The Man who was Saturday – Patrick Bishop

The eponymous subject of this biography is Airey Neave, best known (if only to older generations) for his escape from Colditz in 1942 and his political assassination in 1979. Patrick Bishop sets out to fill the gap before and between these bookends.

There is early posh boy stuff – Eton, Cambridge, Officer Training Corps, an incipient career at the Bar – before war broke out and a commission in the Army. Caught up in the defence of Calais, he was captured and became a prisoner of war, eventually ending up in Colditz. His escape from there gets a good airing, followed by his subsequent role running agents in occupied Europe assisting escaped and stranded (mainly) airman get back home. Whence his codename of Saturday.

Post war, he combined his legal work with continuing, unofficial, work with the secret services, until becoming (Conservative) Member of Parliament for Abingdon. The political life is touched on, largely unexciting, even against the backdrop of the Heath – Wilson years and the miners’ strikes. But then he finds himself managing Margaret Thatcher’s leadership bid, and landing (by choice) the role as Shadow Secretary of State for Northern Ireland.

His outspoken, uncompromising views on how to meet the terrorist threat marked him as a threat, particularly as the 1979 election promised to catapult the Conservatives into power. Before that could happen, the INLA planted a car bomb that exploded, spectacularly, as Neave drove out of the Houses of Parliament car park.

It is a readable account of a life that maybe peaked early and ended prematurely. But between those notable bookends, it seems unremarkable, and Bishop fails to make it seem otherwise.

The Wager – David Grann

The context: 1740 and the rivalry between the British and the Spanish empires has boiled over into war, the splendidly named War of Jenkins’ ear.

The mission: as a sideshow to the main theatre of conflict in the Caribbean, a British naval squadron are to set sail south, round Cape Horn, and harry Spanish ships and settlements on the Pacific coast of South America and the route to the Philippines, the main prize being the twice yearly galleon carrying untold riches of silver across the ocean.

The ships: four state of the art men-of-war – The Centurian, The Gloucester, The Pearl, and the Severn, plus a converted East Indiaman merchant vessel, The Wager.

The men: around two thousand on board the vessels, sailors, soldiers, and support staff such as surgeons, cooks, carpenters and the like. Among the key players in the drama to unfold are, aboard The Centurian, Captain George Anson, Commodore of the fleet, and First Lieutenant David Cheap, destined to be promoted to Captain of The Wager; aboard The Wager from the offset are sixteen-year-old midshipman John Byron, and a capable gunner, John Bulkeley.

The events: well, they have to be read to be believed, so no spoilers here. Sufficient to say they include sea battles, storms, scurvy, and survival of some to tell the tale.

Grann tells that tale rather brilliantly, using archive material and his fine writing style to compress some tasty nuggets of eighteenth century naval life and several years of adventure into a tight, gripping narrative of just 250 pages.

Read, marvel, and enjoy.

The Satanic Verses – Salman Rushdie

So, two blokes, Indian actors, not friends but acquaintances, rivals maybe, are in a hi-jacked aeroplane over the English Channel. The terrorist bomb is exploded, the plane breaks up, and the passengers are scattered to the winds to perish.

But not these two. Gibreel Farishta and Saladin Chamcha fall to earth on the shores of the Channel, landing gently enough to survive, though changed. Gibreel seems to have become an angel with a halo, while Saladin soon begins to show satanic signs, growing horns, hooves, and a tail.

Some inevitably odd adventures ensue in the English countryside and then in London. The initial physical changes disappear but psychological scars remain. More things happen in London, involving Gibreel, Saladin, various women of their acquaintance, and names and faces from the Indian film industry.

Periodically, the narrative switches to another place, another time. Is it Gibreel’s vision, memory, or imagination? Who knows! But it seems to be a parody (disrespectful for some, as events subsequent to publication testify) of the early history of the Islamic religion.

Another interlude in the narrative and location introduces a young woman, dressed in butterflies, leading a pilgrimage from India to Mecca that will involve passage, on foot, across the Arabian Sea. It was unclear to me how this episode fits in with things.

And so it goes on to a reckoning of some sort involving Saladin Chamcha and his estranged father.

Okay, it is magic realism, but I have three problems. One, in general, telling what is real and what is magic. Two, in this book, my relative ignorance of Islam and Indian culture and politics, probably meant there were satirical references that failed register. Three, the prose is dense, and the sentence construction is often unconventional or experimental, making it difficult to follow at times. Reading should not be such hard work.

This was read as part of my Book-et List reading journey – as a book I felt I ought to read. If you haven’t read it yet, my advice is don’t bother. After 550 pages I’m none the wiser as to its status as either literary genius or blasphemous tripe.