Book Reviews

Many guests at the Spectator’s summer party on Wednesday night expressed their admiration for the magazine’s books section, which is edited by Mark Amory and Clare Asquith. Consistently strong, they said. What a cracking section, said an excited Australian gentleman. It’s a tremendous honour to have such support, and we’re grateful to all our readers. Here is a taste of what they’re going on about: Jonathan Keates, author of Handel: The Man and his Music and Purcell, has reviewed David Starkey’s latest book, Music and Monarchy, which ties in with the forthcoming TV series: ‘Whatever made the Hanoverian and Saxe-Coburg Gotha melomane genetic inheritance disappear so completely during the 20th

Henry Addington, first Viscount Sidmouth, was briefly and, on the whole, ingloriously Prime Minister at the beginning of the nineteenth century and then spent nearly ten years as Home Secretary at a time when Britain seemed as close as it had ever been to violent revolution. In both capacities he displayed an unwavering conservatism which seemed inexcusable to his political opponents and sometimes even caused disquiet among his supporters. He was a relic of the eighteenth century who signally failed to adjust to the realities of the nineteenth: when the Great Reform Bill was passed in 1832 it seemed to him bound to lead within a few years to the

George Packer is a staff writer at The New Yorker and the author of The Assassins Gate: America in Iraq, a book that received several prizes. Packer’s other non-fiction books include, The Village of Waiting and Blood of the Liberals, the latter winning the 2001 Robert F. Kennedy Book Award. He is also the author of two novels, The Half Man and Central Square.  Packer’s latest book, The Unwinding: An Inner History of the New America, is a work of non-fiction that attempts to document the massive political and economic changes that have taken place in the last three decades in the United States.  The narrative follows the successes and

Francis Quarles, An emblem on books ‘The world’s a book, writ by the eternal art Of the great Maker, printed in man’s heart; ‘Tis falsely printed, though divinely penned, And all the erratas will appear at the end.’ I like this witty little poem. The idea is simple – just as books have their printing errors listed on the last page, we’ll have all our sins listed to us at the Last Judgement. As a joke, it says a lot about the way seventeenth-century people thought about human nature. Today, I think, the whole Last Judgement thing is a bit off-putting to most people. No-one likes to be told they’re