I’ve been methodically reading through Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin series: 20 historical novels set in the British navy during the early part of the 19th century. Rip-roaring sea yarns… Not my usual fare, but a glowing review of them in Harper’s magazine when O’Brian passed away made me add them to my list…

At their best the writing is comparable to Jane Austen (at least others have made the comparison…). Now - 18 novels on, and in the midst of number 19 - they are comfortable and familiar: a polite way of saying that their repeated elements are greeted with a smile: Maturin is always in need of help when attempting to board ship; Aubrey still fervently believes in the benefits of regular gunnery exercise; and Killick’s ear is never far from the keyhole, and his fanatical urge to polish the silverware continues unabated…

O’Brian does have his shortcomings, one of which is a most callous regard for some of the secondary characters. This reached its height in the current title: The Hundred Days. Maturin’s wife (the predictably “raven haired” and “hot-blooded” Diana), is disposed of in the front flap copy:

“Stephen, physically as indominatable as ever, is numbed by the death of his wife, Diana, killed in an accident brought about, characteristically, by her own reckless driving”

At first I thought this was an editor’s slip - surely such a significant development should not be revealed in this offhand manner? But O’Brian himself is just as casual. In the first chapter the accident is described third-hand in a single sentence. And just as abruptly we subsequently learn that Jack Aubrey’s inconvenient mother-in-law was (conveniently) victim of the same “reckless driving”.

Not much more is made of either loss: there are sails to be set, guns to fire, and spotted dog (“the glistening, gently mottled pudding, bedewed with its unctuous sauce”) for dessert…