What do you think?
Rate this book
Aubrey & Maturin #18
The Yellow Admiral
Life ashore may once again be the undoing of Jack Aubrey in The Yellow Admiral, Patrick O'Brian's best-selling novel and eighteenth volume in the Aubrey/Maturin series. Aubrey, now a considerable though impoverished landowner, has dimmed his prospects at the Admiralty by his erratic voting as a Member of Parliament; he is feuding with his neighbor, a man with strong Navy connections who wants to enclose the common land between their estates; he is on even worse terms with his wife, Sophie, whose mother has ferreted out a most damaging trove of old personal letters. Even Jack's exploits at sea turn sour: in the storm waters off Brest he captures a French privateer laden with gold and ivory, but this at the expense of missing a signal and deserting his post. Worst of all, in the spring of 1814, peace breaks out, and this feeds into Jack's private fears for his career.
Fortunately, Jack is not left to his own devices. Stephen Maturin returns from a mission in France with the news that the Chileans, to secure their independence, require a navy, and the service of English officers. Jack is savoring this apparent reprieve for his career, as well as Sophie's forgiveness, when he receives an urgent dispatch ordering him to Gibraltar: Napoleon has escaped from Elba.
Fortunately, Jack is not left to his own devices. Stephen Maturin returns from a mission in France with the news that the Chileans, to secure their independence, require a navy, and the service of English officers. Jack is savoring this apparent reprieve for his career, as well as Sophie's forgiveness, when he receives an urgent dispatch ordering him to Gibraltar: Napoleon has escaped from Elba.
262 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1996
About the author
Patrick O'Brian
313 books2,274 followersPatrick O'Brian's acclaimed Aubrey-Maturin series of historical novels has been described as "a masterpiece" (David Mamet, New York Times), "addictively readable" (Patrick T. Reardon, Chicago Tribune), and "the best historical novels ever written" (Richard Snow, New York Times Book Review), which "should have been on those lists of the greatest novels of the 20th century" (George Will).
Set in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars, O'Brian's twenty-volume series centers on the enduring friendship between naval officer Jack Aubrey and physician (and spy) Stephen Maturin. The Far Side of the World, the tenth book in the series, was adapted into a 2003 film directed by Peter Weir and starring Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany. The film was nominated for ten Oscars, including Best Picture. The books are now available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book format.
In addition to the Aubrey-Maturin novels, Patrick O'Brian wrote several books including the novels Testimonies, The Golden Ocean, and The Unknown Shore, as well as biographies of Joseph Banks and Picasso. He translated many works from French into English, among them the novels and memoirs of Simone de Beauvoir, the first volume of Jean Lacouture's biography of Charles de Gaulle, and famed fugitive Henri Cherriere's memoir Papillon. O'Brian died in January 2000.
The Aubrey-Maturin Series on Goodreads
Set in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars, O'Brian's twenty-volume series centers on the enduring friendship between naval officer Jack Aubrey and physician (and spy) Stephen Maturin. The Far Side of the World, the tenth book in the series, was adapted into a 2003 film directed by Peter Weir and starring Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany. The film was nominated for ten Oscars, including Best Picture. The books are now available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book format.
In addition to the Aubrey-Maturin novels, Patrick O'Brian wrote several books including the novels Testimonies, The Golden Ocean, and The Unknown Shore, as well as biographies of Joseph Banks and Picasso. He translated many works from French into English, among them the novels and memoirs of Simone de Beauvoir, the first volume of Jean Lacouture's biography of Charles de Gaulle, and famed fugitive Henri Cherriere's memoir Papillon. O'Brian died in January 2000.
The Aubrey-Maturin Series on Goodreads
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 308 reviews
November 30, 2017
"Everyone knows that on a large scale democracy is pernicious nonsense - a country or even a county cannot be run by a self-seeking parcel of tub-thumping politicians working on popular emotion, rousing the mob."
- Patrick O'Brian, The Yellow Admiral
Many rate this near the bottom of the Aubrey-Maturin series. There isn't anything very exciting happening (a few minor skirmishes, naval politics, domestic politics, etc). The war is winding down. Captain Aubrey finds himself serving under an admiral who doesn't like him and who he is in conflict with him regarding some local political disagreements. Mostly, it is a bridge novel. But even with that, it is still frequently magical.
The relationship between Aubrey and his wife provides some moving prose, and there is a whole section where Aubrey is explaining to Maturin about the politics and economics of the common which was one of the best exegesis on the conflicts surrounding common lands, inclosures, rival interests, etc. Basically, O'Brian is showing off a bit. In the Commons Act of 1876 a mechanism was provided for inclosing common lands and fields. Since this novel takes place around 1814, this was an issue that was relevant to land owners and peasants all across England, and O'Brian gives the issue a weight and (dare I say) a beauty that is impossible to find in an economic history of the issue. I loved this book, and probably gave it an extra star, just for the way O'Brian discussed this issue. It was fascinating without completley hijacking the book. Like many of O'Brian's divergent stories or subjects, they all seem to fit the narrative AND also exist almost distinct from the story too. This way of writing reminds me a bit of Hugo's unabriged Les Misérables, where Hugo would often trail off for 80-120 pages to discuss the battle of Waterloo, or the history of a convent, etc. Obviously, O'Brian's scale is a bit smaller than Hugo, but the effect is very similar.
- Patrick O'Brian, The Yellow Admiral
Many rate this near the bottom of the Aubrey-Maturin series. There isn't anything very exciting happening (a few minor skirmishes, naval politics, domestic politics, etc). The war is winding down. Captain Aubrey finds himself serving under an admiral who doesn't like him and who he is in conflict with him regarding some local political disagreements. Mostly, it is a bridge novel. But even with that, it is still frequently magical.
The relationship between Aubrey and his wife provides some moving prose, and there is a whole section where Aubrey is explaining to Maturin about the politics and economics of the common which was one of the best exegesis on the conflicts surrounding common lands, inclosures, rival interests, etc. Basically, O'Brian is showing off a bit. In the Commons Act of 1876 a mechanism was provided for inclosing common lands and fields. Since this novel takes place around 1814, this was an issue that was relevant to land owners and peasants all across England, and O'Brian gives the issue a weight and (dare I say) a beauty that is impossible to find in an economic history of the issue. I loved this book, and probably gave it an extra star, just for the way O'Brian discussed this issue. It was fascinating without completley hijacking the book. Like many of O'Brian's divergent stories or subjects, they all seem to fit the narrative AND also exist almost distinct from the story too. This way of writing reminds me a bit of Hugo's unabriged Les Misérables, where Hugo would often trail off for 80-120 pages to discuss the battle of Waterloo, or the history of a convent, etc. Obviously, O'Brian's scale is a bit smaller than Hugo, but the effect is very similar.
December 28, 2020
I found these books to be terribly intimidating when I first started the series. It seemed as though I was entering an entirely male world with a detailed technical vocabulary of its own. But now, as I sat down to read this eighteenth installment of the series, it was like sitting down to tea with old friends. The technical language is still there, but it has become a familiar patois in the background. The characters are still mostly male, but it hardly seems to matter since they are such deep and fully human characters.
I continue to be amazed at Patrick O’Brian’s prowess as an author. It’s not only that he tells a good tale: he continues telling good and original tales throughout an incredibly long series. I’m generally averse to long series because they become predictable, but with this series they simply become endearingly familiar. Each book has its own twists and turns, its own character studies and musings on human nature. The reflective passages are just as engaging as the suspenseful battle scenes. I enjoy entering into the complex world of 19th century British naval affairs, but even more I enjoy deepening my understanding of O’Brian’s marvelous characters. There are only a few more novels in the series, and I know I will find myself missing Jack and Stephen when I finish.
I continue to be amazed at Patrick O’Brian’s prowess as an author. It’s not only that he tells a good tale: he continues telling good and original tales throughout an incredibly long series. I’m generally averse to long series because they become predictable, but with this series they simply become endearingly familiar. Each book has its own twists and turns, its own character studies and musings on human nature. The reflective passages are just as engaging as the suspenseful battle scenes. I enjoy entering into the complex world of 19th century British naval affairs, but even more I enjoy deepening my understanding of O’Brian’s marvelous characters. There are only a few more novels in the series, and I know I will find myself missing Jack and Stephen when I finish.
September 18, 2020
3.5 - 4 stars
Poor old Jack certainly has a rough go of it this time around. Despite the great (one might even say excessive) success of his mission in Africa as far as prizes go, Jack find himself once again on the edge of penury when some of the slave-ship owners come forward with documented ‘protection’ which ties up most of Jack’s assets in court. To make matters worse some old letters from a former lover of Jack’s surface leaving his marriage most definitely on the rocks. To put the plum on the pudding he is assigned to the Brest blockade under the command of an admiral that views him with a more than jaundiced eye due to Jack’s scotching of the man’s schemes to enclose land for which Jack is the titular manorial lord. Hanging over all of this is Jack’s fear that even should he proceed up the ladder of promotion, with the war seemingly near its end and his political and financial prospects shrinking before his eyes, he is more than likely to become a ‘Yellow Admiral’ of the title: an admiral in name only, who has the command of no squadron and lives on half-pay. While Jack struggles with his professional and personal woes Stephen engages in various espionage activities and his endeavours prove to be rather more successful than those of his friend.
Much of the events of the book occur on land and I am finding that I enjoy the books in the series where this is the case even more than the ones that take place solely on the briny deeps. I think one reason may be that it allows O’Brian to display a bit more versatility in his storytelling, and perhaps because it also tends to give Maturin a bit more of the spotlight. Don’t get me wrong, Jack is a fine fellow indeed, and his cheery good nature and naval brilliance are always welcome, but there is just something about Stephen’s perhaps more patchy personality that draws me to him. This was an enjoyable volume in the series and my only real complaint would probably be that the books are getting shorter and shorter as we near the end of the series. Ah well, there is always re-reading at least.
Poor old Jack certainly has a rough go of it this time around. Despite the great (one might even say excessive) success of his mission in Africa as far as prizes go, Jack find himself once again on the edge of penury when some of the slave-ship owners come forward with documented ‘protection’ which ties up most of Jack’s assets in court. To make matters worse some old letters from a former lover of Jack’s surface leaving his marriage most definitely on the rocks. To put the plum on the pudding he is assigned to the Brest blockade under the command of an admiral that views him with a more than jaundiced eye due to Jack’s scotching of the man’s schemes to enclose land for which Jack is the titular manorial lord. Hanging over all of this is Jack’s fear that even should he proceed up the ladder of promotion, with the war seemingly near its end and his political and financial prospects shrinking before his eyes, he is more than likely to become a ‘Yellow Admiral’ of the title: an admiral in name only, who has the command of no squadron and lives on half-pay. While Jack struggles with his professional and personal woes Stephen engages in various espionage activities and his endeavours prove to be rather more successful than those of his friend.
Much of the events of the book occur on land and I am finding that I enjoy the books in the series where this is the case even more than the ones that take place solely on the briny deeps. I think one reason may be that it allows O’Brian to display a bit more versatility in his storytelling, and perhaps because it also tends to give Maturin a bit more of the spotlight. Don’t get me wrong, Jack is a fine fellow indeed, and his cheery good nature and naval brilliance are always welcome, but there is just something about Stephen’s perhaps more patchy personality that draws me to him. This was an enjoyable volume in the series and my only real complaint would probably be that the books are getting shorter and shorter as we near the end of the series. Ah well, there is always re-reading at least.
August 8, 2023
Delightful as always, and leaves off on a hopeful note for Jack and Stephen's next adventures.
Is this the last time I shall hear Simon Vance narrate a Patrick O'Brian audiobook? Sadly feels that way since the O'Brian estate no longer allows these editions to be sold.
August 2023 Update:
It was not! I just finished re-listening and will now, at last, listen to Vance narrate The Hundred Days!
Is this the last time I shall hear Simon Vance narrate a Patrick O'Brian audiobook? Sadly feels that way since the O'Brian estate no longer allows these editions to be sold.
August 2023 Update:
It was not! I just finished re-listening and will now, at last, listen to Vance narrate The Hundred Days!
July 25, 2024
This book's main focus was not on exciting naval battles but on the dangers of internal British Naval politics to your career. Jack Aubrey made an enemy of an Admiral when he thwarted a plan to enclose the Commons by the nephew. The Commons were lands open to all farmers but some wanted to fence it off to create big farms. Jack Aubrey was a hero to the little people but his blocking of enclosure made him an enemy in the highest ranks of the Navy. The Admiral's main goal was to have Captain Aubrey put in a rear Admiral position with low pay and no influence or what is called a Yellow Admiral. The blockade of the French coast proves less hazardous than being on the bad side of a powerful man. The Admiral uses every trick in the book to ruin the captain's career but he is foiled by pure luck and his friend Stephen Maturin's cleverness.
June 24, 2019
The One Where Barrett Bonden Boxes Bareknuckled. I’m always so happy to be in the company of these good people. This was a fairly mellow entry in the saga, but everyone showed up which is really all I need at this point. :)
August 5, 2023
Old issues are sewn up, new threads come loose. The war is coming to an end at last. Peace should be a time of joy, but as far as our hero Lucky Captain Jack Aubrey is concerned, peace creates problems of its own!
As the title suggests, this is about "the yellow admiral". It's a pejorative term sailors would use when referring to a post captain who is made an admiral. But instead of being assigned one of the active stations and given the title of say Admiral of the Red or Blue, he is said to be yellowed, tossed on shore in a sort of ignominious retirement because you're unwanted for any number of reasons, usually political or a fault in your service record. In peace time there are few naval jobs going around, so the chances of being yellowed are even greater. It would feel like a dishonorable end to an otherwise fairly illustrious career for Aubrey. He is deathly afraid of being yellowed. His friend, surgeon and intelligence agent, Stephen Maturin is working double tides to avert that possibility through a South American scheme. Much of the tension within this book is "will he, won't he" such as you'd find in a romance novel. In this case, the main character is wed to the Naval service and wooing a fickle mistress.
Speaking of which, in The Yellow Admiral Aubrey's up to his neck in the infidelity soup...again! The man simply can not keep it in his pants! The best thing for him is to get to sea. A long blockade of Brest should help keep his hands off the stuff!
Book 18 in Patrick O'Brian's wonderful seafaring Aubrey/Maturin series takes the reader away from naval matters quite often and at length. I honestly don't think I need to learn anything more about land enclosure practices in rural England during the Georgian Era into the Regency Period. Also, while I enjoy the controlled chaos that is boxing, this book could have done with a shorter scene regarding a barroom brawl that turns into a proper prize fight. As much as I love one of the principles (as a character, of course, pffft...I know they're not real people, come on!), the whole episode carries on longer than necessary. And there's a lot of home life scenes and affairs to deal with ashore, where Aubrey is always a fish out of water. It's all interesting stuff in its own way, but it's just not as exciting as the naval actions and spy stuff.
If you've never read these books, but had a copy of The Yellow Admiral and wanted to just dive into the series without starting at the beginning (a terrible idea, btw, but that's not the point), I couldn't recommend doing it with this particular book. There just isn't enough action, nor a super tightly wound plot to wow you. What you have here is a solid, moving-the-story-along series book. I enjoyed the heck out of it, but that's because I already love the whole dang series. I've read them all over and over again.
However, it's been so long since I've read the last three or four books in this series that I forgot exactly in which of them occurs a devastating double tragedy. I thought it was the previous one. When it didn't happen, I was SURE that it was this book. Guess not!
I read this about ten years ago and gave it three stars then. I'm giving it four stars now. I think the extra star is due to familiarity, a love for this series and respect for the quality of O'Brian's writing. Even when "nothing" is happening, these books are nonetheless a pure joy to read!
As the title suggests, this is about "the yellow admiral". It's a pejorative term sailors would use when referring to a post captain who is made an admiral. But instead of being assigned one of the active stations and given the title of say Admiral of the Red or Blue, he is said to be yellowed, tossed on shore in a sort of ignominious retirement because you're unwanted for any number of reasons, usually political or a fault in your service record. In peace time there are few naval jobs going around, so the chances of being yellowed are even greater. It would feel like a dishonorable end to an otherwise fairly illustrious career for Aubrey. He is deathly afraid of being yellowed. His friend, surgeon and intelligence agent, Stephen Maturin is working double tides to avert that possibility through a South American scheme. Much of the tension within this book is "will he, won't he" such as you'd find in a romance novel. In this case, the main character is wed to the Naval service and wooing a fickle mistress.
Speaking of which, in The Yellow Admiral Aubrey's up to his neck in the infidelity soup...again! The man simply can not keep it in his pants! The best thing for him is to get to sea. A long blockade of Brest should help keep his hands off the stuff!
Book 18 in Patrick O'Brian's wonderful seafaring Aubrey/Maturin series takes the reader away from naval matters quite often and at length. I honestly don't think I need to learn anything more about land enclosure practices in rural England during the Georgian Era into the Regency Period. Also, while I enjoy the controlled chaos that is boxing, this book could have done with a shorter scene regarding a barroom brawl that turns into a proper prize fight. As much as I love one of the principles (as a character, of course, pffft...I know they're not real people, come on!), the whole episode carries on longer than necessary. And there's a lot of home life scenes and affairs to deal with ashore, where Aubrey is always a fish out of water. It's all interesting stuff in its own way, but it's just not as exciting as the naval actions and spy stuff.
If you've never read these books, but had a copy of The Yellow Admiral and wanted to just dive into the series without starting at the beginning (a terrible idea, btw, but that's not the point), I couldn't recommend doing it with this particular book. There just isn't enough action, nor a super tightly wound plot to wow you. What you have here is a solid, moving-the-story-along series book. I enjoyed the heck out of it, but that's because I already love the whole dang series. I've read them all over and over again.
However, it's been so long since I've read the last three or four books in this series that I forgot exactly in which of them occurs a devastating double tragedy. I thought it was the previous one. When it didn't happen, I was SURE that it was this book. Guess not!
I read this about ten years ago and gave it three stars then. I'm giving it four stars now. I think the extra star is due to familiarity, a love for this series and respect for the quality of O'Brian's writing. Even when "nothing" is happening, these books are nonetheless a pure joy to read!
July 19, 2021
Sempre di più, sempre meglio.
O'Brian riesce a non deludere e a non smentirsi neanche al diciottesimo capitolo della serie; inizio a pensare che il vero sintomo della genialità (o quantomeno un ingrediente essenziale di essa) sia questa formidabile costanza: la performance di Bolt ma su una distanza da maratoneta.
Ci sono battaglie e burrasche al largo dell'isola di Ouessant, così coinvolgenti e così ben descritte che il lettore si alzerà dalla poltrona (o dalla sdraio) bagnato fradicio, ma ci sono anche tanti mesi trascorsi sulla terraferma - è forse uno degli episodi più terricoli, insieme a Costa sottovento e a Il rovescio della medaglia - e nella squisita ambientazione del Dorset non solo si ritrovano le atmosfere di Jane Austen, non solo si apprende qualcosa sulla recinzione (sarebbe a dire come una sorta di "privatizzazione") delle terre comuni, ma si segue con infinito piacere l'amicizia di questi due protagonisti, la storia delle rispettive famiglie e di tutto l'entourage, non ci si stanca più di stare in loro compagnia.
Ed ecco che ancora una volta O'Brian cala il suo consueto asso: nelle ultimissime pagine, il colpo di scena finale in quel di Madera altro non è che il prologo del volume successivo. Bravo chi riesce a moderarsi e a staccarsi da tutto questo e a seguire i piani di lettura... io non so rinunciare alla tentazione, e procedo subito con I cento giorni.
O'Brian riesce a non deludere e a non smentirsi neanche al diciottesimo capitolo della serie; inizio a pensare che il vero sintomo della genialità (o quantomeno un ingrediente essenziale di essa) sia questa formidabile costanza: la performance di Bolt ma su una distanza da maratoneta.
Ci sono battaglie e burrasche al largo dell'isola di Ouessant, così coinvolgenti e così ben descritte che il lettore si alzerà dalla poltrona (o dalla sdraio) bagnato fradicio, ma ci sono anche tanti mesi trascorsi sulla terraferma - è forse uno degli episodi più terricoli, insieme a Costa sottovento e a Il rovescio della medaglia - e nella squisita ambientazione del Dorset non solo si ritrovano le atmosfere di Jane Austen, non solo si apprende qualcosa sulla recinzione (sarebbe a dire come una sorta di "privatizzazione") delle terre comuni, ma si segue con infinito piacere l'amicizia di questi due protagonisti, la storia delle rispettive famiglie e di tutto l'entourage, non ci si stanca più di stare in loro compagnia.
Ed ecco che ancora una volta O'Brian cala il suo consueto asso: nelle ultimissime pagine, il colpo di scena finale in quel di Madera altro non è che il prologo del volume successivo. Bravo chi riesce a moderarsi e a staccarsi da tutto questo e a seguire i piani di lettura... io non so rinunciare alla tentazione, e procedo subito con I cento giorni.
December 21, 2021
Read this book in 2009, and its the 18th wonderful volume of the amazing "Aubrey/ Maturin" series.
In this novel Aubrey is living ashore and feeling miserable, not only with his wife but also with his neighbour, who has strong Navy connections.
Aubrey has made enemies in Parliament due to his erratic voting as a Member of Parliament, that's the view of those in power of course,.
Eventually he is recalled to sea service in the Navy, and in the stormy waters off Brest he will capture a French privateer laden with much gold and ivory, but at the expense of missing a signal and thus deserting his post.
Not only has he begun this action too soon, but worst of all in the Spring of AD 1814 peace breaks out, but to his rescue comes Maturin, after a secret mission in France, with the news that the Chileans need a Navy after acquiring independence, and the service of English officers.
But before Aubrey and Maturin can sail for Chile, they will receive an urgent message to go to Gibraltar, the reason being that Napoleon has escaped from Elba.
What is to follow is an amazing and eventful seafaring adventure, in which Aubrey and Maturin will come into their own at sea and on land, and all this is brought to us by the author in his own authentic and wonderful fashion.
Highly recommended, for this is another great addition to this fabulous series, and that's why i like to call this episode: "A Fantastic Yellow Admiral"!
In this novel Aubrey is living ashore and feeling miserable, not only with his wife but also with his neighbour, who has strong Navy connections.
Aubrey has made enemies in Parliament due to his erratic voting as a Member of Parliament, that's the view of those in power of course,.
Eventually he is recalled to sea service in the Navy, and in the stormy waters off Brest he will capture a French privateer laden with much gold and ivory, but at the expense of missing a signal and thus deserting his post.
Not only has he begun this action too soon, but worst of all in the Spring of AD 1814 peace breaks out, but to his rescue comes Maturin, after a secret mission in France, with the news that the Chileans need a Navy after acquiring independence, and the service of English officers.
But before Aubrey and Maturin can sail for Chile, they will receive an urgent message to go to Gibraltar, the reason being that Napoleon has escaped from Elba.
What is to follow is an amazing and eventful seafaring adventure, in which Aubrey and Maturin will come into their own at sea and on land, and all this is brought to us by the author in his own authentic and wonderful fashion.
Highly recommended, for this is another great addition to this fabulous series, and that's why i like to call this episode: "A Fantastic Yellow Admiral"!
December 29, 2014
Early in The Yellow Admiral, Maturin and Sir Joseph have a lengthy conversation about events between the end of the previous book and the start of this one. This is followed soon after by a long, long conversation between Stephen and Jack about inclosing common land throughout England. Ah, I thought. How I have missed extended scenes of domestic life at home in England, after so many long sea voyages. I thought to myself, Some readers probably don't even have the patience for a long conversation on some historical topic. But when the conversation between Jack and Stephen is followed very soon after by yet another very long expositional discussion between Stephen and Bonden about boxing, even I began to lose patience. There are a lot of conversations in this book, many of them little more than O'Brian explaining some detail about early 19th century English life to the reader. That this happens throughout a volume that features a blockade as the only naval action is unfortunate.
In addition to the patience-testing of the conversations, and the absence of especially interesting naval scenes, The Yellow Admiral also pushes the boundaries of how much the reader can invest in yet more ups and downs in the finances and marriages of Aubrey and Maturin. We've been through this before--we've spent multiple books worried about Jack's fortune; and now, after things had seemed very nicely settled in the last book, to have that rug pulled from under us again is wearying. And this time, the suspense does not even carry through the whole book, let alone into the next volume.
After the first third of this book--in which I wondered how Diana could have become so painfully bland a character--I was happy to see that Stephen and Diana's marriage by the end of the book has actually matured into something quite beautiful. They share a farewell that is more poignant than I would have believed possible at most stages of this series:
[T]hey parted reluctantly, like lovers, unwilling, forced and constrained, regretting the fair breeze that carried the boat out, out and away. (194)For that, and for the glimpse of Stephen and Diana's pillow-talk about Jack and Sophie, I can forgive Diana for being so bland earlier, and I can possibly forgive Clarissa for falling from the most interesting character in the series to one of the most useless (I do still hope for more for Clarissa before the end).
My reviews of the Aubrey/Maturin series:
Master and Commander
Post Captain
H.M.S. Surprise
The Mauritius Command
Desolation Island
The Fortune of War
The Surgeon's Mate
The Ionian Mission
Treason's Harbour
The Far Side of the World
The Reverse of the Medal
The Letter of Marque
The Thirteen-Gun Salute
The Nutmeg of Consolation
Clarissa Oakes
The Wine-Dark Sea
The Commodore
The Yellow Admiral
The Hundred Days
Blue at the Mizzen
21
June 4, 2007
As ever, reading O'Brian is like meeting up with an old friend. In this one, the unfolding of the plot is slow and somewhat predictable—it's more like talking with an old friend solely of the past, reliving old memories and not learning anything new about one another. There are none of the fireworks of the earlier books, no huge twists or turns. That's not necessarily a flaw, though; the prose, as ever, soothes and comforts, and the rendering of Jack and Stephen and the numerous supporting cast is as sympathetic yet unflinching as ever. Only two books left in the series, though, which makes me sad—I want to read them, and yet I don't.
March 6, 2015
This was one of the later books, and I breezed through it pretty quickly. Honestly, I have to say that I wasn't as impressed as much with it as I was with other volumes. Why? Maybe because they're jaunting around land so much, doing a bunch of nothing.
But that's just my take on it. I should read it again one of these days.
But that's just my take on it. I should read it again one of these days.
February 11, 2012
I have read the entire Aubrey/Maturn series at least six times, in order, and been captivated by many facets. Of course the sheer adventure is enthralling, but the way in which O'Brian has developed his characters as the books go along is magical. One reviewer called O'Brian " The Jane Austen of the 20th century." Right on! Only in the last two books as O'Brian aged and was no doubt under pressure from publishers, did the standards slip. This is one of the less brilliant ones, but still a good read
November 14, 2021
I am perilously close to the end of the Aubrey and Maturin chronicles and very glad that I still have two left to enjoy. This series is such a consistent delight! There are very few naval adventures in this installment, a lot of which takes place on land. When Jack and Stephen do set sail, orders are to blockade Brest which proves an uncomfortable and largely tedious task. As usual, however, they find dealing with domestic affairs far more trying than the constant perils of sailing the high seas. Once again, both are in financial difficulties. This leads their wives and children to form a single household, which is lovely. The Yellow Admiral includes much about the legal process and inequalities of enclosure, which Jack opposes in his local area to the detriment of his career prospects. This is rather fascinating from a historical perspective. Meanwhile Stephen has some espionage successes that for once do not threaten him with death or serious injury.
I really enjoyed all the sequences in the Aubrey and Maturin household - it was wonderful to see more of Sophie, Diana, and Clarissa. Diana's obsession with driving horses to great speeds is used to excellent effect. Her Arabian horses are the early 19th century equivalent of sports cars. She drives Jack and Stephen around quite a lot and will tolerate no backseat driving from anyone:
As Jack can only steer a ship and frequently injures himself falling off horses, he certainly has no authority to advise Diana on driving. The dynamics of the Aubrey & Maturin family on land are amusing and endearing to observe. After some very rocky times, Stephen and Diana's marriage appears stable and happy. Jack and Sophie have some serious upheavals, precipitated by Sophie's unpleasant mother.
Of course, Jack and Stephen are just as much married to each other as to their wives (if not more so - they certainly spend much more time together than with their wives). Such is Jack's fondness for Stephen that he pines sadly after Stephen left the ship less than a day prior:
Their deep friendship is of course the heart of the series. Near the end of the book, Stephen and Jack have what sounds like a truly delightful holiday in London, during which they spend the days together reading in a library, playing billiards, and window-shopping for music, then the evenings having dinner with old friends. O'Brian is endlessly brilliant at bringing charm, humour, and pathos to mundane social situations. While reading The Yellow Admiral I laughed many times and was now and again quite moved. The exciting twist at the end promises more action in the next book. The lack thereof in this installment really allowed his characterisation and dialogue to shine; these are what I read the series for rather than sea battles, although the battles are thrilling. I cannot think of another writer with so many novels that have brought me such joy.
I really enjoyed all the sequences in the Aubrey and Maturin household - it was wonderful to see more of Sophie, Diana, and Clarissa. Diana's obsession with driving horses to great speeds is used to excellent effect. Her Arabian horses are the early 19th century equivalent of sports cars. She drives Jack and Stephen around quite a lot and will tolerate no backseat driving from anyone:
"I do hope Diana don't savage Heneage on the way back," said Jack. "You might not think it, but he is a very sensitive cove, and he feels harsh words extremely. I remember when his father called him a vile concupiscent waste-thrift whoremonger he brooded over it a whole evening."
"She is not much given to moral judgement," said Stephen. "What she really dislikes is a bore, man or woman; and a want of style."
"No. I mean if he were to criticise her driving, or to suggest - even in a very round-about and subtle diplomatic manner, you know - that he might do better."
"Oh, he is wiser than that, sure. After all he knows she can put a dog-cart through the eye of a needle."
"I hope you are right," said Jack. "But she gave me a cruel bite when I happened, just happened, to throw out a remark about the bridge."
As Jack can only steer a ship and frequently injures himself falling off horses, he certainly has no authority to advise Diana on driving. The dynamics of the Aubrey & Maturin family on land are amusing and endearing to observe. After some very rocky times, Stephen and Diana's marriage appears stable and happy. Jack and Sophie have some serious upheavals, precipitated by Sophie's unpleasant mother.
Of course, Jack and Stephen are just as much married to each other as to their wives (if not more so - they certainly spend much more time together than with their wives). Such is Jack's fondness for Stephen that he pines sadly after Stephen left the ship less than a day prior:
Yet this was a lonely breakfast. Obviously, in the nature of things, a captain of a man-o-war, above all one who could not afford to keep a table (and this was Jack's case at present) must eat many and many a solitary meal; but for a great while Jack Aubrey had sailed with Stephen Maturin, and now he missed his companion quite severely - a wholly human and often contradictory companion, essentially different from the only other guests he could invite, lieutenants, master's mates or midshipmen, who were all debarred by the skipper on any point whatsoever; and who in any case could not speak until spoken to.
Their deep friendship is of course the heart of the series. Near the end of the book, Stephen and Jack have what sounds like a truly delightful holiday in London, during which they spend the days together reading in a library, playing billiards, and window-shopping for music, then the evenings having dinner with old friends. O'Brian is endlessly brilliant at bringing charm, humour, and pathos to mundane social situations. While reading The Yellow Admiral I laughed many times and was now and again quite moved. The exciting twist at the end promises more action in the next book. The lack thereof in this installment really allowed his characterisation and dialogue to shine; these are what I read the series for rather than sea battles, although the battles are thrilling. I cannot think of another writer with so many novels that have brought me such joy.
March 16, 2020
Wandering, as most of the books in the series are at this point, but still utterly beguiling and wonderful.
August 19, 2018
This is now my third time reading through this brilliant series and I am reminded again how beautifully written and how wonderfully, addictively enjoyable they are.
In The Yellow Admiral, there is both trouble and satisfaction for Jack and Steven on land, but a grave worry for Jack as enmities in the Service and in politics threaten to end his career as a shorebound “yellow” admiral or even to be passed over altogether. A period on the blockade of Brest doesn’t help his spirits and he begins to consider options outside the Royal Navy as peace approaches. In spite of the slightly unpromising-sounding subject matter, this is another wholly absorbing and enjoyable instalment in the Aubrey Maturin saga.
Patrick O'Brian is steeped in the period of the early 19th Century and his knowledge of the language, manners, politics, social mores and naval matters of the time is deep and wide. Combined with a magnificent gift for both prose and storytelling, it makes something very special indeed. The books are so perfectly paced, with some calmer, quieter but still engrossing passages and some quite thrilling action sequences. O'Brian's handling of language is masterly, with the dialogue being especially brilliant, but also things like the way his sentences become shorter and more staccato in the action passages, making them heart-poundingly exciting. There are also laugh-out-loud moments and an overall sense of sheer involvement and pleasure in reading.
I cannot recommend these books too highly. They are that rare thing; fine literature which are also books which I can't wait to read more of. Wonderful stuff.
In The Yellow Admiral, there is both trouble and satisfaction for Jack and Steven on land, but a grave worry for Jack as enmities in the Service and in politics threaten to end his career as a shorebound “yellow” admiral or even to be passed over altogether. A period on the blockade of Brest doesn’t help his spirits and he begins to consider options outside the Royal Navy as peace approaches. In spite of the slightly unpromising-sounding subject matter, this is another wholly absorbing and enjoyable instalment in the Aubrey Maturin saga.
Patrick O'Brian is steeped in the period of the early 19th Century and his knowledge of the language, manners, politics, social mores and naval matters of the time is deep and wide. Combined with a magnificent gift for both prose and storytelling, it makes something very special indeed. The books are so perfectly paced, with some calmer, quieter but still engrossing passages and some quite thrilling action sequences. O'Brian's handling of language is masterly, with the dialogue being especially brilliant, but also things like the way his sentences become shorter and more staccato in the action passages, making them heart-poundingly exciting. There are also laugh-out-loud moments and an overall sense of sheer involvement and pleasure in reading.
I cannot recommend these books too highly. They are that rare thing; fine literature which are also books which I can't wait to read more of. Wonderful stuff.
March 23, 2015
What many reviewers didn't like about this story, I really enjoyed. The sea adventures were few and far between as this time Jack and Stephen were landlocked throughout most the book. But, because of this, there were some traits that I got a glimpse of as the situations on land and owning a home are considerably different from those being on a ship at sea. And because of this, their personalities were more rounded and complex.
I really enjoyed the dynamics between both of these guys and their wives. And I have to say that initially I did not like the character of Diane, but now I find myself liking her much more.
Special mention to a part in the story which had me almost welling up was when
Finally, a nice nod to the Hornblower series in that we are told of a brave Captain Edward Pellew and his brave adventure aboard his ship The Indefatigable. That was fun.
I really enjoyed the dynamics between both of these guys and their wives. And I have to say that initially I did not like the character of Diane, but now I find myself liking her much more.
Special mention to a part in the story which had me almost welling up was when
Finally, a nice nod to the Hornblower series in that we are told of a brave Captain Edward Pellew and his brave adventure aboard his ship The Indefatigable. That was fun.
August 4, 2023
It is interesting to see how the issue of inclosure common lands takes Jack towards the disgraceful state of a “yellow admiral”. As usual, Stephen is there to help his friend. Along with this unexpected theme for a naval novel - issues of democracy, politics, integrity, authority, and so on are presented here. A funny theme of this series is that of the doctor that you should nor cross - even if you are an admiral - or else they may prescribe and impose on you some “revenge” medicine or dose.
August 2, 2018
As ever, hugely enjoyable. In all of these books, there is usually an illuminating discourse on a certain subject, in this case, enclosure of land. I am now stimulated to learn more on the subject. Only two more books to go, alas! But there’s always re-reading!
November 16, 2023
Ooh, I am angered. And the punishment to this one is that it does not get a full section-by-section review.
First of all, nothing much happened. Aubrey gets in a turf fight with his neighbor and we are subjected to much rambling discourse about the enclosure of commons (yawn). Then, as petty punishment for winning that fight, the neighbor's uncle (an influential admiral) puts Jack on blockade duty around Brest where they sail up and down, up and down, for months at a time with nothing happening except that they sometimes talk about ship actions they've been in previously (more yawn).
It does look like Aubrey gets his admiral's hat at the end of the book though (huzzah), but I can't let this pass :
First, everything appears to be fine between Jack & Sophie, and she's not actually put out about the silk dress thing at all from the last book (or doesn't seem to be?), so my read on Killick exaggerating looks to have been dead on. But after Jack's mother-in-law comes to visit while he's away, she finds a trove of love-letters written to Jack by Amanda Smith, the disreputable lady from The Surgeon's Mate. I remember that they were mooning over each other like crazy, and I remember that Stephen told Jack to cut it out, but I don't actually remember if he slept with her or not. She did later claim to be pregnant by him, though that was a wacky lie. I remember being very upset with Jack, so I'm going to assume they did sleep together at least the one time. Sophie throws him out, never wants to see him again, which, you know, fine. He shouldn't have done it, furthermore I have no idea why you'd even keep letters from an extramarital lover in your house, especially if you'd later deduced she was kind of unhinged. Jack laments that it was probably a weird sort of ego-trip, and I guess that tracks. Men.
And we're on our way to a perfectly serviceable three-star book, EXCEPT...Diana and Clarissa show up to "talk some sense" into Sophie about how it's because Sophie isn't super keen on sex, both b/c she doesn't understand it's supposed to be fun for women too, and also because all of her births have been rough ones. And so if she's not going to put out, well, she shouldn't blame Aubrey for stepping out, or something? And so she is convinced and writes him a letter asking HIM to forgive HER for being a jerk about HIS AFFAIR, and then they're all happy again?? What in the ever-loving heck? I'm sorry, that's just atrocious. Full star knockoff for that nonsense.
Anyway, malapropism :
18 down, only two to go -- looks like #19 will be dealing with Napoleon's brief last hurrah (I mean, it's called The Hundred Days, so I don't think that's a reach), and then I'm guessing #20 will be this private excursion to Chile that's been set up in this book.
First of all, nothing much happened. Aubrey gets in a turf fight with his neighbor and we are subjected to much rambling discourse about the enclosure of commons (yawn). Then, as petty punishment for winning that fight, the neighbor's uncle (an influential admiral) puts Jack on blockade duty around Brest where they sail up and down, up and down, for months at a time with nothing happening except that they sometimes talk about ship actions they've been in previously (more yawn).
It does look like Aubrey gets his admiral's hat at the end of the book though (huzzah), but I can't let this pass :
First, everything appears to be fine between Jack & Sophie, and she's not actually put out about the silk dress thing at all from the last book (or doesn't seem to be?), so my read on Killick exaggerating looks to have been dead on. But after Jack's mother-in-law comes to visit while he's away, she finds a trove of love-letters written to Jack by Amanda Smith, the disreputable lady from The Surgeon's Mate. I remember that they were mooning over each other like crazy, and I remember that Stephen told Jack to cut it out, but I don't actually remember if he slept with her or not. She did later claim to be pregnant by him, though that was a wacky lie. I remember being very upset with Jack, so I'm going to assume they did sleep together at least the one time. Sophie throws him out, never wants to see him again, which, you know, fine. He shouldn't have done it, furthermore I have no idea why you'd even keep letters from an extramarital lover in your house, especially if you'd later deduced she was kind of unhinged. Jack laments that it was probably a weird sort of ego-trip, and I guess that tracks. Men.
And we're on our way to a perfectly serviceable three-star book, EXCEPT...Diana and Clarissa show up to "talk some sense" into Sophie about how it's because Sophie isn't super keen on sex, both b/c she doesn't understand it's supposed to be fun for women too, and also because all of her births have been rough ones. And so if she's not going to put out, well, she shouldn't blame Aubrey for stepping out, or something? And so she is convinced and writes him a letter asking HIM to forgive HER for being a jerk about HIS AFFAIR, and then they're all happy again?? What in the ever-loving heck? I'm sorry, that's just atrocious. Full star knockoff for that nonsense.
Anyway, malapropism :
"I have kept perfectly calm. Yet I don't know how it is..." He paused for quite a while and then in the tone of one quoting an aphorism he went on, "The heart has its reasons that the ... that the ..."
"Kidneys?" suggested Stephen.
"That the kidneys know not." Jack frowned. "No. Hell and death, that's not it. But anyhow the heart has its reasons, you understand."
"It is a singularly complex organ, I am told."
18 down, only two to go -- looks like #19 will be dealing with Napoleon's brief last hurrah (I mean, it's called The Hundred Days, so I don't think that's a reach), and then I'm guessing #20 will be this private excursion to Chile that's been set up in this book.
March 3, 2019
‘…It was Burton, I think,’ he said some minutes later, ‘who observed that there were men who sucked nothing but poison from books. And who has not met youths and even maidens with ludicrous ideas of what is the thing for persons of spirit, and with permanently distorted notions of conduct that is acceptable and conduct that is not? Yet may not authors be even more poisonous?’
Some three years after I started, I am finally reaching the end of Patrick O'Brian’s best-known series of historical novels. Even now, far from the beginning, I feel confident in claiming that The Yellow Admiral is the weakest in the series so far. I had mixed feelings about Clarissa Oakes for related reasons — principally the lack of direction — but it gives me no joy to say that this book is where the series really starts to show its age. With the best of his work there’s a sense of settling into a sort of comfortable groove, like listening to a favourite piece of music performed well, or sinking into an old armchair on a rainy evening. But nothing here sits easily.
The story is sketchy to the point of being barely extant. The war against Napoleon seems to be coming to an end, and for much of the book Jack Aubrey is plagued by a couple of great anxieties. He’s afraid he will be made bankrupt, due to unexpected penalties associated with illegally capturing slave ships in the previous book. He is also worried that for political reasons at the end of his career he will be made a ‘yellow’ admiral, which is a covert form of disgrace – a promotion to a leadership role ‘without distinction of squadron’. There’s a lot of other stuff going on — most notably, the promise of another privateer mission to South America — but for the most part this is a strange sort of in-betweener novel.
Some of it is very out of character. A great many words in the first half are expended on enclosure (or 'inclosure’, as O'Brian insists on spelling it). The widespread adoption of enclosure was perhaps the most significant change ever made to the landscape of Britain. It refers to the process of fencing off areas of common land, and turning it into strips of smallholdings assigned to individuals. The old commons were open to all and could be used for grazing, hunting and gathering; a tenant forced to trade access to commons in exchange for a few small pieces of private land might see an increase in the assets on his theoretical balance sheet, but they might also see a great nearing of the horizon of the opportunities afforded to them.
The economics and history of enclosure are complex, and my understanding is limited to what I remember from school. But the author’s dedication to pursuing it so doggedly here seems out of character, especially considering that for the most part these books have given a great deal of leeway to the political issues of the day. Politics is only usually brought up as a matter for idle philosophical speculation — usually by Stephen, in the comfortable confines of the cabin or the gun-room.
Enclosure has serious, active consequences for Jack and his tenants, but for me the question still remains: why are we only picking up on this now? Were a reader to encounter it for the first time in this book they might think it an invention of the nineteenth century. In fact, enclosure had been going on in fits and starts for hundreds of years in England; it’s scarcely conceivable that Stephen Maturin would need to have it explained to him, as he does here. It seems a strange topic to choose as representative of the age.
As it stands, enclosure becomes a useful hobby-horse in this book. It’s hard to feel that O’Brian actually cares very much for the consequences to the individual smallholder here. Rather, the question of whether Aubrey’s local common should be enclosed makes for a diverting exercise in the novel’s own libertarian philosophies. There is something unashamedly pastoral in this vision of a free and open corner of England, largely unaffected by government interference. At first it seems ironic that the only way this can be defended is by Aubrey effectively invoking his rights as Lord of the Manor; but I would suggest this is an indication that the novel’s sympathies lie with a much older model of government. It is feudal, or as good as. Perhaps this oughtn’t to be surprising – by this time we should know well that democracy doesn’t come out of these novels looking well:
‘Everyone knows that on a large scale democracy is pernicious nonsense – a country or even a county cannot be run by a self-seeking parcel of tub-thumping politicians working on popular emotion, rousing the mob. Even at Brooks’s, which is a hotbed of democracy, the place is in fact run by the managers and those that don’t like it may either do the other thing or join Boodle’s; while as for a man-of-war, it is either an autocracy or it is nothing, nothing at all – mere nonsense.’
For all that it has very little to do with the rest of the series, the stuff about enclosure here at least has the benefit of being memorable. Much of the rest of the book is sadly ridiculous. The absurdity peaks early on with a scene in which Bonden must win a bare-knuckle boxing match, which ends up being so violent I thought he might not survive. We like Bonden – of course we like Bonden! – but it is one authorial self-indulgence too far to turn his character into a nineteenth century brawler. It feels like fanfiction.
The remaining passages on land in this book are long and dry and largely without character. The one thing to be said for them is that we do at least get some scenes with Diana, but otherwise it feels as though O'Brian had no clue of how to continue the series from here. There is the period of Napoleon’s escape from Elba to be covered, but we can’t get to that just yet, so our heroes must be dispatched to the most boring region of the war which has formed the butt of many a joke throughout the series so far – the blockade of the port of Brest. It is largely uneventful. There isn’t even a decent battle at sea to liven things up.
I think O'Brian would have been about 81 when this was published. Interestingly, it’s at this point in his career that I think he was beginning to get some very serious literary recognition. He was being invited on speaking tours and having his work championed by a weird mix of writers and politicians from across the political spectrum — everyone from Charlton Heston to Christopher Hitchens proclaimed themselves fans. If I was inclined to be cynical I might argue that this book is mostly O’Brian playing to the gallery, without any clear sense of how these novels ought to be concluded.
The parts where the author seems to be having the most fun are the novel’s idle moments; I don’t believe these books have ever seen so many comfortable dinners with shipmates or cushy evenings at Blacks club as there are described here. And how interesting that these are not comfortable dinners spent at home with family, but semi-formal occasions with colleagues. This, perhaps, is where the author really feels at ease. Even though we spend many pages in England in this book, there’s a haunting sense throughout of being perpetually at a slight discomfort at home. To some extent that was always the case — O’Brian always did stress the escapist quality of the naval career as paramount to the happiness of his heroes — but now this is tinged with a strange melancholy as it becomes clear that we can never spend a lifetime fleeing from life as part of a family.
Some three years after I started, I am finally reaching the end of Patrick O'Brian’s best-known series of historical novels. Even now, far from the beginning, I feel confident in claiming that The Yellow Admiral is the weakest in the series so far. I had mixed feelings about Clarissa Oakes for related reasons — principally the lack of direction — but it gives me no joy to say that this book is where the series really starts to show its age. With the best of his work there’s a sense of settling into a sort of comfortable groove, like listening to a favourite piece of music performed well, or sinking into an old armchair on a rainy evening. But nothing here sits easily.
The story is sketchy to the point of being barely extant. The war against Napoleon seems to be coming to an end, and for much of the book Jack Aubrey is plagued by a couple of great anxieties. He’s afraid he will be made bankrupt, due to unexpected penalties associated with illegally capturing slave ships in the previous book. He is also worried that for political reasons at the end of his career he will be made a ‘yellow’ admiral, which is a covert form of disgrace – a promotion to a leadership role ‘without distinction of squadron’. There’s a lot of other stuff going on — most notably, the promise of another privateer mission to South America — but for the most part this is a strange sort of in-betweener novel.
Some of it is very out of character. A great many words in the first half are expended on enclosure (or 'inclosure’, as O'Brian insists on spelling it). The widespread adoption of enclosure was perhaps the most significant change ever made to the landscape of Britain. It refers to the process of fencing off areas of common land, and turning it into strips of smallholdings assigned to individuals. The old commons were open to all and could be used for grazing, hunting and gathering; a tenant forced to trade access to commons in exchange for a few small pieces of private land might see an increase in the assets on his theoretical balance sheet, but they might also see a great nearing of the horizon of the opportunities afforded to them.
The economics and history of enclosure are complex, and my understanding is limited to what I remember from school. But the author’s dedication to pursuing it so doggedly here seems out of character, especially considering that for the most part these books have given a great deal of leeway to the political issues of the day. Politics is only usually brought up as a matter for idle philosophical speculation — usually by Stephen, in the comfortable confines of the cabin or the gun-room.
Enclosure has serious, active consequences for Jack and his tenants, but for me the question still remains: why are we only picking up on this now? Were a reader to encounter it for the first time in this book they might think it an invention of the nineteenth century. In fact, enclosure had been going on in fits and starts for hundreds of years in England; it’s scarcely conceivable that Stephen Maturin would need to have it explained to him, as he does here. It seems a strange topic to choose as representative of the age.
As it stands, enclosure becomes a useful hobby-horse in this book. It’s hard to feel that O’Brian actually cares very much for the consequences to the individual smallholder here. Rather, the question of whether Aubrey’s local common should be enclosed makes for a diverting exercise in the novel’s own libertarian philosophies. There is something unashamedly pastoral in this vision of a free and open corner of England, largely unaffected by government interference. At first it seems ironic that the only way this can be defended is by Aubrey effectively invoking his rights as Lord of the Manor; but I would suggest this is an indication that the novel’s sympathies lie with a much older model of government. It is feudal, or as good as. Perhaps this oughtn’t to be surprising – by this time we should know well that democracy doesn’t come out of these novels looking well:
‘Everyone knows that on a large scale democracy is pernicious nonsense – a country or even a county cannot be run by a self-seeking parcel of tub-thumping politicians working on popular emotion, rousing the mob. Even at Brooks’s, which is a hotbed of democracy, the place is in fact run by the managers and those that don’t like it may either do the other thing or join Boodle’s; while as for a man-of-war, it is either an autocracy or it is nothing, nothing at all – mere nonsense.’
For all that it has very little to do with the rest of the series, the stuff about enclosure here at least has the benefit of being memorable. Much of the rest of the book is sadly ridiculous. The absurdity peaks early on with a scene in which Bonden must win a bare-knuckle boxing match, which ends up being so violent I thought he might not survive. We like Bonden – of course we like Bonden! – but it is one authorial self-indulgence too far to turn his character into a nineteenth century brawler. It feels like fanfiction.
The remaining passages on land in this book are long and dry and largely without character. The one thing to be said for them is that we do at least get some scenes with Diana, but otherwise it feels as though O'Brian had no clue of how to continue the series from here. There is the period of Napoleon’s escape from Elba to be covered, but we can’t get to that just yet, so our heroes must be dispatched to the most boring region of the war which has formed the butt of many a joke throughout the series so far – the blockade of the port of Brest. It is largely uneventful. There isn’t even a decent battle at sea to liven things up.
I think O'Brian would have been about 81 when this was published. Interestingly, it’s at this point in his career that I think he was beginning to get some very serious literary recognition. He was being invited on speaking tours and having his work championed by a weird mix of writers and politicians from across the political spectrum — everyone from Charlton Heston to Christopher Hitchens proclaimed themselves fans. If I was inclined to be cynical I might argue that this book is mostly O’Brian playing to the gallery, without any clear sense of how these novels ought to be concluded.
The parts where the author seems to be having the most fun are the novel’s idle moments; I don’t believe these books have ever seen so many comfortable dinners with shipmates or cushy evenings at Blacks club as there are described here. And how interesting that these are not comfortable dinners spent at home with family, but semi-formal occasions with colleagues. This, perhaps, is where the author really feels at ease. Even though we spend many pages in England in this book, there’s a haunting sense throughout of being perpetually at a slight discomfort at home. To some extent that was always the case — O’Brian always did stress the escapist quality of the naval career as paramount to the happiness of his heroes — but now this is tinged with a strange melancholy as it becomes clear that we can never spend a lifetime fleeing from life as part of a family.
February 2, 2011
Not one of the top-tier books in this series. Lots of the action was on land and much of the book consisted of Jack explaining various things to Stephen like the process of enclosing common areas for farming which was not exactly scintillating. While the narration by Simon Vance was OK I really missed Patrick Tull's way with the characters. The ending though made me think that the next book in the series will get back on track.
March 30, 2017
So everyone really enjoys the characters in the series at this point and it is generally entertaining to read about them doing anything. However, it felt like this book was just a set-up for the events of the next book as not much of anything happened of any lasting consequence. A few things got tidied up and a new adventure awaits. I feel like all of this book could have been condensed into the introductory chapter to the next book.
October 21, 2020
They are all delightful. This one had the normal great characterisation and sailing scenes, but also included a fascinating account of a country prize-fight and a fight over an enclosure.
Read
July 7, 2023“Oh sir, I shall be a sailor too. There is no better life.”
May 20, 2021
'...Captain Aubrey, whose name is no doubt familiar.'
'Oh, certainly,' said Needham, who wished to make a good impression on this formidable figure, but whose talents did not really lie in that direction.
—
Vast space given over to Discourse on land enclosure (mostly to set up yet another gaffe and set of political enemies for Jack). It’s probably pretty hard for people outside the UK to understand Jack’s sentimental uneconomical Conservatism - or, since the One Nation Tories are dead and buried, even if you’re in the UK.
'Jack,' said Stephen, 'I have been contemplating on your words about the nature of the majority, your strangely violent, radical, and even - forgive me - democratic words, which, with their treasonable implication of "one man, one vote", might be interpreted as an attack on the sacred rights of property; and I should like to know how you reconcile them with your support of a Tory ministry in the House.'
'Oh, as for that,' said Jack, 'I have no difficulty at all. It is entirely a matter of scale and circumstance. Everyone knows that on a large scale democracy is pernicious nonsense - a country or even a county cannot be run by a self-seeking parcel of tub-thumping politicians working on popular emotion, rousing the mob. Even at Brooks's, which is a hotbed of democracy, the place is in fact run by the managers and those that don't like it may either do the other thing or join Boodle's; while as for a man-of-war, it is either an autocracy or it is nothing, nothing at all - mere nonsense. You saw what happened to the poor French navy at the beginning of the Revolutionary War...'
'...while at the other end of the scale, although "one man, one vote" certainly smells of brimstone and the gallows, everyone has always accepted it in a jury trying a man for his life. An inclosure belongs to this scale: it too decides men's lives. I had not realized how thoroughly it does so until I came back from sea and found that Griffiths and some of his friends had persuaded my father to join with them in inclosing Woolcombe Common: he was desperate for money at the time. Woolcombe was never so glorious a place as Simmon's Lea, but I like it very well - surprising numbers of partridge and woodcock in the season - and when I saw it all cleared, flattened, drained, fenced and exploited to the last half-bushel of wheat, with many of the small encroachments ploughed up and the cottages destroyed, and the remaining commoners, with half of their living and all their joy quite gone, reduced to anxious cap-inhand casual labourers, it hurt my heart...’
‘...what they and the bigger farmers hate is the possibility of the labourers growing saucy, as they call it, asking for higher wages - for a wage that keeps up with the price of corn - refusing to work if they do not get it, and falling back on what they can wring from the common. No common, no sauciness'
i.e. Class war, but with peasants and aristos against the bourgeoisie. (Still the most popular class war? - witness the depiction of the middle class in ~any work of art of the last 60 years, where I take the new professional elite, including novelists and painters, to have replaced aristos.)
Neither Harding nor Stephen had sentimental, misty views of rural poverty: they both knew too much about the squalor, dirt, idleness, petty thieving, cruelty, frequent drunkenness and not uncommon incest that could occur to have any idyllic notion of a poor person's life in the country. 'But,' said Harding, 'it is what we are used to; and with all its plagues it is better than being on the parish or having to go round to the farmer's back door begging for a day's work and being turned away. No, it ain't all beer and skittles but with the common a man is at least half his own man. And without the common he's the farmer's dog. That's why we are so main fond of Captain Jack.'
—
Stephen took his disappointment philosophically. After all, he had himself reached nearly seven years of age before he paid really serious attention to voles.
—
He felt no particular guilt [for cheating on his wife] except for this foolishness [in leaving evidence]: by his code a man who was directly challenged [seduced] must in honesty engage -anything else would be intolerably insulting. Yet had he known of this miserable old woman's prying and her malice he would certainly have played the scrub in Canada.
—
He revered the sound if not the full implication of the Book of Common Prayer, the Lessons and the usual psalms and readings: the other rituals such as the inspection of the entire ship and every soul aboard her, clean, shaved, sober and toeing a given line or rather seam, soothed his mind; and although today he did not feel up to reading a sermon he and all his people were pei~ectly satisfied with the even more usual Articles of War, which, through immemorial use, had acquired ecclesiastical qualities of their own.
—
Diana:
‘I have it on the best authority [her own] that Jack is no artist in these matters [sex]. He can board and carry an enemy frigate with guns roaring and drums beating in a couple of minutes; but that is no way to give a girl much pleasure. In better hands she would, I am sure, have been a very likely young woman; and oh so much happier.'
'Clearly, you know more about these things than I.’
—
The military-military complex:
'War of course is a bad thing,' he went on. 'But it is our way of life - has been these twenty years and more - and for most of us it is our only hope of a ship, let alone of promotion: and I well remember how my heart sank in the year two, the year of the peace of Amiens. But let me offer this reflection by way of comfort: in the year two my spirits were so low that if I could have afforded a piece of rope I should have hanged myself. Well, as everyone knows that peace did not last, and in the year four I was made post, jobbing captain of Lively, and a lively time we had of it too. I throw this out, because if one peace with an untrustworthy enemy can be broke, another peace with the same fellow can be broke too; and our country will certainly need defending, above all by sea. So' - filling his glass again - 'let us drink to the paying-off, and may it be a peaceful, orderly and cheerful occasion, followed by a short, I repeat very short run ashore.'
—
The Philosophers were not a particularly ascetic body of men: few of them had ever allowed philosophy to spoil their appetites - their president weighed over fifteen stone - and they now set about their dinner with the earnestness it deserved.
June 1, 2020
Not the most exciting of the series, but again the ending was well worth it.
It gives a nice insight into the private lives of the characters (in some cases even too private) though I enjoyed the reversal of the situation with Stephen and Diana being almost lovey-dovey and Jack and Sophie's marriage on the rocks; and a much deeper insight into some aspects of the country life of the period with adundant information about enclosures and boxing rules.
It gives a nice insight into the private lives of the characters (in some cases even too private) though I enjoyed the reversal of the situation with Stephen and Diana being almost lovey-dovey and Jack and Sophie's marriage on the rocks; and a much deeper insight into some aspects of the country life of the period with adundant information about enclosures and boxing rules.
March 20, 2018
The 18th in the series, and a lesson to us all that when writing a series, sometimes you just need to get from the previous book's end to the set up for the next. It's enjoyable for aficionados, but you wouldn't want to start with this one!
August 30, 2020
Blockade duty with ever-dwindling rations doesn't exactly reach the heights of some of the other books, even when the rancor and misery is exacerbated by a dispute over fencing in land, but I did like that Jack and Stephen's families got to take a little sea excursion at the end.
October 5, 2023
Marvellous, pure O'Brianesque perfection.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 308 reviews