Review: Bradman's Invincibles - Roland Perry

A number of cricket teams will live long in history, having books written about them and having their relative merits forever debated. The most recent of those, the Australians who dominated cricket for fifteen years to 2008 developed a storied reputation perhaps tarnished by a lack of quality lasting opposition. The West Indian team preceding them did the same for nearly twenty years.

Perhaps the most revered cricket team of all was the 1948 Invincibles, who completed an arduous six month tour of England without a loss. The tour was a perfect fusion of circumstance: Bradman's final First Class matches, a cricket-starved world following the Second World War needing non-combatant heroes and finally, a collation of talent probably unrivalled to that time.

In his work Bradman's Invincibles Roland Perry has created a perfunctory and informative book swayed obviously by his allegiance to Sir Donald Bradman. Perry, a writer with several books whose title include the words "Bradman" to his name, spent a number of years in conversation with Sir Donald Bradman and collaborated with him on several works, appears to think that Bradman's word on matters of cricket is absolute and completely true. He has taken every word he could trawl from his time spent with The Don and has turned it into a misguided four-hundred page tome where the point is almost indecipherable. What should have been a celebration has been turned into a trudging day-by-day commentary..

Bradman was undoubtedly the greatest cricketer of all time and even during the 1948 Invincibles tour where he turned forty, was Australia's best batsman. He has also suffered somewhat from revisionism, where posthumous revelations as to his character have begun to unfairly detract from his cricketing legacy. These "revelations" should only add to that legacy - of a genius batsman and excellent captain who wanted - and mostly got - his own way, often at others' expense. Any of his negative character traits are nonexistent on paper.

Relying on one source for the vast majority of one's sources is a mistake, both for one's credibility and entertainment purposes. The author has taken The Don's word as gospel in book which would be infinitely richer and more enjoyable for an Old Testament, Letters and Apocrypha. Perry has little affinity for beautiful prose, writing economically, repetitively and with no flair for either detail or accuracy. His style expects the reader to be in constant wonderment at the achievements of that squad rather than providing the full picture demanded by such an seminal tour.

Neither has Roland Perry skill of analogy, often comparing players across generations in a hackneyed and awkward style - even to the point of using the same comparison twice in three pages. There are several glaring factual errors and those who bridled against Sir Don Bradman's absolute rule are portrayed in an unflattering light. Though the book stretches to 430 pages, the last one-hundred and seventy of those are needlessly given over to potted biographies of the tourists and their vanquished opponents, which, while providing some interesting details is more an annoyance than enjoyable. This follows a passage where the author says it would be pointless to compare "Greatest Ever" teams and then proceeds to do so.

That's not to say that the book is devoid of redeeming features. Bradman's Invincibles provides an interesting peek into some aspects of cricket in the late 1940s, where towels were shoved under shirts and trousers became makeshift thigh and chest guards and breakfast in ration-enforced England consisted of half a piece of toast and a mushroom. The lack of net sessions was mildly surprising, but understandable given the amount of cricket played. Most surprising of all, perhaps, was that both Bill Johnston and Keith Miller often resorted to spin depending on the circumstances of the game; though this in itself is questionable given Perry's unfortunate failure to grasp the difference between leg- and off-cutters.

Bradman's Invincibles is hardly a revolutionary work. It holds interest - perhaps because it's the first cricket book I've read in months (years?) - but is disappointingly perfunctory and poorly rounded.

Golf balls (hit repeatedly against a tank stand with a cricket stump).

Image courtesy: borders.com.au (may they Rest In Peace).

Review: And another thing... - Eoin Colfer

Perhaps Douglas Adams' greatest gift was for procrastination. Which created perhaps his greatest literary gift - an ability to create expansive, rambling narratives which both entertained and advanced the plot (mostly); mostly composed over hours of switch-on, switch-off composition. His legendary ability to achieve minimal results in maximum time abruptly ended the first Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy novel when his publishers literally said "Finish the current chapter and submit it". That he was able to draw the strings together on such long-winded expanses of prose after his short attention span was distracted by coffee, his Mac or even a passing butterfly was not only a gift but random acts of genius.

Eoin Colfer - he of the Artemis Fowl series - evidently has the same ability to ramble. However his contribution to the Hitchhikers' multiverse unfortunately loses steam and becomes less charming and more rambling as it proceeds. Undoubtedly a wonderful writer, Colfer turns phrases easily and thoughtfully, a quality which makes him a reasonable choice as H2G2 writing supremo. However, Douglas Adams had a remarkable knack of being able to knit a plot around his tangential observations that Colfer somehow lacks - you feel as if you are either reading a paragraph aimed at advancing the plot, or one aimed at making the reader snigger. While he's attempted quite successfully to mimic Adams' style, by the half way point many sequences have become interminable you realise the best characters, ideas and plotting were all Adams'.

This results in a book which feels awfully like the Star Wars prequels (ouch!) - the best ideas were the original ones and new "gimmicks" mostly fall flat. When riffing from the chords that Adams laid down, it's punchy and quite amusing. The premise (and plot) of the book is relatively clear - and remarkably straightforward for H2G2 - and Colfer's prosaic nous is evident throughout, the work lags badly and eventually becomes burdensome.

That's not to say it's a bad book, but it feels like Colfer began by encouraging lightning to strike twice (or for a sixth time) and ends with his realisation that no-one can really write like Douglas Adams. Like other artists of the twentieth century - Adams' contemporary Graham Chapman, for example - he will be imitated but it's best to go your own direction with established characters. As an example - have you ever tried to write in someone else's style? It's hard. And apparently gets harder as you plug on through 273 pages.

Having not read any of Artemis Fowl I wasn't sure what to expect of the work, or my beloved H2G2 multiverse. You can't copy inspiration and expect the same results. Like Doctor Who after Russell T. Davies and The West Wing after Sorkin it's best to go in a different direction rather than using creative types with talents in different areas. It's a brave attempt and doesn't reflect badly on Colfer, but doesn't shine like Adams. In a word: expected.

Hitchhikers' fans should still read And Another Thing... but do so prepared to be left flat. First half tennis balls, second half golf balls.

Cover image courtesy: forbiddenplanet.co.uk

Review: Licence Renewed, by John Gardner

Licence Renewed was John Gardner's first attempt at succeeding Ian Fleming in continuing the James Bond narrative. Kingsley Amis first attempted to further the legacy with the late-sixties Colonel Sun, meaning for twelve years the only Bond the world had known was that of the movies, complete with improbable infamy and impossible gadgetry.

Published in 1981, the frontispiece announces grandiosely that "James Bond enters the 1980s" and Gardner, in his own "Author's Note" makes a big deal that all the technology his Bond uses was readily available on either the open or black market. Bond is also characterised with the hallmarks of his literary incarnation - specially blended cigarettes, housekeeper May and a three-inch scar down his right cheek.

No matter how well drawn his 007 is in theory, in practice Gardner's superspy is the same man portrayed cinematically by Roger Moore for a decade: a man of action thrown into the lair of a dangerous and megalomaniacal opponent. The dangerous opponent makes his moves in almost a chapter-by-chapter feel; with Gardner apparently feeling the need to follow the "one small battle followed by a larger one" the EON films were favouring at the time. Licence Renewed reads more like a film novelisation, complete with scenes feeling very set-piecey, rather than a slow exposition detailing Bond's efforts to stop a maniac's attempts to earn power. Whereas the early (and best) Bonds were thrillers, Licence Renewed is an action novel.

It's no coincidence the most successful Bond film in recent memory is Casino Royale. Even though most knew what was going to happen, the filmmakers were still able to engage the viewer encouraging a "What happens now?" attitude. The follow-up, Quantum of Solace, is inferior in nearly every way - continuity-heavy, action-fuelled and thin on plot. That's precisely like the comparison here between a Fleming novel and this Gardner one. It's not bad - just not Fleming.

With Fleming, James Bond had opinions and spent a lot of time thinking and reasoning his way around a problem. He had opinions (the most infamous being that homosexuals couldn't whistle!) and was a fully-coloured character in his own right. His supporting cast were filled in so the reader believed they had a life outside the pages of his works. This isn't something on which you can compliment Gardner and even Bond's opinions, you feel, are those of the author himself. The less said about the the henchmen - generically evil - and love interest(s) - vapid and stolen straight from the movies - the better.

You could do much worse than spend four hours reading Licence Renewed. But you could also do a lot worse than watching The Spy Who Loved Me. But both pale in comparison to the works which made Bond justly famous.

Golf Balls.

Image courtesy: en.wikipedia.org