Richard Cohen (1) (1947–)

A balanced and entertaining take on the 'how to write' sub-genre (the title, How to Write Like Tolstoy, is irreverent rather than instructive). Richard Cohen's winning strategy is to focus on all the different approaches made by famous (and some not-so-famous) writers to various writing problems, from overarching ones like plot, character and dialogue to small but nevertheless important ones like what your opening line should accomplish. This allows him to not only distil useful advice, but show more provide fascinating insights, asides, examples and anecdotes.

Himself a successful editor and publisher, Cohen of course has his own strong opinions on what not and what not to do, but he is refreshingly laissez-faire, recognising the peculiar and idiosyncratic nature of the craft. Many writing guides can be chastening and dispiriting ('don't do this, don't do that') but Cohen's doesn't make you feel shabby or confined or like writing is the most horrible, stressful activity in the world and only a fool would do it. Even though he is that most suspect of all things – a lecturer in Creative Writing – this is fine teaching: he tells you what, from his experience, he thinks you need to know, while also allowing you your own space. He knows what he's talking about. show less

By The Sword is a charming if somewhat scattered account of dueling and fencing by editor, author, and fencer Richard Cohen. Cohen is a serious competitor: five times UK saber champion, member of the UK Olympic team in 1972, 1976, 1980, and 1984, and World Veteran saber champion in 2004 and 2005 (a competition for fencers over 40). He knows this subject inside and out, though his interests may not align with most readers. A sense of the priorities of the book can be given by the table of show more contents, which devote similar page counts to the history of the sword from ancient Egypt to Waterloo, and post-WW2 professional fencing scandals.

Swordsmanship was once serious business, a primarily military arm for millennia. Even if spears were almost always the primary weapon, swords had style and prestige. As gunpowder dominated the battlefield, swords switched to a social weapon. The 18th century was crazy for duels, and the 19th century only slightly less so. Any serious man knew he might be called upon to defend his honor at the point of a blade, and it's almost easier to find a significant artistic or political figure who did not fight duels than one who did.

As the 19th century wore on, and the pointless bloodshed of duels attracted social opprobrium rather than praise, dueling turned into the sport of fencing. Fencing carries with it much of the romance of serious swordplay, as well as a combination of intellectual skill and physical agility that makes it appealing. Cohen's own 4 Olympics is demonstration enough: I can't think of another sport where a world class career might reasonably stretch over several decades.

Though the image of fencing is one of honor, the actual sport at the highest levels is full of horrific ethical lapses. Fencers have made easy alliance with authoritarians, both Fascist and Communist, though they're hardly unique among athletes in that respect. More seriously, fencing is full of subjective calls about the validity of a hit, and referees are known to favor champions and national allies. There have been cases of altered equipment which allows a fencer to score a hit at will, and complex arrangements of fixed matches to promote one fencer over another. The reality of the sport is a far cry from the ideal of sportsmanship and the honorable self-deniable of calling your own good hit.

Some of the more interesting, if overwritten parts, are around some of the cultures of dueling. There's a lot of standard Japanese weeabooism around the katana and samurai. German menseur fencing, with its purpose of creating facial scars, is a particularly bizarre practice to modern eyes. An aside on Italian dueling notes that of any 100 19th century duelists, 30 were army officers, 26 were journalists, and the remainder every other profession. Journalists tend to get into trouble!

Dueling itself is one of those insanely weird practices. Somehow people became lifelong friends after seriously trying to kill each other. Yet the human wastage was also incredible. Galois, a talented mathematician killed at 20 in a duel, is one of the first talents that comes to mind as murdered by honor, but even a clod had a mother, father, siblings, lovers, friends.

Still, who among us has not wanted to draw steel and settle their issues once and for all? show less

Napoleon fenced. So did Shakespeare, Karl Marx, Grace Kelly, and President Truman, who would cross swords with Bess after school. Lincoln was a canny dueler. Ignatius Loyola challenged a man to a duel for denying Christ's divinity (and won). Less successfull, but no less enthusiastic, was Mussolini, who would tell his wife he was 'off to get spaghetti,' their code to avoid alarming the children.

By the Sword is an epic history of sword fighting-a science, an art and, for many, a religion that show more began at the dawn of civilization in ancient Egypt and has been an obsession for mankind ever since. wlilth wit and insight, Richard Cohen gives us an engrossing alternative history of the world.

Sword fighting was an entertainment in ancient Rome, a sacred rite in mediaval Japan, and throughout the ages a favorite way to settle scores. For centuries, dueling was the scourge of Europe, banned by popes on threat of excommunication, and by kings who then couldn't keep themselves from granting pardons-in the case of Louis XIV, in the thousands. Evidence of this passion is all around us: We shake hands to show that we are not reaching for our sword. A gentleman offers a lady his right arm because his sword was once attached to his left hip. Men button their jackets to the right to give them swifter access to their sword.

In his sweeping narrative, Cohen takes us from the training of gladiators to the tricks of the best Renaissance masters, from the exploits of musketeers to swashbuckling Hollywood by way of the great moments in Olympic fencing. A young George Patton competed in the 1912 Olympics. In 1936, a Jewish champion fenced for Hitler. Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone were ardent swordsmen. We meet their coaches and the man who staged the fight scenes in Star Wars, the Lord of the Rings, and James Bond's Die Another Day.

Richard Cohen has the rare distinction of being both a compeling writer and a champon sabreur. He lets us see swordplay as graceful and brutal, balletic and deadly, technically beautiful and fiercely competitive-the most romantic of martial arts. By the Sword is a virtuoso performance that is sure to beguile history lovers, sports fans, military buffs, and anyone who ever dreamed of crossing with Darth Vader.

Richard Cohen is the former publishing director of Hutchinson and Hodder & Stoughton and the founder of Richard Cohen Books. Five times U.K. national saber champion, he was selected for the British Olympic team in 1972, 1976, 1980, and 1984. He has written for The New York Times and most leading London neewspapers, and has appeared on BBC radio and telelvision. He lives in New York City.

'In this enormously learned but also gripping book, Richard Cohen describes the part sword fighting has played in the history of male society in many lands since the earliest times, and succeeds in conveying the sensations, excitement, and sometimes terror of the contest. His text takes its authority from his achievement as an Olympic fencer.'-John Keegan

'Touche! While scrupulous and informed about its subject, Richard Cohen's book is about more than swordplay. It reads at times like an alternative social history of the West, as it deals with the big themes of chivalry, the need to compete, and that elusive quality tha men call 'honor.''-Sebastian Faulks

'One must not hiccup while sword-swallowing: Indian elephants, alone in the animal kingdom, can be taught to fight with foils-just two apercus from Cohen's quite wonderful book. Like swordplay itself, By the Sword is elgant, accurate, romantic, and full of brio-the definitve study, hugely readable, of man's most deadly art.'-Simon Winchester

Contents

List of illustrations
Prologue
Part 1: From Egypt to Waterloo
Chapter 1 How it all began
Chapter 2 Enter the master
Chapter 3 A wild kind of justice
Chapter 4: France in the age of the musketeers
Part 2: The search for perfection
Chapter 5 The great swordsmakers
Chapter 6 The perfect thrust
Chapter 7 Where the sword is the soul
Part 3: The duel's high noon
Chapter 8 Points of honor
Chapter 9 A pursuit for gentlemen
Chapter 10 Swashbuckling
Chapter 11 On Mount Rushmore
Part 4: Wounded warriors
Chapter 12 Spilled blood
Chapter 13 Scars of glory
Part 5: Great powers
Chapter 14 The fascist sport
Chapter 15 The woman who saluted Hitler
Chapter 16 The champions
Chapter 17 Exodus
Part 6: Faustian pacts
Chapter 18 The burden of gold
Chapter 19 Honor betrayed
Chapter 20 The demon parber
Epilogue: By way of the sword
Notes
Acknowledgments
Index show less

Cohen says, in Chasing the Sun's introduction, that he was inspired to write the book after realizing there is not a comprehensive history of the star that gives our planet life. His goal, then, was to create both an exhaustively researched cultural history of the sun's importance to humanity -- in spiritual and scientific terms -- and a granular exploration of the sun's importance scientifically, from the way it helps create life and how it can also harm us.

The result is an interesting, show more albeit bloated, book. Chasing the Sun is engrossing for the first 250-300 pages. This is clearly a labor of love for Cohen, who spends hundreds of pages discussing everything from the ancient Babylonians and Egyptians, and their associated Sun Gods, and the explosion of astronomical science, from Newton to Einstein, that led us to important and world-altering perspective shifts.

But the book's dual goal also hinders it. While I loved reading about humanity's cultural fascination with the Sun, I was less interested in reading extensive passages about skin cancer, the food chain, and ocean flora. As such, the back end of the book reads like a dry science textbook - even when touching on subjects I'm interested in.

All in all, I appreciate what Cohen attempted here. While it often feels like a mixed bag, there is so much here to learn that I can't help but get giddy at the thought of it. As someone who's always dabbled with astronomy and found the universe exciting, it's hard not to love a book that is so dedicated and focused on our central star. show less