There are two things to say about this book. The first is, that whilst the publisher has made a highly unsubtle attempt to position this work as ‘the new Flashman’, to the extent that the dust jacket is in most respects an almost direct facsimile of the current 30th anniversary edition of the Flashman series, (complete with a helpful endorsement on the back claiming ‘At last! The new Flashman’), in fact this book bears no relation to (nor comparison with) George MacDonald Fraser’s incomparable Flashman series. I would guess that this comparison was never in the mind of the author, Edwin Thomas, but was a wheeze hit upon by his publisher. Had the author intended to create a proto-Flashman, he could have done so to much greater effect by making his central character a lot more like the scoundrelly and debauched Flash. In fact, the hero of this piece, Napoleonic Naval Lieutenant Martin Jerrold, is not a bit like Flashman – rather he is fundamentally decent but misunderstood, nice to women and children, and happy to spend time with attractive young women for the sake of their company, without the endless quest for carnal pleasures which so characterises Flashman. Martin Jerrold is not a natural braveheart – but his frailties are fairly typically human, and he appears to have none of Flashman’s massive and incorrigible defects of character. In fact, Martin Jerrold appears in most respects a pretty typical hero of historical fiction, basically likeable, considerate, and honourable - unlike the deliciously selfish and beastly Flashman, a true antihero, whose very immorality makes him such an utterly compelling character. So, don’t be suckered (as I was) by the dust jacket. This is not the next Flashman. George MacDonald Fraser’s encyclopaedic grasp of both the sweep and minutae of warfare and campaigns in the Nineteenth Century, and his masterly ability to create characters and dialogue which are both utterly authentic and often hysterically funny, are in a different league from The Blighted Cliffs, and to be honest, whoever had the temerity to suggest promoting this novel as the new Flashman, has not done Mr Thomas any service, as his otherwise perfectly enjoyable offering inevitably suffers in the comparison.
The second thing to say about this book, is that it is a thoroughly well written and very enjoyable read. It in fact clearly falls into a very well worked genre – the historical whodunnit (see Ellis Peters, Lindsey Davis, and a host of lesser imitators). In summary, this book is a historical detective novel, as Lieutenant Jerrold unravels a series of murky goings-on involving smugglers and foreigners in 1805 Dover. Now I always feel I should like historical whodunnits (and I’ve avidly followed Lindsey Davis’s superb Falco series, since The Silver Pigs first appeared) but often, I find them disappointing. I recently read another new entrant (the title escapes me) set in Elizabethan England, which frankly was a feeble exercise in bandwagon jumping. It’s like ‘let’s find an historical era which doesn’t have a sleuth, and invent one fast’. The result? Too much implausible cod period dialogue, too many ludicrously improbable happenings, and just too heroic a sleuth at the centre of things. Edwin Thomas’s novel falls into none of these traps. I thought the period dialogue and detail was nicely observed, not intrusive - barely there at all in fact - but well executed with none of the usual howlers of crass modernisms dropped liked clangers into ye supposed ‘olde worlde speke’. All in all, very well told, and pretty believable.
My recommendation is buy and read this book – it’s a nicely done historical piece, with a good sense of the period, and at a very attractive cover price for a hardback (a mere tenner, publishers price - and only eight quid from Amazon). I enjoyed it quite a lot. But Flashman it ain’t, and if I were Edwin Thomas, I would be asking my publisher to stop positioning my work off as something it patently isn’t, and start promoting it on its own well deserved merits.
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