Customer Reviews

Blue at the Mizzen

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A few years ago, I happened to be traveling in Kazhakstan, and met up with a fellow westerner. We struck up a friendly conversation when I noticed he was reading an Aubrey-Maturin novel. "Oh yes, I love them." he said, "But I've got only two more to go. And when I finish, I don't know what I'll do." I knew exactly what he meant; at least back then we could look ahead to the indefatigable Patrick O'Brian's ongoing output.

But now we're done for. I read "Blue at the Mizzen" two weeks after the sad news of O'Brian's death. As I closed in on the ending, the lump in my throat had nothing to do with the resolution of the plot. And it wasn't really for the drying-up of this amazing flow of dialog and description. Like all great literature, the books will be there forever, to be re-read with pleasure and recommended to friends and family. No, it was for poor Jack and Stephen. Because by now I know well how long it takes to sail around the Horn and I could tell by the number of pages remaining that the tale would end-with the usual flurry of action-but that the two particular friends would still be standing out to sea, far from England. Like Capt. Cook, the great navigator the stories owe so much too, Aubrey and Maturin are triumphant and ever hopeful, but their bones can never rest at home.

If you are a reader of the series, there is no question that you are going to read this book. The only worry is the details. Buy now, or wait for the paperback edition? I say, go for it. And be assured that O'Brian went out at the top of his form. "The Hundred Days" seemed hackneyed and tired, but "Blue at the Mizzen" has all the dialog, the detail and intrigue, all the warmth of the best of the series. It isn't quite the masterpiece some of the earlier books were, but that's just because the characterizations are so familiar that it can't stand on its own. I definitely wouldn't recommend a reader new to the series begin here.

It starts in the Mediterranean, returns to England by way of Madeira, and then sails for South America to do some urgent meddling in Chilean politics at the behest of Sir Joseph Banks. Along the way, we get familiar notes from Jack and Stephen and a set of bit characters, deftly drawn, and that glorious sense of being contained in a little world on the great ocean. Finally, we get to Chile and find things are quite muddled. It will take all of Maturin's cunning and all of Aubrey's dash to sort the matter out, which of course they do. But then it ends. And, if you're like me, you'll sit for awhile and think of all the times you've been transported by Jack and Stephen-and all the Surprises. You can go back, but you can't go on. It's a fine thing, but a sad thing.

About five years ago I was introduced to the Aubrey/Maturin novels of Patrick O'Brian. I first read The Wine Dark Sea, and then I returned to the beginning of the series and promptly read all of the books in the series.

In recent years, I have eagerly awaited the release of new books in the series. And, Blue at the Mizzen was worth the wait.

The Aubrey and Maturin characters have evolved as individuals, as they have aged and had other experiences in life. Unlike most of the earlier books in the series, Blue at the Mizzen features Dr. Maturin to a greater degree than the brooding Capt. Aubrey whose concern over his future makes him more remote to both Maturin and to the reader. After O'Brian killed off Dr. Maturin's wife in The Hundred Days, Dr. Maturin surprisingly develops a romantic interest in a fellow naturalist, Christine Wood. Their romantic episode is odd, but given Maturin's character, that is not really surprising.

As usual, a lot happens in this book, but as in the other books, O'Brian often unleashes the action in a understated or offhanded way. Events happen with little or no warning or with minimal discussion. The intelligence activities involving the Republic of Chile are not as clearly described, for example, as Maturin's South American intelligence activities in The Wine Dark Sea. As with other books in the series, the action sometimes is secondary to the activities on the ship, the relationships of the main and minor characters, and Maturin's focus on the birds and beasts that they encounter. Even so, Blue on the Mizzen was an enjoyable book that held my interest.

How does it compare with the other books in the series? Good question. Personally, I liked it better than The Yellow Admiral, which spent too much time on shore. Unlike other reader reviewers, however, I equally enjoyed both The Hundred Days and Blue at the Mizzen. The early books are wonderful, but even these later books are very good.

For someone who has read any of the Aubrey/Maturin novels, I would not suggest that you start with Blue at the Mizzen. Instead, the O'Brian novice should start with the earliest books in the series. For someone who has read the other Aubrey/Maturin novels, Blue at the Mizzen should be a "must read" book. It is the last one in the series due to O'Brian's recent death. If O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin formula is aging by book #20 in the series, it is still a fine formula that still works in #20. Blue at the Mizzen is a worthy end to the series.

Some critics have referred to the Aubrey/Maturin books as one long novel united not only by their historical setting but also by the central plot element of the Aubrey/Maturin friendship. Having read these fine books over a period of several years, I decided to evaluate their cumulative integrity by reading them consecutively in order of publication over a period of a few weeks. This turned out to be a rewarding enterprise. For readers unfamiliar with these books, they describe the experiences of a Royal Navy officer and his close friend and traveling companion, a naval surgeon. The experiences cover a broad swath of the Napoleonic Wars and virtually the whole globe.
Rereading all the books confirmed that O'Brian is a superb writer and that his ability to evoke the past is outstanding. O'Brian has numerous gifts as a writer. He is the master of the long, careful description, and the short, telling episode. His ability to construct ingenious but creditable plots is first-rate, probably because he based much of the action of his books on actual events. For example, some of the episodes of Jack Aubrey's career are based on the life of the famous frigate captain, Lord Cochrane. O'Brian excels also in his depiction of characters. His ability to develop psychologically creditable characters through a combination of dialogue, comments by other characters, and description is tremendous. O'Brien's interest in psychology went well beyond normal character development, some books contain excellent case studies of anxiety, depression, and mania.
Reading O'Brien gives vivid view of the early 19th century. The historian Bernard Bailyn, writing of colonial America, stated once that the 18th century world was not only pre-industrial but also pre-humanitarian (paraphrase). This is true as well for the early 19th century depicted by O'Brien. The casual and invariable presence of violence, brutality, and death is a theme running through all the books. The constant threats to life are the product not only of natural forces beyond human control, particularly the weather and disease, but also of relative human indifference to suffering. There is nothing particularly romantic about the world O'Brien describes but it also a certain grim grandeur. O'Brien also shows the somewhat transitional nature of the early 19th century. The British Navy and its vessals were the apogee of what could be achieved by pre-industrial technology. This is true both of the technology itself and the social organization needed to produce and use the massive sailing vessals. Aubrey's navy is an organization reflecting its society; an order based on deference, rigid hierarchy, primitive notions of honor, favoritism, and very, very corrupt. At the same time, it was one of the largest and most effective bureaucracies in human history to that time. The nature of service exacted great penalities for failure in a particularly environment, and great success was rewarded greatly. In some ways, it was a ruthless meritocracy whose structure and success anticipates the great expansion of government power and capacity seen in the rest of the 19th century.
O'Brian is also the great writer about male friendship. There are important female characters in these books but since most of the action takes place at sea, male characters predominate. The friendship between Aubrey and Maturin is the central armature of the books and is a brilliant creation. The position of women in these books is ambiguous. There are sympathetic characters, notably Aubrey's long suffering wife. Other women figures, notably Maturin's wife, leave a less positive impression. On board ship, women tend to have a disruptive, even malign influence.
How did O'Brian manage to sustain his achievement over 20 books? Beyond his technical abilities as a writer and the instrinsic interest of the subject, O'Brien made a series of very intelligent choices. He has not one but two major protagonists. The contrasting but equally interesting figures of Aubrey and Maturin allowed O'Brien to a particularly rich opportunity to expose different facets of character development and to vary plots carefully. This is quite difficult and I'm not aware of any other writer who has been able to accomplish such sustained development of two major protagonists for such a prolonged period. O'Brian's use of his historical setting is very creative. The scenes and events in the books literally span the whole globe as Aubrey and Maturin encounter numerous cultures and societies. The naval setting allowed him also to introduce numerous new and interesting characters. O'Brian was able to make his stories attractive to many audiences. Several of these stories can be enjoyed as psychological novels, as adventure stories, as suspense novels, and even one as a legal thriller. O'Brian was also a very funny writer, successful at both broad, low humor, and sophisticated wit. Finally, O'Brian made efforts to link some of the books together. While a number are complete in themselves, others form components of extended, multi-book narratives. Desolation Island, Fortune of War, and The Surgeon's Mate are one such grouping. Treason's Harbor, The Far Side of the World, and The Reverse of the Medal are another. The Letter of Marque and the ensuing 4 books, centered around a circumnavigation, are another.
Though the average quality of the books is remarkably high, some are better than others. I suspect that different readers will have different favorites. I personally prefer some of the books with greater psychological elements. The first book, Master and Commander, is one of my favorites. The last 2 or 3, while good, are not as strong as earlier books. I suspect O'Brian's stream of invention was beginning to diminish. All can be read profitably as stand alone works though there is definitely something to be gained by reading in consecutive order.

Interested reader,

If you are reading these reviews, chances are good you are wondering what all this stuff about Patrick O'Brian and the "Aubrey/Maturin" series is about. Wonder no longer.

"Blue at the Mizzen" represents the last volume of what is overall a rich, wonderful collection of literature. While I've read the disappointment that some have had with the last few books in the series, I respectfully offer the view of a reader who feels touched forever by the author's hand and grateful for having read this series in the first place.

Once you read "Master and Commander," chances are excellent you will adopt Aubrey and Maturin to be among your favorite characters of all time. Who could not chuckle when Stephen Maturin tries yet again trying to come aboard the ship without falling overboard? Who could not envision Killick's severe expressions when Aubrey gets grease on his number one uniform, or become anxious whenever Aubrey sets foot upon land? Who could not feel the loss of a shipmate sent over the side? It is sad to note that we finally see Aubrey make his flag as we get the news that Mr. O'Brian has made his number.

I believe that "Blue at the Mizzen" and all the other books in the series need to be looked at by the prospective reader in total. If you have never read from this series, start with "Master and Commander," and I will guarantee that if you like this first volume and continue through the series, you will be touched by a truly masterful hand.

I wasn't a great fan of the predecessor to this book (The Hundred Days) as it seemed that a lot of life had been sucked out of the series. I then re-read the set from Master and Commander to Blue at The Mizzen.

While the books have changed somewhat, in that they have become less descriptive of the interrelationships between the characters, this is understandable. As Aubrey gets more senior (here for much of the time he is an acting Commodore with a small squadron) the books have to describe a much bigger naval and political picture. O'Brian excels at this.

Unfortunately this means we lose some of the "small ship" feeling, and many of the best characters from earlier in the series are left out. Isn't this a function of life - not only Aubrey and Maturin's but also most readers? As we move on in the world relationships change and we interact with different people. In addition O'Brian would have difficulty in weaving in many old characters and maintaining the sense of historical accuracy that is important to his books (this is however not a justification for Aubrey's lack of response to Bonden's death in the previous book).

Read the whole series from book one and then enjoy this and its predecessor (The Hundred Days). Both books then fall into much better context.

Keep it up Mr O'Brian - you are doing an excellent job. I fervently hope that the unanswered questions surrounding Stephen and Christine Wood (as well as where Aubrey goes from here) mean that we can hope for one more (and preferably more than one) book and a couple of large fleet actions!

I don't know whether I would recommend "Blue at the Mizzen" to someone unfamiliar with Patrick O'Brian's excellent series of nautical novels about Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin because, I believe, much of the pleasure to be derived in reading the book comes from our acquaintance with the main characters from previous novels. But I would have no hesititation at all at recommending it to any Aubrey-Maturin fan. A significant number of readers (not including me) of the previous book in the series, "The Hundred Days", were disappointed in the somber tone of that novel -- an atmosphere fully justified, in my opinion, by the central subject matter. Those readers need not fear a repetition in "Blue at the Mizzen." Stephen Maturin has recovered his interest in the natural world and is once again a fully engaged participant in the events around him. It has been said that this novel might be the final volume in the series (I hope not) but if it is, then the series will end on a high note. The book is full of typical O'Brian touches of elegantly described scenes and subtle characterizations. If it is not quite the equal of "Post Captain" or "Desolation Island" (but what is?) there is still much in "Blue at the Mizzen" to make longtime fans of the series smile with satisfaction. And if it is not the final volume, then I shall look forward with great pleasure to the next book.

Even though I believe that the Aubrey-Maturin series is one of the great works of prose fiction of the 20th century, the latest (and 20th) book in the series, Blue at the Mizzen, is a disappointment. Indeed the last few books in the series (starting with the Wine-Dark Sea, have gotten progressively weaker, but even they have always had many compelling pages. The great humor, the exciting naval action, the lovely historical feel, but above all the wonderful language and psychological acuity are missing here. The female characters are, no surprise, mere plot devices. (Both Sophie and Clarissa barely figure, and the smart and beautiful Mrs. Wood, who Maturin falls for, makes little sense as a character.) But the subordinate characters in general lack interest, even the prominently featured midshipman Hansen, the bastard son of the Duke of Clarence. The local color in early 19th century Chile seems washed out, insubstantial. Worst of all, the two principals are presented pro forma, as if O'Brian is just tired of them. While there is a satisfying (finally) move up to Admiral for Aubrey, the story (with no more Napoleonic foes, and no more money worries) has run out of gas. Is this the last of the novels? Aubrey-Maturin fans will be disappointed that we have lost track of Pullings, Babbington, Mowett, and Martin completely-what happened to them? Where oh where is to Aubrey's illegitimate son, Sam Panda, last seen in nesrby Peru-and why do Jack's thoughts never run to him? This is, of course, a must-read for Aubrey-Maturin fans, but compared to the invigorating, full-blooded novels in the series, this one reads like the weak, lukewarm tea that Jack and Stephen so detest.

Although Blue at the Mizzen is readable on its own, it is perhaps an injustice to it to do so. The book, as with any one of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin novels, is merely chapter 20 in what is trully an epic. Each volume/chapter is integral; there is not a single weak link in the tale. It was thus with great sadness that I read of Mr. O'Brian's recent death; Blue at the Mizzen is the final chapter.

Things could be worse. Mr O'Brian, intentionally or no, has brought the resolution of many long-standing issues to his characters, though these resolutions also promise new beginings which the reader will now have to make up on his (her) own. Blue at the Mizzen is the type of novel Mr O'Brian's vast readership have come to expect: tragedy ballanced keenly with triumph, exploration of world and soul, the peculiar gains we find in loss, and the losses we face in victory. Blue at the Mizzen is a must read for anyone who has read the epic till this point. Others will still find it enjoyable, but are strongly suggested to start with volume/chapter one: Master and Commander.

Patrick O'Brien once described the Napoleonic Wars as "the Troy tales" of the British people, playing as central a role in the national myth as the Trojan wars did for the ancient Greeks. His incomparable series, based on the vicissitudes of the professional career of Jack Aubrey of the Royal Navy, who rises from humble Lieutenant to Admiral (with one reduction to the ranks and a court martial and public disgrace along the way), has become a cult among his many admirers.

There are three main reasons for this. First, the naval lore and action are quite as good and compelling as the battles of C S Foresters's Horatio Hornblower. Second, these are real novels, more than rattling good action yarns, with complex characters, credible women (Diana Villiers is a grand creation) and a genuine historical sense of life ashore that reveal O'Brien's admiration for Jane Austen. Above all, the series is given life and depth and tension by the heart of the books, the friendship between Aubrey and Stephen Maturin, the half-Irish, half-Catalan, who is naturalist, physician, musician and spy.

At times, the reader is lost in the world of Charles Darwin and the voyage of 'The Beagle' as Maturin delights in the flora and fauna that come the way of the Royal Navy in the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean, the Antarctic, the South Pacific and the Newfoundland Banks. At times, one is lost in a world of culinary history, or of secret intelligence, or primitive surgery. The French enemies are drawn with intelligent sympathy, and the American naval adversaries treated with proper respect.

To embark upon the long voyage of this marvellous series is to plunge into a compelling and enchanting world. I have bought half a dozen copies of the first book of the series, 'Master and Commander', to lure choice friends into this sweet obsession of O'Brien's world. My own favourite remains 'The Mauritius Command', but I know that once I begin it, I shall have to recommence the pleasure of re-reading the series. Life is too short not to surrender to the indulgence, again and again.

So seemingly effortless, yet so rich in every phrase --- O'Brian is again at the top of his form; not just the tale he tells, but also the way he throws off ideas, characters, and plot with brief phrases that sing together so sweetly. It's a rare fine wine, enjoyed best by those who have developed a taste for it in the first twenty volumnes. Aubrey has aged, and has grown more silent, more brooding, the aging man of action losing some of his physical prowess, his ambition, but with habits of courage so deeply ingrained; Maturin the aging philosophe, brought to life not only by his spirited study of the natural world but also by the discovery of his aging heart's new trilling at the thought of Ms Woods. God, this stuff is great!