The Ship

Short but enjoyable, masterfully written, entirely character driven description of a brief encounter between the English convoy guard the light cruiser Artemis, and the Italian Navy, in the deciding battle of the fight for Malta in 1943.

Each short chapter is headed by a sentence from the captain's report of the incident e.g. 'the enemy was sighted' followed by a description of the persons involved, what they did and how they felt about it. From the Paymaster contemplating if it is safe to send lunch out, to the lookout at the masthead savoring the pickled onions, and including the captain's secretary musing on the women he left behind without missing any signal flags, every detail is lovingly recorded.

This unusual narrative style show more means that the plot doesn't proceed with any pace at all. I suspect in a longer book it would rapidly lose its allure. But in a short work of this nature it functions very well. The duties and responsibilities of every link in the chain are highlighted; the importance of a basic 'hostilities only' seaman doing his menial job well is clearly just as vital as the captain issuing the correct orders. And although mentioned in passing rather than in detail we look at the estimated '40 million' people (somewhat high I feel) involved in mining the ore, refining the steel, casting the shell, packing the explosive, and then in detail, lifting the shell from the magazine, through the loaders, sighters, spotters and finally the Gunnery officer responsible for crying 'shoot' as a shell is launched that turns the battle, saving the convoy, resupplying Malta, which causes Hitler to divert arms from Russia, leading to his eventual capitulation. This is a mighty consequence of Seaman Triggs remembering to take a fuse out of a tin.

The only real drawback is the continual use of Navy ranks without any explanation of where they stand in relation to each other. Is an Able Seaman above or below a Leading Seaman? It also highlights the surprising lack of technology in even the latest of the WWII ships. Order conveyed by flags, the reliance on manual sighting, spotting and range finding, the quivering of needles and dials, although I'm sure more reliable technologies were known by then.

A surprisingly un-harrowing account of the superiority of the British Navy, envy of the world.

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I really appreciated the way Forester told this story of a light frigate on convoy duty in the Mediterranean during WW2. Many of the chapters were told from the point of view of a different perspective, ranging from the captain to ordinary seamen, engineers to gunners to lookouts.

A compelling narrative of one engagement at war, in one ship, where one shell turns the destiny of the war. Forester (as Monserrat in the Cruel Sea) writes about the terrible human cost and extraordinary (or very ordinary) heroism of keeping the supply lines open against heavy odds. The book depicts the machinery (human and mechanical) of war in loving, but dispassionate detail, allowing us to know the individual characters in passing as they perish or survive. It ends with a real sense of hope and optimism for the war and the future...

The clarity of the prose remains, and the eye of Forester, his skill at finding exactly the right point of View character for describing an historic moment, is perfect for this story, a fictionalization of an encounter between the Royal Navy and the royal Italian Navy in the Second Battle of Syrte. It really clothes the bare bones of any mechanical account.

Interesting in-depth read about the Mediterranean action of the British light cruiser ‘Artemis’. Good war fiction yarn. Tries to explain the lives of the people in the action on the British ship and weave them into the battle. Mostly works.

Competent realistic account of a British cruiser fighting Italian warships in the Mediterranean in World War II. Overall, it is all rigt, but I find it very sad because one of the sailors is a gifted but unpublished poet and he is killed and his poems lost.

Simply one of the most gripping reads I've had recently. We forget (I think) what a great writer Forester was because his writing is so natural and "artless". A bit like the movies of John Ford: "I make westerns....."