I can't help wondering if those weird looking anti-drone EMP guns would work on them? Either that or a full mag of light-armour piercing caseless from a Pulse Rifle.... 

Happy Birthday: Joel Daniel Coen (born November 29, 1954) is an American filmmaker. Working alongside his brother Ethan, he has directed, written, edited and produced many feature films, the most acclaimed of which include Blood Simple (1984), Raising Arizona (1987), Miller's Crossing (1990), Barton Fink (1991), Fargo (1996), The Big Lebowski (1998), O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000), No Country for Old Men (2007), A Serious Man (2009), True Grit (2010) and Inside Llewyn Davis (2014).

The duo began directing separately in the 2020s. Joel directed the 2021 thriller The Tragedy of Macbeth (adapted from the Shakespeare play) starring Denzel Washington and Coen's wife Frances McDormand. The film was his first solo directorial effort, and was nominated for three Academy Awards. Joel is set to direct another film, Jack of Spades.

The brothers, together, have won four Academy Awards from 14 nominations; one for writing Fargo, and three for writing, directing, and producing No Country For Old Men. They also won a Palme d'Or for Barton Fink.

Just Finished Reading: The Spanish Armada by Robert Hutchinson (FP: 2013) [254pp] 

It was, without doubt, a turning point heralding both the rise of England to global power status and the long slow decline of the Spanish Empire into eventual obscurity. The Great Enterprise of the Spanish Armada was supposed to ring the death knell of Elizabeth’s Protestant England. Not only did it fail in rather spectacular fashion it set in motion a chain of events that would change Europe and the world forever. 

The launch of the Armada in 1588 came as no great surprise to anyone. Not only was Spain an avowed enemy of England after the accension of Elizabeth to the throne in late 1558 but Phillip II (ex-husband of Mary I of England) had publicly vowed to expunge the heretical monarch by fire and invasion if necessary. As the Anglo-Spanish War (1585-1604) dragged on plans were drawn and ships began to cluster in various ports ready to destroy the English navy [I had to constantly correct myself thinking of England’s forces as “British” or thinking of England as either Britain/Great Britain or the UK as such entities had yet to come into existence] and facilitate a full invasion from the Spanish held Netherlands. Such a fleet took an inordinate amount of time to bring together. So long indeed that the early stores brought aboard began in rot in their casks. The fleet itself was a motley collection of newly commissioned ships, barges, older warships and even oar powered/assisted galleons. In all the fleet consisted of 141 ships and took two days just to leave port. Moving at the speed of the slowest ship it progressed towards England at a pace of 4MPH.  

From the ‘off’ things did not go well. Bad weather forced several ships back into port almost immediately and later storms forced several ships to leave for repairs. Finally reaching the English Channel it began to face increasing attacks from English warships which although smaller than many of their Spanish counterparts where much nimbler, better crewed and better armed. The failings of the Armada began to become obvious to all concerned. Barely half of the actual Armada were warships whilst most of the English ships could be described as such. Although the English did have a number of armed merchantmen the majority were very much men-o-war manned by experienced and hardened combat veterans. Retiring to Calais to await the invasion force from the Netherlands, the Spanish fleet were set upon by 8 English fireships causing only slight damage overall but scattering the remainder and beaching several ships. Interestingly, these 8 ships were the only English losses attributed to the fighting.  

Scattered, harried and with contrary winds – to say nothing of the dead and dying from various encounters including the Battle of Gravelines – the Armada pushed into the North Sea with the idea of circumnavigating the British Isles and returning to Spain. This is where things got really bad for the fleet. A mixture of unseasonably stormy weather, lack of charts, death, disease and fast running out supplies meant that the remaining 110 ships suffered greatly on their journey home. Finally, months after they sailed certain of their victory, only 35 ships made it back many containing hundreds of dead and dying. It was a disaster of epic proportions. Spain would never fully recover. 

Naturally the tale of the Spanish Armada is taught with pride (or at least it was in my time) in British schools – despite the fact that most of the damage was done by our notoriously fickle weather. Although its arguable if the Armada could ever have been successful even without the storms it's equally arguable that a successful invasion (if possible) would have ended Elizabeth’s reign reasonably easily. But I think a LOT would have had to have been different for this counter-factual to have much credence. Evidence at the time as well as later evidence from the many wrecks around the coast shows just how unprepared the Spanish had been relying as they did on God and the justice of their cause rather than solid logistics, a well thought out plan and seaworthy ships.  

As an aside, after receiving the rather odd update on my ancestry – that my DNA is apparently 2% Spanish – I paid particular attention to the crews of Spanish ships that washed up on the Irish coast on their way home. It seems that the vast majority either drowned (the idea I understand that it was ‘bad luck’ for a sailor to know how to swim) or were killed on the shoreline (as either invaders or, rather strangely, because of an idea that if you saved someone from the sea then it would be ‘compensated’ by the drowning of a local). Some of the richer survivors did manage to pay their way home (as always) but there is some evidence that a handful of survivors did settle in Ireland in various capacities. It's possible (just) that one of these Spaniards was an ancestor of mine – although I doubt very much if I’m going to find any documentation of a Pedro Gonzales married to Bridget Doyle in 1589.  

Overall, this was a very good examination of why the Armada happened and why it ultimately failed. Even if you have a reasonable familiarity with the events this can still highlight much that you might have missed from your school, movies or casual reading. Definitely worth a read.

Imagine being asked where you live.....?

OK.... Now THAT'S an interesting interpretation.... [muses]

Just Finished Reading: Keane’s Company by Iain Gale (FP: 2013) [341pp] 

Portugal, 1808. Lieutenant James Keane knew it was a bad idea. Duelling had been banned in the British army and yet here he was. Not that he had much choice as it was a matter of honour. Being accused of cheating wasn’t something that an officer and a gentleman could simply ignore. Naturally he never intended to kill his opponent. He knew now that his conduct would result in more than a reprimand and a fine. It would mean a court-martial and being cashiered from the Army. To leave in disgrace after over a decade of service. When they came for him, he went quietly, expecting the worse. What he didn’t expect was being brought up before the new Commander-in-Chief himself. Recently arrived from England, Arthur Wellesley clearly had other troubles than one careless Lieutenant. But he also clearly required talent if he was to expel the French forces from Portugal. Keane couldn’t have been more surprised when he was promoted to Captain. There was, of course, a price to be paid. Keane was to form a company of men with a variety of talents and to operate primarily behind enemy lines. He was to scout ahead of the army and, where possible, disrupt enemy intentions wherever and however he could. Periodically he would report back to Wellesley himself but, until then, he and his men would be on their own, living off the land, working with partisans, and generally raising Hell. Fortunately, his men, rescued from prison, firing squad and flogging were already practiced hellraisers. Life as an exploring officer was going to be anything but dull. 

Already being a dedicated fan of Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe novels, I just HAD to pick this up when I came across it. I was not disappointed. Not only was Keane a fun creation the whole idea behind the novel was one I had been thinking about for some time. One of my favourite characters in the Sharpe universe was Major Hogan the ‘exploring officer’ doing secret work behind the lines. I’ve been hoping for a while now that Cornwell would produce such a book, but that’s not going to happen. Although this wasn’t EXACTLY what I wanted it was a pretty close fit. The blurb on the back of the book describes Keane’s company as ‘a 19th century Dirty Dozen’ which I completely agree with. The idea works really well in the context of the Peninsular War. Such ‘Special Forces’ groups were force multipliers and Wellesley (later the Duke of Wellington) was strapped for troops and strapped for cash, so it made sense to think outside the box and create something like this. I have no idea if such a thing did happen IRL as, sadly, most of my ‘knowledge’ of the Napoleonic Wars comes almost exclusively from Sharpe novels. I mean to address this at some point! 

Needless to say, I really enjoyed this. Keane is an interesting character with room for development (there are three more books in the series to date) and there’s plenty of war/action for him and his men to be involved in. There are some very nice set-pieces – befitting a small fighting group - throughout the book, and I never once found myself disengaged or wanting more. I am very much looking forward to the next book, which I don’t have yet, but I do have the last book in the set so... Definitely recommended for all Napoleonic War fans and most definitely for fans of Richard Sharpe. More to come in this (short) series and from the author. 

I've always maintained that, as a species we are smart enough to create nuclear weapons then stupid enough to use them. Likewise we will be smart enough to create completely autonomous killing machines... and be stupid enough to deploy them. 

"But I beg you to observe that there is a wide difference between being captains or governors of work, and taking the profits of it. It does not follow, because you are general of an army, that you are to take all the treasure, or land, it wins (if it fight for treasure or land;) neither, because you are a king of a nation, that you are to consume all the profits of the nation's work.

John Ruskin, Traffic, 1866.

Sci-Fi Books that Shaped Me 

This is kind of stolen (with modifications) from Stephen over @ Reading Freely. 

For the greater part of my reading life (over 50 years now) my ‘go to’ books have been Science Fiction. Indeed, when I started out (VERY late in my early teens) I read SF almost exclusively. Needless to say, the genre has had a significant impact on making me who I am today. 

As I’ve mentioned several times the spark that ignited my lifelong passion for books was Triplanetary by E E ‘Doc’ Smith (which I must re-read at some point). This was a classic tale of Space Opera published in 1934 and was full of alien races, exploding stars and huge space battles. It was exactly what a young teen needed to literally blow their imagination. The other (very) early influence, just prior to this, was 1984 by George Orwell leant to me by a sympathetic English teacher at school. This slice of classic dystopian fiction was a foundation to my distrust of the authoritarian impulse and a major building block of my political belief system. My subsequent reading of The Dispossessed by Ursula K LeGuin kicked off my longtime interest in Anarchism and all things politically on the Left. 

In a much more general sense Science Fiction significantly shaped the way I thought and, no doubt, still think about the world. One of the ways it did that was to make me wonder about the real science behind the science fiction. Reading about aliens, spaceships, time machines and robots (amongst MANY other things) got me wondering about how these things actually worked. How do you actually navigate in space? Is there (or was there) life on Mars? How do lasers work? What happens when a craft approaches the Speed of Light? Can you go faster? The only way to even begin to answer those questions was to hunt out books in my local library and read up on them. 

Along with (later) reading History, the different societies portrayed in SF (both human and alien, alternate and future) showed me that things could or can be different than they are now. They taught me that this wasn’t IT. That things could change for the better, that life as we lived it wasn’t inevitable – nothing like it. There was an alternative, indeed MANY alternatives. Speaking of which... reading Alternative History (one of my favourite sub-genres) taught me just how contingent things are. That even small changes, from a humble individual could at the right time and in the right place change history profoundly. Yet again it taught me that there was no such thing as Fate, no Destiny, no Plan. That things could have been very different from what we often accept as inevitable. 

Although reading Science-Fiction didn’t make me an Atheist I can see how it helped to reinforce that idea. Quite a lot of SF resolves around puzzles to be solved. Sometimes they’re as mundane as ‘How do we get from A to B without dying?’ Other times its ‘What are the aliens going to do next or How can we understand what they’re trying to say to us?’ The story then revolves around gathering evidence, putting together theories and testing them until you come up with a working solution. This reinforced the idea in my youthful growing brain that all problems had potential solutions and that what I needed to do was to analyse the issue (ANY issue), do my research and come up with a working hypothesis that I could test against reality. I then applied this idea to EVERYTHING I came across. Over time I became curious about everything (my ‘butterfly mind’) as well as sceptical about everything too. Whenever I can across an assertion my immediate response was “Prove it.” 

Needless to say, with my growing brain marinating in a regular infusion of SF in all its variety, my reading influenced (or some would no doubt say warped) my view of myself and the world. I got used to people looking at me strangely for the questions I asked, the fact that I asked questions at all, the depth of my scepticism (I even impressed my Masters tutors on that point), the solutions I offered (more often rejected as unworkable or too expensive – or just ‘silly’), and a host of other things. Science Fiction has most definitely made me the person I am, and I have zero regrets on that point. I have no idea who I would be without it, but I’m pretty certain that I’d be a different and probably a very different person sitting here today. Am I a better person because of 50+ years of SF reading? That’s an interesting question and probably only answerable if we had access to alternate realities... which we probably don’t.... Probably...  

Happy Birthday: Robert Francis Vaughn (November 22, 1932 – November 11, 2016) was an American actor and political activist, whose career in film, television and theater spanned nearly six decades and who was best known for his role as secret agent Napoleon Solo on The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (1964–68). He was a Primetime Emmy Award winner, and was nominated for the Academy Award, the BAFTA Award, two Laurel Awards, and four times for the Golden Globe Award. Vaughn also has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Vaughn had his breakthrough role as disabled, drunken war veteran Chester A. Gwynn in The Young Philadelphians, earning him a 1960 Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor. He subsequently appeared in scores of films, notably as gunman Lee in The Magnificent Seven (1960), Walter Chalmers in Bullitt, Major Paul Krueger in The Bridge at Remagen (1969), the voice of Proteus IV in Demon Seed (1977) and Ross Webster in Superman III (1983).

To television audiences, in addition to his role as Solo, Vaughn was known for his roles as private detective Harry Rule on The Protectors (1972–74), Morgan Wendell in the miniseries Centennial (1978–79), and Albert Stroller on the BBC Television drama Hustle (2004–12). He won an Emmy Award for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Drama Series for his portrayal of the White House Chief of Staff in the miniseries Washington: Behind Closed Doors. He also appeared in the British soap opera Coronation Street as Milton Fanshaw from January until February 2012.

Aside from his acting career, Vaughn was active in Democratic Party politics. He was chair of the California Democratic State Central Committee speakers bureau during the 1960s, and publicly campaigned against the Vietnam War as a member of the peace group Another Mother for Peace. A PhD in communications, his 1970 doctoral thesis "The Influence of the House Committee on Un-American Activities on the American Theater 1938–58" is considered "the most complete and intelligent treatment of the virulent practice of blacklisting now available."

Just Finished Reading: Foreign Devils on the Silk Road – The Search for the Lost Treasures of Central Asia by Peter Hopkirk (FP: 1980) [241pp] 

It was arguably one of the most important trade routes in history. It connected the great Empires of the West to those of the East and allowed goods, ideas and disease to travel the globe in relative ease. They were the Silk Roads (plural). But all things pass and trade routes are no exception. First, they pass into disuse, then history and finally into legend itself. But around the turn of the 20th century rumours of lost cities, ancient sites lost in the desert and uncounted treasure began circling the European capitals. Strange exotic objects began appearing in markets and, finally, expeditions were planned and funded in institutions from Britain, Germany, Russia, Japan and the USA.  

Knowledge of the exact route of the various strands that made up the Silk Routes was approximate at best. The only way to find them at that time was travel overland with the knowledge available and ask the locals what they knew – which, all too often, was very little. Rumours, legends, warnings, stories of ghosts in the desert and the curses placed on treasure by jealous spirits wasn’t exactly a road map. But hints of sunken cities and a handful of ancient objects in the homes of the headmen was enough to start with. The first tentative diggings yielded little but then, finally, paydirt. In the disputed areas bordering China a host of documents emerged from the sand. The burgeoning world of archaeology was aflame. Museums and galleries across the world demanded their own examples of artifacts, paintings, documents and anything small enough to transport across the vast (and often uncharted) distances safely to London, Berlin, Paris or New York.  

The men who responded to the call were a varied bunch. Some, indeed most, were experts in their respective fields. Others were there for the glory of being first, of making their names and reputations and, of course, for sheer the adventure of it all. What almost no one cared about was the rights of the locals to their own history. Naturally some serious rationalisation went on. The locals were all too often ignorant of what lay beneath the sand or high in the mountains. There was also the very real danger that time and the environment would destroy much of cultural or historic significance – so why not remove it and place it in a museum thousands of miles away for ‘safe-keeping’. Of course, later Chinese authorities couldn’t help but mention the number of irreplaceable artifacts destroyed by the Allied bombing of Germany in WW2 held in its city museums. 

This was honestly a fascinating read. If you’ve ever enjoyed an Indiana Jones movie (well the first decent one) you’ll enjoy the reality even more. Although there’s no Nazi archaeologists looking for supernatural wonder weapons there are plenty of Chinese warlords, mysterious priests, Japanese spies, British agents and competing dig teams almost coming to outright conflict over who had a right to dig where. Added into the mix, if that wasn’t enough, was extreme weather events, the very real possibility of death from cold, heat, disease, wild animals, local treasure hunters, and thirst. Coming out of the region alive, even empty handed, was an achievement in itself! This is definitely recommended for all adventure fans and those interested in the real-life origins of one of our own cultural icons – Indie! More to come from this author.

Happy World Philosophy Day.... Go and think DEEPLY about something....

I remember in Sixth Form (ages 16-18) during a particularly harsh winter - and it was in the North so *particularly* harsh - that some girls came in wearing trousers. They were told in no uncertain terms that this was not allowed as it was not standard uniform (despite the fact that they were in school colours) so would have to return in skirts the following day. They refused and were given the option of wearing skirts or staying home. We had a discussion between ourselves and decided on a 3rd option. We went on strike (it WAS the 1970's after all!) and boycotted classes. Within 48 hours the rules had been changed and trousers were allowed from then on. Side Note: Female staff and teachers were allowed to wear trousers if they wished. Oddly the rules for skirts only applied (in this case) to 16-18 year old's.... 

Just Finished re-Reading: Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said by Philip K Dick (FP: 1974) [204pp] 

Jason Tavener has it all, he is an idol with 30 million fans of his late-night TV show, he’s rich, famous and successful, he’s made it. He has, he would admit, an almost perfect life. One other thing he has is enemies. He can’t get to the top without climbing over people. On of those enemies, an ex-’girlfriend’, has something in mind to make their separation permanent. Jason never saw it coming. He woke briefly in the ambulance and again as he was rushed into the operating room. Then... Nothing. He woke the next day in a sleezy boarding house downtown. He was still dressed in his rumpled suit and the $5K was still in his pocket. The only things he was missing was his ID, any blood or scaring or any memory of how he got there. The lack of ID was a problem. The police would pick him up if he went far without it. He’d have to get his agent to drive over with a new set. Except his agent didn’t seem to know who he was. That bastard was going to get fired as soon as Jason got home. But the paper didn’t list his show on the TV pages, and no one recognised him in reception. What the hell was going on? His girlfriend would know. Calling her phone from memory was the real shocker. She clearly had no idea who he was except for a sick fan stalker. Jason was in trouble, deep trouble and he had no idea why... 

I read this no long after its original publication so could remember almost nothing about it. The blurb on the back (you know, I REALLY have to stop reading them...) promised ‘a terrifying near future that makes 1984 look like the Age of Enlightenment’. Needless to say, that was a ‘slight’ exaggeration. That’s not to say that it was without its merits. PKD’s main narrative thrust in at least most of his work (that I’ve read) is the question: What is REAL? Jason’s ‘transfer’ to a world where no one knows him gets him to question himself, reality and everything in between. If you’re effectively a non-person, then who exactly are you? The world he came from (and indeed the world he spent most of the novel in) was indeed a police-state but, especially by today’s standards, was a pretty lame one and wasn’t a patch on the dystopia of 1984. It was, essentially, the early 70’s with all its political and social upheaval projected into the ‘future’ plus flying cars, high levels of pornography and easy access to drugs of all types. So, the overall ‘world-building’ was minimal. The whole identity issue was handled much better and had some pretty good moments, but moments only! The ‘reason’ behind the sudden change of reality was, frankly, silly and would probably have been better if it was never explained. I’m not sure what I made of it in my teens, but it didn’t float my boat now. Reasonable overall, but more odd than enjoyable. Hopefully some much better re-reads to come!   

Happy Birthday: Oberst Claus Philipp Maria Justinian Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg (15 November 1907 – 21 July 1944) was a German army officer who is best known for his failed attempt on 20 July 1944 to assassinate Adolf Hitler at the Wolf's Lair, part of Operation Valkyrie, a plan that would have seen the arrest of the Nazi leadership in the wake of Hitler's death and an earlier end to World War II.

Graf von Stauffenberg took part in the Invasion of Poland, the 1941–42 invasion of the Soviet Union in Operation Barbarossa and the Tunisian campaign during the Second World War. Alongside Major Generals Henning von Tresckow and Hans Oster, he became a key figure in the German resistance to Nazism within the Wehrmacht.

On 20 July 1944, Stauffenberg's assassination attempt failed, the explosive he had placed only dealing Hitler minor injuries. The conspirators were arrested, and many of them executed, including Stauffenberg on the day after the attempt. His wife Nina was also arrested, giving birth to their fifth child Konstanze while imprisoned. Their children also included Berthold, who followed in his father's footsteps as a military man, and politician Franz-Ludwig.

In 1980, the West German government established a memorial for the failed anti-Nazi resistance movement in a part of the Bendlerblock, the remainder of which currently houses the Berlin offices of the German Ministry of Defense (whose main offices remain in Bonn). The Bendlerstrasse was renamed the Stauffenbergstrasse, and the Bendlerblock now houses the Memorial to the German Resistance, a permanent exhibition with more than 5,000 photographs and documents showing the various resistance organisations at work during the Hitler era. The courtyard where the officers were shot on 21 July 1944 is now a memorial site, with a plaque commemorating the events and a bronze figure of a young man with his hands symbolically bound which resembles Graf von Stauffenberg.

Just Finished Reading: The Iron Whim – A Fragmented History of Typewriting by Darren Wershler-Henry (FP: 2005) [290pp] 

Back in my mid-teens (so 50 years ago!) I fancied myself as an author. I wrote short stories and sent off more than a few to a handful of SF Magazines I regularly bought. Nothing was published (not surprisingly) but one response I got back was “For God’s sake get yourself a typewriter. Which I did. Unfortunately for me (and maybe posterity) I bought myself an electric beast that was rather large, rather heavy and smelt of heated oil whenever I used it, which after a while gave me a headache. It wasn’t long before I gave up on it and gave it to my sister. 

Typewriters have always been more than mere keyboards – although try to convince anyone of THAT these days. Typewriters have a mystique, something almost otherworldly about them. It's not that surprising that the simple image of a typewriter is SO iconic and that, at least in large part, is where this rather odd but often fascinating book ‘comes from’. Being a history of a device, no matter how iconic, there’s inevitably time (a few chapters at least) for the actual development of the typewriter and the interesting fact that no one actually ‘invented’ it. The machine itself is the result of several people/companies trying to solve various problems and eventually being mashed together into the device we know today. Also, quite naturally, is discussion of why exactly we use the QWERTY keyboard which has proven to be rather less efficient that it could be (oh, and apparently it wasn’t designed that way to stop key clashes at high speed. Speed typing came *after* the solidification of QWERTY). Regarding speed – it's interesting that in the 1920’s they regularly held typing speed trails with significant prizes. The problem was the time it took to agree on a winner which tended to bore the (presumably paying) audience. 

One of my favourite parts of the book was Chapter 22 which began “Sooner or later, anyone writing about typewriting has to deal with the monkeys.” Incredibly the old adage of monkeys typing Shakespeare (or the author of choice at the time) has actually been tested – including by real monkeys typing (or more often defecating) on real typewriters. A more scientific (and no doubt hygienic) series of experiments were undertaken by computer programmes proving that the age of the Universe itself is not long enough for any number of monkeys to produce any work of literature – classic or not. 

FULL of interesting little quirks and odd historical events this was a fun read and would, I think, seriously warm the cockles of anyone with any love at all for typewriters in any of their many changing forms. Definitely one of my strangest reads of the year and recommended for anyone looking for an off-the-wall read or those interested in the cultural impact of this iconic device. 

Just Finished Reading: Three Japanese Short Stories by Akutagawa & Others [50pp] 

This was a (short) collection of three (obviously!) short stories extracted from an upcoming – but since published – collection intriguingly called Penguin Book of Japanese Short Stories. I’d seen that before when browsing Amazon and is, it appears, part of a larger set of international short story collections. Needless to say, I’m keeping a look out for them as I think they’re an excellent way not only to check out new authors but also to dip those toes into authors from other countries and other cultures. 

The three examples here were... odd, to say the least. We started with ‘Behind the Prison’ by Nagai Kafu which told of a wandering son returning to the family farm (located by a nearby prison) and struggling to fit back into a quiet life after living abroad. Although nothing has changed, except that his parents have become inexplicably older, he very much has. The second story (and the best I think) was ‘Closet L L B’ by Uno Koji. This was a rather strange, although very amusing, story of a young man who dreamt of being an author. His mother and guardian (his father being dead) want him to become a doctor but they ‘compromise’ on him studying Law. Coming next to last in his class he has no intention of practicing law but instead watches the street life and daydreams from the comfort of his futon closet. Lastly, we have the oldest tale (the author died in 1927) ‘General Kim’ by Akutagawa Ryunosuke. This was a fantastic (as in fantasy!) tale revolving around an early attempted invasion of Korea and the rise of a young Korean hero with seemingly magical powers. It reminded me a bit of ‘Crouching Tiger...’ 

Despite not being massively impressed by this short collection – with the possible exception of the middle story – it hasn’t put me off in the least from continuing with the Penguin Modern shorts and seeking out the larger volume from which these shorts were extracted. I’m always in the market for works in translation (indeed I picked up two such last week) so there will be more to follow.