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3.34 AVERAGE
3.34 AVERAGE
A slow-burn opening in 19th c. style opens up to a wonderful coastal cruising novel and then a full-blown espionage thriller. This book largely invented the genre, yet remains thoroughly recognizable and exciting to the modern reader.
Britannia rules the waves?
Our narrator, Carruthers, finds himself having to stay on at his job in the Foreign Office while all his fashionable friends depart for country house parties, apparently managing to cope with his absence with less difficulty than he’d have liked. Released at last for his annual holiday, he finds himself with nowhere in particular to go, so when an old friend writes inviting him to spend some time on his yacht duck-shooting in the Baltic, he decides to take him up on the offer. He’s expecting a well-appointed leisure yacht complete with crew, so is taken aback to discover that the Dulcibella is tiny, strictly functional and manned only by his friend, Davies. Throwing off his initial grumpiness, Carruthers settles in to learn the art of sailing under Davies’ expert tutelage. But he soon discovers that Davies has an ulterior motive for wanting him there – Davies suspects that there’s some kind of German plot being developed along the Baltic coastline, and wants Carruthers to help him investigate...
The beginning of the book is a lot of fun, filled with self-deprecating humour as Carruthers first realises that his fashionable world can survive quite happily without him and then discovers that, rather than swanning about on a nice, clean deck in his natty sailing outfit, he’s expected to share a tiny cabin with Davies, eat off a paraffin stove, and work for his passage. He’s very likeable – the archetypal patriotic gentlemanly hero beloved of English fiction of that era. (And still beloved by this Scot today, I freely admit.) Davies is a little rougher around the edges, but is also entirely decent and honourable.
When they start to sail, the book doesn’t stint on nautical facts and terminology. My Oxford World’s Classics edition contains a glossary of terms as well as the usual informative introduction and notes, which tell a bit about Childers’ life – an intriguing story on its own account – and the literary and historical background to the book. There are also charts! Sea charts! And charts of the various coastlines. I know some people will find it a little odd, but I can’t resist a chart, map or plan in a book, so to have an abundance of them added immensely to the fun.
The story gradually takes on a more serious tone, though, once Davies reveals his suspicions. The book was first published in 1903, and I thought it casts a fascinating light on the attitudes of the British ruling classes to their counterparts in Germany at that point in time. Were we more European then than now? Perhaps. Our public service was populated with the younger sons of the lower aristocracy, all public school educated and many of them well-travelled in Europe and passably fluent in more than one language. Our Royals across Europe were all related to each other, and I imagine the same was probably true of a lot of the aristocracy. Today Germany is our friend; in my childhood, it was still perceived as our enemy; back at the time of this book, there’s a perception of it as being a kind of family member, a cousin perhaps. Not altogether surprising, given that our Royal Family is German, as was Queen Victoria’s beloved Albert (and hence all their thousands of offspring).
But Germany was growing and becoming more powerful at this time, and while Carruthers and Davies feel goodwill towards it and admire all the Kaiser is doing to advance his country, they also see it as a potential opponent in the future. There’s an odd sporting edge to this – they rather look forward to meeting Germany in war one day, as if it were some form of jousting contest fought for honour and glory. (One can’t help but hope neither of them were in Passchendaele or the Somme twelve or thirteen years later.)
The emphasis of the book is on the growth of Germany as a naval power, and it becomes ever clearer that Childers’ real purpose in writing it was to send a warning to the powers-that-be in Britain that we shouldn’t take our naval supremacy for granted, especially in the North Sea. Unfortunately, as the rather polemical message grows stronger, the entertainment side of it gets somewhat sidelined, and I didn’t enjoy the second half quite as much as the first. Childers goes into far more detail on the potential naval threat and how Germany might use this bit of coastline to launch a future attack on Britain than makes for a good adventure story – at points it feels more like a report to the Foreign Office. And, since his purpose was to warn of a growing threat, it couldn’t have the kind of enemies-destroyed-rip-roaring-success-hurrah-for-good-old-England ending that this type of novel normally goes for.
However, there is plenty of adventure along the way, danger and derring-do, and a rather understated (and unnecessary) romance element, which the introduction informs me was more or less forced on Childers by his publishers. All-in-all, I thoroughly enjoyed watching Carruthers’ development from fashionable young man-about-town to patriotic amateur spy, and the intriguing look at the British-German relationship of the time more than made up for the shortcomings of the adventure story in the second half. This one undoubtedly deserves it status as a classic of espionage fiction. 4½ stars for me, so rounded up.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Oxford World’s Classics.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
Our narrator, Carruthers, finds himself having to stay on at his job in the Foreign Office while all his fashionable friends depart for country house parties, apparently managing to cope with his absence with less difficulty than he’d have liked. Released at last for his annual holiday, he finds himself with nowhere in particular to go, so when an old friend writes inviting him to spend some time on his yacht duck-shooting in the Baltic, he decides to take him up on the offer. He’s expecting a well-appointed leisure yacht complete with crew, so is taken aback to discover that the Dulcibella is tiny, strictly functional and manned only by his friend, Davies. Throwing off his initial grumpiness, Carruthers settles in to learn the art of sailing under Davies’ expert tutelage. But he soon discovers that Davies has an ulterior motive for wanting him there – Davies suspects that there’s some kind of German plot being developed along the Baltic coastline, and wants Carruthers to help him investigate...
The beginning of the book is a lot of fun, filled with self-deprecating humour as Carruthers first realises that his fashionable world can survive quite happily without him and then discovers that, rather than swanning about on a nice, clean deck in his natty sailing outfit, he’s expected to share a tiny cabin with Davies, eat off a paraffin stove, and work for his passage. He’s very likeable – the archetypal patriotic gentlemanly hero beloved of English fiction of that era. (And still beloved by this Scot today, I freely admit.) Davies is a little rougher around the edges, but is also entirely decent and honourable.
When they start to sail, the book doesn’t stint on nautical facts and terminology. My Oxford World’s Classics edition contains a glossary of terms as well as the usual informative introduction and notes, which tell a bit about Childers’ life – an intriguing story on its own account – and the literary and historical background to the book. There are also charts! Sea charts! And charts of the various coastlines. I know some people will find it a little odd, but I can’t resist a chart, map or plan in a book, so to have an abundance of them added immensely to the fun.
The story gradually takes on a more serious tone, though, once Davies reveals his suspicions. The book was first published in 1903, and I thought it casts a fascinating light on the attitudes of the British ruling classes to their counterparts in Germany at that point in time. Were we more European then than now? Perhaps. Our public service was populated with the younger sons of the lower aristocracy, all public school educated and many of them well-travelled in Europe and passably fluent in more than one language. Our Royals across Europe were all related to each other, and I imagine the same was probably true of a lot of the aristocracy. Today Germany is our friend; in my childhood, it was still perceived as our enemy; back at the time of this book, there’s a perception of it as being a kind of family member, a cousin perhaps. Not altogether surprising, given that our Royal Family is German, as was Queen Victoria’s beloved Albert (and hence all their thousands of offspring).
But Germany was growing and becoming more powerful at this time, and while Carruthers and Davies feel goodwill towards it and admire all the Kaiser is doing to advance his country, they also see it as a potential opponent in the future. There’s an odd sporting edge to this – they rather look forward to meeting Germany in war one day, as if it were some form of jousting contest fought for honour and glory. (One can’t help but hope neither of them were in Passchendaele or the Somme twelve or thirteen years later.)
The emphasis of the book is on the growth of Germany as a naval power, and it becomes ever clearer that Childers’ real purpose in writing it was to send a warning to the powers-that-be in Britain that we shouldn’t take our naval supremacy for granted, especially in the North Sea. Unfortunately, as the rather polemical message grows stronger, the entertainment side of it gets somewhat sidelined, and I didn’t enjoy the second half quite as much as the first. Childers goes into far more detail on the potential naval threat and how Germany might use this bit of coastline to launch a future attack on Britain than makes for a good adventure story – at points it feels more like a report to the Foreign Office. And, since his purpose was to warn of a growing threat, it couldn’t have the kind of enemies-destroyed-rip-roaring-success-hurrah-for-good-old-England ending that this type of novel normally goes for.
However, there is plenty of adventure along the way, danger and derring-do, and a rather understated (and unnecessary) romance element, which the introduction informs me was more or less forced on Childers by his publishers. All-in-all, I thoroughly enjoyed watching Carruthers’ development from fashionable young man-about-town to patriotic amateur spy, and the intriguing look at the British-German relationship of the time more than made up for the shortcomings of the adventure story in the second half. This one undoubtedly deserves it status as a classic of espionage fiction. 4½ stars for me, so rounded up.
NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Oxford World’s Classics.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
it feels just about as dated as you would expect, a proto espionage novel about bad germans and stiff-upper-lip brits doing sneaky stuff in the wadden see but the riddle of the sands is an enjoyable read at times, especially if you're into sailing.
Albeit a little dated in its structure and dialogue, this novel was a smash hit in its day (1903), and one can see its influence on a myriad of books since. I found it a decent read, which is amazing really, given the extent to which it dwells so much on the minutiae of sailing, navigation and the perils of sand bars!
I know of Erskine Childers primarily as a British gentleman turned Irish patriot and executed as a traitor during the heat of the Civil War, so I was somewhat surprised to read him so strongly paint a portrait of the struggle for' king and country'. Worth tracking down.
I know of Erskine Childers primarily as a British gentleman turned Irish patriot and executed as a traitor during the heat of the Civil War, so I was somewhat surprised to read him so strongly paint a portrait of the struggle for' king and country'. Worth tracking down.
This should have been an exciting read but I found the writing pretty tedious
challenging
informative
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
A fascinating historical document that would have be a lot more enjoyable if I knew anything about boats.
Content Warnings
Minor: Murder, War
The parts that were interesting were very interesting but the parts that were boring were very, very, very boring. Interesting read as a time capsule and a view into the history of spy craft novels, but ultimately it’s much too dry for modern readers. It’s cool for awhile to read how incredibly accurate every detail is, and follow along with the included maps and charts, but by the end I felt very impatient for it to end. Too many long, wordy passages about inconsequential details. I’ve learned more about sailing through shallows and sand bars than I’d ever hoped to. Not gonna be a fun read for like 99% of people. 2.5 rounded up.
adventurous
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
slow-paced
MAY HAVE SPOILERS
This is an entertaining sailing and spy novel. If you like boats, you'll like this novel. If you like spy novels, you'll like this novel. It might be the first spy novel ever written, although I'd probably give the nod to Rudyard Kipling's 'Kim'. However, I'm going to make a probably easily disproved argument that 'The Riddle of the Sands' was more influential. From this book you can draw a line I think through Buchan, the Bulldog Drummond books of 'Sapper' onwards to Frederick Forsyth et al.
Whilst it seems to have been influenced by the real-life Anglo-German rivalry and the 'invasion literature' of the late-19th century beginning with George Chesney's 'The Battle of Dorking'.
The book has at its centre the amateur gentlemen, Carruthers and Davies, who get to solving a mystery that they feel might threaten their country. Perhaps there's the seed even of James Bond in this book.
There's a lot of sailing talk too. At some points in their quest, it almost feels like a Home Counties Moby Dick. If that makes any sense, which it probably doesn't. The sailing ties in with another of the book's strengths, which is the writing about place. There's a real sense of being at sea and how the sea behaves.
A fun read. There's a couple of awkward 'of their time' linguistic moments but none of Buchan's overt antisemitism.
This is an entertaining sailing and spy novel. If you like boats, you'll like this novel. If you like spy novels, you'll like this novel. It might be the first spy novel ever written, although I'd probably give the nod to Rudyard Kipling's 'Kim'. However, I'm going to make a probably easily disproved argument that 'The Riddle of the Sands' was more influential. From this book you can draw a line I think through Buchan, the Bulldog Drummond books of 'Sapper' onwards to Frederick Forsyth et al.
Whilst it seems to have been influenced by the real-life Anglo-German rivalry and the 'invasion literature' of the late-19th century beginning with George Chesney's 'The Battle of Dorking'.
The book has at its centre the amateur gentlemen, Carruthers and Davies, who get to solving a mystery that they feel might threaten their country. Perhaps there's the seed even of James Bond in this book.
There's a lot of sailing talk too. At some points in their quest, it almost feels like a Home Counties Moby Dick. If that makes any sense, which it probably doesn't. The sailing ties in with another of the book's strengths, which is the writing about place. There's a real sense of being at sea and how the sea behaves.
A fun read. There's a couple of awkward 'of their time' linguistic moments but none of Buchan's overt antisemitism.