The Aubrey/Maturin Novels (Master & Commander)

It's fascinating that the best adventure novels in the English language are formally untitled.  The novels - Patrick O'Brian's stories of British naval captain "Lucky Jack" Aubrey and his friend, ship's doctor and secret agent Stephen Maturin - have no umbrella name, unlike say, Lord of the Rings.  Most people who know anything about them call them the "Master and Commander" novels, probably because of the excellent film with Russell Crowe as Lucky Jack.  But for those of us who have read them and love them, it doesn't matter.  

In truth, the series of 20 novels is really one novel - an epic saga of the Napoleonic Age that begins with Jack's first command, and first of the spectacular successes that lead to his nickname, and ends decades later with his rise to admiral.  But that simple description doesn't begin to summarize the complex narrative of the rise, fall, and resurrection of one of English literature's most captivating heroes, or the story of a fascinating lifelong friendship between two very different and fascinating individuals.  

The books are brilliant in their portrayal of action at sea, and of the political intrigues of the time.  They are also compelling romances, especially the long, tragic story of Stephen and the Lady Diana, his alluring, self-destructive wife.

But O'Brian's genius is most evident in two achievements: His incredibly compelling descriptions of life at sea in the first years of the 19th century, and the creation of an unforgettable friendship between two entirely different types of hero.

As good a storyteller as O'Brian is on land, his novels really take off when the mooring lines are thrown off and his heroes take to the sea.  Life in the British Navy is brutal and harsh, a constant struggle against weather, hunger, drunkenness, and the extraordinary danger of every ordinary day at sea.  Mistakes are frequently mortal.  And yet the adventures experienced by even the most common sailor - the thrill of finding new cultures, the excitement of battle, the bonds formed between men who depend on each other for their safety and sanity - make you wonder if 20th century life can offer anything remotely as inspiring.

O'Brian's adventures are unabashedly old-fashioned - they could have been written 200 years ago - and Jack Aubrey is the perfect hero for them.  Reading these novels and getting to know Jack over a 20-year span, you realize how rare a bird is the traditional hero in modern literature.  In our age of irony and cynicism, Jack Aubrey should seem too good to be true - but he's not.  Aubrey may be one of the most sophisticated characters in 20th century fiction.  Jack is flawed - boastful, spoiled, headstrong and naive - but his flaws make his courage and audacity more believable, and more admirable.

Stephen Maturin is in many ways Jack's opposite - intellectual where Jack is instinctive, repressed, angry and suspicious where Jack is sensual and trusting.  Stephen is more of a 20th-century heroic ideal - the anti-hero, scornful of authority and traditional institutions.  A secret agent for the British government - which, as an Irish national, he loathes with a passion - he thrives in darkness, while Jack is a creature of noise and light.

And yet their friendship is what truly brings these novels to life, and the evolution of their relationship is what ties the books together into one satisfying whole.  In the first novel, Stephen first sees Jack as conservative and shallow, a happy tool of imperial power, while Jack finds his doctor to be argumentative and irritating.  By the end of the series, after numerous battles, personal failures, shared deprivation and triumph, the two men have built the kind of friendship rarely found and greatly envied.

I say "men" because I have a bias - I think these are books that few women will enjoy as much as most men.  Their emphasis on friendship and their lack of compelling women characters (Lady Diana strongly excluded) will - I think - lessen their attraction.

O'Brian's greatest asset is patience.  Knowing from the outset that he was going to tell his story over the course of 20 novels, he takes his time and goes into great detail with each.  Don't think "Moby Dick" and its lengthy discourses on whaling techniques; a better comparison is Dickens.  Both share the ability to describe situations concisely and convincingly while keeping the narrative moving like a war frigate at full sail in a howling gale.

My favorites in the series: HMS Surprise, in which Jack takes command of the ship he will love most his entire career; The Reverse of the Medal, in which Jack falls victim to poor judgment and political intrigue; and The Far Side of the World.  But the truth is, I love them all, and read them all in order, one right after the other - and when I finished, I felt empty for a week with the loss.

Midnight's Children

Appropriately, I'm writing this just past midnight, having just finished Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, the night after Slumdog Millionaire won the Best Picture Oscar.  If "Slumdog" was your introduction to today's India - I'm just guessing, but I'd bet that's true for a lot of Americans - and you want to learn more about its people, history, culture and identity, Midnight's Children might be just the place to start.  You probably know Rushdie's name from the controversy caused by The Satanic Verses, the satiric novel that caused the Ayatollah Khomeni to issue a "fatwa" calling for the author's assassination.  (By the way, it's a brilliant, funny and moving book.)  Midnight's Children is the novel that made Rushdie a literary celebrity, winning the Booker Prize as the best novel in English in 1980, and subsequently the "Booker of Booker" Prize as the best novel in English since the Bookers were established.

Any description of the plot is a futile exercise, because Midnight's Children is one of those magnificent works of art that is totally unclassifiable - it's a sweeping epic, sharp satire, tragic romance; it's the story of one man, and of an entire country; it's funny, horrifying, fantastical and palpably real.  Rushdie reminds me of Robin William's stand-up style - the limitless scope of his references; the talent for identifying the precise, telling detail; the love of humanity in its infinite variety.  What Rushdie adds is passion, both for his country and its people in all their flawed beauty, and for the breathtaking ride that's the gift of the greatest storytellers.

Midnight's Children is the story of Saleem Sinai, born at the stroke of midnight as India achieved its independence, his life and destiny to be shared with India's own.  Saleem grows up as a wealthy Muslim in a Hindu nation, his life driven by a mystery regarding his birthright and the magical abilities of those children who share his birthday.  But Saleem is only the central figure in a story that begins decades before his birth.  The story of his family, beginning with his physician grandfather meeting his bride-to-be through a hole in a sheet, is intertwined with the history of independent India, including the end of the Raj, the birth of Pakistan, the rise and fall and rise of democracy, bloody wars and bloody peace.  

In fact, like Slumdog Millionaire, the real star of Midnight's Children is India itself, in all its contradictions, color, magnificence and blundering.