The Military Philosophers

A Dance to the Music of Time #9

by Anthony Powell

Anthony Powell's universally acclaimed epic A Dance to the Music of Time offers a matchless panorama of twentieth-century London. Now, for the first time in decades, readers in the United States can read the books of Dance as they were originally published--as twelve individual novels--but with a twenty-first-century twist: they're available only as e-books.

The ninth volume, The Military Philosophers (1968), takes the series through the end of the war. Nick has found a place, reasonably tolerable by army standards, as an assistant liaison with foreign governments in exile. But like the rest of his countrymen, he is weary of life in uniform and looking ahead to peacetime. Until then, however, the fortunes of war continue to be unpredictable: more names are cruelly added to the bill of mortality, while other old friends and foes prosper. Widmerpool becomes dangerously entranced by the beautiful, fascinating, and vicious Pamela Flitton; and Nick’s old flame Jean Duport makes a surprising reappearance. Elegiac and moving, but never without wit and perception, this volume wraps up Powell’s unsurpassed treatment of England’s finest yet most costly hour.

"Anthony Powell is the best living English novelist by far. His admirers are addicts, let us face it, held in thrall by a magician." --Chicago Tribune

"A book which creates a world and explores it in depth, which ponders changing relationships and values, which creates brilliantly living and diverse characters and then watches them grow and change in their milieu... Powell's world is as large and as complex as Proust's." --Elizabeth Janeway, New York Times

"One of the most important works of fiction since the Second World War... The novel looked, as it began, something like a comedy of manners; then, for a while, like a tragedy of manners; now like a vastly entertaining, deeply melancholy, yet somehow courageous statement about human experience." --Naomi Bliven, New Yorker

"The most brilliant and penetrating novelist we have." --Kingsley Amis

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Historical Fiction, War, British Literature, Novels, 20th Century

304 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1968

About the author

People best know British writer Anthony Dymoke Powell for A Dance to the Music of Time , a cycle of 12 satirical novels from 1951 to 1975.

This Englishman published his volumes of work. Television and radio dramatizations subjected major work of Powell in print continuously. In 2008, The Times newspaper named Powell among their list of "the fifty greatest British writers since 1945."

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony...

Reviews

[Algernon · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The Military Philosophers” is the third and final part of the Autumn sequence in the Dance to the Music of Time. It also covers the second world war up to the time of final victory. As usual, I looked into the first pages for a powerful, allegoric image to set the mood and to act as a catalyst for the flow of memories. I’m not sure I hit the right spot or if I’m simply lucky, because I have two images for the price of one admission:

First, there is a reiteration of the feelings of alienation and inadequacy as Nick Jenkins struggles to adapt to the World of Will, now with the narrator marooned within the endless corridors and darkened rooms of a Whitehall building:

Endemic as ghouls in an Arabian cemetery, harassed aggressive shades lingered for ever in such cells to impose on each successive inmate their preoccupations and anxieties, crowding him from floor and bed, invading and distorting his dreams.

Secondly, there is a musical reference underlining the grotesque, pointless and often humorous aspects of administrative work in this alien landscape. Jenkins compares one of his fellow inmates to the dwarf singing the opening aria of a famous Wagnerian opera:

“Labour unending
Toil without fruit!
The strongest sword
That I ever forged ...”

From this inauspicious beginnings though, emerges one of the most unusual and intriguing episodes of the Dance so far. Because it turns out that Nick Jenkins is not as clueless and as inefficient as he led us to believe. He’s finally found his niche in the immense machinery of war and, even in his small cog role, he puts his talents to good use in the service to his country. As a liaison officer between the British and their different allied nations in Europe, Jenkins has more of a diplomatic, socializing role than the Regimental front line commanding officer he failed at in the previous book. His upbringing, his cultural and social talents, his calm, detached atitude are all good assets for dealing with Polish, Belgian, French, Slovak, Yugoslavs and other exotic officers now fighting the war from the British soil. Jenkins is even showing signs of a reawakened interest in the study of ‘la comedie humaine’ that first led him to become a writer:

A claustrophobic existence offered, in this respect, the consolation of exceptional opportunities for observing people and situations closely in a particular aspect of war.

The move back to London marks also a return to the ‘gossip column’ aspect that defined for me some of the prewar episodes of the Dance. What makes this book special is that the ‘gossip’ takes a turn toward a high octane spy game involving several of the ‘old’ characters in the series, like Widmerpool, Farebrother, Odo Stevens, a mysterious foreigner whose name might or might not be Szymanski, Balkan royalty and a ‘femme fatale’ that keeps showing up in the most unexptected locations, not unlike Widmerpool in previous episodes.

I am slightly reluctant to go into details about the relationship between these characters, mostly because, unlike previous installments, book number nine actually has a plot of sorts, the above mentioned spy game that ends tragically for one major character, Peter Templer, and the evil mastermind turns out to be Widmerpool, who becomes more and more repulsive with each new book . I can still comment though on the character study, the big selling point of Anthony Powell, the ace in the hole that, together with his inimitable phrase contruction, makes the Dance one of the major artistic achievements of the period.

Characters usually fall into one of two broad categories as far as Powell is concerned : manipulators, denizens of the world of Will, and contemplators, or artists. Given the war setting, the first category is in the ascendant, a move already predicted by the actions of Widmerpool in the previous novel. A single, effective quote will I believe suffice to define the category in the guise of one of the ‘players’, Sunny Farebrother:

He does put himself over. A remarkable fellow in his way. Ambitious as hell, stops at nothing.

As a side note, Powell can unleash some powerful satirical broadsides from his contemplative battlements. The funniest episode for me was the revenge one of the ‘philosphers’ (Pennistone) exacts from one the petty tyrants that seem to gather like sharks to the smell of blood in the halls of government power. I’m talking around the epitome of the abusive clerk here, a figure of almost mythical proportions :

Until you have dealings with Blackhead, the word “bureaucrat” will have conveyed no meaning to you.

fight them with their own weapons, Pennistone advises, as he sends back a twenty page memo with a request for additional commentary

Pennistone is I believe the ‘philosopher’ in the title. I seem to remember he was quoting some French aphorism when he first met Jenkins in book number seven. Now he connects the dots in the liaison business and converses with Jenkins about the real politiks world:

A great illusion is that government is carried on by an infallible, incorruptible machine. Officials – all officials, of all governments – are just as capable of behaving in an irregular manner as anyone else.

Irregular behaviour in this part of the Dance revolves around the intriguing and ubiquitous presence of the beautiful Pamela Flytton, a young lady that seems to bear witness to American Pulps claim that the ‘female of the species is deadlier than the male’. For a while, in the opening pages of the novel, I thought that Nick Jenkins is flirting with adultery, given his fascination with Miss Flytton. I should have remembered our narrator reluctance to be candid about his own love life and his tendency to play coy with details of his marriage. Jenkins is definitely more of a voyeur than a player in this field:

Few subjects are more fascinating than other people’s sexual habits from the outside; the tangled strands of appetite, tenderness, convenience or some hope of gain.

Miss Flytton turns out to be much more than ‘the other woman’. She is at least the equal, if not the master of the men of will, like Widmerpool, Farebrother, Odo Stevens, Bob Duport and their ilk. Her motivations are obscure, and only another master of dissimulation and allegory is capable of geting a grip on her personality. I am hinting here at the return of another fascinating character of the Dance, the medium, Cassandra-like Mrs Erdleigh, who takes a look at the palm of Pamela during an air-raid:

What do most people know about any of their fellows? Little enough. Only those know, who are aware what is to be revealed. He may have betrayed the day of your birth. I do not remember. The rest I can tell from your beautiful face, my dear. You will not mind if I say that your eyes have something in them of the divine serpent that tempted Eve herself.

Mrs. Erdleigh continues by quoting a French chiromancy expert : ‘... la debauche, l’effronterie, la licence, le devergondage, la coquetterie, la vanite, l’esprit leger, l’inconstance, la paresse ...’ reinforcing the femme fatale image already established in earlier observations by Nick:

Giving men hell is what Miss Flitton likes.

- - -

Pamela Flitton gave the impression of being thoroughly vicious, using the word not so much in the moral sense, but as one might speak of a horse – more specifically, a mare.

Men line up though to be abused and insulted and dumped like used handkerchiefs by the beautiful Pamela, and in typical Powell fashion, we are warned that we might expect to see more of her dancing in the future. She’s just too good a character to waste after one novel. She is hilariously compared to a bombshell as she is finally linked to the other Nemesis of Jenkins’ life: During the period between the Potsdam Conference and the dropping of the first atomic bomb, I read in the paper one morning that Widmerpool was engaged to Pamela Flitton. . They deserve each other, yet I despair of the results of their collaboration. Templer is an early victim of their machinations

I am overusing spoilers in my current review, but I would still like to mention some of my favorite characters from previous books, and what they end up doing or dying here. A more slick and adept female manipulator than Miss Flytton is ending not only engaged to her male counterpart, but also as one of the top agents at MI5 : Tuffy Weedon dates Sunny Farebrother. She is a widow after her husband, General Conyers, dies in service to his country. Conyers is one of my all time favorites, and his send-up is appropriately respectful:

General Conyers, also an air-raid warden, had collapsed in the street one night, pursuing looters attempting to steal a refrigerator from a bombed house. He died, as he had lived, in active, dramatic, unusual circumstances; such, one felt, as he himself would have preferred.

Widmerpool is not forgotten. His entrances have become more predictable, but his ego and his ambitions grow to monstrous proportions:

I have come to the conclusion that I enjoy power. That is something the war has taught me. In this connexion, it has more than once occured to me that I might like governing ...

>><<>><<>><<

Slowly, painfully, the war grinds its way towards an end. Nick Jenkins’ graduation into the world of Will is a subtle reference to a quote of his Uncle Giles, all the way back into the first volume of the series. Giles used to claim that in this world it is important who you know, not what you are, and Nick applies the principle to the solving of a pressing military crisis. He uses back channels and family connections, bypassing his superior Finn, in order to expedite the movement of a dangerous militia from Belgium to England: “If the worst comes to the worst we can invoke Matilda.” . His newly acquired skills are also on display during a trip to recently liberated Normandy, riding herd on a group of fractious and colourful foreign high officers. Some of the details here are supposed to be autobiographical, inspired directly from the author’s war experience, and the best example I have is the portrait of an unnamed but easily recognizable Field Marshal:

The eyes were deepset and icy cold. You thought at once of an animal, though a creature not at all in the stylized manner of the two colonels at my Divisional Headquarters, reminiscent of the dog-faced and bird-faced Egyptian deities. No such artificial formality shaped these features, and to say, for example, they resembled those of a fox or ferret would be to imply a disparagement not at all sought. Did the features, in fact, suggest some mythical beast, say one of those encountered in ‘Alice in Wonderland’, full of awkward questions and downright statements?

The visit to Normandy serves a second purpose in reaffirming the almost forgotten artistic credentials of Nick Jenkins. For a second time in the current novel, we have open and unambiguous references to Marcel Proust’s magnum opus, “A la recherche du temps perdu”. After a London full quote of a diplomatic ball given by the Duchess of Guermantes, Jenkins is now captivated by the atmosphere of Cabourg, the source of inspiration for Combray, I think.

The final pages of the novel are infused with pathos and truly raise the rating from a high four to a full five star treatment. Friends departed are remembered in an emotional St Paul’s Cathedral service after the victory:

Some are sick and some are sad,
And some have never loved one well,
And some lost the love they had [...]
Fading is the world’s best pleasure.

The return to civilian life after six long years of war, with all the insecurity and the broken ends in need of pick up, the memory of a prewar society probably gone forever, are showcased in a monumental scene in a repurposed exhibition hall, in the fitting company of one of the ballroom butterflies of yesteryear:

We wandered around like men in a dream. As one moved from suits to shoes, shoes to socks, socks back again to suits, the face of a Gunner captain seemed familiar.

The last surprise return of a previous Dancer , Jenkins’ former lover Jean Duport , raises an already high interest I have in next month’s episode, “Books Do Furnish A Room”, my favorite title in the series.

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

The battles thunder far away and the protagonist finds himself in the General Staff, wading through the swamp of military bureaucracy, fighting the war wrapped in red tape…

There could be no doubt, so I was finally forced to decide, that the longer one dealt with them, the more one developed the habit of treating generals like members of the opposite sex; specifically, like ladies no longer young, who therefore deserve extra courtesy and attention; indeed, whose every whim must be given thought. This was particularly applicable if one were out in the open with a general.

Senior officers combat each other and those of subordinate rank and their warfare comprises scheming, conspiring, manipulations, machinations, collusions, trickery, double-dealing, chicanery…
The war is over and those who hadn’t gone missing are awarded – some with medals, some with tombstones.

[Darwin8u · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Engrave no battle on his cheek,
With war I've naught to do,
I'm none of those that took Maestrick,
Nor Yarmouth Leaguer knew.
-- 'Vulcan, contrive me such a cup', John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester



This is the last book in the Fall/WWII trilogy (3rd Movement) of A Dance to the Music of Time. It was at once the saddest of the series so far and also the most Proustian, with several direct quotations from Remembrance of Things Past and also several geographies in common with that other monster of 20th Century fiction.

The book had me hooked from the first couple paragraphs. To me, at least, it resembled (in a less funky and mad way) the opening section of Europe Central? You know the part. The very beginning too. Where, STEEL IN MOTION, with a black telephone/Signal Corps octopus vibrating, ringing, somnambulating, sleepwalking, eavesdropping, gloating as Europe Central buzzes.

See, here from the first couple pages of 'The Military Philosophers':

"from the secret radio Spider, calling and testing in the small hours..."

"Endemic as ghouls in an Arabian cemetery, harassed aggressive shades lingered for ever in such cells to impose on each successive inmate their preoccupations and anxieties, crowding him from floor and bed, invading and distorting dreams. Once in a way a teleprinter would break down, suddenly ceasing to belch forth its broad paper shaft, the column instead crumpling to stop in mid-air like waters of a frozen cataract."

Without giving too much away (meetings are held, rockets scream, people die, but the Allies eventually win) this novel centers on WWII from about 1942 to the end of the war. The war, except for the bombs and the V2 rockets is largely fought elsewhere by other friends. Nick is engaged primarily as a liaison officer (first with the Poles and then with the Belgians, etc.) where he learns how to maneuver through bureaucracy and personalities. Widerpool again (and also Pamela) seem to both act as catalysts whose actions impact heavily the lives around them.

I think it is also worth posting the Nestor poem in full that I (and Powell) borrowed a verse from:

Vulcan, contrive me such a cup,
As Nestor us'd of old;
Show all thy skill to trim it up,
Damask it round with gold.

Make it so large, that, fill'd with sack,
Up to the swelling brim,
Vast toasts on the delicious lake,
Like ships at sea, may swim.

Engrave no battle on his cheek,
With war I've nought to do,
I'm none of those that took Maestrick,
Nor Yarmouth Leaguer knew.

Let it no name of planets tell,
Fix'd stars, or constellations;
For I am no Sir Sidrophel,
Nor none of his relations.

But carve thereon a spreading vine,
Then add two lovely boys;
Their limbs in amorous folds entwine,
The type of future joys.

Cupid and Bacchus my saints are,
May Drink and Love still reign!
With wine I wash away my cares,
And then to love again.

In war time it is always interesting to see the interactions between the soldiers in the field and the POGs* (persons other than grunts). Powell plays with this a bit. Jenkins and Widerpool aren't exactly "safe" but their positions during the war keep them primarily in London. The war is being fought by other men. There is also tension between the above ground and below ground (secret) elements of the war. Again, towards the end of these war trilogies we see clothing used to convey the idea of the war as a play. One costume is exchanged for another as Jenkins is demobbed.

* this was a term I was first introduced to by my little brother who served as a "foot" or a "grunt" with 10th Mountain Division in Afghanistan.

[Manny · Rating 5 out of 5]

Earlier this evening, notgettingenough and I were arguing about Harry Potter. Not, despite having posted a review that has reduced several Potter fans to sputtering incoherence, was perversely taking me to task for my own rather more moderate effort. For about the hundredth time (I sometimes wonder whether we talk about anything else on Goodreads), I said that I'd quite liked the early books, but found the later volumes, and their implacable marketing, almost a direct insult to my intelligence.

"Oh," said Not airily. "The later books in any series are a bit tired."

Not and others: The Military Philosophers is volume nine in Powell, and it's one of the best ones. The book not only has a perfect internal construction, but also slots tightly into the overall arc of the series. We are in the closing stages of World War II; the narrator has been part of the war machine for over five years. In the background, Powell shows you in his wonderfully elliptical, understated way how Nick has become almost a stranger to his wife and young family. The majority of his thoughts are focused on the day-to-day business of being a low-level staff bureaucrat; every now and then, he has a little energy left over to keep his literary persona ticking over. Most of his close friends are dead.

And yet, somehow, the surface tone is light and amusing, and the book can reasonably be described as a comedy. It contains many of my favorite passages, and I particularly love the segment where Nick is in charge of shepherding the delegation of senior foreign officers around newly reconquered France. Chu, the eccentric Chinese colonel, is fascinated with English public schools and wants to go to Eton. "You're too old," explains Nick. "I can make myself young," says Chu stubbornly. Then there is the scene where they are to be billeted in a house that only has one bathroom, and there's a mad scramble for the desirable room. The French general who got there first is gleefully unpacking his bags, when the much lower-ranking Indian officer explains that he has to have it.

"It is my religion," he explains, in an embarrassed but firm tone. The Frenchman looks at him in bewilderment for a moment, then shrugs. "Well," he says, "I am a freethinker. What chance do I have?"

And, at the end, the victory service in Saint Paul's Cathedral, where Nick has to find a seat for Flores, the man who has married Jean, and never suspects that Nick has thought about her every day since they parted several books earlier. Nick solves the little seating crisis and sits down, but is unable to concentrate. He allows himself to realise how unspeakably tired he is.

In the excellent BBC adaptation, the fourth part - books 10, 11 and 12 - starts with Nick being played by a different actor. A bold and risky decision, but absolutely in keeping with the written version.

[Ted · Rating 5 out of 5]

At one stage of the service there had been a disturbance at the back of the church and someone afterwards said she had been sick in the font. Whoever had remarked that had found nothing surprising in unsatisfactory behavior from her. Someone else had commented: ‘That child’s a fiend.’




or, if you prefer,





Takes place: early spring 1942, through August 1945.
Nick Jenkins is in, even past, his mid-30s.
Book published: 1968. Anthony Powell was 62 years old.

Significant series characters bold that appear in the very first novel that visit the narrative (however briefly, dead or alive): Ralph Barnby, St John Clarke, General Conyers, Edgar Deacon, Sir Magnus Donners, Bob Duport, Mrs Erdleigh, Sunny Farebrother, Amy Foxe (Stringham’s mother), Captain Rowland Gwatkin, Isobel (Jenkins’ wife), Lady Molly & Ted Jeavons, Uncle Giles, Gypsy Jones, Chips Lovell, Hugh Moreland, David Pennistone, Sillery, Odo Stevens, Charles Stringham, Jean & Peter Templer, Dr Trelawney, Widmerpool.

Jenkins’ nine siblings-in-law – (the Tollands) – are mostly absent from the narrative here, with only George, Norah and Priscilla finding mention.

The main characters (as I reckon), in some order – David Pennistone, Widmerpool, Sunny Farebrother, Peter Templar, Odo Stevens, Major Kucherman, Charles Stringham, Sir Magnus Donners, and Isobel. It’s left to the reader (of this review) to decide which end of the list is the “most” and which the “least”.

Major Kucherman has not appeared in the series before, and will not appear again. But as a military philosopher (and more so as “a well-known international figure”) Kucherman plays an interesting role in Powell’s fictional wrap up of the war.

I’ve left one name off the main character list, which name should be placed at the “most” end. In the first chapter a young woman, driver for the philosophes and other ranks working around Whitehall, conveys Jenkins to a destination.

After a few minutes beside her, it was clear this AT possessed in a high degree that power which all women – some men – command to a greater or lesser extent when in the mood, of projecting round them a sense of vast resentment. The girl driving, I noticed, was able to do this with quite superlative effect. Her rankling animosity against the world in general was discharged with adamantine force, comparable with Audrey Maclintick … or Anne Stepney … However, those two, although not without their admirers, were hardly in the same class as this girl when it came to looks … She was very striking.

The driver, barely muttering a word for some minutes, suddenly speaks.

‘You’re Captain Jenkins, aren’t you?’
‘I am.’
‘I think you know my mother.’
‘What’s your mother’s name?’
‘Flavia Wisebite – but I’m Pamela Flitton. My father was her first husband.’
This was Stringham’s niece. I remembered her holding the bride’s train at his wedding. She must have been five or six years old then.

Then follows Jenkins’ memory which is quoted at the review’s inception above.

Thus does Powell, after introducing the five- or six-year-old bridesmaid in Buyer’s Market (written sixteen years earlier), resurrect her as a major character in this novel, and for the rest of the series. Now in this chapter (1942) she would be twenty or twenty-one years old.

Several days prior, when Jenkins had first seen this driver, he had reflected,

Very young, she was one of those girls with a dead white complexion and black hair, the only coloring capable of rising above the boundlessly unbecoming hue of khaki. Instead of the usual ATS tunic imposed by some higher authority anxious that the Corps should look, if not as masculine as possible, at least as Sapphic, she had managed to provide herself, as some did, with soldier’s battledress, paradoxically more adapted to the female figure.

Well, enough of Pamela. Further exploration of the young woman’s character and adventures will no doubt be of interest to the reader of this book.


- - - - - -

At one point during the read, when Jenkins and others are attending a performance of The Bartered Bride, I reflected, "the narrative demonstrates that even in a horrendous war, if one is not on the front lines fighting, life goes on in ways that are only marginally affected by the overall conflict – even if one is actually a member of the armed forces. The background levels of concern, tragedy, and worry are, however, understandably amplified; and the psychological elements can have severe personal effects even in the rear of the action."


The Philosophers

Who are these “philosophers” of whom Powell here writes? There are a very few tempting uses of the word, but to me these seemed to be red herrings, leading nowhere really. David Pennistone, whose assistant Jenkins becomes in these years, does have his philosophical connections, mentioned in Invitation to the Dance.

… expounds Alfred de Vigny’s military philosophy to Jenkins … [and is writing] “something awfully boring about Descartes” … Likes thinking about things. Vague on dates and places … brilliant on explaining the philosophic niceties or the minutiae of office dialectic.

I think we need recourse to a more vague notion of a philosopher, perhaps as a person “calm and rational under any circumstances”, one who is more likely to excel in thinking things through, rather than in taking decisive action (beyond issuing orders).

In a theme which ties in with that of the previous volume, Powell ventures that those who place themselves in personal danger become both the heroes and the casualties. The philosopher kings, who ultimately direct the enterprise from their Whitehall bastions (both above and below ground) bear the responsibility, and in the long view probably get the credit (or blame), for the outcome.

[Nigeyb · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Military Philosophers (1968) is the ninth of Anthony Powell's twelve-novel sequence A Dance to the Music of Time.

Immediately preceded by The Valley of Bones (1964) and The Soldier's Art (1966), The Military Philosophers (1968) concludes the three books which cover the World War 2 years. These three books are right up there with Evelyn Waugh's Sword of Honour trilogy.

In this volume, narrator Nick is now working for Allied Liaison, as Pennistone's assistant under Lieutenant Colonel Finn, responsible for relationships with Allied and neutral military missions in London which revealed an aspect of World War 2 that I had never really considered before and which also heralds the introduction of many new characters.

In addition to the new characters, we also encounter many familiar characters from previous volumes, and The Military Philosophers contains dramatic new developments for many of them.

Despite the inevitable and predictable tragedies that result from the war years, the book also contains some splendid humour, not least the marvellous description of uber-bureaucrat Mr Blackhead, and his superlative bureaucratic obstructionism. What a delight. I had to read the pages aloud to savour every nuance.

Perhaps the most interesting new character is Pamela Flitton, the niece of Charles Stringham, who is the ultimate femme fatale and who makes some fascinating liaisons throughout the book and is responsible for many of the book's most memorable moments.

The books ends with a victory service at St. Paul's cathedral, to mark the end of the War, shortly after which Nick Jenkins is demobbed.

As with every other book in the A Dance to the Music of Time series, The Military Philosophers is beautifully written and a multi-faceted story that both delights and intrigues.

5/5

[Tim · Rating 4 out of 5]

I bought this in a charity shop without realising it was part of an epic series of books. It's a fictionalised first hand account of the war years in London. The narrator is a liaison officer working with Britain's allies, first the Poles then the Belgians. There are some fascinating details - for example that the lake in St James' Park was emptied so as not to make the area easy to identify for German bombers. No novelist has included that detail. I can ever recall a couple of characters in novels who walk through St James' Park with no mention there's no water in the lake. A lot of the novel though was lost to me because of its focus on characters I didn't know from previous novels. There were some wonderful passages. I especially enjoyed a comic character called Widmerpool. Powell writes very well. I'm almost tempted to read the entire saga but not quite.

[Connie G · Rating 4 out of 5]

The ninth volume of the series, The Military Philosophers, is set during 1942-45. Nick Jenkins is working as a military liaison to a Polish Allied contingent stationed in London. Nick's job is mainly administrative. There are humorous moments as he deals with Mr Blackhead, one of the worst paper pushers imaginable, who generates mounds of red tape.

The dreadful Kenneth Widmerpool appears again, moving up the military ladder. He gets involved with Pamela Flitton, a beautiful but angry woman. It's hard to decide which of them is the more obnoxious and narcissistic.

Nick acts mainly as an observer, and we learn about characters from previous books who died in the London Blitz or on the battlefield. The book ends with a General Thanksgiving Service at St Paul's Cathedral, and Nick's demobilization from the army. The mood in the country seems to be one of exhaustion, rather than elation, as everyone emotionally deals with such a great loss of life.

[Diane Barnes · Rating 4 out of 5]

With this volume, WWII is over. Nick and his friends and family, (the ones still alive) can carry on. Six years of war, and the country is tired. I can feel the exhaustion as well, and am ready for the final 3 installments of this excellent series.

[Ian · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can't speak highly enough of Powell's ninth instalment of his Dance to the Music of Time. Jenkins (now Major) sees out the war in liaison with Allies, be they Poles or Czechs or Belgians, even venturing out to France with a party of them to check on the progress towards Berlin. Widmerpool finds power and love, but not necessarily in the same place and past ghosts reappear in the forms of old loves and cuckolded husbands. The humour is first-rate (Pennistone's acerbic comment on an over-detailed minute from an obfuscating pen-pusher, "Please amplify", will certainly make its way into my working life), the writing is as casually elegant as always and the sense of tiredness and lack of triumphalism at the St. Paul's Victory service is conveyed with serene brilliance. I dread and yet keenly anticipate what peace time will bring.

[Eleanor · Rating 4 out of 5]

This wonderful work continues to delight. As is inevitable in war, there are more casualties among Nick's friends. But there are still hilarious moments as he comes up against bureaucracy in full cry. Blackhead is a notorious pedant whose minutes "have the abstract quality of pure extension". One splendid example of "three and a half pages on the theory and practice of soap issues for military personnel, with especial reference to the Polish Women's Corps" was hilariously inscribed by Nick's boss "Please amplify."

The reader can imagine Powell treasuring such experiences for later use in his brilliant books. This volume ends with Nick's demobilisation at the end of the war. I look forward to reading the last three volumes as he deals with postwar Britain.

[Hibou le Literature Supporter · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pamela Flitton. Still 3 more books to go, but she is one of DANCE's most memorable characters. Perhaps, second to Widmerpool. As World War II progresses toward Allied victory, we follow Nick's rise up the military ranks -- his level of ambition, I found, to be very relatable. One of the themes is the idea that certain personalities that fare well in military bureaucracy would not do as well in civil society. As mentioned in my reviews of prior books, I simply love how characters return, having aged, married, divorced, moved on philosophically, and always full of stories about other characters.

[Katie Lumsden · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this novel, though it's possibly not my favourite in the series. Such a great read regardless.

[Steve · Rating 2 out of 5]

Alas, I'm guessing this one was my least favorite installment in the series (to date), and it's hard to put my finger on why ... but this one simply didn't speak to me. If I hadn't bought in fully - and become interested in and engaged with the protagonist/narrator and the ever-evolving cast of characters that orbit and animate his life journey - over the prior eight books, this one easily could have been my last.

I concede I'm somewhat intrigued that others particularly enjoyed this one. My sense is that, as was the case with the last couple of installments, I simply haven't been enamored, compelled, or, hmm, convinced or persuaded by Powell's military. Maybe I can't divorce my own biases about the military or maybe I've read too much military history or too many martial memoirs ... or too much historical fiction or one parody too many or.... I dunno. But, overall, I felt like I was turning pages more than enjoying this.

Still, having now completed three quarters of the whole, and turning onto the home stretch, with only three books remaining, I expect I'll give myself a little space and time to let go of this one, remind myself how much, overall, I've been enamored with the enterprise, and then turn to the next book. At this point, I can't image hearing the final notes that signify the conclusion of the dance.

[Laura · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the ninth of twelve-novel sequence A Dance to the Music of Time.

First published in 1968, it covers the latter part of Nicholas Jenkins' service in World War II. It depicts, with ironic detachment, a little-chronicled byway of the war effort, Allied Liaison.

4* A Question of Upbringing (A Dance to the Music of Time, #1)
4* A Buyer's Market (A Dance to the Music of Time #2)
4* The Acceptance World (A Dance to the Music of Time, #3)
4* At Lady Molly's (A Dance to the Music of Time, #4)
4* Casanova's Chinese Restaurant (A Dance to the Music of Time, #5)
4* The Kindly Ones (A Dance to the Music of Time, #6)
4* The Valley of Bones (A Dance to the Music of Time, #7)
4* The Soldier's Art (A Dance to the Music of Time, #8)
4* The Military Philosophers (A Dance to the Music of Time, #9)
TR Books Do Furnish a Room (A Dance to the Music of Time, #10)
TR Temporary Kings (A Dance to the Music of Time, #11)
TR Hearing Secret Harmonies (A Dance to the Music of Time, #12)

[Renee M · Rating 5 out of 5]

What strikes me about the three books in this section of Dance to the Music of Time, is how understated they are. And how powerful that understatement can be in deft hands. We know we are at war and yet most of the conversations are so darned pedestrian. The frustrations, red tape, personality conflicts, day to day choices of living and interacting. Then, wham, something happens that puts it all into the stark relief of impending death. And even that is understated... Which somehow makes it so real it chokes you. Even the events of this installment pack a punch. A very isn't-it-all-so-human punch as Nick maneuvers through the post-war days, sorting through the pieces that remain and resurface.

[Hester · Rating 4 out of 5]

Last of the war trilogy within Dance to the Music of Time and , true to form , the war and its terrors is mainly " noises off" as Nick Jenkins finds himself serving as a sort of military /.political butler to a hotch potch of exiled but friendly politicians , businessmen and officers . First his brief is Poland then Czechoslovakia and Belgium.

I can't think of another series of wartime novels with male protagonists where the terrible immediacy of war hardly features . Life in London is drab , punctuated by air raids , but he runs into enough characters from past novels to keep his mood up and there's a new femme fatale , Pamela Fitton , who promises much with her outrageous rudeness , sullen beauty and undisguised ambition . Of course we do lose a couple of important lynchpins to the horrors of war . I wonder if this will set Nick adrift ?

[Arukiyomi · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not my favourite in the series by any means, this volume charts the end of the war and Nick’s subsequent demobbing.

The writing carries on in its normal vein with the usual insight into a whole host of characters excepting the narrator himself. Widmerpool features heavily of course and a certain romantic attachment gets more focus than usual. There are however lots of passages dealing with the all to unfascinating intricacies of Allied administration. These bored the pants off me.

To liven things up, there’s an air raid seen from the roof of a block of flats with a nice range of characters responding to it including the apocalyptic Mrs Erdleigh.

I doubt anyone would mark this as the most readable of the lot, but it is significant in introducing Pamela Flitton who plays a significant and certainly dramatic role as the book nears its terminus.

[Greg · Rating 3 out of 5]

Of the twelve volumes, this was the toughest one for me, as we've lost some characters during WW2 and England has been devastated again by this second war of the 20th century. Still, Powell's writing is powerful while communicating pain.

[Lars Guthrie · Rating 2 out of 5]

Least favorite of 'Dance to the Music of Time,' and I hope this one is not an indication of where the last three volumes are going. This one centers on the winding down of WWII, and narrator Nick Jenkins' job in Allied Liason in London. That means the reader meets a lot of European middle ranking military attaches who are hard to keep track of, and whom I found uninteresting. Although Widmerpool makes his necessary and, as always, entertaining appearance, no other familiar characters are around much. The most intriguing new character, Pamela Flitton, just flits in and out of the action. And, as if he wanted a break, Powell uses up more than a page quoting Proust.

[Jeremy Silverman · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've briefly commented on several of the books in this series of twelve that constitute one grand epic. I have just completed this ninth novel. With each one, the overall power of the experience increases. Powell's portrait of life in England (with admittedly a tilt toward the affluent) gives us not just a full three dimensional view of that social world, but as the overall title of the series suggests, he adds a fourth dimension, time, showing us how that world changed across the '20s, '30s, and in this Third Movement, during the Second World War.

I'm giving this novel five stars, whereas I rated the 8 earlier novels at four stars. It's not so much that this one is markedly better in itself, but that, as noted, the effect of the whole grows. I may have to go back and revise my earlier ratings upwards. It's a case much like some single masterpiece that requires time and experience before its greatness is fully evident to the reader.

[Illiterate · Rating 3 out of 5]

War brings death, political intrigue, moral compromise, exhaustion. So, Powell's tone, despite comic moments, is sadness for lost friends, hopes, ideals, years.

[Catullus2 · Rating 4 out of 5]

More war, more war until finally the allies win. Pamela Flitton slices her way through the men of London.

[Jason · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have not read a lot of books about World War II, either fiction of non-fiction, and didn’t know what to expect heading into the three-part section of Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time that dealt with the war years. The novels up to book VII, which begins Britain’s involvement in the war, while ranging near and far in Nick’s travels into manhood, were mostly in the style of novels of manners, so I was interested to see if we were thrown into the thick of battle or if the style persisted.

Given that Nick and his friends were deep in their thirties when the war began, they were not placed anywhere on the front lines. In fact, Nick worried about how he could enlist quickly given the handicap of his age. Nick did manage to enlist, and after working in different posts in England through books VII and VIII came into the lasting position of his military career in Book IX, that of managing the attaches from first Poland and then Norway and Belgium. These final positions had him stationed in London.

As a result of these matters, Powell is able to maintain his tone and style even as the war rages on in the form of blitzes and the reports of those who have fallen. Not only does it suit Powell’s style, but it’s also a fascinating way to recount the war. Of these last three books, the second one, The Soldier’s Art, was to me the most enjoyable because we spent the most time with characters we had been following before the war broke out. But this latest book, book IX, The Military Philosophers, was the most interesting from an historical perspective. So little time can be devoted to the war in our history classes that we really only get the highlights of the big moments in the war. I had never even given thought to the political relationship between the greater powers and those of the smaller countries on the side of the Allies. Powell’s focus is always on the movement of time and people, so he does not spend a lot of time uncovering the lives and political nuances of the situation, and while his coverage is sufficient to let us know the general ins and outs of Nick’s life, I found the quick skim over the surface of things made it difficult to really submerge myself in the fiction. Because we weren’t diving down, I found myself becoming impatient and wanting to rush through the chapters to find an encounter in which we could spend some time.

It can be tempting to rush through what seems like humdrum material in Powell’s books, and I needed constantly to remind myself to slow down for two reasons. First, the prose is so beautifully constructed that it would be a waste to blow past the sentences in search of a chapter. Second, Powell is writing something that is much larger than any one book, attempting to capture the very motions and patterns of life as we live it, which means things that are humdrum today can prove to be critical tomorrow. Powell is not interested in wasting anyone’s time, least of all his own, and I have to believe that what is laid out for us here is important not only at the moment but also down the line.

Powell shows his power as an author most readily in his concluding chapters. The final chapter of The Military Philosophers is not only the final chapter of this one book, but the final chapter of this trilogy on World War II. The war’s ending is celebrated and the lives that wereonce pulled together begin once again to separate, and Powell takes his time beautifully gathering each thread and placing them together, revisiting once forgotten moments as Nick sorts his thoughts out about the last five years of his life. It was a fantastic ending to three enjoyable, though at times tedious, books.

[Tom Ewing · Rating 3 out of 5]

By all accounts the Dance's most autobiographical volume yet, The Military Philosophers' concludes the series bureaucratic engagement with World War II (and with military-cum-office life), chronicling Nick Jenkins' work with Allied Liaison - a parade of Poles, Czechs, Belgians and Brazilians who flit in and out of the book. If I'm honest, it makes for the least enjoyable volume so far, as the turnover of bit parts - hectic even for ADTTMOT, however entertaining they are - coincides with a slight furring of the arteries of Powell's prose, and makes the book more indigestible than usual. Nine books along and he's in confident mode, indulgent even, tackling the comparison to Proust head-on (Free French officer Kerneval gives voice to Powell's and Proust's critics here). Combined with the autobiographical elements and the usual share of Powellian coincidences, and it's an odd mix - the novel where the novelistic nature of Dance is most flimsy, but most directly addressed.

Indulgent it may be, but the novel isn't unfocussed - a lot of its time is spent on establishing obviously major character Pamela Flitton, a second pole of awfulness in the books after the by now titanically loathsome Widmerpool. At this stage I'm not quite convinced by Flitton, though her "cosmic rage" is terrific for moving the plot along (even if the plot it does move along is kept typically and enjoyably offstage). Like Widmerpool, she feels like a combination of traits Powell despises - this time in women, not in men - but with Widmerpool the mixture achieves an odd alchemy that makes the result seem entirely likely and fresh. Flitton, in comparison, simply seems like a femme fatale, her attractiveness for all the men in the novel something like a super-power.

Stressing the problems I had with the book makes it sound unenjoyable. It wasn't at all, and parts are magnificent: particularly the gradual sense of the war loosening its grip on London and its people, and the feeling of quiet relief, pride and exhaustion accompanying it. The sequence set in liberated France is one of the best in the whole series, and whatever its status in the Dance as a whole, The Military Philosophers is a fine, even moving, conclusion to the wartime trilogy.

[gwayle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some gems:
--The scene where Nick dreads Stevens' impeding show of fake grief--so true;
--Astrology! (Nick is a Sagittarius; Stevens is a run-roughshod Aries; and the newly introduced vixen Pamela Flitton is, of course, a Scorpio.);
--A reference to my favorite painter, James Ensor!;
--Generals as fussy old ladies--LOL!

There could be no doubt, so I was finally forced to decide, that the longer one dealt with them, the more one developed the habit of treating generals like members of the opposite sex; specifically, like ladies no longer young, who therefore deserve extra courtesy and attention; indeed, whose every whim must be given thought. This was particularly applicable if one were out in the open with a general.
'Come on, sir, you have the last sandwich,' one would say, or 'Sit on my mackintosh, sir, the grass is quite wet.';

--Nick's dull military task is imbued with magic when he realizes that he was just at the "Balbec" hotel of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past.

Not as seamlessly absorbing as its immediate predecessor (though perhaps reading two in a row--how indulgent!--spoils one) but wonderful nonetheless.

I live for references to Uncle Giles.

How long, do you want to bet, before the mysterious Szymanski reemerges in our Dance?

Hats off, Mr. Powell.

[Corey · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am now 3/4 of the way through Anthony Powell's magisterial 12-novel cycle, Dance to the Music of Time. It's delicious stuff and, I think, on a par with the greatest novels of the 20th century, Joyce's Ulysses, Kafka's The Trial, Camus' The Stranger, Mann's Buddenbrooks, Woolf's To the Lighthouse, Roth's Call it Sleep, Graham Greene's oeuvre etc.

[Deanne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reached the end of the war, and still this series rolls on. Can't stand Widmerpool and hope to see him come crashing down.

[Barbara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Finally getting back to A Dance after quite a break. Still loving the series. There was a section on Proust which I particularly enjoyed, since I've been reading A la recherche this year.

[Martin Jones · Rating 5 out of 5]

The ninth book of Anthony Powell’s twelve volume A Dance To The Music Of Time series, The Military Philosophers sees Nick Jenkins, former writer and critic, settled in his World War Two army career. After serving as a junior infantry officer, he transfers to military liaison, helping smooth relations between Britain and its various allies.

A Dance To The Music Of Time has generally been about the peculiar patterns that emerge as time makes its apparently aimless, sometimes chaotic, progress. In this wartime period, life is both more rigid - dominated by uniforms, military regulation, limitation of movements and freedom - and yet more uncertain. From this basic irony arises all the complexity of this remarkable novel. With an apparently humble role in Whitehall, Nick’s quiet observations now reach through to the heart of government - a good place to look at the relationship of order and disorder. There are civil servants who spend their lives fettling tiny details, while other more flamboyant figures take reckless risks. Nick follows a middle path as usual, his military rank a middling one, his approach to risk and caution, discipline and rebelliousness, a lesson in compromise. Sometimes this half-way house seems a place where personal power is at its most limited. The previous volume had described Nick’s efforts to look after those below him in rank. In The Military Philosophers, it’s the generals who require attention to their every whim. Nick reminded me of someone at that time of life when you are still looking after children, while also finding it increasingly necessary to care for ageing parents.

However, towards the end of the book, Nick has a moment of unexpected power. With the war almost over, volatile young men in the Belgian resistance, until this point fighting their common German enemy, show signs of falling out amongst themselves. It is thought vital to evacuate these men to Britain where they can receive army training. Getting this to happen quickly seems a hopeless task. But Nick’s intermediate position means he knows lots of people. Not isolated by exalted or humble rank, he links everything up - a liaison officer in more ways than one. It’s just a matter of talking to a few friends who can make a difference; and within days, against all the laws of bureaucratic inertia, those twitchy young Belgians are shipped off for their training. Now the middle, buffeted by demands from all sides, becomes the most powerful place to be. Nick single-handedly prevents civil war in Belgium. But it’s best not to bring any attention to these actions, which certainly failed to follow the usual stodgy chains of command. Rather than making a big thing of his success, Nick just quietly gets on with arrangements for looking after representatives of allied nations at a thanksgiving service to mark the war’s end.

This service, in St Paul’s Cathedral, brings together people from many nations and stations of life. It’s an event that really gives focus to the sense that whether you are a great leader, humble follower, or someone in-between, there is always a chance to play your part in events that often seem to have a life of their own. This coincides with a feeling in The Military Philosophers that a person’s eminence, or lack of it, is as much down to luck as anything else. Some people win awards for bravery, some are given awards for political reasons, while the bravery of others happens unacknowledged and out of sight. Everyone, in one way or another, has a place at the service of thanksgiving, celebrating the achievement of getting through the war. This scene serves as a fitting end to a fascinating and humane book.