In `The Good Soldier', Mead has taken on seemingly insuperable odds and won. Could there be a character less sympathetic to the age we find ourselves in? How, in an `anti-war' and above all `anti-THAT-war' environment, do you hope to determine whether someone whose "name today is still synonymous with pointless expenditure of life in conditions of ghastly filth" is worth de-demonising, and still command a reader's attention? How, when celebrity is all and available to all, can you hope to persuade a contemporary audience to connect with a "tongue-tied Scots cavalryman", "without sparkle", who had "no charlatanism in his nature", and - beyond today's pale - came from old money and was not averse to pulling a string or two to assist his progress up the slippery military pole.? Mead therefore rather understates his task: "he is a hard character to like, not least because `being liked' was never very high on his list of ambitions." Yet he pulls it off, quite simply by telling his story, simply. And by the end of this tour de force - from Aldershot to South Africa, from India to the killing fields of Flanders - you feel something for a leader of men who showed little feeling. And something a lot less for Haig's peers - like Lloyd George and Churchill - who more readily strike a chord with "today's society, one in which public figures, at the drop of a hat, lay bare their souls, beat their breasts, thump tubs, even if they have very little to say." This is a very `good' book, indeed.