I think if you are going to be called Rudy, Rudyard is a much better name than Rudolph.
Sigh. What to say about this one? In this story of two British “ne’re-do-wells” who attempt to create their own kingdom in Afghanistan can be found fodder for those who find Kipling jingoistic as well as those who find him to be shining the light on the evils of imperialism. But in either case I just didn’t care. I was perpetually confused by the protagonists’ dialect and the smattering of non-English words. In the best of circumstances I don’t much like books written in dialect, and in this case it took a much too hale and hearty tale and made it far more annoying.
The Verdict: I can appreciate this for what it is, but I didn’t enjoy it for one moment. I don’t see much Kipling in my future unless it comes in cake form.