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.

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.

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.

Tiberius by Robin Seager

As part of the research for the novel I am working on, I’ve been re-reading selected parts of a wonderful biography of the Roman Emperor Tiberius by Robin Seager.

Seager does amazingly well with his subject which is now almost two thousand years old. As with many biographers of Roman figures, Seager is obviously challenged by the scarcity of material available to him but manages to construct a pretty complete narrative.

For many, Tiberius is not the most interesting of the Emperors, especially when compared Caligula or Nero. Seager however, manages to make Tiberius a fascinating figure. He shows Tiberius possessing high ideals, succumbing to paranoia and cruelty, and eventually damaging the political structure of the Empire he did much to protect as a younger man.

In particular I’ve been re-reading the section on Sejanus; the praetorian prefect who climbed almost to the pinnacle of the Roman world through deception and murder, before finally being strangled and thrown to the mob. Seager pulls together all the threads of the Sejanus narrative wonderfully. Admitting that there are no extant sources for the crucial year 30 AD, when Sejanus fell from power, he nevertheless tries to speculate on likely events. Seager is forced to do this at other points too, such as the death of Germanicus, and in each case he helps you to contemplate for yourself what actually happened.

While the prose lags at times and Seager’s style is not always the most readable, this is still a great book for anyone interested in the Roman Empire.

First-rate biography from Everitt

Cicero – The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician by Anthony Everitt

Although I’m not sure that he deserves the title of Rome’s greatest politician, (an accolade that surely must go to Julius Caesar) Cicero was definitely one of the greatest Romans. His influence on our world can still be felt today, and so a knowledge of his life and work are essential, not just for those of us interested in the history of Rome. If you don’t know anything about Cicero, or even late Republican Rome, then the best place for you to start is here with Everitt’s marvelous biography.

The ease of Everitt’s prose makes this a five star book. There are plenty of Roman histories and biographies around that seem to delight in using pompous and murky language, obscuring players and events inside paragraphs that go on for page after page. Not so here. It is clear that Everitt derives satisfaction from making events that took place over two thousand years ago very easy to understand. He does a particularly good job when describing the movements and machinations of the various factions after the death of Caesar. Everitt manages this clarity by avoiding over complicated vocabulary and sentence structure, while also reining the prose into short focused segments, dealing with one or two important points at a time.

This period of Rome’s history abounds with amazing characters. Everitt does a great job of describing each of them in all their glory. Not only do we learn about Cicero himself but also such giants as Pompey, Brutus and of course Caesar. Although he covers a lot of people Everitt manages more than just broad brush strokes. Even in the case of Cato, the filibustering and awkward traditionalist who it is easy to dislike, various facets of character are presented. It really is a testament to Everitt’s writing that he is able to do this. Only in fictional works such as Robert Harris’s Imperium or Colleen McCullough’s Masters of Rome series is this usually done so well.

Cicero was a prolific writer, and we are lucky enough to still have much of his work. While his political speeches and also his philosophical works are informative, it is the letters between Cicero and his good friend Atticus that really give the lowdown on the state of the Republic at this time. Everitt uses all of this material to good effect and manages to make the few chapters dealing with Cicero the writer just as interesting as those on Cicero the politician. Everitt leaves you with the desire to read more of Cicero’s actual works, especially his attacks on Mark Anthony in the Philippics.

Everitt rounds off the book with a brilliant concluding chapter, neatly summing up the various aspects of Cicero’s character; his good points and failings, and also his worth to us today.

One odd thing about the book is the cover. I imagine a writer as knowledgeable as Everitt can’t be pleased with the choice of the Colosseum to front his work. While it is indeed a very dramatic building, it was built more than one hundred years after Cicero died, and for me represents the Roman Empire rather than the Republic Cicero strove so much to rescue.

This book leads brilliantly into Everitt’s biography of Augustus which is also excellent. I recommend getting them together and reading one after the other, which would cover more than one hundred years of world shaping history in an accessible and entertaining way. Read them in conjunction with Tom Holland’s Rubicon which is also fantastic.

It’s my pet project to read about as many prominent Romans as I can. I’ll certainly be reading Everitt’s biography of Hadrian when it comes out. I’d love to see what he would do with Marius and Sulla or perhaps even the Gracchi.

Taiwan’s amazing culture – Mazu’s birthday celebrations

 

When you come to Taiwan one thing that you really want to do is to check out the amazing temples here. These range from grandiose structures that dominate city blocks, right down to simple little shrines on the side of the road or on a mountain path. These places are central to life in Taiwan. Apart from the temples themselves and the ceremonies that take place within, it’s really easy to catch sight (and sound) of some of the amazing processions that move around to the clashing of symbols, banging of drums and tooting of horns. They really bring my neighbourhood to life.

 

This amazing photo  is from Mazu’s birthday celebrations in Da Jia, Taichung County. Mazu is the goddess of the sea who protects fishermen and sailors. Now I’m no expert on these matters but I know a man who is. This picture was taken by Fabian and you can see many more plus his insights into culture here in Taiwan at his site http://4fabian.multiply.com/

 

Fabian says: “The story of Mazu is an excellent example of both how gods are created from real people in Chinese popular religion, and of how once popularized, they are endorsed and elevated by the state.

Her original name was Lin Mo-niang (林默娘), and she was born in the year 960 C.E. as the daughter of a fisherman in Meizhou (梅州), on the coast of Fujian province. She never married, and died at the tender age of twenty-eight. These details are listed in the records of the Song Dynasty.  The finer details of her life are an inextricable mixture of folk lore and history.

Legend tells that one fine day, her father and brothers set out in their fishing boat to trawl the shores of Fujian for fresh fish. After several hours, the clouds darkened and churned in the sky, the seas began to swell, and before they had managed to return to the safety of the shore, their boat was caught in a murderous typhoon. Meanwhile, back in their fisherman’s cottage… (Go to http://4fabian.multiply.com/journal/item/9 to read more!)

Chauvinistic History

A history of Civilizations by Fernand Braudel

First of all I’m going to make an admission, not to be confused with an apology. I have not finished this book. I cannot bring myself to waste any more of my time. I am on page 140 and I cannot face the other four hundred or so. If, after 140 pages and a forty pages preface an author has not managed to interest me in some way, then he or she never will. This is an awful book; avoid it!

As its title suggests, this book is supposed to be an overview of the history of civilizations on our planet. It was intended that it be studied by French high school students, but it is hard to see how any history teacher would have got out of his classroom alive should he have used this coma inducing rubbish.

To be fair, the book probably suffers much in translation. The prose is tough going and plods along, giving information in the least direct way. Having said this, the introduction is interesting. Braudel’s theories on how to interest children in history are worth a read. After this it is all downhill.

As the book was first published in 1963 one would expected it to be a little outdated; it certainly is this as well as Eurocentric and chauvinistic. The first two sections deal with Islam and Africa and towards both Braudel assumes the air of a benevolent school teacher, trying to encourage his students to do better. If only these two areas of the world could make some changes, then they too could come up to the level of the star pupil (the West). You can almost hear the resignation and pity in Braudel’s voice.

Braudel makes lots of statements for which he offers no supporting evidence. Byzantium was beaten from within? If that’s your opinion, fine, but don’t offer it as fact and then move onto your next point without so much as a justifying sentence.

There are many books available that claim to be an overview of the history of civilization. They all suffer from the same problem: having to cover too much ground for any person, era or place to make an impression. Braudel’s book is no exception.

If you are inclined to read a book of this type go for the similarly titled Civilizations by Felipe Fernandez-Armesto. Its prose has much more verve and it is more up to date.

A solid account of one of Ancient Rome’s most interesting periods

69 A.D. The Year of the Four Emperors by Gwyn Morgan

Morgan’s book is really the story of five emperors as it inevitably has to start with the suicide of Nero and the fall of the Julio-Claudian dynasty before moving on to Galba, Otho, Vitellius and Vespasian. Morgan does a good job of bringing to life these long dead men who, with the exception of Vespasian, held onto Rome’s reins of power for such a brief time.

Plutarch said that in these civil wars, the troops led and the generals followed. Morgan disagrees, but after reading this account it’s hard not to have some sympathy with Plutarch’s view. This is an account moving from the last months of Nero in 68 A.D. to Vespasian’s forces securing power in December 69 A.D; a period of 18 months. We are treated to all the twists and turns of fortune in great detail and as such it is not a book for the casual reader. Even If you have an interest in the Roman Empire the going can be a little arduous.

Morgan is great when talking about the emperors themselves and the characters of many of the people around them. The prose really starts to bog down with the descriptions of the battles. As is so often the case with this kind of book, there just isn’t a sufficient amount of maps. This would greatly aid the casual reader’s understanding and help to whip things along a bit.

This book is clearly as much about the sources as the events themselves. This is where Morgan can be interesting, piecing together the most likely story from the extant authors (Josephus, Plutarch,Tacitus, Suetonius, Cassius Dio) who all had their own axe to grind. Yet this also can become a bit turgid when it descends into nitpicking. An appendix deals interestingly with the characters of these men and how much they can be trusted.

The highlights with this book are the interesting tales of little known individuals who did amazing things. One such is Julius Agrestis who committed suicide in order to rouse his emperor to action.

Dry at times, fascinating at others, a good account of a pivotal time in the Empire.

An impressive feat of fiction

Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernieres

Louis de Bernieres is a courageous writer. So much is evident when reading this sprawling, grand narrative of a time and place largely forgotten to us in the twenty-first century. Telling the story of a small town in Turkey before, during and after the first world war, the book spans some 800 pages. At times exasperating, at others compelling, de Bernieres’s narrative of world events intruding upon a small community is like the story of someone growing old and losing their innocence, step by step along the way.

There are similarities to de Bernieres’s most famous work Captain Corelli’s Mandolin but this book is a far more ambitious affair. We are treated to an amazing array of characters and the narrative employs a number of tricks to help distinguish them from each other. De Bernieres chooses the simplicity of the first person narrative to tell the story of a number of key characters, giving us a very personal view of the world. Coupled with this is a more standard third-person narrative that tells the majority of the story. It is a testament to de Bernieres’s skill that we are able to flit about and change viewpoints without confusion.

A third style is used for Mustapha Kemal Ataturk; the man responsible for the modern Turkish state. These chapters are all written in present tense and so have the immediacy of a news report. For the most part Mustapha Kemal’s chronicle is a nice contrast to the rest of the tale but sometimes it does feel a little overused. In the middle of the novel there is a series of chapters all written in this way. The effect is that it feels very much like a list of events rather than a story. There is so much information that de Bernieres needs to get across though, and it is difficult to think how else he could have done it.

De Bernieres’s ambitions also mean that his writing can be irksome in other ways. He revels in his use of unusual words (take ‘mommoxity’ for example) but there are so many that it smacks of someone showing off, drawing too much attention away from the story and onto the cleverness of the writer. This problem is compounded by the frequent ethnic words that pepper the text. The sheer amount of them means that far from creating exotic colour they merely get in the way. This is a shame as de Bernieres is obviously a master with the English language. At other points his writing is a pure delight; very few authors are able to evoke the beauty and ugliness of the world around us as effectively.

De Bernieres writing is remarkable also for its philosophical nature. Take for example his thoughts on beauty as expressed by one of the main characters Drosoula:

“When you looked at Philothei, you were reminded of a terrible truth, which is that everything decays away and is lost. Beauty is precious, you see, and the more beautiful something is the more precious it is; and the more precious something is, the more it hurts us that it will fade away: and the more we are hurt by beauty, the more we love the world; and the more we love it, the more we are saddened that it is like the finely powdered salt that runs away through the fingers, or is washed away by the rain.”

This example from early in the book is just the first of many times that I had to stop and reflect for a while.

Characterisation is of course where de Bernieres is at his strongest. He is an expert craftsman and his accomplishment is impressive when one takes into account the different sides he has created for so many different people. Even when the characters are stereotypical they are still wonderful. Fekrit, the abusive foul-mouthed soldier from Pera is largely one-dimensional but also a joy to read about.

This is an historical novel, and while I certainly learned a lot I was most impressed by its great relevance to the world today. Most obviously this is in its portrayal of the relationship between Christianity and Islam, but also in the way ordinary people get caught up in events that are beyond their control and the tragic consequences that ensue.

At times this read can be a bit of a trudge. While it is a central character in itself, the town of Eskibahce is described in great detail far too many times. Moreover, the end of the book tends to go on and on explaining the same events from different viewpoints while not really revealing anything new. In this way it reminded me of War and Peace; also a fantastic novel that is at least two hundred words too long.

Above all there is much about this immense novel that could be better, but given the breadth of material it covers, one can only stand back in awe of de Bernieres’s achievement.