The Irregulars by Jennet Conant

Source of book: I own this.

Did you know that before he was a beloved children’s author known for subversive and quirky books that independent-spirited kids have loved for decades, Roald Dahl was a British spy? And not only was he a spook, but he spied on the United States on behalf of Britain?

Neither did I.

But it is true. Dahl was injured in an airplane crash while part of the RAF early in World War II, and was assigned to the British Embassy in Washington D.C. as part of a public relations campaign in support of the Lend Lease program. While he was touring and telling his stories (and writing the famous Disney wartime propaganda book, The Gremlins), he was recruited by the British Security Coordination (BSC), a thinly disguised spy agency headed by Canadian William Stephenson.

Dahl ran with the social set in DC, and spent time with the Roosevelts and other politicians, newspaperman Charles Edward Marsh (who astonishingly does not even have a Wikipedia page, despite his influence which rivaled William Randolph Hearst), actors, and a plethora of socialites in and around Washington. His job was two-fold. First, he was to keep his ears open for interesting information - and there is evidence he passed along plenty of that. His second was to engage in counter-espionage - particularly by countering the narrative of the “American First” elements and other Nazi-sympathetic groups. It was interesting to read of the BSC from the other side: I had already read Winston Churchill’s World War II series, and he mentioned the work done through official and unofficial channels, but this gave a better “on the ground” view.

Reconstructing this story was not terribly easy, as good spies don’t leave behind incriminating evidence, and their own stories of what they did are not, shall we say, likely to be the most reliable. However, Ms. Conant pulls from a variety of sources to reconstruct a good deal of what happened from what Dahl was allowed to write down and what others in the business had to say afterward.

Dahl was hardly the only literary figure. Noel Coward worked in the same agency. Ian Fleming (of James Bond fame) worked fairly closely with Dahl. There were a number of other names that I recognized, both British and American. The line between friend and foe was a bit fine, particularly because Roosevelt was generally on the side of the British interests, and encouraged the BSC. Likewise, the official diplomats tended to hate the spooks, and tried to undermine them. It is rather fascinating stuff. 

The other characters in this book are interesting as well, from author-turned-congresswoman Clare Boothe Luce to actor Gregory Powers. Ms. Conant takes time to explore the lives of many of the close associates of Dahl, and how they fit into the political and social structure of the time. 

 Dahl and Hemingway

Also of particular interest to me, with my love for aviation and knowledge of the history of the airlines was the negotiations between the British and the Americans over the future of commercial aviation. Long before the war ended, the two bickered over the use of airfields built by each party around the world, whether commercial aviation should be a monopoly or a free for all. Complicating this was the fact that Pan Am was politically powerful, and the Brits were probably right that the negotiations were largely dictated by corporate lobbyists.

A few observations from this book: if anything, politics is even dirtier than spy work. Good lord, the skulduggery. I felt like taking a bath after reading some of this stuff. Also, anyone who tells you sexual mores are worse now hasn’t really read much history. Our current president would have fit right in with the 1940s culture, where rich men could marry and discard women at will, harassment was accepted as a matter of course, and nobody blinked at the history of abortions beautiful women had to hid their affairs. Pretty sordid stuff, and a reminder that in matters of morals, the only question that really mattered (and to a large degree still matters) is how much money and power you have. A star really could get away with just about anything.

There are also some outstanding quotes in this book, that are worth it even if they weren’t part of a larger narrative.

Lord Mountbatten’s distant nephew, Ivar Bryce, was a friend of Dahl’s, and not the most reputable one either. Bryce was born into wealth, and never really had to grow up. Mountbatten once said of him:

“It’s terrible, the advantages he’s had to overcome.”

David Ogilvy was another young spook who figures prominently in this story. He spent time working with George Gallup, who was essentially inventing the art of polling at the time, and later observed about research:

“There is no great trick to doing research. The problem is to get people to use it - particularly when the research reveals that you have been making mistakes. Most people have a tendency to use research as a drunkard uses a lamppost - for support, not for illumination.”

Isn’t THAT the truth.

Finally, there is one rather chilling and prescient passage. Stephenson believed that Americans were easily duped, and that therefore, he had to do his best to dupe them better than the opposition. To this effect, he employed some pretty ludicrous propaganda, including astrologers to predict Hitler’s fall. As he said about it later:

“It is unlikely that any propagandist would seriously attempt to influence politically the people of England, say, or France through the medium of astrological predictions. Yet in the United States this was done with effective if limited results.”

This is a lesson that was apparently not lost on certain foreign powers in the runup to our last election. I found I had seriously overestimated the ability of my countrymen to identify obvious falsehoods and fake news, but so many preferred to believe propaganda that supported their political preferences.

This is a fascinating look at a complex man, interesting times, and a lesser-known facet of a famous conflict.

The Nutmeg of Consolation by Patrick O'Brian

Source of book: I own this.

This is book 14 in O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin series, so I won’t duplicate what I have already written about the past couple of installments. Previous reviews are linked here:

The Letter of Marque

The Thirteen Gun Salute

This book continues the tale begun in the last book. Jack and Stephen and their crew have been shipwrecked on an island in the South Pacific, leaving them with a dwindling food supply and only a slim chance of escape.

O’Brian manages to get them off the island, and into a new ship, this one a loaner until they can reuninte with The Surprise, the privateer owned by Stephen, and Jack’s favorite ship.

This ship, a recently restored vessel that had been sunk in shallow water, is named The Nutmeg of Consolation after a phrase used in the previous book by the ruler of the kingdom central to that book. In my opinion, this is the best book title in the entire series.

Like previous installments, this book is based on the actual annals of the British Navy. Obviously some things have been changed, as one captain couldn’t possibly have all these adventures, and they would take far more total time than they did in the books. Still, there is a high degree of realism. The complicated nature of the plots come from their basis in fact.

The plot leads from the island to yet another ingenious plan by Captain Aubrey to engage a superior French vessel, to an extended episode in Australia back when it was a penal colony. As with many of the other books, this one forms merely a part of an extended story spanning several books, and thus should not be attempted on its own. In fact, it would be folly to start the series anywhere except at the beginning. The only exception might be that one could, in a pinch, skip the first book. But even then, the background from that book, which stands alone as few of the books do, can be helpful in understanding the rest. Best to read from the beginning, understanding that one is really starting a 20 volume tale.

As in all of the books, the dialogue and the characters are the best part. (See my previous reviews for more on this.)

A few things stood out about this particular book. First, O’Brian is brutal in his description of the treatment of the prisoners in the Australian penal colonies. I was strongly reminded of the treatment of slaves in the United States. Brutality is indeed a human trait. A horrid human trait, but one that is disturbingly universal. We seem to have this built in desire to inflict immense pain on our fellow man.

Another heartrending passage occurred when the ship stops by an island to take in water. Nearly the entire population is dead, however, from smallpox. It is easy to forget, now that vaccinations have eliminated that horrific disease, how it destroyed great swaths of people, particularly those not previously exposed. In this case, two young girls are all that remain of the entire island. And this wasn’t particularly unusual. One could write a whole book on the way that smallpox destroyed non-European races during this time in history.

There was one final thing that really struck me. Stephen Maturin is the most thoughtful person in the entire series, probably because he is a spy, but also because he is a bastard, an Irish Catholic though in the British navy and secret service, and a rather unattractive man. He marries Diana, who is the most interesting and flawed female in the books, but has a troubled relationship with her. At one point in this book, he believes he has lost the bulk of his fortune through a bank failure. He isn’t that concerned about the personal hardship, because he really doesn’t care about wealth. He does, however, worry about the effect this might have on his marriage. Diana has resources of her own, and they won’t starve in any case. But Stephen worries about the shift in “moral advantage” within the marriage.

As Stephen thinks it, “moral advantage” is the enemy of marriage. In a good marriage, the balance is equal. Neither party feels superior to the other. As part of Stephen’s thoughts, he recalls the marriage of some relatives of his, who start out happy, but end up in a competition of who can sacrifice more for the other - and make the other feel that debt. (In this case, for example, the wife spends the value of the presents her husband gives her for prayers and masses for his soul.) I’m afraid the divorce attorney in me recognized too many clients in this one. Particularly the women who can’t resist reminding their (now ex) husbands what a sacrifice it was to be a housewife. Or how much they have given up for God. Moral advantage is indeed the enemy of marriage - and of love.

As always, I highly recommend Patrick O’Brian as perhaps the best modern historical fiction. Sadly, he passed in 2000, so there will be no more of these outstanding books. At least the ones he wrote can keep one busy for a while. These books are well written, well researched, and contain outstanding dialogue and memorable characters.

Reading with my Kids: The Jungle Books by Rudyard Kipling

Source of book: I own both Jungle Books

As regular followers of this blog recall, I participate in an online book club, hosted by my friend Carrie at readingtoknow.com. This is our second year, and we are focusing on classics - an even mix of adult and children’s books. This month’s selection was the The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling. Although only the first book was officially selected, I and others decided to read both books..

My first experience of The Jungle Book came as a small child, when my mother read “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi” to us. With all the good sound effects.

I believe this was before I had even seen the Disney movie based on the stories. (Yes, back in the dark ages when I was a kid, Disney movies were re-released in the theaters occasionally, but were difficult to find - even as video rentals - otherwise. Now, Disney has realized that immense sums of money can be made off of their back library.)

I later read through both books a couple of times. This time, I decided to read them to the kids.

The books were a little bit of a stretch for my two youngest, but the older kids thoroughly enjoyed them.

Kaa in particular was popular with my snake-loving older son. He was laughing uproariously during the scene in “Kaa’s Hunting” when Kaa paralyzes the chattering monkeys.

Kaa glided out into the center of the terrace and brought his jaws together with a ringing snap that drew all the monkey’s eyes upon him.

“The moon sets,” he said. “Is there yet light to see?”

From the walls came a moan like the wind in the tree-tops: “We see, O Kaa.”

“Good. Begins now the Dance - the Dance of the Hunger of Kaa. Sit still and watch.”

He turned twice or thrice in a big circle, weaving his head from right to left. Then he began making loops and figures of eight with his body, and soft, oozy triangles that melted into squares and five-sided figures, and coiled mounds, never resting, never hurrying, and never stopping his low, humming song. It grew darker and darker, till at last the dragging, shifting coils disappeared, but they could hear the rustle of the scales.

In the Disney cartoon, Kaa’s hypnotic powers are used against Mowgli, of course, rather than the monkeys; but they took inspiration from the book. (See below.)

In general, those expecting Kipling’s original to resemble the cartoon will be disappointed. Kipling isn't generally known for being a humorist. There are moments here and there, but in general one is more likely to find excitement and earnest adventure than comic relief. This isn’t a bad thing. Kipling writes a good short story, and his novels are also fun - particularly for boys. (I’ll particularly recommend Captains Courageous and Kim for children. Puck of Pook’s Hill for high schoolers - an underrated book.)

Also, the books are roughly half “Mowgli” stories, and half other, unrelated stories. Some of the stand-alone stories are set in India, while others are set in the Arctic - which seems a bit funny for a “jungle” book, but there you are. With the exception of “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” I think the Mowgli stories are stronger than the others.

An Adjutant Bird, which features in “The Undertakers.”

Because I think it is a really cool bird.

Ones I particularly like are “Letting in the Jungle,” “Her Majesty’s Servants,” and “The King’s Ankus.” I appreciated “Red Dog” more than I did when I was young, and was rather surprised that the kids liked it. It is pretty darn scary, and has more death in it than most of the others. That whole scene with the bees, though. That is one well written and paced, tension filled tour-de-force. Perhaps too dark for Disney, but that seems made for the movies.

The kids, though, adored the unforgettable mongoose. I think I did the sound effects pretty well. Maybe as well as my mom. Maybe. The kids liked them well enough. Again, filled with suspense and danger - and some pretty good trash talking too.

I will have to complain just a little, though, about having to explain Colonialism to the kids. I didn’t pay that much attention when I was little to the constant use of the term “white man.” Kipling is well known, of course, for his Colonialist attitudes. He was even a bit controversial in his own day. Still, it felt weird the way that “white man” stood in for “English.” He used that term too, but often, the color was enough to denote all the glory of the British Empire. Likewise, he tends to use his opportunities to contrast the civilized English with the “savage” ways of the Indians. He’s not entirely wrong. I could write quite a bit on India’s ongoing and longstanding problems with class and gender. (From the Caste system, which still classifies some as “untouchable” to the custom of “Suttee” and the modern gang rapes which make headlines. Also, for a compelling account of the transition from British rule to self government, I highly recommend Nirad Choudhury’s second autobiography, Thy Hand, Great Anarch. Hands down one of the best non-fiction works I have read in the last five years.)

Still, it seems a bit gratuitous in the context of the stories. (I particularly dislike “The White Seal” - in which it is the white seal that leads his darker brethren to paradise, because they lack the ability to look beyond their day-to-day life to the possibilities of establishing a civilization.)

I’ll also complain about the fact that in “Quiquern” - and, come to think of it - the only females who get names are the mothers. It is Kotuko and “the girl,” even though she is a key part of the adventure. Couldn’t she at least get a name?

On the other hand, Kipling does create imaginative renderings of his animal characters. (One of the reasons I like “Her Majesty’s Servants” is the way he translates the animal characteristics into personalities and dialogue. You really can imagine each animal talking that way. Likewise, in the advice and illustrations Baloo and Bagheera and Kaa give fit with their natural characteristics. Here is some of “The Outsong,” the poem of the final words given to Mowgli as he leaves the jungle.

Kaa:

Anger is the egg of Fear--

Only lidless eyes are clear.

Cobra-poison none may leech.

Even so with Cobra-speech.

Open talk shall call to thee

Strength, whose mate is Courtesy.

Send no lunge beyond thy length;

Lend no rotten bough thy strength.

Gauge thy gape with buck or goat,

Lest thine eye should choke thy throat,

After gorging, wouldst thou sleep?

Look thy den is hid and deep,

Lest a wrong, by thee forgot,

Draw thy killer to the spot.

East and West and North and South,

Wash thy hide and close thy mouth.

(Pit and rift and blue pool-brim,

Middle-Jungle follow him!)

Wood and Water, Wind and Tree,

Jungle-Favour go with thee!

In fact, the poems are an underrated facet of this book. Kipling was a skilled poet, and his best poems are memorable. As with the stories, some have aged poorly, but ones like “If,” his paean to stoical self control and dedication to principle are still relevant today.

The Jungle Books are imaginative and original, and do make a good read-aloud selection for older kids. Like Tom Sawyer, they also can spark a bit of a discussion about race and privilege; and also the importance of separating out the messages from the excellent writing. Because Kipling really does write very well. A little critical thinking can tease out the thrill of the story and the excellent ideas of honor, loyalty, truth, and disregard for the false promises of wealth from the cultural dross.

And really, go read your kid “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi” today. Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!

Note on Sterling Holloway:

Kaa has always been my favorite character from the Disney movie. (My mom’s too. She talked about him before we got to see the movie in its theater re-release.) Here is the key scene:

I love how Kipling’s vision of the coils which are ever changing in shape are rendered in the animation.

The character is voiced by Sterling Holloway, who is probably my favorite voice actor of the era. (Yeah, even beating out Mel Blanc by a hair. Maybe. I’m on the fence.)

In addition to Kaa (and his counterpart, Sir Hiss from Robin Hood), Holloway also voiced the grownup Flower in Bambi, the original Winnie-the-Pooh, Roquefort in The Aristocats, and the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. That’s a pretty unforgettable bunch. And they will always sound like Sterling Holloway in my head.

Note on “The White Man’s Burden”:

Probably this poem caused more problems for Kipling’s reputation than any of his other works. (Indeed, this poem brought the phrase into the lexicon.) He wrote it as an encouragement to Theodore Roosevelt to colonize the Philippines. There is one school of thought that says that he intended it more ironically than it appears on its face. However, the bulk of Kipling’s work would tend to support the idea that he meant it exactly as it reads: fully in favor of the White Man’s duty to dominate the world.

Opinions differ on whether American involvement in the Philippines was predominantly negative or positive, of course; particularly in light of the prior Spanish colonization. History is messy in any case, and the “what ifs” can never truly be answered. Regardless, the poem is pretty striking in its arrogance. Read it for yourself and make up your own mind.

Take up the White Man's burden--

Send forth the best ye breed--

Go bind your sons to exile

To serve your captives' need;

To wait in heavy harness,

On fluttered folk and wild--

Your new-caught, sullen peoples,

Half-devil and half-child.

Take up the White Man's burden--

In patience to abide,

To veil the threat of terror

And check the show of pride;

By open speech and simple,

An hundred times made plain

To seek another's profit,

And work another's gain.

Take up the White Man's burden--

The savage wars of peace--

Fill full the mouth of Famine

And bid the sickness cease;

And when your goal is nearest

The end for others sought,

Watch sloth and heathen Folly

Bring all your hopes to nought.

Take up the White Man's burden--

No tawdry rule of kings,

But toil of serf and sweeper--

The tale of common things.

The ports ye shall not enter,

The roads ye shall not tread,

Go mark them with your living,

And mark them with your dead.

Take up the White Man's burden--

And reap his old reward:

The blame of those ye better,

The hate of those ye guard--

The cry of hosts ye humour

(Ah, slowly!) toward the light:--

"Why brought he us from bondage,

Our loved Egyptian night?"

Take up the White Man's burden--

Ye dare not stoop to less--

Nor call too loud on Freedom

To cloke your weariness;

By all ye cry or whisper,

By all ye leave or do,

The silent, sullen peoples

Shall weigh your gods and you.

Take up the White Man's burden--

Have done with childish days--

The lightly proferred laurel,

The easy, ungrudged praise.

Comes now, to search your manhood

Through all the thankless years

Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,

The judgment of your peers!

Note on “If”:

I can’t leave a review of Kipling on a sour note. I really do love reading his works, both prose and poetry. I loved “If” the first time I read it, and still think that we would do well to impress its thoughts on our sons - and our daughters too.

IF you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!