Review of Tongues of Serpents – Book 6 of the Temeraire series by Naomi Novik

I’ve followed this delightful series in which the Napoleonic wars are conducted with fighting dragons. However in this sixth book – does Novik manage to sustain the freshness and quirky charm of the first books?

Convicted of treason despite their heroic defence against Napolean’s invasion of Britain, Temeraire and Laurence – stripped of rank and standing – have been transported to the prison colony at New South Wales. With them travel three dragon eggs intended to help establish a covert in the colony, and destined to be handed over to second-rate undesirable officers willing to accept so remote an assignment.

But instead of leaving behind the political entanglements of the war, Laurence and Temeraire sail into a hornet’s nest of fresh corruption. The young Australian colony has been thrown into turmoil after the overthrow of the military governor, one William Bligh – formerly Captain Bligh, late of the HMS Bounty.

I really enjoyed this change of scene. Temeraire is a wonderful character who has steadily developed throughout the series and quickly pulls me into his various adventures with his singular dragon viewpoint. As I wasn’t attracted to the series through any particular knowledge of the Napoleonic campaigns, Novik’s necessary tweaks to fit her storyline with the historical facts don’t particularly disturb me. Neither was I worried that Temeraire was no longer fighting Napoleon – Novik’s tour of her version of the world is sufficiently engaging that I am perfectly relaxed about exploring it along with the protagonists. However, I did wonder if Laurence would have struggled more with the brutal reality of the penal colony. While I’m sure he would have coped physically with the hardship, I did think that he would have found the sense of his disgrace would have chafed – especially considering the circumstances that led to their transportation.

I liked Novik’s depiction of the Australian outback during Temeraire’s exploration of the continent. Her deft use of some of the Australian myths to produce some challenges to the dragons along the way manages to provide plenty of narrative tension, along with the surprises that await the expedition when they finally reach the other side of the continent.

All in all, I feel that Tongues of Serpentsis an entertaining addition to the series which I certainly wouldn’t characterise as a placeholder, and I’m looking to getting hold of Crucible of Gold, the next instalment.
8/10

Review of Ghost of the White Nights – Book 3 of The Ghost trilogy by L.E. Modesitt, Jr.

This is the third in the series and if you have missed reading the two previous books, Of Tangible Ghosts and The Ghost of the Revelator which Tor have conveniently put together in a single duology called, The Ghosts of Columbia – then I strongly recommend that you put this book on one side until you’ve read the previous offerings. If you are a fan of well constructed alternate histories and enjoy Modesitt’s intricate layering of daily detail, then this is a treat not to be missed.  Set in an alternative world in which ghosts are real, the United States never came into existence and Russia is still ruled by the Romanovs, this book continues the adventures of semi-retired spy, Dr. Johan Eschbach.

His lovely wife, Llysette du Boise, a refugee from the burning remains of France and a world-famous vocalist, has been invited to provide a command performance for the Russian Imperial household. Johan accompanies her, allowing him to work on the oil concession in Russian Alaska that Columbia so desperately needs and do some spying on the side. Johan’s espionage is carried out against the backdrop of the famous white nights of St. Petersburg, and nearly Arctic midsummer when the sun barely dips below the horizon and the sky seems to dissolve in ivory light. But even the oil shortage will fade to insignificance when Johan discovers what new weapons technology the Russians are developing, a threat even more fearsome than the atomic bombs of Austro-Hungary.

This is a fascinating premise, because when someone dies a violent death and registers what is happening to them, they leave behind a ghost. So suddenly all the great battles that litters our history mostly don’t occur, including WW’s I and II – because having thousands of disturbed ghosts will make large areas uninhabitable. Unfortunately, it doesn’t completely prevent tyrants and Ferdinand of the Austrian Empire is a case in point. The Founding Fathers never made it to America, which is split up into a series of smaller states and Columbia, where Johan and Llysette live, was colonised by the Dutch. Modesitt’s world building is a delight and – unlike most series – I personally think the middle book is the strongest.

This Russian adventure is an enjoyable, engrossing read. I loved meeting up again with Johan, who is an interesting protagonist as a university professor. However, this time around I do have a couple of niggles. Modesitt carefully builds the tension by giving us all the small details of Johan’s life, which works very well. But when there is a sudden explosion of violence, I find it difficult to equate Johan’s completely casual approach to killing several people in quick succession to the man who quivers when his wife raises an eyebrow and snaps. It also disturbs me that, given we have a ringside seat into Johan’s first person point of view – he only once alludes to his dead wife and child, wincing when someone else brings them up. He is depicted as a thoughtful, sensitive person, desperate to keep Llysette safe and I find his absence of any remembrance of his former family at odds with the rest of his character.

These quibbles aside – and yes, I have marked the book down accordingly – I still found this book a really enjoyable read and if you haven’t yet gotten around to catching up with this excellent series, I would urge you to do so.
8/10

Review of Zoo City by Lauren Beukes

This has been on my ‘to read’ list for some time – and obviously, when it won last year’s Arthur C. Clarke award, it got boosted to ‘must read’.

Zinzi has a Sloth on her back, a dirty 419 scam habit, and a talent for finding lost things. But when a little old lady turns up dead and the cops confiscate her last paycheck, she’s forced to take on her least favourite kind of job – missing persons.

And that’s the blurb. Which doesn’t really give you much of an idea about what the book is about – however trying to sum up this South African offering in a few lines was always going to be a big ask. Zinzi December is an ex-journalist trying to rebuild her life after having been involved in the death of her brother. But, in this alternate world, those who feel particularly guilty find themselves paired with an animal who may or may not contain the soul of the person they wronged. Beukes doesn’t spend a great deal of time on exposition, but the first person narrative is at times interspersed with other documents – and the academic treatise on the prejudice against ‘zoos’ is examined, along with its causes. Zinzi is bonded with Sloth, who she has to have reasonably close, or die a painful, terrifying death – but in addition, zoos have a gift. Zinzi’s is an ability to find lost things, which she visualises floating above people.

And the Zoo City? A slum area in Johannesburg, inhabited by criminals – mostly accompanied by their animals. This is a vivid and richly different world. I lived in Zambia for a chunk of my childhood and the African slang words and rhythms rang with authenticity, along with the slick, wonderfully worded metaphorical language. Being something of a word junkie, I just loved rolling Beukes’ phrases around in my mouth.

Zinzi leaps off the page with her sharp, street-smart attitude, underscored by the guilt surrounding her brother’s death and occasional shafts of regret for her lost life of privilege and parents… We don’t ever get to the bottom of exactly what happened to Thanda, her brother – or exactly what passed between Zinzi and her parents in the aftermath. Beukes drops a few allusions and the reader is allowed to fill in the gaps, which is fine with me.  Essentially, this vivid, scary world and the cast of eccentric characters peopling it have been crafted to tell a whodunit.

So – does Beukes’ plotline match up the excellence of her compelling world and richly textured prose? Well… no, not really. Not that there is anything essentially wrong with the narrative – there were all sorts of interesting little plot twists and cul-de-sacs that worked perfectly well, but were relatively ordinary. In contrast, her world and characterisation is superb, while her prose is mostly wonderful – the plotting would have had to be amazing to have matched that standard. This doesn’t take away what Zoo City has to offer – it is still dizzyingly good. But don’t take my word for it – if you are remotely interested in speculative fiction and haven’t already got hold of this book, then do so. It is one of those books that will still be discussed ten years from now as a benchmark read of 2010/11.

10/10

Review of Making History by Stephen Fry

This is the first time I’ve picked up a Stephen Fry novel, and it was an enjoyable, if slightly uneven, experience. Thumbing through the opening pages, I noticed that this book was first published in 1996, which begins to make sense when considering some of the faultlines running through this alternate history offering.

Michael Young is convinced his brilliant history thesis will win him a doctorate, a pleasant academic post, a venerable academic publisher and his beloved girlfriend Jane. A historian should know better than to imagine that he can predict the future.

Leo Zuckerman is an ageing physicist obsessed with the darkest period in human history, utterly driven by his fanatical hatred of one man. A lover’s childish revenge and the breaking of a rotten clasp cause the two men to meet in a blizzard of swirling pages. Pages of history. When they come together nothing – past, present or future – will ever be the same again.

And there you have the blurb. The book contains an intriguing premise – two men decide, for very different reasons, to tamper with history by ensuring the one man responsible for the rise of Nazi Germany is never born. However, the result isn’t what they bargained for… As a former history student, I thoroughly enjoyed Fry’s thorough approach to the historical content and had no problem with the leisurely start. And the conclusion that Fry comes to is certainly thought provoking – I’ve been thinking a lot about the book since I put it down.

Fry successfully establishes Michael’s character as a wunderkind bedevilled with increasing insecurities as his peers are rapidly catching up, if not overhauling his precocious giftedness. Inevitably, given the sub-genre, the narrative timeline is speckled with flashbacks which are ably handled. And it goes without saying that the writing is excellent – actually, that shouldn’t go without saying. Excellent writing should always be acknowledged and I’d be selling Fry short if I just gave a nod in that direction because we all know that the man has an intellect the size of Greece’s overdraft.

So far, so good. The protagonist has been well established, with plenty of depth. We have met with Leo and there’s been a couple of interesting plot twists – and then the novel prose comes to abrupt end and I was confronted with a film script. The action immediately speeded up as I witnessed a major emotional confrontation spool through in this script mode – feeling completely unconnected to the characters. Later in the novel, there is another, longer film script interlude, which also had the effect of alienating me from the action – a real shame as I’d really enjoyed the book up to this point.

I am aware that my extreme aversion to this literary device is subjective – probably connected to the fact that books are my first and major love, while films are okay, I suppose…. However, I did find the film script sections really spoilt the book for me. Having said that, up to the point it all went Courier I found the depiction of the alternate world engrossing and chilling in equal measure. Fry is good at writing minor characters memorably and the flashes of humour helped alleviate what could have been a grim read, given the subject matter.

All in all, it’s an interesting book with a fascinating premise and if you enjoy alternate histories, I highly recommend it. Who knows – you may even enjoy the scripted sections…
8/10

Review of The Prometheus Project by Steve White

This science fiction alternative history adventure has a really classic feel to it, starting as it does in the 1960’s, with Bob Devaney as a typically alpha-male ‘muscle for hire’ narrating the tale – and what a tale…

Bob Devaney was a Special Forces soldier in the early 1960’s – until a certain traumatic event, which he refused to discuss even with his superiors, caused him to leave the Army and set up his own security and investigative agency, employing only him.
Hired by a secret government agency to do undercover work, he was escorting a mysterious woman named Novak to the White House when they were ambushed by gunmen. Novak used a device that worked like an invisibility field to make an impossible escape – and then knocked Devaney out with some kind of ray gun. When he woke up, he realized that Novak was about to kill him for knowing too much – but suddenly she received a message: Devaney was to be recruited for something called the Prometheus Project.

The Project turned out to be the largest disinformation operation in history, targeted at the aliens who ruled the galaxy. A man named Inconnu had arrived in a damaged but highly advanced craft in the 1940’s claiming that he had escaped from a group of humans whom aliens had been studying, and it turned out that unless the Earth could convince the aliens that the planet had a unified government, and was armed with technology comparable to that of the galactic rulers, the Earth would be exploited as a primitive protectorate.

And there you have it – off we go on a roller-coaster adventure that had me reading into the small hours to find out what happens. An adventure that includes kidnapping, power politics with aliens and a really cool twist at the end that I didn’t see coming. White writes well – this could have so easily have descended into some clichéd retread, but instead bounces along with engaging gusto and freshness, aided by the first person narration of Devaney, reminding me all over again just WHY I love this genre so much…
It’s a big ask to write convincingly about first encounters with aliens. For starters, they have to appear different enough that the reader is convinced they could have evolved on another planet – or if they are similar, provide a solid reason for it. And the protagonists have to appear sufficiently awestruck, without holding up the narrative pace while they boggle over the enormity of their discovery. Add to that the fact that those of us who enjoy the genre will have read this scenario at least a dozen times before – and you begin to see why most modern science fiction writers tend to avoid this plotline. However, I think that White manages to pull it off extremely well – I particularly liked his explanation that the Space Race to the Moon was deliberately poorly handled, leading to its abandonment, so that NASA wouldn’t accidentally encounter the Project’s base on the dark side of the Moon…

Any grizzles? Well the one minor detail that jarred was that Chloe, Devaney’s love interest, refused to get up close and personal with him for fear of becoming pregnant. I found it difficult to believe that in the 1960’s any female sent on a long-term mission to another world wouldn’t have been automatically provided with some kind of birth control – after all, a form of the Pill had been invented in the 1950’s. It is a picky point, but in a book where I felt the world was constructed with care and attention to detail, this was the one bit that didn’t work.

Other than that, I heartily recommend this book to anyone who enjoys science fiction – for some of us it’ll be a misty-eyed trip down Memory Lane, reminding us all over again why we fell headlong for the genre. For the less aged among you, this gives a flavour of a time when we were all bombarded with news reports of flying saucers – when many of us truly believed that in the next decade or so, we’d be out among the stars encountering these beings for real… Heigh ho
9/10

Review of Yellow Blue Tibia by Adam Roberts

I picked this book off the library shelf (something I won’t get to do much longer, if the Government and local councils have their way…) because I thought the cover intriguingly different.

Konstantin Andreiovich Skvorecky was one of a group of Russion SF writers called together by Josef Stalin in 1946. Stalin, convinced that the defeat of America was only a few years away, needed a new enemy for Communism to unite against. Skvorecky and the others were tasked with creating a convincing alien threat; a story of imminent disaster that could be told to the Soviet peoples.

And then after many months of diligent work the writers were told to stop and, on pain of death, to forget everything. Little is known of what happened to the writers subsequently but in 1986, Skvorecky made a dramatic reappearance at Chernobyl claiming that everything that he and the others had written was coming true. His assertion was widely disbelieved but Skvorecky claimed (tastelessly many believe) that the Chernobyl disaster and the destruction of the Challenger space shuttle conformed to the pattern set by Stalin’s scenario. Skvorecky believes that alien invasion is ongoing.

I’d not come across Roberts’ work before, but it didn’t take long to realise that this chap can write. Narrated in Skvorecky’s first person viewpoint, the character is beautifully realised – right down to the odd Russian contradictions such as his (completely understandable) world-weary cynicism, along with the touching belief in love. The book recounts Skvorecky’s adventures leading up to the Chernobyl disaster and how an encounter with a couple of American Scientologists changed his life.

Roberts deftly portrays a Russia suffering a crisis of confidence with everyone scrabbling to cope with Gorbachev’s cataclysmic changes involving perrestoika against a backdrop of crumbling Communism. It isn’t a pretty picture – especially filtered through the viewpoint of an aging, burnt out ex-alcoholic. By rights it should be unremittingly grim enough to make the likes of Dan Simmons and Roger Levy look pink n’fluffy in comparison. However Roberts leavens the underlying awfulness of his subject matter and backdrop by dollops of humour, to the extent there are laugh-aloud moments in this book. I found myself chuckling during Skvorecky’s interrogation when the official questioning him gets in a muddle as to when the tape is turned off and on…

The book veers from moments of acute danger, high farce and reflections on the dreadful circumstances within a couple of pages without jolting the reader out of the story. It takes a writer at the height of his powers to pull this off. And Roberts really does flex his ‘show off’ muscle in this book – the narrative voice denoting English as a second language, complete with amusing puns and odd confusions; Skvorecky’s entirely believable transformation from a miserably cynical has-been to someone a lot more hopeful and proactive; the swooping changes of mood from moments of high drama to farce… But then, if I could write like this, I’d probably be performing the literary equivalent of dizzying pirouettes, too.

Interestingly, science fiction as a genre and belief system comes under close examination in the book, right from when Stalin decides that aliens should make the next unifying threat to keep Mother Russia together. Skvorecky maintains his belief throughout that alien abductions and spaceships do not exist – that even when he was a respected science fiction author, he did not believe in such things. Science fiction becomes a metaphor for a population’s credulous belief in things without any proper foundation. Or does it? Roberts plays the sorts of games with the reader that we are more used to seeing from the literary end of the spectrum, such as providing us with an unreliable narrator. Generally I have limited patience with such gimmicks – but then they are often employed by authors who don’t possess Roberts’ skill and humour.

Any niggles? Nope. Not a single one. I’ve read reviews that have grumbled that some of the interesting issues raised in the book are not fully developed – but that’s FINE with me. This is a piece of fiction designed to entertain. In addition, Roberts has also chosen to give us food for thought along the way – what he didn’t do was to hold up the narrative pace to extend those reflections beyond their use in the story. A writer that – despite his stylist flourishes – puts the needs of the reader above his own hubris. Hallelujah! In short (in case it’s already escaped your attention) I think that this is a superb, funny, sharp read by a clever author who knows exactly where he’s going… Go on – track it down, you be thanking me if you do. And if you’re scratching your head about the odd title – apparently the Russian phrase Ya lyublyU tebyA, meaning I love you, sounds roughly like yellow, blue tibia.
10/10

Review of Ghosts of Columbia omnibus edition by L.E. Modesitt, Jr

There’s a problem, I think, with extremely prolific writers. The obvious one is that someone regularly releasing two novels a year will – inevitably – at times have something published that would have been far better if only it had a chance to ‘incubate’ a bit longer, either in the author’s imagination or in the editing state. But another issue is that an author with fifty-something novels to his name will occasionally produce a book, or series that is absolutely outstanding – which somehow gets overlooked. Fortunately, someone at Tor had the good sense to realise that this had happened to Modesitt’s Ghost books and so Of Tangible Ghosts and The Ghost of the Revelator were republished together in an omnibus edition.

I’m very glad they were – and that I stumbled across the book on the library shelves. This is a world where people who are killed violently or accidentally with sufficient time to realise that they are about to die, become ghosts. So large battles become undesirable – battlefields overrun with hordes of ghosts make an area uninhabitable until they fade. The point at which history has also diverged is when the colonists from the Mayflower landing in the New World succumb to the plague, denying England any foothold on the American continent. Which means a chunk of Canada and North America is settled by the Dutch, in a nation called Columbia with New France down in the south and the Mormon state of Deseret jostling in an uneasy truce. For the time being…

Drop into this interestingly original world, ex-espionage agent and political minister Johan Eschbach, now living quietly in New Bruges and working as a lecturer on Environmental Studies at the Vanderaak Centre who tells his story in first person POV. And we are sucked into a world where everything is in its place; where people all know each other in a small university town and Johan, recovering from the death of his wife and small son, gives us daily details of the food he eats, the lessons he teaches and his interactions with the Dean, his colleagues and cleaning lady – and the ups and downs of his relationship with the French opera singer and refugee, Llysette duBoise. Against this backdrop political tensions rise, murders occur and Johan is inexorably pulled into the deadly intrigue going on around the new research into ghosts.

It is masterfully done. Johan is a wonderful character, whose depth and complexity powers the whole narrative. Modesitt even pulls off the very difficult trick of giving the reader information about Johan through what he won’t discuss – his first wife and dead son… This is Modesitt at his blinding best – and that best is very good, indeed. Because the other major component that needs to really work in an alternate history, is the world.

In this particular plot Modesitt not only had to have the basis tenant nailed, he also needed to ensure all the details are convincing – this isn’t some paranormal fantasy where we can shrug our shoulders and assume that the odd flaky anomaly is ok – it’s a big ask. But Modesitt rises to the challenge magnificently and as far as I’m concerned, this is the best alternate history I’ve ever read. The world is there in a welter of detail that in its everyday ordinariness acts as a striking contrast to ghosts and the increasingly dangerous situation besetting Johan, thus adding to, rather than diluting the narrative tension.

Any niggles? Well, there’s one – which would have been a major problem if this review had been about Of Tangible Ghosts, rather than the omnibus. Modesitt slightly messes up the climactic denouement at the end of the first novel, so that I wasn’t completely sure exactly what had occurred – until I’d finished the first chapter of the second book where it is all properly explained. As I’ve been reading the second book, I’ve been slightly dreading the end – what if he does the same thing? It’s one of the major sins in my view – taking your reader all the way, only to rush the final details, leaving an unsatisfactory muddle. I’m delighted to report that Modesitt brings the plot to a complete and well explained conclusion in the second and final book in the omnibus. So despite that one glitch, I’m giving this book a 10.

If you enjoy well depicted, convincing worlds where the main character leaps off the page, complete with believable foibles – this is a must-read book that has been somehow buried under the weight of the rest of Modesitt’s output. A real shame… because it’s right up there as one of my most enjoyable reads, ever – and the skill required to produce such a gem shows that at his best, Modesitt is one of the outstanding speculative fiction writers of his generation.
10/10

Review of The Family Trade by Charles Stross

This start to his alternate historical science fiction series proves that Charles Stross is an outstanding talent and – unsurprisingly – won the 2005 Sideways Award for Alternative History, as well as a nomination for a Locus Award.

Miriam Beckstein is happy in her life. She’s a successful reporter for a hi-tech magazine in Boston, making good money doing what she loves. When her researcher brings her iron-clad evidence of a money-laundering scheme, Miriam thinks she’s found the story of the year. But when she takes it to her editor, she’s fired on the spot and gets a death threat from the criminals she has uncovered.  Before the day is over, she’s received a locket left by the mother she never knew – the mother who was murdered when she was an infant. Within is a knotwork pattern, which has a hypnotic effect on her. Before she knows it, she’s transported herself to a parallel Earth, a world where knights on horseback chase their prey with automatic weapons, and where world-skipping assassins lurk just on the other side of reality – a world where her true family runs things.

I love this world – where Miriam is constantly cold away from her modern comforts. Where, as a thirty-two year old, she is regarded as a dowager – almost past her prime purpose, which is to make an advantageous match and provide plenty of babies also capable of world-walking. However, as the tension mounts and news leaks out that she has been found, Miriam finds herself in acute danger and unable to fully trust anyone – not even Roland… The heroine is enjoyably complex with a completely understandable reaction to the shock of switching between the two worlds.

This is standard fantasy fare – but there is nothing standard about the rawness and real sense of trauma experienced by Miriam as she finds herself catapulted into this new, hostile existence without any prospect of being able to safely return to her former life. As we are pulled into her adventures, there is a constant sense of danger as she feels herself unable to completely trust anyone in this complicated, brutal world. While the intrigue thickens and the plot gathers momentum, Stross keeps the pace and narrative driving forward to the end of this particular story – leaving me looking forward to reading the second book in the series, The Hidden Family.
10/10

Review of Victory of Eagles by Naomi Novik – Book Five of the Temeraire series

If you enjoy alternative histories and have a weakness of dragons of any size and shape – then this is a must-read series. Novik revisits the Napoleonic era, with its wars and resulting widespread social dislocation – but also includes into the mix dragons that are bonded to humans from the moment they hatch, and then trained to become part of the French and English fighting machine.
The main protagonists in her series include a rare, highly prized Celestial dragon, called Temeraire, who was snatched from a French ship as an egg. His handler, Laurence, was destined for a distinguished naval career – until he accidentally happened to be present when Temeraire hatched and was chosen by the dragon to be his companion. Together they have experienced a variety of adventures in different surroundings with plenty of fighting – both set-piece battles and skirmishes – and both characters have become ever closer and more aware of each other. In this fifth book, Novik does it again. She gives her fans yet another completely different twist to the ongoing tale – a feat not always successfully achieved by multi-book authors.
It is a bleak time for Temeraire. Banished to the breeding grounds from active military service and constantly missing his human companion, Laurence, he finally begins to count the cost of his decision to help the French dragons. While his captain, Will Laurence, has been condemned to hang for treason. However, their fates pale into insignificance against the desperate conditions that Britain now faces. As Napoleon’s forces breach the Channel defences and invade southern England, it is clear that Napoleon intends to occupy London. So when Temeraire and Laurence once more serve King and Country, it is in the knowledge that their support is only tolerated – and that in certain quarters they are held indirectly responsible for the whole mess, anyhow…
As the story rolls over almost without a break from the previous books, I recommend that you read them all before embarking on this latest volume, which will be a joy if you haven’t yet encountered this very popular series.
While not as high-flown or wordy, Novik does nod in the direction of the more effusive manner of the 18th century style of writing. I am aware that this has hampered the enjoyment of at least one would-be fan, but I personally find the style eminently in keeping with atmosphere Novik has engendered. And as I was brought up on such staples as Pilgrim’s Progress, Jane Eyre and The Children of the New Forest, it wasn’t going to bother me, anyway. However, I give it a mention so that those among you who like your prose pared to the bone will know what to expect.
In amongst the swash-buckling action, Novik has some interesting themes running through her work. Temeraire, as a Celestial dragon, is highly intelligent and capable of fluently speaking a number of languages, reading and writing. However, he is officially regarded as a piece of military equipment by the English authorities, who are much slower than Napoleon or the Chinese to give their dragons any kind of special consideration. Novik interweaves this strand with the anti-slavery arguments of the day – with Temeraire discussing the issue with Wilberforce. Along with Napoleon, both Nelson and Wellington pop up in this book. While this historical time isn’t my speciality, my husband, who’s a military history enthusiast reckons that Novik has done a particularly good job on Wellington. In my humble opinion, she’s done a particularly good job on this outstanding book in a fine series.
9/10

Review of A History of the World in 10½ Chapters by Julian Barnes

This is an interesting collection of short stories, connected by the recurring theme of survival. Several are linked to the tale of Noah, which starts the book. However, this particular version differs in many ways from the Biblical account, not least because it is told from the viewpoint of one the ark’s passengers. His funny, jaundiced narration of Noah and his family’s behaviour during the Flood immediately raises issues about the truth. He directly challenges our knowledge of the event, claiming that the Biblical version is a cover up, a gloss on the inept, often disgraceful conduct of Noah and his family.
This classic postmodernist stance runs through the book, like the recurring elements surrounding Noah’s tale. The second story, The Visitors, is also set at sea and is also an account of survival, told from the viewpoint of a history lecturer. His role in the unfolding drama, once the ship is boarded by a group of terrorists, becomes increasingly compromised as he attempts to keep himself and his current girlfriend safe.

The next tale, The Wars of Religion, is the weakest one, in my opinion. Barnes indulges in a recreation of medieval court records for this story. As Barnes notes in the back, this story is based on a true trial set in France. Because it is told through the supposed official records with more than a nod at the fairly convoluted language of the time, the reader doesn’t build a relationship with any of the protagonists and I found myself skimming through it. It could have been effectively told in half the time, and I feel that its inclusion doesn’t really add anything to Barnes’ argument, but has been included because the whole notion caught Barnes’ imagination. However, once we get to the ‘oh my gosh’ moment, there isn’t really anything else to keep this reader’s interest.

The Survivor is a grim tale told in first person point of view by Kath, who attempts to escape the effects of a nuclear conflict and an unhappy relationship by taking a boat to sea with two cats. During her voyage, she becomes delirious and dreams of being kept in a hospital by annoyingly intrusive doctors, who wish to understand the source of her delusions. By the end of the story, we are left to decide for ourselves whether Kath is really at sea with her two well fed cats, or in a hospital room.

The next story, Shipwreck, is another one based on historical fact. In 1816 a small convoy of four vessels set out for Senegal. When one of them, a frigate, ran aground on some reefs, those aboard constructed a raft. However, the whole plan went horribly wrong, with provisions washed away as the raft became waterlogged in heavy seas, leaving the survivors adrift with not enough to eat or drink. Men were murdered, some thrown overboard and finally the remaining corpses were eaten, before a mere fifteen survivors were rescued. This grisly tale, told in omniscient viewpoint, is immediately followed by the second part of the tale. This section deals with the painting that was made of the event and discusses where it deviates from what happened and why. The tone is scholarly, as if discussing this work in an academic essay. There is even a colour reproduction of the painting included in the book.

The Mountain is an account of Miss Fergusson and Miss Logan’s expedition to Mount Ararat during the reign of Queen Victoria, to the monastery that was built on the site of where Noah’s ark finally ran aground as the flood waters receded. Miss Fergusson is a spinster struggling to come to terms with her father’s death and it is one of his final comments that sends her on this quest. She embodies the spirit of the age, with her determination to continue on the journey, whatever the obstacle and her narrow-minded, but wholly sincere belief in the rightness of her particular religious viewpoint. The story’s ending is abrupt and dark.

Upstream is an epistolary account of Charlie’s experience on film location in the Amazon playing the part of a missionary priest. His series of letters, notes and telegrams to his girlfriend back home provide us with his version of events, once again leading up to an unexpected and violent climax. There is humour in this story – unlike the previous four – but it is undeniably dark.

Parenthesis is my favourite story. This, presumably, is the half-chapter of the title. Barnes seems to be writing as himself, musing on the nature of love, the shape of hearts and exactly what the organ represents, as he lies alongside his sleeping wife. There is a quality of tenderness in the writing that I find deeply moving, especially when juxtaposed with some of the searing irony and bleak outcomes of previous chapters. The quiet, fervent love expressed towards his wife shines out of the book like a beacon.

Project Ararat recounts the life story of Spike Tiggler, onetime astronaut, who upon his return to Earth after throwing a football on the Moon, announces that he wants to discover Noah’s ark. We learn of Spike’s background and his wife’s misgivings when he first embarks on this project. There are interesting and disturbing echoes between Spike and Miss Fergusson in their joint desire to find the ark. The ending of the story is ironic and darkly humorous – if you enjoy a good laugh at the blacker end of the spectrum.

The final chapter in this book is an account of heaven told from the viewpoint of an unnamed man. We learn of his initial delight at the wonderful breakfasts, the shopping expeditions and the superb rounds of golf – and what he does next to survive eternity. Like the first story, this tale is plain funny and had me laughing aloud in places.

I found this book a real mixture of light and dark. The theme of survival, snaking around the metaphor of Noah’s ark, was intriguing. Barnes seems to be saying that those who grit their teeth and hang in there are not necessarily the best or nicest. Just determined. That Barnes is a superlative writer is a given. This book showcases his ability to write in a variety of styles, convincingly portraying both men and women through a number of experiences and timescales. I suspect that I will be musing upon the ideas and characters in this book for a long time – but I do have a niggle.

This is a novel like no other – provocative, superbly funny, a wonderful and most original work… gives the reader a sense of ebullient, whooping joy

This is a direct quote from the blurb on the back of the book. The Guardian reviewer who penned such fulsome praise was right in many respects. It is provocative. It is original and very well written. But superbly funny? Gives the reader a sense of ebullient, whooping joy? Not this reader. I enjoyed the occasional shafts of humour, but found the darkness running through the book didn’t leave me even slightly joyful. I’m not convinced that Barnes actually intended anyone to skip away from reading it with an extra spring in their step. There is too much in there designed to shock and jolt us out of our comfort zone. So once more, I’m up on my soap box, having a moan about misleading blurb. This thoughtful, uncomfortable and well-crafted book deserves better than to be tossed aside in disgust by a reader searching for a light-hearted ‘joyous’ romp through history.
9/10