the book in keeping with new discoveries, a work continued by his son and Raymond Postgate after his death. Wells’ account and the many revisions through the decades seem to have aged well, as there were no notable discrepancies between this and my readings from last week, consisting of modern treatments of the same subjects. I am altogether impressed with the work of Postgate: his seamless revisions only stick out when they reference events Wells could not have possibly written about, being dead at the time.  I chose to read this book because Wells is for me a representative of the late 19th century: his protagonists in novels such as War of the Worlds are the ideal man — intelligent, literate in various fields of study, humanistically moral, and advocates of technological, cultural, and social progress. His voice is what I generally expect of Wells: elegant and strong, encouraging me to read sections of the narrative aloud and savor the flow of his sentences and the texture of his word choices. It was such a reading on the Punic Wars that an offhand joke — completely unexpected from such a ‘serious’ author as Wells — startled me into laughter that did not abate for several minutes. Though an intellectual, Wells is not above a sly remark or two.

The Outline of History is an ambitious title, one that forces Wells to be economical with his narrative. He thus focuses on the big picture, studying a given civilization’s growth or regress than reciting fact after fact. He quotes liberally from other historians, including Herodotus and Edward Gibbon. Most of the book follows the standard narrative of western history seen: Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, Rome, and finally Europe. It is not wholly eurocentric, though: his frequent diversions to China, Persia, and India, followed by his focus on Arabia in this volume’s final hundred pages, succeed in offering the reader a broad perspective with a slight western emphasis.

Though writing to (presumably) an early-20th century western audience, Wells does not pander to them by vigorously condemning  paganism or by giving Christianity preferential treatment. Though he regards Jesus and Christianity favorably, he approaches them in the same way as he approaches Buddha, Muhammed, Mani, and Zoroaster. C.S. Lewis and G.K. Cheston are chauvinistic babies for whining about Wells’ very complimentary treatment of Christianity. He’s also very keen on Buddha, though not so much the religion that others created around him, and regards Islam as a triumph even though its founder was unremarkable, “cast from commoner clay” than Jesus.  While he doesn’t praise religion and authority figures as much as Will Durant, he appreciates those which spur humanity on to greater heights and spares the reader morality tales. Interestingly, he’s also completly unimpressed with the Roman empire, seeing it as a prolonged epoch of stagnation and rot following Rome’s victory in the Second Punic War — a series of wars he regards as more wasteful than the Great War which he just survived. He emerges from this first volume as an even-keeled author, whose goal is to make the world understandable. He writes in the introduction that the “why’s” of the Great War inspired him to write this, and I have some inkling as to how he will address that question: throughout the book he reminds the reader that despite our accomplishments, biologically we are not far removed from our primitive ancestors, and it is altogether too easy to shove a human being and see him gazing back with the “red eyes of the cave man”.  I suspect that the Great War will be attributed to  nationalism’s primitivism.

Wells is thus far an engaging author, and I look forward to continuing to the second and final volume of this series — especially to his coverage of the Renaissance and Enlightenment.  This volume was like returning to my Western History 101 class and being delighted to hear these stories of human history all over again.

Related:


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The Revolutionist

Posted on February 22, 2011 by smellincoffee

The Revolutionist: A Novel of Russia
© 1988 Robert Littell
467 pages

Arise! You workers from your slumber

Arise! You prisoners of want

For  Reason in revolt now thunders
And at last ends the age of “can’t”. 
“The Internationale”, English lyrics by  Eugène Pottier.


In the fourth year of the Great War,  the largest and most conservative monarchy in Europe suddenly collapsed in revolution, only to emerge as the world’s first self-proclaimed Communist state. The  ‘spectre of communism’ which had so haunted Europe was now suddenly corporeal, and hearts across the industrialized world set afire — some in fear, others in desperate hope that an opportunity had finally arrived to create a better tomorrow. Alexander Til, an idealist driven by a longing for justice, was such a soul who saw in the revolution a chance to make the world a more just place — and so the Russian-born American emigrated back to the country of his grandfather is a letter of recommendation of none other than Leon Trotsky.   Arriving in Petrograd, ‘Zander’ quickly becomes an agent and literary propagandist for the Bolshevik party, working directly under Lenin, Trotsky, Stalin, and others as they work to make the county theirs — a firm believer in the Revolution, but driven by his own moral center.

The Revolutionist is intense from the star and its vigor never fades, maintained by lively characters, snappy dialogue, and a plot which follows the lives of a diverse cast of characters through decades of war, terror, and political intrigue . Upon arrival in Russia, Zander begins living with a group of Bolsheviks in an elegant home known as the Steamship: though disagreeing on much, they all believe in the cause which will dominate their life. Some of Zanders’ fellow Steamship comrades would live to be bitterly disappointed by the products of their labor: others would be made monstrous by it, and some would die rather than endure it. Zander’ morality is taxed to his limits as he tries to find the right course between morality and The Cause, making his way through the paranoid and horrifically murderous years of the Stalinist era.

As far as thrillers go, this must be one of the best I’ve ever read. My historic interest in popular revolutions made it engaging reading, particularly given that Lenin and Stalin appear as oft-used secondary characters.  The author makes Til entirely sympathetic, and seems to view the revolution as doomed from the start, driven by morally bankrupt men like Stalin who were corrupt from the start.  He takes the same attitude toward as Dickens did toward the similarly disappointing French Revolution, which started out in idealism but ended in its own ‘reign of terror’ — the Russian revolution is far more disastrous, however, given that Stalin’s butchery lasted for decades. The worst effects of his rule are demonstrated clearly in the novel, as people are made afraid to speak out or live bravely,  dominated completely by the world’s first totalitarian state. Zander and his friends are put through the mill, their lives destroyed by the deteriorating political situation which throws more than a few plot twists at the reader. I had no idea how Til would see the end of the work through, or even if he would —  it deemed like a story that would end in death. The actual conclusion surprised me.

A singularly impressive work, one I daresay which will linger in my mind for months to come.

Related:

  • Archangel, Robert Harris. A political thriller set in Russia, and likewise dominated by Stalin. 
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