The virtues and foibles of King James himself and the team of translators he commissioned are chronicled in honest detail. But between them these scholars produced a masterpiece of prose and poetry that worked lasting and profound changes in Britain and the English-speaking world.

The author's use of some technical words sent me to the dictionary frequently; he knows his stuff and he puts the reader to work, no doubt about it. But for anyone who loves the majesty and power of the KJV, this book is a worthy companion.

For once, the renaming of a British publication - the original was "Power and Glory" - was appropriate. Nicolson opens with the accession of King James I of England, but the VI of Scotland. This unusual transformation of a monarch brought about a new wave of stresses to a nation that had endured a succession of religious upheavals over the previous century. From Henry VIII's break with Rome, through an unmitigated Protestantism and sudden reversion to Roman Catholicism, to Elizabeth's long, waffling reign, the British welcomed a king they felt promised religious stability. They hadn't counted on James' unhappy years under Scots Presbyterian mentors. Nicolson's depiction of James is of a man almost obsessed with exercising power over religious matters. If not the subtle initiator, James certainly pounced on the idea of creating a "new" English Bible.

It was an era of Bible writing. The Douai had been recently produced by English Catholics in exile, while the very Presbyterians James loathed had imported Calvin's Geneva text enthusiastically. Anglicans had struggled with earlier English-language versions, from Tyndale through the half-century old Bishop's Bible. Having been smothered by the heavily annotated Geneva version, James was keen to have a "pure" text. Nicolson convenes, almost one at a time, the Translator committee to produce it. Calling them "a disparate lot" is but mildly descriptive. There were stern theologians, frowning at any challenge to episcopal prerogatives. Others were known to weep while delivering sermons. The Presbyterian presence, no matter how unwelcome in James' view, still had to be tolerated. The Geneva, as Nicolson notes repeatedly, is what came to the Western Hemisphere on the Mayflower.

However pedantic this book might have been in another's hands, Nicolson's characterisations elevate it to gripping reading. Lancelot Andrewes, the weeping pastor, takes centre stage as the chief Translator - James insisted on the capitalisation. Andrewes, along with most of the team, was driven by the notion of a monarch closely aligned with the church. No more backsliding to Rome! The Puritans, although not yet granted that appellation, wanted even stronger guarantees - bishops were the banana peels leading to papistry. Get them out! The tenor, ably captured by Nicolson, is a strong church under a strong king. Yet among the Translators was one entertaining the most seditious thought of all. Henry Savile, whose family would later found the London haberdashery locus, had travelled and read probably more widely than any of his colleagues. Describing him as "the most glamorous of the Translators", Nicolson also reveals that Savile harboured the idea of a nation without kings! Savile's experience kept him from the confines of holy orders, but his language capability was undeniable.

As the work begins, Nicolson is forced to reveal that almost nothing of the Translators' notes or exchanges has survived. Although they had access to a large compendium of works by Church Fathers and other commentators, no list of what they consulted is available. There are some personal journal entries in various locations - mostly uncovered by American researchers beavering away in dusty vaults. These, however, are but a tantalising sample. No record of submissions, disputations, arguments or reasons for resolutions are provided. Instead, we are given Nicolson's paean to the formal language of Jacobean England. His disparagement of more recent versions isn't even camouflaged scorn. He longs to return to the subject of his study, but what would be sacrificed to accomplish this end?

Although this is supposed to be a study of Jacobean times, there are a few gaps. The communication between Britain and the Continent, only touched on with Savile, had more impact than Nicolson grants. Explorers were widening the view of the world, which led many to wonder what the deity had been up to in those remote places. Within the British Isles, Savile was but a symptom. The rapid change of faiths led to serious questioning of long-standing dogmas. If religion could change so often and so dramatically, how could the deity tolerate it.

Nicolson ignores the growing tendency to question and the resulting emergence of "the village atheist" in Britain. As the most literate people, which Nicolson notes was increasing in this period, it was only logical that questions would increase. Nor does he see fit to note that the very effort the Translators made laid the foundation for an even greater upheaval in the Puritan Revolution and Cromwell. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]