The Far Edges of the Known World
This book is right up my alley. Really old stuff, questioning received wisdom, drawing together both evidence that has been known for ages and new discoveries via archaeology… and engagingly written as well. I enjoyed it immensely.
Rees starts with the poet Ovid, who for some unknown reason got exiled by that Great Bastion of Reason, Octavian Who Got Himself Called Augustus (“Illustrious One”). Basically for the rest of his life – as far as we can tell – Ovid spent his time complaining and petitioning to be allowed back to the Centre Of Life and Light, Rome. Now, firstly this does give us David Malouf’s quite fabulous An Imaginary Life, so that’s a good thing. But it also deeply colours how subsequent historians have thought about “the edges” – those bits where if there’s a bright centre to the universe, you’re in the town that it’s farthest from. And as Owen Rees shows, this is just not a fair way of characterising “the edges” at all. Not least because “edges” implies a centre, and (the centre of a galaxy being a real thing notwithstanding), the idea that there is a “centre” to “civilisation” brings up SO MANY QUESTIONS.
The first section is about pre-history – which is a concept that Rees takes pains to explore as a concept – and it looks at Lake Turkana in Kenya (some of the earliest human occupation), the Great Cataract in Sudan, and Megiddo in Israel. This section was absolutely enchanting and sets up a lot of the ideas followed in the rest of the book: contact between different areas, the sorts of evidence we can use, and so on.
Section 2 looks at the Greek world, and Section 3 looks at the Roman. So we get the expected ‘edges’: ancient towns in (what is now) Ukraine, Egypt, France, and England, Morocco, and Egypt. This was the bit that was most familiar to me – because I know about these empires – and which was therefore the most fascinating, because it complicated all of that so fantastically. The cross-fertilisation between the hegemonic empire and the ‘barbarians’ on the border, what we can figure out of how people interacted: I LOVE IT.
Finally, the last section is ‘Beyond the Classical World’ – the book is really aiming at a specifically English, maybe American, audience, those people who are very firmly in the “Greece and Rome are THE ancient areas and everywhere else is weird.” I suspect folks who come from a perspective that says India and China were really important – let alone other civilisations – will find some of the sentences a bit surprising, maybe borderline patronising, because there’s a little bit of “these other civilisations also existed!” I suspect this does not actually reflect Rees’ own perspective, but the expected audience. ANYWAY, this section looks at ancient towns in Ukraine, Pakistan, Vietnam, and Ethiopia and Eritrea. This section was really cool and MUCH more unknown for me.
I guess the short version is “I learned a lot and enjoyed doing it.”
The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World
I received this book to review at no cost, from the publisher Hachette. It’s out now (trade paperback, $34.99).
As someone who has been keen on ancient history since forever, of course I was intrigued by a new book on the seven ancient wonders. And I’ve also read other work by Hughes, and enjoyed it, so that made me doubly intrigued.
Before I get into the book: of course there is controversy over this list. Hughes acknowledges that, and goes into quite a lot of detail about how the ‘canonical’ list came about – the first surviving mention of such a list, why lists were made, what other ‘wonders’ appeared on such lists in the ancient world of Greece and Rome, as well as what other monuments could be put on such a list were it made today. I appreciated this aspect a lot: it would have been easy to simply run with “the list everyone knows” (where ‘everyone’ is… you know), but she doesn’t. She puts it in context, and that’s an excellent thing.
In fact, context is the aspect of this book that I enjoyed the most. For each of the Wonders, Hughes discusses the geographical context – then and now; and the political, social, and religious contexts that enabled them to be made. This is pretty much what I was hoping for without realising it. And then she also talks about how people have reacted to, and riffed on, each of the Wonders since their construction, which is also a hugely important aspect of their continuing existence on the list.
- The Pyramids: the discussion of the exploration inside, by modern archaeologists, was particularly fascinating.
- The Hanging Gardens of Babylon: the discussion of whether they even existed, and if so where, and what ‘hanging’ actually meant, was intriguing.
- Temple of Artemis: I had no idea how big the structure was.
- Statue of Olympia: I had NO idea how big this allegedly was.
- Mausoleum of Halikarnassos: NOT HELLENIC! Did not know that.
- Colossus of Rhodes: also had no idea how big it allegedly was, nor the discussion around its placement.
The Eagle and the Lion: Rome, Persia, and an Unwinnable Conflict
I read this thanks to NetGalley and the publisher, Apollo. It’s out now.
Some time back I read a book about the Mongolians, in particular at the western edges of their advance, and how those kingdoms related to what I know as the Crusader States. It completely blew my mind because I’ve read a bit about the ‘Crusades’ general era, and that book made me realise just how western-focussed my understanding had been: the invading Europeans connecting back to Europe and maybe Egypt (thanks to Saladin); maybe you’d hear about the Golden Horde occasionally. But interacting with the Mongols was HUGELY important.
This book does a similar thing for Rome. My focus has always been on the Republic and early principate, so maybe that has had an influence. But in my reading, Crassus’ loss at Carrhae is present but (at least in my hazy memory of what I’ve read), it’s almost like Parthia comes out of nowhere to inflict this defeat. Persia then looms as the Big Bad, but I think that dealing with the Germanic tribes and the Goths etc seem to take a lot more space. Even for the eastern empire, which is definitely not my forte, regaining Italy etc and fighting west and north (and internally) seems to get more attention.
And then you read a book like this. It is, of course, heavily leaning in the other direction; that’s the entire point, to start redressing some of the UNbalance that otherwise exists. These two empires could be seen as, and describe themselves as, the “two eyes” or “two lanterns” of the world (those are Persian descriptions); for basically their entire collective existence they were the two largest empires in this area (China probably rivalled them at least at some points, but although there were tenuous commercial connections, they’re really not interacting in similar spheres). It makes sense that the relationship between them, and how they navigated that relationship, should be a key part of understanding those two empires.
Goldsworthy does an excellent job of pointing out the limitations in ALL of the sources – Greco-Roman, Parthian, Persian – and clearly pointing out where things could do with a lot more clarity, but the information just doesn’t exist. Within that, he’s done a really wonderful job at illuminating a lot of the interactions between Rome and Parthia/Persia. And he also clearly points out where he’s skipping over bits for the sake of brevity, which I deeply appreciate in such a book.
It’s not the most straightforward history book of the era. It covers 700 years or so, so there’s a lot of dates, and a lot changes in this time as well – republic to principate to later empire, for Rome; Parthian to Persian; countless civil wars on both sides. A lot of leaders with the same or similar names, unfamiliar places names, and all of those things that go towards this sort of history book requiring that bit more attention. I definitely wouldn’t recommend this as My First Roman History Book! But if you’re already in the period and/or area, I think this is an excellent addition to the historiography. Very enjoyable.
Dating Aphrodite
I found this book in a secondhand shop, in the travel writing section, when I was well in the mood for reading travel narratives. I figured a travel book that also discussed ancient history and mythology would be right up my alley. Unfortunately, the shop and the blurb are both a bit misleading: while Slattery does include some travel as part of the book, this is much more about having adventures in reading and thinking about ‘the ancient world’ rather than the travel itself. So that was one disappointment.
Overall, I think I mostly enjoyed the book. As that statement suggests, I am ambivalent – was while reading, still am. On the one hand, the cover irks me. It’s so … unnecessary. I assume part of the point is to make the mythology and history seem more real, vibrant, and let’s face it alluring, than might otherwise be supposed. But the original sculptor was already all about the male gaze and sexualising the statue; adding the tan lines feels gratuitous. And then there’s the fact that half her face is chopped off! There’s also the fact that Slattery’s whole purpose is to extol the benefits of reading ‘the classics’ and that access to such things should be available to all (in opposition to the old English-style curriculum where only toffy boys got access to Latin and Ancient Greek). In theory I have no problem with teaching about Stoicism and so on. But the problem starts when you then move further along that line and suggest it’s the only history worth knowing. Slattery doesn’t do that, but it’s a not hard to take his arguments and get to that point. It is, of course, largely male-dominated… unless you’re talking about Aphrodite, or throw in a brief reference to Sappho or Penelope.
I did not, though, hate the book. There were some really interesting bits! I liked the discussion of Apollo and Delphi and Pythia and Dionysus – although I feel Slattery missed an opportunity in not discussing the possible origins of Apollo and Dionysus, given Apollo is thought to have originated as an Eastern god, and Dionysus as more solidly home-grown ‘Greek’ (for all the problems with that word in the ancient world). The chapter about Ithaca was probably my favourite because it conformed most to what I was expecting, and wanting at the time: Slattery on Ithaca itself, and musing on The Odyssey, and the archaeological evidence for Odysseus on Ithaca, and how modern inhabitants feel about it.
I feel that this book probably only works for someone with at least some basic knowledge of Greek myth – although maybe I’m wrong, and Slattery explains things well enough for the complete novice. My knowledge of Stoicism and Epicurean ideas has never been that thorough and he does explain those in a way that I could understand.
As well, the book’s only 15 years old but I’m just not sure that it would get published today – in fact I was surprised to see that it came out in 2005, because it felt… older. And I think the lack of women has a lot to do with that. Plus, Slattery makes a case that the ancient Greek world had many things we value today – religious tolerance, being cosmopolitan, what he calls “Homeric impartiality” (the fact Hektor is the greatest hero in The Iliad despite not being Greek, and I am completely unconvinced about this demonstrating impartiality). Therefore, “we” can learn from the classics. I am unconvinced, even after reading the book, that that’s true. Partly because of the completely different contexts, and partly for vaguer feelings that this logic just doesn’t quite follow.
Randomly Yours, Alex 