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4.19 AVERAGE
4.19 AVERAGE
Possibly my favourite edition to the series so far, after the Lords of the North. I loved it. The ending, as always with Cornwell's books, was the most exciting part and I can't wait to read the next installment. I loved the plot development with his eldest son and his second born and how his relationship with both was explored more throughly this time. This book was thrilling.
Spoilers
I am sad to know that Ragnar has now passed, and the fact they ebecr got to reunite again. I hope to see more of King Edward in the future to see how his relationship with Uhtred differs from his with King Alfred. I love Finland and Alethflaed still and they continue to be the highlights of the series. His son Uhtred is fast becoming one of my favourite characters also!!
Spoilers
I am sad to know that Ragnar has now passed, and the fact they ebecr got to reunite again. I hope to see more of King Edward in the future to see how his relationship with Uhtred differs from his with King Alfred. I love Finland and Alethflaed still and they continue to be the highlights of the series. His son Uhtred is fast becoming one of my favourite characters also!!
So really a 4.5 rating. From the previous book, I thought some of the story arc was becoming formulaic and repetitive, so I set this one aside after I’d started it. Then after some in between reads, came back to it. And found it to be well done. I particularly like how this book ended; we’ll see where things pick up in the next book
Like all of us, Uhtred is aging. His sons are grown, and the book opens as his elder son becomes a priest. The events that subsequently unfold drive a shift in his fortunes and an attempt to capture Bebbanburg. In these unsettled times, war is never far away, and the Saxons and Danes continue to fight over the land that will someday become England.
I liked this. Lots of heart-pounding fight scenes and last minute twists that quite literally saved our hero’s ass. This is THE historical fiction series to read.
I liked this. Lots of heart-pounding fight scenes and last minute twists that quite literally saved our hero’s ass. This is THE historical fiction series to read.
Deel 7 ondertussen.
Na de laatste slag 10 jaar geleden heerst er vrede tussen de Denen en de Saksen in Wessex, Mercia en East Anglia. Maar dan worden de vrouw en de kinderen van jarl Cnut ontvoert, de machtigste Deense lord, en proberen ze de schuld op Uthred en de Saksen af te schuiven. Is er dan toch oorlog op komst? En zal Uthred nu eindelijk Bebbanburg veroveren?
Ik vond het vorige deel, death of kings, niet zo geweldig als de rest. Het was te traag en ik herinner me er eigenlijk bitter weinig van. Zeker omdat ik zo lang heb gewacht met dit vervolg te lezen. Niet handig. Want van Sigunn had ik precies nog nooit gehoord.
Maar dit deel was het weer helemaal. Het aloude recept met een zalig veel te zelfingenomen hoofdpersonage, veel intriges, knappe vrouwen en een beslissende slag.
In het boek komen best wel wat verschillende dingen aan bod. En het is duidelijk dat er nog veel zaken niet afgerond zijn. En Uthred is eindelijk naar Bebbanburg geweest zeg, na 7 boeken!
Ik vond een oudere Uthred met volwassen kinderen wel echt fijn. Het geeft een wat andere dynamiek. Het einde was ook eens een beetje anders dan de typische grote battle. Er was wel zo'n momentje waarbij ik bijna een traantje wegpinkte.
Misschien een puntje van kritiek. Ik vond het jammer dat Aethelred geen echte rol had in dit boek. In de historische noot verwijst Cornwell al naar de start van het volgende boek en dan vind ik het jammer dat Aethelred zijn verhaal is uitgespeeld, zonder echt nog eens ruzie te zoeken met Uthred.
Op naar de volgende!
Na de laatste slag 10 jaar geleden heerst er vrede tussen de Denen en de Saksen in Wessex, Mercia en East Anglia. Maar dan worden de vrouw en de kinderen van jarl Cnut ontvoert, de machtigste Deense lord, en proberen ze de schuld op Uthred en de Saksen af te schuiven. Is er dan toch oorlog op komst? En zal Uthred nu eindelijk Bebbanburg veroveren?
Ik vond het vorige deel, death of kings, niet zo geweldig als de rest. Het was te traag en ik herinner me er eigenlijk bitter weinig van. Zeker omdat ik zo lang heb gewacht met dit vervolg te lezen. Niet handig. Want van Sigunn had ik precies nog nooit gehoord.
Maar dit deel was het weer helemaal. Het aloude recept met een zalig veel te zelfingenomen hoofdpersonage, veel intriges, knappe vrouwen en een beslissende slag.
In het boek komen best wel wat verschillende dingen aan bod. En het is duidelijk dat er nog veel zaken niet afgerond zijn. En Uthred is eindelijk naar Bebbanburg geweest zeg, na 7 boeken!
Ik vond een oudere Uthred met volwassen kinderen wel echt fijn. Het geeft een wat andere dynamiek. Het einde was ook eens een beetje anders dan de typische grote battle. Er was wel zo'n momentje waarbij ik bijna een traantje wegpinkte.
Misschien een puntje van kritiek. Ik vond het jammer dat Aethelred geen echte rol had in dit boek. In de historische noot verwijst Cornwell al naar de start van het volgende boek en dan vind ik het jammer dat Aethelred zijn verhaal is uitgespeeld, zonder echt nog eens ruzie te zoeken met Uthred.
Op naar de volgende!
I thought it had a good story line and the action was set to a good pace. However the middle English was a bit tougher to read. I dont like when a book is set in a a historical setting yet the characters use foul language eveident of modern times. This throws me off and out of the story. I also found trying to remember all of the places and character names was a taxing exercise. But overall I would recommend it for any one who likes historical action fiction.
Oh, oh, oh - picked this up on Friday, finished on Monday.
I read the first six books all in one go, and have been waiting for this one. The problem with binge reading is I tend to miss the details, and don't pay much attention to the author's narrative skill. Having to wait for this one, and then spreading it out over a few days raised my faith in Bernard Cornwell. Yes, he writes battle scenes that are stellar, but he's also got a firm grip on characterization, plotting, and historicity.
Don't start with this, but if it's next in line for you, do read it. Uhtred, his progeny, lovers, comrades, enemies, and all the rest make their appearances, the intrigue is better than ever, the jokes are funny, the battles are thrilling and messy, and it's a fine continuation of the romp that is the making of England.
I read the first six books all in one go, and have been waiting for this one. The problem with binge reading is I tend to miss the details, and don't pay much attention to the author's narrative skill. Having to wait for this one, and then spreading it out over a few days raised my faith in Bernard Cornwell. Yes, he writes battle scenes that are stellar, but he's also got a firm grip on characterization, plotting, and historicity.
Don't start with this, but if it's next in line for you, do read it. Uhtred, his progeny, lovers, comrades, enemies, and all the rest make their appearances, the intrigue is better than ever, the jokes are funny, the battles are thrilling and messy, and it's a fine continuation of the romp that is the making of England.
Un cer întunecat.
Zeii fac cerul; el le reflectă starea de spirit, iar în acea zi erau posomorâţi. Era miezul verii şi o ploaie nenorocită cernea dinspre est. Era ca iarna.
Călăream pe Fulger, cel mai bun cal al meu, un armăsar negru ca noaptea, cu o fâşie de păr cenuşiu care-i cobora pe picioarele din spate. Fusese botezat după un dulău grozav pe care i-l sacrificasem cândva lui Thor. M-a durut să-l ucid, dar zeii sunt aspri cu noi: ne cer sacrificii, apoi ne ignoră. Fulger era un animal imens, puternic şi docil, un cal pentru război, iar eu, în acea zi, eram în toată splendoarea mea de războinic. Eram îmbrăcat în zale şi oţel şi piele. Răsuflarea-Şarpelui, cea mai bună spadă din lume, îmi atârna în stânga, deşi împotriva inamicului pe care-l înfruntam în acea zi nu aveam nevoie nici de spadă, nici de scut, nici de topor. Dar o purtam, fiindcă Răsuflarea-Şarpelui era tovarăşa mea. Încă o mai am. Când voi muri, adică în curând, cineva îmi va încleşta degetele în jurul împletiturii din piele a mânerului ei uzat şi ea mă va duce în Valhalla, în sala morţilor unde sunt şi zeii cei mari, şi acolo vom petrece.
Dar nu în ziua aceea.
În ziua aceea întunecată de vară stăteam în şa în mijlocul unei uliţe noroioase, cu faţa spre duşmani. Îi puteam auzi, dar nu-i puteam vedea. Ei ştiau că mă aflam acolo.
Drumul era lat doar cât să lase două căruţe să treacă una pe lângă cealaltă. Casele de pe ambele părţi erau din lut şi paie, acoperite cu stuf înnegrit de vreme pe care creştea un strat gros de muşchi. Noroiul, care depăşea copitele calului, era brăzdat de urmele roţilor şi împuţit de câinii şi porcii care umblau liberi. Vântul duşmănos vălurea bălţile din făgaşe şi şfichiuia fumul ce ieşea prin gaura dintr-un acoperiş, ducând până departe mirosul de lemn ars.
Aveam doi tovarăşi. Plecasem din Lundene cu douăzeci şi doi de oameni, dar misiunea mea în satul acesta udat de ploaie şi mirosind a dejecţii era una personală, aşa că-i lăsasem pe ceilalţi la o milă distanţă. Osbert, fiul meu cel mic, era în spatele meu, călare pe un armăsar sur. Avea nouăsprezece ani, era îmbrăcat în zale şi purta o spadă la brâu. Era bărbat în toată firea, cu toate că eu îl consideram încă un băietan. Se temea de mine, aşa cum eu mă temusem de tatăl meu.
Unele mame îi înmoaie pe băieţi, dar Osbert era orfan de mamă, şi eu îl învăţasem să fie dur, fiindcă aşa trebuie să fie un bărbat. Lumea este plină de duşmani. Creştinii ne spun să ne iubim duşmanii şi să întoarcem celălalt obraz. Creştinii sunt proşti.
Lângă Osbert era Æthelstan, bastardul şi cel mai mare fiu al regelui Edward al Wessexului. Avea doar opt ani, dar, la fel ca Osbert, purta zale. Æthelstan nu se temea de mine. Am încercat să-l sperii, dar s-a mulţumit să se uite la mine cu ochii lui reci şi albaştri şi să zâmbească. Îl iubeam pe băiatul acesta, exact aşa cum îl iubeam şi pe Osbert.
Zeii fac cerul; el le reflectă starea de spirit, iar în acea zi erau posomorâţi. Era miezul verii şi o ploaie nenorocită cernea dinspre est. Era ca iarna.
Călăream pe Fulger, cel mai bun cal al meu, un armăsar negru ca noaptea, cu o fâşie de păr cenuşiu care-i cobora pe picioarele din spate. Fusese botezat după un dulău grozav pe care i-l sacrificasem cândva lui Thor. M-a durut să-l ucid, dar zeii sunt aspri cu noi: ne cer sacrificii, apoi ne ignoră. Fulger era un animal imens, puternic şi docil, un cal pentru război, iar eu, în acea zi, eram în toată splendoarea mea de războinic. Eram îmbrăcat în zale şi oţel şi piele. Răsuflarea-Şarpelui, cea mai bună spadă din lume, îmi atârna în stânga, deşi împotriva inamicului pe care-l înfruntam în acea zi nu aveam nevoie nici de spadă, nici de scut, nici de topor. Dar o purtam, fiindcă Răsuflarea-Şarpelui era tovarăşa mea. Încă o mai am. Când voi muri, adică în curând, cineva îmi va încleşta degetele în jurul împletiturii din piele a mânerului ei uzat şi ea mă va duce în Valhalla, în sala morţilor unde sunt şi zeii cei mari, şi acolo vom petrece.
Dar nu în ziua aceea.
În ziua aceea întunecată de vară stăteam în şa în mijlocul unei uliţe noroioase, cu faţa spre duşmani. Îi puteam auzi, dar nu-i puteam vedea. Ei ştiau că mă aflam acolo.
Drumul era lat doar cât să lase două căruţe să treacă una pe lângă cealaltă. Casele de pe ambele părţi erau din lut şi paie, acoperite cu stuf înnegrit de vreme pe care creştea un strat gros de muşchi. Noroiul, care depăşea copitele calului, era brăzdat de urmele roţilor şi împuţit de câinii şi porcii care umblau liberi. Vântul duşmănos vălurea bălţile din făgaşe şi şfichiuia fumul ce ieşea prin gaura dintr-un acoperiş, ducând până departe mirosul de lemn ars.
Aveam doi tovarăşi. Plecasem din Lundene cu douăzeci şi doi de oameni, dar misiunea mea în satul acesta udat de ploaie şi mirosind a dejecţii era una personală, aşa că-i lăsasem pe ceilalţi la o milă distanţă. Osbert, fiul meu cel mic, era în spatele meu, călare pe un armăsar sur. Avea nouăsprezece ani, era îmbrăcat în zale şi purta o spadă la brâu. Era bărbat în toată firea, cu toate că eu îl consideram încă un băietan. Se temea de mine, aşa cum eu mă temusem de tatăl meu.
Unele mame îi înmoaie pe băieţi, dar Osbert era orfan de mamă, şi eu îl învăţasem să fie dur, fiindcă aşa trebuie să fie un bărbat. Lumea este plină de duşmani. Creştinii ne spun să ne iubim duşmanii şi să întoarcem celălalt obraz. Creştinii sunt proşti.
Lângă Osbert era Æthelstan, bastardul şi cel mai mare fiu al regelui Edward al Wessexului. Avea doar opt ani, dar, la fel ca Osbert, purta zale. Æthelstan nu se temea de mine. Am încercat să-l sperii, dar s-a mulţumit să se uite la mine cu ochii lui reci şi albaştri şi să zâmbească. Îl iubeam pe băiatul acesta, exact aşa cum îl iubeam şi pe Osbert.
In this book in the series, Uhtred is now middle-aged. Which means, by the standards of the time, that he is becoming an old man. However, he is still a very smart warrior, with an uncanny instinct for the motives and intentions of others. Two aspects of this series continue to engage me. First, in each book, Uhtred devises some neat tricks to out-smart his enemies. Second, it is amazing how superstitious people are, and in many ways, naive. During the Middle Ages, there is no such thing as "science", and people are all too willing to believe in just about any supernatural phenomenon.
The previous book in this series, [b:Death of Kings|11734251|Death of Kings (The Saxon Stories, #6)|Bernard Cornwell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1327963375s/11734251.jpg|16683183] seemed to lag behind the others in the level of plot and excitement. It was just a bit too slow. However, This seventh book in the series stepped up the pace somewhat, and I can heartily recommend it.
I listened to this book as an audiobook, narrated by Matt Bates. He does an excellent job, and I was rarely if ever confused by the dialogs. The reason is that Matt Bates is able to differentiate the different characters with different voices and accents. As a result, listening to the book is very enjoyable.
The previous book in this series, [b:Death of Kings|11734251|Death of Kings (The Saxon Stories, #6)|Bernard Cornwell|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1327963375s/11734251.jpg|16683183] seemed to lag behind the others in the level of plot and excitement. It was just a bit too slow. However, This seventh book in the series stepped up the pace somewhat, and I can heartily recommend it.
I listened to this book as an audiobook, narrated by Matt Bates. He does an excellent job, and I was rarely if ever confused by the dialogs. The reason is that Matt Bates is able to differentiate the different characters with different voices and accents. As a result, listening to the book is very enjoyable.
When Bernard Cornwell is on form, he can be at least as good, if not a whole lot better, than most everyone else. When he's ticking over, he's also a whole lot better than a whole lot of other writers in the Historical Fiction field. And while there's no doubt I enjoyed 'The Pagan Lord' and thought it was very good, it does have the sound of Bernard Cornwell ticking over. I thought 'Death of Kings' was an excellent book, but it doesn’t seem that Cornwell has used that as a transitional book to take Uhtred to better places, character-wise, or style-wise. I enjoyed this, don’t get me wrong. But I think Bernard Cornwell is a little on autopilot at the moment. In many ways, Cornwell is rather like the mood that radiates off Uhtred in ’The Pagan Lord' - smart, cunning, savvy, clever. He's been there, done that. Many times. But he’s also irritating. Why? Later.
It goes wrong for Uhtred, the 'Pagan Lord' of the title, from the beginning (actually, I’d like BC to give us an idea of how we’re supposed to pronounce ‘Uhtred’ in our heads while we’re reading this. Idea?) Uhtred goes to try to capture his son, to stop him from shaming the family name and becoming a priest. Of Christ, not Uhtred’s Odin. Uhtred is, understandably for an old-fashioned, died in the wool Viking, somewhat less than chuffed at this development. He tries to reason with his son, threatening to cut him off, as it were, but he instead almost accidentally manages to kill another priest. As you do. Uhtred most likely normally wouldn't lose much, if any, any sleep over this sort of thing. But it isn’t the sort of thing that is going to endear him to his Christian neighbours. To make matters worse, he then returns home to find his hall has been attacked and burnt to the ground by Cnut Longsword, while he was away. He decides to meet with Cnut, only to find that Cnut thinks Uhtred has taken his (Cnut’s) wife and son. Which he hasn’t. And he suspects a double-cross. He returns home to find his peace-loving Christians neighbours have burnt down what remained un-burnt from the last burning. As you do in 10th Century pre-England. So, as he can’t convince anyone to trust him when he says there is treachery afoot, Uhtred’s not in the best of moods at the start of 'The Pagan Lord'. Dark days for Uhtred and it doesn’t get much better.
Dark days indeed. And whaddaya know? There’s bad weather. Nearly all the time. Cornwell clearly wants us to get the message that the weather matches Uhtred’s mood. But that really is a bit too obvious for a writer of his calibre, isn’t it? And it’s all the bloomin' time. I could be wrong on this but, I can’t actually remember there being good, or even fine, weather in any of Bernard Cornwell 'Warrior Chronicles' books. And there isn’t here. For instance, when he’s sailing off in his ship, 'Middleniht’, there's 'grey sea, grey sky and a grey mist, and the 'Middelniht' slid through that greyness like a sleek and dangerous beast.' I'm all for the weather as a way of mirroring a mood, but when it's all the time, the time comes when you have to say 'enough already with the dreadful weather!' Obviously it’s England we’re talking about here, so it is going to rain more than most places in the 10th Century, but they had sunshine back then as well! Even in the North Sea. It was on occasion dry and mild in the 10th Century, the sleet in the middle of summer didn't always come at you horizontally. But when the book opens with 'A dark sky. The gods make the sky; it reflects their moods and they were dark that day. It was high summer and a bitter rain was spitting from the east. It felt like winter’, you just think ‘oh, here we go again’. Actually, the only time I can think of in 'The Pagan Lord’ when he gets good weather, is when he actually wants bad weather! Obviously as cover for a dastardly deed.
Having said all that, the weariness, as befits an old man - old for the Viking age anyway - the ’not again, I'm too old for this shit’ of Uhtred, is outstanding. Understandable, given his luck with Christian sons - Christians on general - and inflammable barns and houses, really. He’s a believable and sympathetic character and one Cornwell obviously loves. That comes over loud and clear. Uhtred is, if I’ve read rightly and with only a couple of historical ‘adjustments’ along the way, an ancestor of Cornwell's. Would explain why.
So, my really big problem with this one?
And.
And. And, and, and. And. Ands, every-bloody-where. In sentences, starting sentences, linking sentences. Ands after commas. Ands starting paragraphs, for goodness' sake.
And way too many of them.
Cornwell achieves the matter of fact, authoritative style of Uhtred’s narrative, through using 'and' as a link in sentences. Like this:
"He (Æthelred) wanted the poets to sing of his triumphs, he wanted the chronicles to write his name in history, and so he would start a war, and that war would be Christian Mercia against Christian East Anglia, and it would draw in the rest of Britain and there would be shield walls again.”
Makes events that follow an and appear inevitable, no other outcome could possibly have happened. Makes it seem like the character of Uhtred is very decisive, knowledgeable and authoritative. Fine a few times. However, the constant, almost metronomic use of ‘and’ like that and too much, becomes irritating. And, time and time again - like the bad weather - enough! Try another approach once in a while. It really became a problem for me reading the book. Like it was standing in the way of my enjoying the book to the full. Like I would have done, if there were less ands. In the end, I was looking out for them and becoming more and more irritated. Starting sentences with an and is wrong, grammatically. You know it. Starting a paragraph with one is a real no-no.
"And I was a warrior, and in a world at war the warrior must be cruel.”
Like that. Still on the statute books as being punishable by a blood-eagle, if I’m not much mistaken. Unless you’re writing advertising copy. Then it’s ok. But this is a book, a decent one, this is Bernard Cornwell and he should know that it’s not ok.
And because he used it as a device so frequently, without seeming to even try to consider the maybes of any other kind of approach, is why I felt he was on autopilot, not really worried or thinking about it. Maybe he was thinking of the next Sharpe? I think if you only read Cornwell, you’d imagine that this is both how Historical Fiction is done and as good as it gets. Anyone who has read a few of the (now) many (many) other excellent writers on Cornwell’s block, like me, know different. Like I said, this is good, but while there is much to admire and recommend, I still came away from it feeling it could have been better. I’m no writer (that’s not news to you?), so I couldn’t for the life of me tell you how he should improve, but I just put it down at the end - even with the bombshell - and thought ‘ho-hum, autopilot’.
It goes wrong for Uhtred, the 'Pagan Lord' of the title, from the beginning (actually, I’d like BC to give us an idea of how we’re supposed to pronounce ‘Uhtred’ in our heads while we’re reading this. Idea?) Uhtred goes to try to capture his son, to stop him from shaming the family name and becoming a priest. Of Christ, not Uhtred’s Odin. Uhtred is, understandably for an old-fashioned, died in the wool Viking, somewhat less than chuffed at this development. He tries to reason with his son, threatening to cut him off, as it were, but he instead almost accidentally manages to kill another priest. As you do. Uhtred most likely normally wouldn't lose much, if any, any sleep over this sort of thing. But it isn’t the sort of thing that is going to endear him to his Christian neighbours. To make matters worse, he then returns home to find his hall has been attacked and burnt to the ground by Cnut Longsword, while he was away. He decides to meet with Cnut, only to find that Cnut thinks Uhtred has taken his (Cnut’s) wife and son. Which he hasn’t. And he suspects a double-cross. He returns home to find his peace-loving Christians neighbours have burnt down what remained un-burnt from the last burning. As you do in 10th Century pre-England. So, as he can’t convince anyone to trust him when he says there is treachery afoot, Uhtred’s not in the best of moods at the start of 'The Pagan Lord'. Dark days for Uhtred and it doesn’t get much better.
Dark days indeed. And whaddaya know? There’s bad weather. Nearly all the time. Cornwell clearly wants us to get the message that the weather matches Uhtred’s mood. But that really is a bit too obvious for a writer of his calibre, isn’t it? And it’s all the bloomin' time. I could be wrong on this but, I can’t actually remember there being good, or even fine, weather in any of Bernard Cornwell 'Warrior Chronicles' books. And there isn’t here. For instance, when he’s sailing off in his ship, 'Middleniht’, there's 'grey sea, grey sky and a grey mist, and the 'Middelniht' slid through that greyness like a sleek and dangerous beast.' I'm all for the weather as a way of mirroring a mood, but when it's all the time, the time comes when you have to say 'enough already with the dreadful weather!' Obviously it’s England we’re talking about here, so it is going to rain more than most places in the 10th Century, but they had sunshine back then as well! Even in the North Sea. It was on occasion dry and mild in the 10th Century, the sleet in the middle of summer didn't always come at you horizontally. But when the book opens with 'A dark sky. The gods make the sky; it reflects their moods and they were dark that day. It was high summer and a bitter rain was spitting from the east. It felt like winter’, you just think ‘oh, here we go again’. Actually, the only time I can think of in 'The Pagan Lord’ when he gets good weather, is when he actually wants bad weather! Obviously as cover for a dastardly deed.
Having said all that, the weariness, as befits an old man - old for the Viking age anyway - the ’not again, I'm too old for this shit’ of Uhtred, is outstanding. Understandable, given his luck with Christian sons - Christians on general - and inflammable barns and houses, really. He’s a believable and sympathetic character and one Cornwell obviously loves. That comes over loud and clear. Uhtred is, if I’ve read rightly and with only a couple of historical ‘adjustments’ along the way, an ancestor of Cornwell's. Would explain why.
So, my really big problem with this one?
And.
And. And, and, and. And. Ands, every-bloody-where. In sentences, starting sentences, linking sentences. Ands after commas. Ands starting paragraphs, for goodness' sake.
And way too many of them.
Cornwell achieves the matter of fact, authoritative style of Uhtred’s narrative, through using 'and' as a link in sentences. Like this:
"He (Æthelred) wanted the poets to sing of his triumphs, he wanted the chronicles to write his name in history, and so he would start a war, and that war would be Christian Mercia against Christian East Anglia, and it would draw in the rest of Britain and there would be shield walls again.”
Makes events that follow an and appear inevitable, no other outcome could possibly have happened. Makes it seem like the character of Uhtred is very decisive, knowledgeable and authoritative. Fine a few times. However, the constant, almost metronomic use of ‘and’ like that and too much, becomes irritating. And, time and time again - like the bad weather - enough! Try another approach once in a while. It really became a problem for me reading the book. Like it was standing in the way of my enjoying the book to the full. Like I would have done, if there were less ands. In the end, I was looking out for them and becoming more and more irritated. Starting sentences with an and is wrong, grammatically. You know it. Starting a paragraph with one is a real no-no.
"And I was a warrior, and in a world at war the warrior must be cruel.”
Like that. Still on the statute books as being punishable by a blood-eagle, if I’m not much mistaken. Unless you’re writing advertising copy. Then it’s ok. But this is a book, a decent one, this is Bernard Cornwell and he should know that it’s not ok.
And because he used it as a device so frequently, without seeming to even try to consider the maybes of any other kind of approach, is why I felt he was on autopilot, not really worried or thinking about it. Maybe he was thinking of the next Sharpe? I think if you only read Cornwell, you’d imagine that this is both how Historical Fiction is done and as good as it gets. Anyone who has read a few of the (now) many (many) other excellent writers on Cornwell’s block, like me, know different. Like I said, this is good, but while there is much to admire and recommend, I still came away from it feeling it could have been better. I’m no writer (that’s not news to you?), so I couldn’t for the life of me tell you how he should improve, but I just put it down at the end - even with the bombshell - and thought ‘ho-hum, autopilot’.