Avast!
Avast! While packing my books for the move I came across my cache of unread Horatio Hornblower books, and this is a Big Problem, because of course I had to take a look to see if they were candidates for discarding. And now my packing schedule is being seriously disrupted by the Awesomeness that is Hornblower. Question:
WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME THEY WERE SO GOOD???
*Looks at flist* Seriously, you have been remiss, keeping the Hornblower books such a deep dark secret. Or maybe something else is the problem:
Poll Avast! Sea stories death match poll.
For me there have been two big surprises in the Hornblower books. First, I just find it easier to follow all the nautical terminology than in O'Brian. I'm not sure why that is -- it somehow feels as if C.S. Forester is better at explaining unfamiliar things in context *hides from O'Brian fans*. Second, I've been surprised at how much I like the main character: he's such an interesting combination of genuine action hero and neurotic worry-wart.
Beyond that, the WRITING is just fabulous, IMO. There are moments when I find myself staring at the books and saying, My GOD, this is HOW IT SHOULD BE DONE!
Take the following passage of action writing at its finest. It works because of the tightly observed POV. Hornblower is leading a sneak attack in the dark: the goal is to ram, board, and disarm a French guardboat. The attack feels totally real because we're inside Hornblower's head: the emphasis is not on the gore, but on a bewildering kaleidescope of raw physical impressions when events are moving too quickly for Hornblower to analyze rationally:
Hornblower's sword was out, and at the instant of contact he leaped madly from the barge to the guard boat, choking with excitement and nervousness as he did so. He landed with both feet on someone in the stern, trod him down, and miraculously kept his own footing. There was a white face visible down by his knee, and he kicked at it, wildly, felt a jar up his leg as the kick went home, and at the same moment he cut with all his strength at another head before him. He felt the sword bite into bone; the boat rolled frightfully under him as more of the barge's crew came tumbling into the guard boat. Someone was heaving himself upright before him -- someone with a black gash of a moustache across his face in the starlight, and therefore no Englishman. Hornblower lunged fiercely as a he reeled in the rocking boat, and he and his opponent came down together upon the men under their feet. When he scrambled up the struggle was over, without a shot being fired. The guard boat's crew was dead, or overboard, or knocked unconscious. Hornblower felt his neck and his wrist wet and sticky -- with blood, presumably, but he did not have time to think about that.
"Into the barge, men," he said. "Give way."
Awesome! You can FEEL it happening. And C.S. Forester can do description, too, like this achingly lyrical evocation of a ship at sea:
They left the lamp-lit brilliance of the cabin for the darkness of the deck. The stars were glowing in the dark sky, and the Sutherland was stealing ghostlike over the sea which reflected them; her pyramids of canvas soared up to invisibility, and the only sounds to be heard were the rattle of the rigging and the periodic music of the water under her forefoot as she rode over the tiny invisible waves.
Yum. So beautiful, just at the level of sound, and the description is, again, grounded in the POV of someone who's very firmly located in a particular place.
Oh, and there's plenty of romance too, and the books are just as awash in slash potential as you might expect from stories about men in close quarters, with flogging. But mostly, and I am not just saying this to justify the fact that I'm procrastinating about packing, they're just beautifully written, crackling adventure stories. Who woulda thunk?
WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME THEY WERE SO GOOD???
*Looks at flist* Seriously, you have been remiss, keeping the Hornblower books such a deep dark secret. Or maybe something else is the problem:
Poll Avast! Sea stories death match poll.
For me there have been two big surprises in the Hornblower books. First, I just find it easier to follow all the nautical terminology than in O'Brian. I'm not sure why that is -- it somehow feels as if C.S. Forester is better at explaining unfamiliar things in context *hides from O'Brian fans*. Second, I've been surprised at how much I like the main character: he's such an interesting combination of genuine action hero and neurotic worry-wart.
Beyond that, the WRITING is just fabulous, IMO. There are moments when I find myself staring at the books and saying, My GOD, this is HOW IT SHOULD BE DONE!
Take the following passage of action writing at its finest. It works because of the tightly observed POV. Hornblower is leading a sneak attack in the dark: the goal is to ram, board, and disarm a French guardboat. The attack feels totally real because we're inside Hornblower's head: the emphasis is not on the gore, but on a bewildering kaleidescope of raw physical impressions when events are moving too quickly for Hornblower to analyze rationally:
Hornblower's sword was out, and at the instant of contact he leaped madly from the barge to the guard boat, choking with excitement and nervousness as he did so. He landed with both feet on someone in the stern, trod him down, and miraculously kept his own footing. There was a white face visible down by his knee, and he kicked at it, wildly, felt a jar up his leg as the kick went home, and at the same moment he cut with all his strength at another head before him. He felt the sword bite into bone; the boat rolled frightfully under him as more of the barge's crew came tumbling into the guard boat. Someone was heaving himself upright before him -- someone with a black gash of a moustache across his face in the starlight, and therefore no Englishman. Hornblower lunged fiercely as a he reeled in the rocking boat, and he and his opponent came down together upon the men under their feet. When he scrambled up the struggle was over, without a shot being fired. The guard boat's crew was dead, or overboard, or knocked unconscious. Hornblower felt his neck and his wrist wet and sticky -- with blood, presumably, but he did not have time to think about that.
"Into the barge, men," he said. "Give way."
Awesome! You can FEEL it happening. And C.S. Forester can do description, too, like this achingly lyrical evocation of a ship at sea:
They left the lamp-lit brilliance of the cabin for the darkness of the deck. The stars were glowing in the dark sky, and the Sutherland was stealing ghostlike over the sea which reflected them; her pyramids of canvas soared up to invisibility, and the only sounds to be heard were the rattle of the rigging and the periodic music of the water under her forefoot as she rode over the tiny invisible waves.
Yum. So beautiful, just at the level of sound, and the description is, again, grounded in the POV of someone who's very firmly located in a particular place.
Oh, and there's plenty of romance too, and the books are just as awash in slash potential as you might expect from stories about men in close quarters, with flogging. But mostly, and I am not just saying this to justify the fact that I'm procrastinating about packing, they're just beautifully written, crackling adventure stories. Who woulda thunk?