the jane austen of the seven seas

Since I mentioned Patrick O'Brian in my previous post, I feel the need to explain.

Did you see Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World a few years back? You remember, Russell Crowe in an for-some-reason-always-unbuttoned shirt, pretending he's not Australian. Paul Bettany looking scruffy and wearing tiny eyeglasses. Guys in tights, oh, sorry, breeches. Poignant scene with young blond amputee.

Well, it was based on a book. A book I was aware of, but hadn't read. When I was working in a bookstore years ago, one of my jobs was to shelve the new shipments of books that came into the store. I loved this part--browsing, perusing, and alphabetizing book after book after book. It took me longer than anyone else because I always stopped to read the back covers, but my manager didn't mind because it meant I could talk intelligently about most of what the customers were buying. And whenever I got assigned to "Fiction" (Yes! So much better than "Sports" or, worse, "Computers") there would always be a copy or two of Master and Commander to replace what had been sold, as well as the other books in what was evidently a very long and very popular series.

So when the movie came out, I recognized the title. I liked the movie well enough to go out and buy a used copy of the book to read on the plane on the way to Thailand. Much to my surprise, the book was nothing like the movie! The movie was (VERY loosely) based on the tenth volume of the series, titled The Far Side of the World, but for some reason the filmmakers decided to use the title of the first book.

Anyway, the book was fabulous. Dry, subtle humor that had me laughing out loud. (Husband doesn't think the passages I can't help but read aloud to him are all that funny.) Carefully drawn characters. A maniacal obsession with historical detail. Obscure, archaic jargon. An old-fashioned structure--it began at the beginning and ended at the end, unlike so many modern novels that present their stories in jumpy, movie-scene-sized segments that can't stay in one place (lousy TV and Faulkner, paving the way for no-attention-span novels!). When I asked Husband to send me some things, I requested some necessities I'd forgotten to pack...and the next book in the series.

He sent the next two, and about a week later I was ready for number 4. When he arrived in Thailand he brought the fourth and fifth books, which I devoured, and when Mom came to visit a few months later she brought me 6-9. When we visited the U.S. a few months ago I picked up used copies of the tenth-sixteenth books, and I've already read each of those...twice. (Yeah. I have a problem. Mango and sticky rice has nothing on this obsession.)

Anyway, reviewers are always comparing O'Brian to Jane Austen, whom I'd never read, though I've seen all those film adaptations of her novels starring people like Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. I've since started reading Austen, and I've got to say that the comparison is very apt. O'Brian is more modern in his approach, of course, and he's willing to discuss topics that Austen never would have touched, but the language and style are really very similar, and the dialogue could often have been overheard at the same supper party.