This novel, published in 1903, is of some literary and historical significance. It is generally regarded as the first spy novel establishing a template where the writer would produce verisimilitude by undertaking detailed research and setting out out the fruits of his labour in the book. More importantly, the novel was a significant propaganda tool for those in England who saw the rising Germany as a potential invader. The resulting naval arms race between the two countries was one of the causes of the First World War.

Unfortunately, I found the book a bit of a struggle after the first hundred pages. I've never got on very well with books set on the sea - naval jargon seems to just float over my head. The plot is very much dependent on the reader playing close attention to the navigation of the yacht sailed by the two heroes around the channels and sand banks of Friesland. To do so, one has the carefully check the maps provided at the beginning of the book regularly. Unfortunately my edition of the book had terrible reproductions of the maps which made them virtually impossible to follow.

When not at sea, I enjoyed the crisp narration and entertaining dialogue but being unable to properly understand the plot made reading the novel something of a chore. ( )

I didn't finish this, got fed up about half way through. Very plodding, tedious, story about two men in a boat looking for spies.

This book has been called the 'first modern thriller' and is one of the first spy novels that uses masses of verifiable information and real locations, a style later used to great effect by some modern day giants of the thriller genre such as John Buchan, John le Carre and Ian Fleming (though Erskine Childers doesn't have quite as many women, cocktails or gunfights as Fleming).
Anyway ... enough of the "wikipedia" introduction, though there is a reason for it. Wikipedia does mention that this book is one of the early 'Invasion Novels', a term I had not heard of before, a series of books published between 1871 and the time of World War 1 that all had in common England being invaded (often by Germany or a Germany thinly disguised as an 'un-named enemy'). Apparently this literary craze for tales of hypothetical invasions helped to shape politics, national policies and even the public's perceptions! In fact to continue the plagiarising it's also claimed that Winston Churchill credited Riddle of the Sands with the establishment of new naval bases to counter the invasion Erskine Childers wrote about. So you're not just reading a ripping yarn but also a piece of English naval history in the making.
The story is about two friends sailing around the German coast, they discover something mysterious which piques their curiosity and, when they investigate, discover plans for a sea invasion of England. It is as much a story for sailors or people who enjoy reading about sailing (a sort of adult reminder of what it was like to read Swallows and Amazons perhaps), as there is a lot of nautical information, as it is a thriller. Though please do not let this put anyone off, the nautical side is not overwhelming and is so well written that you find yourself wishing to hire a boat and go out yourself to ride the high seas ...
I've read this book a couple of times now and would still happily read it a third, the characters are well drawn and the plot is intriguing (even more so when you consider it could have actually happened). ( )

A good spy and adventure story. Like other generically influential novels, it sometimes seems a litttle stale in the places where its influence has been greatest. An example: the protagonist, Carruthers--mid level bureaucrat in the civil service, an everyman who finds himself almost by chance fighting a war in a 'looking glass world' (to borrow Le Carre). His initiation stands in for our own, and this device is especially useful because so much of the plot hinges on seamanship--Carruthers mediates the superabundance of nautical information, sometimes mercifully paring it down to more manageable proportions.

Even so, I found the level of technical detail and jargon a major barrier to enjoyment, though it does lend verisimilitude to the plot. The Oxford World's Classics edition has helpful explanatory notes and a glossary, as well as the 2 maps and 2 charts from the original (though the reproductions of the maps are such that some detail is difficult to discern). That said, I was often confused, bored, or both. Here's an example of a crucial passage that's actually comparatively clear:

"As we reached the davits there was a report like a pistol-shot from the port-side--the tow rope parting, I believe, as the lighter with her shallower draught swung on past the tug. Fresh tumult arose, in which I heard: 'Lower the boat,' from Grimm; but the order was already executed. My ally the Passenger and I had each cast off a tackle, and slacked away with a run; that done, I promptly clutched the wire guy to steady myself, and tumbled in. (It was not far to tumble, for the tug listed heavily to starboard; think of our course,and the set of the ebb stream, and you will see why.) The forward fall unhooked sweetly; but the after one lost play. 'Slack away,' I called, peremptorily, and felt for my knife. My helper above obeyed; the hook yielded; I filliped the loose tackle, and the boat floated away" (251-52).

I simply lacked the patience or willingness to work slowly with my reference sources through such passages. (I have the same problem with Patrick O'Brian novels.) If you can get through the above passage, then I think you'd really enjoy this work. If you can't, it's still worth giving it a try. ( )

First, a word on the edition. Pengin, 1950s green and white cover and a design classic. Why Penguin ever decided to stop doing their book covers like this is a mystery worthy of a green and white (‘mystery and crime’) cover itself. Recently, Penguin have returned to this format but, for the longest time, their covers were adorned by details from forgettable paintings, usually dour virgins in bonnets looking constipated. This edition I picked up second hand for a couple of quid and, to be frank, it is falling apart but it has obviously served time riding in the jacket pocket of chaps and blokes who have, at various times, waited in train stations, outside the headmaster’s office, outside the maternity ward and sat on beaches and in pubs, in foreign bars and lonely hotel rooms. If I were in a tight spot, this is the book I would choose to have with me.

It’s a story about chaps. And boats. And rotters. And mud, lots of mud. By Christ there’s a lot of mud. Riddle of the mud would be closer to the truth, but finishing it I wanted to jump in a small boat and lose myself in a big sea.

Originally published over 100 years ago, it’s a story that has certain aspects absolutely fixed in the Victorian age, and others that are as fresh as rockpool whelk. The opening is a splendid description of a chap left behind in London when all of his friends have gone on holiday, it’s sort of a ’28 days later’ for the upper classes; London is inhabited only by chaps like our hero, held behind on business, and the servants who cater for their every whim. Hellish. During August, one understands, one is expected to be busy depopulating grouse moors rather than attending to the business of Government.

All this changes with the arrival of a telegram summoning our chap abroad. I won’t rehash the plot but it involves sailing, the discovery of a fiendish plot, and the thwarting of same. There’s even a love interest.

The love interest I really, really enjoyed. While today it is quite the done thing to post compromising images of one’s lady friends on the internet, back then chaps did not talk about their feelings, even with their wives. Such ‘artistic’ behaviour was the preserve of beastly types and foreigners. The chaps in the novel smoke cigars but, I swear to God, every time one or the other mentions the object of affection, the effect of the prose is to convey that the other bites down on his pipe stem hard enough to bite off a chunk. And he’s not even smoking a pipe!

Other aspects of the novel are bang up to date. Truth is, man’s elemental struggle with the sea hasn’t changed much over the millennia. At the end of the day, all the gizmo’s in the world will not help you when the seas are mountainous, the wind and unforgiving shriek and dry land is a long, long way off. While the talented sailor of our two chaps never really admits to it, one senses that during the passage where he is in a bit of tight spot, his reaction would probably not be to blub into his diary cam; no, instead he swears revenge on the rotter who nearly led him to his doom.

The great thing about the book is that you ostensibly have a couple of talented amateurs who crack a vile plot. However, throughout the novel I could not help but think that there was more to them than was revealed. Would you really just telegram a chum you had not seen in years to come on a sailing holiday with you? The sailing chap of the novel seems very, very well equipped, intellectually and morally. One cannot but feel that he is secret service, exploiting his foreign office chum.

Such suspicions are left unanswered. What is apparent is that this is a novel that strongly conveys a sense of place; from the almost Woosterish atmosphere of the opening pages to the bleak mud (sorry, sand) flats of the German coast. All this and skulduggery too! ( )