This is a a very special book for people of "a certain age." I'm not at all sure that anyone under fifty would really appreciate its richness in conjuring up a life lived at the turn of the century -- Ransome was born in the 1880s -- by a nearsighted young English lad consumed with the idea that he was destined to become a writer. His incredible understated oddessy includes being at ground zero during the Russian revolution -- knowing all the major characters including Lenin and Trotsky -- learning to sail in fair weather and foul, and living a life of real hardship to becoming a celebrated author of one of the best series of children's books ever written -- The Swallows & Amazon books. His narration of the "Bohemian Life" of his day, the cast of characters of noted literary and political figures, his comments on what it meant to be educated in his world and time, made the book, for me, a vivid portrait of a world and value system that has, I fear, gone with the wind. A fine read.

This book goes beyond the contemporary stereotypes that go with the legacy of JFK. The author deals with the subject of the life and times of President Kennedy in a way that is sure to interest both the academic and casual reader.

I can't pretend to have read the whole book, but instead it was used as a reference to an essay that I wrote on the Declaration of Independence. I quote: 'For the preamble, in the name of the people, denies that the strong may legitimately oppress the weak; and asserts that all men and women, whatever their age, condition or origins; shall not be cheated of their birthright into misery; that this theme, of human freedom of dignity, is what politics is about.'

Magnanimous, stirring stuff, I agree. But completely false. It does not assert that all men and women are equal, it asserts that all men are created equal, and this is meant only in the tersest of terms, for it can mean equality only in life, when one considers the immense differences in wealth; not in liberty or the pursuit of happiness. It does not count slaves as men, nor does it state that the slave trade is wrong, as the good delegates of South Carolina and Georgia still wanted to practise it, and thus it was deleted from the draft of the document. Jefferson, author of the declaration, owned hundreds of slaves.

History is written by the winners, but it should be down to future generations to judge its accuracy. Hugh Brogan does the facts a disservice in this book, and it disappoints me that others rate it so highly.

But then I am English, and perhaps I'm just annoyed we lost the war.

Just adding to previous comments to emphasize the accessibility of this book to the general reader. Brogan's anecdotal style lends itself to a sustained interest, or at least it did in my case. The best example I remember is the story about Ulysses S. Grant who, on being informed that a new Confederate General had declared that his 'headquarters would be in the saddle' until Grant was defeated, responded that it sounded like a better place for the hindquarters to him.

One of the things Americans are surprisingly good at - far better than most of the world realises - is a sense of their own history. Of course the popular understanding of the past is a bit one-sided. After all most history gets written by the winners, which means that the losers are all too often made to look like natural losers or bad guys (or both!). Nevertheless, most modern Americans get the point of the Revolutionary War, the War Between the States, the Constitution, Emancipation and so on.

Things are not as transparent here in Britain. Most Brits today have only the most tenuous grasp of their own history, let alone anybody else's. Other than on the fantasy level, there is no personal involvement or commitment or even any real sense of continuity with the nation's past. Of course in one sense Britain is obsessed with history, but it is not the history of folks like you and me. Medieval aristocracy and castles may have a superficial romantic appeal, but to 95% of the UK population they are Other People's History. The pivotal events of national history: Magna Carta, Reformation, Commonwealth, Restoration, Glorious Revolution ....the list goes on and on.... are unheard of by most Britons let alone understood.

If this is Britain's attitude to its own history, what will be its attitude to the history of that Great Embarrassment, the lost Atlantic empire? The answer is that America is the Bermuda Triangle of British school history, the great silent factor, the missing key to understanding every era of Britain's past since the late 16th century. And of course this generates a vicious circle: Little wonder that Britain does not understand itself (and for the record, I write as a Briton), when one of the key factors that would give coherent sense to the last four centuries is a no-go area, a field ring-fenced against popular awareness through systematic neglect by educationalists and popular publishing houses.

Hugh Brogan's engrossing historical overview of America's past, from pre-history through to about 1990, has the best chance imaginable of changing this fossilised attitude. And it's a timely contribution to our understanding of the complex and threatening modern world that will be of as much value to America as it is to Britain. For a start, the book is readable. Brogan's academic credentials are impeccable, and yet unlike many academics he writes with grace, wit and considerable passion. While rarely short-changing the reader on hard facts, he never lets facts obscure the thread of the story, and that is all-important, because unless we see how one thing leads to another we will have nothing to contemplate but a bunch of meaningless facts. From the British viewpoint this is invaluable, because Brogan shows how Britain itself has been shaped by its transatlantic engagements at every key stage since the dawn of its own modern nationhood.

But Britain is a side-issue. Far more importantly, Brogan has done for the United States what only a warmly sympathetic outsider can do for any country. It needs both commitment and detachment in equal parts to sketch out the key events of a nation's history (and explain their meaning) free from the agenda that everyone has when they have grown up in a country and lived its internal political and economic tensions first hand. Apart from a generally liberal worldview, Brogan has no material bias: He has no wish to perpetuate the socially divisive myths that older generations have grown up with, and yet equally no wish to tear down the essential beauties of the American dream. In short he is socially, politically and economically uninvolved, but he is nevertheless caring and deeply attached to his subject, and he is not afraid to say what he thinks.

Thus whether you are American or not, this book is the ideal starting point for an honest investigation of America's - and therefore a helpful key to understanding its present.