It turns out they are both musicians – Jack with his violin and Stephen with his cello – and, moreover, that they can help one another out. He has finally been granted the command he longs for, in the form of the brig Sophie, and his goodwill expands to include the entire world, even the reserved, wary Stephen Maturin who for his part is so startled by Jack’s bonhomie that, to their mutual surprise, they become friends. But by the time the two men cross paths again the following day, Jack’s entire world has changed. When Jack Aubrey is reprimanded at a concert in Minorca for drumming his fingers in time to the music, he conceives an immediate dislike for the pedantic, skinny, scruffy little civilian sitting next to him. It was time to see what all the fuss was about and I’m very glad I did. I’ve no good reason to explain why I haven’t read them before: it’s true that Napoleonic Europe isn’t my first port of call for a historical novel, but I grew up watching Hornblower, I’ve recently enjoyed the Temeraire novels (which are naval in spirit if not in detail), and the film of Master & Commander has been one of my favourites for over a decade (I still can’t imagine Stephen as anyone but Paul Bettany). This encounter with Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin was long overdue: people have been recommending O’Brian’s books to me for years and he clearly inspires the same kind of fervent affection in his readers as Dorothy Dunnett does in hers.
0 kommentar(er)
