The Hundred Days

Aubrey & Maturin #19

by Patrick O'Brian

Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin tales are widely acknowledged to be the greatest series of historical novels ever written. To commemorate the 40th anniversary of their beginning, with Master and Commander, these evocative stories are being re-issued in paperback with smart new livery. This is the nineteenth book in the series. Following the extraordinary success of The Yellow Admiral, this latest Aubrey-Maturin novel brings alive the sights and sounds of North Africa as well as the great naval battles in the days immediately following Napoleon's escape from Elba. Aubrey and Maturin are in the thick of the plots and counterplots to prevent his regaining power. Coloured by conspiracies in the Adriatic, in the Berber and Arab lands of the southern shores of the Mediterranean, by night actions, fierce pursuits, slave-trading and lion hunts, The Hundred Days is a masterpiece. 'O'Brian is far and away the best of the Napoleonic storytellers and The Hundred Days is one of the best of the series: a classic naval adventure, crammed with incident, superbly plotted and utterly gripping!This is O'Brian at his brilliant, entertaining best and when he is on this form the rest of us who write of the Napoleonic conflict might as well give up and try a new career. Fans of the series will need no encouragement to buy this book, but if you are new to Aubrey and Maturin then this is as splendid an introduction as you could wish for.' Bernard Cornwell

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical, Adventure, Audiobook, Nautical, War

281 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1998

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

[Darwin8u · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Patriotism, promotion, and prize-money have been described as the three masts of the Royal Navy."
- Patrick O'Brian, The Hundred Days



One more full novel to go in this series and two surprising deaths. This, the 19th novel was published in 1998, 29 years after the first book in the series (Master and Commander) came out (1969). This novel takes place largely in the Eastern Mediterranean, Gibraltar, and the Levant. There were many things about it to love and while this wasn't the best in the series, O'Brian still manages to reinvigorate the novel (which takes place during les Cent-Jours (hundred days) after Napoleon escapes imprisonment on the Isle of Elba; hence the title).

Things are wrapping up with the series (but you wouldn't know it from the writing). Some of the things from this book I loved: naval superstitions (involving narwhal tusks, hands of glory, etc.), Mediterranean piracy, Gibraltar, details regarding the splitting of prize money, nuances of the Ottoman Empire (specifically the Deys of Algiers), discussion of the Battle of Waterloo, etc. O'Brian constantly brings back common items like music, science, education of young midshipmen, order and discipline, wives, etc., but each book is spiced with some new tidbit or eddy that he folds into the plot with skill and precision. When Captain Aubrey and Dr. Maturin discuss prize money, it is relevant to the plot, but also interesting and detailed. It just WORKS.

[Ted · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 1/2


Said Kent (a Whitehall gentleman), “You will recall that Buonaparte professed himself a Muslim at the time of the Egyptian campaign?”


This from the penultimate (#19 of 20) novel in O’Brian’s Aubrey-Maturin series of Napoleonic-era sailing/adventure novels. (For an overview and introduction to this series, see my review of Master and Commander.)




At the end of the previous novel (The Yellow Admiral) Aubrey receives a letter, dated Feb 28 [1815] - Napoleon has escaped from Elba. The reviewed novel begins, “The sudden rearmament that followed Napoleon’s escape from Elba had done little to thin the ranks of unemployed sea-officers by the early spring of 1815.“

Yes, the title of the book refers to the (later so-called) Hundred Days of Napoleon’s return to, and subsequent fall from, power in 1815.

Before continuing, but only after a disclaimer … DISCLAIMER Most of the events shown in the timeline have NOTHING to do with the novel; and of those few that have anything to do with it, none play any major part in O’Brian’s story, other than as prompting British authorities to order courses of action mentioned … … let’s indulge in an

Historical digression – a timeline of certain European events, 1812 – 1815.

1812 – The tide of war in Europe begins to turn against Napoleon when his disastrous invasion of Russia results in the loss of a major portion of his army.

October 1813 – In the War of the Sixth Coalition, Coalition forces from Russia, Prussia, the Austrian Empire, and Sweden defeat Napoleon in the battle of Leipzig. The Coalition (including Britain, Spain, Portugal, Saxony, Bavaria and the Netherlands) vow to pursue Napoleon to Paris and depose him.

Late February 1814 – Prussian Field Marshall Blucher advances on Paris.

March 1814 – The battles of Laon and Reims are fought early in the month; followed by the battle of Montmartre, fought in the Paris suburbs on the 30th. On 31 March the French surrender.

6 April 1814 – Napoleon abdicates. This leads to the ascension of Louis XVIII to the throne of France, governing under a Constitutional Monarchy (the Bourbon Restoration).

11 April 1814 – Napoleon is banished to the island of Elba, off the coast of Tuscany, and is granted sovereignty over its 12,000 inhabitants.

Early May 1814 - Napoleon arrives on Elba.

September 1814 – The Congress of Vienna, one of the signal (and controversial) events of 19th century Europe, convenes. The countries of Europe attempt to form a balance of power that will lead to peace on the continent, following the Napoleonic Wars and the French Revolution. Aspects of the Congress were used in the next century when first the League of Nations, and later the United Nations, were formed.

26 February 1815 - As the Congress of Vienna drags into its sixth month, Napoleon seizes an opportunity and escapes from Elba.

1 March 1815 - Napoleon lands in France at Golfe-Juan.

March 1815 - As he makes his way to Paris, thousands of French veterans, and nominally Royalist troops, flock to his growing army.

13 March 1815 – The Congress of Vienna declares Napoleon an outlaw.

19-20 March 1815 - Napoleon arrives in Paris and assumes the Emperorship. The Hundred Days has begun.

25 March 1815 - Austria, Prussia, Russia and the United Kingdom, members of the Seventh Coalition, pledge themselves to put 150,000 men each into the field to end Napoleon’s rule.

15-16 June 1815 – Napoleon begins the “Waterloo campaign” (later so-called), attempting to defeat the armies of the Seventh Coalition in detail. The battles of Ligny (defeating Blucher’s Prussian army) and Quatre-Bras (stalemating Wellington’s British army) are fought.

18 June 1815 - The Battle of Waterloo, one of the most famous and significant in the history of Europe, is fought. Napoleon is defeated by Wellington’s British army, with help from a late charge by Prussian cavalry which sweep the French from the field. Napoleon returns to Paris.

8 July 1815. Prussian troops enter Paris. Louis XVIII is restored to the throne (again!). The Hundred Days (actually 111 days) ends, as does Napoleon’s influence on the course of European history.

15 July 1815 – Napoleon, on the lam and neither able to remain in France or escape from it, surrenders to Captain Frederick Maitland of HMS Bellerophon and is transported to England.

24 July 1815 – Napoleon is not allowed to land on British soil; instead he is placed on a third-rate ship of the line, HMS Northumberland, and transported to the remote island of St. Helena in the South Atlantic.

six years later, 5 May 1821 – Never having left St. Helena, Napoleon dies. Talleyrand says of his death, “It was not an event, only a news item.”

Very well, … but now, again before proceeding …

What about that outrageous quote at the top of the mast?

Napoleon a Muslim? Surely not. Is this something entirely made up by the author? Well, it would be quite like Tolstoy having made up and written, re Borodino, “ … when the whole plain was covered in smoke, on the French side the two divisions of Desaix and Compans advanced on the right upon the fleches … The fleches were a verst from the Shevardino redoubt, where Napoleon, attired in women’s clothing, was standing, …”

Yes, one can make up stuff in historical fiction, but to make up something outrageous and pass it off without a hint of humor or sarcasm? No. A thousand (or at least a dozen) times no.

It turns out that in Egypt, Napoleon did engage in certain activities and did make certain statements that over the years attained an overblown reputation. Google “Muslim support for Napoleon” (or some such) and see what comes up. One site I found (https://chnm.gmu.edu/revolution/d/612/) shows a quote from Napoleon’s personal secretary, from Napoleon’s memoirs, which the site summarizes thus:

Bonaparte’s secretary describes the religious practices, attitudes, and views of Bonaparte with regard to Islam. Accepting that the general curried favor with Muslims, he also hoped to deflect criticism of Bonaparte, claiming that what he did was good governance rather than bad Christianity, as his critics maintained.

Now, before developing this further, just one more historical note.

… just one more …

In this novel, Jack Aubrey once again becomes captain of HMS Surprise. This non-fictional ship, a vagabond character in the series, wends its way in and out of Jack Aubrey’s sailings on the high seas.

The Surprise was actually a ship built by the French builder Jean Fouache in Le Havre, named Unité and launched on January 16 1794. It was captured by the Royal Navy in April 1796, renamed the Surprise, and classified as a 28-gun sixth-rate frigate. The ship was sold out of the Royal Navy in 1802 and broken up. (See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Sur...)

BUT … she was restored to her glory days, made even somewhat more glorious, 175 years later, when O’Brian chose to give her to Jack Aubrey, first in HMS Surpise (3rd in the Aubrey-Maturin series), and then with increasing inventiveness, in The Ionian Mission (8th), The Far Side of the World (10th), Clarissa Oakes (The Truelove in the U.S.) (15th), this novel, and Blue at the Mizzen (20th and last). To fans of the series, and to Jack Aubrey even more, Surprise remains the ship that lives on in memory.




A replica of HMS Surprise at the San Diego Maritime Museum, based on HMS Rose and used in the Master and Commander film.


and back to

Napoleon the Muslim

Well, NOT! But what O’Brian writes is that Muslim potentates in North Africa are aflame with admiration for the deposed emperor, and, British intelligence reports, about to transport an immense fortune in gold across the Med, to be used in somehow delaying the assembly of the Seventh Coalition armies, thus buying time for Buonaparte.

This provides the background for Maturin’s mission in the book, which is to seek audiences with the Muslim leaders (engaged in simultaneous power struggles among themselves) and to thwart this shipment …

back to the review …

… while Jack Aubrey pursues, first, an assignment to provide escort for a fleet of Indiamen sailing up the NW coast of Africa, and then to begin actions in the Med. to assure that ship-builders in Italy do not provide craft to help reconstitute the French Navy.

Here’s a couple quotes from early in the book. First, as Aubrey’s ships sail from Gibraltar, and down the coast of Morocco, searching for the Indiamen. This illustrates O’Brian’s easy, pleasing narrative style.

They had scarcely cleared the Straits, leaving the glow of Tangier on the larboard quarter, before the rain stopped and the wind lessened, though it was still capable of a powerful gust from the same direction. ‘Mr Woodbine’, said Jack to the master, ‘I believe we may send up the topgallantmast and spread a little more canvas.’

This, with the help of a clearing sky over the main ocean, the light of a splendid moon and a more regular sea, was soon done; and the squadron, well in hand, at the proper cable’s length apart, ran down the Moroccan coast under courses and full topsails with an easier following sea and the wind on their larboard quarter …

This was pure sailing, with a fine regular heave and lift, an urgency of the water along the side, the sea-harping in the taut sheets and windward shrouds, the moon and stars making their even journey across the clearer sky from bow to quarter, pause and back again.

And then, a few hours later, having found the Indiamen under attack by a fleet of Moorish xebecs and galleys in a bay, barely holding their own with their lone escort, a sixteen gun brig-sloop …

Jack made the signal for independent engagement, and launched the Surprise at what seemed to be the commanding xebec, the corsair’s leader: the Moors had no distinct line of battle, but this one wore some red and tawny pennants.

… When each was five points on the other’s bow, Jack called, ‘On the downward roll: fire from forward as they bear.’

Some desultory musket fire, two or three well-directed round-shot from the xebec; the tingling sound of a gun hit full on the barrel; and immediately after the height of the wave Surprise fired a long rippling broadside from forty yards. The wind blew the smoke back, and when it cleared they saw a most shocking wreckage, half the xebec’s ports beaten in and her rudder shot away …

He took the Surprise right under the xebec’s stern. The frigate stayed beautifully and ran up the enemy’s side. The next slower, even more deliberate broadside shattered the Moor entirely. Xebecs were fine nimble fast-sailing craft, but they were not strongly built and she began to settle at once, her people crowding the deck and flinging everything that would float over the side.

… The bay resounded with the bellowing of guns. But already the issue was decided, the arrival of six brisk men-of-war made it absurd to stay. Those xebecs that could, spread their huge lateens on either side, in hare’s ears, and raced away at close on fifteen knots southward home to Sallee … while the uninjured galleys pulled straight into the wind’s eye, where no sailing ship could follow them.

But enough. No further quotes, no plot outlines.

Never mind such mundane happenings as numerous bird sightings, a Gibraltar court martial for sodomy, the rescue of a Muslim Dey from a lioness with a well-placed shot, a discussion of the possible reasons for impotency in men, Stephen Maturin’s purchase of two young Irish children in an Algerian slave market, discussions of diseases, medicines, mathematics, wildlife ... all described with O’Brian’s perfectly paced styling, and bristling every now and then with a challenging word or two.

and forward to the future

I plan to read the last of the series in 2016. Perhaps a review, if warranted. I would like to re-read the entire series over the next few years. If I do, I may write brief reviews for some of the best novels. But don’t worry that there will be twenty forthcoming long, boring reviews of slight historical novels. They aren’t slight.



. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Previous review: Almost No Memory Lydia Davis, some "short fiction"
Next review: Anarchism a VSI
Older review: As You Like It

Previous library review: The Wine-Dark Sea
Next library review: Blue at the Mizzen

[Nelson · Rating 3 out of 5]

For the second time (I think) in the series, O'Brian has written an ordinarily entertaining novel rather than something that achieved a bit more. There are minor lapses here and there. Those who cavil at the leaps in plot and the lingering on what sometimes seem like insignificant details haven't been paying enough attention; O'Brian has done this from the beginning. In the past, the swift refocusing of the narrative on surprising events (or the glossing over of major ones--here, the death of a major character, in a clause, no less) always seemed to serve a larger narrative purpose, illustrating characters through contrast primarily. There is a bit of that here, but not nearly to the extent that the practice had governed the other novels. As ever, it is a cracking good yarn, with the expected mixture of naval suspense, botanizing (here, a lion hunt in the Atlas mountains), and music. But it does seem as if some of the wind has gone out of the sails here, the story merely existing to tell the story and not illustrate some larger sense of who these two main characters and their ever-changing constellation of hangers-on are (and thereby to say something about the human condition generally--for ultimately, that has been O'Brian's aim throughout). Like other readers, I was not fully convinced that Maturin sank his mourning for Diana so completely in pursuing his intelligence aims against Bonaparte. O'Brian, it seems, missed a trick by not having a single-minded Stephen overshoot the mark in his despair and sorrow. Instead, it feels little too much like business as usual. Again, a lesser O'Brian novel is still miles better than a lot of stuff out there and this delivers the basic goods even if it doesn't provide the richer treasures this series so often has brought.

[Jim · Rating 4 out of 5]

The 19th and, unfortunately, the final book in O'Brien's Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin series. This one takes place during the Hundred Days of Napoleon's return to power ending at Waterloo. Not one of the better ones, it does involve an intriguing story of Commodore Aubrey seeking to intercept a
shipment of gold being sent to Napoleon from North Africa. Nobody writes about the sea and sailing ships like O'Brien, who passed away in 2000.
Correction: I understand there's a 20th book, so there's more Aubrey...good!

[Judith Johnson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved it, as richly enjoyable as the 18 preceding novels, but oh! Only one left! (Don’t like reading unfinished works). Think I’m going to bite the bullet and go straight on to Blue at the Mizzen just in case the sky falls on my head before I’ve had that pleasure and joy! After all, one of these days I can reread ‘em all again!

[Neil R. Coulter · Rating 2 out of 5]

Many readers have noted that O'Brian's series declines in quality generally at some point in the second ten books. I agree with that, but The Hundred Days is the first volume where I actually almost wished he'd ended the series earlier. The reason for this is mostly in the opening chapter. The clunky exposition in this first chapter is not especially worse than the lame exposition sections in some (not all) of the other books in the series. But I felt shocked and insulted at the way O'Brian uses this gimmicky introduction to off-handedly mention the death of one of the most important characters in the series. I seriously wondered if I had the books out of order and had missed a volume between the previous one and The Hundred Days. I continued on through the book, expecting some sort of dealing with this death by one or more of the other characters who should've been quite affected. But this grieving is mostly absent, other than some vague references here and there. I just don't understand this at all, and I felt cheated.

The end of the novel features another unexpected death, also of a beloved character (though not as significant as the death just before the story's opening). And again, characters who ought to have been very affected by this death seem to feel very little.

It's a shame that this strange lack of emotion mars a story that otherwise I found interesting enough. The political intrigue is nicely done in this one, if similar to other missions Stephen and Jack have already accomplished. The story could have been at least on par with the books in the second half of the series, if only O'Brian had allowed some real emotion, given some urgency and necessity to this book as a whole. But without that urgency, the book feels cold and unnecessary.

The gimmick of having Stephen ask questions in order to teach the reader something continues to wear thin. At some moments, he actually seems to have learned something about life at sea, but then he'll ask some question that surely he must have asked before. After all these years sailing with Jack, can Stephen really not yet have figured out the payment of prize money?? Come on.

So now on to the final finished book of the series, with hopes for something more substantial than The Hundred Days.

My reviews of the Aubrey/Maturin series:

Master and Commander

Post Captain

H.M.S. Surprise

The Mauritius Command

Desolation Island

The Fortune of War

The Surgeon's Mate

The Ionian Mission

Treason's Harbour

The Far Side of the World

The Reverse of the Medal

The Letter of Marque

The Thirteen-Gun Salute

The Nutmeg of Consolation

Clarissa Oakes

The Wine-Dark Sea

The Commodore

The Yellow Admiral

The Hundred Days

Blue at the Mizzen

21

[Malacorda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sempre squisito e sempre rinfrancante, forse per la primissimissima volta mi è sembrato che abbia perso un qualcosina della sua consueta super-brillantezza: ma del resto, arrivati a questo punto (dicesi anche: diciannovesimo episodio su una serie di 20 episodi e mezzo), il puro affetto è perfettamente in grado di perdonare nonché sopperire (finanche negare ostinatamente) difetti ben più gravi della semplice perdita di lucentezza dello smalto. E in virtù di questo affetto, la mia opinione ha smesso di essere obiettiva e imparziale già da un bel pezzo.

Dunque, voglio infinitamente bene a O'Brian e a tutti i suoi personaggi anche se qui, pur ritrovando il pattern abituale, mi è mancato il consueto guizzo che sapesse rinnovarne la freschezza. E tuttavia, è stato pur bello passare qualche giorno a zonzo per la mediterranée. Bello anche il fatto che, all'interno della saga, ci sia uno specifico episodio che si apre con la fuga di Napoleone dall'Elba e che si conclude con l'arrivo delle notizie da Waterloo. E infine, bello nonostante due morti inaspettate, due personaggi presenti sin dall'inizio e che qui hanno bruscamente dovuto dire addio.

[Jason Koivu · Rating 4 out of 5]

This might be the most tragic book in the series, if you've read the books from the beginning. The deaths that occur are shocking for O'Brian's Britishly stoic way of relaying the passing of characters that readers will have taken to heart by now.

[Phillip Fuller · Rating 4 out of 5]

This installment of the series involves stopping a plot by Shiite Muslims who are allied with Napoleon to send an army of mercenaries to split the Austrian and Russian armies. The plot involves funding this venture with gold smuggled in by Barbary corsairs and our heroes are the men to stop it. Stephen Maturin enlists the aid of a Jewish doctor with great linguistic skills and knowledge of this part of the world in this quest. The doctor Amos Jacob is able to track the movements of the ship full of gold captained by Murad Reis with his superior intelligence gathering skills. There is much to be said about how Patrick O' Brian recreates the past so vividly for the modern reader but he neglects to use the perspective of the common sailor. Many of his men were pressed into service against their will and are regarded as unimportant. I guess that was how the class system was back in the days of Aubrey and Maturin.

[Robert · Rating 5 out of 5]

As others have noted here and elsewhere this was an...unusual entry in O'Brian's long-running saga, but still nothing quite like it as an audiobook experience. One more (complete) novel to go...

[Terry · Rating 3 out of 5]

As we come nearer to the end of the Aubrey-Maturin cycle we also approach the final days of Napoleon’s ascendancy in Europe. In this volume, as evinced by the title, we see Jack and Stephen’s involvement in “the hundred days” when Napoleon escaped from his exile on Elba and attempted to re-take his empire. While peace is undoubtedly a good thing, one would be forced to admit that for career naval captains like Aubrey the reinstatement of hostilities is not an altogether bad thing…especially if his career and political position was precarious at the war’s end. Thus we have Aubrey very happy to forego his ostensible surveying trip to South America (whose real purpose was to aid in local rebellions against Spain) and instead be assigned once more as commodore of a squadron whose aim is to protect the shipping of Britain and her allies and disrupt French ship-building along the Adriatic. For his part, Stephen is assigned an important mission by the Ministry: attempt to uncover the details of a plot by a pro-Buonaparte coalition to fund a mercenary army whose aim is to disrupt the allies’ attempts to meet up and crush the French emperor before he can gain any more support on the continent.

We see that Napoleon’s position is perhaps not quite as certain as the initial surge of support he received would imply: many of the French captains in the Adriatic are wavering in their allegiance, either due to the fact that they truly stand against the emperor, or because they are waiting to see where the main chance lies before declaring their intentions. Aubrey manages to bring several of these captains over to the British side to support the naval endeavours of the allies in Mahon, and otherwise thoroughly disrupts the attempts of the pro-Buonaparte shipbuilders through a combination of naval action and sabotage of the shipyards (effected through the efforts of Maturin and his new assistant surgeon, and fellow intelligence operative, Dr. Amos Jacob). Maturin and Jacob also go to the mainland in order to meet with the local Muslim powers and dissuade them from participating in the aforementioned plot to fund mercenaries working for the French empire, as well as to gain any intelligence they can as to exactly where and when the cache of money earmarked for this can be found.

The main plot of the novel is, as usual, filled out with several side plots that add colour to the tale. In one of these we once again see evidence of Stephen’s kind heart as he finds himself yet again saving a pair of unlucky children: this time Irish twins captured by corsairs being sold in the slave market of Algiers. More significantly there is the fact that as the novel opens we are told in the first few pages, in quite an off-hand manner I might add, that Diana and a parcel of other secondary characters, including Aubrey’s shrewish mother-in-law, have been killed off in a carriage accident! To be fair there was some set up of at least the method involved if not the event itself in a few scenes in previous novels, but I was still taken totally off-guard. To add salt to the wound in the closing pages of the novel we lose the beloved secondary character Barrett Bonden, Aubrey’s loyal coxswain and companion of many an adventure, in a freak mishap during a naval battle and I was most definitely thrown by that one! These are just two of the larger examples of O’Brian’s penchant for having events, often quite major ones, occurring off-page, or in an eye-blink, and I have to say it can be somewhat vexing. That being said this was a satisfying novel in the sequence, though not, I must admit, my favourite.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

I can hardly believe that I only have one and a half Aubrey and Maturin novels left unread. It's unheard of for me to stick with a series for so many books, yet twenty and a half feels like too few. Spending time at sea and on land with Jack and Stephen is a continual delight. The Hundred Days begins with both the dramatic threat of resurgent Napoleon and personal tragedy. The reader learns discreetly of Diana's off-page demise. Stephen is quietly grief-stricken, but luckily has his husband to support him. We are also reassured that he's staying off the hard drugs, although he remains addicted to coffee. Another sudden tragedy occurs at the end, as Barrett Bonden is killed in battle.

Despite this sadness hanging over subsequent events, there are some excellent moments of levity. These include the farcical incident with the narwhal horn leading to Killick's disgrace, varying reactions to Naval puddings ("Frankly, sir, I think that I may die"), Stephen leaving Jack's telescope in the maintop, and the wide-eyed ship's boy ("He is to carry the message to the Commodore, but this is the first time he has ever left Stow on the Wold - he sees wonders on every hand, and I fear he may utterly lose his way"). I must also mention Stephen supplying Jack with an argument to save an officer from execution after being accused of sodomy:

"I repeated your 'No penetration, no sodomy', which floored one and all; although I must say that most of them were glad to be floored. I persuaded the others to find no more than gross indecency."

This is a particularly plotty episode in the adventures of Aubrey and Maturin, as both work to foil Napoleon. There are exciting sea battles, chases, and the ingenious hoisting of a cannon up a cliff to bombard a ship sheltering in an island cove. Equally exciting are political machinations aiming to cut Napoleon off from allies and resources. These require Stephen to spend some time ashore, where he sees wonderful wildlife. Two splendidly described lions are sadly killed in a hunting expedition undertaken for diplomatic purposes. Stephen's sounding out of the Dey rapidly becomes moot after he is murdered. The next Dey doesn't last long either, so I wondered that no-one made a pun about it; "One is only Dey for a day or two" or similar. They probably thought, correctly, that it would be in poor taste.

The theme of slavery's repugnance recurs at several points, as it periodically does in this series. At one point the Surprise crew observe with horror as chained galley slaves are thrown overboard to drown from the ship they pursue; at another Stephen comes across a pair of Irish children who have been enslaved. O' Brian is very skilled at showing cruelties in their historical context and making clear that they were deplored at the time. This is an exciting and eventful instalment in the series, with fewer quiet moments than some and a fascinating connection to historical events. I turned to The Hundred Days because the two books I'd started were proving hard going. Aubrey and Maturin novels can always be relied upon to immediately absorb, entertain, and delight.

[Clemens Schoonderwoert · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this book in 2009, and its the 19th superb volume of the magnificent "Aubrey/ Maturin" series.

Its AD 1814, and after Napoleon has escaped from Elba he's gone on the rampage throughout Europe to win all, and settling it all will be at the Battle of Waterloo of AD 1815.

Before that will happen Napoleon has won some victories, making the Muslim community in the East alert in helping Napoleon militarily and financially.

On it way to Napoleon is a horde of gold ingots from Sheik Ibn Hazm, and that will arrive in North Africa, and for Jack Aubrey once more the chance to excel himself for the British Navy.

At all costs Aubrey and Maturin have to intercept that gold to help the rest of Europe in their struggles and battles against a ferocious Napoleon.

What is to follow is an amazing and delightful seafaring adventure, with Aubrey and Maturin in the ascendancy for the British Navy and thus rescuing Europe from further danger, and all this is brought to us by the author in his own authentic and entertaining way.

Highly recommended, for this is another splendid addition to this fabulous series, and that's why I like to call this episode: "A Marvellous Hundred Days"!

[Captain Sir Roddy, R.N. (Ret.) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have to say reading this novel resulted in a bit of a shock to me. Patrick O'Brian uses deus ex machina to address some apparent 'loose ends,' and I shan't say anything further to spoil it for the reader. Superbly plotted and deftly written, "The Hundred Days" refers to the period of time between Napoleon's escape from exile on Elba to his subsequent defeat on the battlefield of Waterloo in June 1815 by the Allies. In that same time frame, our intrepid Royal Navy Captain, Jack Aubrey, now made Commodore, is gallivanting about the Mediterranean Sea harassing French ships and ports; whilst Stephen Maturin is involved in some sensitive diplomatic and intelligence activities in Algiers, mixed in with his usual bit of bird-watching and 'botanizing.' There's even some lion-hunting; and, of course, lots of exciting naval action too. An excellent and most worthy addition to this sublime series.

[Dan · Rating 5 out of 5]

It seems that O'Brian got tired of two old and important characters, and thus killed them here. Probably O'Brian is already contemplating some replacements. Napoleon and France are back in the war, a new friendly spy joins Stephen, some political intrigues are developing in Eastern Mediterranean, an old enemy dies and a new one appears, a fabulous treasure is captured, and Jack ends up in the arms of a new woman that promises more troubles for him ahead. The mood and the luck of the entire ship moves from neutral, to high, to low, and then finally to very high – as Stephen brings on board a “hand of glory” and a narwhal horn, as the hand is eaten by a dog and the horn broken by Killick, and as the two are somehow restored to their previous status.

[Matthew · Rating 5 out of 5]

Another great one.

[Robert · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's been a while and I'd forgotten about O'Brian's delicious prose. Delicious prose like ice-cream that's full of flavour and goes down smoothly. Prose that makes a statement. Makes a statement then repeats it, expanding upon it. Prose that really is way harder to imitiate than it looks...

It was a bit of a shock to find Aubrey and Maturin had not only escaped the magically extended 1812 (authors are the gods of their creations and can do anything) but had arrived in 1815 without any apparent intervening time. And they're off to North Africa for political shenanigans and anti-Napoleonic naval action.

There are some surprises here and new destinations, amazing for book 19 of a series that's circum-navigated the globe several times over - this is neither the best nor the worst entry and if you've got this far, surely you both know what to expect and are going to stick it out through the 20th and final book...

[Gilly McGillicuddy · Rating 5 out of 5]

What I wrote in my LJ while actually reading it:

Warning: heavy spoilers!

Do you know what the best remedy is for post-mooting depression? Preserved Killick. God, that man cracks me up. I'm about page 150 in The Hundred Days.
And have just reached Stephen's little adventure in the rigging trying to get Jack's telescope back. Oh, they crack me up sometimes.

The last thing that happened was us sailing past a whole lot of burning harbours, with the sailors kind of resenting their prize money being burnt, and Jack's wee speech about rather seeing an enemy ship burn than a midshipman getting killed. Like I could possibly love that man more. <3 Sigh.

________

Page 200 now and I'm ehr... I'm missing Jack. A lot. Is it bad I'm missing him after not having seen him for less than fifty pages? God, what am I going to do when I finish this series?

I'm liking both the Vizier and the Dey, though, so that's good. Jacob... meh. Kind of indifferent toward him. He needs to cheer up a bit and maybe I'll like him. Maybe. I'm not sure yet.

*sigh* I miss Martin, too. I wonder if he'll ever come back. And I want to know what happened to Pullings and Mowett and Babbs. I fret too much.

I'm also still wondering at Stephen's ability to get over Diana's death so smoothly; I'm sure it still hurts, but he's reverted back to being -- more or less -- a fully functional human being.

O'Brian doesn't seem to like to describe people's reactions to death. First he skipped a few years and avoided Jack's reaction to Nelson's death (and with such an emotional creature as Jack, I'm sure he must have suffered), and now he skipped Diana. Nothing on how Stephen found out, nothing on his decision to bury her with the Blue Peter, just "the sort of frigid indifference to virtually everything". I don't know. I just thought he'd suffer more. Insidian wrote in one of her SPAM posts, that it seemed as if Stephen was playing the part of Stephen, and I agree with that for the beginning of the book, but not anymore. He's mostly just himself again, now.

Of course, I've already my suspicions of him and Mrs Wood, because of something Rosamundeb said ages ago (which also made me keep a close eye on Mrs Wood the first time she popped up). I hope life will finally go the right way for Stephen Maturin now.
_____________

So. The Hundred Days. Um. I'm at the point where Jack's very slowly headed toward Gibraltar to meet with Lord Barmouth.

Stephen bought some kids. I just... Where are the days when he'd think children superfluous and annoying? Personally I have to admire the man for having five children now (if you include Emily and Sarah, which I do) and skipping the baby part with each of them. No stinky diapers for YOU, Dr Maturin.

Seriously I was so amused, and thank God for the diversion from political stuff.

And then to the Ringle to meet with Reade, back to JACKOMG, and then meeting up with Dundas. I couldn't be happier. Also Jacob pwned Stephen at one point. That made my day.

Oh, and Geoghegan is alive again. Geoghegan, the gorgeous little oboe player that you loved in the five pages that you knew him and then DIED. He's back. O'Brian may have a knack for killing off his midshipmen, but at least it's only temporarily. *snickers* Seriously, O'Brian, like we wouldn't notice a boy with a name like that popping back up. And this is the second one already! Also Wetherby from the last book is now Witherby. Why? I don't know.

So yes. Stephen bought kids. I hope he isn't going to try 'n dump them at Mrs Broad's again.

Oh, and one thing I didn't understand. Jack, Stephen and Bonden are all in the foretop watching Hen's ship sail toward them, and they set a fore-and-aft skyscraper sail that Jack thinks is a bit OTT. Jack asks Bonden has he ever seen such a thing. Bonden says no, but he has seen a square sail above the royal once and "it being square we called it a moonsail". What does a moon have to do with squares? O.O Bonden, you are not making sense!

Tomorrow we fight! Wheehoo! MONEYMONEYMONEY! Lots of it.

*sings The Proclaimers' "Follow The Money"*

__________

So I finished The Hundred Days. So many good things that happen in the end, money, flirting, naked man-handling, and you know? I never stopped crying during any of it. I still haven't stopped.

O'Brian, you bastard.

[Joshua Rigsby · Rating 4 out of 5]

Patrick O'Brian is close to the end of the series with this book. There are only one and a half books left and a little bit of the shine and luster have faded. Relatively important characters suddenly die off with very little explanation or impact on the story, Maturin has strangely come to understand the names of sails and the comparative values of different vessels, and much of the narrative involves espionage and the preparations for espionage instead of old fashioned cannon thumping and swashbuckling.

That said, by this point in the series, I am not coming to these stories for much plot. I read them because I enjoy the characters. The books could be filled with chapters of Aubrey and Maturin discussing their newly acquired sheets of music, or philosophizing or naturalizing, or simply bobbing on the sea discussing the merits of naval discipline, it doesn't matter much to me anymore. The friendship of the two lead characters is utterly enjoyable and comfortable that I don't really care what they do anymore, I'm game to sit back and listen.

A few things occurred to me as I read this book. The first is how myopic Americans tend to be when it comes to world history. As much of the Napoleonic wars don't involve the United States (other than the lucrative Louisiana Purchase) we don't dwell on them much, or appreciate how truly international they were in scope. In a very real way these were dress rehearsals for the World Wars. Secondly, even though much of the narrative involves Maturin on land, doing very little that involves the sea, it was still enjoyable. Maturin is such a cosmopolitan, a polyglot, a learned man, yet also such a self-effacing character, you can't help liking him, or even wanting to be like him.

All told this story has begun to wind the series down, but for the diehard fan it won't matter much, these guys are just nice to be around.

http://joshuarigsby.com

[Gavin · Rating 3 out of 5]

The cracks finally show here. It’s O’Brian’s own mourning book apparently. Still good, still fantastically subtle alongside its cannonfire (witness Lady Clifford’s reaction to children).

At one point it looks like it’ll be another genre entirely, what with the land crossings, the fearsome order of literal Assassins who must be deprived of their blood money and the triple-crossing of wily pashas.

Great fun with sailor superstitions:

“There is the rope, of course. He can get half a crown an inch for a rope that hanged a right willain. And there are the clothes, bought by them that think a pair of pissed and shitten breeches …’
‘Now then, Killick,’ cried Poll, ‘this ain’t one of your Wapping ale-houses or knocking-kens, so clap a stopper over that kind of talk. “Soiled linen” is what you mean.’
‘… are worth a guinea, for the sake of the luck they bring. But most of all it is the Hand of Glory that makes the hangman so eager for the work. Because why? Because it too is worth its weight in gold … well, in silver.’
‘What’s a Hand of Glory?’ asked the nervous voice.
‘Which it is the hand that did the deed – ripped the young girl up or slit the old gentleman’s throat – and that the hangman cuts off and holds up. And our Doctor has one in a jar which he keeps secret in the cabin and looks at by night with his mate, talking very low.”

“Do not take me for a bloody-minded man, Stephen, a death-or-glory swashbuckling cove. Believe me, I had rather see a first-rate burnt to the waterline than a ship’s boy killed or mutilated.”

The utterly abrupt death of Bonden, and the almost complete lack of public reaction to it, is too moving and outraging. 19 books of him - more depth to this tertiary character than most protagonists - and off he goes. O’Brian’s nihilistic treatment of him is the most artful moment in the book, since it gets a rise out of us while making its point. I won’t forget. All Jack allows himself is that he was “an admirable sailor”, as opposed to a devoted and comic and comically virtuous complete man.

“The doctors are going ashore,’ said Joe Plaice to his old friend Barret Bonden.
‘I don’t blame them,’ said Bonden. ‘I should like to see the sights of Spalato myself. I dare say they are going to burn a candle to some saint.’
‘That’s a genteel way of putting it,’ said Plaice.

At six bells in the middle watch, when all the larboard and most of the starboard guns had been drawn and reloaded with powder that Jack kept for saluting, the doctors came back. They were kindly helped up the side by powerful seamen and they crept, weary and bowed, towards their beds.
‘Wholly shagged out,’ said the gunner’s mate. ‘Dear me, they can’t hardly walk.’
‘Well, we are all of us human,’ said the yeoman of the sheets.”

[Renee M · Rating 5 out of 5]

The one where Barrett Bonden breaks your heart.

Perhaps the most beautifully subtle of the series. The Hundred Days begins the task of spinning the series toward what I think would have been its inevitable close. We have the death of long-standing and beloved characters, and the retirement of others. This Jack and Stephen are older, more experienced, and more scarred by their lifetime of war, intrigue, and the experience of living as fully as they have. Given this glimpse, I grieve the truncation of this amazing series and how O’Brian might have brought it to a masterly close.

[Cherie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't think this story was as good as the last, but brought back fond memories of previous battles and stories. I will miss Bonden.

[Ryan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Diana is dead.

Bonden is dead. Bonden should've gotten more attention, I feel, given that he's been here since book 1.

...and now I have given them both as much attention as O'Brian did (one and two sentences respectively). Even for a fellow as clipped and elliptical as O'Brian frequently is, it floors me that that's literally all we got. Diana was off-screen even -- on page 4 some no-name guy goes "did you hear that Stephen's wife died in a carriage accident?" That's all she gets. Bonden gets "The shot came over the waves and killed Bonden." and then a page or two later "Bonden's death upset Jack deeply, of course...[but he's gonna focus on other stuff and not even mention it again]". That's it. That's the sum total.

It was a good book, more of the usual told in its usual rollicking way, with opportunities for both to shine. I don't have the energy for a full review of this one but...

no malaporpoise. There had better be one in the finale or I will hang someone from a yardarm.

[Kathryn · Rating 1 out of 5]

Definitely a disappointment--this one fell really flat. It felt disordered, improbable, and apathetic. Lots of conflicting and repeated details, not to mention very little action or real character development and virtually no humor. And then of course there are the deaths. I noticed long ago that O'Brian is possibly the worst author ever for handling death. He just doesn't know how to confront it and make it human. Diana's death (or, more specifically, Stephen's reaction to it) is the closest he comes in the entire series, but even that is deeply lacking. And then there's Bonden . . . Complete indifference from O'Brian, and a reaction from Jack that is entirely inconsistent with the character and the history of his relationship with Bonden (remember how worried he was after the boxing match?). Depending on the quality of Blue at the Mizzen, I think O'Brian should either have stopped with Yellow Admiral or gone straight from Yellow to Blue (and then we could still have Diana and Bonden into the bargain). Just poor writing all around.

[Craig a.k.a Meatstack · Rating 4 out of 5]

Patrick O'Brian, you Son of a B

How can you just kill off one of the most beloved characters in this series, and brush it aside like nothing happened?

I get that sudden death is a fact in the British Navy of the Napoleonic wars, but that was ludicrous. I can't believe that, and I'm trying not to spoil the "who" involved, Jack and Steven would have just moved on like he was a landsman.

Ok, I'm done venting. Maybe not...

Here's the problem. This story isn't the most succinct of the series. it's sort of meanders through the book. So, when a critical moment happens, like this unforeseen death, I found myself really in a daze, and not focused on the rest of the story.

It's the same thing I've complemented the author on in the past. But of all the 2nd tier characters in this series, a little more love should have been given here.

[Fritz Schneider · Rating 5 out of 5]

I cannot tell you how much I love this series. I've been rationing it -- I saved two of the last four for my honeymoon. I'm debating when and how to consume the last two.

These books are awesome -- funny, with great characters. If you're just starting out ask someone who's read them before to give you a little primer on what to pay attention to...

[Alex Sarll]

I've been putting this one off, partly because O'Brian's books seem too much like the sort of thing Brexiteers might like. Indeed, I sort of meant to read it while Rory Stewart was still a thing - one can easily picture him as a well-meaning but gawky midshipman under Aubrey. But I was listening to Al Murray's BBC take on Vanity Fair at the time, and after a rash of Second World Wars in my reading, I didn't want to be equally burned out by Waterloos. The other reason, though - as I was saying recently when a retired admiral asked what I liked to read, because sometimes it's very easy to guess at shared interests - is that here, time restarts. O'Brian is very accurate to his period in most respects, but there's not enough of it, so with a little legerdemain he had 1812-14 last for about a decade. But at the end of the previous book, the clock began ticking again with news of Napoleon's escape, and after this there's only a book and a fragment left (though given I started midway, I can of course go back to the start and round to where I came in). I suppose I was also a little worried that some strings might be pulled to get Jack and Stephen to the Low Countries so they could be in at the death, but I should really have trusted O'Brian more; that's the sort of bullshit other historical fiction writers pull. Instead, we follow a frankly unlikely - which is to say, quite possibly based directly on history, because that's how history rolls - side-quest to stop the Assassins disrupting the allied forces, while also engaging in a spot of sabotage en route (and yes, I am picturing a Beastie Boys video reenacted in full naval uniform right now). But O'Brian being O'Brian, this is often background to tense comedies of manners, chunks of just-about-plausible exposition on whatever takes his fantasy, and a surprisingly involved subplot about a narwhal tusk. Once again, he's bumped off a major character between books; once again, he introduces a character who is obviously on the autism spectrum, never mind the book taking place long before that was an identified thing, because so what? And if you've never read him, all of this makes it sound like the book should be an ungainly mess of a thing, yet somehow he's good enough that she sails as well as the Surprise.

I still find it bloody odd that he named himself after Plastic Man, though.

[Sid Nuncius · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is now my third time reading through this brilliant series and I am reminded again how beautifully written and how wonderfully, addictively enjoyable they are.

Following the Peace and paying off of much of the Royal Navy, Napoleon has escaped from Elba and war is again upon Jack and Steven. They and the Surprise find themselves ordered to the Mediterranean again to harass and thwart Bonaparte’s plans to build more ships and reinforce his troops in Europe. There is plenty of action, plenty of political intrigue (perhaps in a tad too much detail at times) and, of course, Steven’s pursuit of natural philosophy wherever he finds himself. It’s another fine, absorbing instalment. It begins, too, with a masterstroke of storytelling as we learn of the death of a significant character which has taken place offstage, as it were, since the end of The Yellow Admiral. It is rather like a Greek Chorus and is remarkably effective and affecting.

Patrick O'Brian is steeped in the period of the early 19th Century and his knowledge of the language, manners, politics, social mores and naval matters of the time is deep and wide. Combined with a magnificent gift for both prose and storytelling, it makes something very special indeed. The books are so perfectly paced, with some calmer, quieter but still engrossing passages and some quite thrilling action sequences. O'Brian's handling of language is masterly, with the dialogue being especially brilliant, but also things like the way his sentences become shorter and more staccato in the action passages, making them heart-poundingly exciting. There are also laugh-out-loud moments and an overall sense of sheer involvement and pleasure in reading.

I cannot recommend these books too highly. They are that rare thing; fine literature which are also books which I can't wait to read more of. Wonderful stuff.

[Mythlee · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was good, though not my favorite.

Interesting interactions with a culture marked by double-crossing, ruthless violence, and slavery.

"There was not a hand aboard who had not seen one of the rowers – slave or unransomable captive – thrown screaming into the sea, the bloody sea, and there was not one who did not hate and loathe those that did it." (p. 269)
Certainly, by the time they gain the upper hand (thereby inducing the enemy to slay their leader and surrender), they are more than wary enough to sniff out opportunities for betrayal. Dr Jacob won't give himself away by appearing or translating, so the enemy send forward several British subjects as go-betweens. Those men's status is a little ambiguous, perhaps – they were captured and bear whip marks, but were still "in" enough not to be jettisoned with the slaves – but they recognize an opportunity for redemption and escape and do their part to disarm the rest.

There's also something interesting about Lady Clifford's immediate refusal, in Algiers, to take in two Irish children Stephen has purchased to send home to their families, ostensibly because her husband the consul could not abide children. This is contrasted with Lady Keith's near-immediate decision to put them up with with her chief gardener's family.

[Patrick · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Hundred Days is the novel that Patrick O’Brian would always have had to write at some stage. He had prolonged the Napoleonic wars (perhaps unnecessarily) over some eighteen novels, so at some stage he would have to come to the remarkable coda to that conflict: back in 1815 Bonaparte, having escaped from his exile on the island of Elba, raised a massive land army that would only be stopped with finality at Waterloo. But the author is in an odd position here of having to find Aubrey and Maturin something to do at sea in a period when the most spectacular of the naval engagements had perhaps already passed.

Still, this is a novel packed with incident and action. The previous book, The Yellow Admiral, was very much a middling, intermediate novel — a necessary wedge to fit a historical lull — and by comparison this attempts something like a return to the classic form of these stories. The only difference is that Aubrey is once again in charge of a squadron rather than cutting out on his own again. He is perpetually busy, freighted with anxieties (and still concerned he will never be made a full admiral), but at least he is hard at work.

The plot is a bit too tangled to be worth summarising, but it revolves around the interception of a boatload of gold intended to pay for mercenaries intended to aid Napoleon. This is an excuse for a pretty decent series of naval engagements: Aubrey searches for unfriendly ports to harass, while Stephen is privileged with a lengthy trip to Algiers. Like most of his spying expeditions this ends up being more about the wildlife viewed along the way. There is an especially silly sequence involving a lion. The writing is pretty good throughout, though I marked fewer passages in this novel than in earlier books; there aren’t quite so many moments of quiet radiance, though it is often still quite funny. But this book is notable in the series for a couple more reasons.

(Significant spoilers to follow.)

The novel is bookended with the deaths of two of the most significant characters in the entire series. Diana, Stephen’s wife, is killed when her carriage overturns in a sequence that occurs off-stage, before the novel begins. (Mrs Williams, Aubrey’s mother-in-law, also dies in the same accident. As far as I can tell nobody mourns her; she is one of O’Brian’s most wicked and unpleasant creations.) And at the end of the book, Barrett Bonden is killed by a lucky cannonball in a skirmish. Bonden has been part of the crew in, I think, almost all of these novels; he is the most familiar, friendly face amongst them all, and he is done away with in a couple of lines.

The courtship between Diana and Stephen is wonderfully conveyed in the early books, but I think O’Brian never knew quite what to do with their relationship in married life. For too long she has been at a distance. We are told that after her death, Stephen was inconsolable for a time; but we are told it in the space of a handful of lines, rather than shown it. By the time the narrative catches up with him he is much the same as ever. Subsequent references to his loss are subtle and slight, but they are there. The author is never one to indulge in anything so vulgar as emotional confrontation. Above all, it’s important that Stephen is never actually impaired by grief while at sea. That he is never less than totally capable in his role is somehow the most important thing.

I’m sure I’ve written this before in my assessments of these books but it is worth repeating that domestic relations of a meaningful sort between men and women barely exist in these novels. There are no families in the conventional sense. The naval life is constantly represented as an effective surrogate for the comforts of home, while any return to house and kin is always tinged with discomfort, regret. Think of how Aubrey’s home in England is still peopled by Killick and the best part of his crew, who ensure everything is ship-shape though all are far from the ocean. It’s a strange sort of communitarian discipline, free from the more authoritarian aspects of military life: think of the endless cricket matches while they wait for HMS Surprise to be patched up down in Shelmerston, the sailors so perpetually grateful in their employment they become chummy, avuncular, even paternal.

Bonden was, of course, the archetype of all of these qualities. His death might be the most shocking thing that happens in any of these novels. As a rule Aubrey and Maturin have been splendidly lucky in terms of risks to life and limb. This is as far as you can get from the Game of Thrones tendency in fiction; there are sudden deaths in this series, but the only losses are of bit-players, mostly those who only pop up for one or two novels. Bonden is always omnipresent, unflappable, and infinitely proficient. But now Bonden is gone in the work of a moment. A few spare lines of regret are afforded his demise, which is described only in the clipped tones of a newspaper report. We could say that Aubrey regrets his loss, but he isn’t mourned. I suppose that would be inappropriate.

A final thought about Diana. While I’m sure such accidents were common at the time, her death has an air of terrible, distant unreality about it. Part of this is perhaps because it is reported in an off-hand conversation between men with no personal connection to her. Still, there’s a trope common to TV and film today that can be summarised as: ‘If you don’t see the body, they aren’t dead’, and so initially I thought that if O’Brian had continued the series for another few novels, Diana might be found to be less dead than we supposed. But O’Brian was never an author to set traps for his readers in this way. And then I went back to my edition and noticed, in one of Stephen’s rare asides, a mention that Diana had been buried with her great unmatchable blue diamond. This feels fairly final.