In 'Roger the Bold: A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico' by F. S. Brereton, readers are taken on a thrilling journey back to the dramatic events of the Conquest of Mexico. Brereton's descriptive and vivid writing style brings to life the struggles and triumphs of the characters involved in this historical event. The book is rich in historical detail, showcasing Brereton's meticulous research and attention to accuracy in portraying the era. Through his captivating narrative, Brereton sheds light on the complex interactions between the indigenous peoples and the Spanish conquerors, capturing the essence of this pivotal moment in history. Readers will be enthralled by the action-packed scenes and the deeper themes of power, ambition, and cultural clash that permeate the story. F. S. Brereton was a celebrated author known for his historical fiction novels that often centered around military history and adventure. His background in military service provided him with firsthand experiences that he incorporated into his writing, adding a layer of authenticity to his narratives. Brereton's expertise in the subject matter shines through in 'Roger the Bold,' making it a compelling and engrossing read for history enthusiasts and fiction lovers alike. Readers with an interest in historical epics and tales of daring conquests will find 'Roger the Bold' to be a captivating and thought-provoking novel that will transport them to a bygone era of exploration and conquest.
American studies in the scholarly sense are old in Europe. But academic chairs and research institutions were late in developing, as they were in the United States themselves. In most European universities the subject was firmly established only after the Second World War. The University of Oslo in Norway in 1946 founded a full professorship of American literature, the first of its kind in Scandinavia, and in 1948 an American Institute. In the following year the Institute started a series of book publications in cooperation with the University of Pennsylvania. This is the second of two volumes titled Americana Norvegica.
In 'Under the Flag of France: A Tale of Bertrand du Guesclin' by David Ker, readers are transported to the medieval world of chivalry and warfare. The book is written in a descriptive and engaging style, providing a vivid portrayal of the historical events surrounding Bertrand du Guesclin, a renowned knight of the 14th century. Ker's attention to detail and rich language immerse the reader in the tumultuous political and military landscape of medieval France, making it a compelling read for history enthusiasts and lovers of epic tales. The narrative seamlessly weaves together elements of romance, honor, and betrayal, capturing the essence of the era with authenticity and depth. As an accomplished historian and researcher, David Ker brings a wealth of knowledge and expertise to 'Under the Flag of France'. His passion for medieval history is evident in the meticulous research and dedication to accuracy displayed throughout the book. Ker's background in historical scholarship lends credibility to the story, offering readers a unique and informative perspective on the life and exploits of Bertrand du Guesclin. I highly recommend 'Under the Flag of France: A Tale of Bertrand du Guesclin' to anyone interested in immersing themselves in a captivating historical narrative. David Ker's masterful storytelling and expert knowledge of the period make this book a must-read for those seeking a compelling journey into the past.
The tale of Bertrand du Guesclin's life and military service. This fable details several aspects of life from boyhood to adulthood as well as the battles and duties he served throughout his military career. Told in a story-like fable atmosphere, the reader gets easily and fully immersed in the almost mythological life of Bertrand du Guesclin. Sample Passage: Startling words, in truth, to hear from any one's lips; and doubly so from those of a boy of fourteen, with his whole life before him. It was a clear, bright evening in the spring of 1334, and the setting sun was pouring a flood of golden glory over the wooded ridges, and dark moors, and wide green meadows, and quaint little villages of Bretagne, or Brittany, then a semi-independent principality ruled by its own duke, and little foreseeing that, barely two centuries later, it was to be united to France once for all. Over earth and sky brooded a deep, dreamy stillness of perfect repose, broken only by the lowing of cattle from the distant pastures, and the soft, sweet chime of the vesper-bell from the unseen church tower, hidden by the still uncleared wood, through one solitary gap in which were seen the massive grey battlements of Motte-Brun Castle, the residence of the local "seigneur," or lord of the manor. A rabbit sat upright in its burrow to clean its furry face. A squirrel, halfway up the pillar-like stem of a tall tree, paused a moment to look down with its small, bright, restless eye; and a tiny bird, perched on a bough above, broke forth in a blithe carol. But the soothing influence of this universal peace brought no calm to the excited lad who was striding up and down a small open space in the heart of the wood, stamping fiercely ever and anon, and muttering, half aloud, words that seemed less like any connected utterance than like the almost unconscious bursting forth of thoughts too torturing to be controlled. "Is it my blame that I was born thus ill-favoured? Yet mine own father and mother gloom upon me and shrink away from me as from one under ban of holy Church, or taken red-handed in mortal sin. What have I done that mine own kith and kin should deal with me as with a leper?" In calling himself ill-favoured, the poor boy had only spoken the truth; for the features lighted up by the sinking sun, as he turned his face toward it, were hideous enough for one of the demons with which these woods were still peopled by native superstition. His head was unnaturally large, and covered with coarse, black, bristly hair, which, worn long according to the custom of all men of good birth in that age, tossed loosely over his huge round shoulders like a bison's mane. His light-green eyes, small and fierce as those of a snake, looked out from beneath a low, slanting forehead garnished with bushy black eyebrows, which were bent just then in a frown as dark as a thunder-cloud. His nose was so flat that it almost seemed to turn inward, and its wide nostrils gaped like the yawning gargoyles of a cathedral. His large, coarse mouth, the heavy jaw of which was worthy of a bulldog, was filled with strong, sharp teeth, which, as he gnashed them in a burst of rage, sent a sudden flash of white across his swarthy face like lightning in a moonless sky. His figure was quite as strange as his face. Low of stature and clumsily built, his vast and almost unnatural breadth of shoulder and depth of chest gave him the squat, dwarfish form assigned by popular belief to the deformed "Dwergar" (earth-dwarfs) who then figured prominently in the legends of all Western Europe. His length of arm was so great that his hands reached below his knees, while his lower limbs seemed as much too short as his arms were too long. In a word, had a half-grown black bear been set on its hind legs, and arrayed in the rich dress of a fourteenth-century noble, it would have looked just like this strange boy.
