I don't often encounter historical/military novels that themselves have a strong sense of prior history the way that Sharpe's Eagle has, for the Roman Empire strongly permeates the book, especially in its opening chapters.We open with Sharpe and his rifle company* being drafted into yet another weird little scheme. An ancient Roman bridge crossing the river Tagus, a bridge that has stood strong for hundreds of years, has to go for strategic reasons, and Sharpe's friend and sort-of-commander, Captain Hogan, is the engineer who's going to do it. All fine and dandy. But the mission comes with certain... accompaniments.A right upper class twit of a politically connected jerk has raised a brand new regiment back home and dedicated them to the cause in Spain and Portugal, and they're coming along in all their finery and splendor. The upper class twit thinking that it's more important that his soldiers look well than fight well and all, it's a pretty useless regiment but one that, maybe with some seasoning, might do all right if their Colonel, one Sir Henry Simmerson, doesn't get them killed first. Anyway, they're coming along for the bridge blowing party.But because this is Spain and everything here is a matter of hidalgo honor, so is a fancy Spanish regiment, even shinier and fancier and more useless than the British noobs. "Hell's teeth," one of Sharpe's men observes on the approach of these military fops. "The fairies are on our side."So, the early mission turns out not to be so straightforward after all. And that's before the French show up. Which shouldn't be a problem, as it's obvious to Sharpe it's a classic calvary vs infantry standoff, wherein no one has sufficient advantage to make it worthwhile to attack. Alas, this is not so obvious to the Colonel or his Spanish counterpart, who, in a scene of prolonged hilarity, pretty much provoke the French into massacre. And lose the regimental colors (the physical embodiment of a regiment's honor and pride the way a Roman legion's eagle was back in the day, and what the French still use for this purpose ca the early 1800s, and now the title of this novel makes all the sense in the world, don't it?) into the bargain.That's all prologue. It establishes a new enemy for Sharpe in Colonel Simmerson, who needs a scapegoat for his enormous blunder and finds Sir Arthur Wellesley's favorite gotten-up, up-from-the-ranks officer a perfect candidate as much because Sharpe is a protege of Wellesley's as because Sharpe disobeyed an order in the middle of the debacle that was essentially for him and his men to commit suicide and make the French win all the faster (instead, Sharpe rescued one of Simmerson's colors and captured a French cannon, because Sharpe is awesome). When Wellesley promotes Sharpe to Captain and gives him command of a Battalion of Detachments, consisting of odds-and-ends groups like Sharpe's own fragment of a rifle company, and puts the survivors of Simmerson's regiment in that new Battalion, he's just painted the biggest political bullseye ever on Sharpe's back, and Sharpe is, of course, the last guy who'd ever want to be entangled in any politics at all. Especially the kind that can result in his being yanked out of the Peninsular War and deployed to the West Indies, to likely die of a tropical disease within a year of his arrival!But so there's only one thing Sharpe can do to redeem himself from the results of his badassery: something even more badass, something no one has managed to do in this war: capture a French Eagle.And of course he'll have to do this in one of the Peninsular War's biggest battles.With Simmerson and his underlings (including an odious nephew, who is, of course, fighting with Sharpe over, of course, a beautiful woman) in tow.And even more useless Spaniards mucking things up. Seriously, the Spanish army does not come off well in this novel! When they're not cocking up minor actions being show-offs, they're delaying major actions by oversleeping and letting the French gather up even more forces. And then there's bits like this, describing the aftermath of an ill-planned bout of shooting at some out-of-range Frenchmen: "For a second Sharpe thought the Spanish were cheering their own victory over the innocent grass but suddenly he realised the shouts were not of triumph, but of alarm. They had been scared witless by their own volley, by the thunder of ten thousand muskets, and now they ran for safety. Thousands streamed into the olive trees, throwing away muskets, trampling the fires in their panic, screaming for help, heads up, arms pumping, running from their own noise." I bet Spanish readers hate this book.**But I, I loved it. I'm in serious danger, folks, between this and my re-read of the Aubrey/Maturin books, of making this as much a Summer of Napoleonic War Stories as a Summer of Jest!Though I do sometimes wish Sharpe would stop taking justice into his own hands. Dude has almost as much cold blood on them as hot. Not cool, Richard. Not cool. As it were. Um. Please don't hurt me.*Now a seriously rag-tag bunch of military orphans, whose regiment is back in England and who therefore cannot get new uniforms or boots or gear of any kind, even from the plentiful other fighting recipients of the King's Shilling who are still on the Iberian Peninsula, because no one wants to take on the bureaucratic headaches that would ensue if Sharpe's boys were given kit out of some other regiment's or division's stores.**But, as Cornwell informs us in his traditional historical afterword, that incident really happened.
WARNING: This review claims that historical novels are like porn movies, and I discuss porn throughout. Please avoid this review if porn offends you. Historical novels are a bit like porn for me. I am always faintly ashamed to be a fan, I generally hide my taste for them, but I get off on what they have to offer.There are high-end historical novels, like Aubrey-Maturin (the one series I am proud to be a fan of) or Wolf Hall, that are sort of like Deep Throat and other the classic porn movies -- if you have to admit to your tastes, they are the ones that are easy to claim as your own. Then there are the historical romances, like The Thorn Birds, that are akin to the new era of Jenna Jameson's plastic-porn hi-jinks. And there's the truly bizarre historical fictions, like I Claudius, that feel like titillating fetish porn full of stockings and S&M. It's easy to understand their readership (and viewership) even if they're not to one's own taste.Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe books, therefore, have their porn equivalent: the world of polished, pseudo-amateur, "dirty girl" driven porn. And I shamefacedly declare right now that I am a fan of both.Sharpe's Eagle, my latest foray into the career of Richard Sharpe, is the installment that pushed this comparison into the front of my mind and doomed me to writing this review. I found myself hiding the cover of Sharpe's Eagle, folding the front cover over the back, while in a long Christmas shopping line. For some reason I didn't want anyone to see what I was reading. Maybe it's because I teach literature and I didn't want anyone to see me reading something lacking seriousness, maybe there's still some flirty, teenage boy part of me, the D&D geek from way back, that didn't want some pretty girl to catch me being a geek. I'm really not sure which it was, but whichever it was, I caught myself hiding Sharpe's Eagle and had to force myself to pry the front cover away from the back to display my silly shame to the world. And when I walked out of that store, it struck me that I always do the same thing when it comes to porn. I hide the few movies I own, and I don't really talk to anyone (except my wife and Ruzz) about the bits of porn that I like. And once this idea occurred to me, I was surprised at the textual parallels that sprang up to solidify the concept in my mind. Sharpe's Eagle isn't the best written work. Its prose is occasionally sloppy, and it's inconsistently paced. It is violent, espousing questionable ethics while simultaneously taking its own distinct stance on some pretty important issues. And it is terribly fun to read. I was excited to reach the next battle or the next bit of intrigue, and I found myself instantly looking forward to the next installment. Not in any obsessive or overwhelming or unhealthy way, but fondly and warmly because...well...reading Sharpe is enjoyable, and who doesn't like enjoying themselves? The same goes for my "polished, pseudo-amateur, 'dirty girl' driven porn" preference. It isn't the best filmed work. Its quality is occasionally sloppy, and it's inconsistently paced. It is hyper-sexual, espousing questionable ethics while simultaneously taking its own distinct stance on some pretty important issues (some of it really does, I'm not kidding). And it is terribly fun to watch. I am excited to reach the next scene or the next shift in position, and I find myself looking forward to the next viewing. Not in any obsessive or overwhelming or unhealthy way, but fondly and warmly because...well...watching porn is enjoyable, and who doesn't like enjoying themselves?So there you have it. To me, the adventures of Richard Sharpe are historical novel porn. And whether I should be ashamed of my enjoyment or not, I will continue to read them, and now I will proudly display their covers no matter what line I'm standing in. I think I'll keep my porn movies hidden away, though. I'm not sure I can put those out with the general video population just yet.
What do You think about Sharpe's Eagle (2004)?
So here we are, the very first Cornwell novel and coincidentally the first Sharpe. I came to this series after it had been ostensibly completed and so I'm reading them in chronological order, which differs markedly from publication order. I'm kind of racking my brain trying to think of other series that has such a disparity like that and I'm at a loss. A situation like this is just rife with potential for weird inconsistencies in style and continuity, and they're definitely there but they haven't bothered me yet, resulting in another fun Sharpe. It's too bad it worked out like this, who wouldn't want to see a young Sean Bean in Sharpe's Tiger? Something tells me it just wouldn't work out if made today. Also, does anyone else have a totally different vision of book Sharpe? My brain Sharpe looks way scarier than Bean.We join our hero in 1809. He's still partying hard in the Peninsular War and has been attached with his Rifles to the South Essex regiment led by Sir Henry Simmerson. Because this is a Sharpe novel and he's an officer, Simmerson is predictably a despicable moron douchebag. Unfortunately for him, despicable moron douchebags don't do too well in Cornwell novels and it's up to Sharpe to redeem the regiment's honor after a disastrous mistake on Simmerson's part. I don't think it's a spoiler to say that the way he goes about doing this is by planning to capture one of the legendary French Eagles. The stage is set and the British maneuver to battle with the French army at the Spanish town of Talavera. There's also a couple of scummy officers to deal with as usual. It's certainly an impressive debut novel. Cornwell's style is firmly gelled and in place already. He's hardly florid but he does have great descriptive prose and an easy way of storytelling. Of course some of his shit still irritates me, like the vapid, lame-ass romance. This is not a kneejerk anti-romance reaction, either. Human beings fall in love and it's an unavoidable, huge part of life and can add great weight and depth to fiction. But Cornwell's romantic relationships in Sharpe are just weak, shallow and lack warmth. It doesn't help that the female characters in this series have been by and large a succession of pretty but truly faceless tertiary characters with a half-assed paragraph of background. I don't get it, the women in the Arthur books were wonderfully written. Who could forget Nimue, Morgan or Guinevere? But Cornwell insists on pushing this James Bond shit with Sharpe and it's dumb. (Side note: I love James Bond, but noone could argue it's not hilariously chauvinistic and that stuff should stay in those movies. I haven't read the books, but I've heard they're much the same if not worse.)That rant over with, I loved Cornwell's telling of Sharpe's involvement in Talavera. This was a very big, scary battle and Cornwell devotes a good chunk of the novel to tell its story from beginning to bloody end. I'm not sure if it was intentional but I certainly came away admiring the French soldiers; I don't think any 21st-century mind can truly imagine the bowel-draining terror of marching into such a maelstrom of artillery and musket fire, yet these men did again and again. It's kind of weird, but the French probably come off the best in this book; the British are snooty, corrupt and stupid and the Spanish are utter cowards, even frightening themselves with their own useless musket volley. As with any of these books, you're gonna learn quite a bit about the history and setting and Cornwell makes sure to cite the several books he used for the writing of this novel, so there's even more reading for those who want more.
—Nate
I hadn't read the Sharpe novels before, though I did see the BBC TV series a number of years ago. The books are, unsurprisingly, much better. Cornwell's grasp of Napoleonic warfare is very good, and he is eminently successful in conveying to the reader both the tactics and the culture of Wellington's army. The story rips along and you're always eager to hear more. The weakness if this book, as in later ones, is in the secondary characters, who are two dimensional at best. The villains are utter blackguards. The women mostly seem to exist for Sharpe's benefit. These are not character books by any stretch, and in that sense I thought they came up well short of the natural comparison to O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin novels. However, it's they are definitely a blast to read and I quickly tore through four of them and wanted more.(Side note: This is the original first Sharpe novel. Cornwell later went back and wrote prequels to the originals, and also additional novels interspersed within the timeline of his earlier ones. I'm reading them in publication order.)
—Brendan Hodge
No. 8 in the Richard Sharpe series.[return][return]It s 1809, and the British Army under Wellesley (not yet Lord Wellington) is in Portugal. Lieutenant Sharpe, recovering from a saber wound, has his first encounter with the South Essex Battalion of infantry, newly arrived from England with two aristocratic and totally incompetent officers at their head. Sharpe and Sergeant Harper, as well as the thirty surviving Rifles of the 95th, are attached to the South Essex in what will be a memorable association.[return][return]Sharpe is given the assignment of accompanying engineers and the South Essex (along with a Spanish Battalion) into Spain in order to blow up an important bridge. The mission turns into a disaster as the incompetent Lt. Colonel Simmerson, who is in charge of the South Essex, panics and loses both men and the Regimental and King s Colors, a disgrace. Sharpe saves the day, only to make implacable enemies out of the two aristocrats.[return][return]One thing leads to another, and Sharpe and company fight at the Battle of Talavera where Sharpe wins renown, a French Eagle, and a promotion to Captain. In addition, he has his usual luck with women rotten.[return][return]Standard Cornwell: well- researched, great attention to detail (much of which is from contemporary accounts), unbeatable battle descriptions, and superior writing overall. The Historical Note at the end describes what liberties were taken with history and why. The capturing of the French Eagle is based on a real event; only the names were changed to make an excellent story.[return][return]Not quite so meaty as some others in the series, it's still a great read. Highly recommended.
—Joyce Lagow
