Review: The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope

Full title: The Prisoner of Zenda (novel) 
Writer: Anthony Hope
First published: 1894
Available: digitally on Project Gutenberg; in print on Amazon 

Quote: "For my part, if a man needs be a knave, I would have him a debonair knave." 

The Prisoner of Zenda is a classic story taking place in the fictional German state "Ruritania"–a word which has come to be a generic term for "small fictional country in Europe which saved the writer the trouble of too much research", so well-known was Anthony Hope's story once. I should probably state up front that I love fictional places; countries, cities, stately homes, the occasional uninhabited island... You name it. That I would sooner or later have to visit Ruritania was obviously inevitable.

The basic story is what I like to call the "Two Peas In A Pod"-plot. You've encountered it before–in Mark Twain's The Prince and The Pauper, Dumas' The Man in the Iron Mask, the film Dave... You've surely encountered it in some form before. The idea is that you have two people so incredibly alike that they can switch places and none will be the wiser. In this case, the reason is a common ancestor and obviously very dominant genes, and the result is that Rudolf Rassendyll and King Rudolf of Ruritania look exactly the same. Due to sinister plots and intrigues, Rassendyll is forced to take the king's place while he is imprisoned in the castle of Zenda. This leads to romantic entanglements when the king's future wife and cosuin Flavia suddenly finds herself liking Rudolf a lot more than she ever did before, and swashbuckling adventure as the king must be saved and put safely back on the throne.

Rassendyll isn't a bad sort of character – he's reasonably likeable and not insufferably goody-two-shoes. He's not splendidly charismatic either – the major star of the book is without a doubt the utterly despicable and dashingly handsome villain Rupert of Henzau who kills and kisses with the same flair and splendid lack of remorse. Flavia is nice and not a nitwit at all; she doesn't actually require saving even once, mostly because she behaves perfectly reasonably (take note, modern writers!). There are sword-fights and moat-swimming and the occasional witty verbal exchange so I can't complain. I also find the description of Rudolf's life as a royal fairly realistic in the peculiar mix of power and circumscription.

The plot is obviously over the top ridiculous and the book is clearly not written yesterday, but it mostly shows in a rather charming way. Vintage, rather than mouldy. I especially love the very period realistic touches, such as when Rudolf goes on a  swimming mission at night and describes his dress as: "I was covered with a large cloak, and under this I wore a warm, tight-fitting woollen jersey, a pair of knickerbockers, thick stockings, and light canvas shoes. I had rubbed myself with oil, and I carried a large flask of whisky." Take that, Jason Bourne!

To sum up; a classic swashbuckling adventure that still entertains after all these years and is a must for lovers of the genre.

I gave it 4/5 on Goodreads.

Review: Greenmantle by John Buchan

Full title: Greenmantle (novel) 
Writer: John Buchan 
First published: 1916 
Available: digitally on Project Gutenberg; in print on Amazon 

Quote: "There could never be a Superman. But there might be a Superwoman..."

I have never read The Thirty-Nine Steps, I'm ashamed to say, so Greenmantle was my first acquaintance with Buchan's hero Richard Hannay. I called him a prat on Twitter after about 1/4 of the book and he is, sometimes. First of all, you do sometimes want to kick him in his seating area for being a South African of his time (I'm sure you get what that means without me spelling it out). Second, he's obviously intended to be a forthright, brave and sympathetic chap and like all such heroes, he suffers a bit from what I like to call the "Harry Potter Syndrome", meaning that you have a main character who, while clearly beloved by the author, is irrefutably the most boring character in the book.

What more is, he tends to describe everything in detail. "Tell don't show", seems to be Mr Buchan's motto. In fact, it's a little like an old-fashioned school paper at times. Like an "What I Did For My Holiday: Went to Erzerum"-essay by Richard Hannay, age 12. "First we went to Lisbon and the weather was narsty. I had clams for dinner. They were good."

You get the picture, right?

That aside, it's still a page turner. I admit Mr Buchan makes a little too much use of coincidence – whenever someone walks out onto the street or crawl down a hole, they meet someone they know, be it London, Lisbon or Constantinople. Still, I'm willing to overlook that as he also does a good job of entertaining you (if you only learn to skim Hannay's step-by-step account of everything but his toilet visits).

The story is written right after the events described – the main historical event in it is the siege and capture of Erzerum and since it was published already in 1916, Buchan must have written it right after it happened. The main plot is based on Germany's attempt to start a jihad in the Middle East and Central Asia, and isn't all that far-fetched, if you're familiar with the factual background. In fact, Buchan is remarkably well-informed (but then he was very well-connected).

The villain is a villainess in the fine old tradition of megalomaniac bad guys and gals. The sad truth is that she comes across as much less of a female stereotype than most modern female villains, most likely due to the sex-lessness of the Good Old Boys-style of writing (the characters probably exist between the waist and their knees, but I think they're smooth and plastic, kinda like Barbie and Ken).

Hannay is the main character, but I would argue that the hero is Sandy Arbuthnot, who knows everyone in every bar from here to Kabul and goes undercover in a skin cap and stained eyebrows, and commands a whole band of awesome dancing Turkish gypsies (yes, I know. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't have to; it's a swashbuckling adventure!). However, maybe I'm paranoid, but I was so strongly reminded of Francis Crawford (Lymond of Dorothy Dunnett's books) by sensitive, genius, polyglot, madcap, ballad-quoting and most assuredly Scottish Sandy that I think it simply cannot be a coincidence. DD, I'm onto you!

Right, to sum up this rambling attempt at a review: fun, swashbuckling adventure with extraordinary period flavour that should be avoided if you can't overlook period-typical imperialistic-swine attitudes.

I gave it 4/5 on Goodreads.

Review: The Lost Ambassador

Full title: The Lost Ambassador (also known as The Search For The Missing Delora) (novel) 
Writer: E Phillips Oppenheim
First published: 1910
Available: At Project Gutenberg


Quote: I saw the usual throng come strolling in – I myself had often been one of them – actresses who had not had time to make toilette for the restaurant proper, actors, managers, performers from all the hundreds of pleasure houses which London boasts, Americans who had not troubled to dress, Frenchwomen who objected to the order prohibiting in hats elsewhere, – a heterogenous crowd, not afraid to laugh, to make jokes, certain to outstay their time, supping frugally or au prince, according to the caprice of the moment.



E. Phillips Oppenheim was a prolific writer around the turn of the last century who wrote adventure and spy tales. The Lost Ambassador is one of his more well-known works and the first of his that I read.

Captain Rotheby arrives in Paris on a mysterious mission of vengeance and chances upon Louis, the head waiter of his favourite restaurant. Bored, he follows Louis to a shade café where he spots a pair he's long been intrigued by - a South American gentleman and a young girl. Because of certain complications, Captain Rotheby finds himself forced to leave Paris, only to find himself travelling with the aforementioned gentleman, Mr Delora, and his niece, Felicia.  Arriving in London, Mr Delora seemingly falls ill and excuses himself, leaving Captain Rotheby to take care of Felicia. They install themselves at the Milan Hotel, where Louis works, and waits for Mr Delora, who seems to have vanished into thin air...

This is a classic British tale, where Frenchmen are unreliable, women either innocent damsels in distress or wicked temptresses, and English captains are  perfect gentlemen at all times. Do not expect realism in the sense of "oh, it might have happened" but expect extreme realism in setting - this book is a treasure trove of information on the era it takes place in, from what sort of hat a Frenchwoman might wear to dinner to the arrangement of a country shooting party. It's a rather well-spun tale - I admit I had it figured out - mostly - but there are lots of unexpected turns and twists to the adventure of poor Captain Rotherby, and, like I said, the local colour of the setting is extremely charming.

Definitely recommended as a light-weight holiday read!

I gave it 3/5 on Goodreads.

Review: The Last Mughal

Full title: The Last Mughal: Eclipse of a Dynasty, Delhi 1857 (non-fiction) 
Writer: William Dalrymple
First published: 2006
Available: From a well stocked bookstore, or in paperback from Amazon

Quote: "As the sun set, the churches, mosques and temples filled again: the ringing of the bells of the evening arti, the final call to prayer from the minarets, and the basso profundo of the organ chords concluding Padre Jennings' evensong in St James's, all fusing together with the rumble of British carriages heading out towards the Civil Lines through the bottleck of the Kashmiri Gate –where the bricking up of the second of the two arches was a cause of frequent complaints in the Delhi Gazette."

The Last Mughal is a very ambitious book. It seemingly has a rather narrow focus – Delhi during the Mutiny of 1857 – but the scope is still immense. William Dalrymple went where few had gone before him in taking on not only the sources from one side of the conflict, but both, and in doing so, he utilized  Indian archival material in Urdu that has not been available to Western readers until this book was published.

With a florid and evocative prose, Dalrymple starts out by painting a picture of Delhi in the 1850s - the poets and artists; the princes and the colonial bureaucrats. The major events leading up to the fateful day of 11 May, 1857, are all described, as are the major players - Theo Metcalfe, Queen Zinat Mahal, the zealous Reverend Jennings and, of course, Bahadur Shah Zafar II, the last Mughal Emperor himself.

The chain of events that lead to the massacre of Englishmen and the subsequent British attempt at extermination of Delhi, is described as complicated and going far back, being built into the very structures of the British presence in India. In one sense, the events seem perfectly unnecessary - surely, they could have been avoided with a little more tact and less polarisation - and at the same time, they seem as unavoidable as the impact of a running steam train.

Dalrymple doesn't spare the reader, neither in depicting the atrocities committed by both sides, nor by handing out simple answers, such as who was right or how this might easily have been avoided. It is remarkable to be able depict the wholesale slaughter of hundreds of humans in cold blood without dehumanising the perpetrators; something that might make the events easier to understand but would also serve to detach the readers. These horrors are committed by people, not monsters, and as such it is a chilling read, indeed.

One is struck – or at least I am – by how unfamiliar with the Hindu-Muslim culture of the Mughals most of us are, and how much Islam has been invariably linked with intolerance in Western propaganda, as if fanaticism is equal with true Islam, rather than an interpretation made by certain individuals. In that sense this book is invaluable in understanding the radicalisation of Islam and the part the Western world has played in it. In fact, anyone seeking to understand the roots of fundamentalist sects in Pakistan and Afghanistan today is well-served by reading this book, as is anyone with an interest in Indian history.

Highly recommended.

I gave it 5/5 of Goodreads.