He'll Remember, With Advantages, What Feats He Did That Day

Now, this is more like it.  We're not out of the introduction before Rohmer tells us, again, about the night in 1978 when he totally got to wear a rear admiral's uniform, complete with the lace handkerchief stuffed up the left sleeve and (join in kids)...

"... the only alteration was to shorten the pant legs slightly."

Serious question to BB:

What's with the title?  Why "The Canada Shipwreck of HMS Raleigh"?  Is there some Canada Council rule that you get more points if the word "Canada" is in the title, even at random?  Because it looks like primitive search engine optimization in 2016.

"The Jennifer Lawrence Shipwreck of the HMS Nipslip"

What are the Master's rules on titles, again?  I'm too lazy to get How to Write a Be$t $eller down from the atti¢.

Which of us is writing the Canada wrap-up for Golden Canada Phoenix?

And he looks straight through when you ask him how the kids are

I've got so much more to say about Caged Eagle, but dare not spoil the Shyamalanian ending for you, Chris.

You're welcome (and now owe me a second beer).

Here's something that won't spoil things. You know how I like to go on about Rohmer recycling his material? Sure you do. I've written about it here, here, and in a dozen or so posts and comments on this very blog. Well, I put it to you that this is the most egregious example thus far:

The people in The Village don't really live in the nineteenth century.

No apologies.

A Zinger Wrapped in an Enigma

"Now back to June 6, D-Day in Normandy, France. As the senior Canadian D-Day Veteran, I accompanied the P.M. to an elaborate luncheon put on by French President Hollande for the Allied Heads of State — including Russia’s Vladimir Putin. As the celebrated heads were filing into their special dining room I edged toward the line. I missed Obama by three steps, but caught the incoming president of the Ukraine who was followed by, yes, Mr. Putin. I am in my full RCAF General’s uniform with medals (permission of the Chief of the Defence Staff). Putin stopped, looked at me, stuck out his hand. I took it and while shaking his I shouted one word at him. CANADA! No response and he was gone."

Putting Putin in His Place
(column by Richard Rohmer, Collington Enterprise Bulletin, November 18, 2014)

"After a time the king of France sent Jacques Cartier to explore the new land.  In 1535 he sailed up the St Lawrence River.  He landed where the city of Quebec now stands and found an Iroquois village called Stadacona. The Indians were friendly. They pointed up the river and said 'Canada', a word whose Indian meaning we do not know."

A Picture History of Canada

Let Rohmer Be Rohmer

So here it is, almost a year later.  This morning I finished Sir John A’s Crusade and Seward’s Magnificent Folly, a book Richard Rohmer wrote nearly forty years after Ultimatum, where our journey began.

Brian’s right.  This is a dull but competent book.  And the period – Confederation – suits Rohmer.  Maybe I’ve just gotten used to the stilted way Rohmer characters speak – a cross between a training film and a gladiator movie – but I also think we’re all conditioned to accept that historical fiction people (you know, in olden times) talked like pedantic, strangely-formal robots. 

“Come in, Napoleon. I have heard much about your recent

misadventures. Do sit down. You must be exhausted from

your 3088-mile round-trip journey from Paris to the gates

of Moscow.”

For some weird reason, it sounds less clunky by candlelight.

But the thing I loved about Sir John A’s Crusade is that it’s set a century before the average Rohmer, but lays out exactly the same way they all do.

A man gets an idea that he should buy something.  (An oil company, a bank, the North Pole.)  He takes it upstairs to the money guys.  (Another oil company, another bank, the German General Staff.) They like it.  So he takes a business trip and makes the offer.   Will they accept it?  And what will the bureaucrats say?

So of course John A. Macdonald tries to buy Alaska.  He was alive when it happened; what else could he have done?  If Richard Rohmer wrote a book about Lewis Carroll, Lewis Carroll would try to buy Alaska.  He had been born, and it was for sale.

And while he was at it, he would have:

- Been briefed at the White House

- Wandered around in the snow

- Worn a snappy uniform

- Praised England

- Insulted Russia

- Thought about the Arctic, and its many untapped resources

- Eaten bread so as not to get drunk on vodka

- Repeated the general premise of the book every 15 pages.  (“I purpose to buy a thing using money.”)

- Taken a woman to a nice dinner at the restaurant in his hotel, and told her a thing or two about how the problem with the Quebecois is they think they’re all that.

Is it wrong to take every story and make it the same?  Don't ask me.  Ask Claude Levi-Strauss. It wasn’t a problem for the Ramones.

Q: Who was Seward, and how did he feel about Manifest Destiny?

“I’m concerned about what those bloody Americans are up to, I must say.  That wretched fellow Seward and his Manifest Destiny thing.” p. 21

“And thereby put the boots to the conniving bastard Seward and his dreams of Manifest Destiny.” p. 33

Such an assault and conquest would be consistent with the ideas of the powerful William Seward, Lincoln’s and then Johnson’s Secretary of State, who made no secret of his belief in the Manifest Destiny of the United States. p.38

The Fenian raids also solidified the intent of Canadians and Maritimers to combine their colonies into one nation loyal to the British Crown, safe from the threat of Seward’s Manifest Destiny. p.39

“And Secretary Seward, the Manifest Destiny man, what news of him?” p. 41

“The lawyer is William H. Seward, President Johnson’s Secretary of State, the Manifest Destiny man.” p. 130

From the moment the President handed Seward that signed and sealed warrant, the ambitious Secretary of State had the authority to turn his dream of Manifest Destiny into exhilarating reality.  p. 182

  

As the pages curled and the words were consumed, forever disappearing in the fire, Seward was well pleased with his own masterful contribution to the Manifest Destiny of the United States of America. – final lines

Q. Tell Me Something I Already Know

“And we both know how he gets… ill with too much drinking.” p.16

“It’s a laborious process, as we all know.” p. 25

“As you know Harry, my Quebec – Canada East, Lower Canada, whatever – is French.” p.25

“Remember my resolution, George? If you’ve forgotten, let me remind you.” p.26

“As you may know, Harry, my dear wife passed away nine years ago.” p. 34

“I must have said this a dozen times today.  I’m really worried about the sale of Russian America to the Yankees.” p. 39

“… as Marine Minister he has special knowledge of the affairs of the Company which, as you know, is in dreadful condition.” p. 51

“As you are aware, Your Majesty, the affairs of the Russian American Company, particularly in regard to control, discipline, and administration at Sitka, became so inadequate that it was necessary to install a naval captain as governor.”  p.54

“You will recall, Your Majesty, that we were able to negotiate a treaty with Britain...” p.55

“I remind you, Your Majesty,” de Stoecki nodded wisely, “that some years ago the Americans proposed the purchase of our colonies to me, as in the past they bought Louisiana from France and Florida from Spain; and lately Texas and California from Mexico.”  p. 59

“All of you are familiar with the terms and obligations of the Paris Peace Treaty of 1856 after our defeat by the British in the Crimea.” p. 60

“As you undoubtedly know, that was the rumor from Sir Frederick Bruce.” p.90

“As I explained to you, the bread will absorb the vodka…” p.94

‘I’m sure that you, sir, with your vast knowledge of what is being said and done in foreign capitals, are aware of Secretary Seward’s belief in Manifest Destiny.” p. 107

Q: What do Russians drink?

Vodka, vodka, vodka, vodka, vodka p.86

Vodka p.87

Vodka p.93

Vodka, vodka, vodka p.94

Vodka, vodka p.98

Vodka, vodka, vodka p.99

Vodka, vodka, vodka p.101

Vodka p.102

Vodka, vodka p.104

Vodka p.106

Vodka p.107

Q. What the Hell?

“Who the hell does Macdonald think he is?” p.8

“For God’s sake, Harry, what are you talking about?” p.29

“What in God’s name can we do?” p.72

“So who’s the source of this great goddamn rumor?” p.72

“Where in hell are we going to find ten million?” p. 75

“Captain, what in hell is going on?” p. 202

“Fisher, what in bloody hell are you doing?” p.202

“Lieutenant, what the hell are you doing with a goddamn pink scarf around your neck?” p. 205

I raced through Sir John A.'s Crusade, but only because the copy I had was an inter-library loan and could not be renewed.

Here are a few things to look out for:

Bullshit
Rohmer imagines at least two characters – Robert Wilmot and George-Étienne Cartier – uttering the word. Fathers of Confederation both, I felt this was in poor taste, doubly so since its use can be traced back no further than 1915 America.

Errors in calculation
Foul-mouthed Cartier pegs Macdonald's age at 52. In fact, he was 51.
     Macdonald describes the year in which all action takes place as the twenty-ninth in Victoria's reign. In fact, it is the thirtieth.

Exclamation marks
I'm certain that there are more here than in any other Rohmer novel.

Kelly
Rohmer likes to position himself as something of a seer.
     "Balls!" you say. "The man couldn't have been more wrong about the Soviet Union."
     "True enough," I reply, "but consider last week's events in Buffalo. One of the dead was found in a car covered by snow."
     As if further evidence was needed that Rohmer is in tune with Geller, I point out that Sir John A.'s Crusade features a villain with the very same surname as one of his future critics.

Resplendent
Reading Richard Rohmer, you begin to recognize common threads. Vodka and how to dull its effects is one example. Not everything is so obvious. It wasn't until Sir John A.'s Crusade that I first noticed "resplendent", a word I don't think I've ever used in my own writing.
     Going back, I see that it was there from the beginning. In Ultimatum we find members of the RCMP "resplendent in their traditional red-coated uniforms". It's used in describing Patton's garb in Patton's Gap. The word appears in Red Arctic and – spoiler – Rohmer's biography of E.P. Taylor. Resplendent is used four times in Generally Speaking. It also appears four times in Sir John A.'s Crusade. Which brings me, finally, to…

Fetishism
You'll not find so shameless a display of perversity as this passage from Sir John A.'s Crusade:

The Right Honorable Henry Wellesley, Earl Cowley, was resplendent in his ambassador's uniform. He wore a black jacket, with a high collar and epaulettes; the gold braid decorating it was enhanced with royal reds and blues. A crimson sash crossed from the right shoulder to the opposite hip; half a dozen medals on multi-coloured ribbons were pinned to the left side of the jacket, over the ambassador's chest. Below them sat thge star of his rank with which his Queen had vested him. His black trousers bore wide gold stripes down the outside seams. Those stripes disappeared into highly polished half-Wellington boots.
     A short ceremonial sword in an elaborately engraved and embossed scabbard hung from a broad gold-decorated belt that encircled Earl Cowley's considerable girth. On his head sat, foursquare, a large black cocked hat covered with more gold braids, its forward point jutting straight out from his wigless wide forehead. Across the hat's crest several white plumes…

There's more, but you get the picture.

Lest you wonder, I don't mention the "busby-capped soldiers of Her Majesty's Grenadier Guard" because "resplendent" is not used.

Yes, I am hurt.

And that's that

Before we move on from Rommel & Patton, I’ve told Brian and Chris in e-mails what bothered me about the book, so I figure I should just blog about them. First, the haphazard structure of the book

drove me crazy. From the title and premise, what you would expect is a book that interweaves fictionalized accounts of the two title characters against the backdrop of post-D-Day Normandy and speculates on a plan to, without Hitler’s knowledge or consent, attempt to negotiate an armistice to save Germany from total defeat when things looked bleakest on the Third Reich’s Western Front.   

You’d also expect character portraits of the two that created some sense of their personalities. Humanizing them, if you will. How this is accomplished is to plod day-by-day through the story, meaning Rommel’s story takes place in the first half of the book; Patton’s the second. The trouble with this is that Rommel gets gravely injured, but the story (and premise for the book) have to play out. This means for the second half of the book, Feldmarschall Hans von Kluge has to take over as the main German character. It undercuts the whole idea of Rommel being considered a main character – and by extension also undercuts any contrasts/parallels you were drawing to Patton. 

The dialogue also sinks it for me.  Once again, people speak in facts. The British cannot say anything without a “jolly good” or “my dear chap” or “chop, chop” thrown in. I’m aware this might be legitimate idiomatic speech; it just feels strained and forced.

I will say this though – Patton’s Gap was written to assign blame to Montgomery and to portray Patton in an heroic light for the incident of the Falaise Gap; Rohmer has not forgotten this, and here that is taken to the extreme. Rohmer’s prejudices are transparent; Montgomery is portrayed as petty and petulant – and unable to get over the fact he wasn’t getting credit for the Allied offensive. Rohmer can’t resist having him whine about it at every opportunity and to describe him that way: As Monty is speaking, his assistant listens like so: “Corby sat listening intently, fascinated as always by Montgomery’s high-pitched, nasally voice with it’s peculiar lisp.”  In the same paragraph he is described as “the scrawny general”. A bit later – in case you didn’t get the message – Monty goes on a rant about how he’s being slighted: “And who’s getting all the kudos for my planning? Bradley and Eisenhower and now Patton. The great and glorious Georgie, racing across France but only because I made it possible. And what do I get? Nothing but criticism. So here is my chance Freddie, my chance to demonstrate to the world that I brought this off, not the bloody Americans.” All we need is him chortling evilly to complete the scene.

By contrast, Patton can do no wrong. During a conversation when Churchill and Roosevelt are ostensibly talking about a possible armistice offer from Hitler – when the fate of the war is at stake – Roosevelt can’t help but turn into a gushing fanboy. He wants Patton to negotiate with Kluge instead of Montgomery – seemingly because he looks so cool: “When Patton presents himself in front of Kluge for the first time, that poor Prussian bastard will be overwhelmed by what he sees.  Patton will have on his best shiny steel helmet, his battle-dress jacket will be flowing with ribbons, he’ll have on his cavalry jodhpurs, riding boots and spurs, and his riding crop will be tucked under his arm. And on each hip will be a beautiful ivory-handled revolver. And Patton’s tall Winston, he’s tall. Kluge won’t be faced by some little sparrow general in a beret and sweater, no sir. If he was here now, I’d give his knee a manly pat.”  Okay, I added that last line. But they are discussing something of vital importance that could end the war and save countless lives and Roosevelt feels it’s appropriate to describe how Patton looks and take a shot at Montgomery?

Why Rommel and Patton?

The two never meet. What's more, due to the eagle eyes of a certain young reconnaissance pilot, Rommel doesn't even appear in the second half of the novel.

Should be Kluge and Patton, right? Better yet: Kluge and Monty.

The least convincing part of the book - even less than the Churchill/Eisenhower dialogue - is Roosevelt's argument that Patton should negotiate with Kluge:

          “But Franklin.” Churchill protested, “he’s caused trouble wherever he’s been. Talks too much, hits soldiers in hospitals.”
          Roosevelt laughed. 

(No one chortles in this novel. To be fair, two chuckle.)

Churchill has a point. Even in a book written by an admirer, Patton comes off as a hotheaded blowhard and asshole. But Roosevelt wins his case because of the general's flamboyant dress: "Patton will have on his best shiny helmet, his battle-dress jacket will be flowing with ribbons, he'll have on his cavalry jodhpurs, riding boots and spurs. An on each hip will be a beautiful ivory-handled revolver.”

Kluge, of course, wears Hugo Boss.

And to think the Nazis lost the war.