THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY - Book review

G K Chesterton’s novel The Man Who Was Thursday, subtitled ‘A Nightmare’ was published in 1908. It’s a strange beast, part thriller and part ‘melodramatic moonshine’ as Chesterton called it shortly before he died in 1936. It’s amusing and frustrating and is known to have influenced a number of authors.

Poets Gabriel Syme and Lucian Gregory squabble about the relevance of poetry and the prevailing scourge of anarchism – perhaps influenced by Conrad’s The Secret Agent published a year earlier.

Gregory takes Syme to a secret underground meeting place of anarchists. Here they meet five members of the London branch of the Central Council of New Anarchists – each member is given a codename of a day of the week. There is a vacancy for Thursday: ‘he died through his faith in a hygienic mixture of chalk and water as a substitute for milk, which beverage he regarded as barbaric, and as involving cruelty to the cow’ (p31). Gregory is hoping to be elected as Thursday; however, Syme is appointed instead. The President of the Council is not present; he is called Sunday. Each individual is distinctive with often amusing descriptions.

The attendees are unaware that Syme has been recruited to the New Detective Corps ‘for the frustration of the great conspiracy [anarchy]’ and given a small blue card on which was written ‘The Last Crusade’ (p49).

For much of the book there lingers an air of sinister mystery. ‘The moon was so strong and full, that (by a paradox often to be noticed) it seemed like a weaker sun. It gave, not the sense of bright moonshine, but rather of a dead daylight’ (p49). Sometime later Syme – now Thursday – is to meet the President. ‘Utterly devoid of fear in physical dangers, he was a great deal too sensitive to the smell of spiritual evil. Twice already that night little unmeaning things had peeped out at him almost pruriently, and given him a sense of drawing nearer and nearer to the headquarters of hell’ (p56).

Friday – a very old man, Professor de Worms, was decrepit – ‘in the last dissolution of senile decay (p59). ‘Another hateful fancy crossed Syme’s quivering mind. He could not help thinking that whenever the man moved a leg or arm might fall off’ (p60).

Chesterton has a good descriptive style, and employs telling phrases from time to time. ‘His soul swayed in a vertigo of moral indecision’ (p63). ‘Most of the snow was melted or trampled to mud, but here and there a clot of it still showed grey rather than white in the gloom. The small streets were sloppy and full of pools, which reflected the flaming lamps irregularly, and by accident, like fragments of some other and fallen world’ (p87).

‘The sun on the grass was dry and hot. So in plunging into the wood they had a cool shock of shadow, as of divers who plunge into a dim pool. The inside of the wood was full of shattered sunlight and shaken shadows. They made a sort of shuddering veil, almost recalling the dizziness of a cinematograph... this mere chaos of chiaroscuro (after the daylight outside) seemed to Syme a perfect symbol of the world in which he had been moving for three days...’ (p116/117) Indeed, a Kafkaesque world.

Syme is determined to prevent an anarchist outrage on the Continent and thus is pitted against other members of the Council of Seven Days. This is the best part, the thrill of the chase. There are several twists (which become somewhat laboured and silly) and then there is the ending – an ending signposted by the subtitle, an ending all tyro writers are warned to avoid.

This arguably surreal book has been widely praised – Kingsley Amis said he read it every year – and is categorised as fantasy in more than one respected fantasy encyclopaedia.

RESURRECTION DAY - Book review

Brendan DuBois’s alternate history novel Resurrection Day was published in 1999. The ‘what if?’ scenario is tantalising indeed: What if the Cuban Missile Crisis had become a full-blown war?

It’s 1972, ten years after the nuclear bombs were dropped. Russia was crushed: ‘... no more large cities, no more government. Just tribes of people, trying to survive in muddy villages that could have existed in the Middle Ages, a decade after an entity called SAC had obliterated their nation from the earth’ (p65). California is virtually destroyed, New York has been depopulated, Washington DC lies beneath a giant crater lake. Europe is unscathed – Nato collapsed. Presidential elections are due at the end of the year. What was left of the United States relied on aid from Great Britain; the USA was shamed and ostracised by the international community because it let the nuclear genie out of the bottle.

Carl Landry, ex-US Army, is now a civilian, a journalist on the Boston Globe newspaper. The paper is heavily edited by an army Captain in accordance with the Martial Law Declaration of 1962 and the National Emergency Declaration of 1963. The Land of the Free no longer has free speech. ‘Why torture yourself, remembering  full supermarket shelves, clean clothes, steady power, and a government that didn’t hunt down draft dodgers and didn’t censor the news and didn’t run labour camps for the dissidents, the protesters, the ones that didn’t belong. That time was gone, was never coming back, not ever’ (p99).

Landry is approached by an aging veteran who has some important papers; they arrange to meet next day, but the vet is murdered, his apartment trashed.

Making enquiries, Landry learns of the deaths of the vet’s neighbours and friends. ‘... when the current national death rates and the results of the 1970 census were both kept secret because of national security, well, if life wasn’t cheap, it certainly wasn’t worth much’ (p51).

He begins to dig – and is warned off more than once: ‘Carl knew he had entered the murky land of late-night arrests, ‘disappearances’, and closed-door trials’ (p162). He was also attacked by an orfie gang – comprising feral orphans of the war.

He befriends Sandy Price, a journalist for the Times of London. She’s beautiful and clever. When they are both co-opted on a fact-finding mission to New York for their papers, they jump at the chance. And then things get weird and hairy, not least because there’s a faction that believes President Kennedy didn’t die in Washington, but still lives; his resurrection could screw the forthcoming elections, indeed.

DuBois has managed to create believable and often sympathetic characters, as well as a post-war situation that seems credible. It was an immersive experience. I zipped through the 580 pages in no time.

An impressive addition to the vast library of ‘what if?’ novels.

Editorial comment:

‘Think, he thought. Just take a deep breath and think’ (p471). Probably would have read better like this: Think, dammit. Just take a deep breath and think. No need for ‘he thought’.

Character names: Jim Rowley and Captain Rowland are quite close; never cause confusion but could easily have been more different.

Book review - Not with a whimper

 

The genesis of this recently published novel is not only unusual, it’s heart-warming. Author Pamela Kelt’s father was a writer, working away on his novels on a ‘clunky typewriter, only re-emerging at odd times, looking crumpled and unshaven’. She hadn’t read a word or even seen one of his manuscripts until some twenty years after his untimely death. When she read this manuscript, she became obsessed with getting it published, she felt it was so good. As both her father and she had overdosed on Ambler, Deighton, Le Carré, Chandler and Buchan, she knew a good story and character when she read it. Pamela sent it off with great trepidation to Crooked Cat Publishing… and it was accepted. This acceptance meant more to her than all of her own, I suspect; it was something really special.

If you’ve enjoyed Alistair Maclean, Eric Ambler, Raymond Chandler, Gavin Lyall, and Desmond Bagley, to name a few, then this novel is right up your street – or calle, since it’s set in Spain.

It’s the early 1970s, before the demise of Franco. The narrator, Alan Christian is a recalled British agent sent to discover the truth behind the death of another agent, Lynd, ostensibly a shooting accident. His descriptions are clipped, precise and raise a smile of admiration or even of humour: ‘… over roads with potholes you could have hidden a sniper in…’

Alan’s enquiries move from one eccentric or sinister character after another.  He is also threatened, and in turn threatens others. ‘I said that confidently. I was full of confidence. I oozed confidence. I dripped with it. That was the impression I was trying to create. I even considered whistling.’

 
In typical fashion, Alan gets knocked unconscious by ne’er-do-wells from time to time. And finds himself in strange places and predicaments: ‘I didn’t have to open my eyes to smell the room. You could have bottled that atmosphere and sold it as “instant peasant”.’
 
Of significance is the US naval base, Rota – which is now called Naval Station Rota, Spain. Apparently, the VLF-transmitter Guardamar, which uses Torreta de Guardamar, the tallest man-made structure in the EU as antenna that links Naval Station Rota. [I live close to Guardamar and we can see the antenna…]
 
There’s a conspiracy, and a hare-brained scheme to change the world. It seems that Alan’s meddling is liable to put a Spaniard in the works.

I enjoyed this character-driven thriller very much, not least since it concerned a familiar yet now altered Spain. Alan Christian is of the old school, a polite, honourable, tough, and stubborn man who liked to drink and smoke too much, but most of all cared about the world he lived in. His integrity shines through, despite his bone-breaking travails.

 
If you like your heroes to be world-weary with wit and compassion, then try this posthumous ‘original cold war thriller’.

A shorter version of this review will appear on Amazon et al.

The shot heard round the world

The phrase ‘the shot heard round the world’ has a specific origin but since then has been used as a means to describe various incidents, from world-shattering events to sporting achievements, whether golf, baseball or even darts.

The phrase was coined by Ralph Waldo Emerson in his Concord Hymn of 1836 and it refers to the weapon discharge that signalled the beginning of the American War of Independence, referred to as the American Revolutionary War.

 

Oppressive government was beginning to wear down the colonials in thirteen colonies of British North America and the Massachusetts Colony was ripe for sedition in the spring of 1775. Conflict appeared inevitable and preparations by the Americans went on throughout the previous winter, producing arms and munitions and clandestinely training militia, including the minutemen. The Governor, General Gage, obtained secret knowledge of the preparations and decided to counter them by sending a force out of Boston to confiscate the weapons stored in the village of Concord and also capture the leaders Samuel Adams and John Hancock, who were staying at nearby Lexington.

The atmosphere in Boston was tense and the colonials set up a messaging system to pass on news of the advancing British troops. Paul Revere, a metal-worker, arranged for a signal to be sent by lantern from the steeple of North Church – which figures in that enjoyable film National Treasure. On the night of 18 April, 1775 the lantern alarm was sent and Paul Revere and William Dawes followed it by riding inland to spread the warning. In the pre-dawn light of the following day, the beating drums and peeling church bells summoned about seventy militiamen to the town green of Lexington. They lined up in battle formation as the redcoats approached through the morning fog.

 

My wife Jen and I visited here in July 1997...

 

Statue of a minuteman

 

A skirmish at Lexington during the British advance found the militia outnumbered and they fled. However, at the Old North Bridge that spanned the Concord River, five full companies of minutemen and five non-minutemen militia occupied the hill overlooking the access to the bridge while other supporters continued to stream in, eventually numbering about 500 against the combined force of the British Light Infantry companies totalling about 110 men.

North Bridge

 

The British broke ranks and fled, to be rescued by the reinforcements of the Second Duke of Northumberland. They then marched back to Boston under heavy fire in a tactical withdrawal. In the days following, the Siege of Boston would begin and the French would side with the Americans to help them win the war.

Emerson’s poem was written for the event of dedicating a memorial by the Old North Bridge and it runs:

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard ‘round the world,

The foe long since in silence slept,
Alike the Conqueror silent sleeps,
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone,
That memory may their deed redeem,
When like our sires our sons are gone.

Spirit! who made those freemen dare
To die, or leave their children free,
Bid time and nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and Thee.

Naturally, the shot couldn’t be heard, he was using artistic license, but the repercussions of the first shot were indeed felt around the globe – even to this day. Nobody really knows whether a ‘farmer’ – militiaman – or a soldier of the British army fired the first shot of the Battle of Lexington and Concord.

Another shot that was heard round the world was that which assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand on 28 June, 1914. His killers were Serbian nationalists. The Archduke was in Sarajevo to assert Austrian imperial authority over Bosnia, a Slavic territory.

Painting of the assassination of the Archduke

 

This assassination triggered the cascade of events that quickly produced war, though the causes of the war were multiple and complex. After the assassination, Austro-Hungary didn’t rush into any decision about a response but waited for three weeks while a large part of the army was on leave to help in the gathering of the harvest.

On 23 July, assured by unconditional support of the Germans if war broke out, Austro-Hungary sent an ultimatum to Serbia, and among the demands was that Austrian agents must be allowed to take part in the investigation, since they held Serbia responsible for the assassination. Amazingly, the Serbian Government accepted all the terms, except that of the participation of the Austrian agents in the inquiry, which it saw as a violation of its sovereignty. Austro-Hungary rejected the Serbian reply and broke diplomatic relations and declared war on Serbia on 28 July, proceeding to bombard Belgrade the following day.

This prompted Austro-Hungary and Russia to order the general mobilisation of their armies. The Germans, having pledged their support to Austro-Hungary, sent Russia an ultimatum to stop mobilisation within twelve hours.

On 1 August, the ultimatum having expired, the German ambassador to Russia formally declared war.

The next day, Germany occupied Luxembourg, as a preliminary step in the German’s Schlieffen Plan, which required Germany to attack France first and then Russia. Another ultimatum was delivered to Belgium, requesting free passage for the German army on the way to France. Don’t mind us, while we march through your land to invade your neighbour. Not surprisingly, the Belgians refused.

Almost at the eleventh hour, Kaiser Wilhelm II asked the German generals to cancel the invasion of France in the hope that this would keep Britain out of the war. Horrified by the prospect of the utter ruin of the Schlieffen Plan, the German military refused on the grounds that it would be impossible to change the rail schedule – typical...

On 3 August Germany declared war on France and invaded Belgium the next day. Britain had vacillated over the growing storm clouds, partly due to the monarchy’s connections to the Kaiser, partly due to a reluctance to go to war when still unprepared. Nobody had listened to ‘warmonger’ Churchill. But the violation of Belgian neutrality - to which Prussia, France and Britain were all committed to guarantee - gave Britain little choice but to declare war on Germany on 4 August. Next year will mark 100 years since the beginning of the slaughter of millions of young men, the snuffing out of a generation.

The conflict of the First World War had a profound effect on society and nations and began the disintegration of the British Empire.

Thanks to radio and television, the shot that was actually heard round the world was the bullet that killed President John F Kennedy in Dallas on 22 November, 1963. Well, three shots are supposed to have been heard by witnesses. Kennedy was hit in the head and throat while being driven in a motorcade past the School Book Depository building. Governor Connally was also shot. Kennedy slumped in his wife Jackie’s arms and the limousine was driven at high speed to Parklands Hospital. He died thirty-five minutes after being shot. He was the fourth US president to be assassinated.

The image that is indelibly fixed

Besides changing the course of history, the Kennedy assassination spawned an amazing collection of conspiracy theories, among them: Lyndon Johnson, the CIA, the Mafia, the oil industry, anti-Castro groups, Castro supporters, Krushchev, Freemasons, Onassis and the Illuminati, the Corsican Mafia, the Israelis, Frank Sinatra, Soviet hard-liners and anti-Civil Rights agents in the CIA, many of which are quite fascinating even if totally untrue…