Last night I started, and this morning I finished a book by James A. Michener called "Bridge at Andau". This one intrigued me right from the moment I bought it simply because it was a small, slim and unobtrusive book so unlike the brash and epic novels he usually wrote. As a writer who generally had a lot to say, I figured small was probably going to equal pithy. And it was.

This one is intended to be read as a documentary, not a cleverly definitive novel like "Chesapeake" or "Colorado". This one is about the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 and the closing pages of the book are written from the first person perspective of someone who witnessed the closing days.

Now, I've always been a history nut and I am damned sure that we were never taught anything about this one at school. And I think we should have been.

This book outlines the living conditions and constraints of a country enslaved by Communism, the lies told to them, the life denied them and the brutal measures used in the oppression of the people of Hungary. It tells of the beatings and the torture of those who would remain loyal to their country. It tells of the flight of tens of thousands people through the swamps at the bridge at Andau as they fled into Austria to escape the shelling and the shooting and the liklihood of sudden death.

It also vividly recounts the acts of death defying bravery committed by even young children in repelling a marauding war machine at the height of the Revolution as they destroyed Russian tanks with only petrol bombs and pieces of pipe.

It shows the might and the menace of the power that Russia held over the Eastern Bloc in the years following the second world war.

Not a lot has changed, really.

It was a damned good read.