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From the Hardcover edition.
Lieutenant Colonel Abner Dowling strode into the offices of the U.S. Army General Staff in Philadelphia, escaping the January snow outside. He was a big, beefy man—unkind people, of whom he’d met altogether too many, would have called him fat—and walked with a determination that made other, younger, officers get out of his way, even though his green-gray uniform bore not a trace of the gold-and-black ribbon that marked a General Staff man.
He looked around with more than a little curiosity. He hadn’t been in General Staff headquarters for many years—not since before the Great War, in fact. He’d spent the past ten years as adjutant to General George Armstrong Custer, and Custer’s relationship with the General Staff had always been . . . combustible was the first word that came to mind. The first printable word, anyhow.
But Custer was retired now—retired at last, after more than sixty years of service in the Army—and Dowling needed a new assignment. I wonder what they’ll give me. What ever it is, it’s bound to be a walk in the park after what I’ve gone through with Custer. Anything this side of standing sentry on the battlements of hell would have seemed a walk in the park after ten years with Custer. The man was unquestionably a hero. Dowling would have been the first to admit it. Nevertheless . . .
He tried not to think of Custer, which was like trying not to think of a red fish. Then he got lost—General Staff headquarters had expanded a great deal since his last visit. Having to ask his way did take his mind off his former superior. At last, by turning left down a corridor where he hadturned right, he made his way to the office of General Hunter Liggett, chief of the General Staff.
Liggett’s adjutant was a sharp-looking lieutenant colonel named John Abell. When Dowling walked into the office, the fellow was talking on the telephone: “—the best we can, with the budget the Socialists are willing to let us have.” He looked up and put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Yes, Lieutenant Colonel? May I help you?”
“I’m Abner Dowling. I have a ten o’clock appointment with General Liggett.” By the clock on the wall, it was still a couple of minutes before ten. Dowling had built in time for things to go wrong. Custer never did anything like that. Custer never figured anything would go wrong. Dowling shook his head. Don’t think about Custer.
Lieutenant Colonel Abell nodded. “Go right in. He’s expecting you.” He returned to his interrupted telephone conversation: “I know what we should be doing, and I know what we are doing. There will be trouble one day, but they’re too sure of themselves to believe it.”
However much Dowling wanted to linger and eavesdrop, he went on into General Liggett’s inner office and closed the door behind him. Saluting, he said, “Reporting as ordered, sir.”
Hunter Liggett returned the salute. He was a jowly man in his mid-sixties, with a penetrating stare and a white Kaiser Bill mustache waxed to pointed perfection. “At ease, Lieutenant Colonel. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dowling eased his bulk down into a chair.
“What are we going to do with you?” Liggett said. It had to be a rhetorical question; the answer surely already lay there on his desk. He went on, “You’ve seen a lot these past few years, haven’t you? By now, I suspect, you could handle just about anything. Couldn’t you, Lieutenant Colonel?”
Dowling didn’t like the sound of that. “I hope so, sir,” he answered cautiously. Maybe he wouldn’t get a walk in the park after all. “Ahh . . . What have you got in mind?”
“Everyone is very pleased with your performance in Canada,” General Liggett said. “The assistant secretary of war, Mr. Thomas, spoke highly of you in his report to President Sinclair. He wrote that you did your best to make a difficult and unpleasant situation go more smoothly. Any time a soldier wins praise from the present administration, he must have done very well indeed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dowling remembered that Liggett had become chief of the General Staff during the present Socialist administration, replacing General Leonard Wood. That made him watch his tongue. “I’m glad Mr. Thomas was pleased. I didn’t really do that much. Mostly, I just sat there and kept my mouth shut.” N. Mattoon Thomas had come up to Winnipeg to force General Custer into retirement. Custer hadn’t wanted to go; Custer never wanted to do anything anyone told him to do, and he thoroughly despised the Socialists. But they’d held the high cards, and he hadn’t.
“Well, what ever you did say, Mr. Thomas liked it,” Liggett said. “He wrote of your tact and your discretion and your good sense—said if you were a diplomat instead of a soldier, you’d make a splendid ambassador.” Liggett chuckled. “Damn me to hell if you’re not blushing.”
“I’m flattered, sir.” Dowling was also embarrassed. Like a lot of fat men, he flushed easily, and he knew it.
General Liggett went on, “And it just so happens that we have a post where a man with such talents would be very useful, very useful indeed.”
“Does it? Do you?” Dowling said, and Liggett gave him a genial nod. Dowling had a fair notion of where such a post might be. Hoping he was wrong, he asked, “What have you got in mind, sir?”
Sure enough, Liggett said, “I’ve had to relieve Colonel Sorenson as military governor of Salt Lake City. He’s an able officer, Sorenson is; don’t get me wrong. But he turned out to be a little too . . . unbending for the position. By President Sinclair’s orders, we are trying to bring Utah back towards being a normal state in the Union once more. A tactful, diplomatic officer running things in Salt Lake could do us a lot of good there.”
“I . . . see,” Dowling said slowly. “The only trouble is, sir, I’m not sure I think Utah ought to be a normal state in the Union once more.” The Mormons in Utah had caused trouble during the Second Mexican War, back at the start of the 1880s—as a result of which, the U.S. Army had landed on them with both feet. Then, in 1915, perhaps aided and abetted by the Confederates and the British from Canada, they’d risen in open rebellion. The Army had had to crush them one town at a time, and had made a peace only in the Tacitean sense of the word, leaving desert behind it.
“Between you and me and the four walls of my office, Lieutenant Colonel, I’m not sure I think so, either,” Liggett answered. “But the Army doesn’t make policy. That’s the president’s job. All we do is carry it out. And so . . . would you like to be the next military governor of Salt Lake City?”
Maybe I should have been a nasty son of a bitch when I was working for Custer, Dowling thought. But he said what he had to say: “Yes, sir.” After a moment, he added, “If I’m being diplomatic . . .”
“Yes?” Liggett asked.
“Well, sir, wouldn’t you say the good people of Salt Lake City might see it as an insult to them if a full colonel were replaced by a lieutenant colonel?” Dowling said. “Couldn’t it lead them to believe the United States Army finds them less important than it once did?”
Amusement glinted in Liggett’s eyes. “And how do you propose to make sure the good people of Salt Lake City—if there are any—don’t find themselves insulted?”
“I can think of a couple of ways, sir,” Dowling replied. “One would be to appoint somebody who’s already a bird colonel as military governor there.”
“Yes, that stands to reason,” Liggett agreed. “And the other?” He leaned back in his swivel chair, which squeaked. He seemed to be enjoying himself, waiting to hear what Dowling would say.
Dowling had hoped the chief of the General Staff would come out and say it for him. When Liggett didn’t, he had to speak for himself: “The other way, sir, would be to promote me to the appropriate rank.”
“And you think you deserve such a promotion, eh?” Liggett rumbled.
“Yes, sir,” Dowling said boldly. After ten years with Custer, I deserve to be a major general, by God. And if he said no, he knew he’d never be promoted again.
General Liggett shuffled through papers on his desk. Finding the one he wanted, he shoved it, face down, across the polished expanse of mahogany to Dowling. “This may be of some interest to you, then.”
“Thank you,” Dowling said, wondering if he ought to thank Liggett. He turned the paper over, glanced at it—and stared at his superior. “Thank you very much, sir!” he exclaimed.
“You’re welcome, Colonel Dowling,” Liggett replied. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you very much,” Dowling repeated. “Uh, sir . . . Would you have given me this if I hadn’t asked for it?”
Liggett’s smile was as mysterious as the Mona Lisa’s, though a good deal less benign. “You’ll never know, will you?” His chuckle was not a pleasant sound. He found another sheet of paper, and passed it to Dowling, too. “Here are your orders, Colonel. Your train goes out of Broad Street Station tomorrow morning. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job, and I know for a fact that General Pershing is looking forward to having you under his command.”
“Do you?” All of a sudden, Dowling’s world seemed less rosy. During the war, Pershing’s Second Army had fought side by side with Custer’s First in Kentucky and Tennessee. The two armies had been rivals, as neighbors often are, and their two commanders had been rivals, too. Custer was suspicious of his younger colleague, as he was suspicious of any other officer who might steal his glory. Dowling had forgotten Pershing was military governor of Utah these days.
“I think I know what’s bothering you, Colonel,” Liggett said. If anyone knew about rivalries, the chief of the General Staff would be the man. He went on, “You don’t have to worry, not on that score. I meant what I said: General Pershing is eager to have you.”
But what will he do with me—to me—once he’s got me? Dowling wondered. He couldn’t say that. All he could say was, “That’s good to hear, sir.”
“Which means you don’t believe me,” Liggett said. “Well, that’s your privilege. You may even be right. I don’t think you are, but you may be.”
Dowling was by nature a pessimist. If he hadn’t been before, ten years under General Custer would have made him one. “I’ll do the best I can, sir, that’s all,” he said. And what ever Pershing does to me, by God, I’ll have eagles on my shoulder straps. That makes up for a lot.
General Liggett nodded. “As long as you do that, no one can ask any more of you.”
“All right, sir.” Dowling started to rise, then checked himself. “May I ask you one more thing, sir? It’s got nothing to do with Mormons.”
“Go ahead and ask,” Liggett told him. “I don’t promise to answer, not till I’ve heard the question.”
“I understand. What I want to know is, are we really cutting back on building new and better barrels? I’ve heard that, but it strikes me as foolish.” Like most professional soldiers, Dowling had no use for the Socialist Party. There as in few other places, he agreed with the man under whom he’d served for so long. He would have expressed himself a lot more strongly had he been talking with General Leonard Wood, a lifelong Democrat and a friend of ex–President Theodore Roosevelt.
But Liggett nodded again, and didn’t sound happy as he answered, “We aren’t just cutting back, as a matter of fact. We’re gutting the program. No money in the budget any more. That outfit at Fort Leavenworth called the Barrel Works . . .” He slashed a thumb across his throat. “As our German friends would say, kaputt.”
“That’s—unfortunate, sir.” Dowling used the politest word he could. “Barrels won us the last war. They won’t count less in the next one.”
“Don’t be silly, Colonel. There’ll never, ever be another war. Just ask President Sinclair.” He’s still a soldier first, then, Dowling thought. Good. Both men laughed. But for the bitter undertone in each one’s voice, the joke might have been funny.
Anne Colleton was studying the Wall Street Journal when the telephone rang. She muttered something under her breath, put down the five-day-old newspaper, and went to answer the phone. Back in the days when she’d lived on the Marshlands plantation, her butler, Scipio, or one of the other Negro servants would have done that for her and spared her the interruption. These days, though, the Marshlands mansion was a burnt-out ruin, the cotton fields around it going back to grass and bushes. Anne lived in town, not that St. Matthews, South Carolina, was much of a town.
“This is Anne Colleton,” she said crisply. She was in her mid-thirties. With her sleek blond good looks, she could have lied ten years off her age with no one the wiser—till she spoke. Few people younger than she—few her own age, for that matter, but even fewer younger—could have so quickly made plain they put up with no nonsense at all.
“And a good day to you, Miss Colleton,” replied the man on the other end of the line. By the hisses and pops accompanying his voice, he was calling from some distance away. He went on, “My name is Edward C.L. Wiggins, ma’am, and I’m in Richmond.”
Long distance, sure enough, Anne thought—he sounded as if he were shouting down a rain barrel. “What is it, Mr. Wiggins?” she said. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t had the pleasure,” he agreed, “but the Colleton name is famous all over the Confederate States.”
He doubtless meant that as pleasant flattery. Anne Colleton had heard enough pleasant flattery to last the rest of her life by the time she was sixteen—one consequence of her looks men seldom thought about. “You can come to the point, Mr. Wiggins,” she said pleasantly, “or I’ll hang up on you no matter where you are.”
“Once upon a time, President Semmes sent me up to Philadelphia to see if I could dicker a peace with the Yankees, but they wouldn’t do it,” Wig- gins said.
That wasn’t coming to the point, or Anne didn’t think it was, but it did get her attention. “This would have been fairly early on, before we finally had to quit?” she asked.
“That’s right, ma’am,” he said.
“I heard rumors about that,” she said. “With all the money I gave the Whigs in those days, I would have thought I deserved to hear something more than rumors, but evidently not. So you were representing President Semmes, were you?”
“Yes, ma’am, in an unofficial sort of way.”
“And whose representative are you now, in an unofficial sort of way? I’m sure you’re somebody’s.”
Edward C.L. Wiggins chuckled. “I heard you were one clever lady. I guess I heard right.”
“Who told you so?” Anne asked sharply.
“Well, now, I was just getting to that. I—”
Anne did hang up then. She wasted not a minute getting back to work. With her finances in the state they were, they needed all the time she could give them. They needed more than that, too: they needed something close to a miracle. She wasn’t a pauper, as so many prewar planters were these days. But she wasn’t rich enough not to have to worry, either, and she didn’t know if she ever would be.
A few minutes later, the phone rang again. Anne picked it up. “Why, Mr. Wiggins. What a pleasant surprise,” she said before whoever was on the other end of the line could speak. If it wasn’t Wiggins, she would have to apologize to someone, but she thought the odds were good enough to take the chance.
And it was. “Miss Colleton, if you would let me explain myself—”
She cut him off, though she didn’t—quite—hang up on him once more. “I gave you two chances to do that. You didn’t. If you think I’m in the habit of wasting my time on strange men who call me out of the blue, you’re mistaken—and whoever told you what you think you know about me hasn’t got the faintest notion of what he’s talking about.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Wiggins’ voice was dry. “He told me you were sharp as a tack but a first-class bitch, and that doesn’t seem so far out to me.”
“I’m sure he meant it as an insult, but I’ll take it for a compliment,” Anne said. “Last chance, Mr. Wiggins—who told you that?”
Anne had expected almost any other name than that of the Freedom Party leader. Something she didn’t want to call alarm shot through her. She took Jake Featherston very seriously. That didn’t mean she wanted anything to do with him. She’d backed him for a while, yes, but she backed winners, and he didn’t look like one any more. Trying to gain time to recover her composure, she asked, “If you used to work for the Whigs, why are you calling me for Featherston now?”
“On account of what I saw when I went to Philadelphia, ma’am,” he replied. “The United States don’t respect you when you’re weak. If you’re down, they’ll kick you. But if you’re strong, they have got to sit up and take notice. That’s a fact.”
“I agree with that. I think everyone in the Confederate States agrees with that,” Anne said.
“Well, there you are,” Wiggins said cheerily. “If you agree with that, the Freedom Party is really and truly the only place for you, because—”
“Nonsense.” Anne didn’t care about his reasons. She had reasons of her own: “The Freedom Party has about as much chance of electing the next president as I do of getting elected myself. I have no intention of giving Jake Featherston one more dime. Every since that madman of a Grady Calkins murdered President Hampton, it’d take a special miracle for anyone from the Freedom Party to get himself elected dog catcher, let alone anything more. I don’t spend my money where it does me no good.”
“I don’t think the clouds are as black as you say, ma’am,” Wiggins replied. “Yes, we lost a couple of seats in the election last November, but not as many as people said we would. We’ll be back—you wait and see if we aren’t. Folks don’t have much in the way of memory—and besides, ma’am, we’re right.”
Posted May 15, 2014
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Posted March 5, 2011
This book is an interesting look at what history could have been. A good book for history buffs. Great for the nookcolor too because it is easy to look up actual events and compare to the authors story.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 17, 2010
Started readying this series and I have to say I enjoy it very much. The book is an easy read and has a lot of good character development and subplots. I would definitely advice to read the previous books from the series before reading this book. The pace of the book is slower and less exciting from the previous books but what do yo expect, the war is over! for now. Overall I would recommend this book.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
1st part of a second trilogy in an American Alternate History series. This book continues a strange and fascinating "what if..." scenario where the Confederate States of America, and the United States of America have just finished a grueling and bloody war during the time period of World War I.
It continues to flesh out existing characters from the original series as it moves into the 1920's and the beginnings of the Great Depressions.
Posted July 2, 2007
has it occured to anyone in hollywood to turn these books into films? i mean with the shape hollywood is in right now, maybe this could be a great turn of the tide. these books are very well written and the characters are pretty well written also. im only half way through the victorious opposition and i' am very pleased with it so far. MAKE THESE BOOKS INTO MOVIES!!!!!!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 12, 2005
I have had the priviledge of reading all of Harry Turtledove's books on the alternate histoy of a now existing CSA.From 'How Few Remain' to 'The Victorious Opposition' Plus the alternate history novel 'Guns of the South.' Every one of these books are,in my view and opinion, most excellent reading.I would recomend them to anyone, especially anyone interested in alternate history reading.Keep up the good work Mr.Turtledove, I hope you continue with these books right up to the present day, it would be most interesting to see how you weave an alternate history of today, where the Confederacy still exists.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 27, 2004
Reading Harry Turtledove's latest chapter in his 'The South Won the Civil War' epic is like watching a slow-motion train wreak you are powerless to stop. True, it is a necessary final bridge between the inter-war period and the resolution that readers anticipate will follow the WWII of his alternate reality. But at the same time it is a frustrating experience as conditions go from bad to worse and the reader knows that no good will come of any of it. Not only has the author long since telegraphed his overall intentions and themes, but he has even begun telegraphing the minor subplot twists. In the last book of the WWI portion of the saga, and the first covering the interwar period, he set events on a path parallel to the actual history familiar to readers. Thus, there were few surprises in 'Victorious Opposition.' We know, for example, that the CSA president, the Hitler parallel, will strong-arm opponents, create a police state, launch a brutal suppression of blacks, ignore international treaties and promises, and generally look to start WWII. These events were clearly telegraphed in the previous book. This being so, the only surprise in this book is the way previously unrelated characters occasionally cross one another's paths, and how familiar characters die off...not always by 'natural causes.' Turtledove also has an odd habit of repeating himself in exposition when returning to a character after 30 or so pages of other action. He seems to think that the readers have forgotten the character's personality and motivations. Thus, we read and reread, for example, the twisted lust for revenge that motivates Mary Pomeroy. This is really unnecessary, especially for readers who have long since become familiar with the characters. This book was a necessary step to link the previous chapter to the one that begins the story of WWII. But it is not enjoyable, it holds little (if any) suspense, and has the reader eager to just get it over with so the final act of the overall saga can begin. In and of itself, it is NOT a bad book, and it certainly lives up to Turtledove's reputation as a master of believable alternate history. However, I am glad it is behind me, and look forward to the next few installments so I can see how Turtledove's post WWII world turns out. 'Victorious Opposition' was a train wreak I could not avoid seeing, but nonetheless was one I wish I did not have to witness in quite such unpleasant detail.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted September 11, 2003
An excellent entry into the series! Mr. Turtledove seems to have paid heed to some of the criticism of the preceeding novel, 'The Center Cannot Hold'. He has caused the demise of several peripheral characters who no longer added to the story, thus allowing the story to flow more freely. He has also done a little more towards adding real characters from history (for instance, a young Congressman Barry Goldwater)- which is one of the reasons some of us enjoy this genre. The idea that, given a different set of historical outcomes, how would people we know have acted - better? Worse? The same? It all makes for a more enjoyable and fascinating read - and the end result is that I can't wait for the next novel! Let me also throw in a suggestion or two - I would love to see President Al Smith make a deal with the Empire of Mexico, that if they attack the CSA from the south, they will receive the CSA States of Chihuahua and Sonora as 'spoils of war' - and then let Mexico try to 'administer' Texas! This way the USA could avoid the disastrous experience it suffered trying to occupy the state of 'Houston'. Also - I understand that the CSA 'owns' Cuba in this reality = that it is a state? Yet, we never have heard anything regarding it? I find it difficult to believe that ther native Cubans would be altogether happy with this? Let's see what can be stirred up there! Anyway - BRAVO, Mr. Turtledove! Thanks for a wonderful read - can't wait for the next!Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 12, 2003
Another seven years are covered in this epic saga of the two Americas - USA vs. CSA. To really enjoy it you should read all preceding novels. The book starts right after the CSA got their new ultra right-wing president - parallels to 'real' history's rise of the Nazis is definitely intended. Staying with the concept of concentrating on one of the dozen or so characters for every 3-4 pages throughout the whole book, you finally arrive in the year 1940, and... well, get the book and see for yourself.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted August 1, 2003
I have loved the Turtledove books ever since I picked up the first one, How Few Remain, last year. I flew threw the Great War Saga and read the American Empire series. I was eagerly awaiting this book, but I was slightly disappointed. Some of the characters in the book, like Scipio, Sylvia Enos, Mary 'McGregor' Pomeroy, and Sam Carsten seemed repetitive. Although, there is the occasional plot twist that changed the character, it was rather repeative. I greatly look forward to where some of the characters are going, such as Jefferson Pinkard, Jake Featherston, Flora Blackford, and Clarence Potter are going. I eagerly a wait where Mr. Turtledove will take all of our beloved characters next. As someone who greatly enjoys history, I can't say enough for this book and all of the rest of Mr. Turtledove's books. I love looking at what happened just because one thing changed in one battle of the Civil War. I look at this book, and I see all the little things that really happened in say Germany after World War Two, and I see some of those things happen to the Confederate States of America. From the Olympics in Richmond, to rounding up Blacks and putting them in camps, to riots against blacks much like riots against Jews in Germany, I can't say enough about how some events run along side of events in Nazi Germany in our real life.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted December 9, 2008
In a world that never was but could haven been, the Confederacy won the War of Succession and the United States had to recognize them as a sovereign nation. As the victors, they imposed certain restrictions on the way the United States governed itself. When the Great War broke out, the United States was the winner, wrestling territory away from the Confederacy and bringing it into the union. To prevent Britain from ever being a threat in the USA again, the army marched into Canada and made it a territory of America. Canada is no longer a recognized country and all laws and military rules come from the American Army of Occupation. Texas is part of the CSA but during the Great War, the US annexed part of the state naming it Houston and bringing it into the Union. Sequoyah is a part of the USA but like Houston and Kentucky (which was also forcibly brought back into the USA) they want to rejoin the CSA. <P>There are very few blacks in the USA and most of them live in Kentucky. Former slaves trying to leave the CSA are turned back at the US border. When the world plunges into a Depression, the fascist Freedom party elects Jake Featherston president. He uses strong-arm tactics against his enemies, takes control of the radio and newspapers and sets up internment camps for political prisoners and Red Negroes. He begins building tractors and farm equipment at a fast rate so that the Black sharecroppers become redundant. Many resort to fighting a guerrilla war while others go begging for take menial jobs in the cities. <P>Under the terms of the 1917 Armistice, the CSA military is sharply curtailed but Featherston finds ways of getting around the restrictions. He is slowly building up the military strength of the CSA to the level it was in 1863. His freedom party goons are agitating in Sequoyah, Houston and Kentucky for a plebiscite and the socialist president of the USA finally allows the people of those states to vote on whether they want to stay in the USA or leave and rejoin the CSA. Many people in both countries believe that another war between the USA and CSA is inevitable. <P>Harry Turtledove is the recognized grand master of alternative history and in AMERICAN EMPIRE: THE VICTORIOUS OPPOSITION; he shows his talent grows with each book he writes. The Freedom Party can be compared with the rise of the Nazi Party in our universe and just like the SS troopers; the high-ranking members in the party use the same strong-arm tactics to cow the populace. Instead of Jews being discriminated against, the Blacks are the scapegoats. France and Russia sided with the confederacy and when they lost the war, they had to obey the terms of the armistice but they are unhappy and ready to go to war again to regain their freedoms. France especially wants to regain Alsace-Lorraine from Germany but are wary of fighting the Germans a third time. <P>The characters in this novel are real people representing all walks of life so that the reader has a very visual picture of what life is like in this altered universe that seems similar but is so very different from our own. The CSA president is not a likable man and freedom lovers will despise him but the audience will understand that many of his constituents want him in office so that he can turn their country around and make it a world power. <P>Harriet KlausnerWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted January 29, 2003
Let me just say that I am a big fan of Mr. Turtledove. I feel that this book is the best installment of this alternate timeline to date. In some of the earlier books I got the impression that he was being paid by the word, and it showed (sentences and even whole paragraphs repeated over and over again without advancing the plot or expanding the story at all). I thought that this book moved along at a very nice pace, and not once did I get the feeling that what I was reading was being recycled. I can't wait for the next book in the series.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.