This is another in a long line of books that I recommend for the so-called “antifa” Trump-is-Hitler crowd. If only for the joy of reading a writer with more than a modicum of talent. Here’s a taste of that talent in the first sentence:
“Only the steady creaking of a flight of swans disturbed the silence, labouring low overheard with outstretched necks towards the sea.”
Even though it’s not a book about Hitler per se, he does get much more than a bit part, which is not how things start. It begins a world away from the Munich beer-hall putsch of 1923, but arrives there by quite a remarkable a tour de force of storytelling. But this is no biography; although Hughes places Hitler in his historical context. This is a writer bringing all his imagination to bear on a period in the life of the psychologically deformed leader of the Nazi Party. It also goes some way in making us think about the rise of socialist fascism, and how Germany in the 1920s and 30s bears little resemblance to the current state of American society, culture and politics.