Basil (1852) by Wilkie Collins

Another Victorian novel? Always a good idea. Wilkie Collins was a great friend of Dickens, and an important contributor to the suspense genre. He was a fascinating figure: addicted to laudanum because of a chronic illness, he never married but lived with one woman and her child, and supported a second illegitimate family as well. Despite his pain and illness, he won many friends and worked tirelessly throughout his life.

The Mistress's Daughter by A.M. Homes (2007)

In my last few blog entries, I've discussed books I liked, from mostly to a whole lot. But this one...

The Flashman series by George Macdonald Fraser

The original Harry Paget Flashman was a nasty bully in Tom Brown's Schooldays by Thomas Hughes, who's finally kicked out of the school after getting so drunk he has to be returned to Rugby on a hurdle. The Flashman series by George Macdonald Fraser, some dozen volumes, purports to be a set of memoirs discovered and printed well after Flashy's death (by which time he's achieved mighty respectability and has a long, glowing entry in Who's Who). In these memoirs, Flashman is glad to confirm Hughes's bad opinion; by his own accounting, he's "a scoundrel, a liar, a cheat, a thief, a coward—and oh yes, a toady."

Good thing he's such an entertaining one. One of the few virtues Flashy possesses, along with horsemanship and a gift for languages, is the ability to tell a cracking good story. The entire narrative structure of these books may be summed up as: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire, endlessly repeated. And these can be some pretty hot frying pans:

• The doomed retreat from Kabul
• The Crimean War and the charge of the Light Brigade
• The Cawnpore Massacre
• Queen Ranavalona of Madagascar and her insane court
• The Battle of Little Bighorn
• The Taiping Rebellion
• The Harper's Ferry raid

 Somehow Fraser manages to make such events, often tragic as well as dangerous, seem not out of place in novels that are also rollicking, bawdy fun.

Flashman, partly through chance and partly as comeuppance, has a positive genius for getting involved in hopeless military blunders, or crazy, dangerous political machinations, even though all he wants is an easy life. Plots borrow from such sources as The Prisoner of Zenda and Uncle Tom's Cabin (but don't worry if you haven't read the originals). Because he sees almost everything through the crystal-clear lens of self-preservation, Flashman pierces through all kinds of windy, sentimental follies, offering hilarious observations throughout.

Along the way he gambles, drinks, and wenches with abandon, and when he manages to survive, it's through sheer luck and because he's cheated, lied, and stolen. As much as he thoroughly enjoys and approves of his own vices, he whines like a baby when he becomes a victim himself. Part of the fun here is seeing how often that bigot, that bully, that total dick Flashy gets hung by his own petard. It must be said, though, that however apparent his dickishness is to the reader, most often he manages to fool the well-meaning folks around him, who are completely taken in by his bluff, hearty Englishman shtick.

Amid all the fun, Flashy's character can in fact be unsettling. He is near-sociopathic in his selfishness, remorselessness, and lack of empathy. Some officers of his regiment dislike seeing the men punished, but not he:

Myself, I liked a good flogging, and used to have bets with Bryant, my particular crony, on whether the men would cry out before the tenth stroke, or when he would faint. It was better sport than most, anyway.

These books would be a very guilty pleasure indeed if not for George Macdonald Fraser's skill in point of view. Flashman may be the narrator, but Fraser is the writer, and when most necessary he achieves a very delicately balanced point of view, where Flashy's narrative tilts on him occasionally like a hinged mirror that reveals the back of things. A fine example is in Flashman, the first of these novels, during an exchange with the genuinely brave and patriotic Sergeant Hudson; it's a sign of Hudson's worth that even Flashy recognizes his competence. It's the First Afghan War, things are bleak, Flashman's contribution is desperately needed, and as usual Flashy is malingering to avoid danger, overstating a few welts on his back.

"Sorry, Hudson," says I, rather weak. "I would if I could, you know. But whatever my back looks like, I can't do much just yet. I think there's something broken inside."

He stood looking down at me. "Yes, sir," says he at length, "I think there is." And then he just turned and walked out.

Flashy goes "hot all over" as he realizes what Hudson means, but the emotion doesn't last long, nor change him a whit. He survives—with enormous undeserved credit, even—and that's all that really matters to Flashman.

Flashy can be pretty shocking in his naked selfishness, but in the world of fiction, all is forgiven of those who can tell such scandalous hilarious riveting adventures. I enjoyed every page of this series, and I look forward to reading every page again someday.