Not Oscar, but Thomas. Rory Clements has abandoned his Elizabethan hero, John Shakespeare, brother of the more famous William, in favour of a period a little closer to hand: specifically Britain in the late 1930s.
The first volume, Corpus, of a promised three, is set in the short period between King Edward VIII’s accession to the throne and his abdication. There are moves afoot to prevent the abdication, championed by among others Winston Churchill, but also a much more sinister group who looked kindly upon National Socialism in Germany, and felt rightly that King Edward with his wife beside him, whether Queen or no, was also mightily in favour of Herr Hitler’s regime.
Reading this book brings forcibly to mind the months of crisis that eventually led to The Abdication. Historical facts bleed seamlessly into this fictional narrative which centres on Cambridge and an American history professor, Thomas Wilde and his neighbour Lydia Morris.
At the start of the novel, there is an unexpected death, heroin overdose or something more sinister? Lydia’s friend, Nancy Hereward is found with a syringe by her side, slumped on her bed. To all intents and purposes, this looks like a simple case of one dose too many; but Lydia is not quite sure.
A second more horrifying murder site is found, and this one has links to Nancy through her father, Sir Norman Hereward who is close friends of the victims. A third murder points sickeningly towards involvement with Russia, but maybe all is not what it seems.
Lydia and Thomas, with the connivance of a Times Correspondent, Philip Eaton follow an increasingly dangerous and contorted trajectory of intrigue and conspiracy, while at the same time we are following the tense machinations going on between Edward and his government regarding the possible marriage to Wallis Simpson, twice-divorced American wife of the industrialist Ernest Simpson.
It is hard, possibly, for readers very much younger than me, to recognise a world in which newspaper magnates could be asked by Buckingham Palace and the Government not to report on The Situation. David, Prince of Wales (now Edward VIII) was hugely popular; debonair, handsome and easy-going, the ordinary people loved him; the aristocrats played at his court in Fort Belvedere, aware that he was loose in his morals, flagrantly cuckolding at least two well-born husbands, but that he was good fun and a great host. But the arrival on the scene of the glamorous, stylish but cold schemer, Wallis Simpson changed the climate. Many close friends of the King distanced themselves from the ensuing debacle; courtiers and officials made efforts to curb the excesses but without much success. Meanwhile, Edward, in many ways a weak man, fell completely and unequivocally in love with Wallis Simpson and insisted that he would marry her.
As I said, the historical background blends seamlessly and importantly into this gripping saga.
It is worth remembering that even without The Abdication, we would still have Elizabeth II on the throne, but Britain would have been a very different place, a protectorate island of Germany possibly, or a satellite state of the USSR, like Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. Not a happy thought!
In the second book, Nucleus, war still has not started and we are back with our two friends Thomas and Lydia in another intrigue of devastating consequences, if successful.
Scientists and physicists in laboratories Germany and Cambridge are close to the realisation of creating nuclear fission, and the chain reaction which would, they think, lead on to great energy and possibly an atom bomb. Germany in particular needs to know quite how near Britain is to mastering this force.
The Nazi regime has forced the mass exile of many Jewish physicists and others, most of them have entered laboratories in Cambridge or in Princeton, America. German warmongers need information about the extent and success of their research. So, once more, against an historical background, our story, with Thomas Wilde and Lydia Morris in its meshes, outlines this uncomfortable stand-off with a convoluted plot that involves several different strands.
There are many aspects of this novel that bring to the fore genuine acts of heroism by real people. One strand in the novel follows the path of a little German Jewish boy put on the Kindertransport, he is to be met from the train by Lydia Morris – but he is not there.
The book names many real people involved in the race to save as many Jewish children as possible, an undertaking by the Society of Friends led by the astonishing and brave Bertha Bracey. She deserves a whole book to herself. With The Society of Friends and volunteers she was responsible for soup kitchens which were set up in Germany after the First World War to feed starving children, that effort alone must have saved thousands and then when it became clear, after Kristallnacht, that things in Germany were going to be deathly for the Jews, she persuaded the British Government to allow 10,000 unaccompanied Jewish children into this country. The Society of Friends funded and managed this evacuation just in the nick of time.
The other real person in this book, apart from those in the German high command, is Frank Foley who was an official at the British Passport Office in Berlin. Against all the codes of conduct, he handed out exit visas to many Jewish families trying to leave the country.
Another strand intertwined with the nuclear problem is the possible involvement of the IRA, who were being funded and supplied by Germany and who hoped that as a result of co-operation with the Nazis, would finally succeed in uniting the island of Ireland. But you need a long spoon if you sup with the Devil.
It is all grippingly told, page-turning-un-put-downable stuff. Can hardly wait for volume three, I hope it does not take as long as the one awaited from Hilary Mantel.