The Complete Aubrey/Maturin Novels

by Patrick O'Brian

Patrick O’Brian’s twenty-one-volume Aubrey/Maturin series has delighted generations of devoted fans, inspired a blockbuster film, and sold millions of copies in twenty-four languages.
These five omnibus volumes, beautifully produced and boxed, contain 7,000 pages of what has often been described as a single, continuous narrative. They are a perfect tribute for such a literary achievement, and a perfect gift for the O’Brian enthusiast.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical, Adventure, Nautical, Literature, Classics

6576 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1994

About the author

Patrick O'Brian's acclaimed Aubrey-Maturin series of historical novels has been described as "a masterpiece" (David Mamet, New York Times), "addictively readable" (Patrick T. Reardon, Chicago Tribune), and "the best historical novels ever written" (Richard Snow, New York Times Book Review), which "should have been on those lists of the greatest novels of the 20th century" (George Will).

Set in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars, O'Brian's twenty-volume series centers on the enduring friendship between naval officer Jack Aubrey and physician (and spy) Stephen Maturin. The Far Side of the World, the tenth book in the series, was adapted into a 2003 film directed by Peter Weir and starring Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany. The film was nominated for ten Oscars, including Best Picture. The books are now available in hardcover, paperback, and e-book format.

In addition to the Aubrey-Maturin novels, Patrick O'Brian wrote several books including the novels Testimonies, The Golden Ocean, and The Unknown Shore, as well as biographies of Joseph Banks and Picasso. He translated many works from French into English, among them the novels and memoirs of Simone de Beauvoir, the first volume of Jean Lacouture's biography of Charles de Gaulle, and famed fugitive Henri Cherriere's memoir Papillon. O'Brian died in January 2000.

The Aubrey-Maturin Series on Goodreads

Reviews

[Brad · Rating 5 out of 5]

I took up a writing about reading challenge recently, and I ran into a question asking, "What is your favourite series?" I'd have thought this was an easy topic to write about. How man good series can there be? Turns out quite a few.

My first thought was to pick one of the many excellent fantasy series (Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, Earthsea Cycle, etc.), or one of the lesser but entertaining series in the same genre (Dragonlance, Narnia, Conan, etc.). But then I remembered that The Three Musketeers was part one of a five part series. Which made me remember that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories, shorts and novels, constitute a pretty serious series. Which made me remember my beloved Hardy Boys and Encyclopedia Brown books from my childhood. And this path into mysteries reminded me that I love Henning Mankell's Wallander books, and Steig Larsson's Millenium books, and Caleb Carr's Kreizler books.

And that's before I even considered the looser, less confined series, like China Miéville's Bas-Lag books, Iain M. Banks' Culture novels and Ursula K. LeGuin's Hainish Cycle. Myriad choices.

Yet with all this choice, and all these series that I love (and more than a few that I've left unmentioned), there really is only one choice for me -- Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin books -- so it turns out to be an easy question after all.

O'Brian wrote twenty books in the series, and died in the middle stages of his twenty-first. Twenty books about two men: Captain Jack Aubrey, the big, brash, reluctantly bellicose Captain of many ships (but most often the HMS Surprise), and his best friend, Dr. Stephen Maturin, the half-Irish/half-Catalan natural philosopher with a talent for espionage and a dangerous temper. We get to know their characters in ways and depths that I've never experienced anywhere else, and O'Brian never strikes a false note. Not once. Everything his men do are exactly what these men would do and when they would do it and how and why. We get to know all the people they love, all the people they hate, all the things they believe in, but most of all we get to see two men love each other over decades. Two men for whom the most important person in the world is the other.

We see Jack save Stephen from torture at the hands of the French, and carry his best friend with the delicacy of a father carrying a newborn, fighting back his sorrow because he must remain a Captain in charge. We see Stephen buy Jack a ship when Jack's been ignominiously drummed out of the service, and somehow he manages to give the gift without wounding his friend's pride.

I came to this series quite late, just before my twins were born eight years ago, and already I am back to book five in my reread (though much slower this time than last). Meanwhile, I am listening to the original book, Master and Commander, with my son whenever we get a chance to sneak into my office, all wood panelled and candle-lit (like a small cabin on the Surprise herself), and lose ourselves in the earliest meetings of Aubrey and Maturin. I've even passed these books onto my non-reading father (despite our longstanding problems), and even he has become a fan (no surprise, really, considering his nautical background).

For sheer comfort there is no series like Aubrey/Maturin. I love spending time with them. I love the action when it comes; I love the women they love; I love the intrigue and political machinations and way the wind and the sea make them the most themselves. More authors need to dedicate themselves to characters the way O'Brian dedicated himself to his men (not to plots and tales, but to the characters themselves). The literary world would be a much richer place.

[Michaele · Rating 5 out of 5]

Yes, it's true; I have read the entire 20-book Aubrey/Maturin series, not once but five times. My husband refers to these sessions as my summers at sea. The series, including the 21st book usually not included in the sets, is far and away the best novel--because all the books comprise a single novel-- in the English language, as far as I'm concerned. Fortunately, the scope of the series is so immense that it can stand re-reading again and again, each time with new delight.

[Darwin8u · Rating 5 out of 5]

Volume 1:
1. Master and Commander - June 29, 2016
2. Post Captain - July 16, 2016
3. H.M.S. Surprise - August 16, 2016
4. The Mauritius Command - December 19, 2016

Volume 2:
5. Desolation Island - February 13, 2017
6. The Fortune of War - February 16, 2017
7. The Surgeon's Mate - March 5, 2017
8. The Ionian Mission - March 14, 2017

Volume 3:
9. Treason's Harbour - April 18, 2017
10. The Far Side of the World - May 2, 2017
11. The Reverse of the Medal - May 10, 2017
12. The Letter of Marque - May 23, 2017

Volume 4:
13. The Thirteen-Gun Salute - July 26, 2017
14. The Nutmeg of Consolation - September 28, 2017
15. The Truelove - October 18, 2017
16. The Wine-Dark Sea - October 26, 2017

Volume 5:
17. The Commodore - November 15, 2017
18. The Yellow Admiral - November 28, 2017
19. The Hundred Days
20. Blue at the Mizzen
21. 21 (Unfinished Novel)

[Paul H. · Rating 5 out of 5]

So let’s say that Jane Austen finished Persuasion – we finally get a proper ending! – and then she sat down with Cassandra and said, look, here’s the plan: I’m going to spend the next four decades writing a 7,000-page novel about the lives of two sisters, loosely based on us, as they experience travels, romance, adventures . . .

And then let's also say that Austen's writing improves over the years (and why not!), she moves to London, experiences more of the world, meets other authors, and then proceeds to write, in 21 installments, an extremely impressive 2.2-million-word novel that is both a commentary on her era and an incredibly moving character study of two people experiencing the ups and downs of life together, where this also follows a broader cast of characters, a series of families, over the course of three decades.

But now imagine that this author was not Jane Austen, but rather Jane Austen’s brother, Francis Austen – a talented author in his own right who, oddly enough, ended up becoming admiral of the fleet of the British Royal Navy – who spent four decades writing a 7,000-page novel based on his life in the Royal Navy, but with all the depth and characterization of Jane's work. An Austen-style novel but from a 'masculine' perspective, which covers more of the range of human experience and human nature, battles, etc.; sounds pretty good!

Anyway neither of those things happened. However—


* * *

Are we stuck in artistic historicity, or can we just ignore the weight of history? People say that you can't paint like the Old Masters now, that somehow this would be inauthentic. But would it? Or take a composer like Arvo Pärt: he makes classical music without feeling compelled to ‘dialogue’ with Cage and Stockhausen or other tedious postmodern composers. It turns out you can just wake up in the morning, ignore all the theorists, and compose beautiful music.

David Foster Wallace thought that his generation had to create a third wave of postmodernism that combined the vibes of DeLillo/Pynchon with sincerity/emotion, etc. . . . but maybe you can just write sincere, lyrical novels without having to worry about DeLillo at all. Maybe it isn’t actually ‘bourgeois’ or ‘inauthentic’ to do so! Who is the referee here? Of all intellectual and cultural movements, postmodernism is the one that supposedly has some sort of authority or metanarrative that we must follow?

Similarly, many present-day philosophers seem to have assumed or 'accepted' that Kant has stopped the possibility of traditional metaphysical speculation: but has he? Says who? I assure you, reader, that you can just keep doing metaphysics: Kant had not read any pre-modern philosophers (his denuded understanding of classical metaphysics is borrowed from Wolff) and he often has no clue what he's talking about.

We read in Matthew Arnold’s essay on Flaubert: "Sainte-Beuve observed that in Flaubert we come to another manner, another kind of inspiration, from those who had prevailed hitherto; we find ourselves with a man of a new and different generation from novelists like George Sand or Jane Austen. The ideal has ceased, the lyric vein is dried up; the new men are cured of lyricism and the ideal.”

Obviously Flaubert is where most literature ended up (footnotes to his mature style): but you can also keep writing like Austen and Tolstoy. You can just . . . retain lyricism. Why not?

* * *

With that said, there is perhaps something slyly postmodern in O'Brian's cheerful disregard for all post-1850 literature. O’Brian carefully avoids Flaubertian realism: there’s nothing from the lower decks, nothing explicitly sexual, the violence is relatively restrained . . . he stays carefully, almost sneakily PG-13, but never in an obvious or sanitized way.

Similar to both Jane Austen and Raymond Chandler, who worked in well-established but mostly-non-literary genres -- the early 1800s 'novel of manners,' mid-1900s pulp noir fiction -- O’Brian elevates his genre (nautical fiction) but does not entirely transcend it. The question, at least for this reader, is: why? Was it as simple as the need to make money, to keep his publisher/editor happy? Was he uncomfortable with more experimentation, more depth? (In the unpublished writing exercises of his youth, O'Brian imitated Joyce and Proust but ultimately decided, correctly, to just write what came naturally to him.) O'Brian's published pre-Aubrey work is interesting because it's so deeply mediocre; we see him trying to do traditional literary short stories and failing horribly. It's similar to Joyce's Stephen Hero, but in reverse -- Joyce was a born modernist and postmodernist, while O'Brian clearly was not.

Anyway, similar to Austen and Chandler, POB doesn’t do writerly pirouettes or showing off, there's no pretention . . . all three authors work almost entirely within 'genre' prose but polish it to an absurdly high sheen, such that it's just as readable and binge-able as genre fiction, but the quality is nonetheless ridiculously high. (Indeed, I'm always kind of amazed that so many modern readers of Austen treat her books as genre/romance novels -- but they're so easy to read that perhaps this confusion makes sense.)

One clear indication of O'Brian's seriousness as an author is the care with which he conducted historical research, which is clearly lacking in all other authors of nautical fiction (e.g., this garbage). Similarly with Chandler: his letters and notebooks are compelling reading material for a variety of reasons, but not least because you can see the depth of his research; e.g., Chandler had multiple L.A. County police detectives review the interrogation scenes in Farewell, My Lovely to ensure that everything was completely accurate in terms of how a police interview would have been conducted in that precinct in the early 1940s. (I’m going to go ahead and guarantee that no other contributor to Black Mask or Dime Detective ever bothered to do this.)

The key flaw with O'Brian's series is that he ultimately succumbs -- partially, but unnecessarily -- to the limitations of genre. There are cases where he clearly retreats into the formulaic; where he had chances to strive for something greater, to add more depth, etc., but ultimately restricted his vision, at times, to inelegant repetition. Inelegant repetition is of course part and parcel with genre and is a large part of its appeal – there’s something vaguely comforting about every Chandler novel starting with the protagonist sitting at his desk – but it also becomes grating. O'Brian's repetition of certain themes (Maturin so clumsy! Killick so grumpy!) are pleasant and charming, in a way, but somewhat saccharine.

I hasten to emphasize that in these 21 novels there is never a truly bad line, a truly boring chapter . . . even the weaker books are still objectively very good. O’Brian has perfected the nautical history genre and he has perfected Austen’s style, but both are inherently limited: he has written a masterpiece, but it is necessarily (due to genre limitations) a minor masterpiece. It’s like what Harold Bloom said about Bret Easton Ellis’s early novels; in an attempt to avoid false notes, he doesn’t hit enough notes.

This is not to say that O'Brian's work has no depth -- there's subtext and a fair amount of showing rather than telling, I think. For example, there's the subtlety of Maturin loving Diana so deeply precisely because she is inherently opposed to subterfuge and is frank and spirited and honest, almost to a fault, while Stephen is deceitful by necessity and hates the half-shadowy world of spycraft; thus her frankness is especially appealing to him, but O'Brian (and Maturin) never come out and say this. Or the character development of Maturin in Book 13, where he's finally off the laudanum, and the reader realizes that Maturin's melancholic Stoic nature – including some of the narration! – from the first 12 books was mostly due to his being spaced out on opiates, and this subtle shaping of his personality by addiction forces the reader to re-evaluate the events of the earlier novels.

Similarly, the narrator is very subtly 'meta' and I think quite interesting: in a sense the narrator is both Maturin and O'Brian (the historical person, rather than O'Brian as objective third-person Flaubertian godlike narrator), but they merge and diverge . . . this is somewhat similar to the multiple Marcels in Temps Perdu, where really they all reduce back to the man Marcel Proust, but in an interesting way. (Perhaps the most striking thing about O'Brian's series is that we never get any narration from Aubrey’s perspective.)

With that said, even if there’s some subtlety in the narration, you can tell from interviews that O’Brian is simply Maturin. His physique, personality (prickly, arrogant), style of speaking, etc., are all clearly, precisely Maturin; O'Brian hates Napoleon just as deeply as Maturin; he worked in British intelligence just as Maturin did; and so on. (Notably, Aubrey is primarily based on O'Brian's older brother, as well as the historical captain, Cochrane.)

There’s also some authorial wish fulfillment in Maturin as protagonist, alas, which detracts from the realism at times. There was an interesting Q&A at an event (go to 52:02) where someone in the audience asks O’Brian how Maturin, a 110-pound weakling intellectual, somehow manages to be an action hero who wins pistol duels and swordfights and performs surgery on himself without anesthetic and marries an absurdly beautiful woman (Diana), etc. etc., and O’Brian gives a sarcastic non-answer, because of course he can’t explain it – he’s mildly embarrassed, as he should be, because he’s written a fictional version of himself as a swashbuckling superhero.

We can see a similar self-indulgence in that O'Brian clearly has an intense case of nostalgia for the early nineteeth century, but this nostalgia is very carefully avoided in the novel itself, even by implication, which serves to illustrate just how present it is. The game is up, however, in interviews, where O'Brian unironically says things like: "The sensation of falling into the past is not unlike that of coming home for the holidays from a new, strenuous, unpleasant school, and finding oneself back in wholly familiar surroundings with kind, gentle people and dogs—inconveniences of course, such as candlelight in one’s bedroom (hard to read by), but nothing that one was not deeply used to.” Dude . . . come on.

* * *

With all that said, the achievement of this series is incomparable. Stanley Kubrick famously said that movies are overly dependent on their origins in plays: if plays = movies, then clearly novels = TV shows (whether prestige or otherwise). However, most novels are a six-episode HBO miniseries, rather than a full season of TV, as it were. And then very few novels are more than one season; War & Peace would have a solid five-season run, of course, and I think you could make the case for five or six seasons of Proust (any sane showrunner would cut most of the Albertine material) . . . but O’Brian has made a 14-season TV show where literally every season is good, even if none are transcendently good, precisely.

Crucially, in this analogy, O’Brian has created the ONLY prestige television series that is more than a few seasons long. He has written a continuous 7,000-page novel that was split into sections for ease of publication, and this is the only one that we have, thus far. (Obviously I’m excluding non-literary genre fiction . . . O’Brian’s achievement clearly transcends the plethora of single-draft fantasy ‘novels’ or other terrible genre exercises that extend a badly-written narrative with cardboard characters to 7,000+ pages.)

The effect of these 21 novels is cumulatively impressive in a way that is literally unique in world literature, because O’Brian is the only person who has done it. (You can halfway make the case for Zola, Powell, Balzac?, but, no.) These 7,000 pages amount to far more than the sum of their parts: taking a single novel on its own terms is almost unfair, like looking at a couple episodes of The Wire in isolation. I don’t think anyone would claim that S3E7-E8 of The Wire are better than a high-quality two-hour film, but the ENTIRETY of seasons 3-4 of The Wire are better than almost all movies. Similarly, the most impressive aspects of O’Brian only work as a series: the depth of the relationships, the payoffs, etc.

The closest structural comparison is definitely Proust, whose work O’Brian admired. Much of the effect of the seventh volume of Temps Perdu is rooted in its being adeptly added to the superstructure of the previous six volumes; meeting Saint-Loup’s daughter in Time Regained is an almost unique literary experience insofar as the import of that moment builds upon the four thousand pages that come before it. And in O’Brian there is something absurdly satisfying in the introduction of a plotline in Book 5 that comes to a conclusion in Book 14 (Wray), or the introduction of a character in Book 2 (Diana) whose story comes to a definitive conclusion six thousand pages and twenty years later, or Aubrey meeting Maturin's daughter, etc.

Could other authors do this better than O’Brian? Yes, definitely – I would have loved to have seen Joyce’s attempt, Austen’s attempt, etc. But this is the only attempt we have, and thus the only example of such effects being carried out in literary fiction. O’Brian is painting with a color that no other painter has ever used: there are millions of novels, and precisely one 7,000+ page literary novel.

[Bob Breen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I discovered this series shortly after O’Brian’s death and began to devour them one after another, immersing myself into a life at sea aboard a frigate in the 18th century. The books center on the friendship and adventures of its two main characters: Jack Aubrey, a British naval officer, and Stephen Maturin, the ship’s surgeon, naturalist, and part-time intelligence agent.

As a sailor, I appreciate the technical portions of driving a tall ship on the open sea. I'll admit, even with many years of sailing experience, I don't fully understand all the jargon that describes the maneuvering of these massive ships from 300 years ago, but I do get the gist of it. I delight in sailing along with Captain Aubrey from my comfortable armchair, plowing through hurricanes and typhoons, avoiding icebergs, clawing off a lee shore in a tempest, even fleeing an erupting volcano in the middle of the ocean. It's not always foul weather and danger: I revel in the many lovely passages depicting beautiful weather, trade winds pulling the ship along at 12 knots over an easy rolling sea that brings smiles to the officers and crew alike. And of course, there are the gruesome depictions of sea battles, frigates gliding along through thick smoke, cannons blasting huge iron balls through the hulls and rigging of their enemy, spars shattering, men dying instantly in bloody rivers on the deck, or later on the archaic operating table in the ship’s cockpit.

O’Brian engages all five senses in these novels: the sounds of the ship creaking at sea and the shriek of wind through the rigging, the taste of intricately described meals with wonderfully strange names (Solomongundy or Spotted Dog anyone?), the smell of gunpowder and the stench of men crammed in close quarters below deck, the feel of the backstay burning your hand as you slide down from the crows nest, and of course the incredible sights of a beautiful blue ocean, tropical islands and the view from the lookout of tall ships under a full press of sail.

I don’t often reread books, especially a whole series of books, but I’m about to finish my third reading of this set, more than 5,000 pages all told, and will almost certainly reread them. You might say that I am continually reading these books since there seems always to be a volume resting on my nightstand. The books have become such comfort over the years that I read them alongside other books, in between books, and in the middle of the night should insomnia strike. Before long, I’ll be a world away, sailing along on a topgallant breeze, with whatever troubles that had awoken me soon put astern at a 10-knot clip.

I love these books so much that I own them in four different formats: on my Kindle, two different hardbound sets, and the audiobooks, narrated by the wonderful late Patrick Tull, whose incredible voice has now become indistinguishable from the voice in my head as I read these myself, and whose performances can make even the longest commute exhilarating. I also keep a set on our trawler. There’s no better place to read O’Brian than on the hook in some secluded bay, the rocking of the boat in perfect cadence with the rolling of a frigate becalmed in the aqua blue of the Mediterranean.

Why such fondness, you ask? Beyond the seafaring and nostalgia for a simpler time, it’s the two polar opposite characters of Aubrey and Maturin, and their enduring friendship that draws me to these books again and again.

Jack Aubrey is larger than life in many ways; his knowledge and experience in commanding a tall ship with all that goes with sailing such a complex vessel in usually hostile territory, with hundreds of souls to lead; his innate sense of battle strategy, somehow always sniffing out the wiles of his enemy and often winning engagements, and lucrative prize money, even when he is outmatched and outgunned; his ability to work out the position of his ship based on the position of stars and a startlingly difficult set of trigonometry equations. And yet it's Jack's glaring weaknesses that, to me, make him a more believable character. As talented as he is at sea, he is equally disastrous on land, easily swindled of his money by crooks, often to near disastrous ends. His fondness for women and multi-year voyages away from his wife back home in England conspire to get him in hot water across several hemispheres of the globe. Barring the running of a ship and the fighting of the enemy at sea, Jack is often hopelessly inept, and finds himself being saved time and again by his dear friend Stephen Maturin. It's these shortcomings on land, coupled with his general good nature and cheer, make “Lucky” Jack Aubrey a memorable and lovable character.

Stephen Maturin is Jack Aubrey’s friend, onboard physician, intelligence agent for the British Government, and in most ways the complete opposite to the commander. O’Brian uses Stephen to help the reader understand the intricate workings of a ship, for Stephen never entirely adapts to life at sea, and his confusion during various operations provides an opportunity for the author to teach us as well, usually in a humorous way. Maturin has his share of faults beyond his obliviousness to maritime rules and customs: he’s an off and on opium and cocaine addict, quick to temper and generally shrewish when interrupted from his studies, ill-dressed and wearing clothes often stained by blood, human and otherwise, and by most accounts, a small, not very handsome man.

Stephen’s genius shines brightly through these novels. As an intelligence agent with an extreme sense of morality and outrage against the French, he finds himself frequently involved in treacherous spy missions that put him in perilous danger with only his sharp wits to extricate himself. He is also an amateur naturalist and brings to the pages a wonder at seeing such a variety of wildlife around and about the ship and the remote anchorages they visit. O’Brian’s lengthy descriptions of the birds, insects (especially beetles), whales, and all sorts of flora and fauna thrust the reader into the midst of Maturin’s obsessive personality. These passages comfort me like a warm blanket, and I often look about when I’m on a walk with a new sense of interest in the wildlife around me. Stephen is also the ship’s surgeon, and the descriptions of operations in the bowels of the ship, lights swinging this way and that, can’t help but transport me back 300 years to the dark ages of medicine, making me thankful for the modern age.

Beyond the beautiful settings and adventures afloat, the books showcase a unique friendship these two men share, and the equal footing they hold throughout the stories. I can’t think of another book or series of books where a pair of characters, particularly ones as different from each other as Aubrey and Maturin, provide such a balance in the storytelling. On long voyages, they play music together in the ship’s great cabin, Jack on the violin, Stephen on the cello, often playing off the other improvisationally. I suspect this serves as a theme for their relationship throughout the series; each of them switching off in the lead role in some caper, only to reverse roles and allow the other to shine as the story unfolds.

They quarrel like brothers, and over the course of twenty volumes, have their share of falling out, but always find a way to strengthen their friendship and be stronger together, and with most all of their adventures, success is only achieved when they pull together. It may very well be this enduring friendship that I love so much about these books. Every one must yearn for such a perfect friend in their life if only to find it in the pages of a novel.

As I conclude my third time through these books, I will start yet again from the beginning. I cannot not read them. The idea of saying goodbye to these two dear friends is too much to bear at this stage of my life. And with the vast body of work here across twenty volumes, and my memory not being what it once was, starting over remains a new experience, accompanied by a comfortable “deja vu” feeling with every delightful page.

If you haven’t had a chance to meet Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin, there’s not a moment to lose. Trust me. You are in for an extended treat.

[Roger · Rating 5 out of 5]

So rather than try to review each book individually let me just say this is a remarkable body of work. A friend gave me Master and Commnder for my fortieth birthday and I read a couple in the series every year. I was bummed when I reached the end.

A tour de force of grand history, individual psychology and everything in between. For the right reader this can be a remarkable voyage.

[Kimberley · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sometimes, if you're an avid enough reader, you'll pick up a book on a whim and a character will walk into your life and change it forever. Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin were two such characters for me. I did not see the film Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World when it came out, but it starred Russell Crowe, a personal favorite, so I did eventually get around to watching it. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and became aware that it was based on a series of books--a rather long series of books, in fact, set in the British Navy during the Napoleonic Era. I had seen the Horatio Hornblower miniseries and tried to read some of the books to not much avail--a bit too swashbuckling and boyish for my adult literary tastes, so I wasn't overeager to attempt another what I assumed to be similar set of stories. But I bought the DVD of the film, and it came with a tie-in paperback copy of Master and Commander, so I thought, "What's the harm?"

The book began with a detailed sketch of a three-masted square-rigged ship, with all sails and masts numbered and identified. I knew at that point that this was going to be a different sort of read. My sense of accurately-done historical fiction was decidedly intrigued. If this Mr. O'Brian already cared enough to give me a reference diagram, then maybe we were going to get something done here besides sail about with our swords drawn in some kind of adolescent naval fantasy camp.

And indeed, we did not even start out on a boat at all. I met Jack and Stephen in the Governor's House on Port Mahon, where they were seated next to one another listening to a concert, Jack tapping out the beat of the music on his knee and occasionally humming along, and Stephen absolutely loathing him for all of it. They could not be more different, these two. And yet, at this moment begins a relationship that will last over the course of 21 books and a friendship that will change both of their lives and mine.

There aren't two better written, more completely realized, more thoroughly human characters in all historical fiction, in my opinion. Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin could easily be based on real people down to their most maddening quirks. They never act out of character. They never do something that makes you think their creator has taken leave of his senses. Oh, there are plenty of instances during the course of your time with them when you are thoroughly disgusted with one or the both of them. Jack can be a giant infant and a great bumbling booby, and Stephen can hold a grudge long past the point of any reasonable use to anyone including himself. Both of them are entirely too obsessed with whatever they might hold to be a "point of honor" whenever they think it suits them to be so. There are times I wanted to slap some sense into them, and there were a few points when I had to put the book down and essentially break up with Jack for a few days because I was so furious about something he had done. But I always came back. You cannot stay mad. You grow to love both of them in a way it's nearly impossible to do with most fictional characters (and a fair deal of real people). They are impeccable in their realness, and in their devotion to each other you become devoted to both.

As for the rest of everything else that is not my longstanding love affair with Jack and Stephen, it is also impeccable. O'Brian's initial gift of the ship diagram was just the first sign of a tireless desire to get absolutely everything right about the British Navy of the early 19th century. Everything is explained to and through poor Stephen, a hopeless landgoer who wouldn't know a jib from a foresail before he climbs aboard a ship for the first time. As he falls and scrapes and trips his way along each new discovery, he, and we, are introduced to each term of jargon until we feel like old hands. Soon Stephen and the reader know our way around the ship well enough to tell our time by bells, to remember which side is port, and just who belongs on the quarterdeck. We learn about the massive and bulky ships of the line, the sleek and coveted frigates, and the exact differences between snows, pinks, brigs, sloops, what gets to be called a man of war, and what constitutes a ship by courtesy or a ship outright.

Varied crew members are introduced, and many stick around or leave and then return, and become characters in their own right as we watch them advance, like the competent and well-liked Tom Pullings, the poetic and affable William Mowett, the highly-valued and powerful coxswain Barret Bonden, and the exceedingly shrewish but loyal steward Preserved Killick. There are also many land-based characters that become regular faces, as Jack and Stephen develop relationships in England and in various ports. All are painted with the same deftly realistic brush, and all serve to set off the main characters in all their various lights.

I can't say enough about these books. Some of them are obviously slower than others. Not all of them are fully seagoing, not all of them are purely land-based. There is intrigue and romance and mayhem and warfare and all sorts of adventures to be had with these two, and I wouldn't have any of them with anyone else. If I could spend any amount of time with any literary characters, it would be anywhere and anything with Lucky Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin, hands down. They are messes to be sure, and certainly imperfect creatures, but they are truly some of the best people I have ever had the pleasure to meet in any form.

[Will Langdon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not a cry for help.

[Jeannette Barnes · Rating 5 out of 5]

Deeply enjoyed all of these; my late Bob rejoiced when I turned him on to these fine seagoing novels which bring the British Navy of the Napoleonic Wars so vividly to life. Robert and I read and re-read this series over and over again--I've read 'em four times all the way through, just me, with delight. His bent was just a lil bit tad more technical in the matter of exact methods of sailing, weaponry, strategies of war. I am STILL gobsmacked by the depth, the quality, the sweet complexities of plot and the admirable characterizations on gorgeous-spread display. AND, for sauce, the language is unbeatable. These are simply marvelously well-constructed, meticulously researched, and told with a verve and swash that will pull you clean out to deep blue seas.

You don't have to read 'em down in order, but the most fun may be to begin at the beginning, and go right along with our heroes, their ladies, and their infinitely varied adventures. Book 1 (which was kinda lumped in with chunks of 2 in the movies, and even Russell Crowe couldn't really do that as well as the novels do) is _Master and Commander_.

Fair winds and prosperous voyages!

Jeannette

[Don Halpert · Rating 5 out of 5]

Yes I read the whole series up to book 19. I did not read the unfinished book 20. I kept a big dictionary with me to define many of the archaic words he uses. O'Brian uses the language of the times. This shows more respect for the reader than using modern language that would make it easier, but not be authentic.
The adventures of Aubrey and Maturin and a wonder source of reading pleasure. O'Brian is consistent in the character development and actions. The side discussions between the two are great and I enjoyed and learned a great deal.
I enjoyed all 19 books. Recommended for anyone who wants to share the inner workings of 19th century British navy.

[Hugh · Rating 4 out of 5]

The first ten books or so are superb, but after that repetition and boredom set in. O'Brian uses the same plot devices over and over (the most notable are the financial disasters that beset Aubrey and Maturin after they are enriched on one of their voyages--Aubrey must have been fleeced by predatory businessmen/wicked government agencies at least half a dozen times in the course of the books).

[Paul Spencer · Rating 5 out of 5]

It would almost be worth completely erasing my memory banks in order to read these 20 wonderful volumes for the first time all over again (and maybe go see The Godfather again while I'm at it).

[Andrew Hill · Rating 5 out of 5]

O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin novels gave me one of the best reading experiences of my life. That said, he has a high barrier to entry, to use an industrial metaphor.

O'Brian's novels inhabit the world they describe. He uses the language that people used at the time. Many readers will be put off by the nautical terms (including descriptions of maneuvers in sailing and names for parts of the ship), the period-accurate language (in dialogue), and the abundance of period-specific references to everything from food, to music, to medicine, to politics, to english law, and so on. There is an excellent glossary for the series called "A Sea of Words", but I don't actually think that it's a good idea to use it when you begin reading O'Brian, though I would recommend reading the introductory essays, including pieces on the Royal Navy (explaining promotion, etc.), medicine during the period, etc.

Some readers love O'Brian for his obsession with historical accuracy. What makes me love his work is not so much the novel vocabulary but the way in which he invokes an entire, past world, and the lives of his two heroes. Over the course of the 20, complete Aubrey-Maturin novels (he was at work on a 21st when he passed away, but the end of the 20th in my opinion is the perfect ending for the series), O'Brian's heroes travel throughout the world of the early 19th century. Their adventures include the Napoleonic wars on the continent, the intricacies of espionage between the French and the allied nations, the war with the new American nation, the whaling trade, the slave trade, piracy in the east Indies, the British Raj in India, the penal colony in Australia, the explosion of natural history on the heels of the enlightenment, the Irish problem, and so on.

All of this is animated by a deep and growing friendship between Jack Aubrey, an English officer in the Royal Navy, and Stephen Maturin, an Irish gentleman who is also a doctor, a spy, and a natural historian. The novels don't just recreate the world of the time, they tell the stories of these men's lives. When they meet at the beginning of "Master and Commander", they are young, unmarried, and inimical to each other. Their love of music brings them together, and sets them on course for an abiding friendship that will see them through personal triumphs and tragedies. By the end of the series, the men are older, and their lives are transformed. Their family lives occupy an increasing portion of the novels as the series progresses.

Never have I felt that I "know" a fictional character more than I felt it with Aubrey and Maturin. When the series ended, I felt genuine sorrow. It's a strange thing, but true, like bidding goodbye to a close friend, knowing I should never see him again.

These are great, great books. They are so rewarding. But to begin, I recommend reading O'Brian's short novel, "The Golden Ocean", unconnected to the Aubrey-Maturin series, written before he began those books. Get "Sea of Words" and read the introductory essays. Then read "Master and Commander", the first of the Aubrey-Maturin novels. As you read it, when you encounter unfamiliar words, don't get hung up. Let them wash over you, like starting to learn a foreign language through immersion. "Sea of Words" has some useful diagrams of ships with the parts labeled. Those may prove helpful, but it won't be long before you know the difference between shrouds and stays, and you won't even stop to think about it. And some things you may never understand. You really don't have to know exactly what's involved in "boxhauling" to understand that it is difficult, awkward, and involves sailing a ship backwards. Many adults are impatient with reading books that require them to use context to understand the language. But it's something children do all the time. Once you embrace that expectation, you'll get right into the flow of O'Brian's books.

[Phil · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dear Abby used to say that length didnt matter but this twenty-book series is long enough to make you stay in love forever. The first couple of times you devote a portion of your life to this series you cant believe how much you missed on previous voyages into this fascinating world. When you're reading these books you become frustrated that you have to do things in your 'real life' other than read. You can go live in these books.
And what a world it is! The story centers on two main characters; Jack Aubrey, the good-spirited naval officer whose career we follow from lowly lieutenant to his final promotion to admiral. Aboard ship he is the Master and Commander, the unquechable hero who navigates through impossible seas and turns the tables on his enemies by using craft and through sheer guts. On land he is a hopeless idiot, a trusting victim for every con man and conniving woman. He is hated by the powers that be, who try to frustrate him at every turn. The other main character is Steven Maturin, the bastard son of Catalonian aristocracy and a savant; medicine, languages,natural philosophy, he is counted among the wise. He is also a spy with connections everywhere, his intrigues add a very astonishing level to the book and also counteract the messes that befall Aubrey with regularity. He is an enthusiastic cocaine user and a sometime opium addict. But as incomparable as he is on land when he sets sail he is an almost hopeless lubber, unable to climb up a gangway without incident. the interplay between the two opposite characters and the subordinate cast of dozens of others create a wonderful alternative universe and a true pleasure to read. Patrick O'Brain writes with a rare style and an ironic humor that make every page a pleasure. He pokes fun at the naval culture of the times (Aubrey's opinion of Homer's Odyssey? "Hanging about in port is what it amounts to!")and a couple of the books have a sub-theme of a poetry competition among two of the officers that is funny and very human. In fact I think I'll go start re-reading these books now!

[Roger W. · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the great reads of my life was the first slow acquiring and reading of the 20 volumes in the Aubrey-Maturin series. Soon after I had finished them for the first time I began reading them again: I didn't want to finish reading these books. In the meantime too I had bought a companion volume A sea Of Words, which helped explain a lot of nautical and medical jargon, together with Harbors and High Seas which details the myriad locations, real and invented, where the books take place. As I sit writing this I can look up to my right at the twenty dog-eared books up there on my shelf and feel a wish again to immerse myself in that extended tale of life in those long-vanished 'wooden worlds'.
Stories of ships and the sea have always fascinated me; some years ago too I read the Hornblower novels. These O'Brian books seemed right up my alley, having first learned about them from the DVD of the Peter Weir film adaptation of elements in the stories. When I started reading the first one I was captivated by the wealth of detail, the characters, the humor, the variety of subjects and references, the language, and again and again by that amazing detail with such a ring of authenticity to it that one really feels drawn into the world of 1805.
One of the essays added at the backs of the books likens the art of the historical fiction writer to that of science fiction: both have to use all their skill to create a believable world which no one living has really ever seen. No living person has actually had the experience of living in one of the Royal Navy's ships of the early 1800s, living in that society and in that time. But Mr. O'Brian's work makes it a living, breathing and totally believable world.

[MichaelR · Rating 5 out of 5]

An astonishing, erudite, spell-binding epic. A series of novels (or, a single, monstrously long novel) that is incomparable in the English language. It is simultaneously vastly entertaining, moving, comic, arch, learned and thrilling. It is difficult to know where - or how - to stop praising O'Brian's work. He has wrought a masterpiece that is out of its time and timeless. His grasp of his subject and its historical setting and its vocabulary is magisterial and utterly engaging. His leading characters (Aubrey and Maturin) are entirely and authentically men of their time, yet we perceive in them the very qualities we treasure most in our heroes and in those we most respect. And, even so, they are flawed by the age they live in - life is cheaper, patriarchy unchallenged, class divide is rampant, and so on. That is entirely as it should be in a great work of historical fiction. Our own age has its own imperfections and injustices. If you have never read this series, then you have my deepest and abiding envy. I wish I could myself discover it for the first time. I must be satisfied with yet another re-read.

[Jess Trebanna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Patrick O'Brian -- a master of his craft!!! I cannot say enough about this man. He researched his subject matter so completely that I have to admit I've never read someone whose voice is more authentic. Yes, these are novels, but the historical detail is unswervingly correct and integrated so smoothly that by the third or fourth book you feel as though you could set the fore t'gallant stays'l yourself. If you know what I'm talking about, you would enjoy O'Brian beyond your wildest dreams. If you have no clue what I'm talking about, for heaven's sake go to your library and ask for an O'Brian book! And if you're still not convinced, let me add this: O'Brian is hilarious. Really. I've never laughed so hard. In fact, I'm smiling right now just thinking about it. :)

[Cole Schoolland · Rating 5 out of 5]

This series could not be HIGHER RECOMMENDED. Everyone out there owes it to themselves to read this series of books. The characters will become your very real friends as you experience their adventurers with them. You will laugh out loud and you will cry. I was absolutely heartbroken when I reached the end of the series. Patrick O'Brian was, without a doubt, one of the most brilliant, beautiful, and eloquent writers of the 20th Century.
Note: be sure and buy the glossary of nautical terms or a companion book to use to get you along.

[Roger Miller · Rating 5 out of 5]

My relationship with these books and the men who inhabit them is as real as (almost) any relationship I’ve had, and realer than all but a few. I’ve read, passed along, re-read, and re-circulated these books for many years, and have praised them to all with ears th entire time. Now, I’ve finally (a) completed my record of their and our friendship by acquiring this beautiful boxed set and (b) passing along to a younger reader all of my other copies of these wonderful books. If he enjoys them 1/100th as much as I have, he will be richly rewarded.

[David]

Patrick O'Brian is the bedrock for my Mount Rushmore of authors! If you enjoy reading, you will find his books worthy of your time and probably will find them as favorites.

[Walker · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was unable to add a finish date because I am drawn to the Aubrey/Maturin series again and again. Patrick O’Brian builds a masterful series with believable characters and drama. While ostensibly a series involving historic Naval action, O’Brian weaves in exploration of broader issues like slavery, class struggles, justice, land reform, race relations, and so on. This series is one part action, one part social commentary, and two parts drama, all interwoven in travel writing.

The settings are impeccable, the characters are fully human with flaws and strengths that the reader can identify with—to the level of chastising or praising the characters, as the situation dictates.

Each novel stands alone, and yet all flow together in an elegant roman fleuve. Book-level adversaries give way to series-level adversaries and then come and go, realistically, as needed to keep the drama and tension alive.

The only drawbacks to the series are the first two books, where it feels like O’Brian is still trying to define his main characters and their relationships to each other and to the broader world. If on the fence about the series, start at book three and then go back to books one and two, once you are comfortable. No matter what, you will find lines and paragraphs that will force you to go find someone to whom you can read aloud, simply to share the joy.

[Leah Barnes · Rating 5 out of 5]

Now it may be difficult to explain why a nautical series filled with references almost impossible to understand for us modern folks could be one of the best series ever written... but it is. Patrick O'Brian is so exceptional that I was convinced he was a classical author until I looked him up and discovered that his last book was written in the '90s. the 1990's! His characters will captivate you. His plot line will enthrall you. And you'll learn more about the English Navy during the Napoleonic era than you ever thought possible.

[Ted Canaday · Rating 5 out of 5]

6980 pages of pure joy - culturally & linguistically immersive historical literature, set on the sea of the Napoleonic Wars. Ah, so captivating, I sincerely miss plunging from one book to the next now that they're complete. Yes, this was an adventure my Mom started me on, buying one of the first books as a present based on a review she read. The language, the leadership, the relations, the sea, rich with characters one learns to love. I'll look back with fondness on my 21 weeks of sailing with O'Brian across his inspired imagination.

First reading 2006
Re-read in

[Nick Stengel · Rating 5 out of 5]

What can I say about this magnum opus, that took about 6 months to get through. Capital! The prose is so amazingly fluid, the nuances and historical facts are amazing in their level of detail and ability to both set the scene and add to the plot. I will quibble with O'Brian's annoying tendency to spend pages talking about petrels and boobies while major plot points are glossed over or mentioned in passing. So am I saying that the books should have been longer? Yes. Yes I am, forgive me.

[Greg Smith · Rating 5 out of 5]

Better than most science-fiction at portraying to the last detail an alien world full of alien sensibilities, in which even simple words such as "shy" suggest a way of seeing and doing completely different than our own.

I re-read the whole series every eight or ten years. Have done so three times. The first read-through helped me through a challenging time in my life. Having these books on the shelf is like having money in the bank.

[Nathan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Words fail. I've never enjoyed a series, nor two characters, not their supporting players as much as I've enjoyed these ones; the journeys, joys, pains, failures, victories, and utter zest for life of Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin will stay with me for the rest of my life, and only grow upon countless revisits. A masterpiece.

[Revesk · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read the entire series years ago and am including it in my list as a wholehearted endorsement of these delightful tales. This may seem odd, since many of them involve scenes of war, but they also include cultural history, naval history, adventure, strong relationships, and moral dilemmas usually well-resolved.

[DoctorM · Rating 5 out of 5]

Here's the way it works. If ever you're depressed or glum or listless, pull down one of the Aubrey/Maturin novels. Start anywhere. Dive in. A glass of port is a perfect accompaniment, but the books alone will always leave you thrilled and amused and better off. Always.

[Susan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful companion reading to Jane Austen's novels, especially complementary with Mansfield Park and Persuasion. Two of Austen's brothers served in HMRN concurrently with Jack Aubrey. Her brother Frank outlived her by many years and became Admiral of the Fleet.

[Chris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tied for my favorite series based on the same principal characters. Beautiful prose, a lot of humor but above all a portrait of a great friendship. I have read the entire series four time over the past twenty years.