The hundred days

As the latest Aubrey-Maturin adventure opens, Napoleon is reestablishing himself in France, the Allies are mobilizing armies to remove him, newly widowed Stephen Maturin is as good a doctor and as clumsy aloft as ever, and Jack Aubrey is flying a commodore's broad pendant at the head of a motley squadron of frigates and light vessels sent to the Mediterranean. The heroes end up with two missions: prevent the fitting-out of Bonapartist warships in the eastern Mediterranean and intercept a shipment of gold intended to pay Moslem mercenaries to march against Austria and Russia. Employing their own varied skills and the help of a Jewish doctor cum jewel dealer and translator, they survive the perils of the sea, the intrigues of the Arabs, the aggressiveness of hunted lions, and the obtuseness of their own superiors. And, of course, they execute both missions in fine style. O'Brian's is the finest depiction of sailing warfare since C. S. Forester's in the Hornblower tales, and he also brings to life the society of Napoleonic Europe like no one else since Georgette Heyer laid down her writing brush. Not supplying Aubrey-Maturin fandom with this volume would be the equivalent of wantonly stopping the crew's grog, and loud protest, if not outright mutiny, would certainly be the result. --Roland Green

The Aubrey-Maturin series (The Commodore, etc.) nears the two dozen mark the way it began, with colorful historical background, smooth plotting, marvelous characters and great style. The title refers to Napoleon's escape from Elba and brief return to power. Capt. Jack Aubrey must stop a Moorish galley, loaded with gold for Napoleon's mercenaries, from making its delivery. The action takes us into two seas and one ocean and continues nearly nonstop until the climax in the Atlantic. We're quickly reacquainted with the two heroes: handsome sea dog Jack Aubrey, by now a national hero, and Dr. Stephen Maturin, Basque-Irish ship's doctor, naturalist, English spy and hopelessly incompetent seaman. Nothing stays the same, alas: Jack has gained weight almost to obesity, and Stephen is desolated by the death of his dashing, beautiful wife‘but they're still the best of friends, each often knowing what the other is thinking. The prose moves between the maritime sublime and the Austenish bon mot ("a man generally disliked is hardly apt to lavish good food and wine on those who despise him, and Ward's dinners were execrable"). There are some favorite old characters, notably Aubrey's steward, Preserved Killick: "ill-faced, ill-tempered, meagre, atrabilious, shrewish" and thoroughly amusing. Chief among entertaining newcomers is Dr. Amos Jacob, a Cainite Jew ("they derive their descent from the Kenites, who themselves have Abel's brother Cain as their common ancestor"), who comes from a family of jewel merchants and has an encyclopedic grasp of Hebrew, Arabic and Turkish languages (and politics). Jacob is as expert as Stephen at spying and even more of a landlubber. O'Brian continues to unroll a splendid Turkish rug of a saga, and if it seems unlikely that the sedentary Stephen would hunt lions in the Atlas mountains (with the Dey of Algiers!), O'Brian brings off even this narrative feat with aplomb. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

For the benefit of those who are unacquainted with O'Brian, it was nearly 30 years ago that he began writing his elaborately staged historical seafaring novels about the escapades of Tory naval captain Jack Aubrey and his physician-scientist friend Stephen Maturin. Series fans know how O'Brian takes a few established facts of history and contrapuntally builds an adventure story around them in which Aubrey and Maturin play some indispensable role. On this 19th outing, the dauntless duo performs feats of derring-do to help thwart Napoleon's plans to conquer Europe. The book teems with amusing scenes, vivid dialog, glib phrase-making, and the tall-tale-spinner's gift for never taking the picaresque adventures of his characters seriously. Behind these merits, however, the plot moves with a medieval slowness. The spark of life is missing, and even the most ardent O'Brian idolaters would have to admit that he is beginning to show traces of the assembly line. Not recommended except for those libraries determined to have a complete set of O'Brian's works. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 6/15/98.]‘A.J. Anderson, GSLIS, Simmons Coll., Boston (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

The 19th volume (The Yellow Admiral, 1996, etc.) in the most successful modern series of historical fiction indicates no diminishment of power or inventiveness on the part of its author. Loyal fans of the series, which chronicles the martial adventures and complex friendship of Captain Aubrey and the physician/spy Stephen Maturin during the Napoleonic Wars, need to know only that the book is available. Others who have yet to sample the series should know that it stands out because of O'Brian's extraordinary ability to match an uncanny, utterly convincing evocation of early 19th-century Europe with subtle depictions of character, all rendered within the confines of plots featuring considerable adventures. This time out, the (realistically aging) Aubrey and Maturin are called on to help frustrate Napoleon's last, desperate bid for power. The dictator has escaped from confinement on Elba, has rallied his armies, and is marching on British forces. There's a chance that Muslim mercenaries may cast their lot with Napoleon and tip the balance of powerŽif French gold reaches them in time. First in North Africa, and then across the Atlantic, the duo pursue the gold. There are clashes on land, some brilliantly rendered action at sea, and while the two eventually triumph, their victory is not without cost. More swift, vivid, engrossing work from the dean of historical novelists.