A couple of non-fiction books
Occupational Hazards, My Time Governing in Iraq, Rory Stewart
142 Strand: A Radical Address in Victorian London Rosemary Ashton
After the fall of Saddam, Rory Stewart was appointed governor of a large province in Iraq. In theory, he was temporary ruler of millions of people and had millions of pounds to spend on rebuilding the infrastructure. In practice, he was coping with ancient tribal feuds, murder, torture, corruption, religious fundamentalism and general unrest. No matter how well intentioned the allies were, they would always be seen as infidel occupiers. Pylons were knocked down by tractors and the copper wire stripped and sold in Iran. Contractors supposed to build new schools and clinics were corrupt and theft rife. The Iraqis couldn’t agree with each other and Stewart had trouble getting them to elect the Council he wanted, to allow them to a certain extent to govern themselves.
In one particularly hair-raising incident, they got hold of a mortar and began firing into the allied compound, Stewart’s HQ. Italian troops stationed nearby promised help but did nothing because Berlusconi didn’t want bad news at home about dead Italian soldiers. Eventually, a single plane put the mortar out of action, which probably stopped the whole compound being destroyed and everyone in it killed. Blimey, it was like Gordon at Khartoum! Stewart was much praised for his leadership during this crisis. One admires his idealism, courage, organisational skills and can-do attitude but the odds were against him and always, in the background, was the malign influence of Iran. What were we thinking? I can never forgive Tony Blair for this.
Oh dear, another abandoned book and I thought it would be just the sort I would like.
142 Strand was for a while the publishing premises of John Chapman, the very same John Chapman I complained about when reviewing Trailblazer, about Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon. It was an impressive building and Chapman and his (older) wife took lodgers to help make ends meet. As his wife was jealous of every woman who came into the house, this caused some problems. Chapman seemed always on the verge of going broke and those who knew him were too canny to lend him money. He was rather a rogue, although obviously a charming one. For instance, in his youth he travelled in Europe and studied medicine without gaining any qualification, yet in later life he styled himself ‘Dr.’.
So, why does he matter? He was prepared to publish radical books and pamphlets which other publishers wouldn’t touch. After buying the Westminster Review he employed George Eliot, still known as Mary Ann Evans, as editor, which was very useful experience for her. At his soirées you might meet Thackeray, Carlyle, Dickens and other literary luminaries. My problem with the book is that instead of sticking to the subject, the author devotes far too much space to issues of the day, which may be interesting but are not directly related to Chapman. It’s hard for us today to understand what a burning subject religion was at this date and the agonies suffered over it by earnest young men. When John Henry Newman (later Cardinal Newman) ‘went over’ to Rome, he left his young acolytes in a tizz. What to do? Just as in Trollope’s novels, Oxford had a great influence on the church. Others were questioning their faith as scientific thought moved towards evolution and German writers subjected the Bible to detailed analysis. The most famous of these works was Strauss’s The Life of Jesus, which argued that Christ’s life had been written so as to fulfil the mythology of the Old Testament. The book was translated by George Eliot, at first anonymously, then under her real name. What a brain that woman had!
Ashton devotes a great deal of space to the troubles of J A Froude, younger brother of the scholar R H Froude, whom he hated. Anthony Froude wrote what was considered a scandalous book, Nemesis of Faith, which was published by Chapman. The Sub-Rector of Exeter College burnt the book publicly. Froude eventually left Oxford but later recanted. Arthur Clough had similar issues. Now, if I’d wanted to read a book on the subject, I’m sure I could have found one but it wasn’t what I expected from this book. Perhaps I gave up too easily but my boredom threshold is low.
142 Strand: A Radical Address in Victorian London Rosemary Ashton
After the fall of Saddam, Rory Stewart was appointed governor of a large province in Iraq. In theory, he was temporary ruler of millions of people and had millions of pounds to spend on rebuilding the infrastructure. In practice, he was coping with ancient tribal feuds, murder, torture, corruption, religious fundamentalism and general unrest. No matter how well intentioned the allies were, they would always be seen as infidel occupiers. Pylons were knocked down by tractors and the copper wire stripped and sold in Iran. Contractors supposed to build new schools and clinics were corrupt and theft rife. The Iraqis couldn’t agree with each other and Stewart had trouble getting them to elect the Council he wanted, to allow them to a certain extent to govern themselves.
In one particularly hair-raising incident, they got hold of a mortar and began firing into the allied compound, Stewart’s HQ. Italian troops stationed nearby promised help but did nothing because Berlusconi didn’t want bad news at home about dead Italian soldiers. Eventually, a single plane put the mortar out of action, which probably stopped the whole compound being destroyed and everyone in it killed. Blimey, it was like Gordon at Khartoum! Stewart was much praised for his leadership during this crisis. One admires his idealism, courage, organisational skills and can-do attitude but the odds were against him and always, in the background, was the malign influence of Iran. What were we thinking? I can never forgive Tony Blair for this.
Oh dear, another abandoned book and I thought it would be just the sort I would like.
142 Strand was for a while the publishing premises of John Chapman, the very same John Chapman I complained about when reviewing Trailblazer, about Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon. It was an impressive building and Chapman and his (older) wife took lodgers to help make ends meet. As his wife was jealous of every woman who came into the house, this caused some problems. Chapman seemed always on the verge of going broke and those who knew him were too canny to lend him money. He was rather a rogue, although obviously a charming one. For instance, in his youth he travelled in Europe and studied medicine without gaining any qualification, yet in later life he styled himself ‘Dr.’.
So, why does he matter? He was prepared to publish radical books and pamphlets which other publishers wouldn’t touch. After buying the Westminster Review he employed George Eliot, still known as Mary Ann Evans, as editor, which was very useful experience for her. At his soirées you might meet Thackeray, Carlyle, Dickens and other literary luminaries. My problem with the book is that instead of sticking to the subject, the author devotes far too much space to issues of the day, which may be interesting but are not directly related to Chapman. It’s hard for us today to understand what a burning subject religion was at this date and the agonies suffered over it by earnest young men. When John Henry Newman (later Cardinal Newman) ‘went over’ to Rome, he left his young acolytes in a tizz. What to do? Just as in Trollope’s novels, Oxford had a great influence on the church. Others were questioning their faith as scientific thought moved towards evolution and German writers subjected the Bible to detailed analysis. The most famous of these works was Strauss’s The Life of Jesus, which argued that Christ’s life had been written so as to fulfil the mythology of the Old Testament. The book was translated by George Eliot, at first anonymously, then under her real name. What a brain that woman had!
Ashton devotes a great deal of space to the troubles of J A Froude, younger brother of the scholar R H Froude, whom he hated. Anthony Froude wrote what was considered a scandalous book, Nemesis of Faith, which was published by Chapman. The Sub-Rector of Exeter College burnt the book publicly. Froude eventually left Oxford but later recanted. Arthur Clough had similar issues. Now, if I’d wanted to read a book on the subject, I’m sure I could have found one but it wasn’t what I expected from this book. Perhaps I gave up too easily but my boredom threshold is low.