For students caught in the modern academic web, The Dark Valley must come as a shock. Rather than exhibiting the growing specialisation of the average university course, Piers Brandon has writ his history large, covering no less than seven countries throughout an entire decade. The time-span might seem small, but to have mastered the internal politics of each country, let-alone the thickly entangled links between them, is surely worthy of a professorship. The result is a book which guides the reader through the world in the 1930's, introducing us to the proud and buoyant twenties before plunging us into depression, economic desperation, social chaos and, finally, war.

Brandon deals with his subject matter perfectly, dividing his chapters by theme - usually a country, but occasionally events such as the Nazi-Soviet Pact - while maintaining his threads throughout. However, 'panorama' is a far better subtitle than 'history' because the vast scope of Brandon's work has affected the content greatly. With regards to specific countries or events, there is no great depth, as The Dark Valley sacrifices full internal dynamics for a better overall picture; students wanting minute details will be disappointed. In contrast, the sheer breadth of knowledge and genuine world-wide sweep encompasses far more than the average monograph, as Brendon takes us through Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Russia, Japan and the US, with an interval on Spain.

Consequently, Brendon displays the differing reactions of the world's major countries to depression and social pressures side by side, prompting comparisons and conclusions that will surprise many. He also focuses on the general political and social constitution of each nation with a precision bereft of obfuscations such as patriotism or cultural superiority. This balance - basing worldwide changes firmly in their local roots - strengthens the text immeasurably. Some authors transform global systems into abstract patterns, others ignore anything outside the nation-state, but Brendon skips perfectly across the middle-ground. In short, specialists won't find much of interest on their own subject, but they will find The Dark Valley invaluable in providing overall context, while everyone else will be over-awed at seeing national histories - which will henceforth seem like fragments - assembled in so complete a manner.

Brendon's style has been richly praised, but I felt some compliments were unwarranted. The text is consistently smooth, highly eloquent and sprinkled with a diverse mix of cultural references, but the oft-advertised humour was lacking. Equally, Brendon's characterisation may be swift and stylish, but his use of cigarette brands to reveal personality is increasingly dated and baffling to many readers. Likewise, the early chapters are rich with a 'dark' symbolism, but the author tries too hard to force this onto the history and fortunately lets the subject drop until the final page. Conversely, each chapter ends with a skillful link to the next, the quotes are well chosen, and his method of summarising events and places is excellent. Some readers may find the references to the apocalypse and hell unwarranted, but many others will consider them perfect.

A recipient of massive acclaim, The Dark Valley swiftly entered the pantheon of modern history greats, those rare books combining quality scholarship, popular appeal and excellent sales. It's hard to fault such an achievement, because even if you completely disagree with the overall sweep of Brendon's arguments and his presentation of the material - section headings such as 'Into The Abyss' and 'Chasm' reinforce the sense of a world plunging into catastrophe, a situation which Brendon doesn't entirely disprove as an anachronism - the standard of analysis, assemblage of material and scale of vision cannot be faulted, let alone the author's mammoth ambition. As historians increasingly devote themselves to niches of time and space, The Dark Valley provides a proud example of why the grand history - or panorama - remains a valid form of historiographical expression.

A note on endnotes: the older I get the more irritating I find the endnote, a method of referencing which seems designed to punish interested readers. However, I wholly support The Dark Valley's decision to use them, as Brendon's copious notation is free of the tangential discussions which so often occupy footnotes (sometimes underpinning a text), and they would genuinely have caused great disruption. Indeed, their size, sharply literary nature and grouping at the end of the book - as opposed to each chapter - transforms them into a quasi-bibliography of great depth.