Just Finished Reading: The First Four Minutes by Roger Bannister (FP: 1955/2004) [237pp] 

It was one of THOSE challenges. Some thought it impossible, simply beyond human capacity. It certainly seemed that way. For years it had been ever so slowly approached but never surpassed. Of course, there’s nothing quite like the ‘impossible’ to motivate people. But if a man could climb Everest, then a man could run the Four Minute Mile – at least theoretically. The question was: How. Would it be enough to run a series of quarter-mile races in less than a minute or would it take something more, something that would draw on reserves yet to be imagined. Trainee doctor and Oxford University runner was about to find out. 

OK, let’s just start by saying this is a very unusual read for me – I mean, SPORT, right? Not just running for fun but actual competitive sport. So, odd it certainly is. But the breaking of the (proven mythical) Four-Minute mile ‘barrier’ was an iconic post-War achievement so there was a certain appeal to the whole thing. As anyone growing up in England not too long after the event, Bannisters achievement has become part of the English mythos even for non-sports people like me. What I didn’t know, and was most intrigued to find out, was the process behind the headlines. It did not fail to interest – much to my surprise. For one thing this was a very well written book – despite the author being just 26 when this was published. He certainly knew how to build tension and tell a good, often personal, story. 

I think one thing that surprised me most was just how haphazard and amateurish his whole training process was. For most of his early career he had no coach and regime – he essentially did what he thought best and what ‘felt right’. Indeed, he was very sceptical indeed of any kind of rigid dogmatic ideas about running. Bannister ran because he liked it and trained in-between other things – he was training to be a doctor after all. Another thing that surprised me was the fact that, apart from track running, he ran cross-country races and spent his off-hours fell-running and hill climbing, either of which could’ve resulted in sprained or broken ankles despite also aiming at breaking the Four Miles! These days he’d probably be called ‘reckless’ in this regard. The other thing I found particularly interesting was his observations of the (recently) post-War world as he travelled to run in competitions in Europe, Scandinavia, New Zealand and the US. His observations, particularly about early-50's America (most especially compared to austerity Britain still barely recovering from the War) were rather eye-opening! 

I won’t give anything away here by saying that he did, finally, break the Four Minute ‘barrier’ on 6th May 1954 with a time of 3:59.4 seconds. This was a world class record that lasted exactly 46 days before being beaten in Finland by Australian John Landy in 3:58 dead. Rather oddly, just like the ‘sound barrier’, the record for the mile started falling with regularity as soon as it became breakable and now stands at 3:43.13 seconds. Interesting in the book, Bannister believed that the absolute limit was 3:30 seconds on his understanding of human physiology. Definitely a different read for me and an informative one especially if you have any interest in running, sport or sporting records.

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Just Finished Reading: War by Sebastian Junger (FP: 2010) [278pp] 

What is it like to be in combat in a modern war? How do people cope, from all kinds of backgrounds, with the danger and the boredom? What does a year in a war zone do to people and how does it affect them months or even years later? What do frontline soldiers think about the war they’ve volunteered to take part in? These questions, and more both thought about and not, would be answered in the most direct way by the author. The way to find out, possibly the only way to find out, is to be there with them – coping with the same heat, the same cold and the same MRE rations. To be there when the boredom is so bad it becomes dangerous, to be there when the sniper bullets are coming in and everyone knows that RPGs will soon be following. To be there, with the guys, as they run across open ground under fire to help one of their own shouting for help, or to hear them sobbing in their sleep after they see their best friend drop dead beside them from a headshot from who knows where. To be there to ask difficult questions when they’re willing to talk and to laugh along at their bad jokes.   

Over a 15-month deployment in the Korengal Valley in Afghanistan, the author spent 4 months doing just that. The 2nd Platoon of Battle Company, part of the US 173rd Airborne Brigade were the very tip of the spear and had been deployed on what the author called “sort of the Afghanistan of Afghanistan: too ­remote to conquer, too poor to intimidate, too autonomous to buy off.” Needless to say, it wasn’t the safest place to be for an American soldier or a journalist (and his cameraman) who was covering them. Under fire almost every day in the ‘fighting season’ and randomly at other times – from a single random shot from a hillside to a sustained attack lasting hours – death was always close at hand despite body armour, med packs and helicopter evac. The difference between seeing the next day and getting sent home to your family in a box might be the availability of a close Apache attack helicopter, an A-10  attack aircraft or fire support from a nearby base – and, of course, the guy sleeping in the next bunk. That level of trust and responsibility to the guy next to you builds something in a team of youngsters, something you just don’t get in civilian life where an untied shoe or a forgotten battery recharge doesn’t put both your life and the lives of the team in mortal danger. 

Despite all my previous reading on combat and soldiers, this was still quite an eye-opener. I think it was both the closeness and the rawness of the account that made the difference. This wasn’t just a journalist who flew in, interviewed a few men and an officer for an hour or two and then disappeared. This was a journalist who was ‘in the shit’ with the people he was reporting on and who agonised about his responsibility not to do anything stupid which endangered the others or whether he could pick up a gun to defend them if things got really bad. I was actually impressed that, although he didn’t carry a weapon throughout his multiple visits he was trained to use all of the weapons at the platoon's disposal and even offered to carry ammunition for the heavy weapon team when one of their number was going to be ‘bumped’ to make room for him on the helicopter. Overall, I was very impressed by the author and am looking forward to reading some of his previous work (including ‘The Perfect Wave’) and his follow up to this book on the effects of PTSD. Obviously with a book of this nature there are some nasty moments and a sprinkling of profanity throughout, so be warned. Highly recommended for anyone wanting to understand modern combat or the Afghan War. 

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Just Finished Reading: Twelves Days on the Somme – A Memoir of the Trenches, 1916 by Sidney Rogerson (FP: 1933) [194pp] 

I’m always looking out for first-hand accounts of historical events (or travels), so snapped this up when I saw it in my fave Indie bookshop some time ago. Although I’d never heard of the author before apparently he was quite famous in the 1930’s and not only for his books of WW1 (I have his other one stacked in a separate pile) but for his cricket biographies and tales of farming between the wars.  

The author was a fresh lieutenant when his regiment (the West Yorkshires) was assigned to a section of the Somme. Interestingly, as he stated in his introduction, this was not a tale of fighting and heroism in the face of the enemy. This was a tale of everyday life in the trenches told with a quite brutal honesty. It was a tale of mud, not only sticky and smelly but deadly. It was a tale of trying to keep warm and especially dry. It was a tale of ‘sleeping’ if it could be called that for a few hours at a time in-between orders arriving and the odd crisis. It was a tale of senior officers trying to do the best for their men and even more senior officers having zero idea either of what the men had to deal with, nor of what was being asked of them. It was a tale of random death – one of the things that struck me on several occasions was when the author focused on a fellow officer or common soldier and then mentioning the fact that he died at such and such a place by sniper bullet or shell impact. One weird thing was when people simply disappeared – they went out on patrol and simply didn’t come back. No one saw them hit, no one saw them fall. No capture report ever came back from the enemy and no POW ever returned. One moment they were there and then – vanished. Bizarre. 

Of course, there were funny stories too as we would expect in the circumstances. Jokes made at the expense of orders received that made no sense and of the ‘characters’ that have no doubt been sprinkled through every military unit throughout time. My favourites were the trooper who seemed to be able to light a fire in any conditions no matter the circumstance – and then proceed to brew a decent cup of tea. I also liked the soldier who requested permission to ‘survey’ No-Mans Land – AKA loot the German dead of anything of value. Aware that he couldn’t give such permission but also aware that the trooper was going to do it anyway suggested that if he did find himself outside the wire that the soldier should bring back any identification of British dead he found so that they could be taken off the missing list and allow their families to properly mourn – being in the days before ‘dog-tags’. 

In other words, this was an account of the mundane reality of trench warfare. This was talk of the weather, food, the lack of information, random death, watching attacks further down the line and thinking about the enemy who they almost never saw. All in all, this was honestly fascinating and an interesting change to tales of carnage, horror and death we’re usually given when trench warfare is discussed. Definitely recommended and more memoirs to come. 

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Just Finished Reading: The Big Lie – The Inside Story of Psychological Warfare by John Baker White (FP: 1955) [240pp] 

Firstly, this isn’t about what you might think at first glance – if you noticed the sub-title and the publication date! This is actually about the modern invention and growth of what was initially called Political Warfare during World War 2. The name was changed after 1941 to Psychological Warfare to bring it in line with the American view of things and, presumably, to stop any confusion between the Allies. 

The author was part of a team of journalists and others in various media who were initially tasked to use their skills to confuse the Axis Powers about British capabilities (Fun Fact – the British pretty much didn’t have any capabilities around the time of the Dunkirk evacuation). It was their job to convince, or at least make the enemy ponder, regarding the ability of Britain to resist any possible invasion. The ‘Lie’ put around was that the Brits had the capability of setting the sea on fire thereby making any amphibious landing ‘tricky’ at best. Years later the author leant that the Germans believed the ruse and it was one factor (amongst many) that was used to postpone Operation Sealion indefinitely. The other two ‘Big Lies’ were even more important – first to persuade the Axis Powers that, after clearing North Africa, the next blow would fall on Greece and not, as everyone expected, Sicily. Any ‘invasion’ of Sicily was to be viewed as a diversion rather than the main attack. The biggest lie of all was also probably the most important PsyOp of all time – convincing Hitler that the long-anticipated invasion of Europe would NOT happen in the obvious place: Normandy. Instead, the attack would take place at the Pas-de-Calais despite the German general’s (correct) assurance that a landing there was untenable. 

But rather than the headline grabbing BIG Lies (of which more later) I was more interested in the little stuff and the fieldcraft required to bring it off successfully. I liked the idea that British PsyOp agents would be ‘indiscrete’ in all the wrong places to spread false rumours as well as wear fake badges on their uniforms to confuse observers about what units were based where. One of the most interesting aspects of the whole thing (for me) was the use of the BBC to broadcast into Occupied Europe (of which more later). Not only did they broadcast propaganda and messages to the various Underground organisations [including the fascinating story of how the V for Victory symbol became the familiar drumbeat equated with the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony played before every BBC broadcast] but they also included accurate Axis casualty and prisoner reports (to ensure that the Axis military were listening) as well as a rather clever use of bomb damage assessment photographs. Whenever a German city was bombed the photographs were combed for proof of damaged or destroyed landmarks, theatres, restaurants and local pubs. This the BBC broadcast to lower the morale of soldiers from those towns and, as a side effect, sent German counter intelligence units mad looking for local spies! 

I’ve had the slim hardback on my shelves for decades but only picked it up to read recently when I decided to go through my older units looking for anything I might have missed. I’m really glad I finally got around to reading it. It certainly gave a ground-floor insight into a much-overlooked aspect of WW2. Recommended if you can source a copy.    

Just Finished Reading: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot – A Memoir by Kim Barker (FP: 2011) [300pp]

It was the opportunity of a lifetime plus, as her editor rightly said, she was expendable: no marriage and no children. But was it a step far too far? Sure, Kim was a reporter with the Chicago Tribune with years of journalistic experience under her belt but her experience as a foreign correspondent was zero. Actually she had barely been outside the US, spoke only English and knew almost nothing about Islam or Osama Bin Laden – so of course Afghanistan would be the place to cut her foreign debut teeth. After all, what could possibly go wrong? Apparently lots but if Kim was one thing she was a quick study. She only managed to offend her guide once when arguing with him about the substance of Islam after reading a book about it, she only annoyed the US military command once when she reported back exactly what the troops on the ground felt about the war and she very quickly learnt how to deal with Pakistani men who constantly tried to pinch her backside at every opportunity. Some skills came easier than others and some skills she wished she had never needed to acquire – like learning to concentrate exactly where you walked and where you put your hands after reporting on the aftermath of suicide and car bombs. But oddly, and even she found it practically inexplicable, not only did she adapt to an environment and situation completely outside her previous experience but she started to actually thrive in it and then become addicted to downtown Kabul and the day to day, hour to hour drama that was Afghanistan.

I picked this up some time ago because I’d seen trailers for the movie of the same name and because Tina Fey was on the cover. From seeing the trailer (I never saw the movie) I had assumed that this was going to be a light-hearted semi-sarcastic look at the war in Afghanistan told from the view of a reporter completely out of her depth and making mistake after mistake as she tried to get ‘good copy’ for her paper back home. There was certainly an element of this – especially early on – along with plenty of rye humour (which I always ‘heard’ in Tina Fey’s ‘voice’ throughout the book!) but there was some much more here. To say I was surprised by the quality of the writing says much more about me than the author. It was to be honest THE surprise hit of the year for me. Being largely inexperienced and not a little ignorant of foreign countries and cultures Kim managed to ‘see’ much of what was going on (and just as importantly not going on) in Afghanistan with an almost innocent eye and reported back her impressions without the sophisticated gloss we’re so used to. Reporting from ground level, both before and after the war expanded into Iraq, we see the lives of the local Afghans, political leaders in both Afghanistan and Pakistan (who’s influence in Afghanistan is far too often overlooked), how other journalists saw the conflict and the thoughts of the ‘boots on the ground’ which were all too often a mixture of ignorance, arrogance and mystification.

Author (Left) and Tina Fey (Right)

Like many people on the ground during those early years Kim saw a deep lack of understanding from the military of who exactly they were fighting and what exactly the overall mission was, she saw either unforgivable ignorance of or tacit complicity with the enormous levels of corruption at every level of the Afghan government, she saw the wasted opportunities occasioned by the sudden switch of resources to Iraq at just the wrong moment and she saw US troops confused at how exactly they were supposed to train their future Afghan replacements with inadequate resources and little support themselves. In total it was, Kim understood after her time there, a complete clusterfuck waiting to happen. She was right – Whiskey Tango Foxtrot indeed. If you want an idea of what was happening in Afghanistan and why the project ultimately failed (as many people knew it would) this will definitely give you a good idea. One of the highlights of 2021 for me and most definitely, and very unexpectedly, highly recommended. 

Just Finished Reading: Goodbye to All That by Robert Graves (FP: 1929)

It isn’t really surprising that he had little or no respect for those in authority. After his mother’s untimely death Robert was shuffled off, by his seemingly uncaring father, to Public (AKA ‘Private’) schools of varying unsuitability. Bullied and worse by other pupils and teachers alike he hated almost every moment of it. Fortunately Robert was both academically gifted as well as being a fair boxer – as his fellow pupils and one particularly obnoxious teacher found out to their costs. Robert was also very good at making lifelong friends including one teacher at Charterhouse – the climber George Herbert Leigh Mallory (who died on Everest in 1924 aged just 37) – who leant the young Graves books and took him climbing. His progression to Oxford was interrupted by the outbreak of the First World War when he enlisted almost immediately. Eventually sent into action on the Western Front he met and befriended the fellow poet Siegfried Sassoon before being injured and sent back to England to recuperate. At the Battle of the Somme he was seriously wounded by a shell fragment and was told (as he lay on a stretcher awaiting the casualty train) that he wouldn’t make it home alive. Needless to say he proved them wrong. Spending the rest of the war in a training camp he tried to teach raw recruits the basics for survival in the trenches. But one thing he never lost in all his time in the army was contempt for the generals who sent ill-trained and ill-equipped young men to their deaths in the thousands with no real understanding of what they wanted or what they were asking of their troops. From his testimony throughout this often heart-wrenching narrative the level of incompetence and indifference amongst the British officer class was staggering. You can feel the anger and the distain between every line.

As biographies go this was raw indeed. Graves opens his life to examination without asking anything in return (except maybe understanding). His experiences are laid out before the reader warts and all. He tells of his darkest thoughts, his mistakes, his romantic encounters (with both sexes) and his no holds barred experiences during the Great War and all of the pointless death he encountered there. All in all it’s really quite something to behold. His schoolboy experiences felt oddly Dickensian to be honest, but I suppose that they were so far out of my own experiences in a State education system 50 years later that Dickens or “Tom Browne’s School Days” was the only imagery I could fall back on. I know for a fact that I would have hated the experience just as much as he did. The fact that he not only became friends with Mallory but that he took him climbing (!) took my breath away. Just IMAGINE! I did a little bit of climbing in my 20’s (mostly as the prompting of a friend who was manic on the whole thing!) and enjoyed it – not having any great fear of heights helped no doubt – but the thought of Leigh Mallory *asking* you to go climbing with him…… [gulp] Then, of course, bumping into Sassoon in France! [shakes head, laughs] That sort of thing did seem to happen to some people! It does make me laugh though how famous people always seem to move in the circles of other famous people.

Despite the sometimes painfully raw moments this was an astonishing biography and rightly deserves its place as a modern literature classic. Not only will you learn a great deal about the formative years of a great poet and novelist but you will also get an insight into the society that created him and a harrowing look at life in the Western trenches. Highly recommended.       

Just Finished Reading: Suffragette – My Own Story by Emmeline Pankhurst (FP: 1914)

Enough was enough. That was her feeling. With growing anger there was no other alternative. After decades of working within the system, working long hours to have Liberal Members of Parliament elected cycle after cycle in the hope that one day they would be rewarded with the long wished for political franchise they at long last realised that it was all in vain. Although many still hoped for that long desire to be realised at some point in the future others wanted to move things forward at their pace and no longer wait for men to give them power when all other problems had been solved. Enough was enough.

One of those disappointed with a singular lack of progress was a young northern woman who joined a more radical set of women and eventually, through years of activism, eventually formed her own political group – the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU). Their object was female suffrage by whatever means necessary. At first they raised petitions (which were ignored) and staged marches (likewise). When that proved to be fruitless they began to emulate the long male tradition of heckling politicians when they spoke to the public (and where physically ejected). No matter the violence directed to them they persisted without much effect except for an increasing number of press reports (mostly negative). Not being able to vote themselves they hit on a brilliant idea – politically undermining the Liberal cause by speaking against them. Despite government and media propaganda this did have an effect with reduced majorities and, in some cases, Liberals losing their seats. While the few Labour MPs spoke up for them there was still little support in parliament and much opposition in the Liberal government to Votes for Women. It was time to take it to the next level.

More petitions were raised and where delivered (or attempted to be delivered) by larger and larger numbers of women. The police responded with arrests and an increasing level of violence directed at the women themselves. Refusing to pay their fines the women started short prison sentences and demanded to be treated as political prisoners rather than common criminals. When the authorities refused they used the only weapons they had – no co-operation and hunger strike. Political status was granted and many of the women were released after a few days only to be arrested again during the next round of protests. With the numbers of women arrested increasing month on month and the incidents increasing likewise the government increased the draconian measures against the WSPU raiding their offices, closing down their paper and threatening action against any donors. They also enacted their most potent weapon to date – the so-called ‘Cat and Mouse’ Act where hunger striking women were released only to be re-arrested once they recovered their strength. With attitudes hardening on both sides the women protestors took things up a level again with the targeted attacks on property.

Again they used to time honoured method of political protest used by men in decades past to gain the vote themselves – the breaking of windows. The sound of smashing glass resounded across London with the police rushing from one incident to another to find the perpetrators already gone and the sound of more breaking glass in the distance. Some women were arrested and the head of the organisation (the author) was herself arrested for conspiracy and given 3 years hard labour. You can imagine the reaction from her followers. Not only were windows broken as never before but fires broke out in timber yards and houses of the rich and powerful across the country. Leading politicians went everywhere with an ever increasing security detail, art galleries closed to protect their exhibits, golf courses were vandalised and even the Prime Ministers country home was severely damaged by a bomb explosion. Only the advent of hostilities with the Central Powers in 1914 brought the campaign to a (temporary) halt before the rebellion became an insurrection.

Told with brutal honesty this is a stirring account of the origins of the Suffragettes as they campaigned and fought for the equal right to vote with their male counterparts. I knew some of the events discussed from the inside of the organisation but I had little idea of the complete intransigence of the government or the lengths the women were willing to go to in order to achieve what they believed they deserved as a right. There was honestly talk of an armed uprising which frankly astonished me. Where the Suffragettes of the WSPU a terrorist organisation? Arguably yes. I think they would certainly have been charged under the Anti-Terrorism laws we have in place today. They certainly used violence and the threat of violence to achieve political ends so, yes, that’s terrorism. Naturally such a view is both controversial and uncomfortable because they eventually won and, more importantly, they were right in their aim. Did they have any choice in their methods? Probably not. They advanced their agenda step by careful step using the least violent method until that had been shown to be ineffective before moving the ratchet another step forward. If the war had not intervened I’m confident that there would have been much more violent incidents and probably deaths. It’s actually surprising how few deaths did occur and how ultimately restrained most of the women where (more later on that subject).

I wasn’t prepared for just how good this narrative was. I guess I wasn’t expecting to identify so strongly with the women (and a few men) who fought for so long and so hard to be allowed to express their political opinion in the same way as men. By their actions they proved time and again that they had at least the fortitude, grit and determination to fight for their rights just as much as their male counterparts. They were most certainly not bubbleheaded baby makers. I can see why they eventually won their fight. They were simply never going to give up until they got their way. This was definitely one of the highlights of this year’s reading and I have been recommending it to everyone who will put up with me gushing about it. Being over 100 years old it’s a free Kindle download so there’s really no excuse. Very highly recommended. MUCH more to come from this interesting period of political history and the fight itself.

Just Finished Reading: A Higher Loyalty – Truth, Lies and Leadership by James Comey (FP: 2018)

The present incumbent of the White House, despite his MANY faults has been very good for three things – First: He’s made US politics unmissable on TV, Second: He’s putting a LOT of lawyers kids through College and Third: He’s created a whole publishing industry on his own which is much appreciated by authors and publishing houses across the globe. But in spite of being honestly entranced by the car crash Presidency of Donald Trump (which is much more ‘entertaining’ than our own train wreck politics of Brexit – especially from thousands of miles away) I had decided long ago that I wouldn’t read any books about it – yet. Despite the publication of (most of) the Mueller Report, which I have downloaded but haven’t read yet, there’s still much we don’t know about everything that’s been going on in the last few years so any book about Trump is necessarily going to be incomplete or just wrong – at least in places. I certainly had (and have) no intention or reading any of the existing or future ‘kiss and tell’ narratives that seem to come out on a regular basis. But, as with many things in my life, I do make exceptions. This was one of them.

Now I know of Comey (as a Trump watcher how could I not) but I knew almost nothing about him prior to his firing as Head of the FBI by Trump not long into his tenure at the White House. This book fills in a lot more of that background. This is very much a biography of Comey rather than about Trump per se. Comey goes back to his childhood experiences, his time in College and his decision to follow a career in Law. There’s also some very personal and very emotional insights into his life as a husband and father and of losing a child. It all goes to the character of the man himself, of who he is and why he went down the route he did and the decisions he made. Throughout the book Comey focuses on Leadership – both good and bad – from grocery store owners to Mafia bosses (with whom he interacted regularly during his time in New York as an attorney with SDNY). What was obvious to me though was that, at least for the first half of the narrative, Comey was looking back over his life and looking at both incidents and people through the filter provided by his experiences with Trump. More than once he made parallels between his experiences with the Mob and with Trump’s White House and most especially with his experience of being asked to provide personal loyalty to the President.

The second half of the book was more contemporary and somewhat less personally biographical. Not surprisingly a good chunk of it related to the investigation of Hillary Clinton’s e-mails and especially the re-opening of the investigation just prior to the 2016 Presidential election. Also, not surprisingly, Comey goes into great detail and makes a great effort to defend himself against accusations of giving the election to Trump. I disagree with this assessment for several reasons. For one it is clear that Clinton sent a significant number highly classified e-mail over a non-secure network. She might have done so in ignorance (which is no real excuse) and may well have done so unintentionally. They may not have resulted in a security breach but still the e-mails were sent. So the question remains who was ultimately responsible and what happened about it. It seems that the answer was no one and nothing. I honestly found this shocking. If that had happened over here, no matter who sent them, heads would roll and the high level Minister would at least be sacked if not jailed. Second, I don’t honestly think the initial investigation nor its subsequent re-opening affected the 2016 election that much. Sure Clinton was expected to win and no one really thought Trump had a chance but in this case (not really a shocker there) the pundits were wrong. I think Trump won for two reasons: the major reason was that people all across the world (and not just in the US) are sick and tired of ‘Business as Usual’. There are groups of significant numbers of people who feel themselves to have been ignored and side-lined (mostly because they have been) by mainstream politicians who took the opportunity to get their own back in the 2016 Presidential election and here in the Brexit Vote. Both events are symptoms of a deeper problem that has yet to be addressed. In the US Trump offered them (admittedly false) hope. Clinton (as perceived) did not. The other ‘elephant’ in the room is, I think (as my perception from someone who only ‘followed’ the election from far away) the Bernie question. The animosity between Clinton and Bernie supporters was real. So when Bernie lost the nomination I’m guessing that at least some of his supporters just couldn’t bring themselves to vote for the Democratic candidate so stayed at home. Despite winning the popular vote those stay at homes probably had enough of an impact (in conjunction with the much larger change factor) to ensure a Trump victory. Comey’s investigation of Hillary’s e-mail (I think) probably had a very minor impact blown out of proportion by the understandable size of the Democratic disappointment.

The final section of the book covered Comey’s shortened tenure as FBI Director first under Obama and then Trump. The contrasting styles between the two presidents could not have been starker and Comey brings this very much to the fore. When he was fired in May 2017 Comey was attending (or just about to attend) a recruitment event in LA. Fired with ‘immediate effect’ he first found out his new status as a private citizen when he saw it on a newscast being shown in the LA FBI building. At first he thought it was an elaborate joke. It wasn’t. Normally accompanied by armed guards and driven around in an armoured Suburban he was fully expecting to be dumped out on the street with no clear idea on how to get home to Washington. That, if nothing else, shows the kind of President he was expected to serve with loyalty.

From the perspective of someone lucky enough not to have ‘skin in the game’ this was an interesting a valuable insight not only into the Trump presidency but to US politics in general. I thought it very well written, rational and reasonable. Comey certainly explained his actions and thoughts well enough to understand them and agree with most if not all of them as something that I would have done in his place. After reading this I definitely feel the need for more insight and more analysis of the situation in the US and the wider western world. I’ll be looking to pick that up in the coming months (plans are already ‘a foot’). I shall definitely be picking up more books by ex-FBI and ex-Intelligence chiefs as they come out in paperback. I shall also be waiting to snap up the much needed later assessment (post 2020) of what exactly happened here and how it all fell apart in the end – presumably with a substantial index of who committed what crimes when and how long they expect to spend in prison because of it. Now that’ll be a book worth waiting for! Highly recommended for anyone interested in what’s really happening out there. (R6)

Just Finished Reading: Down and Out in Paris and London by George Orwell (FP: 1933)

In the late 1920’s George Orwell, then known by his real name Eric Blair, found himself close to abject poverty after having the majority of his money stolen from his room. Forced to look for any kind of paying work before his rent ran out and he was cast on to the streets of Paris he finally got lucky by gaining a position of a plongeur – the lowest of the low in a hotel hierarchy: a washer of dishes, a chopper of vegetables, someone who does any task that no one else will do, do it quickly, for 15-16 hours a day and for a subsistence wage. Already familiar with a strange host of characters from all over the Continent he found himself surrounded by Russian emigres, Italian thieves, and Romanian Communists. Everyone had a tragic story to tell, a reason for ending up and the bottom of the heap and some of them were even true – at least a little. With almost no disposable income, little prospect (but a lot of hope) for promotion and a deep fatigue caused by the long arduous hours of work followed by little sleep the only release was in cheap wine, loud company, bar fights and, very occasionally, a cheap prostitute. Orwell lasted several months in the position – briefly graduating to working flat out in a new restaurant – before returning to England. He was horrified to learn that other plongeurs do the job for decades just to keep their heads above water.

Aided by a friendly loan and the prospect of an easy job Orwell returned to London only to discover that his new post – looking after an invalid – had been delayed by a month. Once again flat bloke, only this time in London, he needed to adapt swiftly to his new circumstances and he did so by falling in with a series of tramps shuffling between hostels in the South East of England. Again each tramp had his story of how he fell on hard times and each showed, in their own way, a fortitude to continue when practically everything was taken from them. What made the experience that much worse was the way the Authorities made even straightforward things – like getting a bed for the night or some decent food – unnecessarily hard and, more to the point, demeaning. In the years before the Welfare State this was how the State treated the poor – as a burden to be shifted elsewhere rather than being dealt with at source.

Despite being well written I did start to struggle with this slim book (a mere 216 pages in my edition) thinking that it was all very well describing the lives of the poor in both London and Paris but where was the analysis – and then, after just over 100 pages, there it was, a devastating critique of not only the hotel system in France but the use of semi-literate workers to produce shoddy goods at minimum wage (practically starvation wages) in order to keep them ‘occupied and exhausted’ in order to prevent them raising up against their oppressors. Whereas, if the frightened ‘masters’ had spent any time actually talking to them they would have discovered that all most people want is a roof over their head, food in their bellies, a bed to sleep in and something to look forward to in their leisure time. Violent revolution hardly enters a single head – exhausted and poorly educated or not. Clearly, he repeatedly pointed out, the poor and the tramps are not different people from the rich (or simply the employed) they are essentially the same – just with vastly different resources.

I suppose that I shouldn’t have really but I was both surprised and a little disappointed that Orwell didn’t propose some kind of Welfare State to deal with the issue and consequences of widespread unemployment. Of course this is doing him a huge disservice. The Welfare State in its early incarnation was a consequence of decades of experience accumulated in the decades after Orwell’s time in Paris and London. He could hardly look 20 years ahead and pluck such ideas even partially formed out of thin air. This was an interesting read and a welcome reminder of what the poor had to suffer before the late 1940’s. No doubt there are those in the so-called higher echelons of society who would like to bring these days back when the poor where motivated by fear to ‘behave themselves’. With first-hand accounts of what that policy meant to the men and women at the bottom of society such as this still in circulation maybe we won’t have to fight those battles again any time soon. Recommended for all social and political historians.

Just Finished Reading: Revolutionary Suicide by Huey P Newton (FP: 1973)

After reading a previous book by a co-Founder of The Black Panther Party I couldn’t very well resist a biography of the senior partner. But what a different book this was. Where Bobby Searle’s memoirs where almost a chaotic ‘stream of consciousness’ this volume covering largely the same events and same time period was impressively structured and logically laid out. Where Searle’s narrative ran after ideas like hunting dogs chasing rabbits this memoir was tightly structured and analytical. It really didn’t surprise me that much to learn that the author had gained a PhD during his early political career.

Starting with a brief overview of his family history and his childhood living in varying degrees of poverty the narrative quickly moved to discuss his formative years in the rundown areas of Oakland, California. He neither glorified nor apologised for the low level crime he was responsible for justifying it in several ways. What I did find interested though was his response to a question of why he didn’t commit more crimes or bigger crimes to ‘live the high life’. His answer, as with much else in this intriguing biography, was multi-layered. More crime, he maintained, would put him at increased risk of being caught and doing serious prison time – something he was all too aware of. The increased wealth, he maintained, was illusory and could vanish in a second leaving little behind. Finally living a life of crime in order to live well in a Capitalist society was simply buying in to the underlying system with he was starting to question and reject. So, he committed only enough crime to rent an apartment, pay his way through college and to give him the free time to read books and politically educate himself. He was, very much, an enlightened petty crook!

But the question was: what to do with that political knowledge to help his community against predominantly white power oppression. Riots and uprisings, becoming all the more regular, achieved nothing more than more oppression and more black bodies in the morgue. The way out of this was to raise Black consciousness and give power to the people. To do this the original small number of Panthers began ‘patrolling’ the police – visibly armed. Not only did this raise their profile in the Black community it also gave the police pause whilst they worked out how to respond. Over the months ahead the Panthers became a fixture in Oakland and beyond as their fame spread. But, of course, it wouldn’t be long before the authorities responded. This began a long period of arrests for all of the major leaders of the party, infiltration by government agents, ideological splits and arguments, and an increasing number of deaths at the hands/guns of the police and other Black groups who felt threatened by the Panthers growing power and prominence in the Black Community. But I think what really called down the wrath of the white power structure was the start of grass roots programmes such as the Breakfast for Kids scheme and the offers of free legal aid and other assistance that was politicising an increasing number of Black voters. The final nail in the coffin, as far as the authorities were concerned was when the Panthers started to successfully reach out to other disaffected and disenfranchised poor groups in potentially revolutionary significant numbers. Such a thing could not be allowed to stand. Ending the narrative after his frankly bizarre fourth trail for a crime he did not commit this is an intriguing and often fascinating look at the building of a radical revolutionary group in a modern western state bringing to light the absurdities and contradictions inherent within Capitalism itself.

I’m glad that I read the three Black Power books in the sequence I did (completely by accident!). The Malcolm X book gave me an overview and a detailed insight into the problems and possible solutions. Searle’s biography gave me a rough and ready view from the ground of what was going on and this volume tied things together with theory and political philosophy to mean something. A must read for anyone interested in Black America. Next, after a short one book diversion, is a three book collection looking at the darker side of our technological future.        

Just Finished Reading: Seize the Time – The Story of The Black Panter Party and Huey P Newton by Bobby Searle (FP: 1970)

This was a strange and sometimes difficult read. Although I am becoming more familiar with US Urban Politics in the 1960’s and 1970’s some of the names and places are still a little fuzzy which can cause some confusion. More difficult to get used to, though I did eventually get the hang of it, was the use of urban black slang used throughout the book. Indeed, from the very beginning, the book read like an almost unmediated string of consciousness from the authors mind, jumping between topics before focusing back on his original thread to say nothing of seemingly random repetitions, which meant you really needed to concentrate on some sections of the book in order not to lose the thread. On top of this was the shotgun smattering of swear words and, naturally, the dreaded ‘N’ word that people get so touchy about these days.

But, once you got used to all of the above, the narrative (primitive though it felt at times) proved to be surprisingly gripping. Told very much in the first person – though focused throughout on the founder of the Party Huey P Newton – this was a detailed account of the birth of an admittedly revolutionary political party in modern day America. From the ground up to the States attempts to crush the movement we are given privileged access to the Parties philosophy – gleaned from Marx, Mao, Malcolm X and Frantz Fanon (of ‘The Wretched of the Earth’ fame) – its actions on the streets of California ‘shadowing’ police cars and patrolling with guns clearly visible and clearly loaded, its many run-ins with the authorities in the guise of local police, FBI and others, the legal cases against many in the leadership and the almost fanatical reaction from local, State and National government to prevent the power of the Panthers spreading.

The crunch came, from the authority’s point of view, when the Panthers started to organise outside of their black urban base. If it wasn’t bad enough that a political organisation had organically emerging within this disenfranchised group they then began an outreach programme contacting and developing relations with Hispanics, Chinese and (the final nail it seemed) with the white urban poor with whom they had so much in common. Their philosophy saw beyond mere colour and recognised the fact that the urban poor of both races had far more in common and especially far more grievances in common than anything which appeared at first glance to separate them. It is easy to see why the National and State apparatus where eager to put a stop to this sort of thing – most especially because the Panthers were not afraid to publically show that they had the means to violently defend themselves if necessary.

This is definitely an interesting contemporary insight into the revolutionary phenomena in the modern West. It stayed with me for quite a while after finishing it and I can definitely see why it became a classic text in the African-American community. Of course what makes this even more interesting is its relevance to the recent Black Lives Matter phenomena and the continuing violence directed at Black America. Definitely recommended to anyone interested in US Black History and the founding of radical political parties in the modern world.

Just Finished Reading: Testament of Youth by Vera Brittain (FP: 1933)

After much haranguing of a much put-upon father a young Vera Brittain is finally allowed to try for a place at Oxford. Seen by many as an indulgent waste of money (after all what good is a University education without a degree to show for it to a woman who will be getting married soon enough) Vera must work hard to overcome both prejudice and a barely adequate education up to that point. Against all expectations she is offered a place at Somerville College, Oxford and starts her new life in the final months of 1914. Weeks after she enrols the country is at war with the Central Powers and her brother, his school friends and the man she is beginning to fall in love with join the Army for a host of reasons. Not wanting to sit out her time in the educational isolation of Oxford Vera volunteers as a nurse in order to ‘do something useful’ for the war effort. Expecting a short sharp war, like many others, she had no idea that she would be spending the next four years dressing wounds, emptying bed pans and watching soldiers from both sides die in front of her.

As the war grinds on and the casualty’s mount Vera volunteers for overseas service now that she has completed her basic training in London. Burdened by the deaths of her friends and especially her lover she managed to recover somewhat during a year in Malta treating the wounded from the Middle Eastern campaigns. Returning to London to look after her ailing mother she returns to nursing and finally is posted to France working in a casualty clearing station not far from the front lines. Thankful that her brother is posted to the quieter Italian Front just as the 1918 massive German assault smashes against the Allied lines in France she is never busier or more exhausted when her mother calls her home again. Torn between duty and family she chooses family and has a black mark put against her military nursing career and will never work abroad again. Whilst at home the much feared telegram arrives: ‘Regret to inform you that…..’ her brother is dead – killed by a sniper in the Italian Alps. Numb from so much personal tragedy she somehow carries on until the Armistice and leaves nursing behind to continue her education – not in English but in History to try to discover how the world could have walked into such a catastrophe and to find a way of stopping it happening again. This, she determines, will be her life’s work from now on.

This is one of the classic biographies of WW1 and has been continually in print since its first publication in 1933. Filmed as a BBC series in 1979 with Cheryl Campbell as Vera and as a movie in 2014 starring Alicia Vikander as the author. Part cathartic exercise, part testimony, part polemic against the culture that produced the war in the first place and then steadfastly refused to learn from their obvious mistakes this is an interesting look at the home front in WW1 and how the fighting (and dying) had effects on the personal lives of those left behind. The constant fear of a ‘push’, the wait for a letter (or the much worse unexpected telegram), the reading of the lengthening casualty lists in the newspapers and the worsening conditions brought on by rationing, the U-Boat blockade and zeppelin raids all made life back home difficult at best. It’s no surprise that after the war Vera worked hard for the much maligned League of Nations to stop future wars from happening – of course somewhat ironically her memoir/biography was published in the same year that Hitler came to power in Germany. Running in parallel was her concerns over the conditions of the poor (yet oddly there’s little in here apart from a few paragraphs regarding unemployment during the Great Depression) and the growing struggle for women’s rights in all areas. As an early Feminist this biography became a rallying cry to all women of her generation and beyond to grasp their place in the sun.

Although I certainly found this interesting enough and I was glad that I had finally read this deservedly classic work I did have more than a little trouble actually liking the author. I most certainly sympathised with her losses and deeply admired her commitment to the nursing profession but there was something about her attitude that grated all the way through the book. I think it was, as she admits herself, the fact that she never really threw off her Victorian upbringing with all that implies. I couldn’t help but find her something of a snob and despite agreeing with much of her thought never really warmed to her. But maybe that says more about me than her. After all it was a very, very different age back then and no doubt she would be deeply shocked at the world today – if she could cope with it for 10 minutes without simply passing out in horror! This is most definitely a valuable document and a must read for anyone interesting in WW1 or the early days of European Feminism.

So ends my double-headed (Fact & Fiction) books into movies series. It’s been a very interesting experience and there will be more fiction into films to come. But now back to normal (and interrupted) programming!

Just Finished Reading: Strangers on a Bridge – The Case of Colonel Abel by James B Donovan (FP: 1964)

New York, 1957. Approaching the height of the Cold War and with Soviet paranoia rife at all levels of American society a spy is uncovered and swiftly brought to justice. But to show that America is really the land of the free with enforced rights for all – no matter who they are – a lawyer of quality is sought to defend him. That particular poison chalice is accepted by the author of this book played quite superbly by Tom Hanks in the 2015 Masterpiece ‘Bridge of Spies’. As you might imagine though the reality of the case and Hollywood’s portrayal of it are at times quite different. Not surprisingly the book, written after all by a practicing lawyer concentrates on the case against his client, Colonel Abel (again played superbly by Mark Rylance), the evidence against him and the varying strategies to minimise the prosecution’s case. If you’re a lawyer (or a legal nerd), especially an American lawyer, no doubt you’ll love this bit. Although I found it interesting enough I did struggle a bit and honestly found it a bit of a slog. I wasn’t too fazed by the Constitutional aspects brought out as I’ve seen enough US crime and courtroom drama’s to get the gist of this sort of thing without completely losing the plot.

What I did find far more interesting was what happened later – both with the infamous Gary Powers U2 Incident and with the author travelling to East Germany to negotiate his release (in exchange for Abel) along with two other American’s held by the Soviet’s on spying charges. The second civilian was dropped from the movie but that didn’t detract from the overall drama of the negotiation process which was both simplified and complicated in the movie version. Oddly in both the book and the movie the main Soviet negotiator (played yet again superbly by Michael Gorevoy in the screen adaptation) came across very well. You knew exactly where he was coming from – despite hiding his true identity as a very high level KGB operative – and he definitely came across in both media as a man you could do business with just so long as you kept reminding yourself exactly who and what he was.

I can definitely see what this story was made into a film. It’s a very human story surrounded by some very historic events. However, despite rating the movie as one of the best in that year (if not THE best film of the year IMHO) I was disappointed to learn that at least one very dramatic incident in the movie never happened. The shooting through the window of Tom Hank’s residence is not mentioned at all in the narrative. I doubt very much if the author would’ve skipped over that bit considering that he covered much more hat did make it into the movie. I understand the need to make the story dramatic but this level of invention sticks in my craw more than a little. OK, turn things up a few notches for effect but not to this level. That said, if you’ve seen the movie and enjoyed it anywhere as much as I did then this will be a nice addition to that enjoyment and it does fill in many of the questions raised by the movie. It is dry on occasion but if you have an interest in American jurisprudence that’ll help quite a bit. Not exactly riveting but still recommended.      

Just Finished Reading: The Autobiography of Malcolm X with the assistance of Alex Haley (FP: 1965)

This was yet another of those books picked up on impulse in a second hand bookshop somewhere only to languish on my shelves for year after year until (more often than not) decades has passed. Why I picked this particular book all of those years ago I no longer have any idea. I suppose that, just like now, I felt the need to read famous – or in this case infamous – books in order to eventually fulfil my idea of being well-read. It seems like a good an excuse as any.

Well, finally I got around to reading it in good part because the 50th anniversary of the founding of The Black Panthers has not long past us by. I understand that Malcolm X influenced that foundation – although exactly how I’m unsure at present – so it seemed like a good place to start. I did actually start reading this with some trepidation. It is, as you can imagine, rather out of my comfort zone despite being politically radical even today. My knowledge of Black politics, Black activism, the Civil Rights movement and even something as fundamental as Racism is limited to the kind of thing you pick up whilst reading about or watching something else. I knew of the existence of Malcolm X, the Nation of Islam and his radically different stand on Black politics in contrast to the other great icon of Black Rights – Martin Luther King – but almost nothing of the details of his life or his struggle. I know much more now.

I had heard that this book was essentially racist and I can see why people would say that. An obvious example of that is the countless use of the ‘N’ word (which I won’t use) which to be honest took a lot of getting used to. I was several hundred pages in before I stopped winching every time Malcolm X used the word or told tales of others using it. I can also see why people would call Malcolm himself racist as, almost throughout the entirety of the book, he consistently called the white people he came into contact with ‘devils’. Knowing more about his personal and family history I can understand why he came to that opinion. With a dead Father, institutionalised Mother and siblings scattered across the State (all seemingly the result of the actions of whites) I’m not at all surprised he thought that.

Malcolm’s slide into crime (gambling, drugs, and robbery) was told at length and did start to become tedious after a while. Likewise his redemption in prison prompted by his brother who had come across the teachings of a Muslim guru and subsequent conversion into and activities of The Nation of Islam went on far longer than necessary to get his point across. There were interesting snippets along the way, just enough to keep me going forward, but it was honestly a slog at times to turn the next page. Then, quite close to the end, it got interesting. Indeed very interesting. Malcolm X went to Mecca on a pilgrimage and came back a very changed man.

I most definitely wouldn’t call myself any kind of expert on Islam but, throughout most of the book, I thought the Malcolm X’s knowledge of that religion seemed ‘off’ in some way. He relied in most things on the words and interpretation of his guru and his reading of (largely I think) American books around the subject and on Black History. It was only when, as a celebrity, he went on the pilgrimage that he was introduced to actual Islam unmediated by a guru that he began to see the distortions he had taking as ‘gospel’. But the biggest revelation was how he was treated in Arabia and Africa by people of all races (indeed he reflected on how well he was treated ‘even by white people’ in Europe). It was the start of a process of epiphany where he realised that the treatment of the Black population in America was much less of a race issue as a particularly American cultural issue. That was not to say that racism didn’t exist outside America but that it was on a different order of things within the borders of the US. Repeatedly Malcolm X expressed his shock at being treated as just another human being (despite being black) by many people he met on his travels and more shockingly (despite being black) treated with respect by some of the world’s leaders – and not just those who could get something from him and not just those who happened to be born into dark skin. From those days Malcolm X began to change his mind about things, change his ideas, change his plans and to become very, very dangerous to those who could previously label him as a dangerous (but foolhardy and delusional) minority Black leader. With his new found, and developing, maturity and especially with the ear of non-aligned and Third World leaders Malcolm X became, for the first time, potentially destabilising on a truly Global stage. It came as little surprise that, not long after realising that much of what he has previously thought was indeed wrong that he was assassinated in 1965 just before this book was published. I couldn’t help but think what might have happened if he had living and had been allowed to put his maturing ideas in print to allow their spread not only within the US but across the world. I think there’s a distinct possibility that the world of race relations could have been very different indeed.

For a modern white liberal audience this is not an easy book to read. It was written in an arguably much more racist time and it shows. Reading it more than 50 years after the events and thousands of miles away on the other side of the Atlantic with almost no experience of racism to call on I often found it bizarre and surreal. This did not help its readability. But I do think it’s worth the effort if only for the last 100 pages in which Malcolm X examined his own prejudices and found them wanting – so changed his mind! I don’t think many people could do that so completely and so publically and I was honestly impressed by his search for the truth no matter where it led and no matter how much intellectual pain he needed to bare to get him there. Impressive if you can make it to the end.

Just Finished Reading: Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell (FP: 1938)

In late 1936, along with many other men of his generation, Eric Blair travelled to war torn Spain to do something about the Fascist tide sweeping across Europe. Largely ignorant of war but full of naïve hope the book was a record of his experiences during the country’s Civil War. Staying for about a year – before being severally wounded – he spent most of his time at the front lines trying to keep warm and find food. Mostly he looked across at the enemy lines and wondered if anything was going to happen that day or the day after. Blair – who is rather better known under his literary name of George Orwell – felt that he was largely wasting his time although he tried his best to train the soldiers under him how to keep their rather obsolete rifles clean and the rudiments of military practise. Back in Barcelona he became tangentially involved in the sudden in-fighting between various left-wing factions in the city. Having fought with the Anarchists and their Socialist allies this became his natural home in the street fighting that followed. This, on top of everything else he had already experienced in Spain, turned him forever against the Communists directed from Moscow. After their duplicity in Spain he had no trouble understanding their later non-aggression pact with Hitler that caused so much anguish amongst Communists throughout the West. Not for Blair/Orwell the need to leave the Party or the forced mental contortions of those who stayed behind and who had to justify this unexpected volte-face. He had seen the Soviets for what they were at first hand and had – just – lived to tell the tale.

This, the political side of Orwell’s experiences in Spain (partially relegated to a few annexes in my edition), was the part that most fascinated me. I knew of some of the in-fighting that emasculated if not destroyed the Left’s ability to beat their more unified opponents on the Right but it was stimulating to get if from someone who had actually experienced it himself. It was clear from Orwell’s account that political ideology from the Communist side always trumped military or any other kind of logic. Hundreds of loyal Spanish fighters who were totally dedicated to fighting against Fascism where arrested and, some at least, executed because they would not bend to the Soviet way of doing things. Again, luckily for Orwell, he saw the way the wind was blowing and managed to get out of Spain before he was arrested.

Although I knew that Orwell had been injured in Spain I hadn’t appreciated just how serious the injury was and just how lucky he was to survive. Shot in the throat he was not expected to survive the trip to hospital. The bullet apparently missed a major artery in his neck by millimetres. A small distance in one direction and his writing career would have ended with a handful of books to his name and, possibly, a footnote in English literary history. Imagine, for a moment, a world culture without Animal Farm or 1984. A fraction of an inch separates the two worlds!

Whilst not exactly gripping or a great page turner this is worth the time and effort to read – especially if you’ve read 1984 and ever wondered where some of the ideas came from. It’s also worth the read to see war, and a rather chaotic civil war at that, from the ground by someone who was there. I am definitely coming to see contemporary first-hand accounts of historic events as a valuable means of getting to the heart of the action. An interesting and probably significant work.    

Just Finished Reading: The Captive Mind by Czeslaw Milosz

I’m not entirely sure why I bought this. It certainly isn’t my normal sort of read. Maybe it was because the blub sounded interesting, or that I found the cover picture [The bronze sculpture Listening to History by Bill Woodrow] intriguing. Maybe I just felt the need to read outside of my normal comfort zone. In any case I had no real idea what I was letting myself in for.

The Captive Mind has several strands to it. It is part autobiography, part history and part socio-psychological analysis. The author, writing in Paris in 1950/51 after defecting from his native Poland – then under Soviet rule – tries in an almost defensive manner to understand why he felt the need to leave his homeland and choose a life of self-imposed exile. He is, in effect, attempting to come to terms with that life changing decision. On one level the whole book is his justification to himself of why he was writing in Paris and not Warsaw. To justify such an event he calls upon the mindset of those who have adapted, or have attempted to adapt, to life under a totalitarian Soviet style Communist regime. In a series of detailed case studies of men and women he knew well the author describes the hoops that each has had to jump through and the positions they bend their minds in to accommodate the new way of thinking. Those who failed early on were often killed by the authorities (either directly with a bullet in the back of the head or worked to death in camps). Those who, through luck or effort, managed to live a double life – outwardly conformist but inwardly free – went mad with the pressure and either cracked in public (and then where executed or internally exiled) or ended up committing suicide. The few who could bend their minds to think dialectically survived in some form but effectively killed their personality to do so. The author – both unable to submit but likewise unable and unwilling to contort his own mind – decided on external exile as the only reasonable option left open to him.

The autobiographical strand of this book was often harrowing. Growing up in Poland in the 1920’s and 30’s he saw his country grow weak and internally divided. He experienced both the German and Russian invasions and lived through both Nazi and Soviet occupation. The things he saw, the things he and his friends witnessed can hardly be described in words. It is a wonder that anyone can stay sane under those conditions. With the end of the war and as a recognised poet, the author had, for a time at least, a privileged position in Soviet society as long as he wrote in a way that he was directed to write – using Soviet Realism. No other form was allowed. No expression of individuality was allowed or countenanced. Freedom of thought could not exist even in your own head. Slowly the parameters of free expression narrowed until nothing was left. It was, he felt, the very death of the spirit. So he had no other choice and left everything he loved behind.

Of course this book was hugely controversial at the time – especially amongst those who heaped praise upon the Soviet experiment. Milosz was less than popular with the Left which, of course, deepened his isolation. However, as his book won the Nobel Prize for Literature it seems that he was doing something right. Indeed he was. Often beautifully written this is an amazing work. Deeply personal, greatly incisive and often disturbing this is a must read for anyone who thinks that the worlds problems can be solved by the imposition of any State ideology that is divorced from common humanity. It is an important book that should be taught in schools across the world. Not just for its devastating critique of Soviet Communism but for it’s championing of human freedom. Highly recommended.