Elizabeth - David Starkey

David Starkey – Elizabeth (2000)
Biography – 340 pages – my copy (2001; paperback) bought for 1 penny from Amazon in August 2011
- 3 nods out of 5 -



Let’s get this straight: David Starkey is a pompous ass. For those who have watched his many upon many history documentaries, as well as his comments on the likes of Question Time (and more recently and controversially on Newsnight) you will agree with the Worm’s initial and cemented assessment of the man. That smugness, that air of haughty disdain for others, that general permeation of snobbery all confirms this. But we cannot take an enduring contribution of his: the great outpouring on Tudor history.

British television has few recognisable historians (Schama and Ferguson are a couple of others), and perhaps Starkey is the Big Cheese of them all. (Pomposity, it seems, has its advantages.) He has produced a long list of works on the hundred years of Tudor rule, and here, under the Worm’s spotlight, is Elizabeth: his treatment of the early years of Elizabeth The Very First in the mid sixteenth century, all before she became queen.

Like his documentaries, the book is divided in many small, bite-sized chapters, including Elizabeth’s childhood; the death of her father, Henry VIII; her reputed dalliances with her stepmother’s new husband; the death of her brother Edward VI; the possible plots against her sister, Mary; the battle between Protestantism and Catholicism; concluding on her settlement on coming to the throne in the late 1550s.

As to be expected with any biography, there is a fair amount of padding in Elizabeth’s earlier childhood years. Starkey is keen to place great emphasis on small events (including the detail and emotion of her handwriting, p.49); but more to the point of settling historiographical scores. The conjecture is great, but also great is the amount of detail.

The book gets into its stride with the death of Elizabeth’s brother, Edward the boy-king, and the resulting large shadow of doubt and deceit this caused. It seemed for a short while that both Elizabeth and bigger sister Mary were to be shunned from the crown in favour of the Protestant Lady Jane Grey, before Mary seized the throne and put to death all those who opposed her: and very nearly Elizabeth herself. It is one of British history’s greatest What Ifs on a possible heir of Mary and Philip, and what this would have meant from Catholicism on these isles.

All together, Starkey does an admirable job on Elizabeth’s formative years. For those who wish to gain a greater understanding of the queen, then they must search into the inner girl: of those insecurities and childhood struggles. However, it would be disingenuous to say Starkey provides the definitive biography on this period; that honour surely belongs to the efforts of a future historian. It seems being a pompous ass only gets someone so far. But, then again, he is our pompous ass. It takes one to know one, after all.

Buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Elizabeth-Dr-David-Starkey/dp/0099286572/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1316858327&sr=1-1

Lord of the Flies - William Golding

William Golding – Lord of the Flies (1954)
Novel – 220 pages – my copy (paperback; 1979) bought for a few pennies in a charity shop a long time ago in a galaxy far away from here – read during August 2011
- 5 nods out of 5 -



The Worm was first introduced to Lord of the Flies in movie form many years ago. The enduring image continues to be that of a large rock falling upon Piggy’s head. In the process Piggy is killed, with the triumph of savagery over progress, of passion against reason, of the id over the ego.

Even those who have not read William Golding’s fantastic novel, many are aware of the story. A group of boys, ranging from six years to twelve years, are left stranded on a desert island. Left to their own devices, at first they continue with the symbols of their previous world – of authority figures (nominating a leader, Ralph; and in the rational mind of Piggy) – but eventually descend into mayhem and chaos. Ralph’s rival, Jack, creates a gang of hunters who consume the island in their philosophical mantra: ‘Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!’

The lack of external authority of a grown-up leads to a breakdown of education and social norms. This is shown nowhere more clearly than in the downfall of Roger – later master executioner for the hunters - as he throws rocks at one of the little ‘uns near the story's beginning:

‘Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policeman and the law. Roger’s arm was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.’

As Ralph is questioned ‘Who cares?’ about breaking the rules, he replies: ‘Because the rules are the only thing we’ve got!’ And even this slips away from the group’s grasp, as common sense and order give way to a feral temptation, as shown in the breaking of the conch – the only symbol of authority left remaining.

And just who is the Lord of the Flies? This is the sow’s head, detached from body and placed upon a stick, who tells Simon: ‘There isn’t anyone to help you. Only me. And I’m the Beast.’ But this is the lord in Simon’s deluded mind. Perhaps the beast has a larger, implicit location – in the unconscious feelings let loose from the children on the island. Like Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, it leaves an unsettling and frightening thought in the mind of the adult reader.

The officer at the book’s end is Ralph’s - and the collective boys – saviour, of all body, mind and soul. As the officer comments upon seeing them: ‘I should have thought that a pack of British boys – you’re all British aren’t you? – would have been able to put up a better show than that.’ Unfortunately for us, the reader, Golding proceeds to over-egg the pudding of the drama with the penultimate paragraph, as Ralph weeps for:

‘The end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy’.

But after such a story we can forgive him this melodrama. Lord of the Flies is a short book, but one filled with emotion, theory and never-ending reflection. A bona-fide 5 nodder, if the Worm ever did see one.


Buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lord-Flies-William-Golding/dp/0571191479

England Under The Tudors - G.R. Elton

G.R. Elton – England Under The Tudors (1955)
History – 490 pages – my copy (paperback; 1991) on loan from University of Plymouth library, during August 2011
- 3 nods out of 5 -



Name England’s most illustrious monarchs of the past. No doubt two of the first on your lips are Henry VIII and Elizabeth, a king and queen of Tudor stock. Henry slept with, divorced and beheaded wives as if they were going out of style, all whilst picking a fight with the pope and spearheading a religious revolution. Elizabeth, his daughter, became the first successful female monarch of this isle, keeping her subjects in check with her tongue, whilst overseeing the defeat of the invading Spanish Armada (a feat continually celebrated over four hundred years today). With two such heavyweights, it is clear to see the Tudor age is not one to be sniffed or trifled with.

In recent decades the Tudors have been in print, on the television and up on the big screen, in various incarnations. The author of this book – England Under The Tudors – researched and wrote in a different time, away from the glamour, sex and violence; to bring this period to the masses of the immediate post-war period.

Elton takes us from the birth of the Tudor dynasty, from the Battle of Bosworth field in 1485 when Henry Tudor became king, to the end when his grand-daughter – Elizabeth – died in 1603. In-between the reader is treated to insight after insight to this period, including the break with Rome, the conflict of religion during ‘the mid-Tudor crisis’, as well as the Armada invasion of 1588. Great characters are placed under the microscope, such as Thomas Wolsey (‘the Great Cardinal’); the philosopher Thomas More; Thomas Cromwell - Henry’s instrument in doing away with Catholicism; as well as all those colourful names during the reign of Elizabeth: Dudley, Cecil, Essex and Raleigh.

But more than the popular history, Elton takes us through much historical debate, as well as concentrating on the ‘price revolution’ (when inflation soared) and the raging religious arguments. The typical truth-searching historian, Elton revises his arguments in later editions, in the 1970s and 1990s. In recent decades this period has gained even greater popularity and historical concentration: as seen in the narrative highlights from Weir and Starkey, as well as the dubious incarnations on the screen (The Tudors, anyone? Thought not!).

Despite an influx of new books and authors, Elton’s history remains readable and enjoyable. Although time will see such views superseded, the future decades will not detract from Elton’s writing style, his cutting comments and will to speak out on the major issues. Such a historian is needed for such an interesting age, to bring the Tudors to life for the modern generations; in this, Mr Elton has surely succeeded.

Buy it here on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/England-Under-Tudors-G-R-Elton/dp/041506533X

Henry VI: Part One - William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare – Henry VI: Part One (1591)
Play – read via the marvellous Shakespeare app for the iPhone during August 2011
- 3 nods out of 5 -

Shakespeare this, Shakespeare that. The old Bard is so highly revered not even the Worm – ever the critical book reader – has so far fallen for his charm of prose. In the past two years the Worm has reviewed the 5 nodder that is Macbeth, mused over the merits of Julius Caesar (4 nods); while even his attacks upon the false and weak love of Romeo and Juliet was withstood (4 nods). Seemingly confirming Shakespeare as a gold standard of English literature.

Which is why the Worm turned to Henry VI: Part One. Amongst the bigger names of the Shakespeare canon, this one is comparative small fish; however, its appearance in the 1590s (along with Parts Two, Three and Richard III) secured the author’s weight as a man of presence and genius. Today it is known as one of his weaker works, with a dispute raging amongst who had a hand in writing what (a debate, the Worm assures you, left alone for Shakespearian scholars!). Perhaps the Bard would slip up under the Worm’s lens.

King Henry VI himself is something of a forgotten character, especially when stood aside other excelling monarchs of the past. He never had the conquering spirit of William, not the marrying zeal of Henry VIII, nor even the manly heart of Queen Elizabeth; Even the madness he displayed has been overshadowed by that of King George III. He was the son of Henry V – yes, he of Agincourt (‘too famous to live long! England ne’er lost a king of so much worth’) - and came to the throne as a minor. His reign was one of instability, leading to the upheaval that has become known as the War of the Roses: Henry was ejected once, regained his throne, only to be chucked in the Tower of London where he was left to die. An odd character to centralise on, but then, Shakespeare is known for the art of drama.

The three parts of the play stretch the entirety of Henry’s life; though, Part One concentrates on the young man, the loss of the French territory that his father had won, as well as the beginning rupture of the houses of York (the white Rose) and that of Lancaster (the red Rose). As is common with many of Shakespeare’s titular plays, the seeming central character has little action and less to say, as happens here with Henry upstaged by the likes of the vengeful Richard of York, Joan of Arc and the heroic Talbot.

On Henry V’s death he became ruler of both England and France. Talbot – ‘the Frenchmen’s only scourge’ is left in France to secure the throne for Henry, and all agree he is the best man for the job: ‘Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man, Of an invincible unconquer’d spirit!’ The French, understandably, are reluctant to bow down and accept such a fact, and on the crowning of Henry VI they revolt under the new and inspired leadership of Joan of Pucelle (aka: Joan of Arc). Joan becomes the nemesis of the English forces, with Talbot marking her appearance in the play: ‘Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; A woman clad in armour chaseth them’.

The subplot running in the background is the gathering storm that will become the Wars of the Roses. Richard recovers his family title of Duke of York, and now bestowed with knowledge that it is his line of descent that is all the more valid than Henry’s, he starts causing a ruckus behind the scenes. The Duke of Warwick ominous predicts a riot:

‘And here I prophesy: this brawl today,
Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden,
Shall send between the Red Rose and the White
A thousand souls to death and deadly night’

The two antagonists of both clans – Richard of York and the Duke of Somerset – come to France to help Talbot in the war; however, due to both mistrusting the other, neither comes to Talbot’s help when he becomes overawed by the French forces. As Sir William Lucy reflects: ‘Thus while the vulture of sedition feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss the conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands and all, hurry to loss.’

Talbot’s final battle scene, standing alongside his son, John, is the fitting climax of the play. Both are the courage of an England that is now past, displaying valour and spirit. Talbot sends his son away to carry on the family name, to which John refuses, as he states if he was to run the family name would be worthless. As the French move in, Shakespeare wonderfully dialogues the scene in rhyming couplets:

TALBOT:
Shall all they mother’s hopes lie in one tomb?

JOHN:
Ay, rather than I’ll shame my mother’s womb.

…

TALBOT:
My age was never tainted with such shame.

JOHN
And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?

Both perish in battle and England is forced to recognise the growing power of France. But as Lucy concludes, it is ‘the fraud of England, not the force of France’ that wins the day.

Despite this fantastic climax, alongside more clever word play in the final act between the Duke of Suffolk and Margaret, the play itself is a rather confused affair. The first three acts flit between England and France, between the defence of Henry V’s conquered land and the conflict in the royal court. Richard of York may claim credit in burning Joan of Arc, but aside from that he does little else but bog down the plot. Shakespeare appears overwhelmed the amount of back-story he must plant, due to the impending battles and wars to come between the houses of York and Lancaster.

Of course, the Bard would continue on to cement his name and perfect such short-comings. And even with its slightly negative reviews down the centuries and its obvious imperfections, Henry VI: Part One remains an interesting play. It really does appear that Shakespeare is the gold standard of literature.


Read it here:
http://shakespeare.mit.edu/1henryiv/full.html

Italy: A Short History - Harry Hearder

Harry Hearder – Italy: A Short History (1990)
History – 270 pages – my copy (paperback; 1991) a loan from Plymouth University library, courtesy of Jay – read during August 2011
- 2 nods out of 5 -

The Worm has always had a fondness for a modest title; and there is none more modest than those that claim to be ‘a short history’. Many histories are written with great intentions in mind, of sweeping generalisations, of the great search of the all embracing answer. The short history does not belong to this section. Often there to fill a niche market, it is the quick buck for the publisher and the writing credit for the author.

Of course, modest books make great reads. Harry Hearder’s history of Italy is not one of them. But this is not to say that is does not serve its purpose. In the short space of under three hundred pages the entirety of Italian history is on display: from the Roman Republic right through to the modern republic. Space is found for prehistoric Italy and the arrival of the Greeks and society of the Etruscans, the Risorgimento and the ‘Fascist disaster’. As these mighty periods show, Italian history is far from dull and uninspiring. Within these pages are the deeds of great men, of Cicero and Caesar, of Garibaldi and Cavour, of Mussolini and Medici.

Such events astound the reader and Hearder does a pleasing job of blending in the right characters in the correct chapters. Of course, the Renaissance covered in thirty pages fails to convey its true sense; but as a taster to a fascinating country it ticks the boxes. What puts this history above other rivals is Hearder’s amiable personality and sense of phrase, shown nowhere more clearly than in his description of the cautious Cavour, one of the chief unifiers of Italy in the 1860s: ‘He loved moderation immoderately.’

A modest read with modest intentions. But unlike Churchill’s Clement Attlee, Italian history – no matter how short – has little to be modest about.

The Year of the Flood - Margaret Atwood

Margaret Atwood – The Year of the Flood (2009)
Novel – 500 pages – my copy (paperback; 2010) bought from Waterstone’s in Plymouth during May 2011
- 2 nods out of 5 -



For those who are regular readers of this blog (there are people out there, aren’t there?!) many of you will know the glowing review the Worm have to Atwood’s Oryx & Crake (read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/05/oryx-and-crake-margaret-atwood.html): a fantastic piece of speculative fiction. Its world is our possible future, one full of multi-national corporation horror, of technological wonder and human greed. Such was its impression it made No.8 in my list of Top Ten Reads of 2010-11. So, one can understand the trepidation the Worm reserved for the forthcoming read of this (loose) follow-up.

So, the story? The Year of the Flood follows the intertwining stories of two central characters, Ren (first person perspective) and Toby (third person). Their lives are the countdown to the year of the waterless flood that is the virus transmitted throughout the planet that destroys all human life. Both characters become members of God’s Gardeners, a group of ethical hippies who believe there is a different path to the mainstream, with their leader Adam One preaching of impending doom. We read the countdown to the flood and the resulting fall-out in ominous Year Twenty-Five.

Let’s make one thing clear: if anyone is searching for a neat conclusion to the fate that befalls Snowman at the end of Oryx & Crake, you shall be waiting a long time. Despite it being the same dystopian, rather scary vision, The Year of the Flood lacks the heavyweight punch of its predecessor.

Perhaps it is Atwood’s search to find a female counter-part to this vision of a bleak future that means these two characters take such a central stance, with greater emotion away from Crake’s humanity-less vacuum; but nothing can placate the annoyance that is the Ren character (needy, clingy, rudderless), whilst the substitution of Jimmy’s feeling of loss is not offset by that of Toby’s.

But nothing compares with the irritation of the God’s Gardeners group. Slightly kooky and interesting at first with Atwood’s hymns from their very own Oral Hymnbook, the characters displayed are completely hollow and undeveloped. Even Zeb, the hell raiser of the gang, fails to stir any passion; and it is a pity his breakaway sect isn’t looked into with greater detail, including his dalliance with Crake. Every time we are given an insight into the terrifying world of Oryx & Crake, Atwood seems intent on dragging us back to the emotional needs of Ren, or to the cardboard copy bad-guy that is Blanco.

Like Oryx & Crake, this book ends with a cliff-hanger: ‘We listen. Jimmy’s right, there is music. It’s faint and far away, but moving closer. It’s the sound of many people singing. Now we can see the flickering of their torches, winding towards us through the darkness of the trees.’ And despite the previous five hundred pages of slight annoyance and frustration, the Worm will be sure to buy a forthcoming copy of any future follow-up. Atwood is a master at posing questions; and the Worm is eager to find answers.


Buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Year-Flood-Margaret-Atwood/dp/1844085643/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1314137559&sr=8-1

Visit Atwood’s website here:
http://yearoftheflood.com/uk/

The Rise & Fall of the House of Medici - Christopher Hibbert

Christopher Hibbert – The Rise and Fall of the House of Medici (1974)
History – my copy (paperback; 1985) bought for the staggeringly low price of 50p from Music & Goods Exchange, Notting Hill, sometime in 2008
- 3 nods out of 5 -



Earlier this summer the Worm walked on the very same streets as did Cosimo Medici and Lorenzo the Magnificent. Do these names mean nothing to you, dear reader? Then, perhaps it is time to immerse yourself in the dramatic house of Medici, only of Florence’s premier historic families.

The Medicis were a banking family who obtained bigger depths of wealth and a greater hold of power. In the 1400s Cosimo took control – somewhat ostensibly – in Florence, while his grandson Lorenzo became a patron of the arts, even giving a home to a young Michelangelo. In the 1500s the Medicis became popes in Rome and dukes of Tuscany. Many a-time they were chased out of Florence by ardent republicans, only to return to heal wounds and silence squabbling factions. It was amongst one of these incidents that led Machiavelli to write his world famous The Prince; a book that was to earn his enduring – perhaps unwanted – legacy.

In the 1700s the house was to finally cease: it was one usurpation too many. But it was not the final end of a name that has proven its strength with historians and readers throughout the generations of time; in Florence, one of the world’s great cultural cities, Medici is seen on every street corner. Such fame prompted the historian Christopher Hibbert to write an enlightening and entertaining narrative of this illustrious clan.

Never jaw-dropping, Hibbert proceeds to put in a work-man like performance in his treatment of the Medicis; a poor history was not be expected by the man who has brought countless biographies to the bookshelves, concentrating on English figures in history from the Duke of Wellington to Disraeli. Concentrating primarily on the golden generations of the first Cosimo and Lorenzo (who each have a whole section to themselves), the last two centuries (1537-1743) are crammed into fifty pages. Perhaps the author himself knew too well that usurpation after usurpation was too much for the reader to maintain across three hundred pages of death, plotting and plunder. Yet it is with the earlier Medicis in which the legend lies; after all, Michelangelo didn’t dine with the likes of Cosimo III.

Other books upon the Medicis have come and gone; but Hibbert’s treatment remains a gold standard – in the English language, anyhow – of these characters and their descendents. For anyone who wishes to delve further into Italian history, and wish to understand the city of Florence, Hibbert’s history is a welcome read.


Buy it here on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rise-Fall-House-Medici/dp/0140050906/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313784866&sr=8-1

Read more about the author here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Hibbert

The Velveteen Rabbit - Margery Williams

Margery Williams - The Velveteen Rabbit (1922)
Short Story – read as an app on the iPhone during July 2011
- 3 nods out of 5 -


"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."


And so begins the Velveteen Rabbit’s quest to become real. The rabbit in question is not made of flesh and bone, but rather stuffed of sawdust. The love he seeks is that of a young boy; only for this love to be put in near tragic jeopardy by the book’s end.

Written by Margey Williams, and wonderfully illustrated by William Nicholson, The Velveteen Rabbit has been a favourite with generations ever since its first publication back in 1922. It has its fans within both libraries and those in the media and popular culture. And it is easy to see why when the author writes in such a simple and emotive style, along with the illustrator's amusing and fanciful images, reminding us of another time before modern technology, of Playstations and MTV.

The surprising thing about this book, reading it as an adult, is the way the reader is thrown into the story; as particularly shown in the mocking of our hero by real rabbits that live in the wild:

"He hasn't got any hind legs!" he called out. "Fancy a rabbit without any hind legs!" And he began to laugh.

"I have!" cried the little Rabbit. "I have got hind legs! I am sitting on them!"

"Then stretch them out and show me, like this!" said the wild rabbit. And he began to whirl round and dance, till the little Rabbit got quite dizzy.

"I don't like dancing," he said. "I'd rather sit still!"

But all the while he was longing to dance, for a funny new tickly feeling ran through him, and he felt he would give anything in the world to be able to jump about like these rabbits did.

Imaginative and whimsical, The Velveteen Rabbit is a joy to read throughout. Children books enable the reader – of any age – to step inside a new world and rediscover that element of magic. Although not all children books are able to entertain and play with our emotions to the fine extent as Williams’ short story. Read this story to take yourself away from reality and be prepared to enter another world.


Read it here:
http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/williams/rabbit/rabbit.html

And better yet, buy it here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Velveteen-Rabbit-Margery-Williams/dp/1405210540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313535702&sr=8-1

Year In Review: 2010-11

Well, dear readers, another end to a fine book reading year has come. It was a year in which classic American novels were devoured (The Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby), fine modern works of history read (Postwar, Rubicon), a fine feast of plays enjoyed (from misters Shakespeare and Gogol), much poetry lapped up (from Wilfred Owen to Seamus Heaney), key political texts considered (The Communist Manifesto, Machiavelli’s The Prince, and our old friend Tom Paine) as well as the usual smattering of the odd and damn right silly, including a scenario of Michael Portillo becoming Prime Minister as well as the invention of the toilet.

It is the second year of the Worm’s crusading book reading adventures; but alas, a year that fell short of the first volume in 2009-10. This year fifty-three books were devoured; in the shade to last year’s robust dollop of sixty-eight. The Worm hoists the white flag in submission, but truly believes in quality over quantity: and there was much quality in these pages! So, if we may, we move onto the top ten reads of the past twelve months:


The Top Ten Reads of 2010-11:

1. The Sound & The Fury (1929) – William Faulkner
Breathtaking book that concentrates on the three brothers of the Compson family, and each of their focus and relationships with their sister, Caddy (she of the muddy drawers climbing the pear tree!). A true modernist work of fiction, the Worm strongly urges to buy, beg, steal or borrow a copy today. 5 nods.
Read the review here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/06/sound-fury-william-faulkner.html

2. Common Sense (1776) – Thomas Paine
The book that helped to spark the American Revolution; Paine writes with an intensity and ferocity that all can understand and marvel in. He speaks with compassion for the ideals of democracy, and this pamphlet should be studied in schools across the world. 5 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2010/10/common-sense-thomas-paine.html

3. Poems (1920) – Wilfred Owen
Having found inspiration on the front line during the First World War, Owen wrote a batch of beautify and eye-opening poems before dying the week before Armistice Day in 1918. Tragedy and anguish lay on these pages, confirming Owen’s place as one of our most loved of poets. 5 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/07/poems-wilfred-owen.html

4. The Communist Manifesto (1848) – Karl Marx & Friedrich Engels
One of the key influential political texts of the past one hundred and fifty years, with a banking crisis around us, perhaps it is time to get back up to speed with pals Karl & Friedrich. Their prose still stirs a passion, calling all working men to unite! 5 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2010/09/communist-manifesto-marx-engels.html

5. The Catcher In The Rye (1945) – J.D. Salinger
A novel that excites and inflames all who read it; who cannot resist the efforts of Holden Caulfield to free himself from the grip of the phonies. Salinger’s classic is a must-read of modern literature. 5 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2010/08/catcher-in-rye-jd-salinger.html

6. Postwar (2005) – Tony Judt
Judt encompasses the chaotic and confusing recent decades of European history into one book – and very much succeeds. Postwar is for anybody who wishes to get to obtain a greater understanding of the continent of Europe. 5 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/06/postwar-tony-judt.html

7. Julius Caesar (1599) – William Shakespeare
Follow the trials and tribulations, not of Caesar, but of Brutus and his quest to safe the dying body of the Roman Republic. Shakespeare puts in his usual magic of oratory and gruesome deaths. 4 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/05/julius-caesar-william-shakespeare.html

8. Oryx & Crake (2003) – Margaret Atwood
A disturbing, frightening and yet thoroughly entertaining dystopian vision of a world of genetically modified creatures. With many similarities with previous classic texts such as Brave New World, this stands as a premier Atwood read. 4 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/05/oryx-and-crake-margaret-atwood.html

9. Rubicon (2003) – Tom Holland
Holland has made narrative history “sexy” once again. There is no easier read on the fall of the Roman Republic than this; re-engage with Caesar, Cato and Cicero with the popcorn ready. 4 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/03/rubicon-tom-holland.html

10. The Middle Parts of Fortune (1929) – Frederick Manning
One of the finest books on war ever written. Take not the Worm’s critique, but rather the great stature and recommendation of Hemingway. For anyone wishing to understanding conflict, grab a copy today. 4 nods.
Read it here: http://4eyedbookworm.blogspot.com/2011/01/middle-parts-of-fortune-frederick.html

The above are true classics, and perhaps the Worm feels a tad ashamed in not dishing out 5 nodders across the board for these top tens; but as many of you know, a 5 nodder is a hard fought thing and must surpass all of the Worm’s rigid and scientific nodder tests (kept in a secret laboratory beneath Worm Manor).

Including this top ten, there are honourable mentions for the following that fell just short of the top ten: Angela Carter’s The Passion of New Eve, Seamus Heaney’s collection of poems from 1966-1987, Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven and Nikolai Gogol’s The Government Inspector. Fantastic reads that kept the Worm aloft and full of hope over this past year.

With regards to author loyalty, a few familiar names reappeared (with various results), including Bill Bryson’s slightly disappointing History of Private Life and Bret Easton Ellis’ even more deflating novel The Rules of Attraction. Of course these chaps will return in the year ahead, let’s hope for more generous nods in future. Thank goodness for the recurring reads of Thomas Paine and William Shakespeare, true gold standards of the written word.

The 1 nodder sin-bin was enlarged by some truly terrible reads: Emma Mansfield’s cash-in Little Book of Cornwall and Wallace Reyburn’s dreadful Flushed With Pride. The Shredder Award goes to Michael Williams’ pathetic biography on Prince Charles and his role as Duke of Cornwall. To the bin with you all, foul creatures of the printed page!

And onto the awards of the past year, in what has been styled The Noddies:

Read of the Year:
The Sound & The Fury (1929) – William Faulkner

Novel of the Year:
The Sound & The Fury (1929) – William Faulkner

Short Fiction:
Dubliners (1914) – James Joyce

Play of the Year:
Julius Caesar (1599) – William Shakespeare

Poetry:
Poems (1920) – Wilfred Owen

History:
Postwar (2005) – Tony Judt

Political:
Common Sense (1776) – Thomas Paine

Auto/Biographical:
The Frock Coated Communist (2009) – Tristam Hunt

Local Book:
Cornwall A History (2004) – Philip Payton

Largest Read:
Postwar (2005) at 850 pages

Modest Read:
Charles Duke of Cornwall (1977) at 80 pages

Oldest Read:
The Prince (1532) - Niccolo Machiavelli

Niche Title:
Flushed With Pride: The Story of Thomas Crapper (1969) – Wallace Reyburn

The Shredder Award:
Charles Duke of Cornwall (1977)- Michael Williams.


Hooray for the winners, who will be canonised on this blog and emphasised and promoted to all who come into the path of the Worm.

The Worm will continue to read, to criticise and praise each page of prose that comes his way. A toast to the past two years, and a toast to those years of the future. The retinas are in focus, the four eyes have much life in them yet.

The Government Inspector - Nikolai Gogol

Nikolai Gogol – The Government Inspector (1836)
Play – read on the iBooks app for the iPhone during June 2011
- 4 nods out of 5 -

The Government Inspector is a celebrated Russian classic, with commentators going as far as to label it ‘a national institution.’ It is both comedy and government critique, delighting audiences ever since its first performance in the mid-nineteenth century when Tsar of the time, Nicolas I, is reputed to have commented: ‘How true!’

Gogol’s play follows the misadventures of Khlestakov who is mistaken as a government inspector in a provincial town. Alarm builds in the community as everyone fears a reprisal from the Tsarist government, with the plot of play showing the locals attempts to bribe the mistaken inspector. Such bribes the unscrupulous Khlestakov eagerly accepts.

The play excels as a comedy. Despite the mistaken identity gag perhaps wearing thin towards its end, the continuing comedy of errors is a device used down to the present day in modern sitcoms, from Fawlty Towers to Fraser. In a British setting it would be easy to see John Cleese’s Basil Fawlty in the role of the town’s governor. For instance, read Gogol’s directions for this character: ‘Coarse in his judgements, he passes rapidly from fear to joy, from servility to arrogance.’ Basil Fawlty, indeed.

But it is in the play’s implicit critique of the government of the day in which it proves most important. Comments against the Tsar meant a visit to Siberia in Imperial and Soviet Russia, meaning the writers of these periods found other means to get their message to the masses, in the form of their plays and stories; something Gogol has gone down in history for. As Gogol states himself in a letter of the period:

‘I resolved to gather together all the bad in Russia I then knew into one heap, all the injustice that was practised in those places and in those human relations in which more than in anything justice is demanded of men, and to have one big laugh over it all.’

Not that it done Gogol the slightest bit of good, as he left his homeland in search of greater freedom abroad. The Government Inspector may be deemed a classic Russian work of art; however, it shades in comparison to Gogol’s much greater Lost Souls. As an introduction to Gogol, the play is ever ready to impress; but perhaps the reader should look at first to his comedic and surreal The Nose.