1 comments about The Busiest Man in England: A Life of Joseph Paxton, Gardener, Architect & Victorian Visionary.

1. THE BUSIEST MAN IN ENGLAND: A LIFE OF JOSEPH PAXTON, GARDENER, ARCHITECT & VICTORIAN VISIONARY tells of an 1800s Victorian pragmatist who worked in horticulture, urban planning and architecture and solved everything from big problems to small design issues. At only 23 years he became heard gardener and architect at the Derbyshire estate of the sixth duke of Devonshire, changing it to one of the most extraordinary garden concepts in the country. Given his vast influence and local fame, it's surprising no detailed biographical sketch has been produced before THE BUSIEST MAN IN ENGLAND. Kate Colquhoun uses personal papers and extensive research to provide a well-rounded biography of the man's personal and public life alike - and amazingly, it's her first book. An outstanding, detailed production displays the prowess of a fine writer.
   
   Diane C. Donovan
   California Bookwatch

5 comments about Anthony Blunt: His Lives.

1. Miranda Carter has written a splendid book about Anthony Blunt, appropriately subtitled, "his lives." Reading about the Cambridge Fellow, Soldier, Double Agent, Art-Historian, Director of the Cortauld Institute, Surveyor of the King's/Queens Pictures, etc., etc., is like peeling an onion, or perhaps--more appropriately--opening a Russian Matrioshka doll. As one probes into a deeper layer one discovers yet another persona, and although one might begin to understand Blunt's motives, one never really gets to know who he really was, thanks to his ability to compartmentalize his multifarious activities and interests.
   
   Although I began the book with considerable prejudice, since Anthony Blunt seems to have prospered while his fellow Cambridge spies were living comparatively miserable lives in Moscow, Ms. Carter's sensitive portrayal of this man, whose aloofness stemmed from a fundamental insecurity, changed my mind. She shows us a man who was unwavering in his ideals and loyal to his friends (He waited until 1964--after Guy Burgess had died and Philby and Maclean were 'safe' in Moscow-- to admit his complicity.). She also portrays a tormented man, whose ability to lose himself in his art-history scholarship preserved his sanity and probably saved his life. Publicly disgraced in 1979, stripped of his knighthood and other honors (after a promise of immunity), deserted by all except a few loyal friends, he died soon after. Miranda Carter depicts him as a man who was courageous but tragically flawed.
   
   This book is meticulously researched, so much so that an average enthusiast of espionage literature may find himself adrift among the dozens of friends, acquaintances and enemies whom Anthony Blunt knew, not only Guy Burgess, Kim Philby and the other Cambridge spy protagonists, but also literary figures, including Julian Bell, Louis MacNeice, W.H. Auden; and other characters--who have come in for their own share of speculation--Victor Rothschild, Michael Straight and Goronwy Rees. Precisely because of the plethora of names, the book presents a fascinating glimpse into a fifty-year history of Great Britain from the 1920's onward. And while probably only the most passionate art historians will read every word about Nicholas Poussin and Baroque Rome, the persistent reader will be rewarded by a colorful and witty glimpse into the outrageous life and times of Guy Burgess (Inexplicably no one has written a biography of the wayward spy, but if they do, it should probably be called "My Noisy War"!).
   
   For those afficionados who cannot get enough of the Cambridge Spies (Judging from the numbers of books still being published about them, half a century later, such readers are numerous.), this book is highly recommended!



2. Anthony Blunt was a child of the British Establishment, born to a middle class family with Church of England and royal connections. He received a fine education at Marlborough and Cambridge and became one of the most acclaimed art historians and teachers in Britain in the twentieth century. At the same time, he was a spy for the Soviets. The story of how Blunt became a communist, worked against his country while supposedly serving it in MI5 during World War II, then became a courtier for two monarchs and the highly regarded head of the Courtald Institute, which he made into one of the finest art schools in the country, is fascinating.

   Blunt was a man of many contradictions. At the same time he stood at the side of the Royal Family as the Surveyor of their art collection he was leading a secret gay life notorious for its seaminess. While he appeared to be a pillar of the Establishment he gave secret information to the Soviets and became the long sought after Fourth Man who was in league with Burgess, Maclean, and Philby before they defected to Russia. When he was unmasked in the 1960s the British government did its own contradictory little dance around him, granting him immunity while pumping him for information.

   Miranda Carter is sympathetic to Blunt and emphasizes his positives, like his fine teaching abilities and helpfulness to many of his students, but without whitewashing his treasonous activities. She helps us understand the pressure Blunt was under for many years and the fear of being unmasked that dominated him until he was finally publically denounced in 1979. Above all, she does a fine job of depicting the man's numerous contradictions. Highly recommended.




3. Carter wins on giving us numerous minutia about Blount's life and his odd selection of friends. But her book was not of great interest to a reader who was aware of Blount's peculiar nature and interest in art. It is difficult to understand how Blount or his friends, seemed completly oblivious of politics as Carter has laid out. Unless she is making the case that Blount was the perfect mole - at all times on guard against exposure. But I don't think she is trying to make that case.Carter gives us a blur of names, quotes, and a failure to find mention of expected comments in corresspondence such as the passing of Blount's father. It may be Carter's intention to show Blount's world as an extremely focused life which was hardly influenced by outside events; such as the end of World War One and the rise of Communism. I suspect Carter is trying to explain Blount as a Good Boy Who Does Bad Things.



4. What is the purpose of this account of the life of Anthony Blunt, the great traitor?
   
   This biography is a long emollient salve applied to Blunt's traitorous and murderous life. Its strengths are all associated with its depiction of the milieu in which he moved so effortlessly, the upper class institutions of England which he betrayed.
   
   The author, a product of St. Paul and Oxford, is an excellent writer and an indefatigable researcher. Her style is mellow and balanced--her analysis subtlely and consistently biased in favour of Mr. Blunt. The only time her mellifluous prose veers into ascerbity is when referring to Mr. Blunt's detractors, including Brown, Deacon, and the various former KGB operatives who have written memoirs. Their opinions, Ms. Carter assures us, are unreliable, badly researched, poorly judged, and so on.
   
   But not to worry--Ms. Carter does have the facts, and, she assures us, the proper perspective on Blunt's actions. Despite her many portentuous references to KGB archives, most of her research is based upon secondary sources, a great deal of which is journalism, and on interviews with people to whom she gained access no doubt because of her social background and elite education.
   
   And these sections of the book are indeed fascinating: Ms. Carter refers authoritatively to climates of opinion in the English upper classes that allegedly prevailed during periods before she was born. Her account sometimes reads like it was written by a contemporary of Anthony Blunt's, one with a remarkably benevolent attitude towards the traitor. This authenticity of tone is a testament to Ms. Carter's long years of research and her supple and even-tempered prose. It is also a testament, however inadvertant, to the tolerant, clubby upper class climate which allowed a traitor like Blunt to flourish for so long.
   
   On the surface, the purpose of this book is to present a balanced judgment on the life and deeds of Anthony Blunt. Its rhetoric is indeed a model of moderate, even-tempered balance. But that is not the character of the book, nor is a balanced account its true purpose. What this book actually represents is an example of what it sets out to document--the extraordinarily forgiving attitude of the English upper classes to the Cambridge spies who betrayed their country.
   
   It can only be hoped that its appealing surfaces will not persuade the public to accept this Blunt biography as anything other than an all-too-refined case of special pleading on behalf of a cunning, unrepentent, and all-too-refined traitor to his country.



5. Miranda Carter has been justly acclaimed for producing a biography on Anthony Blunt that cuts through all the weird and assorted myths that have attached to him over the years since the revelations of his spying were made public. This book is richly rewarding as it connects the many lives of this very private public figure. Blunt is a complex personality and it took thorough research and the skill of a good writer to fully appreciate and capture these many and varied layers. The examination into the world of academia and art history was particularly well done and held the interest of this reader. I picked up this book because of the spying details but, to my surprise, found myself as riveted by all the other aspects of this man's live. This book, unlike all the others written about the Cambridge spies, does not come with an axe to grind and it is all the stronger for that abscence. Highly recommended.

2 comments about Wedgwood: The First Tycoon.

1. There was a time when consumers had no brand names to go by, and now we have plenty of them. What was the first one? A good case could be made for the name Wedgwood, the fine pottery that has come for over two hundred years from the factory founded by Josiah Wedgwood in the pottery towns of Staffordshire, England. Not only has the name continued, but it has been from the beginning synonymous with fine taste. Its finest wares were bought for their elegance by aristocrats, and then there were other pottery creations that lesser mortals could buy as their betters set the trends for taste. Josiah Wedgwood knew all about the importance of a name, and about the need to catch the public taste and predict the next fashion. In _Wedgwood: The First Tycoon_ (Viking), Brian Dolan has given us a compelling account of a commercial success story that has many resonances with modern business practices on the cutting edge of technology, while taking into account a wider view of the social aspects of commerce in the eighteenth century.
   
   It is in many ways a rags to riches tale. Wedgwood's family had been Staffordshire potters for generations, but the potting works had been allowed to languish by Wedgwood's grandfather and father, who had no idea what innovation was. He was determined to do things differently, and he had absorbed the idea that progress and profits could be made scientifically. He was a Dissenter, a non-Anglican who favored rational inquiry rather than biblical interpretation as be the best manner of understanding the way the world works. He loved experimenting all his life. "Labor I will not call it," he said of his time-consuming and exacting experiments. He instead called it "entertainment," and he entertained himself into some of the most technically advanced potting techniques of the time. His innovations allowed calculated business gambles, which generally paid off. He was astute in predicting or making tastes; when Pompeian styles became vogue, Wedgwood was at the fore with the invention of "colored jasper", his medium for reproducing ancient pots.
   
   Wedgwood was dedicated to self improvement and to improvement of his society, and knew that business was a means to accomplish both. In pursuit of better business, he caused better roads and then a canal to be built as part of his social schemes. He provided training, housing, education, health care, and even retirement plans for those who worked for him. He was a tough boss, fuming against "dilatory, drunken, Idle, worthless workmen." When he strolled through the workshop, he might spy an offending vessel that failed to meet with his standards. He would smash it with his stick, exclaiming, "This will not do for Josiah Wedgwood." He was troubled by others stealing his ideas; there are tales here of commercial chicanery and theft that are the same as newspapers might report today. He valued fair competition; of another manufacturer, Matthew Boulton, he wrote, "He will not be a mere sniveling Copyist like the antagonists I have hitherto had," but rather a spur to better wares. Wedgwood had enormous confidence; having become Potter to Her Majesty, he wrote that he wanted to become "Vase maker General to the Universe." He largely succeeded, harnessing the technological, social, and commercial forces of his time. Dolan's admiring but full portrait shows that many of Wedgwood's values of style, research, innovation, and marketing were new with him but have continued to our own age.



2. My mother and some of my siblings worked in a pottery factory, and in my youth I went there many times and caught some glimpses of how things were done. This factory employed hundreds of workers. doing some awful, monotonous, carpal tunnel-generating routines. They made only the most basic stuff, quickly and cheaply. Nothing produced was of much beauty, but it was the town's most important employer, and many workers gave their lives over to it.
   
   Wedgewood pottery has always intrigued me--how the devil do they produce such incredibly beautiful stuff, so different from what I saw there? How are the finer pieces made with such reproducibility and perfection? There is a fine story here and Dolan has told it well.
   
   When Josiah Wedgewood was born in 1730, the youngest of twelve children, into the home of a potter in the Britain's Midlands. His humble beginnings, rising through the ranks, finally, at the age of 29, led him to establish his own small pottery business. Wedgewood was determined to achieve greater success and made a key decision--that he would continuously improve the processes used and invent new and wonderful things. He established a routine of constant experimentation and recorded all of his results meticulously into a laboratory notebook. He was constantly looking for new combinations of materials and firing methods to get new glazes and improved results. He looked for reliable, reproducible processes that could be introduced into his small factory. And he inspired his men to improve right along with the processes by paying careful attention to their working conditions, their safety, and their security. His men loved him, and he succeeded to become the foremost manufacturer of his day.
   
   Wedgewood's paid very careful attention to the fashions of the day, and strived to keep abreast. This required an approach that was constantly changing--resting on one's laurels and yesterday's success would only lead to failure. He produced much that was top of the line, and learned to market to the trend setters and royalty, then moving the product into the growing middle class.
   
   The setting in which he struggled was the early industrial revolution, where change was accelerating in Britain through a confluence of forces that are only poorly understood even today. Giants seemed to stalk the earth, and Wedgewood came to know many of them. He knew James Watt, and his metal-working partner Mathew Boulton, who at one point even tried to compete with him. This was the era of canal-building, and Wedgewood played a big role in this too.
   
   Much of this story is contained, though in much less detail, in _The Lunar Men_ by Jenny Uglow, which I would also recommend. Curiously, though, Wedgewood is counted as one of the five central members of the Lunar Society (encompassing a whole column in the index), this is mentioned only once by Dolan.
   
   The author has done an outstanding job in this book and it is well written. The sixteen pages of glossy photos contribute a lot to the book too. The story told here is an inspiring one, and will certainly encourage the reader to learn more about this astounding era.

3 comments about Fanny Kemble's Journals.

1. Fanny Kemble provides us with a unique and courageous account of the 'peculiar institution' that was thrust upon her by her marriage to Pierce Butler, the wealthy scion of a Southern plantation owner.
   Already a celebrated actress when she came to America, Fanny was well-educated and accustomed to earning her own living when she married Pierce. It was only after traveling from Philadelphia to Butler Island, near Darien, Georgia, that she became aware of the full horror and degradation of slavery. She toured the plantation, helped to nurse the sick, did what she could to improve their conditions, and opened her door to all who dared to air their grievances, much to the dismay of her husband. Eventually, their disagreements on these points led to a divorce, and Fanny returned to Europe where she resumed her theatrical career.
   This volume also contains Fanny's letters to friends and confidants that provide a valuable insight into the cultural climate in England as well as America for much of the 19th century.
   These journals and letters are not only entertaining, but a must for any serious student of American history.



2. I must say, I have never seen insight so dignified on such a subject in all my years of book review. When I read this book, every page enlighten me with an overwhelming sensation of sadness, guilt, freedom and anger. Every one of my emotions were totally stimulated by this master piece of modern society. Regardless of the date in which Fanny published this book, it still leaves a gruesome reminder of the pure agony suffered from the hands of Prejudice and Hate. I have just finished watching the TV movie of Fanny's story, and I am absolutely blown away by the extreme emotional precision used in creating this film. Let this film and this book be a lasting reminder, to the youth of our age. It is important for the younger teenage generations of this new century, understand the facts of what had to be done, to win them the lives they have today. I rate this book 5 plus stars. It was amazing. :-) ~ LiteratureLuver418thCentury... ~



3. I was attracted to this book after I saw the movie, Enslavement, based on the life of Fanny Kemble who lived before, during and after the Civil War. This book uses exerpts from her letters and journals to tell the story of her adult life, but it does not contain all of her written material. She published several journals, letter collectiions, and plays. Fanny was a remarkable woman, obviously much before her time. She was unusually independent and energenic, and her writing includes few of the steriotypes typical of the period. However, we are able to see how the customs of society restricted her ability to act, especilly her efforts to help eliminate slavery and improve the life of her husband's slaves. Because of her popularity as an actress she was able to earn a living after divorcing her husband, but he had control over their children until they reached adulthood. This book gives unusual insight into the lifestyles and concerns of the period. It actually reads like a novel.

5 comments about Henry VIII.

1. Sometimes appearances can be deceiving. When I first received this book and saw how HUGE it was (and in small print, yet), I thought I was in for a long, tedious and boring read. In other words, the kind of book that you start but it becomes harder and harder to keep reading until you finally give up way before the ending.
   
   To my surprise, this book engrossed my attention from day one and became impossible to put down. Jasper Ridley has done a masterful job of giving us a very detailed biography of one of the most memorable kings in history. Unlike so many other books about Henry, Ridley refuses to monopolize the subject matter with sensationalistic details revolving around Henry's wives. Instead, he concentrates on the much more important religious, political and social aspects of his reign.
   
   I think this book captures the true essence of Henry VIII--a tyrant, selfish, arrogant, and demanding. A person who in almost every instance was able to manipulate people into doing his dirty work for him. An individual who could play tennis with a subject he considered a "friend", such as Thomas More, and then easily have this bosom companion executed without nary a shred of remorse whenever it would serve Henry's advantage to do so. One of Henry's most popular practices was to sail the Thames surrounded by women and fawning courtiers while a former close advisor, friend etc. was being executed. This king was a master of disguise, making it appear that he had little or nothing to do with distasteful events and absenting himself from the controversy at hand.
   
   The author mentions early on that, in effect, while gazing at the famous Holbein portrait of Henry VIII in all his glory, people were mesmerized by the majesty as portrayed in the painting. What they did not notice were the hard, unfeeling and pig-like eyes that were barely visible in the already bloated face. If the eyes indeed are the "windows of the soul", Henry was a very cruel individual indeed.
   
   Although his reign was extremely productive in many ways, such as his interest in solidifying England as a naval power, the most striking aspect is, of course, the religious break with Rome. Here too, Henry waffles back and forth as the winds blow. To say this was an achievement is merely subjective; it began a period of intense religious misunderstandings which resulted in the deaths of untold innocent people who refused to accept this or that form of religious belief and worship. As such, I cannot classify Henry's break with Rome as a positive issue. I am not religious, and therefore perhaps not qualified to judge this. But the results of this action are being felt well into modern times. It is a subjective issue as to whether this extreme action on his part set his country and Europe on the right course.
   
   As initially stated, do not be put off by the size of this book. It will engage your attention and provide a picture of Henry (essentially minus the much touted wife leaping) that probably comes closest to what this famous monarch was actually like.



2. Yet again, J Ridley takes the reader on a remarkable journey, guiding you through the maze of factual background without ever letting your hand go. His mastery of the English language and notable training as a barrister make him the best narrator of the century.



3. Ridley is brilliant as ever. In his masterly style, he portrays both historic detail and periodic insight in such manner that the reader is captivated from the first page onwards. The ongoing battle with Lady Antonia Frazer's biography is a delight (especially when historical inaccuracies in her biography are condemned to footnotes). A book one cannot put down for a single moment.



4. Jasper Ridley's bio of Henry VIII, if nothing else, suggests to me that executioners must have had a steady employment during early 16th-century England. In Ridley's biography, England's formative king is essentially a psychopath, and the country became Protestant, not because of any doctrinal attachment to the Reformation, but as a consequence of political machinations and goals on Henry's part. This, in fact, is one of the book's great strengths; Ridley is rare among biographers in his thorough attention to and excellent summary of the thicket of political events surrounding Tudor England, and this book does an excellent job of explaining these intricacies. Especially fascinating was the depiction of the conflict between Henry and Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. Henry would have probably gotten the papal annulment that he wanted to dissolve his marriage to Katharine of Aragon, if only Charles had not effectively controlled the pope and been such a bitter enemy of Henry's; then Henry would have found no need to break from the Catholic Church, and history would be entirely different! For a Renaissance monarch, Henry seems more to resemble one of the 20th century's bloodthirsty dictators in this book. While the depiction initially surprised me, Ridley backs up his claims with such excellent documentation and use of primary sources (which I was able to check), that he definitely has a point! A fascinating bio.



5. Ridley paints a picture of a King who is as ruthless a tyrant as any 20th Century dictator. Henry VIII is shown as a ruler who forced his ministers to do his bidding and then executed them to satisfy public opinion, once his policies began to loose popular support. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, including breaking with the Pope in Rome and reforming the Church in England with him as the head, when the Pope refused to grant him an annulment from his wife, who could not give him a male heir. Thereafter, Henry played Protestant and Catholic factions against each other, so that he could remain in complete control as an arbiter; alternatively burning influential Protestants as heretics and Catholics who refused to recognize him as Supreme head of the Church of England as traitors. Ridley's picture shows us a king who would stop at absolutely nothing to get what he wanted, including turning society and 1000 years of religion completely upside down! A fascinating look at the Stalin of the 1500s!

5 comments about The Last Knight: The Twilight of the Middle Ages and the Birth of the Modern Era.

1. An enjoyable read, using one of the most underrated characters of the middle ages as a lens into the time. While I don't always agree with Cantor's interpretations, he synthesizes the important bits for the lay reader. A very nice read, for those who want to spare many of the details and go straight to the big picture stuff.



2. While the book isn't quite as bad as other reviewers or the Amazon star-rating indicate, it's not what the publisher advertises it to be - a book on chivalry and John of Gaunt. Threads of these themes appear throughout, but the book comprises random thoughts and insights about upper class medieval life, occasionally with comparisons to other centuries in Europe and the U.S. It reads like a series of classroom lectures in introductory medieval history.
   
   To that end, it has more value than earlier reviewers give it. If you are new to medieval history, this book is as good a place to start as any for information on the class structure, political and social attitudes, and economics of the times. It is not, however, an examination - even on an introductory level - of John of Gaunt. The author's attempt to interweave information about this important historical figure fails.



3. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that publishers should be held legally liable merely for publishing poorly written, banal, politically correct, ahistorical drivel like this book. We rightly protect the freedoms of speech and of the press regarless of the intrinsic value of the speech. (Although I do wonder if Profesor Cantor is solely responsible for this garbage. Perhaps it was his awareness that, as his life was nearing its end, he was bequeathing to the reading public this mess, which led him to so pointedly acknowledge how his literary agent and editor had both "been very helpful in shaping the manuscript" ... which coincidentally represents their last payday from the bestselling author).
   
   As I say, that's not why the publisher should be sued. No, my contention that someone should sue the publisher is based on their own baldfaced false advertisement on the book cover.
   
   They claim that "Norman F. Cantor brings to life John of Gaunt..." He does nothing of the sort. In fact John of Gaunt is really nothing more in the book than a foil for the author's social musings on class and sexual mores and a rant about today's "billionaire capitalists."
   
   To really see where Cantor is heading, just go straight to his last chapter, "The End of the Middle Ages." Here he abandons all pretense to historical perspective or even to staying within shouting distance of his supposed topic. The chapter staggers from unfounded assertion to wild speculation to sweeping generalization to confident prediction of the future like a sawdust preacher haranguing a tentful of simpletons. The moderately informed reader will feel both insulted and somewhat embarrased for the author.
   
   Real scholarship of the past 20 years based on examining a wider body of evidence is dismissed as the faddish popularity of medieval catholicism among historians (p.221). But never fear, Cantor assures us "the truth of the older [Protestant/Whig] view cannot be denied and will slowly be reasserted." Hogwash.
   
   Possible examples can be multipled from almost any page of the book but, as brevity is the soul of wit, I fear I may already have gone on too long.
   
   If someone ever gets around to filing that lawsuit, sign me up for the plaintiff's list. I figure they owe me for the purchase price of the book as well as a litle something in compensation for the hours I spent reading it and waiting (in vain) for it to get less worse.



4. John of Gaunt and his brother Edward the Black Prince have intrigued me since I first took an English History course for my MA, so I purchased this book despite the negative reviews. While it contains at least something on each and their relationship, the book is really not very informative. In fact, you might intuit most of what the author says from just a little knowledge of the period, so general are the author's remarks.
   
   The book was written by a popular although somewhat controversial medieval historian, Norman F. Cantor, during his twilight years. His earlier works were lauded as accessible to the reading public and enjoyed considerable commercial popularity, but according to the Wickipedia entry, his original research was scant and often at variance with other historians, receiving mixed reviews in the journals.
   
   This book is almost sad. The professor died in September of 2004 at the age of 75, and the book was published that same year. One presumes that it was an attempt to recreate something of his earlier success with one last book. I have read other books written by professors at the end of their lives and have been far more impressed. It is a nice way of summarizing the knowledge of a lifetime career and leaving a legacy of what was known and contributed by the author up to that time. I have read a couple of books of this type, including The New Catastrophism: The Rare Event in Geological History by Derek Agar and Ancient Israel's Faith and History: An Introduction to the Bible in Context by George Mendenhall, both of which were quite good. Unfortunately The Last Knight does not stand up well to scrutiny.
   
   I'm not certain to whom I'd even recommend the volume; it is written almost at the level of the middle school student in style and approach, but the material jumps too much from topic to topic, despite the well organized chapter headings: Old Europe, The Great Families, Plantagenet England, Women, Warriors, Spain, The Church, Peasants, Politics, Chaucer, The End of the Middle Ages. They are well chosen topics, but the content is almost random. Each chapter seems to include a hodge-podge of what might easily have been quotes from lecture notes taken out of context but which seemed "too good to leave out." The result is a confusing mix of genealogy and gossipy generalizations.
   
   The author's parenthetical remarks make the book seem coy and dated and probably do more to reveal the author's issues (ie. Ivy league professors, anti-Semitism, etc.) than the period or individuals about whom he writes. Certainly the mention of "illicit sex," "promiscuous sex," and "homosexuality" while it might have been titillating, scandalous, rebellious or even progressive to the young college student in the morally transitional sixties, will seem banal and quaint to a young person today to whom the whole issue is a nonstarter. It reveals the remarkable degree to which Professor Cantor was out of touch with the young at the end of his life.
   
   Part of the problem may well be that the topic, while it is narrowed to the life of John of Gaunt, is really about the age of John of Gaunt. In the absence of any personal letters, the only facts about the man are general ones abstracted from legal and economic documents. To flesh out the book, the author relies upon what is known about other aristocrats of this period; and it's a long period. The author includes information from the reigns of kings as disparate as William of Normandy (1066) to Henry VII (about 1500). That takes in a lot of ground. One must presume that, except perhaps technologically, a lot of change occurred in social behaviors, just as they do now. In fact, even in technology things were changing at a break neck pace compared to the previous 500 years. One might point out that the intrigue, ambition, social interactions and tangled geneology of the time of John of Gaunt were what set up the country for the chaotic period of the War of the Roses which so inspired Shakespeare in his plays Henry IV and Richard III. In short, there is just too much to cover for a book of only 250 pages. More might have been done with a greater degree of focus and better editing.
   
   For those readers who desire a more complete introduction to the Middle Ages and despite the fact that it covers the period immediately preceding John of Gaunt, I would suggest England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings, 1075-1225 (New Oxford History of England) by Robert Bartlett. Although it is a very heavy and serious work, and may lose those interested in only a casual read, it covers the period more thoroughly and its documentation is without parallel. It will certainly set up the reader to more critically evaluate other books on the period for quality and content.
   
   
   The book suggests haste and an attempt to produce "one last book."



5. I bought this book knowing that it was an attempt at "popular history," and therefore I would never try to hold it to academic historical writing standards. However, even as an easy-reading book for entertainment, this work is horrible.
   
   
   1. First of all, this book is extremely repetitive. I imagine the author was paid by the word, because it is not uncommon to see the same piece of information re-introduced to you numerous times in the span of a few pages (let alone the ideas that were revisited in distant parts of the book). For an example, read pages 122-124.
   
   2. Secondly, the writing is very disorganized, despite the topic-centered chapters the author attempted. Mainly when he is repeating himself, the author will slip in "facts" or ideas that may seem to relate to the time period in general, but have no context within the surrounding paragraphs.
   
   3. Lastly, many of Cantor's claims go beyond "speculation" to the realm of "completely unfounded." One appalling example is on page 81, where the author writes, "if John of Gaunt had written to his mistress Catherine Swynford, it may have been along these lines," followed by a made-up letter. This comes 5 lines after Cantor has written that "not one personal letter" has survived from Gaunt. Clearly, this letter then has no basis even in Gaunt's other writing, and it is wholly unnecessary for the sake of the book.
   
   
   This book has been painful and insulting to read. Overall, there was very little substance. I do enjoy popular history very much, when it is done well, but even as a piece of writing, this particular piece of writing fails miserably. I would be mortified to have my name associated with writing this bad; both the writing and the research were at the level of a young high-schooler, in my opinion. In fact, I'm rather afraid that by purchasing this book, I've encouraged the publishing world to turn out more of this.
   
   
   If you want a general overview of the medieval England, I'd try The Making of England to 1399 by Hollister, Stacey and Stacey. It covers everything from King Alfred to Richard II, and is very readable.
   The Making of England to 1399 (History of England, vol. 1)

2 comments about The English Eccentrics.

1. Who but Dame Edith Sitwell could produce such a wonderful send-up of the British, poking fun by speaking the truth as she saw it, in The English Eccentrics. Eccentricity was often simply the Ordinary carried to a high degree of pictorial perfection, Sitwell claims, and thus we get a gifted glimpse of the usually-overlooked obvious.
   
   Of course, there is so much material to work with, it is a wonder the book isn't multi-volumed! Originally published in 1933, it retains much of its vitality and levity despite being two generations (at least) behind the times. Sitwell caught the character of the English Eccentric at a time just before the wholesale decline of Empire, and thus the character portrayed here is a 'standard' one.
   
   'Eccentricity exists particularly in the English, and partly, I think, because of that peculiar and satisfactory knowledge of infallibility that is the hallmark and birthright of the British nation.'
   
   In the relating of small tales and glimpses of life, Sitwell takes us through a history of language usage and abusage, cultural niceties gone awry, personal proclivities taken to extremes, historical remembrances remembered a bit incorrectly, all the while maintaining a strong British 'we know just what we're doing, thank you, and we're doing it quite correctly' attitude.
   
   We find hermits, both ancient and ornamental (the distinction between the two of course being a relative flash that one would think inimical to the hermit-age); quacks and alchemists, some members of the sporting set (we learn of one who, in an attempt to scare the hiccups out of himself, set fire to his nightshirt--of course he was still in it--and was satisfied despite the burns that his hiccups had been vanquished), various other sorts and sets in the land.
   
   Perhaps the most valuable lesson to be learned from this book would the Of the Benefits of Posthumous Fame. Using Milton as the first example, Sitwell proceeds to demonstrate just how this posthumous fame (for the man who sold Paradise Lost for the meagre sum of £20) can be a great boon to all concerned, particularly those who have the foresight to collect locks of hair or write poetry about rummaging through the bone-remains of the dead poet. Of course, there followed in short order a detailed (yet anonymous) description of why the poet could not have actually handled the bones of the poet, not least of which being that as the grave said 1653, and Milton was not in fact buried until 1674, et cetera; thus begins an active correspondence of attempting to prove or disprove in fashion why Milton was not bodily handled.
   
   This is a thoroughly English treatment; like her eccentrics, Sitwell's style of writing is likewise gloriously eccentric. Much will be missed on the first reading, and again the second; by the third reading (should you be so eccentric as to persevere through to such) you will either be so charmed by the writing that you will carry this book around, quoting passages that need context to be understood (and thus be ordained into a minor order of eccentricity yourself) or, you will give the book away to the most tedious of your friends, hoping that the friend will take the hint.
   
   The choice is yours.



2. The inimitable Edith Sitwell, in her jewelled prose, weaves together the threads of assorted strange personages, and the effect is hypnotic. The approach is poetic, oblique, and perhaps not to everyone's taste - and if it were, would you be at all interested? I, for one, was enchanted by her descriptions of, for example, the amphibious Lord Rokeby, the Ornamental Hermits, the dandy Romeo Coates, the rascally William Huntington "the coal-heaver Preacher", the intrepid Squire Waterton, and the ingenious Princess Caraboo, among dozens of others.

   Such understated whimsy within these pages! Such a singular philosophy bound these disparate lives! Read, for example, of the rich Miss Beswick, whose sole concern was that, having passed on, she might not realize it, and that her death "might prove to be only an illusion, a dreamless sleep." And so she left a large sum of money to a certain doctor and his family, "on condition that the doctor should pay her a visit every morning, after what appeared to uninstructed persons, to be her death, in order that he might be assured of the reality of this." Dame Edith dryly notes, "When the Doctor died, the mummified Miss Beswick, that candidate for immortality, was removed to the Lying-in Hospital."

   It's Edith Sitwell's droll, ornate prose, moreso even than the picturesque eccentrics, that make this a book to savor, to read bits of aloud, in the small hours of the night.

   And now the hurled invective: Shame! Shame that this book is out of print! What poverty-stricken, unpoetic times are these?

5 comments about The Napoleon of Crime: The Life and Times of Adam Worth, Master Thief.

1. Adam Worth was perhaps the greatest criminal mind of the Victorian Era. William Pinkerton of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, hunter and eventually friend to Worth, called him "the most remarkable, most successful and most dangerous professional criminal known to modern times", and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle used him as a model for Sherlock Holmes' arch-rival Professor Moriarty. "The Napoleon of Crime: The Life and Times of Adam Worth, Master Thief" presents the life, crimes, and associates of this talented crook, who began life in poverty and fashioned himself into a wealthy English gentleman, stealing more than $4 million dollars in 30 years, personally and through vast networks of underlings who would never have guessed who pulled the strings.
   
   Author Ben Macintyre makes use of Pinkerton's research and the memoirs of Worth's criminal contemporaries to flesh out his early life as the eldest child of poor German immigrants and a bounty jumper during the Civil War as a young man, before Worth was off to New York and a life of crime. A haul of nearly $1 million dollars with partner Charley Bullard from the 1869 robbery of Boylston Bank in Boston set him on his way to a distinguished criminal career. Worth adopted the alias Henry Judson Raymond, which he would use for the rest of his life, and found success at forgery, bank robbery, diamond heists, and, notably, art theft. In1876, Worth stole Gainsborough's painting of the notorious Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire from a London art gallery.
   
   Macintyre places much emphasis on Worth's attachment to the painting of the Duchess. This is one of many clumsy attempts to analyze Worth's character, which annoyed me after a while. There is no doubt that Worth was uncommonly sober, disciplined, loyal, generous, and non-violent for a crook -or, for that matter, for anyone. At the same time, he stole on a grand scale. Macintyre finds more contradiction in this than Worth did and looks unconvincingly for explanations in his early life and in Victorian hypocrisy. There is too much speculation and commenting on people's morals for my taste. Numerous digressions which are tangential to the subject serve as padding. I would have preferred less of that and more detail about Worth's pyramid-style networks. Unfortunately, "The Napoleon of Crime" is more a padded popular biography than a scholarly social history, but it does succeed in making Adam Worth a fascinating figure.



2. I picked this book up because it is heavily promoted by Amazon with Confessions of a Jewel Thief, Bill Mason's larger than life book about being a burglar. These books have nearly nothing in common other than fitting into the true crime genre. Macintyre misses the mark by getting bogged down in details and random facts (his research is impressive, yes) and forgetting to spin a compelling tale. There is too much material here with no cohesive narrative. Many other readers have hit it in the head by identifying the failings of Mason to focus solely on the topic of Worth and his exploits.



3. If you meander through all these reviews, checking the lower-rated ones, you will get a fairly accurate view of this book. I have read hundreds of true crime books, and this ranks near the bottom. It is a fascinating topic. Or should be. But in the hands of this author, it is a tedious, irritating, blather. Let me explain.
   
   Two of my favorite reads in the past few years make interesting comparisons. Big Trouble by J. Anthony Lukas was one of the most fascinating books I've ever read. Lukas wandered far and wide, reeling in everything and everyone, and in doing so, built a portrait of a time and place that was riveting. Every detail was useful, every speculation added value. Some of the reviewers found the rambles bothersome; I have rarely finished such a big book wishing it were even longer, but Big Trouble left me wanting more.
   
   A similar book was Dark Horse by Kenneth Ackerman. Extraneous details were seamlessly woven into the tale, making the world come alive and the characters multi-dimensional. I could almost hear the creak of boots and smell the cigar smoke. Skilled writing and skilled choosing.
   
   But this book ambles pointlessly, dragging in details that are neither of interest in themselves nor add to the tale being told. Long excursions into the lives of everyone who wanders into the main tale, endless condescending sermonizing about Victorian moralizing and double-standards, repetitive and irritating discursions into the "double" which the author seems to think the Victorians invented, and the most silly and irritating speculation sink this tale. Which is amazing, for the story of Adam Worth in the hands of the most plodding storyteller should be gripping. The man was a doer of great evil (which Macintyre blows off rather casually; Adam Worth left a wake of broken businesses, crushed dreams, falsely accused victims, and bankrupted people, but because he shot no one, and was "elegant" it seems OK.) He committed some astonishingly brave and brazen crimes. But there just isn't enough there that we can know, so invented details that grow wearying are heaped on.
   
   At one point, Macintyre compares Worth to Captain Nemo. Now, this is a weak comparison on its own grounds, but then we get something about "no one knows if Worth read the book, but if he did, he would certainly see himself there." Now there's a pointless speculation. One of the common tactics of authors trying to puff up a lesser talent is to compare their achievements in some irrelevant way. "As Shakespeare did, So-and-so lived in Stratford," thereby gratuitously tying a grade z author and an acknowledged master. At gerat length the author "compares and contrasts" Worth and J.P. Morgan, in a stupendously overblown manner. Over and over we are told how Worth would have enjoyed this quip by Wilde. Give us a break, pal. The guy was a crook, a scuzz, a humbug, and a thug who hurt many, many people, much like Melmotte in Trollope's novel, The Way We Live Now (another book we don't know if Worth read.)



4. I agree with the reviewers saying this book missed its target. It seems like MacIntyre couldn't find sufficient material for a book about Adam Worth, but went ahead and wrote it anyway. My guess is that there's plenty of information about "The Duchess of Devonshire," and so MacIntyre used that to pad out his manuscript. Worth pulled off plenty of other capers, and I'd like to read about those. What I don't want to read is the author's unsubstantiated speculation about Worth's psyche.
   
   If you're interested in the provenance of the "Duchess," this book might be an interesting read. Otherwise, I'd recommend Asbury's "Gangs of New York." Two of Worth's contemporaries and sometime associates also wrote books which might be worth tracking down. These were Sophie Lyons and William Pinkerton.



5. This book provides a fascinating portrait of one of the last of the gentleman criminals. In fact, Adam Worth wanted to be known solely as a gentleman rather than as a notorious criminal. The crimes were simply his way of gaining power and prestige in a Victorian world where he could never gain this position without buying it. And buy it he did by perpetrating almost every crime imaginable. An honorable thief who was fiercly loyal to his henchmen, Worth was devilishly clever, many times carrying out operations right out in the open without being caught. No wonder Doyle tapped him for Sherlock Holmes' arch-rival and Elliot immortalized him as Macavity, the Mystery Cat. Not bad for a guy who officially "died" in the Civil War at the 2nd Battle of Bull Run (reports of his death were greatly exaggerated--and he used his deceased status for financial gain, thus beginning his very lucrative criminal career).
   Much of the book is taken up with his most famous crime, the stealing the "Duchess of Devonshire" by Gainsborough mere weeks after it was sold at the highest price ever paid for a painting up to that time. For a crime that was almost done on a whim, it is the one for which he is most well known and for which he was never caught (he returned the painting 25 years later anonymously).
   Two very nice sub-themes run throughout the book. First was his undying love for his best friend's wife, Kitty Flynn. Flynn went on from humble beginnings (and after dropping he thieving hubby) to become a true Victorian lady of note, but Worth never dropped the torch he held for her (he was probably the father of two of her children).
   The second was his friendship with William Pinkerton later in life. Born of mutual respect for each other throughout their careers as antagonists, Pinkerton not only did not volunteer evidence that could have condemned Worth to life in prison after he was caught and exposed, but also brokered the return of the Duchess while keeping Worth anonymous. Pinkerton mourned Worth when he died and kept a promise to watch out for his children by bringing his son into the detective agency, an ironic legacy for the Napoleon of Crime.
   Fascinating stuff. Truly stranger than fiction.

No comments about Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother 1900-2002.

5 comments about Richard III: England's Black Legend.

1. I have been fascinated by Richard III since I saw on TV , when I was seven years old , the 1955 Laurence Olivier adaptation of the Shakespeare play.
   
   
   In this book , Desmond Seward makes a compelling case for his theory that Richard III of England was indeed a bloodthirsty tyrant who cut down all who got in the way of his Machiavellian ambition , that the traditional view of Richard III (outlined dramtically by Shakespeare) is very near the truth.
   The author believes King Richard to have been the cruellest tyrant to have ever occupied the English throne . Seward gives seemingly incontrovertible evidence that he did indeed murder his young nephews in the tower , shining a new light on the tragedy of these boys. He outlines how Richard almost undoubtedly murdered Henry VI and very possibly Henry's son too.
   His death brought to an end , a nightmare for England , not least for Richard himself , who seward believes to have been highly paranoid , and disturbed by psychotic episodes.
   
   
   Seward re-examines contemporary sources , and also Sir Thomas Mores life of the King , which contained much valubale information that Seward brought to light.
   He gives us a history of events leading up to Richard's seizure of power , after the War of the Roses , analyses of the key power players in the England of the time producing the picture of a 'peculiarly grim young English precursor of Machiavelli's Prince'
   
   Defenders of Richard III have criticized this work , but is undoubdetly a major component in shedding light on the life of Richard III and the England of the times.



2. Reading this book is a good way to get to know the basic story of Richard III, and the related context of English history in the time of the "War of the Roses." To my mind, the greatest virtue of the book is Seward's recognition of Richard as a prince in the Machiavellian style: a ruthless, conniving tyrant. What is weakest in the book is the author's pronounced psychological naivete: even as he writes of Richard as an alert political strategist, willing to do anything to advance his own cause, the author interprets his attitudes and decisions as if they were being made by someone with average working-class values and education. Overall, though, the story is well-told, with a readable mix of engaging narrative and scholarly history.



3. While Seward makes some convincing arguments and successfully rebuts some Ricardian explanations, he does so in a horribly pretentious manner. He makes the constant claim that Richard was unpopular, which may have been so, but he does not bother to use reliable sources to prove it. He is also guilty of using the words 'obviously' and 'plainly' while not giving the reader any inication why he thinks these things are so obvious and plain. An example of this is found when Seward states, "When speaking of Richard, Commynes uses the word 'proud' more than once. Plainly he employs it in the sense of vain glory or self delusion. Had he known the word 'hubris' he would have used that too." Be that as it may, Seward does not offer any proof as to why he believes the word 'proud' is used to mean self delusion, and his assumption that the writer would have used 'hubris' hints of Seward's own pride and arrogance. This neglect to explain basic charges runs throughout the entire book, which makes it an almost unbearable read to one simply trying to find out the truth, rather than wallow in anti-Ricardian sentiment. Almost all historians of Richard III are guilty of writing from bias, but it is not usually so suffocating as this.



4. I got this as a result of seeing Ian McKellen's film version of the Shakespearean play. It left me wanting more History as well as more Drama. I had heard that Shakespeare was essentially writing anti-Richard propaganda, since the man who defeated him, Richmond, went on to become Henry VII grandfather of Queen Elizabeth. But while the truth is no doubt more complicated than the play suggests, Seward convincingly shows that Shakespeare got the essentials right even if he did take a few liberties. He doesn't merely elucidate the character of Richard himself, but of those around him. The Woodvilles, Ann, Catesby, Tyrell, Brackenbury, the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Stanley were all real players in Richard's rise and fall, well known at the time for their victimizations through or their contributions to his tyranny. (Catesby for example was known as the Cat in a popular rhyme of the day.) Seward gives an in depth though not necessarily complete view of the constraints and shared assumptions they were operating under which eventually leads to the characterization of the King himself. It's difficult to tell how much of Richard's tyranny stemmed from the bloodthirstiness of the times he lived in, or if good really triumphed over evil at Bosworth field, and Seward makes no assertions to that effect. But he does throw into sharp relief the flaws that earned Richard his bloody reputation, and they aren't saintly ones. He is also very clear cut about which primary sources he is drawing from, Thomas More, Dominic Mancini and the Croyland Chronicler, how they culled their information, and how he reads them. I'm sure there's a wealth of information on this subject, yet I found this book to be a very satisfying introduction.



5. This is an entertaining mixture of historical story-telling, scholary gumshoe work, and criticism. No aspect overpowers the book, which makes it an interestingly told history, and a well-shaped argument for Seward's perspective of Richard III's reign.

   Of course, so much of his work in the primary sources leads him to numerous conjectural qualifications. This state of affairs demonstrates why there is so much divergence of opinion on Richard III. However, if both Richard's contemporary subjects and their progeny have such a consistently malignant view of the man's rule, why go to such effort to rehabilitate (revisionize) him? It is obvious Richard's black legend is not solely a product of Tudor propaganda. The man simply did all the heavy lifting on establishing history's view of his reign.

   Seward's book is a good read. It's not a purely speculative, breathless narrative of "Maybe this happened, then that ... probably," but an argued case that approaches all of the sources in the field, primary and modern. This book has the potential to become the definitive history of Richard III and his reign; it simply lacks the appeals to cliched romanticism that surround much work in English history.