I’m a sucker for historical fiction, and never more so than when a book jacket features 18th or 19th century military uniforms – my enduring love for the adventures of Richard Sharpe has led me on many forays to try and re-capture the simple pleasure that Bernard Cornwell has provided over the years: for a while Alan Mallinson filled the gap, and Iain Gale’s Four Days in June was very enjoyable; Simon Scarrow’s Napoleon and Wellington series lacks the visceral sense of action experienced by the lower ranks, and Flashman is wonderful but too flippant to scratch this particular itch. So with effusive quotes from Cornwell and Conn Iggulden on the cover, I approached acclaimed historian Saul David’s debut novel with high hopes. Unfortunately, I was left somewhat disappointed. The cynic in me thinks that these titans of the genre felt able to praise David because they know they won’t have serious competition from him anytime soon.

The hero of the tale, George Hart, is the bastard offspring of a half-Irish, half-Zulu actress (difficult to make her much more unwelcome in polite Victorian society, you would think), and an anonymous pillar of the British military establishment. Kept in the dark about his origins, George graduates from Sandhurst top of his class at the age of 18 and then discovers that his father will only provide further for him if he can achieve three deeply challenging things within ten years: marry a woman of gentle birth; win the Victoria Cross; and progress in the army to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. Given that he doesn’t quite manage any of these in Zulu Hart, the foundations are well and truly being laid for a multi-volume Hart series – there are plenty more Victorian colonial wars and diplomatic adventures available for Hart to get embroiled in, that’s for sure.

If David is going to sell enough books to give the series that kind of lifespan, he needs to address some problems that drag this book down. The first is a pretty poor ear for dialogue – I know these are Victorians, but would anyone ever have uttered “I take it that his Lordship knows nothing of the diabolical plot you and Fynn hatched to destroy Matshana”? Too often the dialogue jars, which is a shame. The second problem is the character of Hart himself: long-lived adventurers either tend to be utter scoundrels (Flashman); ruthless hard-hearted streetfighters (Sharpe); or perfect gentlemen (Matthew Hervey). Hart is none of these things: young and naive in some respects, yet already showing a fickle approach to women, he just isn’t quite well defined enough to elicit our sympathy, our admiration or even our grudging dislike.

There are plenty of positives to take from Zulu Hart: the action itself, set at the battle of Isandlwana and the famous victory at Rorke’s Drift that followed, is well realised and Hart is in the thick of the fighting for much of the time. David made his name writing history about the Zulus, and clearly knows his stuff – though I wonder whether moving Hart in to a different milieu for his next adventure might not be a bad thing. In summary, Zulu Hart has all the classic ingredients for this type of adventure story – big battles, devious colonels, a noble but unlucky hero and plucky private soldiers – but doesn’t quite mix them in the right proportions for a truly satisfying outcome. I shall be hoping for better from George Hart on his second outing.

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