On circumnavigation: Re-reading Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin series
Last summer I began re-reading Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey-Maturin series. I had been thinking about doing such since my first circumnavigation - ahem, the term in-the-know Aubrey-Maturin fanatics use to refer to completing a read-through of all 20 novels (I don't count the unfinished 21st volume, I'm sure there are those who do). When a friend specifically asked me for recommendations for novels I had read where I missed the characters after completing them, it led me to set out on my second circumnavigation because, dang it, I do miss Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin and the whole world of secondary characters in these novels when I'm not actively reading them.
As you can imagine, an unfinished 20-novel series covers a LOT of ground, but some of the larger themes the books explore include friendship, honor and dishonor, the role of fortune and misfortune in a life, marriage and fidelity, money, and addiction. There's tons of Napoleonic-era naval jargon (but not as much as some people make out), depictions of early-nineteenth century medicine, natural philosophy, music, and food. All of that you could spend years examining, but what truly makes the books special for me are the close observations of human nature. Stephen lays out a thesis statement for the entire series early on in the first volume, Master and Commander:
'For a philosopher, a student of human nature, what could be better? The subjects of his inquiry shut up together, unable to escape his gaze, their passions heightened by the dangers of war, the hazards of their calling, their isolation from women and their curious, but uniform diet. And by the glow of patriotic fervour, no doubt...It is true that for some time past I have taken more interest in the cryptogams than in my fellow-men; but even so, a ship must be a most instructive theatre for an inquiring mind.'
Perhaps that undersells it a bit, as happenings by land are at least as important as those aboard ship, and O'Brian's women characters are as finely drawn as the men. But the point still stands - these novels act as a giant tapestry for O'Brian to weave his observations of the human character into.
When I first read these all the way through like many I found reference materials key to keeping me oriented. There are many, but I found myself returning to three most often. Dean King's two volumes, A Sea of Words (Bookshop|Library) and Harbors and High Seas (Bookshop|Library) are a dictionary and an atlas, respectively, that are incredibly useful. For more detailed maps, I find the maps at Cannonade.net even better.
This time around, I have also enjoyed listening to The Lubber's Hole, a podcast put on by a couple of fans who have been considering the novels chapter by chapter since the time of pandemic lockdowns. Since I don't know anyone else who has or is reading the entire series, listening to Mike and Ian consider each book in this way has greatly increased my grasp of the material and opened my eyes to many things I just flat-out overlooked on my first reading.
This read-through I've also been building my own reference. One of the particular pleasures of the series for me is O'Brian's often fairly extensive lists and descriptions of wildlife, plants, and other natural phenomena. It's clear from the level of detail, as well as the depictions of various related social interactions among the characters that O'Brian himself was something of a birder and naturalist. Tracking mentions of all the organisms across the global environments his characters visit - mostly through the eyes of Stephen Maturin - has added a new dimension to the series for me.