Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Book Review: "Imagining Spain" by Henry Kamen

Imagining Spain: Historical Myth and National Identity (2008) 

Henry Kamen (1936)










 240 pages


Wherever it is we may call home, what are the stories have we grown up with about our nation’s founding and history, and how do they impact our impressions of its present and its future? Although our national identity is tied tightly to such stories, how conscious are we of them, and of how they were created and by whom? If, in fact, we stop to question their historical accuracy, what would we find?

In Imagining Spain, Henry Kamen examines how Spanish politicians, philosophers and historians in the early 1800’s began to create what he refers to as historical myths about Spain, recreations of the Spanish past which had their foundations in factual history, but which were embellished and refashioned by the authors to create a history that told a desired narrative. He describes how both the left and right in Spain over the past two centuries have imposed their particular interpretations on the early modern period of Spanish history to promote their preferred plans for political and societal reform. In addition, he argues that though these historical myths are largely unsubstantiated by the historical record, they have replaced the true history of Spain’s past, achieving the status of unquestionable canon.

Kamen has studied and written extensively on Spanish history over the past four decades, in particular on Spain’s early modern period, from roughly 1450 to 1800. As indicated by the subtitle of this book, Historical Myths and National Identity, he turns here from explaining Spain’s history to focusing instead on how the Spanish have viewed and understood their own history in the process of creating an identity for their country. In each chapter of the book, Kamen reviews a particular historical myth, describing how it was developed and the purposes it has served for its creators and promoters. Focusing on the origins and effects of these myths, he generally touches only briefly on the facts that undermine them, giving enough to make clear his argument, but leaving the reader to pursue the historical details in other sources.

Kamen examines seven historical myths he feels the Spanish have created about their country’s history: the myth of Spain as a coherent nation-state, the myth of the failed Spanish monarchies of the early modern period, the myth of a Christian Spain, the myth of Spain as an empire, the myth of the Spanish Inquisition, the myth of the reach of Spanish as a universal language, and the myth of Spain as having been in perpetual decline throughout the early modern period. These myths, he cautions, are not simply stories the Spanish tell themselves, but rather have largely become accepted both inside the country and abroad as the true and accurate history of Spain. Readers having some familiarity with Spanish history will find much of what they have learned about both the specific details and the broad arc of Spain’s past called into question by Kamen.

Taking Kamen’s set of historical myths together, the traditionally accepted, over-arching narrative of Spanish history lies in the idea that Spain once ruled the largest, most powerful empire in history, having spread its language around the world and brought Christianity through its missionaries to whole civilizations that had ignorant of it. From this greatness in the early 1500’s, Spain suffered a decline that lasted the next several centuries, as foreign-born kings squandered the riches of the empire and through the Inquisition stifled learning and progress in Spain until, in 1898, the last of the Spanish colonies was lost in the Spanish-American war. Though the details might vary a bit between the liberal and conservative views --- the liberals have blamed the church in part for the decline, while conservatives have promoted a return in Spain to the Catholicism of the 1400’s --- both groups substantially agreed on this narrative of decline. What Kamen argues in his book is that almost all of the elements of this interpretation of Spanish history fail to stand up to historical fact, whether it is the level of Spanish success during the Golden Age or the extent of decline that followed.

The history of the Spanish Inquisition makes for a surprising example of the difference between the commonly accepted accounts that Kamen defines as representing a historical myth, and what he claims is the true history. In that chapter he covers both the Inquisition and more generally the broadly accepted view that beginning in the late 1500’s with Philip II, Spain entered a long period of oppressive censorship and suppression of intellectual and artistic activity, eventually causing the Spanish to fall far behind the rest of Europe in scholarship and innovation. In the West the word inquisition itself seems irrevocably tied to Spain, its cruelty, repression and reach the stuff not just of history books, but also literature and film, and even a Monty Python skit. Citing more recent and detailed research into the specific effects of the Inquisition and related policies promulgated by the Spanish kings, Kamen claims that neither the Inquisition nor attempts at censorship and scholarly restriction had the broad powers or caused the extensive disruptions that have been attributed to them. More generally, he finds the claims of Spain’s intellectual isolation from Europe --- such as access to books or studying abroad at foreign universities --- unsubstantiated by historical fact. It is startling to imagine that such a seemingly well-established view of the Spanish Inquisition could be so rife with myths and exaggerations.

Kamen makes similar arguments to counter each of the historical myths that he examines. Even without going into detail in his counter-arguments, he makes a convincing case for the lack of hard evidence to support these myths, and for how they arose from the political circumstances and personal motivations of the authors who created and propagated them despite the evident lack of evidence. It is important to point out that he does not claim that Spain did not experience a significant decline from the height of its power in the late 1500’s; he in fact acknowledges that there are elements of truth in each of the historical myths. A facile counter-argument to his thesis on any of these historical myths would be to claim he is arguing the opposite extreme: in the case of the Spanish Inquisition, for example, to claim that he is stating that no repression or censorship occurred. What Kamen instead argues for in Imagining Spain is that Spanish history not be reduced to a set of simple, politically and culturally motivated explanations, but rather be understood in all its subtlety.

The history of Spain a reader might have been familiar with before reading Kamen’s book can seem a relatively straightforward story of decline from the height of empire in the 1500’s to becoming one of the poorest countries in Europe in the mid-1900’s. After reading his book it becomes clear that the true account is much more complex, and that the works one may read on Spanish history must be examined more critically. Indeed, reading Kamen’s book cannot help but make a reader consider what historical myths about their own country they may have failed to adequately question.

Other reviews / information:

Kamen’s title seems to play off of Julián Marías’ Understanding Spain from 1990, a book Kamen quotes from several times in his text.  I've read the book, but long before I began doing these reviews; follow the link to read some quotes from Marías’ book.
In particular, Marías has an interpretation of the Spanish Inquisition that has a subtle but important difference to Kamen's.  Similar to Kamen, Marías states that there was relatively little direct, physical violence exercised by the authorities of the Inquisition; instead, he argues, it was the indirect, psychological impacts of the Inquisition that were extensive and deep.  He writes:
I believe that the deepest damage produced in Spanish cultural life by the existence of the Inquisition was not whether it pursued or repressed great creative minds. There were some, a few of them --- only a few --- who were molested or persecuted, and not even that suppressed them entirely. What the Inquisition did do was to dissuade them from entering into certain questions that attracted its attention too much, which could be the object of troublesome scrutiny, which in its eyes were suspect. It almost never had to exercise real violence: its presence was sufficient, an undesirable vigilance that, even to being with and before the stage of fear was reached, cut off at the root the latitude, the spontaneity, that certain forms of creativity demand. It killed precisely those forms that are not combative or polemic, those that are not directed against anything or anyone, but consist of the serene, peaceful, and sometimes even playful search for truth. (252)


Have you read this book, others by this author, or similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.

For more reviews of books on Spain and its history, click a link to my bookshelf of:
Spain and Spanish History

or click one of the following links to my complete bookshelves of:
Fiction or Non-Fiction

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Book Review: "The Ten Thousand Things" by John Spurling

The Ten Thousand Things (2014)
John Spurling (1936)










354 pages


Chaos and uncertainty enveloped China in the 1300’s as the Yuan dynasty, founded only a century before by the leader of the invading Mongol army, slowly lost its grip on power. A succession of ineffective Mongol emperors opened the door in China for rebel movements to gain followers, and upstart warlords fought the Mongols and one another for control of the country. While farmers and merchants struggled to survive the physical destruction of the battles and wars that swept back and forth across the countryside, those who served as civil servants faced the additional risk of being seen as supporting the wrong side in a delicate and constantly shifting political environment. Some, of course, took on active roles in the government or with rebel groups, assuming the risk of making the wrong choice in exchange for their pursuit of personal gain.

What, however, of the artists and scholars who struggled over the decision of whether to withdraw from public and pursue a quiet, scholarly life, or to engage in the political sphere in the hopes of bettering the lives of the common people? Although they may have had their hearts in the right place, and not have considered themselves actual supporters of a particular regime, they often risked the wrath of skeptics who doubted their motives. These artists and scholars faced a dilemma common to people of conscience in similar situations around the world and across the centuries: How does one best live one’s life in turbulent times? How to balance the pursuit of one’s personal passion for art or scholarship with one’s public responsibilities as a human being to others?

John Spurling’s historical novel The Ten Thousand Things, explores these questions through the life of a historical figure of that period, Wang Meng, an artist of considerable talent who also occasionally served as a magistrate. Spurling includes a painting by Wang as a frontispiece to the book, which I’ve reproduced here, and which plays a role in the story. Other historical figures, including artists, scholars, and political figures, populate the novel as well. Though I can’t vouch for the historical accuracy of all the details in the book, I did search out more details on some of the characters (an obsession my smartphone only reinforces), and what I did find mostly fit in with how they are represented in the story.

As the story opens, Wang sits in prison on (an unfounded) suspicion of conspiracy against the new emperor of China, the victorious warlord who, having defeated the other rebel Chinese armies, went on to oust the Mongols, end their Yuan dynasty and found the Ming dynasty. Confined to his cell, Wang reflects back on his nearly eighty years, and how the experiences he has had and choices he has made during the tumultuous period of the decline and fall of the Mongol’s Yuan dynasty and the subsequent rise of the Ming, colored and altered his understanding of himself and the world. The novel represents, in fact, an extend flashback of Wang recalling and writing about key moments in his life.

As a painter Wang doubts his own abilities, but his work is admired by friends, art collectors and other artists. Wang in fact wishes throughout his life for nothing more than to be able to retire off to a quiet spot in the countryside and spend his time improving his technique and painting the mountain scenes that he loves so much. Inevitably, however, the real world pulls him back again and again into the fray. Sometimes his involvement comes by force or out of necessity, but other times he finds his own conscience leading him to reengage with the outside world, to use his education and abilities to better the lives of the Chinese people as a civil servant.

Though his participation in the Mongol government lasts only a relatively short time, Wang comes to find his past as a civil servant a burden as the uprising against the Mongols gains strength: despite his claims of having had only the purest intentions in serving as a magistrate, he constantly faces questions about his loyalty. A similar dilemma arises for Wang when the rebel groups begin to coalesce into a few large factions which compete to be the one that will overthrow the Mongols and claims the emperorship; caught in a region controlled by one of these groups when he returns home to care for his father, Wang again accepts a position as a civil servant, deciding that he cannot remain on the sidelines:
 “Why? Because this was not so much a matter of assisting [the rebel leader] Zhang’s regime as of bringing relief to many ordinary people --- mostly farmers and traders --- in the city and district of his birth. Public order and justice, he told himself, were of more importance than the purely selfish question of his tangled loyalties…” (p. 221)  
When the political dynamic later shifts around him, his decision to serve comes back to haunt him again; whatever his reasons for becoming involved may have been, some among the new leadership in power are suspicious of his loyalties given his earlier willingness to serve other rulers.

Wang shares with many of the artists and scholars he feels closest to this dilemma about whether and how to help the wider public, and the risks that come with serving in government; it is, however, far from the only question that occupies his thoughts. In Spurling’s novel, Wang also reflects deeply on the inner world of his painting, as well as the works and methods of other artists he encounters or studies. Through his contemplation of his own work and that of others, and his discussions with artists and scholars about each other’s work, he develops his only abilities as a painter, as well as his appreciation of what he finds to be the wondrous variety of the world --- the ten thousand things of the title, a reference to the Chinese concept of all the parts that make up the heavens and the earth.

Through these imagined discussions between influential artists of 14th century China, Spurling reveals to us the techniques, subjects and meanings that Chinese artists were exploring in that period, as well as the importance they placed on a connection to --- or movement beyond --- their cultural and artistic traditions. For the uninitiated (such as I), and coming from a western perspective, Chinese landscape paintings --- while beautiful --- can seem to have little variation, one to the next. But through Wang and his artist friends we come to a better understanding and appreciation of the truly wide variety of themes and techniques that these paintings represent.

John Spurling’s The Ten Thousand Things succeeds splendidly in the way a historical novel should, introducing us to the culture and norms and concerns of a distant age and place, and through this journey, gives us a fresh understanding of our own daily world.


Quote from this book:
One of the quotes in the epigraph to the book particularly sticks with me:

“The empire, long united, must divide, and long divided, must unite. Thus it has ever been.”
--- Attributed to LUO GUANZHONG:
Three Kingdoms (?14th century)


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Book Review: "Bad Behavior" by Mary Gaitskill

Bad Behavior (1988)
Mary Gaitskill (1954)










204 pages

If someone wrote about your life, describing the drama and action in it, you might wish it could be more exciting or at least more interesting, but I expect you wouldn’t be all that embarrassed to have it appear in print. But what if that story, instead of focusing on the events of your life, captured the jumble of thoughts and images that flare up uncontrollably to disrupt your concentration at work, or keep you awake at night staring at the ceiling? Having those often chaotic and irrational mixtures of secret desires, fears and rationalizations appear in a story for anyone to read would be mortifying indeed.

Fortunate it is then for the characters in Mary Gaitskill’s collection of short stories Bad Behavior that they are fictional, and so incapable of suffering from the revelation of their most private thoughts and bitter realizations about themselves.

These nine stories in fact contain little direct action. Instead, most of the drama occurs in the character’s thoughts, as Gaitskill examines the psychological impacts on people of what are often seemingly minor events. In some stories, for example, a chance meeting triggers an avalanche of memories that carries characters back into a painful and buried past that they suddenly find haunts their present. In others, what might seem to be an encounter of little significance causes characters to suddenly question their most fundamental assumptions about themselves. Gaitskill lets us peer into the minds of her characters, revealing how quickly and easily memories and dreams can dissolve someone’s carefully constructed image of themselves into a roiling turmoil of uncertainty, doubt and regret.

In the opening story, Daisy’s Valentine, a married man whose world is organized around a three day drug binge he and his wife engage in weekly finds himself attracted to a woman at work who has moved from one disappointing boyfriend to the next. When the pair begin going out they find themselves mired in misunderstanding, connected by little more than their mutual desire to move beyond the dismal present of their lives.

A woman agrees to go out of town on vacation with a man she’s just met in A Romantic Weekend. Attracted to his forceful behavior, she has revealed to him her masochistic tendencies, and so triggered his sadistic fantasies. But when they finally head out on the trip, the two struggle to understand why the exciting plans they had each imagined for the weekend fail to materialize, and why the other has suddenly become so different from the person they expected.

Something Nice opens with a man visiting a brothel while his wife is out of town on a several week trip. When he chats up the prostitute during his session in the room, he finds her willing to engage in the conversation as if he had just met her casually somewhere. Returning to see her the following nights, he feels he is building a relationship with her different from the typical one between a john and a prostitute, and begins to imagine that she views the situation the same way, and that their relationship could carry on outside the brothel.

Despite a good job in Manhattan and an active dating life, the main character in An Affair, Edited begins to question the direction his life has taken when, walking a different route to work one day, he passes a girl he had dated back at the University of Michigan. Their relationship had ended badly, but after seeing her he finds his thoughts drifting back to memories of their time together and of his life back at school. Erotic fantasies of her mash together with others of girls he has met since, only to clash with moments of clarity about what he may have missed out on.

A woman momentarily mistakes a street beggar for an old girlfriend as Connection opens. The friendship had ended bitterly, but memories of their time together now coming flooding back to the woman, forcing her to reevaluate her assumptions about why it had ended at all.

In Trying To Be a woman who came to New York to be a writer instead drifts in and out of clerical jobs, which she occasionally quits out of boredom to work as a prostitute for brief periods. During one of her stints in a brothel she meets a john who seems genuinely interested in her; when they begin meeting outside of the brothel, he continues to pay her, leaving her confused and reflective about where her life is taking her.

In Secretary --- turned into a feature film released in 2002 starring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader --- a young woman with a dim and uncertain view of her future begins a job working as a receptionist and secretary for a lawyer in a small, stand-alone office building. When the lawyer discovers errors in some of the letters she types up, his methods for punishing her take a startling twist, leaving her both appalled and aroused.

A woman runs into an old friend on the street, in Other Factors, someone she has not seen for a couple of years. He triggers unwelcome memories for her of someone she had thought of as a friend, but who she felt had unexpectedly turned on her, and with whom she had therefore abruptly cut off contact. Since that time she has built a comfortable life for herself, having found good work and a stable relationship, but when an opportunity to see her former friend comes up, she struggles with how to handle the sudden resurrection of past disappointment.

The lead character in Heaven is wife, mother, sister and aunt, with these roles sometimes bringing her joy and happiness, and other times buffeting her life with struggle and pain. Perhaps most challenging are the unexpected twists, the moments when what seemed to be going well suddenly turns bad, and through it all finding a way to keep moving forward.

Reading any of the stories in this collection is a bit like staring at a slow-motion accident: we are bewildered and disturbed, but we cannot look away. It can be a struggle to know whether to feel pity, empathy or outrage for the characters in these stories, and a part of deciding which of these feelings is appropriate can be recognizing in some of these characters our own weakness and failings.


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Book Review: "Making American Foreign Policy" by Ole R. Holsti

Making American Foreign Policy (2006)  

Ole R. Holsti (1933)










390 pages

American public opinion has been characterized by some analysts as unstable and incoherent, and having little impact on foreign policy; but is such a view supported by actual evidence, or does it simply represent an unsubstantiated assumption? More generally, how has the foreign policy environment in the United States changed since the relatively strong consensus that existed during the first two decades after the end of WW II, when the Cold War focused the minds of political leaders and the public alike? And, Classical Realist models of international relations assume that nation-states are unitary rational actors, that is, that they can be considered as single entities that make rational choices; but should foreign policy decisions by the US government be made based on such a model of international behavior, ignoring the varied and particular characteristics of any nation’s leaders?

In Making American Foreign Policy, Ole R. Holsti, Professor Emeritus of Political Science at Duke University, examines these and other questions concerning American foreign policy over the past half-century.

Holsti opens the book with two chapters in which he argues that the analysis and understanding of decision making in political contexts can benefit from considering the behaviors of the leaders involved; he refers to this as a cognitive approach to political science, and differentiates it from the unitary rational actor model mentioned above. To understand a leader’s behavior, he begins by characterizing their Belief System, which he defines as a set of lenses through which a person perceives the world, and with which order is brought to an otherwise unmanageable amount of information. In a data-driven approach that he follows throughout the remaining chapters of the book, Holsti parses, categorizes and analyzes the public comments about the Soviet Union made by John Foster Dulles, US Secretary of State from 1953-59, in order to understand Dulles’ belief system. Holsti begins by developing a hypothesis that describes Dulles’ opinions regarding the Soviet Union, and then demonstrates the validity of the hypothesized belief system by analyzing Dulles’ public statements. Thus, Holsti does not simply rely on an arm-chair psychological evaluation of Dulles, he instead quantifies the nature of Dulles’ beliefs, and shows that a consistent pattern can be found in his public declarations.

Having established the importance of taking a cognitive approach to analyzing and understanding foreign policy behaviors, Holsti uses the next eight chapters of the book to examine how the beliefs and opinions of American leaders and the public have affected foreign policy decisions and behavior. Holsti begins from the premise that for the two decades after the end of WW II a fairly consistent, coherent and broadly-held consensus existed in American foreign policy, one shaped principally by the Cold War with the Soviet Union. He then uses survey data that he and his team gathered, as well as data from other researchers and organizations, to quantifiably chart public and leadership opinion in the US, as well as the trends in these opinions since the mid-1960’s, a period of dramatic change encompassing Vietnam, several rounds of détente, the end of the Cold War, the post-Cold War era, and the events and aftermath of 9-11.

Whether it’s the “Almond-Lippmann Consensus” (that American public opinion is volatile, incoherent and has little impact on foreign policy), the popular notion that Americans will not support foreign involvement once casualty figures begin mounting, or Arthur Schlesinger’s statement in 1995 that Americans are becoming more isolationist in the aftermath of the cold war, Holsti does not simply argue for or against these propositions. He instead goes back to the survey results and shows us what an analysis of actual data says about the validity of these assumptions --- or general lack thereof in the case of the three listed above. In doing so he is careful to describe the limitations of the survey results he presents, and also where the data do not allow a clear distinction.

To note just one of the intriguing results that comes out in these chapters: Holsti charts how the opinions of American leaders and the public have been affected and changed by the significant international events of the past 50 years. Analyzing the extensive survey data that he and others have collected, he demonstrates how Vietnam sundered the Cold War consensus that had existed since WW II, and from the data he demonstrates the quite divergent and highly partisan viewpoints that have developed, and how an alignment arose between domestic and foreign policy opinions on each side of that partisan divide. He also examines the trends in opinion over the past five decades, noting that even such dramatic events as the end of the Cold War and the 9-11 attacks have not led to the development of a new consensus, and that in fact the partisan and ideological divides in politics have only become deeper. Surely it would be difficult to argue with the impression --- even without data --- that in the decade since the book was published these trends have only intensified.

Holsti concludes with two chapters that discuss more broadly the analysis of international relations and foreign policy. In the first of these, he summarizes the main approaches, or models, used in the study and understanding of these areas, discussing their principal features, and some of the shortcomings critics have raised against them. One element of the discussion that particularly stood out for me was the realization that these models and their respective supporters tie back to Holsti’s opening chapters on Belief Systems and their impact on an individual’s perception and ordering of information about the world. Classical Realism, according to Holsti, is grounded in a pessimistic theory of human nature, and a focus on the causes of war and conditions of peace; it’s not difficult to see how a person’s view of the world could lead them to favor this model. Similarly, the model that Holsti lumps together under the title of Global Society, Interdependence, Institutionalism acknowledges that issues of war and peace are important, but believes too that nation-states can have other motivations for their behavior, which can lead to institution building between states, and so to a non-zero-sum structure; again, one can imagine that a person’s belief system might lead them to accept the validity of such a model. Other approaches, such as Marxism, World Systems, Dependency (built around the idea that conditions arising from modes of production, such as poverty and exploitation, are key elements) and Post-Modern (negating the idea that a general model for the international system can even be developed) fit the same pattern. As in so many areas of science, and beyond it for that matter, how one views the world --- one’s belief system --- inevitably affects how one imagines (models) it.

In the same chapter, Holsti discusses Decision Making structures, such as bureaucratic/organizational, small group and individual leader models. These approaches link back to a fundamental criticism of the Classical Realism (unitary rational actor) theory, that nation-states cannot be considered to act either as singular units or rationally because their actions come down to the beliefs and behaviors of individuals or groups. Holsti also points out that there has been a growing movement to consider multiple levels of models at once in order to more fully understand and make sense of international relations and foreign policy; so, for example, to use a classical realism or global systems model, but in conjunction with (more detailed) decision making-based models.

Holsti concludes with a final chapter that summarizes his take away from over forty years of studying American leadership and public opinion and its impact on foreign policy behavior and decisions. He states that “by conventional measures of power and status power” (p. 345) the United States continues to dominate the international arena, but that we have lost much of our ability to guide and influence foreign relations --- the soft power that helps a country to avoid having to resort to military force to further its interests. He also laments (perceptively one could say, from the perspective of 10 years on) the continuing trend toward an ever more partisan and ideologically driven foreign policy debate, from which our influence on international relation can only suffer. He finds that the United States continues to pay a heavy price for the way our government executed the Iraq War --- from its attempt to coerce allies into participating or lending support, to its misleading statements made to justify the war --- which he feels has been particularly damaging to our standing and influence in world affairs.

The chapters in Making American Foreign Policy consist of a dozen or so published papers from Holsti’s five decades of work in the field of analyzing international relations and foreign policy.  Their origin as stand-alone papers leads to some level of overlap in the results and discussion from one chapter (paper) to the next, which Holsti addresses in part by including an introduction in which he describes the overarching themes of the book, and provides a brief outline of the individual chapters and their place in the whole.  The choice of issuing the book as a collection of papers does have an advantage for the reader: with the chapters arranged in roughly chronological order, covering papers he published between 1972 to 2005, we can evaluate and understand the results and analysis in the context of the dramatic changes that occurred over that period.   In addition we benefit from an authoritative, data-driven analysis of American foreign policy over the last half-century.  This is not purely a work of one person’s opinion, like so many books on domestic and international politics can be. Instead Holsti summarizes and analyzes the results of several decades of surveys of both the American public and American decision making elite, to help us understand how their opinions have evolved, and to allow us to evaluate which popular assumptions about their opinions and beliefs stand up to scrutiny, and which are misguided, or worse, wishful (often for political purposes) thinking.


Read quotes from this book

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Book Review: "Don't Look Now" by Daphne Du Maurier

Don’t Look Now (2008; selected stories from 1952-1980)  

Daphne Du Maurier (1907-1989)



346 pages

I must first admit that this was a book that I judged by its cover.

A stack of them lay on a table near the bookstore’s collection of publisher NYRB Classics books, and the cover caught my eye as soon as I walked up. When I found out that the cover photo is a still shot from the movie Repulsion, my curiosity grew. (For those not familiar with the film, Repulsion was released in 1965 by Roman Polanski, and starred Catherine Deneuve; it is a psychological thriller, a kind of nightmare-on-film that has one of the qualities I look for in a movie: it grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go, even once it’s over.)

When I opened the book and discovered that one of the stories was The Birds, which served as the source material for the Hitchcock movie of the same name, I was hooked. Back home, as I sat down to begin reading the book, I was ready for a set of stories that would grab me, ‘Repulsion-like’, and not let go.

And the title story didn’t disappoint. As it opens a couple is having lunch in Venice, where they are vacationing in an attempt to find a return to normalcy after the death of their daughter. They notice two old women staring at them from across the dining room; later the wife returns from the restroom saying that she ran into one of the two, that they are sisters, and that one of them claims to have seen the couples dead daughter sitting between her parents at the table. The husband tries to laugh it off, but his wife is convinced that the women have had a true vision. Soon after this unsettling news the wife learns she must return home suddenly to London, and leaves the hotel to catch the next flight out, with her husband planning to follow her later that day with the car. Hours after his wife’s flight was scheduled to depart the husband thinks he sees her on a passing ferry standing with the two old women, and finds himself drawn into a deepening nightmare of uncertainty that soon has him questioning his sanity.

The Birds, according to Patrick McGrath in the book’s Introduction, “is the masterpiece” of short stories, and it certainly stands out in this collection. The tension builds from the first lines, quickly reaching a fever pitch sustained through to the end of the story. McGrath notes that Du Maurier did not like Hitchcock’s movie adaptation of her story, which had significant changes to the setting and characters. In Du Maurier’s telling, a hired hand on an isolated farm along the English coast must fight to protect his family when winter winds bring a sudden end to fall --- and a deadly change in the behavior of the birds. He and his family hear radio reports of similar occurrences all over England, the newscasters implying that some man-made impact on the climate lies behind the fanatical behavior of the birds, though the exact cause remains unknown. As the days pass the man and his family realize that their neighbors have perished, the government will not be able to help them, and that they must fight on alone against a relentless enemy.

The remaining stories are engaging, but do not achieve the same undertone of unease growing into fear and finally terror as the initial two. Some come closer than others to creating that tension, but for the most part they are either more straightforward mystery stories (say, like “Ripley’s believe it or not” stories), or they build some suspense but then conclude with a kind of final trick --- unlike a story such as The Birds, which has no surprise ending, leaving you with the dread of the unknown future.

In the story Escort, a freighter crosses the North Sea on a trip from Scandinavia to its home port in England during the early months of World War II. In the middle of the trip, far from safety, the crew spot a German U-boat periscope rise up out of the water in the distance, and they begin maneuvers intended to keep the U-boat at a difficult firing angle. As their hopes for survival fade, a fog bank suddenly closes in around them, and brings with it an old-style British raiding ship whose captain offers his assistance. The captain of the freighter accepts the offer, though unable to understand where the old wooden barque has come from and how it will fend off the German torpedoes.

In Split Second, a woman in early 1930’s England tidies up her home and then goes out for a walk through a nearby heath. Returning home she is shocked to discover that her things have been removed and a handful of people claim that they are renting rooms in what has become a lodging house. She calls the police to arrest the burglars, but ends up in custody herself instead. Why can she not convince anyone that she is the rightful owner, and why can the police not track down any of her friends, or her daughter studying at a nearby private school?

A mechanic decides to catch a movie after work in Kiss Me Again, Stranger and ends up falling in love with the usherette who collects his ticket. When he follows her onto the bus after the show and chats her up, his sudden crush for her can’t quite blind him to her odd behavior, starting with the fact that she asks him, as she falls asleep on his shoulder, not to let her miss her stop, at the bottom of a hill, near a cemetery.

A woman lies in a hospital bed, having waited for weeks to have the bandages removed from her eyes in The Blue Lenses. The doctors who performed her eye surgery and the nurses who tend to her are all most friendly and helpful, and her husband dutifully stops to visit each day. When the doctor can finally remove the bandages, he explains that she still has on her eyes protective blue lenses that she will have to wear for a week, and that could make things look odd. The last bandage removed, she looks around the room, and the furnishings do indeed have a blue tinge, though this hardly detracts from her joy at being able to see well again. Looking at the doctor and nurse next to her bed, however, she is shocked to see them with animal heads, the animals corresponding to their individual personalities; she desperately awaits the arrival of her husband later that evening to help her deal with what has befallen her.

In a small village along the coast of Brittany, a young fisherman’s wife frets about her husband’s upcoming fishing trip in La Sainte-Vierge, her brother having died only a year earlier while out fishing on the Atlantic Ocean. Looking for divine intervention, she goes to the local chapel and kneels before the statue of the blessed virgin to pray for her husband’s safe return, and ends by pleading for an acknowledgement that her wish has been granted. When the moon moves out from behind the clouds in the night sky, she sees the longed for blessing through the chapel window, in the nearby grass.

A wrong word at the wrong moment wreaks havoc on three lives in the story Indiscretion. A man is invited out by his boss to lunch to celebrate the boss’s marriage, planned for the following day. When the subordinate explains that his reticence to congratulate his boss is the result of unpleasant relationships he has experienced, his boss goads him into telling more. The man finally gives in, and describes a girl he had run into just the year before, and who turned out to be not who she had said she was. Fate intervenes the next day when the man goes to the train station to see his boss off on the honeymoon.

The closing story, Monte Verità, has an almost mystical tone to it. Two friends grow up climbing mountains together; when one of the pair marries, and goes off on a mountain climbing trip with his wife, she disappears into mysterious monastery-like building near the twin peaks of the mountain. It his left to the man’s friend to discover what has become of her.

If you are looking for tense, disturbing, psychological dramas, you will find a few such stories here, but many of the others end up on the lighter, mystery end of the spectrum. That said, with one’s expectations adjusted just a bit from the dramatic cover picture that serves as introduction to the book, there is much to enjoy and be captivated by in Du Maurier’s writing and construction of these tales.


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This is yet another wonderful selection from the NYRB Classics collection.


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Book Review: "Hitler's Spy Chief" by Richard Bassett

Hitler’s Spy Chief
The Wilhelm Canaris Betrayal
The Intelligence Campaign Against Adolf Hitler
(2005)  

Richard Bassett











319 pages

Were fate and destiny … not to be cheated by the sincere attempts of men of good will to save Germany and Europe from [the war that] was coming? Was some dynamic … forcing events to run out of control of even the statesmen and spy masters? (p. 162)
In early January 1935, Admiral Wilhelm Canaris took over as the Chief of the Abwehr, the German office of Military Intelligence under Adolf Hitler. Though initially sympathetic to the Nazi cause by virtue of strong anti-Bolshevik feelings he had developed in early 1918 during the brief communist uprising in Germany, by 1937 he had begun to have doubts about Nazi rule. These doubts quickly grew into a conviction that Hitler and the Nazi’s were planning a war that would destroy Germany, and Canaris began actively using his position within the government to work against them, until his actions were finally found out in late 1944, leading to his dismissal, and eventual execution just weeks before the end of World War II. In Hitler’s Spy Chief, Richard Bassett describes Canaris’ background, and his efforts to both undermine Hitler and the Nazi regime, as well as broker a peace agreement with the Allies, in order to save the Germany he loved from what he realized was eventual and complete destruction.

Even the most cursory knowledge of the history of WW II makes clear that Canaris failed in his attempts to bring about a coup against Hitler, a peace accord between Germany and the Allies, or even avoid Germany’s destruction by the Allies. Why then is his story worth more than just a passing interest?

One answer to this question, according to Bassett, lies in what Canaris was able accomplish in his resistance to Nazi policies and efforts --- the “Betrayal” in the book’s subtitle --- and the moral dilemma these actions created for him. Bassett lays out evidence that Canaris’ actions undermined or prevented German military success on a number of key fronts during the war and thereby led directly or indirectly to increased deaths in the German military. How do we assess the morality, he asks, of Canaris sacrificing the lives of his fellow soldiers in an attempt to achieve a perceived greater good for his country?

The other aspect of Canaris’ story which Bassett finds compelling relates to questions raised by the British government’s repeated rejections of Canaris’ attempts to arrange a peace between Germany and the England. Detailing Canaris’ many attempts to contact and come to an understanding with British officials before and during the war, and the reticence of the British government to follow through on these opportunities to have Hitler over-thrown and make peace with anti-Nazi groups, Bassett asks if “the very tangible chances of ending the conflict … earlier with the consequent saving of life, certainly many millions, … be weighed successfully against the durable balance of power hammered out by the victors in 1945, which kept the peace of the world for half a century --- more or less --- though at a high price for the countries of central and eastern Europe” (p. 9)? Although Bassett warns that one who has not lived the difficult life of a statesmen should not “pass judgment on those statesmen … whose decisions vitally affected the duration of the Second World War” (p. 9), the consideration of these questions, and Canaris’ role in creating the subsequent history in which we are now left to evaluate them, form the backbone of this engaging and though-provoking book.

Bassett opens with a dramatic chase scene: early in WW I, on the oceans around South America, the British Navy searches for the Dresden, a German light cruiser that survived a large naval battle at the Falkland Islands won by the British. Having months earlier lost a significant naval engagement to the upstart German navy, the British were desperate to find the Dresden and sink her to make their recent victory compete. For three long months the Dresden and her crew evaded British ships through a well-orchestrated campaign of miss-information, false signals and bribes of local officials; the leader of this game of hide-and-seek: Lieutenant Wilhelm Canaris, the intelligence office on the Dresden. Though the British eventually tracked the Dresden down, Canaris’ ability to keep a host of British ships occupied for so long made him known to the highest levels of the German admiralty, and, according to Bassett, served as Canaris’ initial introduction to the British political and military establishment, including the then First Lord of the Admiralty, and future Prime Minister, Winston Churchill.

In the wake of the events on the Dresden, Canaris escaped interment in Chile and made his way back to Germany, where he found that his reputation had preceded him and so opened doors for him into the German intelligence services. From late in WW I until he became Chief of the Abwehr in 1935, Canaris held positions in both military intelligence and active naval duty, always demonstrating exceptional capability. (This period included his playing a key role in the Spanish Civil War, arranging Germany’s military support for General Franco and the Nationalist insurgents against the Republican Loyalists; for more on this see the post-script below.) His success in these assignments served as preparation for the delicate task that Bassett argues occupied the last years of Canaris’ life: pretend to be an effective and supportive member of the Nazi regime while using his position as Chief of the Abwehr to undermine it wherever possible.

The complex history that Bassett describes of Canaris’ official and unofficial activities in the lead-up to WW II and throughout the war years shatters the simplistic narrative that reduces the war in Europe to only a deadly sequence of battles to the end between the Allies and the Axis. Marshalling evidence from British and German archives, from earlier researchers and from his personal interviews of participants, Bassett reveals the complex political maneuverings and dealings between the two sides that happened in the shadow of the famous military engagements. These activities were not solely of Canaris’ making, of course, however great his role may have been; as Bassett points out, reaching “an ‘understanding’ with Britain … was also high in his master, Hitler’s, agenda,” which allowed Canaris the space in which “to weave his complicated course” (p. 292).

The machinations began already in the year before the shooting started, according to Bassett, as Canaris attempted to prevent Hitler from taking Germany into war. His overtures to the British government met with a mixed audience, however: though some in the government advocated allying with Germany against what they saw as a rising communist threat from the Soviet Union, others found more to fear in a Germany ruled by the Prussian monarchists and military. The appeasement approach of the English Prime Minister Neville was in fact, according to Bassett, not simply an attempt to avoid war, but focused too on actively undermining the anti-Hitler opposition; Chamberlain believed that the traditional German military staff represented a greater threat to peace in Europe than Hitler. Chamberlain’s aggressive pursuit of appeasement thwarted Canaris’ attempts to overthrow Hitler and stave off the war, and leaves us to consider, as Bassett asks, how we should now view (admittedly with the immense benefit of hindsight) Chamberlain’s choice: in the end he did not prevent war, and, by leaving Hitler in place, ultimately, if certainly unwittingly, enabled the eventual genocide of the Jews in Nazi concentration camps.

Attempts to prevent war frustrated, and the battle finally joined, Bassett describes how Canaris’ contacts with the British continued into the war years, though maintaining them grew ever more challenging. As the war continued, Canaris not only sought to reach an agreement with the British on a peaceful settlement, he at the same time undermined German war plans on a number of fronts by giving biased military intelligence (for example, of the ability of the British to resist invasion) and passing critical intelligence information to foreign governments (such as the British and Spanish) which supported their efforts against the Nazi’s.

Looking first at the peace efforts, Bassett points out that these are sensitive topics even today, in Britain in particular; despite the growing evidence of these contacts, he argues that few historians want to admit that any peaceful solution may have been sought by the British government during the war, especially in light of the ultimate Allied victory and the revelations of Nazi genocide of the Jews. Bassett states, however, that in the early years of the war, when the German army had pushed deep into the Soviet Union and the British learned that the Soviets and Germans were pursuing a peace treaty, British officials became worried that such an agreement would focus Hitler back toward the West. This concern made the British eager to consider a settlement with Germany first, especially those who were more strongly anti-Bolshevik than anti-German. Canaris’ work once more came to nothing, however, as the Soviet army turned the tide against the Germans and Britain’s position became reinforced by America’s entrance into the war; the British government’s interest in coming to an early peace evaporated. Again hindsight is 20-20, but we are left to consider how would Europe look different today, and how many lives could have been saved, if the British and Germans had come to an agreement in the early 1940’s, when Germany controlled the situation in the east?

The second aspect of Canaris’ activities during the war was his undermining of the Nazi regime and the German military effort. Bassett argues that Canaris had two motivations for his actions: one was to try and end the war sooner to avoid Germany’s destruction, while the second was to show the British that he was acting in good faith in his search for a peaceful solution. Some of what Bassett describes of Canaris’ “betrayals” he is able to document through papers in government archives and interviews with key participants; for other events he points out that it is only possible to speculate based on the limited available evidence. In cases where the documented evidence is lacking, Bassett lays out for us how he reached his conclusions and leaves it to us to decide if we find them reasonable. He builds a convincing case, however, for Canaris having pursued a fairly wide range of activities to undermine the Nazi regime, and performing a bit of a tightrope act to keep his actions hidden. Beyond actions affecting the military, Canaris reportedly also used the power of his position as head of the Abwehr to save some Jews from the concentration camps. Bassett points out that Canaris “was, like … so many of the other German officers, always to suffer from the internal contradiction of his military oath … and his opposition to the regime” (p. 291). Here again, Bassett leaves it to the reader to determine how we assess Canaris’ actions and his handling of the conflict between his responsibilities to his country and his fellow soldiers.

Bassett carefully documents the points he makes in the book, and from comments in the Acknowledgements, Preface, Author’s Notes, Source Notes and Bibliography it seems clear that he did extensive work over many years researching Canaris’ life and actions, and the reactions on the British side. During his research he dug into archives and existing histories in English and German, and interviewed people connected with the events in the book as far back as the early 1980’s. All of which though leads to my one complaint with his otherwise engaging story: he writes it as if to an insider of those times, a case being made to a historian and not a lay reader. To give but one example: “It is important to remember that Chamberlain’s actions had the unreserved support of the entire cabinet, including Duff Cooper.” Who is Duff Cooper, and why is he mentioned here? He doesn’t appear any where else in the book, including in the index or sources, just this one mention in passing; certainly I can go and look him up, but what is the significance of his “support”? There are many such references throughout the book, of people and locations mentioned without explaining who they were or where they were located, some of which I had to do a fair amount of searching on-line to actually track down.

Having said this, a more “typical” lay reader, who may not have my obsession with tracking down some mostly minor details, can read past these references with little being lost. And at any rate, this minor shortcoming does not take away from the fundamental thrust of the engaging history that Bassett has researched and written. The story of Canaris’ actions as head of the Abwehr under Hitler complicates history, in a way, offering a view of the machinations present in a Nazi regime that can often seem from the history books to have been tightly unified. More broadly, the book exposes the complex relationships that existed between Germany and Britain in the years leading up to the war, and the contacts that continued into the war years as success on the battlefield ebbed and flowed. Perhaps most importantly it gives us a view into the mind of a man caught in the middle of the maelstrom, who chose to stay and fight for what he believed in --- his country and his conscience --- at what was extreme personal risk, as events ultimately proved.


POST-SCRIPT

Due to my interest in Spain and Spanish history I found the details of Canaris’ involvement in Spain particularly intriguing. He first traveled there during the second half of World War I, assigned to organize an undercover infrastructure in Spain for supplying German U-boats. In between the world wars Canaris returned to Spain with orders to set-up connections to support the rebuilding of German military capability out of sight of the Allied monitoring commissions established at the end of WW I. Finally, Canaris played an important role during the Spanish Civil War in having Germany supply the Nationalist forces led by General Franco. Bassett notes that during these repeated periods in Spain Canaris developed a strong attachment to the country:
As the storm in Europe began to gather momentum, Canaris found increasing solace in his tours of Spain. He found Spain a welcome distraction from the events of growing crisis in central Europe. For Canaris there was a ‘constant exhilaration’ associated with Spain. He loved Spain, not because of its sights or landscape, but because he sensed an empathy with its soul and character. His staff noted how his spirits rose when he was in the Iberian peninsula. The ruinous Spanish roads, the undeveloped, in some areas almost feudal, conditions seemed so remote from his homeland of modern Germany and yet thanks to his superb command of the Spanish language, his unteutonic appearance and his intelligence, he could pass as a Spaniard whose home these worn sierras, windowless churches and mud-build villages were. (p. 137)
Canaris’ love for Spain led to one of the critical ways in which he undermined the German war effort, according to Bassett. In late 1940 Hitler met with Franco at Hendaye, France, on the Spanish border, intent on getting Spanish agreement for a joint attack on Gibraltar, control of which would secure the Mediterranean for the German navy. Bassett claims that Canaris, in the hopes of derailing Hitler’s plans, provided Franco information on the German military and commercial situation, as well as Allied naval capabilities, with which Hitler’s arguments could be countered and deflected. In a meeting that Hitler later described as “like having teeth pulled” (p. 200), Franco and his subordinates avoided coming to an agreement without giving an outright rejection, and were subsequently able to hold to this position long enough for Hitler to finally become distracted by his planned invasion of Russia the following summer.

Thus, by helping Franco avoid becoming involved with Germany during WW II, Canaris may have spared Spain from becoming the second western front against Hitler, and so having a second major war ravage the country in less than a decade. With this move, Canaris was able to accomplish two goals at once: undermine the German military success and help the Spain he loved avoid further destruction.

But taking a broader view of Canaris’ life makes his impact on Spain becomes more complex to evaluate. Canaris’ role in having Germany arm the Spanish insurgent Nationalists, enabled Franco’s forces to ultimately defeat the Republican loyalist government forces in the Spanish Civil War. Canaris’ interest in supporting the Spanish Nationalists grew out of his long-held anti-communist beliefs, and his awareness that the Republicans in Spain, abandoned by Western democracies such as England, France and the U.S., were being increasingly supported by the Soviet Union. Soviet support was turning the Spanish communist parties, which before the war had small (less than 10%) support in the population, into a major political force; Canaris raised the threat of Germany being surrounded by communist countries to successfully lobby Hitler to support Franco. Thus, based on Bassett’s research, Canaris played a key role in Franco’s forces winning the civil war, and so the birth of the Franco dictatorship which ruled Spain into the early 1970’s. (Bassett points out that Franco later acknowledged this ‘debt’ by offering Canaris’ widow and daughter a safe-haven in Spain after WW II.)

How would, or should, a Spaniard, or someone who ‘loves Spain’ react to Canaris’ actions. The what-if’s become overwhelming at this point. What if Canaris had not kept Spain from becoming involved with Germany during the war, and the Allies had eventually invaded Spain? Would it have meant a much earlier end to Franco’s dictatorship, and involvement of Spain in the Marshall plan, thus avoiding decades of isolation and poverty? What if, earlier, Canaris had not led Germany to get involved in the Spanish Civil war, and the Soviet-backed Republican government forces had been victorious, creating a communist Spain, what would have occurred in the opening years of WW II? Would Germany have continued through France to invade and most likely easily defeat a weakened Spain, drained by years of Civil War and still divided politically due to the significant conservative fraction of the Spanish population, and so gain control of the Straits of Gibraltar and a much stronger position in the war? What would have been Spain’s future in that case?

These are questions that will never be answered, of course, and in a Spain that continues to deal with the aftereffects of its Civil War and the long dictatorship that followed there would likely even today people who would view Canaris’ role and its affects with widely differing responses. Bassett clearly feels that Canaris chose courses of action in Spain out of a love for the country and its ways. One can wonder how Canaris himself would evaluate the subsequent decades of the Franco dictatorship. Perhaps the cautionary tale here goes back to Bassett’s statement near the opening of the book, as quoted earlier, that one who has not lived the difficult life of a statesmen should not “pass judgment on those statesmen,” and that unintended consequences are simply a part of the risks of choices we must make.

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For more on the Spanish Civil War, follow this link my review of Hugh Thomas’ book The Spanish Civil War.  Thomas mentions Canaris’ involvement with the Spanish Nationalists, though in a footnote states that there have been varying opinions among historians to the extent of his role. Bassett could, I suppose, counter that he has had access to much more newly available documentation than earlier researchers…

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Friday, February 28, 2014

Book Review: "The Measure of Reality" by Alfred W. Crosby

The Measure of Reality:
Quantification and Western Society, 1250-1600
(1997)  

Alfred W. Crosby (1931)

245 pages 
 Europeans were not as magnificent as they believed, but they were able to organize large collections of people and capital and to exploit physical reality for useful knowledge and for power more efficiently than any other people [starting in the late Middle Ages]. Why?
Preface, (p. x)
Historian Alfred W. Crosby has written several books on the cultural and ecological effects of European expansion into the world. As he states in the Preface to his book The Measure of Reality however, his work in those areas left him with a nagging question: What made European imperialism so successful? A number of historians and anthropologists have considered and written on this question over the years, perhaps most famously Jared Diamond in Guns, Germs and Steel; in The Measure of Reality
Crosby presents his answers to the origins of the European advantage.

With the book’s subtitle, Quantification and Western Society, 1250-1600, Crosby tips his hand: the key feature leading to Western European success, he concludes, was a transformation in their perception of the physical world. He argues that Western Europeans had held a qualitative understanding of their world since classical antiquity, but that during the late Middle Ages they began to question their model of reality, and that under the pressure of this questioning it gradually gave way to a new, quantitative view. He concludes that the fundamental European advantage as they expanded into and colonized much of the world is not to be found in a particular technology, or a biological or ecological happenstance, but rather in their “new way … of perceiving time, space, and material environment” (p. 227).

Crosby divides his analysis of the causes of this critical transformation into two parts. The first half describes the qualitative nature of Western European thinking in the early Middle Ages, and then goes on to review what Crosby feels were some important conditions present in Western Europe that served as prerequisites for the transition to the new way of thinking, and some prominent developments during this time that he give evidence of the transition in progress. In the second set of chapters Crosby highlights the areas he feels led to “striking the match,” that is, that were the principal causes of the transition to what he refers to as the new Western European "mentalité."

Crosby begins by exploring the set of beliefs about the world and perceptions of their physical reality that Western Europeans held well into the heart of the Middle Ages, what he refers to as the “Venerable Model.” A key feature of this view of the world was its qualitative nature: Western European knowledge of the physical world at the end of the first millennium was, according to Crosby, more a dramatic narrative than a measured description. He recounts, for example, that many “known things” were tied to the bible and not considered as even needing to be questioned; that numbers could have qualitative meaning, with some being better or more appropriate than others, such as the number three being tied to the Holy Trinity; and that reality was perceived as heterogeneous, so that just because something behaved in a particular way where one lived, did not mean that it could not behave in a radically different way in some far-away place. What the Venerable Model gave Western Europeans, Crosby argues, was an understanding of reality and their world that provided “structures and processes that a person could live with emotionally as well as comprehend intellectually” (p. 22). This model did not, however, invite questioning or evaluation of its fundamental meaning or accuracy.

Crosby then proceeds to outline the conditions in Europe that laid the groundwork for the radical changes in Western ways of thinking that he feels occurred beginning in the 1300’s. He refers to these as the “oxygen and combustibles,” but advises us not to confuse them with the true causes that eventually led to the transformation in thinking.

One such condition was the arrival into Europe of translations of the works of Greek scholars of antiquity such as Plato and Aristotle. The Europeans revered these ancient scholars as a part of their cultural heritage, but most of these classical works had been lost during the centuries of the Middle Ages after the fall of the Roman Empire. Arab scholars, however, had preserved these works, and contact between Arabs and Western European Christian and Jewish scholars in the late Middle Ages re-introduced the texts into Europe, causing an upheaval in European thinking. Western scholars could not dismiss the classical works out of hand because of their importance in European cultural history, but in trying to align the new knowledge with the existing Venerable Model they were forced to develop increasing complex and often contradictory explanations. Thus, the existing Western view of the physical world was suddenly thrown open to question and examination. Once this door opened to questioning previously accepted truths, it could not so easily be shut again. Crosby also notes that the study of the large numbers of these new texts led to the development of novel ways of cataloging and organizing information, and to the tendency to quantitatively measure what was being studied to be able to make clearer statements about it.

A second condition present in Europe was the growth of a new merchant class.  Crosby states  that the elites of the church and state found this development difficult to control, and that as it grew in size, it  drove changes in Western behavior and thinking. For one, to increase their profits the merchants began developing machines, thus becoming drivers of new technologies. In addition, their increasing commercial activity with far-away and previously only dimly known lands brought with it the introduction of new ideas and knowledge which often challenged Western European’s existing beliefs and understanding.

A third condition, which in fact reinforced the first two, was the division of Europe into many kingdoms, small and large, representing a variety of political, religious and intellectual outlooks. Crosby argues that the lack of the centralization, and so standardization, present in many other parts of the world made Europe a fertile ground for new ideas. Scholars who became unwelcome for their studies in one kingdom, for example, could often find refuge and continue their work in another where the cultural and intellectual environment was more welcoming (or simply because the two kingdoms happened to be in competition). The variety of kingdoms also fostered the independence of merchants due to the fact that the elites own hold on power often depended heavily on the abilities and wealth of their merchants.

Finally, the re-introduction of money played an important role in the transformation to a quantitative way of thinking about the world. Crosby notes that although the Roman Empire had used cash, Western Europeans did not for much of the Middle Ages. As the merchant class and thus commercial activity expanded, money was re-discovered as an efficient way to give items and work a measurable worth. With the advantages of using money, however, came also challenges: the various kingdoms created different currencies, and in addition Europe found itself chronically short of money due to limited and already exploited gold and silver deposits. These challenges led to a high emphasis being placed on developing new ways of tracking and valuing money --- “no people on earth [were] more obsessed with counting and counting and counting” (p.74) states Crosby.

Having established the “oxygen and combustibles” leading to the transformation in Western Europe away from a qualitative view of the world, Crosby next looks at some specific areas that saw dramatic and influential changes. In separate chapters on Time, Space and Mathematics he shows how advances in these areas provide evidence of the new way of thinking that was developing.  He cautions us that the developments in these areas represent only “necessary but insufficient causes” of the transformation in Western European perception of the world, and that he describes them in part to ensure we do not mistake them for the true causes, which he outlines in the second half of the book.

The chapter on Time describes how Europeans moved from having hours in the day which could vary in number and length from country to country and even season to season, to defining a standard, consistent, universally applied measurement of time, and the fascinating story of the development of the first mechanical clocks. It also reviews the gradual switch to a more accurate, standardized calendar led by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582, though he notes that some orthodox and protestant Christians clung to their unreformed calendar for centuries afterwards in protest.

Moving to the changes in Western perceptions of Space, Crosby describes how the introduction of the compass from Asia and the increased commercial travel between distant ports drove the preparation of better and more accurate maps, and so more generally to a new understanding of geography and spatial relationships --- again a move away from a qualitative view to a more measurable, structured view. Ultimately this led to the questioning and finally overturning of the Venerable Model’s view of the universe as concentric spheres with Earth as the center.

Crosby concludes the first half of his book with a review of the significant developments made in the area of Mathematics. He describes how in the late Middle Ages, Europeans gradually switched from using Roman numerals to the Hindu-Arabic numbers we are familiar with today; over time came also the definition of symbolic operators such as the ‘plus’ and ‘minus’ signs. These changes simplified the work of counting and calculation for merchants trying to track their business dealings as well as the investigation and description of the physical world for scientists. They also enabled rapid developments in areas such as algebra and geometry, which would in turn impact a broad range of other human activities, including the arts.

But these advances in mathematics and new understandings of time and space, while evidence of the transition in Western Europe to a new, quantitative way of thinking about the physical world, were not its ultimate causes according to Crosby. He defines them as “necessary but insufficient causes” and, having detailed the prerequisite conditions present in Europe during the late Middle Ages, as well as these “insufficient causes,” he turns his attention in the second half of the book to what he feels were in fact the true causes of the new Western European mentalité.

Playing off his naming of these true causes as “the striking of the match,” Crosby asks the following question: given the “oxygen and combustibles” present in Western Europe in the late Middle Ages, what lit the flames that served to destroy the old ways of thinking about the physical world, and so permitted Western European thinking about time and space and mathematics to take on the quantitative form and structure so familiar to us today? For Crosby, the triggers came out of radical advancements in three areas: Music, Painting, and Bookkeeping. In separate chapters he examines how developments in these three subjects led Western Europeans to develop a less qualitative, more quantitative world view.

He looks first at dramatic changes that took place in Western European view of music. Up until about 1000 A.D., Crosby notes that music was mostly liturgical, and performed from memory; it was also monophonic, with the musical structure dictated by the Latin text. Eventually, however, the canon of works became too large and difficult to memorize, and had to be written down, which drove the development of some way to clarify to a reader of the music such things as pitch and timing. By the 11th century, what we recognize today as the musical staff had been created, with symbols defined to indicate pitch, as well as other features of the music. (Crosby makes a wonderful digression here, explaining the source of the now universally known “do, re, mi …” sequence.) Thus, music became “visualized,” a critical development; suddenly it could be subjected to mathematical analysis and understating, and complex, polyphonic music could be created visually, on paper --- centuries later this meant that Beethoven could continue to compose music even after he became deaf, because from seeing it on the page he could hear it in his head. More generally, these new methods moved beyond the church, to street musicians and other entertainers --- spreading with them a quantitative mindset where before only a qualitative view had been present.

Crosby next turns his attention to painters, and in particular the development of perspective in painting. He notes that Medieval pictures could have multiple “nows” depicted at once, essentially telling a changing story in one painting; similarly they could depict an object from several viewpoints at once, or use exaggerated size to show relative importance. Thus a qualitative view of a scene or image was represented, as opposed to one which attempted to capture the physical reality seen by the artist. Beginning in the 1300’s according to Crosby, Western Europe began encountering examples of different styles of art from outside lands, and by the 1400’s was developing a growing obsession with the mathematics of optics and geometry. The exposure to other art opened Western European artists to the idea of new ways to represent scenes, and some began introducing more accurate perspective into their paintings, if not always consistently. As the mathematics around optics and geometry became more fully developed and formalized, artists used the new knowledge to pursue perspective in their paintings more rigorously, and sought to create as realistic a representation of reality in their paintings as possible. Thus the influences of increasing trade along with the developments in mathematics led to new ways of thinking about painting which encouraged a quantitative and realistic view of the physical world.

The third area which Crosby states played a critical role in developing the new European mentalité is that of bookkeeping --- a seemingly mundane topic, though in Crosby’s telling it is anything but. Before the 10th century, most goods were sold by peddlers: individuals who had a limited stock, which they sold over a limited area, and so who had little need to keep detailed track of their accounts. By the 10th century, peddlers were turning into merchants, trading in a variety of goods and in many different locations. As commerce increased it became critical to be able to track it accurately. Crosby states that merchants initially used a kind of narrative style for this tracking, similar to a diary. This narrative approach gradually evolved into a more quantitative, mathematical accounting, first with the switch from using Roman numerals to Hindu-Arabic numbers, then, in a major step that he writes was first taken in Italy, the development of double-entry bookkeeping. With these new developments, a merchant’s accounts and standing could relatively clearly and accurately be tracked and analyzed. The new techniques eventually allowed the development of companies and bureaucracies, entities that would have the ability to initiate and control businesses and lands world-wide.

Crosby concludes then that the significant and fundamental changes that occurred in the areas of music, painting and bookkeeping during the late Middle Ages opened the minds of Western Europeans to a new way of perceiving their physical world. The key element of this new view was its quantitative nature: it became acceptable and normal to subject and constrain the world to a standardized, measurable basis. With this new mentalité in place, dramatic advances in science, technology and business became possible, leading in turn to improvements in areas such as military armaments and commercial organization that would provide a nearly invincible advantage for Europeans as they colonized and exploited the physical world beyond their shores.

Reaching the end of the book, however, I thought back to the original question in the Preface: “Europeans …were able to organize large collections of people and capital and to exploit physical reality for useful knowledge and for power more efficiently than any other people…. Why?”  Although Crosby makes a convincing case for the development of this new quantitative mindset in Western Europe, from defining the “oxygen and combustibles” to describing what he feels constituted the “striking of the match” and the proximate advances that resulted, I found myself differing with him on where to place the emphasis. Say we agree with the general flow of his argument: that a new mentalité gave Europe the advantages it needed to dominate much of the globe from the 15th century onward, that this new way of thinking arose in particular from dramatic changes in how Europeans thought about music, art and bookkeeping (“the striking of the match”), and finally that these changes were possible because of the specific set of conditions that existed in Europe in the late Middle Ages. Accepting that sequence as reasonable, is it not the “oxygen and combustibles” that must be considered the most critical element, the key to the whole transformation? The counter argument would be that these conditions existed or could have existed elsewhere in the world (in China, say, or India, Africa or the Americas), but that the people in these other societies were not able or would not have been able to “strike the match”. I suppose it could be argued that non-Europeans were somehow genetically or environmentally unable to make use of similar “oxygen and combustibles,” but I struggle to see that as a reasonable conclusion.

Instead of accepting that line of argument, I am drawn back to Crosby’s description of the situation that existed in Western Europe during the late Middle Ages, and in particular the confluence of two critical conditions he points out --- two of his “oxygen and combustibles.” First, Europe was a collection of small-to-large kingdoms, and not standardized or centralized around a particular set of religious, political or intellectual ideas, which enabled scholars and others to move to a more welcoming neighboring state if necessary, and thus allowed new ideas to grow and develop with less risk of being squashed out by the existing elite. Second, into this diverse constellation of kingdoms arrived texts from the ancient Greek philosophers, works that had been lost for nearly a millennium, but that Europeans viewed as part of their heritage. Given the revered status these ancient Greek scholars held in European culture, the new knowledge gained from these texts could not be dismissed out of hand despite the fact that much of it conflicted with the existing, accepted European view of the world. Thus European scholars were forced to develop and adapt their view of reality to account for the new information, and once that path was opened --- once such questioning was accepted --- there was no turning back.

With this confluence of conditions, this set of “oxygen and combustibles” to refer back to Crosby’s analogy, could it not be argued that it was only a matter of time before “the striking of the match” took place? That the changes in music, painting and bookkeeping, and other areas, were the not surprising outcome of a society that was questioning its most fundamental beliefs? The situation that existed at that point in European history seems to me to have constituted a unique environment, which permitted the dramatic Western European expansion in knowledge and then power that followed. (And, if one considers the introduction of the ancient Greek works back into Western Europe as a critical component in Europe’s eventual rise to power, then the fact that this transfer occurred from the Arabs to the Europeans largely as a result of scholarly exchange in Moorish (Arab) occupied Spain seems rather ironic in light of today’s so-called battle of civilizations.) If another part of the world had experienced the same confluence of conditions, is it reasonable to assume they would not have developed a new mentalité, a quantitative view of the world?

All of this quibbling about true causes aside, Crosby has written an engaging narrative describing the Western European transition to a qualitative view of their physical world. Don’t let the somewhat dry and esoteric sounding title of the book dissuade you; in this review I have outlined his thesis, but in each chapter of the book he introduces us to key moments and people in the slow but steady march through this transformative time in world history. We discover surprising facts about this period, and about the origins of our current way of perceiving the world and operating in it. As just one example: I have little musical training or background, but I found his chapter on the changes that occurred in music in the late Middle Ages fascinating and thought-provoking. And my reaction to the rest of the book was similar. Beyond the fundamental question that Crosby wants to answer with his book --- wherefore the European advantage --- we come away with an often startling new understanding of how many of the things we take today as common sense actually came to be developed not so very long ago.
 

Other reviews / information:
This book has been on my to-read shelf for a while (since 1997 actually), and when I finally pulled it down a couple of weeks ago, I saw the name Alfred Crosby and noticed that he had written books on The Columbian Exchange and Ecological Imperialism, and it rang a bell. Going back to look at Charles Mann’s book 1493 (find my review here), I realized this was the same Crosby who Mann writes of as having helped stimulate his interest in the subject, and so leading to his research and books, which also include 1491 (find my review here).

A critical point of interface in medieval Europe was in Moorish Spain, were Arab, Christian and Jewish scholars came together, as detailed in books such as Moorish Spain by Richard Fletcher, and The Ornament of the World: How Muslims, Jews, and Christians Created a Culture of Tolerance in Medieval Spain by María Rosa Menocal.

Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf