Some summer reading notes: I read Steven Mithen, After the Ice (2003), by mistake. Somehow I thought it was about the development of the human species (homo this and homo that). Silly me: the development of the species takes place before the ice, while Mithen covers the period from about 20,000 to about 5,000 B.C. I particularly enjoyed the stuff about Western Asia, where I hope to spend some time later this Autumn, and in particular about Çatalhöyük in Turkey—a chilling story about a place . Mithen also introduced me to the “Younger Dryas,” a concept I had never heard of before. Prodigious piece of research, smoothly presented.
The read-aloud book for the summer at Chez Buce is T.E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom, (Anchor Reissue 1991) supplemented by John J. Mack’s A Prince of Our Disorder (Harvard UP Paperback 1998), a superb biography of Lawrence, worthwhile in its own right. I still can’t make up my mind about Lawrence: he is obviously some kind of head case, but it’s hard to put your finger on just what kind of head case it might be. Perhaps the best way to read it is as a study in leadership, and also on popular conceptions of the hero; Mack’s treatment of the “heroism” issue is particularly fine. Caution: Lawrence does wander on a bit. The style is a kind of mannered Edwardian, and there is at least one passage of really gruesome torture.
I also reread (or so I thought) David Fromkin’s A Peace to End All Peace (2d Reprint ed. 2001), about the Middle East and the Imperial Powers during and after World War I. I said “so I thought,” because I’m sure I read this book back around that fabled trip to Turkey 15 years ago—but an awful lot of it seems brand new this time. Perhaps the dominant theme here is the ignorant arrogance and presumption of the British, focused around the notion that the Arabs would just naturally welcome British rule. Not least interesting of many fascinating points is the insight on the relationship between T.E. Lawrence (again) and Winston Churchill. It has eerie resonance with the relationship in World War II between Churchill and the Scottish adventurer, Fitzroy MacLean. MacLean's Eastern Approaches (Reprint ed. 2003) is another imperial swashbuckler, fit to be bracketed with (but really not at all like) Seven Pillars.
I bought and started, and lost, and promptly bought again, Nicholas Oster’s extraordinary Empires of the World: A Language History of the World (2005). The jacket says that Ostler has “a working knowledge of twenty-six languages” along with “degrees from Oxford in University in Greek, Latin, philosophy and economics.” Aside from the sheer quiz-kid aspect, the practical relevance is that Ostler does better than anybody I ever knew in relating language and power: showing low language patterns shift, or do not shift, with patterns of politics.
My own language skills are derisory by comparison but I try to hack away at them. This summer I read Simenon’s Coup de Lune (2003) in French, and Silone’s Fontamara (Manchester UP n.d.) in Italian. In each case, the point is that the language is pretty simple (my copy of Fontamara is a school edition with nice notes). My late friend John, may he rest in peace, used to say that the problem with Simenon is that there is too much outmoded gangster argot. Could be: my French is weak enough I wouldn’t know.
For the exercise bike, I have a copy of the Joint Association of Classical Teachers New Testament Greek: A Reader, (2001). Once again, this is not as challenging as it might sound. The whole point of New Testament Greek is that it is easier than Classical Greek. And JACT has a ton of vocab notes. So I can limp through a good deal of with at least minimal success. I do keep a $10 King James Bible at the ready, and I must say it turns out to be a pretty serviceable trot. Got to be careful about flashing this stuff in coffee shops, though: can lead to unwanted conversations.
I’m not sure it counts as “reading” or not, but I must say I have been mesmerized by Will Eisner’s A Contract With God (2000), the hard-bound comic book epic of life in the Bronx in the 1930s. The pictures are riveting. I knew virtually nothing about comics before, but I can see why this guy is recognized as a master.
[My Amazon ad links at the moment include two other books I don’t discuss here: Van Creveld’s Rise and Decline of the State (1999), and Hammes’ Sling and the Stone (2004). They aren’t summertime reading because I read them last Spring. I’m hoping to pull together some thoughts on them for a separate post.]
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