The Winter King.

Oof, looking down recent entries there's far too many Youtube clips. I’m (trying to be) a writer God-dammit, so lets talk about books. Or rather, a book.

I'm nearly finished ploughing through The Winter King, first book of Bernard Cornwell's stab at the King Arthur folklore. A book I only picked up because the BBC's current Merlin series is so hit and miss that it's left me longing. The hole has been filled, this book has me avidly reading at half six in the morning on my way to work, and at that time the best I can usually manage is to listen to fabulous eighties music.

Cornwell's writes historical fiction, and this - despite the limited knowledge retained of the dark ages - is a historical book. The fantasy element is gone, mostly, and what magic there is more resembles tricks as seen by a sceptical narrator. An Arthur that bares any resemblance to this, or any other, of the famous portrayals (no matter how old) of course could never have existed. The brilliance of this book (and hopefully the successors, which I have yet to read) is it makes you believe it could have.

Arthurian Britain, in all of it's savage, dangerous, beguiling nature is opened up for us behind the plot and mythical names. We see a country desperately trying to recover from the Roman withdrawal and the subsequent vacuum; old and new religions and powers are vying for dominance in a place with no firm boundaries of country or nationality. I once saw Bernard Cornwell in conversation with the late George MacDonald Fraser (a public one, I'm not a stalker yet) and Fraser was spot on when he said you want to know about a period, then read Cornwell's book of it. (It's been three years, paraphrasing is a necessity, but he did say it.) He's right too, very right. Sharpe can make you an expert on the Peninsula wars, Uhtred on the Danish invasions, and Derfel on the post Roman turmoil and Saxon wars.

As ever in Cornwell's books we see great and famous events / people from the point of view of an everyman. The Saxon immigrant Derfel has that same feel of Richard Sharpe (a good if coarse man whose position is raised by a gumbo of skill, intelligence and sheer luck) and others. The famous figures are held back, allowing the myriad of others (not to mention the narrator) to establish themselves before being overwhelmed by Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, Galahad and of course Merlin. Only the lesser known such as Nimue and Uther Pendragon loiter in the early chapters (and they themselves rear mightily from the page).

I’ve loved Cornwell’s books, ever since a youthful crush on Sean Bean drew me away from the fantasy books in Heddon library and towards the stories of Richard Sharpe (with Bean smouldering on the green covers). Because they’re exciting, because they feel as close to how it was as you can feasibly get with written fiction, because morality is as blurred as life and because they satisfy a very boyish desire for action, romance and adventure.

I can’t believe I didn’t read it sooner to be honest.