THE TYRANNICIDE BRIEF (Geoffrey Robertson) Book Review

No doubt the fault lies with me, but I have never found a book about the English Civil War that has managed to hold my interest for very long . . . until now. Geoffrey Robertson's 2005 book, The Tyrannicide Brief, enables the reader to gain an understanding of the causes and complexities of those most turbulent of times. By telling the story of one man's personal and critical involvement in the trial of Charles I, Robertson has provided not only the detailed backdrop of the dramatic conflict between Parliament and King but also a disturbing insight into the darker aspects of human nature.

John Cooke was the lawyer who accepted the brief to prosecute Charles I at his trial in 1649. Cooke took on this huge responsibility when other men of his profession were literally hiding in their chambers in fear of the potential consequences of such an undertaking. Eleven years later, with Cromwell dead and and the members of the 'cause' left rudderless and badly divided, Charles II was put on the throne. England again became a monarchy, and John Cooke was to pay the ultimate price for his efforts. The new king ruthlessly and vindictively set about rounding up all those deemed responsible for the execution of his father. Those who were subsequently brought to their mock trials became known as The Regicides. Their fate was sealed, and the author rightly spares us none of the gruesome details of the manner of their deaths at the hands of the appointed executioner. If England thought it had stepped into a more enlightened age, the hanging, drawing and quartering of the Regicides reminded everyone that plumbing the depths of depravity is not peculiar to any given era.

Times and opinions may change, but much of what makes the world of politics what it is does not. In this book, which deals with events that took place three and a half centuries ago, we find examples of behaviour and attitudes that are common enough today: the lust for power and the abuse of power; dogmatic conviction and calamitous intransigence; machiavellian mendacity and downright brute force. Thanks to the likes of John Cooke, there is also a large chunk of decency and courage.

A FREEWHEELIN' TIME (Suze Rotolo) Book Review

There is a warmth about this book that comes to its pages as naturally as a leaf falling from a tree. That is a rare gift, and all the more remarkable considering Suze Rotolo must have felt as if she was caught up in an emotional tempest of Shakespearean proportions during its creation.

A Freewheelin' Time is Rotolo's account of her personal memories of Greenwich Village in the early part of the nineteen-sixties. It was the era of the Folk Music revival, the defiant stand of the freedom-fighting artist . . . and the appalling thundercloud of impending doom that was the missile-crisis stand-off of superpowers playing toy soldiers with the rest of mankind. To be young then, as Suze Rotolo was, must have meant many things; to have met and fallen in love with a guy called Bob Dylan at the same time will probably take a lifetime to get into perspective.

There has been an awful lot written about Dylan throughout the years, with no doubt more to come. What is so refreshing and inspiring about this book (which is not, incidentally, all about Dylan) is the fact that Rotolo speaks with no bitterness, no animosity, no rancour, about a true romance that played itself out during the very months and years that Dylan developed his unique talents into something that even today cannot really be fully quantified. Just as there will only ever be one Shakespeare, one Dickens, one Muhammed Ali, there can only ever be one Bob Dylan . . . so do not wait for another.

Few partnerships can withstand the insanity of world-wide fame. Dylan was a difficult enough character as it was, but as his star rose to unprecedented heights the day-to-day realities of keeping a relationship on an even keel became too much. Rotolo, to her eternal credit, refrains from scattering blame around or complaining about what might or might not have been. She tells it like it was, there in the Village amongst the cast of brave, talented and oft-crazy one-offs; there in the Dylan circus, good and bad, happy and sad.

If you get a chance to read this book, please grab it. For this is more than a vibrant recollection of experiences of one of the most influential periods in twentieth-century culture. Herein lies an example of how to take the rough with the smooth, and let good intentions towards people always take preference over negative attitudes.

The book ends with a classic sentence about the sixties - one that people today would perhaps do well to take note of:

"The new generation causing all the fuss was not driven by the
market: we had something to say, not something to sell."