Ever since I made the acquaintance of a certain Richard Sharpe, I have become unable to live without the adventures of 18th and 19th century military men. In an age when serving in the British Army could see you make landfall in India, the Caribbean, Europe, North America or Africa, the possibilities are extensive, and the many fascinating anachronisms of that same army – purchase of officers’ commissions, marching to war in bright red jackets, a hidebound adherence to tactical doctrines – are meat and drink to a good historical novelist. Hence upon spying the cover of The Blooding of Jack Absolute, it was a sure bet that sooner or later it would make its way to the top of the reading pile.

The Blooding of Jack Absolute is actually a prequel to the character’s debut, but if you haven’t read that, fear not, this stands very well on its own and is probably the right place to start. We first pick up Jack Absolute in his early life in Devon, living with his vile uncle and equally vile cousin Craster Absolute – and witness a tragic event which establishes for life the enmity between Jack and Craster, and thus has a significant bearing on all that follows.

We next find Jack in London, living with his actress mother and soldier father – quite the teenage rake, he is a boarder at Westminster School, in love with his young French tutor while simultaneously having a torrid affair with the (older) mistress of a leading politician. This life of  drinking and wenching with his friends is clearly not destined to last, and the discovery of his affair, along with the actions of his vile cousin, leads to intimidation, violence and ultimately an illegal duel. Jack and his father both have to get out of the country, and for Jack the best way to do that is a path he never wanted – the Army.

What follows are his adventures in the British campaign around Quebec in 1759, when Britain and France, with their respective native allies, battled for mastery of Canada. By virtue of being a King’s Messenger, a cavalryman detached from his regiment, Humphreys can put Jack both where the decisions are made, with the generals, and in the thick of the action, without stretching the bounds of credibility – and when a foolish one-man cavalry charge leads to his capture by Native Americans, the most demanding part of his adventure is only just beginning.

Jack Absolute is a likable hero, and his adventures are well-paced and exciting, without being extravagantly outlandish. There are some lovely touches in this book – while living wild, with only an escaped Native American slave, Ate, for company, the only book Jack has is a copy of Hamlet his mother gave him. Jack teaches Ate to read and write English, but ends up with a friend who is  prone to quote the Danish Prince at any opportunity. Fans of the Sharpe series will find much to like, although Jack Absolute is a better bred hero than Richard Sharpe and just once in a while can be quite hard to sympathise with; anyone who read Zulu Hart and found it a tad disappointing may discover that this is a much better example of the “young rake makes his mark in the British Army” novel, and I shall certainly be following the further adventures of Jack Absolute with great enjoyment.

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