Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

Freakonomics is certainly an interesting idea. An economist applies the principles of his field in order to analyse everyday situations. These situations are not what you would expect an economist to be concerned with, as they don’t specifically relate to money. Economist Levitt and his co-writer Dubner examine various topics such as cheating school teachers and good parenting as the whim takes them.

The problem with this book is that it never really lives up to its promise. This is supposed to be “the hidden side of everything” but all too often this side seems to be all too obvious. Take the chapter “Why do drug dealers still live with their moms?” for example. The preamble to the answer is very interesting. We get to hear about one of Levitt’s colleagues living day to day with crack dealers in Chicago; this is exciting and interesting storytelling. After a thorough analysis of the data, Levitt tells us that the big dealers at the top of the tree don’t pay the dealers on the street very much to peddle the product. Wow, I would never have guessed.

The book is also very repetitive. After reading the introduction, there is a distinct feeling of déjà vu in the first few chapters. My edition has an extra one hundred pages or so tacked onto the end that mostly just reprises the first two hundred pages. This final section of “bonus material” has quite an odd tone. At turns it is almost self apologetic, as if the authors know their book isn’t really that good, and at others self-laudatory. Levitt’s humility also seems a bit disingenuous; are we really to believe that “the most brilliant young economist in America” isn’t any good at maths?

On the plus side the book is very readable and at times entertaining. The authors have a logical view of life that is consistent and convincing. Unfortunately it is far from surprising. A nice distraction but there is certainly nothing very deep here. A good book to pick up in the airport.

The Punic Wars: Rome, Carthage, and the Struggle for the Mediterranean by Nigel Bagnall

I really enjoyed this very informative account of a conflict which helped to shape the world as we know it. The detail of the strategy (or lack of) pursued by Rome and Carthage is quite impressive. Bagnall also treats us to some excellent descriptions of the battles, particularly those in the second Punic war. Hannibal is of course a world famous figure but I am now much more able to appreciate how great Scipio Africanus was. If there is one criticism that I must make it is that there really isn’t enough description of the characters of the men involved. I realise that this is quite difficult with history as old as this but Bagnall only really allows himself to speculate on character in his epilogue (and then only by comparing Scipio Africanus and Hannibal). Non the less I’m happy I read this book and recommend it to anyone interested in Roman history.

The Soul of Battle: From Ancient Times to the Present Day, How Three Great Liberators Vanquished Tyranny by Victor Davis Hanson

I read this book a few years ago and I’m revisiting it after reading Tom Holland’s Persian Fire in order to remind myself what I already knew about ancient Greece, specifically Epaminodas. I recommend Hanson’s books. Why the West Has Won was good too although I’m still mulling over it’s basic premise some five years after reading it. I think his political views about the world today are pretty disgusting really but he’s an entertaining and readable author when it comes to more distant history

Daily Life in Ancient Rome by Jerome Carcopino

A fantastic snap-shot of life two-thousand years ago

Carcopino’s book is exactly what it says on the cover. The book is divided into two parts. The first deals with aspects of life general to all cities in history, such as buildings and streets, and social classes for example. The second part takes us through a typical day of a Roman citizen, and in doing so touches on the routines of rich and poor alike. Although functional, Carcopino’s work is never mundane, and remains highly readable even almost seventy years after its first publication.

In an introduction to an otherwise terrible book on the history of the world, the French historian Fernand Braudel gives some very wise advice on how history should be taught to young people. He says that first you have to hook them with the stories of the big figures such as Caesar and Alexander, and then after their interest has been piqued, you can teach history that focuses on more ordinary people. Carcopino, also a Frenchman and contemporary of Baudel, has written the latter kind of book, and while very readable and entertaining, I recommend that you get to know the big events of Rome’s history before delving into this book.

It is clear that Carcopino has an avid interest and respect for his subject. The beginning of the book has a lavish description of the Forum of Trajan that just drips with praise. The book contains immense detail, which really brings ancient Rome to life. This is created through the regular events of the city, reaching its height when Carcopino portrays the races in the Circus Maximus. As he describes the order and type of horses as they were reined to the chariots, one can almost hear the roar of the crowd in the background.

One thing that can get annoying with this type of book is when the writer unreservedly praises the Romans and ignores all the ridiculous, impractical or even pernicious aspects of their society. Carcopino never falls into this trap and is quite prepared to criticise where necessary. Through this criticism we get, among other things, a very absorbing account of the inadequacy of the Roman education system which acts as a balance to Carcopino’s fulsome praise in other areas.

Daily Life in Ancient Rome is certainly a product of its time. The writing can be rather sexist (prepare yourself before reading the section on Marriage, Woman and the Family) and it is clear that the writer has his own axe to grind. As the book continues Carcopino relates more and more aspects of Roman society to the rise of Christianity, but while it is clear that Carcopino is a Christian himself, this doesn’t detract from the interest of his argument. Carcopino describes the inadequacy of traditional Roman religion to satisfy the spiritual needs of the people and also discusses the influence of other religions that arrived in Rome from the East. During this argument Carcopino is prone to take a detour into what may not be thought of as daily life, but it is a fascinating and important discussion just the same. If you’ve ever wondered how Rome became Christian then this is a good book to read.

Like Goldsworthy’s superb The Roman Army at War, this is an excellent book for anyone who wants to know about the every day life people who were just as important to Rome as any Hadrian or Augustus.

How Late it Was, How Late by James Kelman

Grim yet compelling

This novel caused something of a stir when it won the booker prize in 1994 with one of the judges, Rabbi Julia Neuberger saying “Frankly, it’s crap.” It is not. How Late it Was, How Late is a wonderfully written and finely crafted piece of work.

The novel is a stream of conscious narrative about a small time crook called Sammy, who wakes up after being arrested and assaulted by police officers to find that he is blind. We follow Sammy as he struggles to deal with his new condition and put his life back together. The reader is locked inside the central character’s head and other people fade in and out as Sammy perceives them, some of them becoming more concrete than others. This would make an excellent radio play, with only the words of Sammy to guide us and occasional aural clues to his current situation.

While lacking the more fantastical elements, there are similarities with the work of Irving Welsh in that the narration and speech are delivered in Scottish dialect. This may put some readers off at first, but quickly becomes easy to understand and central to the creation of both the character of Sammy, and the atmosphere of the Glaswegian setting. Welsh and Kelman also share the stream of consciousness style.

Admittedly, How Late it Was, How Late is a bit of a shaggy dog’s tale. Nothing really much happens over the three hundred odd pages and the ending is inconclusive. Readers waiting to find some dramatic revelation about Sammy or the events behind his blindness will be disappointed. The pleasure here is in the recounting of the story in Sammy’s compelling voice. It is testament to Kelman’s skill that although often dealing with mundane aspects of life, and having few breaks in the text, the story rarely seems to lag

Sammy is a man to be found up and down the British Isles. He is worn out by the world, and struggling just to stay sane by relying on his personal brand of pessimistic philosophy. This is a common picture of disadvantaged life, of people who make their way through petty crime and from benefit cheque to benefit cheque, while relying on the prop of alcohol. Sammy is resolved to the idea that he cannot win and that he must savour his small victories when he can. As such then this novel is a picture of poverty in the late eighties and early nineties and perhaps belongs as much in the tradition of writing such as Robert Tressell’s The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists as anything written by Irving Welsh.

How Late it Was, How Late is clever and perceptive, well worth reading.

Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkewicz (translated by W.S. Kuniczak)

Life is too short for this Christian clap trap

(Photo by hoyasmeg)

Quo Vadis is a love story set in the ancient Rome of Nero’s time. Young patrician Marcus Vinicius falls for a girl named Ligia. Lust drives Vinicius to use his power and influence to have Ligia removed from a happy home and taken to him against her will. She runs away to live with fellow members of a new underground religion: Christianity. The narrative follows the efforts of Marcus to get Ligia back and in the process, becoming exposed and converted to the new faith.

The novel is terrible for many reasons. Historical inaccuracies and anachronisms abound, it is repetitive, unrealistic and the characters are one-dimensional. Above all Quo Vadis’ evangelism always gets in the way of the story.

With historical fiction, it can be pedantic to point out factual errors if there are only one or two over the course of a few hundred pages. In Quo Vadis however, they are so obvious they constantly yank the reader out of any suspension of disbelief. In the first few pages alone, Vinicius refers to an event that happened during the time when Drusus was emperor. The other character, Petronius, a noteworthy senator, listens attentively while neglecting to point out that there never was a Roman emperor by that name. Other mistakes occur every three or four pages or so, notably with the death of the most prominent Roman never to become emperor, Germanicus, being shifted all the way from Antioch in Syria to the imperial palace in Rome. The appendix states that Sienkiewicz went to great trouble to research his work by travelling to Rome itself. I would have thought that opening a few history books would have done him as much good.

Another factor which breaks the spell of being in ancient Rome is the anachronisms which litter the text. The most obvious is that it is doubtful that the Christians of this time would have used the cross as a symbol of their faith. Then we come to the speech of the characters, which to be fair is the fault of the translator rather than the author. Nevertheless when Vinicius asks Petronius to “check into” something it strikes an odd chord indeed.

Six-hundred pages of story are often the same scenes repeated again and again. The character Chilon visits Vinicius and Petronius on at least three occasions which could have been condensed into one. The characters’ constant introspections become boring too, with the same old thoughts going around and around. This is particularly true as Vinicius wrestles with his opinions of Christianity. Much of the time Sienkiewicz has his characters mapping out each probable course of action before actually doing anything, thus eliminating any tension or compulsion to read on.

Next we come to how unrealistic the story is. We are expected to believe that someone could not leave the city of Rome after dark. Sienkiewicz tells us that 10,000 people lived in Nero’s palace! Also, I realise that Vinicius and Petronius are supposed to be extremely wealthy men but I’m not sure even they could have afforded scores of slaves to go out day after day and scour the streets for a single young girl. When his slaves fail in conveying Ligia to him from the imperial palace, Vinicius kills one of them whom we are told helped to raise him, and has all the rest sold to work in quarries. Slaves were a valuable resource in this era and simply would not have been treated in this way.

The way that Vinicius treats his slaves is convenient for Sienkiewicz though. It slips neatly into the modern idea of the decadent and evil Roman, especially when this is juxtaposed to the pious and moral Christians. For a more blatant contrast of good and evil you’d have to look to the work of the brothers Grimm. All of the characters are one dimensional which, added to the repetition of scenes, just becomes boring.

Finally we come to the undisguised proselytising of the text. From chapter two onwards, when Pomponia states that she believes “in the one true God who is omnipotent and just,” the story descends into a simplistic sermon where Rome is corrupt and Christianity is innocent and good. This contrast is both unrealistic and insulting to the intelligence. Sienkiewicz projects the values of nineteenth century Christianity backwards almost two thousand years, with no thought or consideration that it would have been very different a few decades after the death of Christ.

Are there any good points to the novel? Well, not really. As someone who enjoys the period very much I tried to take pleasure in the story for what it was (the picture of a ridiculous singing and acting Nero was certainly entertaining). Unfortunately the faults in the writing often had me invoking the name of Christ, though not in the way Sienkiewicz intended.

If you must force yourself through this book, then do yourself a favour and afterwards read Gore Vidal’s Julian as an antidote.

Vespasian by Barbara Levick

An accomplished yet dry biography of a pivotal figure in the Roman Empire

Photo by mdcassano

Levick is nothing if not knowledgeable. She provides a complete picture of Vespasian’s life from birth to death, and tries to pin down his origins and family history. This latter task is not easy with someone who, unlike many other emperors, rose from a relatively obscure background to become arguably the most powerful man in the world.

Vespasian’s time in Britain, his leadership of the Roman forces during the Great Jewish Revolt and his actions during the Year of Four Emperors were the most dramatic periods of his life, and so inevitably receive the most attention. It is here though that Levick’s writing is at its worst, as it becomes barely more than a list of legions, dates and places. The reader has to frequently refer to the maps (which thankfully are plentiful) to keep abreast of things. Levick doesn’t do much to help with remembering or picturing the people involved in the events either. Names are introduced with little or no description, so it really becomes quite a task to recall who people are.

We learn about Vespasian’s reign after his bid for power in 69 A.D, but Levick is unable to make anything during this period of stabilisation stick in the mind. The one obviously fascinating part of this time, the building of the Colosseum, Levick skips over in a few paragraphs. The book picks up towards the end in the chapter about Vespasian’s sons. Levick does a good job of keeping the focus on Vespasian while briefly discussing the short reign of Titus, and that of the last of the dynasty, Domitian.

Levick seems to have great respect for Vespasian. While she points out that he was by no means the perfect emperor, she does credit him with ending the chaos caused by the Year of Four Emperors and paving the way for Trajan, who was to usher in Rome’s golden age.

I found Vespasian to be a better work than one of Levick’s other biographies Claudius in that it organises events chronologically. Claudius is such as difficult read because in choosing to write about themes such as “Law, Justice and the Stable Society”, Levick flits backwards and forwards, from one year to another. Thankfully with Vespasian the reader is able to get a much better sense of the shape of the reign. Despite this the book could hardly be described as enjoyable, with Levick seemingly going out of her way to make the text dense and awkward. One example of this is during her description of the Great Jewish Revolt, much of which is confused by her insistence on using the Jewish names of months; you are forced to break away from the prose and refer to a table in order to understand.

This biography is an important work as it is the only one available in English on Vespasian. Until someone with a more fluid style comes along to write another, I’m afraid that you’ll have to put up with Levick. If you have a strong interest in the Roman Empire, then Vespasian is worth a read but don’t expect to enjoy it very much.

Burr by Gore Vidal

An engrossing, entertaining and informative read

The best historical novels are often history lessons in disguise; in Burr we learn much about America as a new nation, desperate to be on a par with the European powers, and grabbing any opportunity for Empire. Vidal paints giants such as Washington and Jefferson with an irreverence which does much to bring them, and this era to life.

Almost every character is someone who really existed, and here Vidal shows his amazing talent for detail. Vidal’s narrator, Charlie Shuyler, is fictional, but even he is based on a figure of the day. Set in the 1830s in New York, Shuyler is interviewing and compiling the biography of Colonel Aaron Burr. Though in his late seventies, Burr seems to have the youth and energy of someone half his age. Burr’s life is fascinating; he fought in the American Revolution, became vice-president and also was embroiled in scandal after killing a political rival in a duel. Like a less comical version of MacDonald Fraser’s Flashman, he pretty much saw everything and is the vehicle for the story of the birth and initial growing pains of the USA.

Burr is a complex man, but he is not alone in this. With the possible exception of Andrew Jackson, not one of Vidal’s creations comes across as stereotypical. Key to this is that we see many of them change over time. Of note too is that while the book contains characters that arguably do villainous things, there are no clear villains or heroes.

Betrayal and honour are themes inevitably present in a story with politics at its core. The common perception of the founding fathers is of a group of men who strove to build a new and better world. Vidal makes it clear that things were no different then from today, as personal ambition and opportunism twisted any high ideals that may have been present in the politicians of the time.

Characters are the driving force in the book. While some may criticise him for a lack of plot, this is to miss a key feature of Vidal’s work. With events such as the revolutionary war and personalities as singular as James Wilkinson, there is little need to create artificial page turning scenarios. Vidal choodes to write about  people with such amazing lives, that their biographies are plot enough in themselves.

Vidal’s Burr is an eloquent man, able to recreate the speech of his long dead rivals and colleagues and this does much to enrich his prose who. Vidal takes great pleasure in words and through Burr he shares his interest and enthusiasm for language with the reader, as in this wonderful comment on Jefferson’s writing for example:

The dash is the sign of poor style. Jefferson used to hurl them like javelins across the page.

The America of this period is also vivid because of the great attention to detail. Vidal references personalities of the day such as Jeremy Bentham and has lots of others make cameo appearances. New inventions and ideas, like the swivel chair and the pseudo science of phrenology, pepper the story and help to immerse the reader in a world much removed from, but related to our own.

While I don’t think that Burr is Vidal’s finest work (try Julian or Creation first), it is still an amazing read. Best of all is that this is part of his Narratives of a Golden Age series. I can’t wait to get a hold of the next book Lincoln and be whisked away by Vidal again.

Perseverance is rewarded with this discussion of reading and assessment

Assessing Reading by J. Charles Alderson – Cambridge University Press

Assessing Reading is a look at the process of testing reading in a second language. Comprising of a review of past and current assessments of reading, the book also looks at how reading assessment might change in the future.

The book explores what reading is and how… go to TEFLorama to read more.

Ten Great Historical Novels

(Photo by tinyfroglet)

Historical fiction is probably my favourite genre. I love being able to immerse myself in another time and place, and if the author is able to tie in real historical figures then this enriches the experience. Sometimes I’ve found historical fiction to be a wonderful springboard into non-fictional history books and biographies (not long ago I had a distinct Napoleonic phase).

I make no claim that these ten novels in any way constitute a top ten, they are simply wonderful books.

Black Ajax by George MacDonald Fraser

Set in Regency England, this is the story of Tom Molineaux, an ex-plantation slave and the Black Ajax of the title. Molineaux is a larger than life figure with prodigious talents for eating, drinking and women. It’s his talent for boxing that puts him in demand however, as he travels across the Atlantic to eventually fight for the title of Champion of England.

Based on a real man, this is a wonderfully atmospheric story through the eyes of different narrators as we see Molineaux progress from a nobody, to top prize fighter, and finally washed-up slugger.

A Dead Man in Deptford by Anthony Burgess

The title of this novel refers to the playwright and contemporary of Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe, who died in a pub brawl in 1593 at the age of twenty-nine. A number of real figures turn up, such as Shakespeare himself in this story of espionage, homosexuality, poetry and murder.

The most fantastic thing about this book is the language, and as you might expect from the author of A Clockwork Orange, it takes a little getting used to.  Once you’re acquainted with the Elizabethan turn of phrase however, you find that it has really helped to whisk you back some four-hundred odd years.

The Discovery of Slowness by Sten Nadolny

The Discovery of Slowness is another novel which uses language to create a world different from the one you are used to; not so much in terms of historical period but in order to get you inside the head of the central character. A quirk of translation from the original German or not, I don’t know, but I do know that the predominance of simple sentences really creates the impression of a man out of step with the rest of society.

Nadolny describes John Franklin as an unusual character, who thinks and acts extremely slowly. At first destined to be a misfit, he manages to turn what seems to be a disability into a distinct advantage. His meticulous and deliberate nature impresses all around him and helps him to rise in his career as a Royal Navy officer and Arctic explorer. This is the story of a fascinating man with a remarkable career that took him to the ends of the earth.

The First Man in Rome by Colleen McCullough

If you like to be absorbed by a whole series of novels then this is the one for you. McCullough’s gargantuan task has been to fictionalise no less than the whole of the fall of the Roman Republic, from about 120BC to the final cataclysmic contest between Octavian (the future emperor Augustus) and Mark Anthony.

Here McCullough begins a pattern, of creating wonderfully believable and compelling characters out of figures who have been dead for more than two-thousand years. In the early novels, Sulla is a truly evil delight, but is only one in a cast of characters with whom we become intimately involved.

Based on meticulous research, there is the added bonus of a history lesson in events fundamental to the political and cultural landscape of the western world.

Imperium by Robert Harris

Another great novel based in the late Roman Republic is this story about the early life of Cicero, one of the foremost statesmen of the time. Here we get a different feel for the era from McCullough as the story is told from the viewpoint of Cicero’s faithful and indispensable slave Tiro. There are delicious portraits of famous figures, such as Caesar, who is  (I think accurately) portrayed as a scheming, unscrupulous opportunist. It’s nice to see that Harris has written a sequel Lustrum which will be out soon.

Creation by Gore Vidal

Where Gore Vidal and historical fiction are concerned then you’re spoilt for choice. For me, a true genius of the genre; period atmosphere, spot on characterisations, innovative narrative style, shifts in viewpoint – the man has it all. Whichever novel you pick up by this treasure of a writer you really can’t go wrong, but Creation is a fantastic place to start. Cyrus Spitama is a Persian ambassador to Athens in the fifth century BC who is dictating his life story to his nephew. This is a man who has met Socrates, Buddha and Confucius during his many and varied travels. A tall tale indeed, but one very well told, and on a scale rarely seen. Brilliant.

Baudolino by Umberto Eco

Another writer who has dipped his toe a few times into the historical fiction pond, is the Italian master Umberto Eco. Baudolino is set in the late twelfth century at the court of Frederick I Barbarossa of Germany. The wonderful thing about this novel is that it starts off in a recognisable world, but as the characters travel south to uncharted lands, veers off into the realm of fantasy. This fantasy is itself grounded in history, reflecting the bizarre tales that circulated Europe at that time about people in the rest of the world.

Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres

Louis de Bernieres is like a good Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He excels in whimsical ordinary people set against the dramatic backdrop of history. Unlike Marquez however, there is always a narrative thrust to the story and always a reason to read on. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin contains delightful characters that will pull at your emotions. If you love this book then don’t deprive yourself of the also excellent Birds Without Wings.

Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

Even if you don’t particularly enjoy historical fiction you’d be a fool to pass up the best novel by one of the world’s best writers today. Set in the mid nineteenth century on the border of the US and Mexico, and telling the tale of a gang of scalp hunters, this is McCarthy’s darkest work. McCarthy’s idiosyncratic style is something to behold, as is the unforgettable character of the Judge; the personification of cruelty and arrogance. “Whatever exists, whatever in creation exists without my knowledge, exists without my consent.” –  priceless.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

The daddy of them all. Don’t let the length of the work put you off.  Almost this entire novel is a remarkable work, and the part that you should skip comes neatly at the end, after all the storytelling is finished. Love, tragedy, treachery, social comment and a cast of thousands – it’s all here. Marvel at this groundbreaking and all encompassing masterpiece.