The construction of an important element in British national identity is explored in Naval Engagements, looking at the ways in which the navy - a major symbol of national community - was given meaning by a range of social groupings. The study is at once a cultural history of national identity, a social history of naval commemoration, and a political history of struggles over patriotism.
Examining the place that naval symbols occupied in British wartime political culture, Timothy Jenks argues that these were more relevant to patriotic discourse than the more commonly explored 'apotheosis' of the Hanoverian monarchs. He establishes the centrality of public images of admirals to the 'victory culture' and political experience of the day, tracing efforts by groups across the political spectrum to invest these figures with appropriate political capital and contemporary meaning. He engages with arguments concerning popular patriotism and the relative cohesiveness of British society. Most importantly, the book establishes the centrality of naval symbolism to the political culture of Georgian Britain. At the same time, it reveals the social practices and discourses that consistently interacted to delimit and restrain a variety of projects ostensibly designed to foster patriotism and national identity.
Patriotism was contested, this study argues, rather than consensual, and British national identity in the period was contingent, an ambivalence crucial to the manner in which naval symbols functioned.
Ordinarily in a book review, I would tell you the good bits now, or perhaps start with an anecdote. I will tell you that I worked very hard to obtain a copy of this book, which is very highly priced on Amazon. (I paid significantly less. Significantly.)
I will say that there were two sections that I found very interesting, and they were at the very beginning and very end of the book (the mid-game...lagged.)
In a nutshell, NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS is about how the navy was used and abused for political gain by various levels of society in the Napoleonic wars. It's not a military history, but it's about things like how victories were perceived by Conservatives and Whigs/Radicals. It's also about how various strata of society were included or excluded from celebrations of naval events.
If you are interested in a take on Lord Cochrane's parliamentary career, this was fabulous. Seriously. I learned a lot, even if the author took Cochrane's autobiography as gospel instead of propaganda.
If you want to read about the glorification of Lord Nelson socially without mentioning he was cut by the King due to the way Nelson treated his wife as a result of his affair with Emma Hamilton, this is also for you.
If you are interested in a book that uses the word "naumachia" a million times, this is also the book for you. (Naumachia is putting on naval shows with miniature boats--basically, playing in the bathtub for rich people.) Or the use of "embourgoisilfication." I can't imagine a reason anyone besides, I don't know, Marx, needs to use this word, but it was fun to type out.
The big crimes, though, are these:
1. I don't know what the (award winning) professor Linda Colley did to piss off Timothy Jenks, but if I were Professor Colley, I'd consider a restraining order. There is little I find more distasteful in a work of military-ish history than when a (male) author rakes a (female) author over the coals, again and again, but without treating other (male) historians viciously. (I find it distasteful when historians of any gender drag each other through the mud by name, period, but in a field that has been dominated by men, it's even more crass.) Here's how a polite person would handle it: "A number of historians have argued" or "One school of thought, which has predominated, is that..." or whatever.
Basically, when you're writing and you don't agree with another historian or need to refute the historian, do it in a way where you won't be a dick. If you're concerned you might look like a dick, edit appropriately. This is an OUP fail.
(Also, if you're going to criticize another historian for taking a source at face value, don't take other sources at face value.)
2. I'm a lawyer. While f*ck is arguably my favorite word, I do, in fact, know big words and I'm used to reading dense material full of terms of art. It's a sacrifice I make for the public good. So is the fact I don't try to show off.
The best writing advice I ever received was from an attorney who said (when I was complaining about a legal document I was working on) is that my job is to write a brief that will make it as easy as possible for the court to agree with me. When you have the court adopt your argument in an opinion, almost word for word, you know you've succeeded. (That's not plagiarism in our field, by the way. Just winning.) That attorney's advice has colored everything--everything!--I have written since. Everything you write should be done in such a way to make it as easy as possible for the reader to agree with you. Try it. It works. Showing off vocabulary? Not so much. And this is coming from a woman who was told (at 19) to "please stop using so many big words at work, because you're making the other employees feel inadequate." (No, really, that happened. I still think it's funny.)
It is Mr. Jenks's bad luck that I was reading his book at the same time I was reading essays by Page Smith.
Here's Jenks:
"The polysemic nature of the Grand Jubilee was a consequence of the deeper dynamic discernible in its organization, the desire to construct the event as a political victory for conservative forces."
and
"Contrary to the suggestions of Russell, coherent critical perspectives on performance were not at the root of contemporaries' objections."
Riiiight. I'll translate. 1) "Conservatives viewed the Grand Jubilee as a political victory, although not for the same reasons." 2) "At the time, criticisms weren't based on performance." These aren't exact, but that's what footnotes are for. Also, the nuances the big words add aren't terribly important.
At this point, I needed a break, so I picked up Page Smith (since it was also in my bag while I was waiting for my daughter's aikido class to start). The next essay up in Smith's book was "The Inhuman Humanities" from 1983. It begins:
"If patriotism is the last resort of scoundrels, it may be that the dictionary is the first recourse of a historian who has the uneasy sense that he may have bitten off more than he can chew." (Dissenting Opinions, p. 108).
You just can't PLAN that sort of thing.
There is valuable material here, and with heavy editing, it would be a good resource. If there'd been heavy editing, there would have been room for more detailed analysis (for example, there are are offhand references to events which aren't explained and might have been helpful for context). If you get your hands on a copy, just be aware that you will need your Hunters to wade through the sententious verbiage.
Subject matter was really up my alley, but I struggled badly with the density of the language. An excellent book if written in more approachable English. It made me feel dumb a lot and I wonder if anybody not listed in the bibliography really understands it.
I like the subject but the execution was disappointing. The prose was too dense and the assumed knowledge too great to penetrate. The author knows the material, but conveying it effectively is another matter.