Published earlier this year, Operation Biting is another immensely gripping and deeply researched work of narrative history from the renowned journalist, military historian and author of Abyss, Vietnam and Operation Pedestal. We are delighted to have Sir Max Hastings share his favourite books from this year with the readers of our blog.
Robert Harris is a sort of genius, not only for the unflagging readability of his novels, but also for the originality of his choice of themes, and the complete historical conviction he infuses into each one. We have had Cicero, Dreyfus, Cromwell and much more. Now we are given the fantastic tale of British 1914 prime minister sixty-one-year-old Herbert Asquith and his infatuation with twenty-six-year-old socialite Venetia Stanley. Until her marriage in 1915, and even thereafter, there was no military secret he did not confide to her, in letters some of which were written during cabinet meetings. We have known for years what Asquith wrote to Stanley: now this novel fills in the big question mark, unanswered since as outgoing prime minister in 1916 he destroyed her letters to him. It was extraordinary that Asquith got away with it – and some mysteries persist about how far ‘it’ went. I have myself written a book chronicling Europe’s descent into the First World War and thus am intimately familiar with the canvas on which Harris paints. I am knocked out by the assurance of his portrait of a time, a relationship, and the perils to which Britain’s leader exposed himself amid a supreme historic catastrophe. The book is yet another triumph for the author, who makes the rest of us feel like plodders.
Patrick Bishop has become celebrated for his many books on the Second World War, including three notable ones on the aircrew of the RAF. Now he has turned his pen to the story of the August 1944 liberation of Paris, which he makes the hinge of a wider study of the entire French experience in 1944. I have always believed that, if Britain had been occupied by the Nazis, our own people would have behaved not much differently from the way the French did. Society’s ‘haves’ collaborated with the occupiers, to protect their families and property, while resistance – until the end, very much a minority activity – was overwhelmingly the business of ‘have nots’. Bishop, who knows Paris intimately after living there for years, pulls no punches in emphasizing that the story of the city’s liberation from the Germans by its brave citizens was a myth, invented for political purposes by Gen. Charles de Gaulle. To be sure, some people took up arms as the Allied armies approached the capital, but essentially the Germans quit, mercifully without torching one of the greatest cities on earth. This is a thrilling account of a notable episode of the last phase of the war, told with authority as well as a wealth of unpublished anecdotes.
Political scientist Vernon Bogdanor, never less than interesting and provocative in his judgements, here profiles six modern politicians who never achieved the highest offices – some, no office at all – yet had a profound influence on their times. Roy Jenkins was a close friend of mine, who must today be turning in his grave to see the great passions of his career – Europe, social democracy and proportional representation – all eclipsed. Nonetheless, Roy was a profoundly civilized force, and heaven knows we could use some like him today. Aneurin Bevan was the creator of the NHS, though in my view a less lovable human being than Bogdanor represents him – he behaved appallingly to Churchill in the war. Enoch Powell invented modern British racism, promoted Ulster Unionism and bitterly opposed the EU. His influence is undeniable, but I share the view of a contemporary who said, ‘Enoch has one of the finest minds in Britain until he makes it up.’ Keith Joseph inspired Thatcher with his vision of the market state. Tony Benn contrived to be wrong about almost everything yet was regarded as a national treasure by the time of his death. Nigel Farage has been probably Britain’s most influential politician of the twenty-first century, in promoting disastrously unworthy causes of which Brexit was only foremost. Yet Bogdanor is right in highlighting Farage’s astonishing influence. Most of the author’s judgements in this book command respect, if not always agreement.
Hastings ‘Pug’ Ismay is today an almost forgotten figure except by historians of the Second World War. Yet he exercised astonishing influence, as is highlighted by this biography from distinguished modern general John Kiszely. Ismay served as Churchill’s military chief of staff from 1940 to 1945, then filled the same function for India’s last viceroy Earl Mountbatten through the critical months of Partition in 1947, before serving as the first secretary-general of NATO. A career soldier, Ismay became in the 1920s a functionary in the corridors of power blessed with common sense, diplomatic skills and an unflagging good nature. It is hard to overstate his contribution to soothing the prime minister and all those whose feathers Churchill ruffled, his great discretion that ensured no secret was betrayed, and his sheer decency which caused him to end his days, as he had lived them, without enemies. A jolly good book about a jolly good man.
America is today threatened, in the view of serious American pundits whom the rest of us can only endorse, with a fascist leadership posing a direct challenge to the world’s greatest democracy. Rachel Maddow is a New York political journalist who has chosen her scary title advisedly. She tells the tale of the American right’s 1930s dalliance with fascism, its shameless enthusiasm for Hitler and revulsion towards the Jews. She paints vivid word portraits of Louisiana governor Huey Long, Michigan’s Father Charles Coughlin and the unspeakable carmaker Henry Ford, the Elon Musk of his day. This is not a cosy read, but it is a very timely one.
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