Maura (maura853) -
A disappointing account of an interesting subject. For anyone who will read anything Titanic-related, there might be enough here to keep you happy (perhaps, periodically throwing the book across the room in disgust. There are some pretty blatant factual errors, some claims that don't make sense, as well as some astonishingly poor writing and proofreading.)
If you are a Titanic-obsessive (like me), you will know that J. Bruce Ismay was the President of the White Star Line, the company that owned Titanic. Ismay would have been instrumental in pushing through major construction and equipment decisions, such as the shortage of lifeboats. (Ismay is on record as ordering the minimum allowed by law, as a full complement of lifeboats would have "cluttered up" the boat decks, spoiling the promenade space ...) A passenger on the ill-fated maiden voyage, Ismay had to live with accusations of cowardice for the rest of his life, after he secured for himself a place on a lifeboat while there were still over 1000 men, women and children left on the vessel, facing a horrible death. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, evidence suggests that he instructed the Captain to run Titanic at full speed, in spite of the ice warnings that had been received, and otherwise distracted and bullied the professionals.
Where Wilson really succeeds, in my opinion, is in convincing me that it's worth considering the facts of the disaster -- from construction of the vessel to the frustratingly weak investigations that followed its sinking -- from the perspective of Ismay's life, his family (he inherited the White Star business from his demanding and unsympathetic father), and his personality. This perspective not only adds an interesting dimension to information that has been well-know and discussed since Walter Lord's groundbreaking book, "A Night To Remember," but also brings out some details that have been lost in the background noise (for example, I knew Ismay had the final word about the number of lifeboats, but the added detail that he didn't want them cluttering up the decks raises it to a whole new level of stupid.) However, the book's authority is undermined by factual errors, of the sort that the most basic research (Wikipedia?) could have corrected. (For example, the iceberg did =not=, as the author claims, slice open a 300 foot gash in Titanic. Current wisdom is that the side-on impact with the 'berg, combined with a fire raging in the ship's coal bunkers, caused rivets to pop along the length of the ship. Did I mention that I'm a Titanic obsessive?)
My theory is that the author wasn't really interested in Titanic. I don't think she was really that interested in Bruce Ismay. As you read on, you discover that this is actually a book about Joseph Conrad's 1899 novel "Lord Jim." For Wilson, Ismay is the real-life embodiment of the ill-fated title character, a mariner who has to live with loss of honor and status, and a crushing awareness of his own failings as a human being, because of the poor choice he makes to abandon a sinking ship (and its 800 helpless passengers).
It's an interesting enough angle: Conrad's disgraced character, and the circumstances that lead to his disgrace, have enough parallels with Ismay for a nice, "spooky" convergence with reality. And Conrad's insights into the way that the threat of death can strip us of our noble, heroic assumptions about ourselves are well-worth considering. But Wilson hammers away at it, using the "Lord Jim" coincidence far more than it really can bear, and using it in place of real analysis. (Why did Ismay jump on a lifeboat? Why, because he was just like Jim, of course. How did he try to explain himself in the aftermath? Well, Jim said ... How did he live with the disgrace? Well, the way Jim handled it ...) Instead of being an interesting "grace note" in Wilson's analysis, she uses it in place of real analysis.
Bruce Ismay was, I think, many things: deeply pathetic. A victim of his own poor upbringing, lack of imagination, and inflated assumptions about his place in the world. Whether any of us would have behaved better than he did, we can never know: not unless we have stood on the deck of a rapidly sinking ship, filled with frightened people, and watched a lifeboat with one empty space being lowered in front of us. So whatever his sins, Bruce Ismay at least deserves to be understood, rather than judged. And I'm afraid this book is a limited step toward that understanding.
If you are a Titanic-obsessive (like me), you will know that J. Bruce Ismay was the President of the White Star Line, the company that owned Titanic. Ismay would have been instrumental in pushing through major construction and equipment decisions, such as the shortage of lifeboats. (Ismay is on record as ordering the minimum allowed by law, as a full complement of lifeboats would have "cluttered up" the boat decks, spoiling the promenade space ...) A passenger on the ill-fated maiden voyage, Ismay had to live with accusations of cowardice for the rest of his life, after he secured for himself a place on a lifeboat while there were still over 1000 men, women and children left on the vessel, facing a horrible death. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, evidence suggests that he instructed the Captain to run Titanic at full speed, in spite of the ice warnings that had been received, and otherwise distracted and bullied the professionals.
Where Wilson really succeeds, in my opinion, is in convincing me that it's worth considering the facts of the disaster -- from construction of the vessel to the frustratingly weak investigations that followed its sinking -- from the perspective of Ismay's life, his family (he inherited the White Star business from his demanding and unsympathetic father), and his personality. This perspective not only adds an interesting dimension to information that has been well-know and discussed since Walter Lord's groundbreaking book, "A Night To Remember," but also brings out some details that have been lost in the background noise (for example, I knew Ismay had the final word about the number of lifeboats, but the added detail that he didn't want them cluttering up the decks raises it to a whole new level of stupid.) However, the book's authority is undermined by factual errors, of the sort that the most basic research (Wikipedia?) could have corrected. (For example, the iceberg did =not=, as the author claims, slice open a 300 foot gash in Titanic. Current wisdom is that the side-on impact with the 'berg, combined with a fire raging in the ship's coal bunkers, caused rivets to pop along the length of the ship. Did I mention that I'm a Titanic obsessive?)
My theory is that the author wasn't really interested in Titanic. I don't think she was really that interested in Bruce Ismay. As you read on, you discover that this is actually a book about Joseph Conrad's 1899 novel "Lord Jim." For Wilson, Ismay is the real-life embodiment of the ill-fated title character, a mariner who has to live with loss of honor and status, and a crushing awareness of his own failings as a human being, because of the poor choice he makes to abandon a sinking ship (and its 800 helpless passengers).
It's an interesting enough angle: Conrad's disgraced character, and the circumstances that lead to his disgrace, have enough parallels with Ismay for a nice, "spooky" convergence with reality. And Conrad's insights into the way that the threat of death can strip us of our noble, heroic assumptions about ourselves are well-worth considering. But Wilson hammers away at it, using the "Lord Jim" coincidence far more than it really can bear, and using it in place of real analysis. (Why did Ismay jump on a lifeboat? Why, because he was just like Jim, of course. How did he try to explain himself in the aftermath? Well, Jim said ... How did he live with the disgrace? Well, the way Jim handled it ...) Instead of being an interesting "grace note" in Wilson's analysis, she uses it in place of real analysis.
Bruce Ismay was, I think, many things: deeply pathetic. A victim of his own poor upbringing, lack of imagination, and inflated assumptions about his place in the world. Whether any of us would have behaved better than he did, we can never know: not unless we have stood on the deck of a rapidly sinking ship, filled with frightened people, and watched a lifeboat with one empty space being lowered in front of us. So whatever his sins, Bruce Ismay at least deserves to be understood, rather than judged. And I'm afraid this book is a limited step toward that understanding.
