James Delingpole

Human cloning remains not only beyond the skill of man but dubious on ethical grounds, and James Delingpole's 2007 attempt to clone the uniquely glorious character of Harry Flashman might be one of the most ill-advised attempts yet made. George MacDonald Fraser's character from the twelve Flashman is the most entertaining adventurer ever put to print, and one can see why Delingpole would want to map such a winning formula across to the Second World War.

Unfortunately, Coward on the Beach is laboured where Flashman was endlessly ingenious. The titular hero 'Dick Coward' – a lame, one-note joke of a moniker – is too normal; he is very much a hero, seeking out danger, whereas one of the many entertaining things about Harry Flashman was that he was always seeking to avoid it, however shamelessly. Even here, it's not that Dick Coward is truly courageous, but that it's not clear why: the idea that his father will pass on his inheritance to whichever of his two sons proves the bravest in the war is a clumsy one that Delingpole cannot sell. The jaunty escapades are at odds with the horrors of total war which Coward is immersed in, and it is jarring when comic or sexual events (both Flashman staples) intrude upon the Normandy war-zone carnage of the story. Other telegraphed attempts at creating a WWII Flashman, whether by hinting at previous adventures in Russia and North Africa, the framing device of 'discovering' grandfather Coward's taped war memoirs, or by the unconvincing Elspeth-like Gina, result only in confusion.

Delingpole's botching of the Flashman formula leaves one hell of a mess, and reminds us of how remarkable George MacDonald Fraser's books were in the first place. Fraser's novels managed to balance rollicking adventure, gorgeous prose, meticulous historical research, excellent characterisation and storytelling, and laced them with moments of pathos and terror and outright hilarity. Delingpole takes the same challenge and falls well short. The first half of his book is almost impossibly dull, but when it reaches the Normandy beach landing itself it picks up somewhat. If nothing else, Delingpole proves himself a capable writer of combat scenes, and Coward on the Beach becomes vaguely redeemable as a Boy's Own-style war caper. This is rather less than what Delingpole was reaching for, but it is enough, perhaps, to spark some passing interest in his follow-up, 2009's Coward at the Bridge. But it's already clear why this series was abandoned after that second book.… (plus d'informations)