“Hellsing”, written and illustrated by Kouta Hirano

 

144–208 pages, Dark Horse Manga, ISBN-13: 978-1593070564 (Volume 1), ISBN-13: 978-1593070571 (Volume 2), ISBN-13: 978-1593072025 (Volume 3), ISBN-13: 978-1593072599 (Volume 4), ISBN-13: 978-1593072728 (Volume 5), ISBN-13: 978-1593073022 (Volume 6), ISBN-13: 978-1593073480 (Volume 7), ISBN-13: 978-1593077808 (Volume 8), ISBN-13: 978-1595821577 (Volume 9), ISBN-13: 978-1595824981 (Volume 10)

Hellsing is a Japanese manga series written and illustrated by Kouta Hirano that chronicles the efforts of the mysterious and secret Hellsing Organization and its top agent Alucard (Alucard? Hmmmmm…there’s something fishy ‘bout that name) as it combats vampires, ghouls and other supernatural foes who threaten Merrie Olde England, and brother, is it a hoot. See, way back when, Abraham Van Helsing founded this thing called the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, which is now run by Integra Fairbrook Wingates Helsing after the untimely death of her father. When her uncle tries to hunt her down and kill her before everyone else knows the old man is dead, she flees to the basement levels of the headquarters where she comes across a desiccated corpse; uncle’s minions catch up with her there and, during the gun fight, Integra is injured and some of her blood lands on the corpse…which forms into the vampire Alucard (Alucard? Alucard. Al-U-Card…), Hellsing’s ancient secret weapon, for he is an undead monster who fights for Hellsing against the other undead of the world. He saves the girl and starts a new era for Hellsing as more adventures follow after this (told ya it was a hoot).

The layout is like it was in Japan, so the book starts with what would (in the West) be the back cover and you read it from the back to front; the comic panels and word bubbles are also laid out right to left on the page, which took a little getting used to but wasn’t too hard to master; strangely, most of the sound effects are still in Japanese, even though the dialogue is all translated into English (it’s easy to imagine what the sound effects refer to – sword slices, guns firing, feet creaking on floorboards, etc. – it’s just a little weird to have Japanese letters all over some frames and not know what they mean). As one reads this series, it becomes evident that characters aren’t really important to Hirano – nor, come to think of it, is logic. All he cares about is the art, which is, it must be said, pretty spectacular in a black-and-white ultraviolent sorta way. These drawings are almost enough to make you forget that you are reading a mish-mash of contrasting genres in which Alucard (?) and the Hellsing Organization fight-off the fifty-years delayed invasion of Britain by a Nazi army of vampires and werewolves AND the Iscariot Organization (also known as Vatican Section XIII), an arm of the Roman Catholic Church (Kouta helps us to distinguish between all of these characters and their loyalties through the use of heavily-accented English).

Back on March 5, 2019, I reviewed the 9-Volume Manga series Arm of Kannon by Masakazu Yamaguchi and said that “if you like your entrails rendered with anatomical specificity, Arm of Kannon might be your cup of tea. Anyone in search of a coherent plot or sympathetic characters, however, is advised to look elsewhere”. I feel as if I should say the same for Hellsing…but I just can’t, as I enjoyed this series so much more than Kannon. Perhaps it’s because, for all of the violence and the bloodshed and the incoherence and whatnot, there’s a certain oh, I don’t know, joie de vivre to the series (if that’s the right way to describe a violent metaphysical Manga series). I can just see Kouta having a blast drawing Nazi werewolves fighting English knights and Catholic agents, logic and plotting and characterization be damned. This series was weird, but fun, damnit, and I almost want to read it all over again just for the hell of it…OH! Alucard! That’s “Dracula” spelled backwards! My, aren’t we clever.

“The Lives of the Kings and Queens of England”, edited by Antonia Fraser

 

384 pages, University of California Press, ISBN-13: 978-0520224605

If you have ever read anything…ANYTHING…by Antonia Fraser, then you know that she is a no-nonsense historian; even something that she hasn’t written but merely edited, like, say, The Lives of the Kings and Queens of England, can drag on you like the encrusted barnacles on the bottom of a ship. But, then again, this work is more of a glossy big picture book of kings and queens and is more of a general reference work for anyone interested in English royal history. The color illustrations are lavish, the brief biographies hit all of the high points and the genealogies of the various royal houses are very useful when trying to trace the convoluted relationships of England’s oh-so-many royals.

With that said, and while I understand that these biographies were intended to be nothing more than thumbnail sketches, there were several in which some important details were lacking, while for some biographies there were almost too many details, as if the authors tried to squeeze so much detail into a few pages that I began to lose the feel of what was going on (the biography of Elizabeth II is particularly disappointing, as the writer throws objectivity right out the window). For all that, this is a rather handy book to have around when you can’t remember which of Henry VIII’s wives died on the block, or when you just can’t figure out how the hell a bunch of Germans ended up on the British throne, or want to know why Queen Victoria died in the arms of Kaiser Bill. Lots of information on all matters royal are to be had, as well, including ancient traditions, heraldry, issues of precedent, the crown jewels, court dress, palaces, pastimes and other fun facts. Altogether, it is more of a book of reference in case you read other books about kings and queens of England.

“Warfare and the Third Reich: The Rise and Fall of Hitler’s Armed Forces (Classic Conflicts)”, edited by Christopher Chant

 

450 pages, Smithmark Publishers, ISBN-13: 978-0831772895

Warfare and the Third Reich: The Rise and Fall of Hitler’s Armed Forces is part of a series called “Classic Conflicts” – of which I have no other volumes. Ah, well. Be warned that this is not your typical faithful reproduction of the war, but rather a collection of interesting facts of the people and events that impacted the war. The story begins in the 1930s with Hitler’s rise to power and the henchmen that helped him achieve it, i.e. Hermann Göring, Joseph Goebbels, Heinrich Himmler, amongst many others. This book is a bit of a heavy history more geared for academic study then edge of your seat page-turner, but as with any book of this size, there are always bound to be interesting bits of information, and Warfare indeed does deliver on that. There are a number of details on army group makeup, command structure and tactics as well as a good review of German Army campaign citations and medals, besides.

As for the battles, there are writings on the air war over Britain, the fight for control of the Atlantic, and the battles for Moscow, Stalingrad, Kursk and many others. German weapons, from pistols to tanks, are also discussed and include the advantages and disadvantages the German soldier faced against his (many) enemies. In the science and technology section there is interesting coverage of the weapons of the future, which was a pleasant surprise as it covers more than just the V1 and V2 missiles, or the Me-262 jet; German scientists were working on other missile technology that might surprise you. If you are interested in warfare and the Third Reich then by all means pick up Warfare and the Third Reich; but only if you are not a newcomer to the field.

“The Columbia History of the World”, edited by John A. Garraty and Peter Gay, forward by William J. McGill

 

1257 pages, Harper & Row Publishers, ISBN-13: 978-0060114329

Dang. The Columbia History of the World has been sitting on my bookshelf since 1987. I got it from the Barnes & Noble over stock pile (just how many times have I said that, anyway?) when I was still a kid and bought damn near any book with “history” in the title, I was hooked so. Be warned, though: this book seems to have been written for college history professors, not the general public, as names, ideas and terms are mentioned with no explanation as to what they are – almost as if one is expected to have a priori knowledge of these matters. That, and the writing is as dry as sandpaper left out in the sun in the Sahara Dessert. But then again, what would you expect? In addition to John A. Garraty (who earned his doctorate and taught history at Columbia) and Peter Gay (originally Peter Joachim Fröhlich and a Sterling Professor of History at Yale University), other authors include Jacques Barzun, Richard Hofstadter and Ernest Nagel. That’s a lotta brain power, but not necessarily a lotta writing talent.

Okay, with all that out of the way, there’s this: Columbia is much more than a mere blow-by-blow recitation of facts, peppered as it is with economic and political science insights, such as: the observation that in ancient Athens, “the rights of private property [were] the only sure foundation of civil liberty [so that’s where the Founding fathers got it!]”; or “[t]he first need of any social system is to create incentives to make people do more work than required by their immediate wants [hear that, Democrats?]”; and also “religion provided the incentive for works of economic supererogation [well…obviously. Yeah]”. If you’re looking for a history full of verve with a gripping narrative, go elsewhere, BUT if its ideas that float your boat, then get yer oars out and start paddling.

“Pontormo Rosso Fiorentino (Library of Great Masters)”, by Elisabetta Marchetti Letta

 

80 pages, Riverside Book Company, ISBN-13: 978-1878351487

I don’t always know why I buy a book: a spur-of-the-moment interest; a desire to expand my horizons past their typical borders; it’s cheap…lottsa reasons, which is all I can say about Pontormo Rosso Fiorentino by Elisabetta Marchetti Letta for the “Library of Great Masters”…’cause it was a spur-of-the-moment interest in a cheap book. First, that confusing as hell title: Pontormo Rosso Fiorentino refers to “Pontormo” – also known as Jacopo Carucci – the Italian Mannerist painter and portraitist from the Florentine School; and “Rosso Fiorentino” – also known as Giovanni Battista di Jacopo and even “Il Rosso”, the Red – another Italian Mannerist painter likewise belonging to the Florentine school; so this is kind of a two-in-one overview of a couple of artists whose style and influence were similar.

Pontormo Rosso Fiorentino traces the lives and works of these two artists, examining the fundamental importance of ideas drawn from sculpture to them, and the place of Donatello as one of their main influences in this regard. And why not? Both were born barely three months apart in Florence in 1494; both were pupils of Andrea del Sarto; and both of their careers often ran parallel to one another, punctuated by matching dates that mark a series of professional achievements. Furthermore, whole swathes of the turbulent history of Florence, in particular, and Italy, as a whole, during the Renaissance is reflected in the biographies of these two (little known) artists, and for that reason alone this book was well worth…whatever I paid for it.

“The Teutonic Knights: A Military History”, by William Urban

 

288 pages, Greenhill Books, ISBN-13: 978-1853675355

The Teutonic Knights – The Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem – Ordo domus Sanctæ Mariæ Theutonicorum Hierosolymitanorum – Orden der Brüder vom Deutschen Haus der Heiligen Maria in Jerusalem – The Teutonic Order – Deutscher Orden, Deutschherrenorden or Deutschritterorden – is a Catholic religious order founded as a military order in 1190 in Acre in the former and long-dead Kingdom of Jerusalem (and it’s still around, too, serving as a charitable organization by established numerous clinics, as well as sponsoring excavation and tourism projects in Israel).

But none of that concerns us here, as William Urban’s book The Teutonic Knights: A Military History is about when the Teutons went about the Middle East and Northern Europe, converting if they could and killing if they must (it must be said that it was the second bit that they were best at). Urban – the Lee L. Morgan Professor of History and International studies at Monmouth College who specializes in the Baltic Crusades and Teutonic Knights – has given us a comprehensive account of the rise and fall of a great military order; most importantly, he has demonstrated convincingly that the Teutonic Knights was a Christian organization, like many others, dedicated to helping the sick and advancing Christianity via the crusade, and not some kind of twisted forerunner of Nazi Germany; indeed, he takes generations of so-called historians and political leaders to task for creating and perpetuating this myth, which does not honestly study the Order’s history but rather foments ethnic hatreds between Germans, Poles, Lithuanians, and Russians. Since this book is a military history of the Teutonic Knights, the author poses this in the Introduction:

Why a book on the military history of the Teutonic Knights? Why not earlier?...One answer is the best historians of the crusades have traditionally concentrated their attentions on the Holy Land; most medieval historians in recent decades have lacked much interest in military affairs; and amateur historians in the English-speaking world are not prepared to handle the many languages involved in studying Baltic and East Central European history....Another good answer, perhaps more fundamental, is that the English-speaking public was generally unaware that there had been crusades in the Baltic, and, moreover, for many years also lost interest in the medieval efforts to recover Jerusalem. No demand, hence no response by authors and publishers.

The Teutonic Knights are often portrayed in a rather negative light, either as an early manifestation of later German attempts to expand into the east, or as a barrier to the conversion of the pagans. Urban paints them in a rather more positive light, at least in the earlier part of their time in Prussia and Livonia, when he believes that their religious motivations were rather more genuine than many other authors. Although the defeat at Tannenberg had surprisingly little direct impact, it did change the nature of the organization, and in the last few decades of its existence as a major power the order became increasingly divided and dependent on mercenaries. Urban has done a good job of relating the military exploits of the order, while at the same time examining the changing nature of their opponents, the development of Poland-Lithuania, the problems caused by the conversion of most of the pagans, the decreasing appeal of the crusade in the rest of Europe and the place of the Teutonic Knights in the wider Catholic Church. This is an excellent study of an important and often misunderstood military order.

“Silver: My Own Tale as Written by Me with a Goodly Amount of Murder”, by Edward Chupack

 

288 pages, St. Martin’s Griffin, ISBN-13: 978-0312539368

“I am Silver, and there is no other pirate like me on these waters…” Yeah, boy, whatta way to start a novel. I never read Treasure Island, but I have seen a bunch of TV adaptations over the years, so that counts for something, right? RIGHT? Right. And so my take on Edward Chupack’s Silver: My Own Tale as Written by Me with a Goodly Amount of Murder (really, how can you not buy this book after reading that title?) may differ from one who has actually read Robert Louis Stevenson’s book. Chupack states, in his “Author’s Note”, that he took Stevenson’s characters – especially some of the minor ones – and changed their aspects and situations, only using Treasure Island as a starting point; thus, Silver is neither a sequel nor a retelling of that book, and I can only approach Chupack’s work as a stand-alone read, but on that basis alone, this novel absolutely is worth its weight in…silver (ho, boy, am I clever).

The “Silver” of the title is, of course, Long John Silver, a murderous, treasure-hungry pirate who describes himself as “the dog that bites the other dogs. What do I fear? I am John Silver, and I am more dog than man and more dog than dog”. When we first meet him, he has been taken prisoner by an unknown person and locked in his quarters on his own ship from where, battling a raging fever, he writes his memoirs and tells the boy who brings him food about his search for a very special treasure. Silver’s memoirs cover his early life on the streets of Bristol, England, his being taken on board the pirate ship by Black John, and his life as a murdering pirate. But most of all, it covers Silver’s search for the treasure and of the lifetime of treachery that goes along with it.

The story itself isn’t a terribly deep one, and it does get rather repetitive at times, while the mystery is not one the reader will want to work too hard to solve on their own. Rather, it is the language that makes this book sing: one could open to any random page and find something wonderful to quote. It’s also the details about the pirating life and the world of the late 17^th Century – from London to Spain and all the way to the Carolinas – that held my attention right down to the final word. The characters are fabulously drawn, from the rat-like Pew to the alcoholic Billy Bones to Edward the dandy to Solomon the Jew. Yeah, Silver may be a murdering, thieving scoundrel, but he’s a charming and intelligent murdering, thieving scoundrel, and I only hope that Chupack will one day follow up this fine work with another.

“Panther Variants 1942–45 (New Vanguard)”, by Hilary Doyle and Tom Jentz, illustrated by Mike Badrocke

 

48 pages, Osprey Publishing, ISBN-13: 978-1855324763

Who doesn’t like tanks, amiright? (alright, hippie, shut up and sit down). If necessity really is the mother of invention, then nothing illustrates this saying like the Panther tank – or, if you like, the Sd.Kfz. 171 for Sonderkraftfahrzeug or “Special Purpose Vehicle”, or even, if you prefer, the Panzerkampfwagen V Panther, ‘til Adolf ordered the removal of the Roman numeral “V” – a German medium tank deployed during World War II on the Eastern and Western Fronts in Europe from about mid-1943 to the end of the war. This is because the Panther was designed to counter the Soviet T-34 tank and replace the Panzer III and Panzer IV, of which the T-34 made mincemeat. All this and more will you learn in Panther Variants 1942–45 by Osprey Publishing, one of my favorite publishers (although their books are neither large, nor cheap). Fair warning, though, for as the title states, these are “Panther Variants”, which refer to tank recovery vehicles, command vehicles, flak vehicles, self-propelled artillery, stand-alone Panther turrets that were part of fortifications and, of course, the wicked-awesome Sd.Kfz. 173 Jagdpanther – that’s “hunting panther” – variant. There is also some discussion of the planned Panther II and planned future versions of the commonly used Panther that would have made use of different versions of turrets; most of the variants examined in the book were never put into production. The book discusses, basically, only the physical characteristics of these vehicles and the development of those characteristics (or the planned characteristics, in the case of the variants that were never produced); there is no discussion of combat performance, crews, or characteristics of these vehicles vis-à-vis those of the allies, etc. (the one and only exception to this is a British army report on the Panther turrets that were part of fixed fortifications, a report that showed how really effective these things were – each one destroyed by the allies in combat destroyed eight allied tanks in return). Well, what do you expect for 48 pages? All-in-all an excellent book for the specialist.

“The European Nobility, 1400-1800 (New Approaches to European History)”, by Jonathan Dewald

 

232 pages, Cambridge University Press, ISBN-13: 978-0521425285

So, if you go to school long enough, you collect a wide-array of books on a bunch of different topics, such as…oh, I don’t know, The European Nobility, 1400-1800. Jonathan Dewald has written a social history – part of the Cambridge Press’ New Approaches to European History line of books – on a group that social historians typically avoid; namely, the nobility of Europe which, while they have gotten a lot of attention in more traditional histories, have been largely ignored in the social realm. To alleviate this overlooked class (if the rich can ever be overlooked; bear with me), Dewald offers an extended interpretative essay, the theme of which is the evolution of the Continental nobility (or aristocracy; he regards the terms as overlapping but distinct in meaning) during the four centuries between the end of the Middle Ages and the arrival of the French Revolution. Principally, he tackles the idea of the decline of the nobility and shows that, rather than come-a-cropper as it were, the nobility weathered the Early Modern period by being resilient and adaptable – though the group was fundamentally changed, it still remained strong.

Thus, although small in absolute numbers, the nobility controlled most of the land and all of the politics on the Continent until well into the 19th Century, and the author maintains that they managed to do this despite wars, revolutions and the coming of modern industry because they were very effective in adapting to the changes around them. Dewald also argues that, from one country and culture to the next, nobles faced similar problems and responded to them in very similar ways. This is the main thrust of the book, as Dewald considers the resiliency of the Nobility in aspects of the make-up of their class, their wealth and economics, their politics, and their involvement in culture. He concludes with a brief analysis of the effects of the French Revolution on the group, and how it contributed to the fundamental change the nobility underwent, from privileged order to ruling class. For all this being intended as a textbook, The European Nobility is readable and interesting. The only problem lies in its repetitiveness; I have no complaints about the book’s organization, but it in some ways contributes to this, and Dewald ends up repeating conclusions he made just pages before. Sometimes the repetition becomes quite tedious, but as a whole, the book remains interesting and readable.

“Devils & Demons: A Treasury of Fiendish Tales Old & New”, edited by Marvin Kaye and Saralee Kaye

 

587 pages, Dorset Press,ISBN-13: 978-0880296625

Alright alright alright, settle down, you: Devils & Demons: A Treasury of Fiendish Tales Old & New as edited by the husband-and-wife team of Marvin and Saralee Kaye is not some sorta Satanic how-to primer, but a compilation of 52 stories by various authors, famous and otherwise, from 1925 up to 1987 (this particular edition from the Dorset Press is from 1991, one of a score or books I picked up from the Barnes & Noble overstock section). And if you (like me) thought that stories ‘bout ghouls and ghosts were only for the tawdry and the lowbrow, well then, brother, check out some of these authors: Isaac Asimov, Charles Pierre Baudelaire, W. Somerset Maugham, Bertrand Russell, Robert Louis Stevenson, William Makepeace Thackeray and H.G. Wells, along with the more usual list of suspects, including Poul Anderson, Algernon Blackwood, Tanith Lee, Sheridan LeFanu, H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and Bram Stoker. Rating an anthology can be, overall, rather difficult, what with a whole slew of stories from different authors, different styles and, especially in this case, different eras. Having read it as a kid and rediscovering it as an adult, I can say without any sense of foreboding that this book was a resounding…meh. None of the stories, I think, are that memorable, and while reading horror written by some of the famous non-horror authors I mention above was interesting, the book also has its fair share of mediocre fair from others I never heard of (and for Marv and Sara to include a couple of their own pieces was rather cheeky, to boot). If you find a copy on the used or remnants pile – like I did – eh, I say go for it, but there’s no need to go hunting this particular tome down.

“Drood: A Novel”, by Dan Simmons

784 pages, Little, Brown and Company, ISBN-13: 978-0316007023

Drood: A Novel by Dan Simmons is his take on the relationship between Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins, authors, compatriots, friends and – according to Simmons – enemies of the first rate. This last bit is a mystery to me, seeing as I have read biographies on both Dickens (Dickens: A Biography by Fred Kaplan, reviewed on May 11, 2012) and Collins (Wilkie Collins: A Life of Sensation by Andrew Lycett, reviewed on April 11, 2019) and, according to both books by different authors, Dickens and Collins got along like a house on fire. But Drood looks at the secret, dark life of Charles Dickens and his relationship with a very creepy individual named Drood, as told through the eyes of Wilkie Collins, the (supposedly) jealous and opiate-addicted competitor of Dickens, with some real problems of his own.

Historical fiction is a genre unto itself and, be it based on real people, true moments in history or pure fiction, the most important aspect of any such story is that of the time period in which the story takes place itself; it must actually be the strongest character and transport the reader back to that place and time, from the cracks in the sidewalk to the wheels on the carriages, and from here the characters develop and their actions and attitudes must not only tell the story but continue the presence of the time period. Simmons succeeds in this respect as he recreates the late-Victorian era in our minds by crafting his story around the creation of Dickens’ last, unfinished novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood; is Drood a real person, or is he a manifestation in the mind of Dickens? Wilkie Collins is our (unreliable) narrator in this interesting tale that rambles on for almost 800 pages.

As first person narrative, Author Simmons fulfills the book’s ultimate premise: a memoir purporting to be written by a 19^th Century sensationalist novelist that reads as if it were, in fact, written by a 19^th Century sensationalist novelist. In that context, not a word is out of place here: the banality, the redundant descriptions, the frustrating (to the reader) inability to conclude a subplot, the resentful appreciation of genius all exist seamlessly in the personality depicted in these 800+ pages. It’s clear that Simmons inhabited Collins’ essence while narrating this story, and it’s this aspect of the book that I found fascinating because it takes great skill to render such a true result.

That said, this is not a book to read for the tightly crafted suspense or because there will be a rewarding arc or even an interesting story at the end; if there were, the purpose for which I suspect this book was written would not have been served. While Drood is alright, it is also deeply flawed. I am not exaggerating in any way when I say that 400-or-so pages of this book could have been cut and it would have been a far greater story. I’m not sure why Simmons felt the need to write this massive tome, but I feel he could really have benefited from a more aggressive editor. As to why he thinks that Collins hated and resented Dickens…maybe that says more about Simmons than it does about Collins.

“The Third Reich: A New History”, by Michael Burleigh

 

965 pages, Hill & Wang, ISBN-13: 978-0809093250

Michael Burleigh is a scholar. This is obvious from his background: PhD in medieval history from Bedford College, London in 1982, posts at New College, Oxford, the London School of Economics and Cardiff University; he has also been Professor of History at Washington and Lee University in Virginia and Kratter Visiting Professor at Stanford University; more recently he gave the three Cardinal Basil Hume Memorial Lectures at Heythrop College, University of London…oh, and he is also a member of the Academic Advisory Board of the Institut für Zeitgeschichte in Munich and a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society. But more than that is his vocabulary, which he puts to good use in The Third Reich: A New History, seeing as it is written in a scholarly (read: turgid) style, with rare words popping up about three times per page (you’ll spend as much time using the dictionary as reading this book; also, who the hell writes an 80-page introduction?). Be aware, too, that Burleigh focuses on the culture, economy and government of Nazi Germany, with a solid emphasis on the Holocaust and the crimes of Nazi Regime and very little time spent on the military aspects of World War II. Nothing wrong with that, just putting it out there.

For all that, Burleigh does not really break all that much new ground – so much for being a “new” history – but A New History is well-organized, well-researched and thorough…the problem is that while Burleigh uses a large quantity of sources, the vast majority of these are secondary and not primary, something I would not expect from a leading light in his field. It is also far too much of a slog to get through the dense prose, as every sentence requires unpacking and, unless one is already pretty familiar with the subject, too much prior knowledge is required (you already know my thoughts on his commodious phraseology). Thus, this is in no way a popular history and virtually screams for a good edit; rather, the whole thing reads like it was meant to impress an academic audience…hell, if I wanted to be really mean (oh, why not), I’d say that his writing style is rather typical of Ivory Tower Types who are trying to impress us all with just how smart he is. I, for one, think that one’s scholarship speaks for itself without trying to impress us with all of the 10¢ words you know.

Thus, for the reader willing to sit with a good, comprehensive dictionary in hand, wading through this book may very well be worth the effort, as the insight gleaned does prove valuable. For those not so inclined, this latest effort at a solid, single volume history of the Third Reich falls short.