Niccolò Rising ~ Dorothy Dunnett

I've read many historical fictions with Scottish protagonists who fought in Flanders. Usually, these books are set in Scotland and obviously after the battles. I'd always wondered what the fuss in Flanders was all about but never bothered enough to actually do research on the subject. While this work by Dunnett does not completely clear up matters, it does provide a terrific backdrop for the conflicts that will affect the area. This is, I do believe, the first novel I've ever read that is set in Flanders, and am now disappointed in myself, that I've waited so long.



The book begins with the sinking of the fictional "Mons Martha" - the twin of Mons Meg which is located today at Edinburgh Castle - by three young men in a boat on the Sluys in Flanders. Claes, the servant who continues to cause an unending number of awkward and disastrous situations is punished through beatings and released to carry on with his duties as a dyer for the Charetty's a well respected merchant family.

The nearly 600 page book follows roughly a year of the characters' intertwined lives; how the merchant class works along side the Medici banking system and papal decrees; the English fight over whether they should side with the Yorks or Lancasters; and the Dauphin waffles about dethroning his father in France. Dunnett weaves each of these people through the politics, power plays, religion, loves and betrayals with such finesse that the reader knows that something is lurks under the surface, but is too engrossed in the prose to bother with working it out for him or her self. There's a magic in this tapestry threaded in bright and dark colours and silhouetted by a backdrop of mountains and seas.

I look forward to more of Claes and the Charettys, but am still savouring the first instalment and know that it will stay with me for a long while.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

Rome: The Coming Of The King ~ M.C. Scott

A little while ago I wrote about the first book M.C. Scott's Rome series, which I found to be the reason that I entertain reading more novels of the Roman Empire period. In this second instalment, the author neither disappoints nor dissuades me from reading more from this period.



After the great fire of Rome, Nero has dispatched his spies in search of those seeking to destroy Rome and establish a new order. Set primarily in Roman Judea where Syrians, Judeans and Romans struggle for supremacy. The resulting tensions provide for a constant flow of action, deception, growth and alternative responses, which keep the reader engaged in the story. There is nary a moment where one wants to put the book down. The characters are still a joy to follow regardless of whether they are loved or despised; there is a need to know what will happen next to these people whose depth knows no bounds. In addition, the prose draws the reader in and captivates. There is no wasted word, which can sometimes seem dry, but there is none of that from Scott.

I enjoyed this book more than the first one and I quite liked it. I felt so strongly about this that I have already begun the third, (I will write about this one once complete as well) in anticipation of the fourth due out in April where I reside.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

Hannibal: Enemy Of Rome ~ Ben Kane

Elephants through the Alps, hatred of the Romans, eventual defeat, and the complete and utter destruction of Carthage - the sum total of what I know about Hannibal. I didn't know Hannibal had a surname - Barca, or that he lead the Second Punic War. Of course I knew there was more than one Punic War, but I'm not sure I could tell you how many there are for certain and in fairness, plus I had no idea that Hannibal had anything to do with these wars. I do know there were at least three Punic Wars - all this new knowledge of mine comes from Ben Kane.



The first thing one should know about this book is that the title is a bit misleading. Hannibal does appear and is used to explain Carthaginian military strategy, but the story is not about Hannibal in any way. It is about the things that youth get up to and the trouble it can cause. It is about how youth can grow up rather quickly in adverse situations. Primarily, it is about how friendships can be made in the oddest places, with the most unexpected people, resulting in tough decisions when loyalties are questioned. All of this comes quite clearly through in this book, as do more intimate relationships between family members and between ranks during war.

One of the things I did enjoy very much in this novel is the way in which strategy, weaponry and battles were so clearly described without sounding like an academic text, which is not something all authors do well. However, I didn't really get a sense of all the characters, and suspect that those will be developed more in future instalments of these series. I am looking forward to more of the young people of this story and how each of the relationships grow or wane. I will read the sequel, time permitting shortly after its release, and have also endeavoured to read more from Ben Kane.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

The Professor And The Madman: A Tale Of Murder, Insanity, And The Making Of The Oxford English Dictionary ~ Simon Winchester

Dictionaries have always been a part of my life. They are a tool used often in my home, yet they are also books for which I hold a special fondness. Having graduated from a French primary school to an English highschool, I relied heavily on the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) to help me understand what I was reading and spelling. There were other dictionaries around, such as the massive one volume Websters, but I quickly discovered when reading Dickens, it sometimes fell short. I sought out the best and still use it to this day. Though, I continue to dream that one day, someone will honour me with the 20 volume set, but for now, I consult the "concise" volume, and sometimes the website.



For a biography, it is a relatively short book. To think that it is the biography of 2 people, one less in-depth than the other, as well as the biography of that much beloved institution: The Oxford English Dictionary, it's quite amazing. Winchester traces the history of both the editor who worked most on the original OED, James Murray, and the man who was arguably the most efficient at providing used definitions for the dictionary, William Chester Minor, as well as that of the text. He doesn't allow the story to get away from him and is quite sympathetic toward Minor - declared clinically insane after having murdered a complete stranger in a Lambeth street. Minor, an American on a wellness holiday in the U.K. after having been 'retired' by the American military shortly after the end of the Civil War was locked away at Crawthorne, but allowed to build himself a library, which ultimately hastened Murray's progress with the OED. Despite this, it took several editors and over 70 years for the full set to be published.

There is a lot packed into this biography, but one is never left confused or left behind. Winchester also kindly added the definitions of key words from the OED that demonstrate what the non-abridged version is set out. The example of the English lexicon is partnered with illustrations to make the book more accessible, though I don't think either was required; but feel they are both a lovely nod to how words were used in the Victorian era. Dickens punctuated his tales with illustrations, an art that has perhaps been misplaced over time.

One might even be envious of the thousands of people across the globe who offered their knowledge and expertise to the project. However, have no fear, the current OED editor has added an advert at the end to encourage people to continue assisting them in ensuring the dictionary is complete and as accurate as possible, especially considering availability of the Internet.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

Flashman ~ George MacDonald Fraser

Ever met someone who seems to be able to access the best of things while doing not very much? Does that person also seem to be credited for things he/she did not accomplish? Do they seem to come off a uncaring and self-absorbed, and able to get away with the biggest taboos? I'm not certain if George MacDonald Fraser knew someone like this, but he had a clear understanding of what really makes this type of person 'tick'.



I suspect that Flashman may be one of those books that is either loved or loathed. The titular character Flashman is a scoundrel, a cad, a manipulator and unapologetic womaniser. Actually, he's quite unapologetic about everything he does, or in his cowardice - does not do. I posit that few would admit to a fondness for someone like this character, but MacDonald Fraser does something clever. He allows us to see two things that most people who are like this would be mortified that others know: a self-awareness of their random luck and skills at taking advantage of any situation despite how others are impacted; and the complete self-knowledge of alienation.

What makes Flashman such a loveable or despised character - depending on one's taste, is the honesty he portrays that lies within us. Sometimes we are brave/courageous/heroic in our own right, but we are equally wanting/manipulating/cowardly at times as well. It is how we move within these states that make us who we are and at which point we acknowledge things go from acceptable to disgraceful. We like him because he has an absolute awareness of his limits, faults, and aloneness, yet he makes the best of these things with a zest for life and a flair that seem to ease him in and out of the best and worst of circumstances. Not to mention, a few moments of sheer dumb luck.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

Mercenaries ~ Jack Ludlow

I would hazard a guess that most people reading this blog are well aware of the Battle of Hastings in 1066, where William the Bastard and his Norman forces stripped the Anglo-Saxons of their kingly hold in England, and he eventually become known as William the Conqueror. The topic of this post is not about these Normans. It's about the family that were also stripped of their kingly hold on Normandy because William's father his titles and possessions, including the Dukedom of Normandy to his son. Bastard or not, he was enforcing primogeniture and the de Hauteville's were going to have to make their fortunes elsewhere.



Thirty-three years prior to William's successful campaign in England, he is a young boy who has already been declared the future heir to the Dukedom, much to the consternation of Tancred de Hauteville who has been priming his sons as the future Norman leaders. Who knew Duke Robert would dismiss his son's legitimacy and favour direct blood over convention? Deciding that their fortunes would never be found in Normandy, and probably not even what is now known as France, Tancred's two eldest sons set off on a mission to Italy to hire out their knightly skills, becoming mercenaries.

There is something about this novel that truly appealed to me. I can't really place my finger on it as there are issues, but it has drawn me in, and I want more. While we don't really get too deeply into any of the characters, there is a stand-out in the second eldest son, Drogo. Perhaps the next two books in the series will address this, or there is a reason why we are so well informed about this character rather than William, the older of the two. What this book does do, is give an impression of how complex dealing with different hierarchies within the mercenary world as well as those of the Church and nobility, particularly in the region of what is now known as modern day Italy.

The one criticism I have, and again it may be addressed in the follow-up novels, is the compression of time. I had, incorrectly assumed as it turned out, that this story took place over a period of a year, two at most. That is not at all the case. There is an author's note, but while there is a small explanation about some of the fictionalised elements, there is no real explanation as to why time is not really dealt with in the book itself. But getting past that, I am looking forward to the rest of the series.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy

Attila: The Scourge Of God ~ William Napier

Perhaps I was spoiled watching television productions of Attila, one with the 191cm Gerard Butler, another with the 198cm Rory McCann, both with hair down to their wastes and Glaswegian accents. Maybe I am jaded by the multiple theories about how Aëtius originally met, or why Attila was sent to Rome to begin with. It could very well be that I have no patience with historical fiction about people as children, or if I do, then I'd rather get those details from an adult perspective. I'm not quite sure. What I do know, is that what William Napier offers as the beginning of his trilogy is not at all what I had in mind.



There are a few ways a writer can approach a multi-volume work, specifically in this case a trilogy. One can begin the story with a protagonist's life altering event or milestone, perhaps as a self-reflection, or even through a strategy. One can also start the reader's journey at the beginning, or near enough to it. The last is how Napier chose to begin his trilogy about Attila; a "t'ween" for the lack of a better term, held hostage to ensure a Hun alliance.

The author has used this as a tool to introduce Attila and the three men who would help create the legend that he becomes. They are all boys. They are all already fixed in their future roles and, if one knows the basics of Attila's life, they are already fully wired for what is to come. With the exception of the actual future deceits, battles and betrayals, the story is already told and their balls haven't dropped yet voices have barely cracked.

I make this all seem unfair, and that is a valid argument. The unfortunate thing here is that I review books as single entities, and I do belied that in this particular case, the sum of the trilogy is better than the whole of its parts. That is to say, the trilogy should be analysed as a piece, rather than three and that each individual bit should be viewed as a chapter, or a part within the greater text.

I do wish to be clear; that despite my reservations, I did quite enjoy the writing and the story. I think too, it is quite likely that had I known nothing of Attila, I might have enjoyed the story rather than picking at it. I enjoyed Attila's petulance, Orestes's loyalty and bravery, Stilicho's stoicism in the face of adversity and the general's and Lucius's patience and strength. I winced when the young Hun made questionable choices and cheered when soldiers overcame political ineptitude; but all the while I still kind of felt duped.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy