By Frederick Forsyth
This is the fifth novel written by that master of his trade, Frederick Forsyth. I thoroughly enjoyed the first four, all masterpieces of creativity, research, and imagination.
Forsyth excels in introducing many disparate threads and, over 400 pages, interweaving them into a thrilling conclusion. This one is more of the same.
By Dava Sobel
I’ve long been entranced by space, ever since I was a little kid. There occured many occasions, perhaps before I hit double figures, where my child’s mind would try to get my head around the fact that before there was nothing … there was something.
It was phenomenal to me to envisage that way back when, before people, before the things from which people spawned, before ooze, before rocks and desert, when there was nothing at all … there was something.
This book stands out in the Sharpe series in that it is predominantly based in England and the only fighting occurs in the prologue and epilogue. That means that this book is entirely carried on storyline, without the frequent “kill some frogs” tactic that he uses to liven things up normally.
I mean, if the plot is getting dull, all I have to do is wheel on forty thousand frogs and mow them down – everyone’s happy again!
Such a good book!
I started it yesterday morning whilst Radio made a blog post. I tried maybe a chapter before succumbing to sleep yesterday evening, and then killed the rest of it during today.
The war is over, a vanquished Napoleon forced to abdicate and exiled to Elba.
By Bernard Cornwell
This was one of the books I recently took on holiday with me, and it was the first to be started during the journey.
I had been looking forward to it because, of the original series, it is the first appearance of Obadiah Hakeswill.
I wasn’t let down: He’s downright rotten here.
By Bernard Cornwell
This story was written at ITV’s request, since they wanted another programme to broadcast. Cornwell wasn’t able to finish the book in time to meet production deadlines, so the endings are very different.
By Dava Sobel
I was looking for a book on Galileo and found out that Dava Sobel had written one. Well, this had me expecting great things, because I read her brilliant book on longitude a couple of years ago.
This book is a little bit different to standard fare though. Galileo had two daughters. Both were born out of wedlock, so he sent them to a convent. One of them, the elder, Virginia, went by the convent name Suor Maria Celeste, and wrote frequent letters to her father throughout their lives, sometimes as many as two a week.
The author intersperses her narrative with letters from Maria Celeste throughout the book.
By Kenneth Katzner
Some sources cite 6809 languages in the world, a figure that I have quoted myself in presentations. This book, of course, only covers a fraction of them, going into any sort of detail in only about 200 cases.
By Bernard Cornwell
A really creative plot goes into this story. I’m an unusual Sharpe fan in that I don’t like the battle scenes. It’s nothing to do with squeamishness; I just find several pages describing a skirmish and the tactics used during it a little tediousness.
I didn’t have to contend with that in this story. There was only the one battle, and that was in the end and covered in a couple of pages.
Cornwell really hits a niche in creating memorable, dangerous villains. It’s not enough to have great hulking men; these are just the sergeants! The villains all have traits that make them worthy of fear, all in a more sinister way than merely killing people.
By John Fisher
Tommy Cooper died before I could register any memory of him, but I still know who he was. It’s hard not to: He wore that distinctive fez, had the most popular catchphrase of any entertainer, and is continually voted in the upper echelon of Britain’s favourite comedians, behind whatever the flavour of the month is when the vote is taken.
I’d noticed this biography in a bookshop window whilst walking through town on my way to the office and thought nothing more of it.
A few hours later, one of my colleagues started giggling to herself. Her son had sent her an email of Cooper gags, and she passed them on to me. Well, I started laughing too.
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