Ye Gods!: Travels in Greece (Jill Dudley)

--The blurb--
"Ye Gods! is a light and humorous read and is about Jill Dudley's travels around Greece, touching on the myths and legends of the old gods and how the early Greek Orthodox Church emerged from its pagan past. It is also her own and sometimes comical search for enlightenment. Jill is accompanied by her husband Harry whose reluctance to travel and probe the unknown is the perfect foil for her enthusiastic explorations. The book could as easily be called 'The travels and trials of Harry'. It is ideal for anyone interested in Greece who would like to learn about its myths and legends whilst being entertained. It is a very good read and has a Glossary at the end of the gods and heroes mentioned in the book. The ten chapters take the reader from Athens, up Mount Olympus, to Mt. Athos (the Holy Mountain), to the islands and ends in Greek Cyprus."

--The review--
This history-cum-travelogue immediately appeals to the popular market with its Horrible-Histories style cover and titles (a trend which, I notice, is continued in her other books) and is broken up into relatively digestible chapters (which are broken down further into even smaller chunks) that are organised by location. Dudley effectively combines history and travel writing with anecdotes, which go a long way to lightening the book and lending it its overall appeal. Her aim in her travels to Greece seem to be a mixture of personal spiritual quest and of historical understanding, though this is never quite clearly defined.

On the whole, Dudley does write well, bringing the various religious sites to life in her writing with ease (although this does make her false modesty in terms of her writing abilities seem rather annoying and unfounded). However, while her abilities in speaking modern Greek serve to make the book even more interesting and unusual, it is perhaps a shame that this is not translated to her abilities in other languages (accent going the wrong way on 'voilà', for instance, and 'incapsulated' making an appearance instead of 'encapsulated') - because, let's face it: editors, unless they are extremely bad ones, do not tend to put mistakes INto the writing of others.

However, there are quite a few pitfalls. Dudley's age does show; she was almost 70 when this one was released, and some of her patronising attitudes and views seem alien to people of my generation, such as her complete inability to understand why a career in a hotel might possibly be fulfilling for some people, and her habit of asking local people about antiquated traditions as if they still took place today (the equivalent of my going up to French people and asking if they still dunk their croissants in a bowl of hot chocolate every morning at breakfast while wearing a beret and a striped shirt - which I have never seen anybody do) and then being surprised to get blank looks. In addition, we have her completely baffling assessment that all Greek men are utterly charming (how funny - my fiancé and I have always found them to be utterly odious. And nope, we don't think it has anything to do with how well you can speak Modern Greek).

Another slightly puzzling aspect of this series of adventures is the accompaniment of Dudley's husband Harry, who seems quite categorically to not want to be there. So why keep dragging him along? (This, though, may also relate to age: to a man of this generation, the thought of being left alone in England to cook and clean for himself for a few weeks may be enough to make him drop dead on the spot.) This multitude of factors means that, as a result, the beautiful locations and rituals that Dudley describes are increasingly sullied by her own infuriating personality and the dampening presence of her unwilling husband.

And yet, despite all of this, I still feel compelled to follow Dudley's extra adventures in her other works - particularly in Holy Smoke!, which I hope will be a follow-up to her expressed desire to explore other religions, such as Islam. In short, these readable volumes are certainly to be recommended - if, that is, you don't feel like throwing Dudley overboard from the proverbial cruise ship (for that is where you would be quite likely to meet someone like her) by the time you close the book.

Other works by Jill Dudley
Ye Gods! II: More Travels in Greece (2006)
Holy Smoke! Travels Through Turkey and Egypt (2007)

The Story of God (Robert Winston)

--The blurb--
"From a leading voice in the debate on genetic engineering comes a look at the contemporary relationship of science and religion. It begins with the primitive worship of our early ancestors, and concludes with a vivid portrait of faith in the modern world."

--The review--
Sir Robert Winston is, one could say, the biggest scientific household name in Britain today, alongside his potential arch nemesis, Richard Dawkins. This existing status of popularity should have made it easy to reach out to the people of Britain via mainstream writing, and to a degree, this ambitious interdisciplinary project is a successful one, binding together sociology, history, religion, science and psychology in one concise volume. Winston also does not set out to deliberately rebuff his famous colleague's ideas on religion, although he does address these once, and in a respectful manner.

The chapters are set out in roughly chronological order (though Lord Winston does jump around a bit in places where it's appropriate) and are further broken down into readably-sized chunks, with subtitles to further focus ideas. This is good in itself, but its effectiveness is lamentably reduced by a simple issue of formatting: by not including the chapter names and the name of the individual section that you're reading at the time at the top of each page, it can be all too easy to lose the thread of thought. This is a shame given how easily fixable it is.

The scope of The Story of God is of epic proportions and the amount of research and thought that has clearly gone into it should not be underestimated. However, there are a few weaknesses, mostly relating to various nuances of Christianity, though whether this springs from Winston's own Jewish faith, or from gaps in his research, or from missing leaps of logic, or something else, is unclear. Firstly, at some stage Winston describes Christianity as a religion where personal goodness is key. While this is correct to an extent, it is not a wholly appropriate moniker for a belief system where faith rather than works is touted as the entry card into Paradise (i.e. that it doesn't matter how good you are; only belief that Jesus is Lord etc will get you in! see Ephesians 2:8,9). However, this is a complex issue, and Winston perhaps could have explored the nuances of this further, by referring to the Bible passages that are often used in this debate (Romans 3:28, 5:1, Galatians 3:24, James 2:24, as well as the Ephesians passage mentioned before).

The second issue regarding Christianity as pointed out by Lord Winston is equally complex. He refers to the church and the state being separate when talking of the United States, when this is clearly untrue. While the author does briefly address the fact of the Pledge of Allegiance being recited in American schools, the point is missed on two levels: one is that the Pledge does mention God, which would not be permitted in a truly secular schooling system, and the other is that Lord Winston compares this to the recitation of the Lord's prayer in Christian schools in the UK, which I'm not even sure to be the case any longer. In any case, even if in British Christian schools the Lord's prayer is still recited, this certainly does not apply in all British state schools, as it does for the Pledge of Allegiance, which is recited mandatorially in all American public schools. The US is certainly far from being secular and is arguably a religious state in all but name (what are the odds of a citizen subscribing to any other faith apart from Christianity, or a citizen proclaiming themselves to be atheist, ascending to the American presidency?).*

However, to be fair to Lord Winston, these are fairly detailed and complex Christian battlegrounds and are perhaps more suited to another book, especially given that The Story of God is already fairly Judeo-Christian centric, dealing mainly with Islam, Christianity and Judaism. Other religions are mentioned (from the Aztecs and Ancient Greeks, to Hinduism, Buddhism and Sikhism, through to cults and splinter religions such as Wicca and Reverend Moon's Unification Church), but only on a cursory level. While initially this seems unjust, it is in fact a relevant proportion given the relative numbers of people devoted to the vast number of religious beliefs existing in today's world. Terrorism is also dealt with maturely and commonly held misconceptions are settled.

Other issues that are not addressed are interpretation, story vs truth (at times Winston does not back up some of what the Bible talks about with any historicity), and the power of rhetoric (which at times is surely crucial to a religion's momentum and success). Nevertheless, despite these possible shortcomings, what is produced is impressive in its scope, with Winston remaining intelligent and accessible in his writing without being patronising. Anyone who has only ever seen this famous polymath express his ideas on television should be urged towards his books; if they are all like this one, they are rewarding and educational reads that leave readers wanting to know even more.

(*This document is a fairly interesting one for those wanting to know more about religion in American public schools.)

Other works by Robert Winston
Human Instinct (2003)
The Human Mind (2004)
What Makes Me Me (2005)^
Human (2005)^
Body (2005)^
A Child Against All Odds (2006)
It's Elementary (2007)^
Evolution Revolution (2009)^
Bad Ideas: A History of Our Inventions (2010)

^for children

En Passant (Raymond Queneau)

--The blurb--
"Irène and Etienne no longer love each other; neither do Sabine and Joachim. These couples are going with the last metro, and passers-by pass, while beggars remain. A loving and enigmatic chorusing song which nothing can stop from lasting infinitely, just like Queneau's famous Exercises in Style."
from www.amazon.fr; translation mine

--The review--
The idea of "the last train" seems to be a common theme in French media, with the most famous example perhaps occurring in François Truffaut's film set in the Second World War, Le Dernier Métro, where the title refers to one prong of persecution of the Jews (who had to make sure they did not miss the last train home in order to escape punishment for still being out after the Nazi curfew). Raymond Queneau's En Passant is, like this film, still a love story, but the concept of "the last train" and the way it features in this play is arguably far less sinister.

It is the buzzer at the station that brings the play's characters back to reality, reminding them that their interactions with their fellow travellers are but fleeting moments, whose transience is destined to give way to their usual day-to-day statuses. The play is short and impactful, and kept minimalist due to the composite set and the small circle of characters. Written and published in 1944, it precedes Pinter by over ten years, and yet the resemblance between the two playwrights' work is striking (though this is, in fact, Queneau's only play), with much value being found in simplicity and in the power of silence. This simplicity also provokes surprise as to why this piece of work by Queneau has never been translated into English, despite the fact that it is as progressive as his most famous piece of work, Exercices de style (Exercises in style).

After playing out the short, dramatic and effective story with Irène and Etienne, and the male passer-by, Queneau then experimentally turns the formula on its head, repeating the same story with a little variation in dialogue, but this time featuring Sabine and Joachim, and a female passer-by, in the starring roles. Perhaps the benefit of this inversion and repetition is more apparent when the play is seen on the stage, but on the page it lacked impact due to its exact duplication of the plot.

Nevertheless, this play is a hidden gem within Queneau's diverse catalogue of work. The relationships within it are well-built, and concisely and tersely played out, without any loss of feeling despite the perhaps anodyne setting. And, if you like trains, you could always try his second-most-well-known work, Zazie In The Metro.

Other works by Raymond Queneau (translated works only)
The Bark-Tree (1933)
The Last Days (1936)
Children of Clay (1938)
Pierrot (1942)
The Skin of Dreams (1944)
We Always Treat Women Too Well (1947)
A Hard Winter (1948)
The Sunday of Life (1952)
Zazie in the Metro (1959)
The Blue Flowers (1965)
The Flight of Icarus (1968)

Bookish Bits & Bobs: Judging A Book By Its Cover

It will have perhaps become apparent from this weblog that I do not like many things that others find acceptable (through ignorance, apathy, or other reasons), such as ghostwriting, or the notion of changing authors' works after they have died in order to modernise them.

Today, though, I will be contemplating another form of modernisation, and one that I'm not sure which school of thought I fall into regarding it: that of the modernisation of book covers. The saying goes that we should never judge a book by its cover (which metaphorically can also transfer to the advice that we shouldn't judge people before we get to know them), but the fact of the matter is that people do judge real books by their covers, and that this can make or break a book's sales.

I cannot pretend that I know very much about publishing or marketing, but one thing that is clear to the average Joe is this: books today are only very rarely sold with a monotone cover, bearing only the name of the author and its title (and possibly its publisher). There is a reason for this: many average book-buyers (or at least the ones that the industry is trying to attract) have short attention spans and are drawn in by bright colours and modern illustrations. They are unlikely to be attracted to a book that looks too traditional, boring or plain, and consider "the classics" in particular to be boring, irrelevant or too hard. Books that are published in such a format today seem to be titles that are already of elevated status, such as the titles in Penguin's Popular Classics, which are bright lime green with white lettering, and which bear the names of such luminaries as Wilkie Collins and F Scott Fitzgerald.

The idea that classic novels, such as those by Charles Dickens, transcend the trend of every modern book cover having to have an eye-catching picture or font (because they will sell anyway) is slightly fallacious, though: despite the above example of the Penguin Popular Classics, the publishing industry will always be trying to boost sales of classics (as well as of books in general), so it does not necessarily follow that classic authors should be immune to this treatment. Stella Gibbons (I'm thinking particularly of her novel Nightingale Wood, which has been updated by way of illustrations by Sophie Dahl) and Jane Austen have both had their books' covers updated in the past few years; in fact, the updated Jane Austen covers more resemble a Sophie Kinsella novel than a classic body of work that is by now nearly two hundred years old in its entirety.

This is, though, by no means the first time that publishers have tried to update or alter book covers in a desperate bid for more sales. It is quite common for the cover of a book to change between its hardback and paperback publications; the trick of republishing a book once it has been made into a film, only to have the cover bearing the stars of the movie in question, is by no means unheard of; and perhaps most famously, the Harry Potter series by JK Rowling was reissued with different covers for adults because there was a sufficient market for adults who wanted to read the series but who were too embarrassed to be seen with a children's book.

But perhaps the most important question is: does it work? Have publishers caught on to a successful tactic, or are their attempts to boost sales in this way in vain? A quick peruse of the WHSmith and Waterstone's bestseller charts this week shows that all of the books, without exception, have big bold letters, bright colours, and modern illustrations. Maybe the publishers are onto something here; maybe, tapping into human nature, we find that everyone does judge the book by its cover after all.

update January 2010

# of books read in January: 5
Cumulative total: 5

1. The Blessing (Nancy Mitford)
2. The Plato Papers (Peter Ackroyd)
3. The Hours (Michael Cunningham)
4. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows)
5. Love in a Cold Climate (Nancy Mitford)

Average number of books per month: 5
% by male authors: 40%
% by female authors: 60%

Love in a Cold Climate (Nancy Mitford)

--The blurb--
"Set in the privileged world of the county house party and the London season, this is a comedy of English upperclass manners between the wars."

--The review--
My two major literary discoveries of 2009 were Stella Gibbons and Wilkie Collins, and (as you may have been able to tell from my previous Nancy Mitford review this month) I can equally see the works of Nancy Mitford becoming a permanent fixture on my bookshelf. While Love in a Cold Climate took much longer to pick up speed than The Blessing (for without the expatriate element, which still holds some relevance today, it is in many ways just another tale of aristocratic exploits), it thankfully ends on the same scintillating note.

Despite the fact that Love in a Cold Climate is a loose sequel to The Pursuit of Love, and a similarly linked prequel to Don't Tell Alfred, the fact of having read neither of them is in no way a disadvantage, as it stands perfectly well on its own. It does take some time to get to know the characters and to appreciate the plot in amongst the faceless aristocrats, but once this has been achieved, the novel becomes instantly more enjoyable.

As we get to know Boy and Polly better, the novel assumes more of a soap-opera quality, in the sense that it keeps readers riveted, gagging for the next instalment, and wanting desperately to know the outcome. The novel is equally enlivened with the introduction of Cedric, who adds a hilarious touch, and who cannot help but make the reader visualise how this character would be played in a film (thankfully, the novel has been adapted twice for television in the past thirty years). The novel's ends are tied up ingeniously, showing us ever further how it is Mitford's mastery of character, rather than necessarily setting, that light up her novels and make them what they are.

Other works by Nancy Mitford
Highland Fling (1931)
Christmas Pudding (1932)
Wigs on the Green (1935)
Pigeon Pie (1940)
The Pursuit of Love (1945)
The Blessing (1951)
Madame de Pompadour (1954)
Voltaire in Love (1957)
Don't Tell Alfred (1960)
The Water Beetle (1962)
The Sun King (1966)
Frederick the Great (1970)

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows)

--The blurb--
"' I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some sort of secret homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers.' January 1946: London is emerging from the shadow of the Second World War, and writer Juliet Ashton is looking for her next book subject. Who could imagine that she would find it in a letter from a man she's never met, a native of the island of Guernsey, who has come across her name written inside a book by Charles Lamb.. As Juliet and her new correspondent exchange letters, Juliet is drawn into the world of this man and his friends - and what a wonderfully eccentric world it is. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - born as a spur-of-the-moment alibi when its members were discovered breaking curfew by the Germans occupying their island - boasts a charming, funny, deeply human cast of characters, from pig farmers to phrenologists, literature lovers all. Juliet begins a remarkable correspondence with the society's members, learning about their island, their taste in books, and the impact the recent German occupation has had on their lives. Captivated by their stories, she sets sail for Guernsey, and what she finds will change her forever. Written with warmth and humor as a series of letters, this novel is a celebration of the written word in all its guises, and of finding connection in the most surprising ways."

--The review--
This novel should catch many readers purely on the strength of its out-of-kilter title. Immediately it serves as a hook: people want to know the history behind it, and this starts them reading; as readers become more entwined in the characters and plot, this keeps them going. It's a tried-and-tested strategy, and it works well for Shaffer and Barrows. A further unusual twist is added by the fact that the novel is epistolary (a genre that can be tricky to sustain realistically, but which is handled well by the authors).

The fact of there being two authors is something that I've always struggled with; if you're not strong enough to write on your own, then why piggyback on the talents of others? However, this is well explained in the book's appendices: Barrows was enlisted to finish the novel off on behalf of her mother when Shaffer became unexpectedly ill (but even then, what was the rush to finish exactly)? Nevertheless, though, credit should be given where it's due: Barrows fits seamlessly into Shaffer's writing style, to the extent that it is impossible to tell where one author's writing ends and the other's begins. If you must collaborate on authorship, this is certainly the way to do it. The writing is well-paced and consistent, and we get to know the characters well (they are also introduced one by one so that their presence is not overwhelming). The whole novel feels extremely organic, with the relationships developing naturally.

Juliet, the protagonist, is likeable and headstrong while remaining traditional, creative and imperfect. She is human and enthusiastic; we want her to succeed and to extricate herself from her unwanted suitor for once and for all. As a result, we are pleased that her ending is happy. There is romance, but it is not an overriding theme, with the friendships in the novel taking greater priority. Ultimately, it also reassures readers of the value of long-distance relationships (friendships, in this case), with warmth exuding from the novel's pages.

The novel is also historically valuable - in documenting the occupation of the Channel Islands, it deals with a much-maligned area of Second World War history, and further serves to make the book a unique debut. The only annoying aspect of this novel was really extremely so. While I can appreciate that the writers are American, it is worth regulating your English appropriately if you are pretending to be English (Juliet is a Londoner). This makes the various anachronisms and Americanisms with which the novel is peppered irritating in the extreme. "I kid you not", "teens", "dammit", "wrote the butler" (instead of "wrote TO the butler"), "to be raised" (for "to be brought up"), and "come meet" (instead of "come and/to meet") are just a few examples, and are the only major sign of sloppiness or laziness in the novel. But, nevertheless, this does not impede enjoyment totally. With the pursuit of happiness at its centre, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society is a heartwarming read that readers can fondly come back to over and over again.

The Hours (Michael Cunningham)

--The blurb--
"Exiled in Richmond in the 1920s, Virginia Woolf struggles to tame her rebellious mind and make a start on her new novel. In 1990s New York, Clarissa Vaughan goes shopping for flowers for a party for her AIDS-suffering poet-friend. This novel meditates on artistic behaviour, love and madness."

--The review--
Reputation can be a superficial and perilous thing, but having never been a huge fan of Woolf's work, I picked this up on the basis of reputation alone. Something that won the Pulitzer and was made into an award-winning film must have something going for it, I thought, and surely people don't go on about Virginia Woolf for nothing?

However, as one begins to read, it quickly becomes clear that it is Michael Cunningham, rather than Virginia Woolf or Mrs Dalloway (the novel on which The Hours is based) that is the real star of the show. Even though it is occasionally difficult to see the links that Cunningham makes at times (which makes me think, for once, that this is one of those rare occasions where extrinsic knowledge when reading a novel may be of value), with the final chapter, where all three main characters meet, perhaps being the most bewildering of these, all three women's stories are compelling and realistic. Each are hypnotic in their own very human ways, and these qualities are further drawn out by the qualities of the peripheral characters, especially Richard.

Cunningham's prose is utterly poetic, serving as a real cornerstone for the standard of fine fiction. This, however, should not put it out of readers' reach: the novel contains plenty of the standard themes of shock, love, friendship and frustration, as well as examining madness in a way that is simultaneously critical and faithful, without being overly romantic. Consequently, even if you finish the novel without wanting to know anything more about Virginia Woolf, you will be wanting to know more of the works of Michael Cunningham.

Other works by Michael Cunningham
Golden States (1984)
A Home at the End of the World (1990)
Flesh and Blood (1995)
Specimen Days (2005)
Olympia (2010)

The Plato Papers (Peter Ackroyd)

--The blurb--
"Plato, the orator, summons the citizens of London on ritual occasions to impart the ancient history of their city. He dwells particulary on the unhappy era of Mouldwarp (AD 1500-2300), which existed before the dimming of the stars and the burning of the machines. But then he is put on trial."

--The review--
The capacity for exploitation of the "dystopia novel" genre seems almost limitless, with there being no shortage of authors to step up to the plate and tackle the subject in imaginative ways. Peter Ackroyd, in 1999, was one of these writers, and the result was The Plato Papers. While it is set in the distant future, the use of the name Plato is a clever tactic to draw in classics enthusiasts as well as science fiction and dystopia fans (not forgetting standard Ackroyd fans), and this is something that continues to work well as the titular character continues to try and make sense of our time (a.k.a. The Age of Mouldwarp) through archaeological artefacts and historical papers. This insight into the vicissitudes of archaeology, juxtaposed with what our world may become and how different it may be from current times, gives great insight into how difficult it might be to analyse traces of what our generations leave behind (and what, indeed, we might leave behind) with any accuracy.

While the premises of the novella are initially tricky to become familiar with, once this familiarity has been achieved readers are able to rattle through its riveting prose with relative speed. Its wryly humorous perception of our current world helps to bind the book together, and its retrospective vantage point is realistically maintained. Even more than ten years after being written, its topics remain relevant, and yet the trials of great thinkers such as Socrates and Seneca are also recalled, but without pretension.

It is instead with great skill that Ackroyd summons the attention of readers, calling up the notion of the uncomfortableness of the past meeting the present and future. His work epitomises the maxim of fools rushing in where angels fear to tread, reminding us that we are all only human and that we cannot ever be so sure of the time in which we live. Without being didactic, it conveys greatly human teachings, and is a concise and spellbinding introduction to Ackroyd's novels. Well-written, amusing, appealing, and slightly philosophical, it tells the perennial tale of the ones who are 'right' being cast out, and reminds us of our own smallness.

Other works by Peter Ackroyd
The Great Fire of London (1982)
The Last Testament of Oscar Wilde (1983)
Hawksmoor (1985)
Chatterton (1987)
First Light (1989)
English Music (1992)
The House of Doctor Dee (1993)
Dan Leno and the Limehouse Golem (1994)
Milton in America (1996)
The Clerkenwell Tales (2003)
The Lambs of London (2004)
The Fall of Troy (2006)
The Casebook of Victor Frankenstein (2008)
The Canterbury Tales - A Retelling (2009)

The Blessing (Nancy Mitford)

--The blurb--
"After the war, English rose Grace joins her dashing aristocratic husband, Charles-Edouard, in France. She is out of her depth among the elegant French women and when she discovers her husband's tendency to lust after pretty girls, it seems that all is over - until her son Sigismond steps in..."

--The review--
It is surprising to discover that Nancy Mitford was born in 1904, just as the reign of Queen Victoria had come to a close, died in 1973, and wrote The Blessing in 1951. The surprise arises from the sheer modernity of the humour and situations with which we are presented in the forms of Grace, Charles-Edouard, Sigi, Nanny, and all their friends and family. Even having a nanny is not as dated as you might imagine, with several upper-class Parisian children still having 'nounous' today to collect them from school and look after them until their parents reappear.

As well as the characters being luminously described, with sharp dialogue and well-drawn features, the plot is taut and the mischief of Sigi enlivens the novel. The modernity and relevance of the novel is striking, although perhaps not all parts of this may be picked up on for those unfamiliar with Paris and its surrounding area: the pictures of expatriate social life could just as easily have been written today, with the mentions of British brands such as Tiptree adding to this in a positive way rather than detracting from the passages' effectiveness.

Mitford is perfectly able to keep readers on their toes as regards the storyline: in one way we know Sigi should get his comeuppance, but in another way we almost don't really want him to. The eventual reconciliation between Charles-Edouard and Grace is realistic, and the humour throughout is subtle and well-sustained (though again, some of it may pass non-expatriates by). The novella is light, but tremendously well-written and witty; it is a welcome introduction to one of the underrated classic authors of our age, and almost guaranteed to hook any reader who takes the bait.

Other works by Nancy Mitford
Highland Fling (1931)
Christmas Pudding (1932)
Wigs on the Green (1935)
Pigeon Pie (1940)
The Pursuit of Love (1945)
Love in a Cold Climate (1949)
Madame de Pompadour (1954)
Voltaire in Love (1957)
Don't Tell Alfred (1960)
The Water Beetle (1962)
The Sun King (1966)
Frederick the Great (1970)