There’s no real reason why novels about the British navy of the Age of Sail must always concern the Napoleonic wars. The British navy has a long history, and stories about an institution finding its feet can be as intrinsically interesting as stories of it at its zenith. J. D. Davies, a historian and an expert on the subject, delivers an extremely entertaining novel in The Mountain of Gold, a sequel to a novel I haven’t read (but need to seek out) called Gentleman Captain.

Matthew Quinton may or may not be the heir to the earldom of Ravensden, depending on whether his older brother ever produces an heir, which seems… unlikely. Then, in a move that shocks everyone, the older brother’s friend, King Charles II, arranges a marriage for him to a beautiful woman of mysterious antecedents. Meanwhile Matthew has returned from a voyage with a prisoner, a brash Irishman who converted to Islam and joined the “Sallee Rovers.” He swears he knows where to find a mountain of gold in Africa, and King Charles, desperately in need of money, sends Matthew on a voyage to find that mountain (and incidentally to start a war with the Dutch). But Matthew has an implacable enemy, in the person of a French commander of the Knights of Malta, who is skillful, relentless, and ruthless. There are also wheels within political wheels, and plots intersecting with plots, and nothing is exactly what its name declares.

The Mountain of Gold was simply a lot of fun to read, an unpretentious, old-fashioned adventure story featuring a sympathetic hero and an interesting cast of characters. I was particularly pleased with its treatment of Christianity. There are Puritans and Cavaliers here, all still smarting from the injuries of the Civil War, but author Davies treats them all with respect.

Highly recommended.

Kindle here. Paperback here.

Note: I used Grammarly to grammar check this post, because they promised me remuneration, and like any good novelist I am for sale. (lw)

People have been telling me I needed to read Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game for years, but I resisted. Science Fiction generally doesn’t interest me a lot, and to be honest Card’s LDS faith put me off. But now the book is coming out as a film, and gay activists want everybody to boycott it because Card’s a pro-family Mormon. So suddenly he’s an ally, and I’m almost obligated to see the film. And if I’m going to do that I might as well read the book. Which I did.

I’m glad I did. It’s very strange, very intense, and heartbreaking.

Andrew (Ender) Wiggin is the result of genetic experimentation in a future where reproduction is regulated by law. His brother and sister were part of the same experiment, and they’re all brilliant, but the brother is a sociopath and the sister too empathetic for the purposes of the program.

The purpose is to create a super-general, a military genius who can lead the forces of Earth against the insectoid “Buggers,” who attacked and nearly destroyed us a generation previously. Knowing we can’t survive another such attack, the world government has created a space station Combat School and filled it with hotshot young students, all of them geniuses. But it’s actually all about Ender. The whole thing exists to hone little Ender (he’s only six when he’s recruited) into a master strategist and tactician, without mercy or hesitancy.

Ender’s compassionate side – which is part of what the government wants from him – agonizes over the choices he has to make, and the things he must do, not only to win the war games but to survive in an environment where several other kids, most of them older than he, envy him enough to kill him. His handlers are ashamed of what they put him through, but they do it anyway, in order to forge their perfect human weapon.

Some have complained that the kids in this book don’t talk like kids, and they’re right. I had to keep reminding myself that these were children and pre-teens. But Card himself responds that we’re talking about geniuses here. There’s nothing normal about the situation. And realism isn’t exactly the point.

I don’t think I’d have guessed a Mormon wrote this book if I hadn’t known beforehand, though there are a couple clues. I was surprised by a kum-bah-ya element in the final resolution. I don’t know enough about LDS theology to know whether they believe (as this story seems to suggest) that there’s no such thing as evil. Or (more likely) I’m reading it wrong.

Intense, compelling. Recommended.

Cheap and free e-books from sources like the Gutenberg Project are increasingly becoming the public libraries of our time. The ability to acquire them for our electronic readers at no charge has (I suspect; I haven’t done a survey) caused an uptick in readership for classic books. And so it is that I finally came to read Charles Dickens’ The Pickwick Papers.

In 1836, the first installment of The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club appeared. It began as an example of a kind of publication which was very popular at the time, and for which I can’t find a technical name. Such books were published in booklet form chapter by chapter, and were a little like comic books. An artist would produce a series of humorous engravings, and a writer would be hired to pen a brief comic description of that action. The idea for The Pickwick Papers was that a group of Londoners would take trips out into the countryside to participate in sporting activities like hunting, fishing, and ice skating, getting shot at, hooked, and dunked for their pains. The artist retained for the project was a prominent illustrator named Robert Seymour, and the writer they hired was a young up-and-comer named Charles Dickens.

Dickens had entirely different ideas for the project than what Seymour had counted on. Dickens wanted fewer pictures and more text, and he wanted the pictures to follow the text instead of the other way around. Seymour was very unhappy with this plan, and expressed his views through the eloquent means of committing suicide with a shotgun. But publishing is publishing, and another artist was secured, and then another when he didn’t work out. This third artist was Hablot Knight Browne (better known as “Phiz”), who would forever after be the artist most associated with Dickens’ work. As the episodes in the series appeared, it became more and more an illustrated novel, and a bestseller, and Charles Dickens became an international celebrity.

The evolution of the project is very apparent as the reader proceeds. The first chapters are “funny” in a dated sort of way, but the reader (or at least this one) finds himself wondering whether this is all there is to be to it. Dickens clearly felt the same way, and as the story goes on the comedy of character comes to replace the comedy of slapstick. Gradually we see the development of the classic Dickens story, in which the emphasis is on exaggerated characters with funny names, and social criticism.

When Mr. Pickwick comes to hire Sam Weller, a Cockney bootblack he meets at an inn, as his personal valet, the story finds its footing. Pickwick and Sam are very different characters from Bertie Wooster and Jeeves, but I think we could call them their ancestors, in terms of the nature of their master-servant relationship. Though Pickwick is no idiot like Bertie, his areas of innocence concerning the world make it necessary for Sam, who genuinely loves him, to act as a sort of rough-hewn nursemaid and counselor.

The great crisis of the story is the prosecution of Mr. Pickwick for breach of promise, due to a misunderstanding. In a few harrowing chapters, Dickens gets the opportunity to describe the hellish world of the English debtor’s prison of that time, a world he himself knew too well from his childhood.

In Call Each River Jordan, one of the novels in Owen Parry’s (Ralph Peters’) Abel Jones Civil War mystery series, Abel meets an English valet who praises The Pickwick Papers to the skies. It is the only novel in the world, as far as he is concerned. He reads it constantly, over and over again, and no other novel. Abel, a strict Methodist, rejects such worldly amusements. And it’s just as well, because Methodists don’t come off very well in Pickwick. The Methodists described here are pure hypocrites, drinking heavily while preaching abstention, and leading flocks of silly women astray. In a particular section of the book, the chief Methodist “shepherd” berates Sam’s father in an offensively self-righteous way, simultaneous with an act of genuine Christian grace to an old enemy on Mr. Pickwick’s part. All of this is entirely in line with Dickens’ known opinions on religion, but I think it’s a little hard on Methodists.

Still, a book worth reading, for the reader who can work through an older style of writing (and of humor).

I’m going to take a chance here and review a book that will not be acceptable to a fair number of you. I appreciate that, and I understand. My recommendation is conditional.

To get the objections out of the way, I’ll say that Edward Adrift by Craig Lancaster contains a lot of profanity. This is because the main character is a high functioning man with Asperger’s Syndrome. He uses foul language because he repeats what he hears, and doesn’t really understand why some words are OK and some aren’t. A major character in the story tries to get him to stop, and he doesn’t resent it.

Also the approach to sex was uncomfortable for me. Not because there’s explicit sex, but because a scene that involves only a kiss and some petting is portrayed so intimately that I (personally) found it hard to read. But that may be because I score fairly high on the Asperger’s scale myself (though I don’t qualify for the diagnosis), and I identified more than most people would. The attitudes toward sex generally, in this book, are very contemporary and have little if anything to do with biblical morality.

OK, having warned you of these things I’ll go on to say that I found Edward Adrift engrossing and moving.

2011 has not been a good year for Edward Stanton. First of all, his best friends, a family across the street, moved away from his neighborhood in Billings, Montana to Butte. Then the counselor who’d helped him better relate to the world retired and turned him over to another doctor, whom he doesn’t yet trust. Then he was fired from his custodial job at the newspaper. One of the Dragnet videotapes he always watched at 10:00 every night broke, so of course he had to throw the whole set out. Getting diagnosed with diabetes was almost good news for him, because it gave him a reason to start keeping a new list. He loves lists.

But when he gets a call from Donna, one of the neighbors who moved away, that her son Kyle, his best buddy, is becoming uncontrollable and failing at school, Edward makes the (for him) heroic choice to drive his car to Butte and see if he can help. This movement outside his comfort zone sets him up for an adventure in which he’ll do things he’d never imagined.

I thought some elements of this story, especially its resolution, were a little beyond credibility. But I nevertheless read it with fascination and was moved by it.

Just be warned about the language and stuff.