Robert Crichton (1) (1925–1993)

A twofer combining Crichton's two books about Ferdinand DeMara, famed in the 1950s for impersonating a priest, a college dean, a naval surgeon, a prison warden, etc., in a series of elaborate and unlikely, though apparently well-documented, deceptions. DeMara is George Costanza (or Donald Trump) incarnate: an inveterate liar and man-infant who, when called out, responds not with contrition but with belligerence and rage, even contempt for those who were foolish enough to have believed him. show more The second volume, about the relationship that developed between subject and author on a series of road trips, is just as interesting as the first, partly because DeMara emerges more clearly as a disturbed person: liar and narcissist, but also alcoholic, manic depressive, deeply self-loathing. Crichton veers between admiration and horror, as will you. These are two of the most interesting, surprising books I've ever read, and great to have in a single volume. show less

A charming but laborious novel, I think Robert Crichton's The Secret of Santa Vittoria attempts but falls short in something that Larry McMurtry's Lonesome Dove, one of my favourite books, would later achieve remarkably. Both are comic epics with a great mass of colourful characters; stories that have, just below their surface, a penalty of violence and death for those characters who err; and the central anima of a great, though unassuming, undertaking that becomes, through the wonderful show more dove-tailing of various character interactions, the deed of their life.

However, where McMurtry's sweeping Western was larger-than-life, Crichton's wartime farce is often cartoonish and whimsical. Where the 900+ pages of Lonesome Dove were almost dreamlike in their swift pace, the 380 pages of The Secret of Santa Vittoria are often plodding. Crichton's characters can be shallow, for all the attention given to them, where McMurtry's come to life in a single line of dialogue. Where Lonesome Dove's violence feels inevitable, Santa Vittoria's feels reckless. Perhaps most importantly, Lonesome Dove's quest to establish a cattle ranch in Montana feels like the greatest triumph of all the world – in Woodrow Call's phrase, a "hell of a vision". In Santa Vittoria, the efforts of the population of a small Italian town to hide their stores of wine from the Nazis seem quixotic and, eventually, anti-climactic.

It is harsh, perhaps, to compare The Secret of Santa Vittoria to McMurtry's masterpiece, for all books should be judged on their own merits, but I found the parallels occurring to me as I read the book, and illuminating when trying to diagnose Santa Vittoria's points of failure. Without the illustrative comparison to Lonesome Dove I mentioned above, one could still say that Santa Vittoria is often slow in its pacing, cartoonish in its characterisation and redundant in its attempts. I couldn't help but think how fortunate the citizens of Santa Vittoria were that the German commander sent to loot their hidden wine is determined, for no apparent reason, to use the mind rather than the muscle (pg. 272). The Italians bamboozle the Germans, which is fine enough for a while, but eventually they are in clear mockery of the German occupiers, which is unfathomable. Even when more hardened German (and SS) troops arrive, there are only a few instances of coercive torture and one contrived execution. By the end, I was staggered that Captain von Prum's Luger hadn't bore a hole in Bombolini's head – or anyone's. There are some clever schemes in this book, but I was never fully on board with the townspeople's ingenuity, because I knew it was only the author's artifice preventing Santa Vittoria from becoming Oradour-sur-Glane.

With this bewilderment always in mind, it was a struggle for me to engage with the stakes in Crichton's book. If you strain, you can dig out some deeper theme about how the wine represents the life of the town, or life in general, which must be protected at all costs against the death and surrender represented by the Germans. But such is the plodding nature of the story, and its artificial, often whimsical, tone, that it can be hard for such a theme to settle. There's no great movement in the prose or the story, and it drags. This novel is one of those that, while good, you feel it should be better than it is. I kept expecting some note to sound which never came. show less

Lengthy at times but strong arc, the author does his best for character development but there are simply too many characters to go deeper. In some ways the true protagonist is the wine (life) and the antagonist is death. As the people of 1943 Santa Vittoria outwit the Germans (and yes, there are cultural stereotypes) to save their lifeblood, the town’s wine, the author makes the point that to survive is everything: we must each determine the one thing that enables our survival; even if show more that thing brings death —to our body, to our ideals, or to our expectations—we survive as an individual, and as individuals we survive as a group. show less

So, historical fiction set in a mining village in Scotland. Maggie, born into a family that has been digging coal for generations, wants more. The first step, she believes, is to find the right husband, and that means going elsewhere. On her sixteenth birthday she sets off for a resort town where she finds and beguiles an empoverished highlander who lives on kelpie soup and seaweed, but he's tall and blond and strong, and he can work. His name is Gillon Cameron.

She exacts a promise from him, show more that he'll come back home with her and take up coal mining until they've saved enough money to move on. Twenty years later, their five boys are now working in the mines along side Gillon.

Gillon is the most intriguing character here. He makes a life for himself, reads books about coal, comes to understand the geology, stumbles across a tiny and unvisited library and begins to read more widely. He gains the respect of the town and the miners, and he acts quickly and courageously to save the life of a young man caught underneath a slab of coal.

Little by little he comes to a place where he understands he has to challenge to mine owners, which puts him in direct opposition to Maggie, who is so focused on saving money that she can't bear the thought of any disruption. This is the heart of the story, and the resolution is not the one you might expect.

This is a first class historical novel, closely observed, excellent detail, but most of all, a story that works in all its parts. show less