Category Archives: Earlier 20th C

The Ends of the Earth by Robert Goddard (The Wide World 3)

The Ends of the Earth | Robert Goddard | 2015 | Bantam Press | 379p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Ends of the Earth by Robert GoddardIt is 1919 and, finally, the negotiations to settle the Great War are complete. Ambassadors and agents disperse from Paris back to their respective countries. Peace can ensue while, for some, the circumstances that will lead to a second war are underway. The balance of power has shifted; spies and double agents are rife; secrets are everything. But in the business of secrets lives count for very little indeed. Nobody knows that better than James ‘Max’ Maxted, the man who survived years as a pilot and then a prisoner of war but whose war really began when his father Sir Henry was murdered in Paris while attending the peace negotiations.

The Ends of the Earth completes Robert Goddard’s historical thriller trilogy, one of the most intricate and clever spy novels that I have read. You’d have to be bonkers to read The Ends of the Earth without having first read its predecessors, The Ways of the World and The Corners of the Globe. Although each of the novels, including this latest one, contain complete stages in Max’s hunt for the truth surrounding his father’s murder, each follows on directly from the one before. In fact, The Corners of the Globe effectively finished in mid-sentence, in the biggest cliffhanger that I’ve read (it made me grumble, I can tell you), but now, at last, my curiosity and impatience have been satisfied. If you’ve not read the earlier novels, then now is the perfect time to do so – the trilogy is complete! This will make life much easier for your memory – mine has had to struggle with remembering names and facts over the two years that I’ve read these three books – and it will mean that you can read them in one fell swoop. This by far the best way to appreciate this fantastic, incredibly clever story.

It isn’t easy to review the last book in a trilogy like this. I want to give nothing away and, as with the previous books, there are twists and turns, shocks and surprises, throughout. This is a lethal world. The stakes are enormous and so it’s not a surprise that a fair few people don’t survive to emerge on the other side. What I can say is that in this novel, as expected, the action moves from Paris to what would have indeed felt like the ends of the Earth – Japan. In the early 20th century, Japan would have seemed an exotic, almost alien, land to Max, Sam, Malory and Schools. Having brought 1919 Paris and England and Scotland to life in the first two books, Robert Goddard now achieves the same with Japan. It’s a mesmerising portrait, violent and sinister as well as beautiful and kind.

The Ends of the Earth is rather different from the previous two novels. It all feels much more personal – I won’t tell you why. There are also elements to the story which are particularly distressing and tragic. As noted in The Corners of the Globe, Max is not the man he once was. He has been totally changed during his transformation into a spy. He knows it, too.

The plot is as deliciously complicated as before but by this stage the lines are more clearly drawn, the enemy stepping out from the shadows. Action is what matters now and when it comes it is so thrilling and tense. At last, everything comes to a head and it is utterly compelling.

In an ideal world I would have preferred all three books to have been published in one volume – this would have maintained the momentum from start to finish – but there are small recaps along the way and they do help. I’ve waited for The Ends of the Earth for many months now and it is everything I wanted. I cannot praise Robert Goddard’s skill enough – this is a masterful historical spy thriller but it is more than that. It is a portrait of the world in the aftermath of a devastating war; countries emerge in new forms, constructed and deconstructed by intelligence networks that cross the planet. Human lives have paid the cost for this transformation but some of the greatest tragedies, the ones that emerge here, are the quiet ones and the results of these will last for generations. The Wide World is an outstanding trilogy, Max a remarkable hero, and I heartily recommend it.

Other reviews
The Ways of the World
The Corners of the Globe

A God in Ruins by Kate Atkinson

A God in Ruins | Kate Atkinson | 2015 (7 May) | Doubleday | 400p | Review copy | Buy the book

A God in Ruins by Kate AtkinsonTwo years ago, Kate Atkinson’s Life After Life caused a stir that still continues. This week, its companion novel A God in Ruins is published. These two novels complement each other, you don’t need to have read one to enjoy the other, but if you have read Life After Life and you loved its tale of Ursula Todd, then I think there’s a good chance that you will be blown away by this new story of her brother Teddy. I enjoyed Life After Life very much, finding it extremely clever, but it engaged my heart far less than my head. I expected something similar from A God in Ruins. I was in for a shock. A God In Ruins turned out to be one of the most emotionally powerful novels I have ever had the pleasure of reading. I have no hesitation in declaring that it will be a contender for my top novel of 2015. If you loved Life After Life, even if you just liked it as I did, you will adore A God in Ruins.

This review is not an easy one to write. While we are familiar with some of the characters who return from Life After Life, the emotional impact of A God in Ruins relies on you knowing as little as possible about it when you begin. So, instead of giving anything away, this review aims to tell you something of why it has left such a significant and, I am confident, lasting impression on me.

In Life After Life, Ursula Todd lives a succession of alternate lives, each one ending in a different way, time or place, but always resulting in yet another rebirth, a new life living another possibility. Her younger brother, World War II bomber pilot and countryside poet, Teddy, featured incidentally but memorably in several of these lives. In A God in Ruins, we have Teddy’s story – one life but not told in a conventional manner. The novel moves through Teddy’s life, jumping backwards and forwards, chapter by chapter, but also within chapters. The story is told by a wise narrator who leaves clues to future, present and past, as we learn to know Ted Todd very well indeed, as we do everyone else in his life. The narrative moves between generations, different perspectives of the same event are provided, memories come and go, places are visited and revisited. It is organic and whole. A God in Ruins is a brilliantly structured novel, its strands knitted together expertly, beautifully.

A God in Ruins lulled me into a false sense of security. It moved gently as it invited me, the reader, to want to get to know Teddy, introducing me to a young child describing nature to his glamorous, rather eccentric aunt Izzy on a meandering country walk, before moving me on with a jolt to another generation in a much different time. But slowly and surely, everything begins to knot together and that is when the heart becomes engaged and emotions start to build. I loved Teddy – not just the child but the man he becomes, so much so that I am tearful even thinking about him!

Just like Life After Life, A God in Ruins is a novel about war. Teddy’s experiences as a pilot of Halifax bombers colours his entire life, affecting every relationship, and we are immersed in the depths of pain and turmoil that hide in Teddy’s heart.

I’m not going to tell you here about what happens to Teddy, or about any of the people who move through this novel and Teddy’s life – each of them will grab hold of you, your feelings towards them will change, you will care deeply, maybe even dislike one or two of them intensely. But I will say that one of the reasons that I loved this book so much is because it made me think deeply about how little we might really know about those we love, how rewarded we would be if we dug a little, even if it also hurt a bit. The themes here are huge – life can be short; it is important to live that life fully and well.

A God in Ruins is a melancholic novel, it has scenes that are extremely upsetting, the more so because Kate Atkinson has the gift of making us care about her characters. But there are many light moments, humorous phrases, which contribute to the novel’s intense sense of being about the lives of real people. The relationships in it are complex and so believable and recognisable. The dialogue is spot on. All linked by the knowing, compassionate and very human voice of our author’s persona.

At the heart of this remarkable, wonderful book, though, is Teddy – I’m struggling to think of any other character in a novel I’ve felt so drawn to. Prepare to laugh and cry – and possibly cry an awful lot – as you get to know this man as he lives through his life, teaching us as he goes about what the years have taught him about home, love, family, war, nature, duty and death. I am overwhelmed.

Other review
Life After Life

Serpents in the Cold by Thomas O’Malley and Douglas Graham Purdy

Publisher: Mulholland Books
Pages: 387
Year: 2015 (29 January)
Buy: Paperback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Serpents in the Cold by Thomas O'Malley and Douglas Graham PurdyReview
It is 1951 and winter has gripped the city of Boston in a vice. These are dark times for the city. The post-war years have left the streets in decline, the residents depressed, the politicians as corrupt and violent as the gangsters who control the city’s businesses. Even the streets themselves are up for sale, whole neighbourhoods sold to the highest bidder for demolition, communities destroyed by dirty deals. It is a year since the Great Brink’s Robbery, the largest robbery in US history, its proceeds lost in the unhappy streets. And now in this brutal winter which has locked Boston in ice, a serial killer is loose.

Two children walking their dog along the bay discover the remains of the latest victim, a young woman, her throat slit, her body frozen. In life the woman was Sheila Anderson, the sister-in-law of Dante Cooper, a man trying to reclaim his life from drugs and debt to thugs. Dante’s closest friend, Cal O’Brien, used to be a police detective but now, damaged by his war experiences, he runs a respectable private security business. But now both men have one thing on their minds – justice for Sheila. Going undercover, the two men become vigilantes, digging deep into Boston’s secrets, discovering that there is much more to fear than a serial killer. For every discovery they make, the risks soar and the cost becomes ever more dear.

Serpents in the Cold is a historical mystery that manages to consume the reader, pulling him or her into this dangerous world that is little removed from us in time but is a world away in so many ways. The atmosphere is close and claustrophobic. The city feels almost like an island with everyone trapped inside it. Boston’s criminals flourish in all levels of society. It feels unclean. The ice and the cold are bitterly felt. This is a chilly novel indeed. It’s as if everyone is waiting for the ice to melt so that they can make their escape from this trap that is prowled by conmen, gangsters and murderers. It’s not just the serial killers who kill, though. There’s a strong sense that police are losing control and that they need the help of Cal and Dante to solve these murders but Cal and Dante are not your typical detectives.

This is an extremely noir-y and violent novel, reflecting the violent times. The authors pull no punches. At times it is shocking, building up to a climax that is both edge of the seat and disturbing. Cal is haunted by horrors and they come and go through the pages. For Dante, his nightmares are in the present. The story of his marriage is harrowing and we can understand why it means so much that he find justice for his wife’s sister.

As the novel proceeds, we are guided through Boston’s underworld, introduced to its businessmen and politicians, its thugs, and those who are trying to live an honourable life, caring for families, looking after those worse off. Sheila becomes more and more crucial and, although a murder victim, she has a presence throughout the book. Adding to the atmosphere and the strong presence of Boston itself as a central character, the book contains several contemporary photographs of the city in 1951.

There are no tidy resolutions in Serpents in the Cold. There’s a sense from the very beginning that things are going to get nasty and they don’t disappoint. Holding it all together are the charismatic figures of Dan and Cal, each with their own problems and resolutions, but each bringing hope to the novel through the force of their friendship and their dedication to pursue justice, however dirty it gets.

Melnitz by Charles Lewinsky

Publisher: Atlantic Books
Pages: 634
Year: 2006, this English trans. 2015 (5 February)
Buy: Large Paperback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Melnitz by Charles LewinskyReview
First published in 2006 in Switzerland, this is a review of the English translation of Melnitz to be published by Atlantic Books at the beginning of February.

In 1871, a knock at the door of cattle-dealer Salomon Meijer changes the life of the entire Meijer family. But this will not be for the last time. Over a period of almost seventy years, strangers enter the lives of this family, sometimes with the most unpromising of entrances, but always they transform it, bringing love, marriage, business opportunities and, often disturbingly, news of life beyond the island of Switzerland.

Anti-Semitism is well-established and a part of everyday life in central Europe in 1871, although some prefer to keep it hidden, with both Jews and non-Jews maintaining a polite distance, curious and puzzled by the customs and habits of the other. But over the course of these seventy years, all this is changed by the rise of National Socialism. The Meijer family is luckier than most, safe in neutral Switzerland but, while Switzerland becomes a sanctuary for the lucky few to escape Germany, the Meiers are not alone in feeling under threat. Not all of them are safe. And whispering in their ears the entire time, through all the years of love, marriages, disappointments, achievements, births and deaths, is the voice of Uncle Melnitz, the man who dies over and over again, his sole job to remind his kin of the plight of the Jews, to take the edge off every moment of happiness, to forewarn and tease.

Melnitz is a grand family saga covering five generations of the Meijer family and divided into four sections: 1871, 1893, 1913 and 1937. When the story begins, Janki arrives on the doorstep of Salomon (to whom he is complicatedly related) half-dead and a refugee of the Franco-Prussian War. Janki is French and as he revives and is adopted into this family, stirring up the two young women of the house, he brings about his dream of opening a shop to sell the finest Parisian fabrics. But Janki is not only a Frenchman he is also a Jew and it takes time and trouble for his life to become established. As we follow Janki and his family we watch Janki endure increasing prejudice until one event happens in particular that will almost rob him from these pages. This is a true power of Melnitz – the characters engage us with their daily lives, their small adventures and their little achievements but sometimes something will happen and that will snap these people right back into their shells. Occasionally, characters will be inspired to undertake great acts of bravery – two stand out in particular, during the First World War and in the months leading to the Second – but some disappear into themselves. It is painful for us. We get to know these people. It’s difficult to watch them suffer.

Five generations come and go through the novel. Some characters stand out more than most, some disappear too soon, others prove themselves to be extraordinary while others are shown to be perfectly normal, living from day to day, engaged with their family and/or business. But then they get a jolt – the arrival of another outsider, and the small world of Switzerland is expanded once more. Repeatedly, though, there are shocking reminders of what the Jew must suffer. One can dress the same as everyone else, even undergoing baptism, but everyone will always know – a Jew is always a Jew.

I am such a fan of family sagas. I love to become involved with people through decades of time, watching them change and, hopefully, meet their just desserts, whether for good or bad. This novel is a little different because you know that events are underway that are outside the characters’ control and the shadow of National Socialism is about as dark as a shadow can get. Melnitz appealed for all these reasons and it was a compelling read. It is a very substantial book, beautifully written, and it develops slowly. It is full of daily life, revealing the eccentricities of the characters – Salomon in particular is quite a character while Arthur, a 1930s doctor, is such an appealing figure, taking years – and many pages – to know himself. The female characters are slightly less well developed in my opinion but Chanele, Salomon’s adopted daughter who is no daughter, is wonderful. Throughout we are introduced to a veritable host of cameo figures who come and go, each leaving their mark. The pace is slow at times but it is by no means dull. The banter of conversation, the telling of events, relationships and foibles is done with such delicacy and wit. And now and again Uncle Melnitz adds the slightest breath of fantasy.

The narrative is interspersed throughout with Yiddish terms. I can understand why but I did find these a little tiresome after a while, despite the lengthy glossary at the back. There are an awful lot of them. There are also more typos and errors than I would expect – they probably only number a few but I found them very noticeable. The prose itself, though, is really rather beautiful in places, in words and in structure. The English translation by Shaun Whiteside is excellent.

While the first half of Melnitz seems to be all about establishing the family, its relationships, its village life and business aspirations, the second half is about the impact of the outside world on that life. This meant that, for me, the second half was a much faster read and I got drawn further and further into these lives. But the second half wouldn’t have had the emotional impact it had without the background lovingly laid down in the first. Melnitz is a rewarding, thoughtful read. It contains frequent moments of light, shining in an increasingly and frighteningly dark world.

Ostland by David Thomas

Publisher: Quercus
Pages: 434
Year: 2013, Pb 2014
Buy: Paperback, Kindle
Source: Bought copy

Ostland by David ThomasReview
It is February 1941 and a serial killer preys upon young women in the quiet carriages of Berlin’s S-Bahn trains. The city is horrified and expects the murderer to be caught swiftly. Commissioner Lüdtke is in charge of the case, which drives him into the ground, falling asleep with exhaustion at his desk, but his methods are textbook. He becomes teacher to Georg Heuser, a new, young and idealistic police detective, who, in his very first week, is faced with a case that is in danger of defeating even Lüdtke. But Heuser has a natural talent for detective work – he rejuvenates the hunt, inspires his team, becomes obsessed with the drive to rid Berlin of this evil. It is no less than a personal crusade, a battle of intelligence and wills between himself and the S-Bahn murderer. But this is no ordinary case – how can it be? Controller of the police force is Reinhard Heydrich and this is the very heart of the Third Reich.

In 1959 lawyers Max Kraus and Paula Siebert have their own case to pursue – the prosecution of Nazi war criminals who committed atrocities on the Eastern Front, in Ostland. At last they have their target. They make a sensational arrest, a police chief known as the Beagle by his staff for his unfailing ability to track down the criminal. To Krause and Siebert he is a monster and his name is George Heuser.

When Ostland begins, the reader is soon nestled within the familiar world of the police procedural crime novel. We follow the clues along with Heuser, watch him learn his trade from Lüdtke, becoming a crucial member of this tired and dedicated team of detectives, falling in love with the female member of the team, on the hunt for a killer who preys on women, disturbing the calm of a vibrant and arrogant city. But it’s not long before everything is thrown up into the air and the pieces scatter. Interspersed throughout the chapters set in 1941 are others set almost twenty years into the future. In these, Kraus and Siebert have to discover what it was that turned a good man into a man as evil as any produced by the Reich. What happened to Heuser?

The development (if that’s the right word) of the monster within Heuser is mirrored by the novel’s movement from west to east. Once Heuser attracts the attention of Reinhard Heydrich, the controller of Reich security (including its police forces), and is moved to Minsk the days are numbered for Heuser’s morality but it is much more complicated than that. Everyone, including Lüdtke, has to ‘manage’ the rise of Nazism in one form or another, but Heuser’s degeneration is on another level entirely and his case throws open the diabolical truth of Nazism that many could have turned a blind eye against in the prosperous streets of Berlin during the early days of war.

The ironies are overflowing – that Heydrich could have been so appalled by murder in Berlin; that Heuser could have wanted to protect Berlin’s women but held life so cheap in the East. Heuser tells his story in the first person and this makes it all the more horrifying, as the warmth grows cold. It’s not often that I’ve read a novel where the reader’s relationship with the narrator becomes increasingly antagonistic as he becomes more and more unreliable. Heuser is perfectly able to describe the police procedural of the early chapters but once he is in the East, the reader has to make use of his or her peripheral vision, watching around the edges of the narrative for the appalling truth. It’s an extraordinary self-portrait of a man’s disintegration.

The story of Max Kraus and Paula Siebert is inevitably overshadowed by Georg Heuser – his voice is just too compelling. But it is complete in its own right, with Paula in particular experiencing her own transformation, in her career and in her personal life. This is a time in which female lawyers were few and far between and to make matters more tense they are working in a Germany trying to come to terms with its past and to make amends.

Ostland is an extremely powerful novel. It races along as all crime fiction should but it is as harrowing as it is thrilling. We meet numerous people along the way, all of whom leave their mark. Its structure is clever and effective and it is a book that refuses to leave you for quite some time. Outstanding and near impossible to put down.

For two other reviews, please do see Nick’s at Reading Gives Me Wings and Raven’s at Raven Crime Reads.

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

Publisher: Fourth Estate
Pages: 544
Year: 2014, Pb 2015
Buy: Hardback, Kindle, Paperback
Source: Bought copy

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony DoerrReview
It is 1944 and leaflets fly through the air of St Malo, a medieval walled city almost entirely surrounded by sea on the French coast. The leaflets warn the inhabitants of the great storm to come – the allies are about to bomb the city and all who can should leave. Marie-Laure, though, is a young girl and she is blind. She cannot read the leaflets. She hides in her great uncle’s house, waiting for the bombardment to end, wanting to protect the model of St Malo that her father built for her so that she could memorise her way around the narrow streets, but listening out for the signs of evil entering the house in the guise of an unwanted guest. The war is about to get close enough to Marie-Laure that she could reach out and touch it.

Moving between the past, present and future, All the Light We Cannot See allows us to enter the lives of two young people, the French Marie-Laure and Werner, a gifted German boy who knows how to make radios and anything mechanical work. Marie-Laure had lived a relatively content life in Paris with her museum locksmith father, coming to terms with her blindness – she lost her sight aged six – and learning the streets of the city through the models made by her father. That all changed when the Germans invaded the city. Marie-Laure and her father joined the flood of refugees, hiding in St Malo in the mysteriously wonderful house of her great uncle and his strong, brave housekeeper. Werner, just the same age, lived in an orphanage with his sister. His genius earned him the attention of the powerful and he is taken to a military school populated by blond haired boys with blue eyes. It is a baptism of sorts and from it he emerges into a world on fire with war and hatred and death and loneliness. Inevitably, the stories of these two individuals will touch in a novel that carries the tale right through until the present day.

All the Light We Cannot See is a magical novel, lit by the most beautiful prose and gently powerful stories. Werner and Marie-Laure are quiet individuals, vulnerable in many ways – the girl because she cannot see and the boy because he is trapped alone in a system he cannot fight – and yet the drama of the events that surround them is as loud as the bombs that hit St Malo hour after hour. This mingling of the innocent with the guilty and the quiet with the loud is extraordinarily effective and brings the horror of war and the devastating cruelty of the Nazi regime into sharp contrast. Watching events unfold through the perspectives of these two young people, on opposing sides of the conflict though they may be, works very well.

There are moments that stand out among many memorable chapters. I loved the journeys that Marie-Laure is taken on, all without leaving the house, by her eccentric and fascinating great uncle. The moment when the young blind girl walks in the sea waves for the first time is extraordinary and deeply beautiful and sensual. There is much suffering in this girl’s life but there are moments of beauty. For Werner there is very little of that. The scenes set in the military school are harrowing indeed, training the boys to become obedient Nazis. But it is not black and white. Werner is not evil, but what he observes is and his part in it is something that he must deal with throughout the novel.

Moving through the book is another story – the mystery of a blue stone which has the power to protect and preserve its owner while destroying everything he or she holds dear. Whether this power is true or not, it certainly seems real to many and it complicates the fates of many of the characters that we grow close to through the novel, as well as others we don’t. The mystery adds another dimension to the book, giving Marie-Laure and Werner the hope of fantasy or escape. But is is gently done.

The reader is in the position of knowing more about the Nazi regime than our young witnesses but seeing it unfold through their developing experiences adds something both poignant and powerful to its telling. The characters of the youngsters, Marie-Laure in particular, are richly alive and unforgettable. I’ve read a fair few novels about war in this commemorative year of 2014 but All the Light We Cannot See is my favourite.

Time and Time Again by Ben Elton

Publisher: Bantam Press
Pages: 400
Year: 2014 (6 November)
Buy: Hardback, Kindle
Source: Review copy

Time and Time Again by Ben EltonReview
It is Christmas 2024 and Hugh ‘Guts’ Stanton is a man with nothing to lose. His wife and children are dead, killed in a road accident just a few months before. So when Sally McCluskey, his eccentric and difficult to dislike (or ignore) old Professor, summons him to Cambridge to spend the holidays with her, to talk about her latest project, he has little reason to say no. What if, she asks him, you could go back in time and change history, which piece of history would you put to rights? This is the question that has been handed down the line of Masters of Trinity College for the longest of times. McCluskey is now Master and it is at this time that the question can finally be answered.

A door to the past is about to open. Hugh Stanton, an adventurer and ex-military man with nothing to keep him in the present and nothing to look forward to in the future, is ideally placed and skilled to step through that door and to prevent one of the most catastrophic events of the 20th century – the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand and his Duchess in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914.

This, then, is where Ben Elton takes us in his new thriller, Time and Time Again. I have also given you just the barest of bones because this book is packed to the rafters with surprises (some of them are belters) and much of its pleasure derives from its shocks. The premise might sound rather familiar – it did make me think of Kate Atkinson’s Life After Life as well as Claire North’s The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August, plus, in a commemorative year that resonates with the legacy of 1914, the premise of Time and Time Again might appear on the face of it too neat. But after the fewest of pages, it became entirely clear to me that Time and Time Again would defy all my expectations. Ben Elton has taken a popular premise and made it his own in the same way that he has done something wonderful with the tried and tested timeslip genre. Two Brothers was one of my very favourite reads of 2013 – Time and Time Again is every bit as striking and memorable.

Ben Elton has a strong sense of the burden of history and it is as apparent in Time and Time Again as it was in Two Brothers, albeit this time we are touching on a different war. With the benefit of hindsight, both ours and Hugh’s, the significance of the smallest detail in Hugh’s journey in the past is felt so strongly. The historical details and settings are meticulous and vivid. Moving through history, Hugh tries to stay aloof, to keep clear his mission, but the past slowly brings Hugh back to life, he starts to find its colour, reassured that his own past is now eradicated, the future unwritten.

There are so many conundrums in this clever novel that a reader needs some wits about them. Arguably, nothing is easier or harder than to change history and it’s not long before Hugh is tied up in his very own Gordion Knot. But while this is intellectually enjoyable and teasing, Time and Time Again also contains some simpler pleasures, not least in the character of Irish suffragette Bernaette ‘Bernie’ Burdette who is an absolute delight. Likewise, there is humour, especially in the shape of Professor McClusky who gets most of the good lines and enjoys telling them. Above all else, this novel sparkles with such a powerful, all pervasive love of the past and a deep sense of foreboding for what might happen if people should think themselves foolish enough to be able to play with it.

Without doubt, Ben Elton is one of the most exciting authors about. I was so excited when I learned about Time and Time Again and I am delighted, but not surprised, to have found it marvellous.

Other review
Two Brothers