“Daughters of Britannia: The Lives and Times of Diplomatic Wives”, by Katie Hickman

352 pages, William Morrow and Co., ISBN-13: 978-0060188627

“English ambassadresses are usually on the dotty side”, according to Nancy Mitford as quoted by Katie Hickman in the introduction to her account of the not-so-glamorous side of embassy life, but the women depicted in Daughters of Britannia: The Lives and Times of Diplomatic Wives were a hardy lot: many of the stories related in her book brought forth the visions of the proper Englishman dressing for dinner each night in the jungle, attended by an equally resplendent lady by his side (Hickman’s insights are all the more compelling as she grew up in the diplomatic service and displays much affection and admiration for these unsung ladies). The letters and diary excerpts are interesting, sometimes poignant reminders of how isolated and far from home the ladies were. Hickman calls primarily on the journals and letters of some remarkable ladies (whether dotty or not) who followed their husbands to posts, ranging from Constantinople in the 17^th Century to Slovakia in the 20^th. Some, like Emma Hamilton (Naples), Isabel Burton (Brazil and Syria), and Vita Sackville-West (Persia) are well known in their own right; most, like Catherine Macartney and Ella Sykes (posted to the Chinese-Russian border), claimed their places in this history because of their voluminous correspondence.

This, perhaps, explains the book’s peculiar organization, as it is arranged by ambassadorial duties and not by dates or individuals. While interesting in itself, ultimately I found this annoying and difficult to follow: we first meet a lady on page 6 and do not hear of her again until page 200; or it skips between the 17^th and 20^th Centuries and back within a couple of paragraphs. Consequently, I had never had a clear idea of who they were and when their stories were taking place. Also, Hickman – perhaps reflecting her diplomatic upbringing – is almost too discreet in most circumstances, and several of the incidents related in her book beg for clarification; while I didn’t expect a tell-all tabloid style, neither did I expect an almost Victorian reticence. The author clearly had done a great deal of research and took advantage of her own and her mother’s recollections, but was in great need of a good editor.

For all that, Daughters of Britannia makes for an interesting read: many of the wives within were driven to letter-writing by loneliness and hardship, but they managed to convey the thrill and challenge of their exotic surroundings; other wives corresponded about the opulence and romance of their assignments (one, in particular, was greatly impressed by the coronation of Czar Nicholas I). Whatever the circumstances, the roles of Foreign Office wives were, until recently, precisely outlined: calling for the ambassadress to be hostess, helpmate and manager, sometimes cook, gardener, nurse and even den mother to the wives of underlings in the embassy or consulate. The protocols were maintained in spite of revolution, famine, drought and anti-British sentiment (as noted in Mary Fraser’s reports from China in the 19^th Century). Not the least of the burdens was separation from their children, who were often sent off to British boarding schools thousands of miles from their parents. An excellent insight into a rarely recorded and, now, long-lost world.

“Hughes: The Private Diaries, Memos and Letters; The Definitive Biography of the First American Billionaire”, by Richard Hack

444 pages, Phoenix Books, ISBN-13: 978-1597775106

If the name “Richard Hack” seems at all familiar to you, or if you think you’ve heard of his book Hughes: The Private Diaries, Memos and Letters; The Definitive Biography of the First American Billionaire, then it may be because it was released on September 11^th, 2001, and Hack was being interviewed live on the Today show by Matt Lauer when the first plane crashed into the World Trade Center; Lauer consequently had to cut their interview short to report on the ongoing events, but the abrupt ending of their interview, and the early reports of the attack from the Today show, is now forever preserved on the internet, as well as at the National September 11 Memorial and Museum in New York City, shown in a continuous loop.

Well then, with that out of the way… Judging from the interest in this self-described “definitive biography”, Howard Robard Hughes Jr., who died on April 5^th, 1976 at only 70 years old, remains an object of American fascination: Hughes’ downward spiral from wealthy, handsome playboy/pilot/film producer/media star to even wealthier barking-mad recluse has been told in numerous books and television programs, and Hack’s book is, I believe, the latest to tackle this fascinating and maddening person (although I think that the title of this biography is misleading, for while there are scores of memos, there are only snippets of letters and I didn’t see any examples of diary entries). The book’s beginning chapter speaks in detail of Hughes’ last, pathetic days, his dependence on drugs for pain relief and his tight-knit entourage of staff who ministered to his final hours. This structure provides us a clear idea of how the remaining book will evolve without bogging us down with detail as Hughes reaches his final minutes.

This is important, as Hack manages the clever trick of packing his book with detail without ever being ponderous. The tale of Hughes’ life is one of glamour and tawdriness, and Hack exposes us to it all, but in a breezy, conversational style that keeps his subject front and center without ever becoming boring. This is not to say that there are some issues with the writing, especially Hack’s use of ridiculous similes’, such as – oh, I don’t know: “piggybacked like barbary macaques in the jungles of Algeria…”; “banks folding like concertinas…”; “he worked with the intensity that old maids give to picking locks…”; “love was as alien to him as a jelly doughnut to a Slovakian rebel…”; “[Robert] Maheu clung to office like a sheet of Saran wrap on a cold bowl…”; [they might] fight among themselves like alley cats over rotting garbage…”. And so on. Also, Hack has the disorienting habit of getting into Hughes’ head and placing thoughts there, with no evidence to back up that that is what Hughes was, in fact, thinking at the time. I dunno; maybe Hacks is a frustrated wannabe novelist?

Hughes managed to make money on any project he pursued, as well as to fight and win many tax battles and stock ownership issues with government agencies and other millionaires. But the most successful thing he managed to do was to withdraw from society, at which point his long decline into madness was well on its way. Plagued by an overly irrational fear of germs and recoiling against his celebrity persona, he withdrew further and further into living his life in rooms whose windows were totally blacked out and where Hughes could avoid almost all human contact. Incredibly, while in the midst of this withdrawal he still managed to expand his empire. If he went into debt – and he often did as he bought properties – he managed both to avoid his many managers any direction as to how to raise capital and most of the times he still managed to come out a winner and richer than before. A tragic story about a strange, brilliant man, who combined intelligence and creativity and was, as far as anyone can tell, mentally unstable, to boot.

“The Pirate Hunter: The True Story of Captain Kidd”, by Richard Zacks

434 pages, Hachette Books, ISBN-13: 978-0786884513

By the end of Richard Zacks’ The Pirate Hunter: The True Story of Captain Kidd I wanted to throw it across the room and shout at the heavens…NOT because it was a bad book – quite the opposite – but because of the sheer injustice done to William Kidd, the decidedly un-pirate who was hanged as such (and whose body was then left gibbeted over the River Thames at Tilbury Point for three years) – while Robert Culliford, Kidd’s great nemesis who was, in fact, as notorious a pirate whoever went a’pirating, not only got away with it all but disappeared altogether with God-only-knows how much loot (man, is life unfair). All this may come as some surprise to you lot, seeing as Captain Kidd is one of the two most notorious pirates America ever produced (the other being Blackbeard, as you well know, of course).

Captain Kidd was in fact a prominent and well-respected captain and merchant in Colonial New York who sometimes found work as a privateer; that is, a private person that engaged in maritime warfare under a commission of war from the British government in which he was charged with finding and destroying pirates as a going concern. Privateers were, as Zacks points out, were legally contracted to prey on enemy shipping, so it may well be treading a fine-line to paint Kidd as an innocent abroad, but the evidence Zacks presents that Kidd was a Pirate Hunter, not a pirate himself, is highly compelling, particularly after Kidd returns to await trial (interwoven with Kidd’s tale is the Culliford’s story, told as a kind of counterpoint to Kidd).

Zacks’ work is copiously backed by research, documentation and records galore, and is wonderfully enhanced by period details, pirate lore and backroom political intrigue, including such tidbits as the surprisingly democratic structure of most pirate crews, their general distaste of battle (they preferred to frighten and bluff unwary ships into submission), the truth about the legendary lost treasure of Captain Kidd, the virulent anti-Catholicism of England at the time, the built-in English contempt for the Scots, the British competition with and hatred of the French and the inevitable and unenviable fate that the Admiralty reserved for convicted pirates (in a word – YIKES). Apparent throughout is the greed of the power mongers of the Admiralty, the Government in Colonial America and England and the many abuses of the East India Trading Company.

The Pirate Hunter shows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Captain Kidd was not a pirate but rather a privateer who was also a decent man, according to the standards of his times. He became a pirate quite mysteriously, endangering as he did the interests of British East India Company by seizing a merchant ship of a prince of Mogul Empire. True, the ship was carrying a French pass, and France was then at war with England, and so seizing the ship was, therefore, a perfectly legal operation according to the law of the times. But the Indian Moghul it belonged to thought that the British East India Company should be responsible for its loss and so the company had to compensate for it, thereby setting a bad precedent. Captain Kidd was also a Scot who wanted to become an admiral of the British Empire; blinded by his ambition, he could not understand the political current of the times. So his life was forfeit.