When I decided several months ago to borrow this book ("THE SECOND MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE WORLD") from my neighborhood library, its subject William D. Leahy was someone I regarded as a peripheral figure in history. I had had some prior awareness of Leahy. But I had assumed that he, a naval officer, had been Franklin Roosevelt's physician during the Second World War. And so, I didn't give him a second thought.

But once I began reading this biography, I began to see that Leahy was a remarkable man on so many levels who selflessly devoted his life in service to the United States. Born in 1875 in Wisconsin, a second-generation Irish American, Leahy went on to attend the Naval Academy at a time when the U.S. Navy was in the midst of transitioning from the Age of Sail to a modern navy run on coal --- which in turn would give way in the 20th century to warships powered by gasoline derived from petroleum --- graduating in 1897. Leahy would later see action during the Spanish-American War and over the next 52 years would rise through the Navy, having commanded various warships in home waters and overseas and engaged in a variety of administrative and diplomatic roles. Indeed, as a young naval officer, Leahy in 1913 made the acquaintance of Franklin Roosevelt, who was then Assistant Secretary of the Navy in the Wilson Administration. The two men were to form a deep, special bond over the years. And though their paths would diverge during the 1920s, the men kept in touch. So that when Roosevelt was elected President in 1932, Leahy would become a confidante and adviser to FDR, who furthered Leahy's naval career. Before the decade was out, Leahy would serve as the Chief of Naval Operations, the highest rung in the Navy's hierarchy.

I was also impressed that Leahy, unlike many of his contemporaries in the post-World War I era who were wedded to the battleship as key to naval doctrine and tactics, grew to appreciate the potential that aircraft represented as they became increasingly sophisticated, capable of travelling great distances and showing their worth as offensive weapons at sea. Leahy would also serve in 2 key political posts - first as Governor of Puerto Rico (1939-40), in which capacity he oversaw the development of several military bases, assumed the stance of not interfering in local politics, and made an effort to understand and respect Puerto Rican culture; and later as the U.S. Ambassador to Vichy France (from 1941 to May 1942).

But Leahy's greatest role -- which was to be the capstone to his naval career -- was as the nation's first Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the Second World War. There was hardly any aspect of wartime grand strategy in which Leahy did not leave his stamp. This is where the book title of "THE SECOND MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE WORLD" is most apt. In this role, Leahy's relationship with FDR deepened further, becoming, it seemed to me, almost symbiotic. Leahy deeply admired and respected FDR and never sought power for himself. He worked incredibly hard and put in long hours as a matter of routine.

And then upon FDR's death in April 1945, Leahy would stay on to serve in the Truman Administration, developing a close relationship with President Truman. He helped to shape what would become the Truman Doctrine (along with the National Security Council and the CIA - which he felt should not engage in clandestine activities but restrict itself to gathering intelligence for the government; unfortunately, after Leahy retired, the CIA - due to the influence of Allen Dulles who led it during the Eisenhower years - would later have as its remit, clandestine activities and other nefarious doings) in the early Cold War years, retiring in January 1949.

What I also appreciated from reading this biography was learning about Leahy the man, how he thought and felt about the various famous and not-so-famous personages he dealt with -- as well as his attitudes on people and the various travels he embarked upon throughout his long life. (Leahy kept a rather extensive diary through most of his life.)

And now that I've read this delightful book, I would urge anyone who wants to learn about a signficant historical figure deserving of wider recognition, pick up "THE SECOND MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE WORLD." It's one of the best biographies I've ever read. 

The lyrical prose and the perfect Galway patter were seductive but in the end, I couldn't find it in me to like this drunk with a habit of violence and a passion for books.

I'd heard good things about the Jack Taylor series. They made a TV series about it so I thought, it can't be all bad if it's been on the tele now, can it?

"The Guards" starts well enough. The style is a kind of Nineties Philip Marlowe, if Marlowe had been an alcoholic from Galway who was well-read, didn't think much of himself or anyone else, constantly took the piss out of himself and was pretty hopeless at investigating things.

Jack Taylor's main achievements in life so far have been drinking and getting himself thrown out of the Garda (although not for drinking).

I listened to the audiobook, narrated by Gerry O'Brien, and found myself enjoying listening to Jack's self-mocking description of his first case as an unlicensed PI investigating the suicide of a teenage girl.

Let me share the close of chapter one with you. It'll give you the flavour of the thing. Jack is on his way home from too many glasses of Back Bush to recall and has stopped to pick up some chips, with a cod thrown in to make it seem more substantial.:

Is there anything more comforting than doused in vinegar chips? The smell is like the childhood you never had.

 

As I approached my flat, I was in artificial contentment. Turning to my door, the first blow caught me on the neck. Then a kick to the cobblers. For mad reasons, I hung on to the chips. Two men, two big men, they gave me a highly professional hiding. A mix of kicks and punches that came with the rhythm of precision.

 

Without malice but with absolute dedication. I felt my nose break. Would swear it made a crunch sound.

 

One of them said, "Get his hand. Spread the fingers." I fought that. Then my fingers were splayed on the road. It felt cold and wet. Twice the shoe came down. I roared for all I was worth. They were done. The other said, "Won't be playing with himself for a bit." A voice close to my ear, "Keep your nose out of other people's business."

 

I wanted to cry, "Call the Guards", as they headed off. I tried to say, "Buy your own chips!" but my mouth was full of blood.

I thought that was wonderful.

Sadly, Jack turned out to be the kind of man you sometimes meet, usually while consuming alcohol in a public place, who at first seems both charming and wise. His voice is soft, his bright verbal plumage is borrowed from the finest writers and he's happy to share the wisdom that his suffering has won him. By the fourth or fifth pint, the shine wears off, the borrowed feathers moult and you start to see that the charm is there to hide a man addicted to drink and prone to violence who knows in his heart that he's broken.

If your response to such a man is, "Well he is who is and he could be worse. Good luck to him." then I think you'll be reading the whole series. If, like me, you cannot find it in yourself to like this self-harming drunk with a habit for violence, then you'll be stopping after the first book.

The book itself is not so much about solving a crime as about seeing the kind of man Jack is, the kind of man he might be if he were able to stay sober and to understand the childhood that produced such flawed potential.

It's many decades since I last spent any time in Galway but Ken Bruen seems to me to present a credible version of the place and its people and that alone is reason enough to read the first book.

Decide for yourself. Click on the SoundCloud link below and let Gerry O'Brien cast Ken Bruen's spell over you.

https://soundcloud.com/ulverscroft/the-guards-by-ken-bruen

I decided to head to Ireland rather than Norway for my Modern Noir square.

I'd heard good things about the Jack Taylor series, the one they made"> the TV series about. It can't be all bad if it's been on the tele now, can it?

The style is a kind of Nineties Philip Marlowe, if Marlowe had been an alcoholic from Galway who was well-read, didn't think much of himself or anyone else and constantly took the piss out of himself. 

Jack Taylor's main achievements in life so far have been drinking and getting himself thrown out of the Garda (although not for drinking).

So far I'm enjoying listening to Jack's self-mocking description of his first case as an unlicensed PI investigating the suicide of a teenage girl.

Let me share the close of chapter one with you. It'll give you the flavour of the thing. Jack is on his way home from too many glasses of Back Bush to recall and has stopped to pick up some chips, with a cod thrown in to make it seem more substantial.:

Is there anything more comforting than doused in vinegar chips? The smell is like the childhood you never had.

 

As I approached my flat, I was in artificial contentment. Turning to my door, the first blow caught me on the neck. Then a kick to the cobblers. For mad reasons, I hung on to the chips. Two men, two big men, they gave me a highly professional hiding. A mix of kicks and punches that came with the rhythm of precision. Without malice but with absolute dedication. I felt my nose break. Would swear it made a crunch sound,

 

One of them said, "Get his hand. Spread the fingers." I fought that. Then my fingers were splayed on the road. It felt cold and wet. Twice the shoe came down. I roared for all I was worth. They were done. The other said, "Won't be playing with himself for a bit." A voice close to my ear, "Keep your nose out of other people's business."

 

I wanted to cry, "Call the Guards", as they headed off. I tried to say, "Buy your own chips!" but my mouth was full of blood.

 

Today's prompt is for favorite horror reads; that not being much of my thing (outside, perhaps, the gothic classics and anything more edifying or funny rather than scary), I think I'm going to leave that prompt to Char, Bark's Books (aka Bark at the Ghouls), and the site's other horror fans.  Instead, I'm going to catch up on the prompt from the day before yesterday -- I'm really, really excited about the new squares.

This is going to be another multiple-post reply ... because come on, these covers are just too beautiful not to give them a space of their own!

I started listening to James O’Brien on LBC radio a while ago. I’ve always been a fan, watching videos (that have gone viral) of him demolishing callers on issues where they’re clearly misinformed. That led me to listen to his full show every morning from Monday-Friday. I must admit I’ve taken a little break from listening as his near-continual demonization of Jeremy Corbyn is a little much. I agree with some of it, it’s not that, it’s just a bit repetitive.

Each chapter in this fairly short book discusses a subject such as immigration or feminism. To illustrate his arguments O’Brien intersperses each chapter with calls he’s had previously to his radio show. These were my favorite bits. I listened to this on audio which was great and these calls were rerecorded with a voice actor who put on various accents etc and really made them.

James’s overarching point is that people aren’t often asked to explain their position anymore. He contests that when they are they often crumble and reveal the truth of their arguments, that it’s just repetition of what someone else has said and not something they’ve actively thought about. What James wants most of all is to force these people to think. The biggest compliment he can receive, he says, is to change someone’s mind.

This is a great book to inform, especially when it comes to Brexit and I would strongly urge everyone (from the U.K. especially) to read this and take on the most central point: have the ability to defend your arguments.