Black Ajax by George MacDonald Fraser

(Book Review)

Why I Read This Book/Connections with Flashman

          I read this book because it is a tie-in to the Flashman series

.           In addition to the 12 official books ofthe Flashman series, George MacDonald Fraser wrote two more tie-in books: one is Mr American, in which Flashman is a supporting character (which I read previously) and the other is Black Ajax.

            Black Ajax takes place in the early 1800s, which is a few years before Flashman’s time.  (The first Flashman book  takes place in the 1840s.)  But Flashman’s father, Captain Buckley (“Mad Buck”) Flashman is one of the main characters. (And, since the whole story is told in the form of interviews looking back in time from a later perspective, a few brief references are made to the younger Flashman himself.)

The Plot

          Although historical fiction, this novel is based on a true story.  George MacDonald Fraser has rescued from the historical archives the strange but fascinating story of Tom Molineaux (W), a black American ex-slave who became a famous boxer in England during the Napoleonic Wars.

            The story is told in the form of interviews with a number of witnesses, some real (Paddington Jones (W) and Bill Richmond (W)) and some fictional (Buckley Flashman).

The Review

          This is the 14th book I’ve read by George MacDonald Fraser, so I guess it should come as no surprise that I find his prose highly readable.  And that’s the case here as well.  I found this book very readable, and George MacDonald Fraser’s storytelling abilities to be as engrossing as usual.

            The fact that I wasn’t interested in the subject matter of the book—I have absolutely no interest in boxing— was a minor impediment, but the story is well-told enough that you don’t really have to be a sports fan.

            Enjoyability of the book aside, there are 3 areas of the book that caught my attention

1) Boxing and British culture

2) Regency Britain

3) and George MacDonald Fraser’s handling of slavery and racism.

            I’ll deal with these in order. First

Boxing and British Culture

            I don’t know a lot about boxing.  A few years ago, I thought that boxing was an American sport.  After all, all the boxing greats are always Americans, right?

            But apparently boxing is primarily a properly British institution. At least according to George MacDonald Fraser.

            Actually this idea has popped up a few times before in my reading list.  It was a major plot point of Royal Flash (both the book and the movie) that the German Otto Von Bismarck can not appreciate the British sport of boxing, and has to be taught a painful lesson by a British boxer in order to acknowledge the level of skill involved.

            In Twenty Years After, the French author Alexandre Dumas also describes the British fascination with boxing.  After the Musketeers demonstrate their talent in boxing in London, they are acclaimed by the English mob. 

            Dumas, who was writing in the 1840s but describing the 1640s, may have been committing an anachronism here.  Or not—I don’t know.  (How far back does the history of boxing culture in Britain go?) But at any rate, by the 1840s boxing was apparently regarded as a well established part of British culture on the continent.

            In this book, one of the major themes George MacDonald Fraser wants to emphasize is how important boxing was to the British during the Napoleonic Wars:

            As Buckley Flashman says:

            The war had much to do with that [the popularity of boxing], you know. Well ‘twas natural enough to compare the mills [boxing matches] with the sterner battles abroad and see in the pugs the sterner stuff that had held the French at bay so many years. I remember Clarence, our late king, holding forth for the hundredth time about the set-to between Gully and Pearce, which fell in the same month as Trafalgar.

            “Was not one an echo of t’other?” says he. “Damme, I say it was! Could anyone doubt, who saw those two noble fellows at blows, that we were better men than the French or the Spaniards or the dam’ Danes an’ the rest o’ that continental rabble? No, sir! Why sir? ‘Cos we learn from our cradle to fight like men, not like back-stabbin’ dagoes or throat-slittin’ Frogs. They have their stilettos, we have our fists. We fight clean, sir, an’ hard, an’ don’t cry quits while we can stand on our feet! Why, sir? ‘Cos we’re Englishmen, an’ boxin’s our game, an’ makes us what we are, an’ be damned to ‘em!” (p. 63-64).

            One of the themes of this book is that what is remembered in history books isn’t necessarily what the people of the time were concerned with.  History remembers the early 1800s as the time of the madness of King George, and the Napoleonic Wars.  But people in England were obsessed with the scandals of the fashionable set, and the boxing matches.  George MacDonald Fraser (through his characters) asserts that people of the time were more concerned about the outcome of the boxing matches in England than about the war in Europe.

            It’s an interesting little piece of cultural history, that even a non-sports fan like me can appreciate.

            As interesting as all this is, however, I’m still not a fan of boxing.  If two men are in a boxing ring, and I don’t know either of them, I really don’t care which one of them beats the other senseless.  And the idea of two men beating each other senseless for the amusement of the spectators revolts me.

            This was especially true back in the 1800s, when the boxing match would last for a (seemingly) unlimited number of rounds.  When describing the fight between Tom Molineaux and Tom Cribb, George MacDonald Fraser details a fight that went on for 34 rounds, fifty-five minutes, and which wrecked the bodies of both men.  And I’m thinking: “This is just cruel!   Why not just stop the fight after 3 rounds and 15 minutes?”

            It’s difficult to tell exactly where George MacDonald Fraser stands on the issue.  On the one hand, he gives in graphic detail the brutality of the boxing matches.  On the other hand, he (or at least his characters) spend a lot of time praising the skill and science of boxing.

            I suppose this is the sign of a good author—he’s skilled enough to leave some ambiguity about the subject and let the reader make their own decisions.

Regency Britain

          This ties in a bit with the above section, but one of the delights of reading any of George MacDonald Fraser’s books is the historical details and digressions he gives on any story he is telling.

            And so, although this story is nominally about the boxer Tom Molineaux, Fraser also uses the story as a launching point for various digressions on English culture. 

            This is especially true in the interviews with Buckley Flashman, who seems to share his son’s habit of going on long digressions, much to the annoyance of his interviewer.  After the interviewers asks Buckley Flashman about Tom Molineaux, Flashman instead goes off for several pages describing society in Regency Britain, until he is finally pressed by his interviewer to return to the subject, at which point Flashman exclaims:

            What’s this to do with Molineaux? Why, to impress upon you what a light-minded crew of sensation-seekers Society was, ripe for any novelty—female, criminal or sporting for choice—and because it pleases me to hold forth at length while sampling this excellent drop o’ short. So don’t dam’ well interrupt. We’ll come to the Dusky Miller presently.

            Speaking of sport, there was a mighty stink at Newmarket about that time….

            (p.53-54)

            ….And it’s another 10 pages before Flashman gets around to finally talking about Tom Molineaux.

            If you’re interested in this sort of thing, it’s all fascinating period detail.

            Buckley Flashman advances the theory that the reason Victorian Britain was so uptight in its morals, and Regency Britain was so loose in its morals, was all because of the examples that the respective monarchs set for their subjects.

            As Buckley Flashman says to his interviewer:

            Now, you’re too young, I take it, to remember London in the old days—in the French war, I mean, before the Regency? Just so. Well, if you’re to understand about Molineaux, and how he came to make such an almighty stir, and so forth, I must set you right about that time. ‘Twas as different from today as junk from Offley’s beef. Free and easy and jolly, no one giving a dam, churches half-empty and hells packed full, fashion and frolic the occupations, and sport the religion…A few sobersides fretted about morality and revolution, but since most o’ the country was three-parts drunk, nobody minded them. The Town was on the spree, and we were “on the Town”.

            Hard to swallow, eh, for your serious generation, taking your lead from our sedate young Queen, God bless her, and her pump-faced German noodle—ah, there’s the difference, in a nutshell! You  have the muff Albert, God help you, pious, worthy, dull as a wet Sabbath and dressed like a dead Quaker; we had fat Prinny, boozy and cheery and chasing skirt, in the pink of fashion as cut by Scott and approved by Brummel. That’s the difference thirty years has made. Your statesmen don’t gamble or fight duels; there ain’t one trace-kciker among your Society women; royalty don’t fornicate or have turn-ups at coronations nowadays; and what noble lord trains a prize pug or flees to France with the duns in full cry? (p.49-50)

            I’ve heard this explanation before by other writers. (In fact, this is pretty much the standard explanation, isn’t it?)  Personally, I find it a bit hard to credit that the morals of the monarch would have that much of an influence on something as large as society, but I’m not expert enough to contest it.

And finally, one last point:

George MacDonald Fraser’s Handling of Slavery and Racism

            This is a story that touches on not a few sensitive issues in British and American history—the horrors of slavery, and the more subtle issues of racism.

            George MacDonald Fraser, who used to take pride in being politically incorrect [SEE ARTICLE HERE] might not be the best person to handle this story.

            As with all issues of political sensitivity, this is ultimately a judgment call.  Some people will have no problem with this book, others will cringe slightly when reading the descriptions of slavery.

            I’m reminded of the controversy surrounding the Quentin Tarantino film Django.  (As of this writing, I haven’t yet gotten around to seeing Django, but I followed the controversy when it came out.)  Some people praised Django for faithfully depicting the brutality of slavery.  Others wondered if Django wasn’t exploiting the tragedy of slavery to make a trashy revenge movie.

            The same question could be raised of this book.  On the one hand, George MacDonald Fraser fully brings home the brutality of a system in which human beings are simply treated as a piece of property.

            But on the other hand…

            There is a perverted French character in this novel, someone who is obviously meant to act like a stand-in for the Marquis de Sade, who takes sadistic pleasure in sexually tormenting the female slaves.  I’m sure some people would argue that this depiction is meant as a condemnation of the slavery system, but reading those sections I wondered whether we might have crossed the line from a serious examination of the subject into something else entirely.

            (Well, love him or hate him, nothing George MacDonald Fraser writes is ever boring—I’ll give him that much.)

            Once the action switches to Britain, there’s a bit of a conflicted message about racism in 19th century England.  George MacDonald Fraser is never shy about praising his native country, and he is at pains to emphasize the contrast between British and American racial attitudes.  In America, Tom Molineaux was nothing more than a piece of property.  In Britain, he was able to achieve fame, fortune, and even rub shoulders with the aristocracy and royalty.  This point is emphasized a few times over.

            However there was a color barrier even in Britain, and Tom Molineaux did run up against it.  As one character describes it:

            He [Tom Molineaux] did not like us….  He did not believe we treated him fair. Nor did we, sir.  We robbed him o’ the Championship of England, and we abused and insulted and made mock of him when he was doing his best and showing us milling [boxing] as good as any … he was a stranger in a strange land, and the Fancy [boxing fraternity] at his fights was never what you’d call even-handed, were they?  Natural enough…but we could ha’ been kinder. (p.227-228)

            The story of a struggle against racism is sympathetic to black people, but sometimes the language this story is told in is not so sympathetic.

            Like the Flashman novels, this book is told from the perspective of the participants themselves, without an omniscient narrator.  And the participants tell their stories through the prism of their own language and prejudices.  As with the Flashman series, this narrative device means the book is filled with politically incorrect language and ideas, but the reader is meant to understand that this represents 19th century prejudices, and not objective reality.  Nevertheless, if racially insensitive language makes you uncomfortable, then best to avoid this book.  The “N-word” is used not a few times in this book.  (But then, it would be used by characters of that time, wouldn’t it?)

            For me, it’s the character of Tom Molineaux that made me more uncomfortable than anything else.  The way he’s written in this book, he could easily have been a 19th century Black Sambo stereotype.  He’s repeatedly described as simple, stupid, obstinate, completely lacking in self-control, over-sexed (with an obsession for white women), and an alcoholic.

            How much criticism should George MacDonald Fraser get for this? How much of this portrayal is based on historical fact?  (And how accurate were 19th century sources?) 

            Must all black people always be treated as saints? And if not, how much leeway does a novelist have to portray a black character in a negative light before a line is crossed? 

           

            The saving grace of this novel is that Tom Molineaux’s flaws are never portrayed as being representative of his whole race—other black characters, like Bill Richmond, are portrayed as being much more intelligent and rational.

            And as the real Tom Molineaux did die from alcoholism at a young age (W), it can’t be denied that at least some of his character flaws are a matter of history. 

            And yet, even so, George MacDonald Fraser’s portrayal of Tom Molineaux struck me as too simplistic and too close to traditional stereotypes.  A complex negative portrait of Tom Molineaux I could have lived with, but this portrayal of him as being simple-minded, over-sexed, and out of control around alcohol and white women, made me uncomfortable.

            Yet another Flashman book that I found to be highly readable, but that I’d think twice about before recommending.

Link of the Day
Noam Chomsky: Can Civilization Survive Capitalism? Capitalism as it exists today is radically incompatible with democracy.

Black Ajax by George MacDonald Fraser: Book Review

Mr American by George MacDonald Fraser

(Book Review)

Why I Read This Book

          After finishing the Flashman series (for all my Flashman reviews see here), I decided I might as well knock this book off too.

            This book is not officially part of the Flashman series, but it’s by the same author, and Flashman is one of the characters.  (I had previously characterized Flashman’s role in this book as a cameo, but after having read the book, I think Flashman plays a big enough role that it is safe to call him one of the supporting characters.)

The Review

          Not at all what I expected, but a wonderful book nonetheless.

            I imagine that, like me, many people track down and read this book solely because of the Flashman connection.  So it’s a little bit of a surprise to discover how unlike the Flashman series this book actually is.

            The Flashman books were fast paced, often adventurous or humorous, always irreverent, mostly exotic, with lots of scandalous liaisons with foreign women and grizzly deaths.  In other words: they’re pretty low brow.

            This book, by contrast, is much more serious. 

           

            But the biggest difference between this and the regular Flashman series is the pacing.  Flashman usually moved at a pretty fast clip from one disaster to another.  This book is intent on taking its time. 

            The slow pace of the book, and the in depth, blow by blow description of old fashioned aristocratic parties and social gatherings, reminded me a lot of War and Peace.

            I know, it’s probably sacrilege to compare a Flashman book to War and Peace. And yet it strikes me that even if the two books are dissimilar in talent, they are at least similar in ambition.

            In both books, the plot is only of secondary importance.  The real purpose, in both books, is to describe, in as much detail as possible, all the aspects of life during a certain time period.

            Both authors were removed from their subject material by roughly the same amount of time.  (Tolstoy was writing in 1869 to describe Russia in the early 1800s, Fraser was writing in 1980 to describe England in the early 1900s.)  And consequently, both were trying to describe a period that had only just gone out of living memory.

            Fraser is intent on recreating as much of Edwardian England as is possible within the pages of his book.  He recreates everything from the local taverns, to the political discussions, to the streets of London, to the aristocratic parties, to the theater, to the cab drivers.

            As with War and Peace, the key to enjoying this book is be in the right frame of mind.  If you start to get impatient, you’re going to hate this book.  But if you just allow yourself to get absorbed in all the period details, you’ll love this book.

            The good news is that George MacDonald Fraser pulls the thing off.  Like Tolstoy in War and Peace, Fraser accomplishes his recreation of the past not with long boring descriptions, but by recreating scenes of life.  And he does it well.

            For example in one section Fraser spends 30 pages just describing a party.  I know that sounds pretty boring, but when you actually read those pages, it’s not boring at all.  In fact I was glued to those pages as I read them.  (I’m usually a pretty slow reader, but I got completely absorbed in this book and couldn’t put it down.)

            Although I thoroughly enjoyed the Flashman series, this is a whole different side of Fraser, and it’s apparent he was much more talented as a writer than I had previously given him credit for.

            It’s always difficult to dissect good prose and determine what exactly makes it work (especially for us non-literary types), but whatever it is, Fraser has it.

            The style of the book is probably best illustrated with an excerpt.  This is from page 14-16, just after Mr. Franklin has gotten off the boat at Liverpool:

            Once outside the Customs shed, Mr Franklin paused to examine the railway timetable board; there were, he saw, five companies competing to carry him to London on Monday. After some deliberation, he decided on London and North-western, which undertook to convey him to Euston in something over four hours, via Crewe and Rugby, for 29 shillings first-class. Just under six dollars, in fact. It was the fastest train, not that that could matter to a man who had not taken the special vestibuled boat-train for Atlantic passengers which was even now pulling out of Riverside Station with a shrilling of steam.

            His porter was waiting at the cab rank, and on his inquiring whether the gentleman wish to travel by taxi or horse cab, Mr Franklin fixed him with a thoughtful grey eye and asked what the fare might be.

            “Cab’s a shillin’ a mile, taxi’s sixpence a half-mile an’ twopence every sixth of a mile after that,” replied the porter.

            “And how far is the Adelphi Hotel?” asked Mr Franklin.

            This innocent question caused some consternation among the taxi-men and cab drivers; some thought it would be about a mile, if not slightly more, but there was a school of thought that held it was a bare mile by the shortest route. No one knew for certain, and finally the porter, a practical man who wanted to get back to the Customs shed for another client, settled the matter by spitting and declaring emphatically:

            “It’ll cost you a shillin’ anyways.”

            Mr Franklin nodded judiciously, indicated a horse-cab, and then paid the porter. He seemed to be having some difficulty with the massive British copper coins, to which he was plainly unaccustomed, and the tiny silver “doll’s-eye” threepence which he eventually bestowed; the porter sighed and reflected that this was a damned queer Yank; most of them scattered their money like water.

            This was not lost on the cabby, who mentally abandoned the notion of suggesting that he take his passenger by way of Rodney Street—which would have added at least sixpence to the fare—there to gaze on Number 62, the birthplace of the late Mr Gladstone. Americans, in his experience, loved to see the sights, and would exclaim at the Grand Old Man’s childhood home and add as much as a shilling to the tip. An even better bet was the house in Brunswick Street where Nathaniel Hawthorne had kept his office as U.S. Consul in the middle of the previous century, but somehow, the cabby reflected morosely, this particular American didn’t look as though he’d be interested in the author of Tanglewood and the Scarlet Letter either.

            The cab drew out of the quayside gates and up the long pier to the main street at the top, where the electric trams clanged and rumbled and a slow-moving stream of traffic, most of it horse-drawn, but with the occasional motor here and there, slowed the cab to a walk.  The cabby noted that his fare was sitting forward, surveying the scene with the air of a man who is intent on drinking everything in, but giving no sign of whether he found it pleasing or otherwise. For the cabby’s money, central Liverpool was not an inspiring sight in any weather, with its bustling pavements and dirty over-crowded streets and he was genuinely startled when after some little distance his passenger called out sharply to him to hold on. He was staring intently down the street which they were crossing, a long, grimy thoroughfare of chandlers’ shops and warehouses; he was smiling, the wondering cabby noticed, in a strange, faraway fashion, as though seeing something that wasn’t there at all.  He was humming, too, gently under his breath, as he surveyed the long seedy stretch of ugly buildings and cobbles on which the rain was beginning to fall.

            The book is heavy on description, but it’s never too much.  There’s just the right amount of eye for detail that absorbs you in the scene without losing momentum entirely.

            And although it’s not evident in the section I quoted above, there’s also a lot of dialogue in this book.  Much of the dialogue has little bearing on the plot, but the characters are fun to listen to, and the dialogue does serve the purpose of creating the scene.  Every so often a couple of important plot points are dropped into the dialogue to pique your interest a little bit more, but then once the plot is hinted at, the dialogue will go off in another direction, and the plot of this novel is only gradually revealed. 

            Because the book is heavy on description and dialogue, there isn’t much plot in this 585 page book. But what little plot there is, is teased out only gradually, and part of the pleasure of reading this book is to have the plot gradually revealed. Knowing too  much of the plot in advance would spoil the book, so for that reason I’ll carry on  further discussion about the plot below the spoiler warning.

SPOILERS (and other observations)

* Given that the tone of this book is completely different than the Flashman series, I suppose the usual detailed Flashman footnotes would have spoiled everything.  The footnotes would have taken you out of the story, and Fraser has done so much work to absorb you into the setting.

            But that being said, I kind of missed the footnotes a little bit.  In the Flashman books, Fraser always let you know how much of the story was based on real history, and what his sources were.

            Since there are real historical characters and events mixed in with the plot of Mr American, it would be nice to know where Fraser’s sources come from.  How much of his detailed description of Edward VII, for example, is based on research, and how much of it is creative license?

* As I said above, there isn’t much plot in this book, but Fraser does a remarkably good job of creating a lot of interest in a small bit of story by setting up little mysteries and points of suspense, and then letting these points simmer for long periods of time as they are only gradually revealed.  Who is this strange American? Why did he come to England?  How did he get his money?  What secrets is he hiding about his past?

            And then a whole other set of questions is created about his relationship with Peggy.  Does Peggy really love him?  Is she being faithful?  What did she really want the money for?

            In my opinion, however, once all the initial mysteries and questions have been resolved, the book lags a little bit.  In the middle section (the whole section with Pip and the art show, and then the trial of Helen Cessford), I found I was losing interest in the plot because most of the mysterious questions had been answered.  I wasn’t sure what the point of the book was anymore, and I had lost my reason to keep turning the pages.

            I think in the middle section Fraser slightly overplays his hand.  In the beginning of the book, the plot unfolds very slowly, but he’s still able to keep interest because the reader knows he’s setting up a story, and the reader want to see where he’s going.

            However once all the chess pieces are on the table, then the same pacing doesn’t work.  It’s a small complaint, but I think the book would have been better if the pacing of the story had gradually speeded up as you went along.

            Also I confess that I just wasn’t that interested in Helen Cessford or her story arch.  (I didn’t care about Helen Cessford because Fraser didn’t give me a reason to care. Fraser apparently has a bit of an axe to grind against the suffragette movement, so Helen Cessford comes across as loud, arrogant, hypocritical, and unlikeable.  Although the appearance of Helen’s great uncle, Flashman, in this section does make up for a lot.)

            The good news is that my interest in the story returned near the end, once the murder investigation began.

            The ending of the book is slightly disappointing because it’s so anti climatic.  And yet, I can’t really complain about it, because the whole style of the book is so subdued that I had suspected all along there would be no big climax at the end.

* More War and Peace connections:

            I half suspect that the connections between War and Peace are not coincidental, and that Fraser may have had War and Peace in his mind as a model when he wrote this book.

            In addition to the similarities mentioned above, both books integrate historical characters and real characters, and provide fictional portraits of the ruling monarchs or their period.  Both books are primarily focused on the lifestyles of the upper-classes, but both books provide portraits of the privileged class at just a time when their way of life was about to be turned upside down by a world war.

            Fraser even explicitly states this theme at times, for example in describing the week just before the outbreak of World War I:

            This week like so many others, that generations would back on with a kind of disbelief and wonder, because it belonged to a world that no one would ever see again, the last ray of a setting sun that had risen in some misty, historic time before anyone could remember and had shone brightly over a gradually changing but still comfortingly consistent scene, and was now about to go down at last. And what everyone would remember was how calm and untroubled it had been, with no possible hint of how the gears of time were about to change for millions of ordinary folk, clashing into a new and frightening revolution as the human race rushed suddenly into a new dark age.  But in that week nobody knew. Nobody could possibly know. (p. 518).

            Also, the marriage between Mark Franklin and Peggy Clayton reminded me a lot of the marriage between Pierre Bezukhov and Princess Helen.  In both cases, a rich man is seduced into marrying a beautiful woman, and only afterwards discovers that their relationship is based on money, and that she doesn’t care for him at all (or in Peggy’s case, only cares for the relationship on her own terms).

            Also, just as Pierre falls in love with Natasha Rostova while trapped in his marriage, so Mark Franklin finds himself intrigued (if not in love) with both Pip and Helen Cessford. 

            I thought Franklin was going to end up escaping from his marriage with Peggy and ending up with one of these other women as Pierre did in War and Peace, but to my surprise Fraser went for a different ending.

            Another difference is that Fraser uses the character of an outsider to allow him an excuse to go into detailed descriptions of Edwardian English society.  Mark Franklin, fresh off the boat from America, needs to learn everything, from how to interact at the local small town pub to how to behave at a royal party.  Tolstoy, of course, gives us a description of early 1800s Russian society entirely from an insider’s view.

* Flashman connections:  

            This book, taking place between 1910 and 1914, shows Flashman at age 88 to 92, what I can only assume is near the end of his life, and is the last chronological appearance of Flashman in Fraser’s fiction.

            However, in terms of publication order, this book is right in the middle of the Flashman canon.  It was published in 1980, and Fraser would go on to write 6 more Flashman books before he died in 2008.

            Some of the later books would go on to better flesh out Flashman’s relationship with Edward VII. 

            In Mr American, we see that Flashman and Edward VII know each other (both speak of the other distastefully) but they hardly seem to have been intimates or have much of a shared history.

            In one of the later books, Flashman and the Redskins, however, Flashman reminisces:
King Teddy's company is something I'd sooner avoid than not, anyway, for he's no better than an upper-class hooligan. Of course, he's been pretty leery of me for forty-odd years (ever since I misguided his youthful footsteps into an actress's bed, in fact, and brought Papa Albert's divine wrath down on his fat head) and when he finally wheezed his way on to the throne I gather he thought of dropping me altogether - said something about my being Falstaff to his Prince Hal.

            In Flashman and the Tiger a whole chapter of the book is devoted to Flashman helping Edward VII (then the Prince of Wales) out of the Baccarat scandal (W).  (Actually being Flashman, he just ends up making the scandal worse, but he was supposed to be helping.)

           In retrospect then, it seems a little strange that none of this was mentioned by either party in Mr American.  (Granted this isn’t a hard example of a continuity error.  You could easily just explain this away by positing that neither Flashman nor Edward VII cared to be reminded of their shared history with each other.  And yet, I’m pretty sure that if Mr American had been written after the other Flashman books instead of before, Fraser would have included some passing reference to this history.)

*The politics of Flashman:

            In this section I rely heavily on inferences, and don’t really know what I’m talking about, so feel free to skip this last part.

            But if you’ve been following my Flashman reviews, you’ll know that I imagine a shift in political opinion between the early Flashman books and the late Flashman books.  The early Flashman books seem to be anti-interventionalist. However the later Flashman books seem to take a pro-interventionalist view of the British Empire—the idea that the world has a lot of problems, and many of these problems are best sorted out by sending in the British Army.

            In terms of publication date Mr American is one of the earlier Flashman books, and it seems more in company with the anti-interventionalist politics of the other early Flashman books, as evidenced in this Flashman speech:

            Mr Franklin….asked the General [Flashman] what he thought of the war situation.  The old man shrugged.

            “Contemptible—but of course it always is.  We should stay out, and to hell with Belgium. After all, it’s stretching things to say we’re committed to ’em, and we’d be doing ’em a favour—and the Frogs, too.”

            “By not protecting them, you mean?  I don’t quite see that.*

            “You wouldn’t—because like most idiots you think of war as being between states—coloured blobs on the map. You think if we can keep Belgium green, or whatever colour it is, instead of Prussian blue, then hurrah for everyone.  But war ain’t between coloured blobs—it’s between people.  You know what people are, I suppose?—chaps in trousers and women in skirts, and kids in small clothes. … imagine yourself a Belgian—in Liege, say.  Along come the Prussians, and invade you. What about it?—a few cars commandeered, a shop or two looted, half a dozen girls knocked up, a provost marshal installed, and the storm’s passed.  Fierce fighting with the Frogs, who squeal like hell because Britain refuses to help, the Germans reach Paris, peace concluded and that’s that.  And there you are, getting on with your garden in Liege. But—” the General waged a bony finger. “Suppose Britain helps—sends forces to aid little Belgium—and the Frogs—against the Teuton horde?  What then?  Belgian resistance is stiffened, the Frogs manage to stop the invaders, a hell of a war is waged all over Belgium and north-east France, and after God knows how much slaughter and destruction the Germans are beat—or not, as the case may be.  How’s Liege doing?  I’ll tell you—it’s a bloody shambles.  You’re lying mangled in your cabbage patch, you’re wife’s had her legs blown off, your daughters have been raped, and your house is a mass or rubble. You’re a lot better off for British intervention, ain’t you?” (p. 530)

            And on the following page Flashman continues:

            “…I could take all the asses who’ll be waving flags and cheering and crowding the recruiting office—take ’em all by one collective arm, and say: ‘Now then, Jack, you know what you’re cheering for? You’re cheering at the prospect of having a soft-nosed bullet fired into your pelvis, shattering the bone and spreading it in splinters all through your intestines, and dying in agony two days later—or, if you’re really unlucky, surviving for a lifetime of pain, unable to walk, a burden to everyone and a dam’ nuisance to the country that will pay you a pension you can’t live off.  That, Jack,’ I’d tell ’em, ‘is what you’re cheering for.’…”

            So it seems to me that this book is much more in line with the earlier anti-interventionalist politics of the earlier Flashman books, and that Fraser’s views might have changed with the subject over time.

            All that being said, I must admit that there is a hole in my theory.  There was at least one pro-interventionalist Flashman book published before this one: Flashman’s Lady, published in 1977--which took a positive view of the British intervention in Borneo (albeit in that case by James Brooks, a private adventurer and not an official government representative, but still….)

            So, how to explain that?  Well, it could be the change was gradual. Flashman’s Lady was at first just an aberration from Fraser’s usual views, but later on these views became more and more the norm.

            Or, it could be that I’ve been looking at this thing all wrong.  I’ve been trying to cram Fraser into my own ideological lens (which is anti-imperialist and non-interventionalist) and only analyzing him by the narrow criteria of whether he is for or against my views.

            But it could be that Fraser takes a more nuanced view of war than I do.  Perhaps he believes in some wars, he just doesn’t believe in stupid wars (like the Afghanistan War, the Crimean War and World War I)

.

            I may not even be fairly characterizing him, but let me offer a quick rebuttal to this point of view anyway:

            When writing historical fiction, Fraser is writing with the full benefit of hindsight.  He’s able to argue against the stupidity of World War I, because in hindsight everyone knows how stupid and pointless that war was.

            At the time, however, it was not so clear.  At the beginning of the war this seemed to people like something that was really important.  There was a real sense of urgency, and people believed the very fate of Western civilization and democracy were at stake, and this swept up even people who should have known better (like the Second Socialist International  (W) and Kropotkin (W).)  There was also so much propaganda and misinformation at the outbreak of the War that supporters of the war were not making fully informed decisions.

            And in fact we’ve seen the same pattern of misinformation at the beginning of the Vietnam War and the most recent Iraq War.

            So if you take the position that war is sometimes justified, sooner or later you’re going to find yourself supporting a stupid war, and then regretting it.

            But like I said, I may not be even fairly characterizing Fraser’s views. 

            If anyone out there knows more about Fraser’s politics, or can put the Flashman series into a consistent ideological framework, let me

Link of the Day
Fantasies

Mr American by George MacDonald Fraser: Book Review

Links to stuff mentioned: 

* Introduction to the Flashman series: https://youtu.be/K2EH55L1Zsw

* My review of War and Peace: https://youtu.be/4dtCa_0GbK8

Check out this movie on Amazon: https://amzn.to/3BX69ZN       (This is an Amazon Associate's Link.  If you buy anything through that link, I get a commission.)

Flashman and the Mountain of Light by George MacDonald Fraser

(Book Review)

            Another Flashman book.  See also:  Flashman, Royal Flash, Flash for Freedom, Flashman at the Charge, Flashman and the Great Game, Flashman's Lady , Flashman and the Redskins, Flashman and the Dragon,  Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, Flashman and the Tiger, Flashman on the March, and the original source material Tom Brown's Schooldays by Thomas Hughes.

            This book finds Flashman in the middle of the first Sikh War (1845-1846).

            Since I knew absolutely nothing about the first Sikh War, I got quite an education from this book.  And being a history geek, I enjoyed every minute of it.  (If you like history, these Flashman books are a real treat.)

           

            There’s a lot of interesting stuff in this book.  George MacDonald Fraser pulls off an exotic tale at the frontiers of British India that has plenty of espionage, intrigue and bizarre twists, most of which actually turn out surprisingly to be historical.

            George MacDonald Fraser also highlights some of the more colorful European and American adventurers in India during the period, such as Alexander Gardner (W) and Josiah Harlan (W), the latter of whom was the inspiration for Rudyard Kipling’s The Man Who Would Be King.

            The book also includes some very interesting descriptions of the great battles of the Sikh War.

            Something that both George MacDonald Fraser and our narrator Flashman are at pains to emphasize is that, contrary to common misconception, the Sikh War, and many of the other British Imperial wars, were not fought against disorganized unarmed savages, but instead fought against a well-armed army trained on the European model.  To quote from Flashman: “That was the thing about the Khalsa [Sikh Army]: it was Aldershot in turbans. It was an army.

            That’s worth bearing in mind when you hear some smart alec holding forth about our imperial wars being one-sided massacres of poor club-waving heathen mown down by Gatlings.  Oh, it happened, at Ulundi and Washita and Omdurman—but ….our detractors never mentioned armies like the Khalsa, every bit as well-armed and equipped as we were.  So how did we hold India?  You’ll see presently.” (p. 58)

            The story culminates, then, with some great battles involving heavy artillery that to me seemed more like a Napoleonic battle than an Indian War.  One of the battles is even described as the “Indian Waterloo.”

            If you’re curious about this period of history, and you like a good exotic adventure story, this book is a lot of fun to read.

Historical Accuracy

          I know nothing about the Sikh Wars, so don’t put too much stock into my opinions.

            However that being said, one criticism I have heard about the Flashman series in general is that George MacDonald Fraser relies too much on sensationalist Victorian era reports instead of more sober and balanced histories.

            I suspect that might be the case here.  As always, George MacDonald Fraser has everything in the book meticulously backed up by historical endnotes, but some of the details in this book about the debauchery, orgies, and intrigue in the court of Lahore seem to read like they may have been exaggerated by credulous Victorians. (Although again, I really don’t know anything, so I’m not in a position to make a judgment.  This is just my suspicion.)

            As with some of the other books in the Flashman series, this book is probably an example of orientalism (W)—the kind of book that emphasizes the exoticness and strangeness of Eastern cultures to create a more interesting story for Western audiences.

            Of course whether this is a negative point or not depends entirely on your perspective.  I have a good friend who is a fellow Flashman fan, and when I mentioned this point to him he replied, “I’d actually say that’s the best thing about the Flashman books.  Some people may criticize George MacDonald Fraser for using sensationalist Victorian sources, but I’d praise him for it.  He’s correct to go back to the most exciting and interesting sources and use those to make his story.  That’s the kind of history that’s the most interesting to read.”

            And he may be right.  I just bring up the issue so that a potential reader knows beforehand what they’re getting into.  But if exotic oriental adventures sound more your thing than a sober boring history, then this is the book for you.

The Politics

          I’ve mentioned this before in previous reviews, but it seems to me that the politics of these Flashman books have changed along the way.

            The first 5 books in the series seemed to be a criticism of the British Empire and the imperial mindset.

            Starting with book 6, Flashman’s Lady, the books actually became a defense of British (and sometimes American) imperialism.

          One of two things happened: either 1) George MacDonald Fraser got more conservative as he grew older, or 2) he had actually been conservative all along, and I just thought the early books were anti-imperial because I was mistakenly reading my own views into the books.  (At some point I should probably re-read the early Flashman books and see how they fare under a second reading.)

            The early Flashman books focused on the British disaster in Afghanistan, the pointless bloodbath that was the Crimean War, and showed the results of British misrule in India during the Indian Mutiny.

            In the later Flashman books, George MacDonald Fraser defends the British imperial legacy in Borneo, the second Opium War, and in Ethiopia, (and at least some aspects of the United States policy against the American-Indians).

          In this book, George MacDonald Fraser defends the British policy during the Sikh Wars.  He portrays the British government as simply wanting peace and stability in the Punjab, and forced into a war by the aggression of the Sikhs.

            Sir Henry Hardinge, who had hoped for a more peaceful resolution to the Sutlej crisis, is represented as short-sighted and arrogant, and those favoring a more aggressive British policy (George Broadfoot and Sir Hugh Gough) come off as much more competent and far sighted.

            George MacDonald Fraser is aware that some other historians have placed the blame for the origin of the Sikh War on the British government (he cites Cunningham’s 1849 work History of the Sikhs), but he attempts to write a rebuttal of this in one of his appendixes:

            It is easy to say that with a powerful, arrogant Khalsa bent on invasion, war was inevitable; no one in the Punjab could restrain them (or wanted to), so what could the British do but prepare to meet the storm? Something, according to Cunningham, a most respected historian, who believed that, while the Khalsa took the initiative, the British were “mainly to blame” for the war. His conclusions have been eagerly seized in some quarters, but his argument boils down to the suggestion that Britain, “an intelligent power” faced with “a half barbarous military dominion”, should have acted with more wisdom and foresight.  It is rather lofty, even for 1849, and perhaps “equally” or “partially” would be fairer than “mainly.” (Appendix 1: The Sutlej Crisis, p. 365)

            Which view is accurate?  Someone who actually knows their facts will have to answer this question.  I have no idea.  For all I know, George MacDonald Fraser may well be right.

            And yet, there are parts of this book which lead me to suspect that our narrator Flashman (and our author George MacDonald Fraser) have started to view history through a more belligerent and pro-imperial stance that would have been out of place in the earlier books.

           

            For example, in one of the earlier Flashman books, Flashman at the Charge, these are Flashman’s thoughts as he surveys the wreckage after the battlefield at Crimea.  (The Crimean War occurred after the Sikh War, but it comes from an earlier Flashman book because they are not always written in chronological order.)  Here Flashman is talking about what he'd like to do to the War-mongers back in England who had started the whole slaughter.

            The camp ground was littered with spent shot and rubbish and broken gear among the pools of congealed blood – my stars, wouldn’t I just like to take one of our Ministers, or street-corner orators, or blood-lusting, breakfast-scoffing papas, over such a place as the Alma Hills – not to let him see, because he’d just tut-tut and look anguished and have a good pray and not care a damn – but to shoot him in the belly with a soft-nosed bullet and let him die screaming where he belonged. That’s all they deserve.

            Contrast that, if you will, with Flashman’s thoughts after witnessing the slaughter of the Sikhs in this book:

            They say ten thousand Khalsa died in the Sutlej. Well, I don’t mind and I still don’t.  They started it, and hell mend them, as old Colin Campbell used to say. And if you tell me that every man’s death diminishes me, I’ll retort that it diminishes him a hell of a sight more, and if he’s a Khalsa Sikh, servers him right.

            Knowing me, you won’t marvel at my callousness, but you may wonder why Paddy Gough, as kindly an old stick as ever patted a toddler’s head, hammered ‘em so mercilessly when they were beat and running.  Well, he had good reasons, one being that you don’t let up on a courageous adversary until he hollers “Uncle!”, which the Sikhs ain’t inclined to do—and I wouldn’t trust ‘em if they did. Nor do you feel much charity towards an enemy who never takes prisoners, and absolutely enjoys chopping up wounded, as happened at Sobraon and Ferozeshah both. Even if Gough had wanted to stop the slaughter, I doubt if anyone would have heeded him.

            But the best reason for murdering the Khalsa was that if enough of the brutes had escaped, the whole beastly business would have been to do again, with consequent loss of British and Sepoy lives. That’s something the moralists overlook (or more likely don’t give a dam about) when they cry: “Pity the beaten foe!” What they’re saying, in effect, is “Kill our fellows tomorrow rather then the enemy today.” But they don’t care to have it put to them like that; they want their wars won clean and comfortable, with a clear conscience. (Their consciences being much more precious than their own soldiers’ lives, you understand.)  Well, that’s fine, if you’re sitting in the Liberal Club with a bellyful of port on top of your dinner, but if you rang the bell and it was answered not by a steward with a napkin but an Akali with a tulwar, you might change your mind.  Distance always lends enlightenment to the view I’ve noticed. (p. 344-345—tulwar means Sikh sword in Hindi)

          As Flashman is an anti-hero, I suppose I should be cautious about assuming his views are synonymous with George MacDonald Fraser (although Fraser will usually make a note in the endnotes when he wants to disassociate himself from Flashman’s analysis, something he doesn’t do here.)  Either way, this is a far cry from Flashman’s views in Flashman at the Charge.

           

            And so, as with several of the previous Flashman books, I’m not sure I entirely approve of the pro-imperial politics of this book, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the story.

            Put this down as another guilty pleasure.

          [Lest I be unfair, there’s at least one passage that harkens back to the old Flashman, the critic of Victorian morality.  Flashman is put in a position where it may be to Britain’s advantage if he can seduce a foreign princess and he notes with pleasure how uncomfortable the whole thing makes his superiors.  As Flashman relates: He [George Broadfoot] had the conscience of his time, you see, Bible-reared and shunning sin, and the thought that my success in Lahore might depend on fornication set him a fine ethical problem.  He couldn’t solve it—I doubt if Dr. Arnold and Cardinal Newman could, either. (“I say, your eminence, what price Flashy’s salvation if he breaks the seventh commandment for his country’s sake?” “That depends, doctor, on whether the randy young pig enjoyed it.”) Of course, if it had been slaughter, not adultery, that was necessary, none of my pious generation would even have blinked—soldier’s duty, you see. (p. 49-50).]

Notes

* As you can see from some of the above quotes, Flashman our narrator uses a lot of Indian words as he tells his story. 

            I suspect this is to give the story more authenticity.  I’m told that the British community stationed in India picked up a lot of the local words, which they would intermix with English in their conversations with each other to develop a unique sort of expatriate dialect.  (The expatriate community in Japan does the same thing, by the way, so I can easily imagine it).  And George MacDonald Fraser spent some time in India, where he apparently acquired some of this lingo himself.

            However, I’m not sure I entirely sure I appreciated the linguistic education.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find all those trips back to the glossary a tad annoying.

* I have now finished all 12 Flashman books (see list above).  I read the books slightly out of order because I’m in Asia and it was difficult to track the books down exactly in order. So I’m actually finishing on book 9 out of 12, but this is nevertheless the end of the Flashman series for me.  Although I’ve noted my quibbles with this or that along the way, on the whole it’s been an enjoyable reading experience.

            Although this is the end of the official Flashman series, Flashman and his family do reportedly make cameo appearances in some other George MacDonald Fraser books: Mr. American (A) and Black Ajax (A).  And Flashman also reportedly pops up in yet other books by other writers (W). 

            I’m not sure yet if I’ll get to these other books or not, but as always if I read them, I’ll add them to my book review list.

* For another review with a similar point of view to mine--SEE HERE

Link of the Day  

Interview on the Syrian Revolution

Flashman and the Mountain of Light by George MacDonald Fraser: Book Review

Links to stuff mentioned: 

Flashman Series Playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOY-0V_l_9x6a1zLr2frPxaOg8k0hOBlj

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins: Book Review: https://youtu.be/nTnAPgzMtQc