Fourth of Winton's novels and in the loosely-connected series. The
Artful Bodger (Commander R. B. Badger, RN) takes over public relations
for the Royal Navy, and gets involved in running a horse in the Derby.
Rather like HMS Zubian, this is really two different books, and
they don't quite fit together. One is Winton's usual comedy of Navy
life, this time looking at the bureaucratic angle; the other is a sort
of proto-Dick-Francis introduction to the world of horse-racing, as
the Bodger is brought up to speed. Only at the end, when thanks to
some leaked information much of the Navy takes an interest in the
Bodger's horse, do the two strands approach each other, and even then
they mesh uneasily.
The Navy side of the book, while worryingly optimistic about the
morals and competence of the press, is quite fun. The Bodger isn't as
exposed to the foibles of his fellow officers and men as in previous
books, which is a shame; the cast of civil servants who replace them
have a nasty habit of blending into each other, which I suppose to
some extent is the point of the exercise, but means that the Bodger
ends up carrying much of this half on his own. The brightest spot is
the school visit.
The other side is Everyman's Guide to Horses: in the guise of lectures
to the Bodger by his mate who's retired from the Navy and become a
trainer, we are told all sorts of things about the business of racing.
This book came out in 1963, when Dick Francis had only written two
novels; it assumes a fascination with the whole affair that never
quite caught me. Yes, it's fun to see the Bodger out of his depth and
using his naval patterns of thought to make sense of the business, but
somehow the connection between this and the Navy is a bit too tenuous
for my taste. It could have been put into practically any humorous
book. The mystery of why the horse performs so erratically is an
interesting one, but a very broad clue ensures that by the end of the
book very few readers will be surprised; this in turn makes the
characters look foolish for not having spotted it before.
Winton has become prone to lists, which doesn't help matters. Do I
really need ten lines of fictional racehorses that make up the
pedigree of the important one? Or of imaginary newspaper tipsters? Or
the various sub-courses on which a race can be run at Newmarket? None
of these things is bad in itself, but at their length and frequency
they feel like padding.
It's not a bad book, and I did enjoy it, but the first three (We
Joined the Navy; We Saw the Sea; Down the Hatch) are a lot
better. Definitely not a good place to start.
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