Sunday, January 26, 2014

Book Review: "The War Prayer" by Mark Twain

The War Prayer (1905)
Mark Twain (1835-1910)


85 pages
To Dan Beard, who dropped in to see him,
Clemens read the “War Prayer,” stating that
he had read it to his daughter Jean,
and others, who had told him he must not
print it, for it would be regarded as sacrilege.

“Still, you are going to publish it, are you not?”

Clemens, pacing up and down the room
in his dressing gown and slippers,
shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I have told the whole truth
in that, and only dead men can tell the truth
in this world.

“It can be published after I am dead.”
From: Mark Twain, A Biography by Albert Bigelow Paine
Harper & Brothers, 1912 

This recollection serves as the Forward to The War Prayer by Mark Twain. (Twain’s real name was Samuel Clemens; Dan Beard was an illustrator who work on several of Twain’s books.) Reading The War Prayer one can understand Twain’s hesitation. This powerful short story represents a carefully crafted indictment of the feverish righteousness and thoughtless jingoism that leads to the glorification of war, and that can bring forth cheering crowds of soldiers, their loved ones and also their envious “neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag or failing, die the noblest of noble deaths.”

In the story, Twain turns the tables on these cheering masses as they gather in church before the troops head for the front, where the preacher beseeches God to watch over “our noble young soldiers and aid … them in their patriotic work; … [and] help them to crush the foe.” As the preacher finishes his rousing speech “an aged stranger” enters the church, and ascends to where the preacher stands before the crowd. After some moments silently staring down at the crowd, he announces to them “I come from the Throne --- bearing a message from Almighty God,” and proceeds to describe to them the “full import,” the “unspoken” in what they have asked of God. He lays bare for the crowd the gruesome reality behind their requests to God, the horror of the war for which they cheer so mightily.

Based on what I’ve learned, the story was originally written in 1905, but not published until 1923, after Twain’s death. The Perennial Library edition I have logs in at 85 pages, but the story is really only a relatively short text, spread out among many illustrations, with sometimes only a few words or lines per page. The illustrations were created by John Groth in 1968, and are hauntingly arresting ink drawings that complement the story perfectly; the book cover, pictured above, shows an example. One can easily imagine the impetus for these drawings, and the reprint of the book itself, arising out of the growing anti-war sentiment of the late 1960’s. The book is as brilliant and concise an anti-war statement as can be found.


Other reviews / information:

For another amazing anti-war piece, see the short story The Dog of Dürer in Marco Denevi's Falsificaciones (Falsifications).
 
A sentiment similar to that expressed by Twain in The War Prayer appears in a novel from 1938 by the German writer Erich Wiechert, The Simple Life (Das einfache Leben; my review here). In that story, a man who finds himself lost in an existential crisis in the wake of his experiences in the first world war seeks out a new life of simple labor in the countryside. Finding profound and compelling meaning in the work and natural surroundings of his new life, he begins to reconsider the meaning of the faith he grew up with.  Questioning the character of God, or perhaps more precisely, the commonly accepted image of God held by his fellow countrymen, he decides:

...I will find a different face [of God]. Not one that is to be beseeched, and not one that is to be thanked. Not one before whom people will begin shouting: “Now thank all ye God!”, if they have just beaten to death a thousand or ten thousand men. Because then must the others clearly be shouting: “Now curse all ye God.” (241)


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, January 24, 2014

Book Review: "Disgrace" by J. M. Coetzee

Disgrace (1999)
J. M. Coetzee (1940)











220 pages

In the New York Times Book Review a few months back, two essays appeared in the Bookends section that considered the question of whether it is important for readers to like the characters in a novel. I don’t recall how the two writers came out on the question, but I remember thinking that, for me, although I don’t feel that I need to particularly like the characters of a story, or agree with their world view or their actions, it would be difficult to read a novel built around a main character who I fundamentally dislike. Then again, if one believes Carl Jung’s claim, it may be that such a book is the best one to read: “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”

Which brings me to J. M. Coetzee’s novel Disgrace, and its main character David Lurie, who I admit I found extremely difficult to like. Lurie, in his early 50’s and divorced, is a professor of literature at a university in Cape Town, South Africa. Early in the story he meets one of his students, twenty year old Melanie, while walking across campus, and in short order prevails upon her to have sex with him. Events quickly spin out of his control, and soon the university has expelled him. Shunned by the university community and his neighbors, he leaves Cape Town and heads across South Africa to the home of his daughter, Lucy, who lives on a small plot of land in the countryside. There she boards dogs and raises produce for the local farmer’s market. The transition for Lurie from his urbane, university lifestyle could not be more dramatic.

From my summary so far, Lurie is simply a character exhibiting his humanity, flaws and all. But then we turn to his personality. He arrives at his daughter’s doorstep “disgraced,” as he puts it, and yet immediately begins to judge her lifestyle and life-choices, as he does with everyone he meets in the novel, even those from his past who he only thinks about. And he doesn’t keep his opinions to himself; insufferably smug and self-righteous, he criticizes most everyone he meets, whether the university committee members who bend over backwards trying to find a resolution short of expelling him, or his daughter and her friends and neighbors. And he appears to wear his disgrace as a badge of honor, proudly describing to his daughter how he did not give in to the investigating committee, did not allow any compromise that would impugn on what he found to be the romantic and poetic beauty of his love for Melanie, irrespective of her being his student. Most disturbingly, though he at times recognizes the effect his actions or words have on others, this self-recognition at most moves him to pity them, not to hold back his pointed comments. Lurie is a difficult character to stand, and as a reader I often wanted to reach into the pages, grab hold of his shoulders and give him a good shake.

Which Coetzee then does for us, as South Africa’s post-apartheid history rides hard into the lives of Lurie and his daughter. The moment arrives with little or no warning for them, or for the reader, and it changes completely the physical and psychological trajectory of the story. As Lurie attempts to come to grips with what has happened, he first turns angry, trying to manage the aftermath with the overarching self-assuredness that comes naturally to him. But the incident has shaken him deeply; where he had earlier confidently justified to himself his coercion of a student into bed, or his high-handed disdain for his university colleagues, he now finds himself unable to make things right again, or even shepherd them in a direction he finds appropriate. Suddenly isolated and at a loss how to move forward, he struggles to recreate himself as he contemplates his now shattered self-confidence and emasculated wit. Moving between his old home in Cape Town, and living near his daughter to support her, he passes through a kind of wilderness of the soul as he seeks a new basis for his life.

Disgrace begins as a character study of a man deeply set in his rather pedantic ways, before becoming, in hardly more than an instant, the story of someone forced to recognize and confront his advancing age and abrasive personality. In that same pivotal moment Coetzee shifts the place of the novel under the readers feet, from a nearly generic anywhere to a harsh and bracing commentary on modern South Africa and its apartheid past --- a past that can seem like a distant memory only a heartbeat before it comes exploding back into the present. And the disgrace that opens the novel, the one that Lurie can appear to wear as a badge of honor: that disgrace suddenly pales before real disgrace, violently imposed, whether individually or collectively, leaving a stain difficult to bear.

Read quotes from this book

Other reviews / information:

I have also reviewed Coetzee's novel Waiting for the Barbarians.
 

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, January 19, 2014

Book Review: "2312" by Kim Stanley Robinson

2312 (2012)

Kim Stanley Robinson (1952)











660 pages

Science fiction stories tend to imagine one of two distinct futures for humanity: a collapse into dystopian chaos, or a transcendent shift into a more advanced phase of existence. Dystopian societies have been generally described as resulting from both unforeseeable events, such as an asteroid hit or alien invasion, or unsustainable choices, such as human environmental or political shortsightedness. More optimistic writers have shown us overcoming and moving beyond our self-induced difficulties --- often after teetering on the brink of disaster --- to move ahead together to explore space as a united world.

In 2312, Kim Stanley Robinson envisions what could be considered a third, middle path into our future, one in which humanity survives, and science and technology continue their accelerated development, but in which people are fundamentally little different from us today. Looking three centuries into our future, Robinson assumes that a too long delayed response to global warming has led to significant ice melt and so rise in ocean levels. Inundated coastal areas have either been abandoned or had their cities built up Venetian-style, with skyscrapers towering over flooded former streets, and people using built-up promenades and boats to get around. Looking for relief, and resources to use on Earth, mankind has moved out into the solar system, establishing laboratories and mining settlements on other worlds. On planets, moons and asteroids communities and eventually colonies have grown from these initial footholds; in some places terraforming has been done to create human-habitable climates, while in others covered cities have been built. Technological development in the areas of computing power and robots threatens to cross that difficult-to-define boundary into the dream (or nightmare?) of artificial intelligence. Perhaps most dramatically, scientific understanding and developments have led to radical changes in medicine and human biology, leading to significantly longer life spans, and the emergence of what can best be referred to as new varieties of people, with extremely small or tall body types say, or mixtures of male and female characteristics.

Yet despite all of these marvels, in Robinson’s imagined future human nature has not fundamentally changed from our present day. The science and technology that have allowed expansion into the solar system have not resolved Earth’s significant problems: it remains a densely populated world with extreme inequality and balkanized politics. The colonies, for their part, have largely resolved the inequality issues that plague Earth, but people have carried their tendencies toward nationalism and provincialism out into the solar system; even as the colonies have grown independent of the Earth-side nations that founded them, and trade and travel have flourished, they struggle among themselves for access to and control of the resources of the solar system. And although Earth and these off-world communities remain reliant on one another in significant ways, their interactions are marked by escalating tensions; Earth-bound societies envy the prosperity of the colonies, which, aided by the limitations inherent to the physical realities of their off-world existence, have been able to experiment with new, more effective economic and political regimes.

These rising tensions in the solar system drive Robinson’s plot, his novel being part vision of our future and part detective story. His main character is Swan Er Hong, an artist living in a city on Mercury, who finds herself thrust into the middle of a mystery as the story opens, when her grandmother dies of apparently natural causes. Swan discovers that her grandmother had been leading a system-wide group of people trying to find a way to counter what they see as the growing threats from balkanization of political power across the solar system. Though she initially hesitates to join the group, the need for action becomes clear to her when an attack destroys her city on Mercury. She joins her new partners as they move back and forth through the solar system over a period of years struggling to understand who is at the center of the Mercury attack and other similar disasters, and how to stop them. In the year 2312 events come to a head, as conflicting parties struggle to impose their will on events that will impact the future development of civilization on Earth and throughout the solar system.

Despite the plot that ties the story together, Robinson’s novel is not a simple action-adventure story. It develops slowly, moments of drama alternating with sections that introduce to us the outlines of this future world. Chapters that advance the plot are interlaced with several titled simply “Lists”, which itemize things or ideas, confronting the reader with the variety of this future world, and still others labeled “Extracts”, which contain a few pages of what appear to be brief passages from some far future encyclopedia, looking back at the events leading up to this pivotal year of 2312. 

All of these parts together present to us Robinson’s imaginative take on how our present day world will develop into the future, which can perhaps best be captured in his reference to “Jevons Paradox, which states that the better human technology gets, the more harm we do with it.”(348) Robinson makes clear that in 2312, the jury remains out on whether Jevons Paradox stands as an ineluctable destiny, or a fate that can be overcome; his main characters fervently desire to believe the latter, but events continuously conspire against their hopes. (William Stanley Jevons was an 1865 economist.)

Throughout the novel, Robinson leaves little doubt about where he sees our current choices leading us; in one of the Extracts chapters a future historian looks back, stating:
the space diaspora occurred as late capitalism writhed in its internal decision concerning whether to destroy Earth’s biosphere or change its rules. Many argued for the destruction of the biosphere, as being the lesser of two evils. (138)
 In a similar vein, his main character, as she struggles to provide aid back to Earth and its people, observes with frustration the plight of the masses at the bottom of the income ladder:
Humans were still not only the cheapest robots around, but also, for many tasks, the only robots that could do the job. They were self-reproducing robots too. They showed up and worked, generation after generation; give them three thousand calories a day and few amenities, a little time off, and a strong jolt of fear, and you could work them at almost anything. (350)

Enter Robinson’s world of 2312 not for the action and adventure, though his story also succeeds on that level, but rather to immerse yourself in a vision of what our collective future world could become. The detective story that drives the plot develops rather slowly through this book’s 600-plus pages, and ultimately the struggles and experiences of the characters as they uncover the dangerous forces at play in the solar system serve as only a part of the whole in our understanding of this future world Robinson imagines. What fleshes out his vision for us are the ideas and future-history Robinson details in the interludes and asides to the main story; in these we discover one of human kind’s possible futures, and how it will be driven by the consequences of the political and economic choices we are making today, and as well as our inherent capabilities and limitations.


Read quotes from this book

Other reviews / information:

Maybe better to check-out after you finish reading the book, as I suppose it represents a very minor 'Spoiler', but there is an interesting representation of one aspect of the story at Orbit Books.


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, December 15, 2013

Book Review: "Falsificaciones" by Marco Denevi

Falsificaciones [Falsifications] (1966) 

Marco Denevi (1922-98)











159 pages
Jonah and the Whale 

Jonah harassed the whale, insulted it, provoked it, told it that it fed on small fish but was incapable of devouring a man, called it a herring, a little bream and other offensive epithets. Eventually the whale, fed up with finding itself so vilified, or perhaps to shut-up this madman, swallowed Jonah without causing him the least injury. Once inside the belly of the whale, Jonah began running to and fro. He barked wildly, and punched and kicked the walls of the whale’s stomach. Within a few hours the whale, sick with nausea, vomited Jonah onto the bench. Jonah told everyone that he had spent a year inside the whale; he invented heroic adventures, and declared that the whale was afraid of him. Moral: if you are large and powerful like a whale, and some sort of Jonah defies you, don’t devour him, because you will vomit him transformed into a hero.

Marco Denevi turns the well-known parable of Jonah being swallowed by the whale on its head in his book Falsificaciones (in English: Falsifications), inventing a new version and moral for the ancient parable. In some seven dozen similar vignettes in the book --- running from a few lines to a few pages --- Denevi reaches back to mostly familiar scenes from mythology, literature and the Bible, and bends them to his will, creating idiosyncratic but enchanting alternative explanations for stories we assumed we knew and understood.

Falsifications has a similar structure and feel to Denevi’s book The Garden of Delights: Erotic Myths (in Spanish: El Jardín de las Delicias: Mitos Eróticos; find my review here). Whereas in The Garden of Delights Denevi focused on human struggles and whims in romance and loving, with Falsifications he takes on a broader scope, examining all manner of human foibles. Tales of eros of course have there place in these alternative narratives created by Denevi, but so too do stories of prideful vanity, grasping greed and blind hero-worship. In each case Denevi seems to humanize these old stories, introducing behaviors and motivations that make the original versions of the stories seem quaint and idealized.

In a brilliant several pages of imagination, for example, Denevi creates a story based on a famous old painting by Albrecht Dürer called The Horse, Death, and the Devil. Titled The Dog of Dürer, in reference to a hound that accompanies the knight in the painting, Denevi’s tale skewers jingoism and the supposed joy of battle, and lays bare the awful realities of war. He paints, in words, the future that lies before the returning warrior, forever changed from traumatic experiences incomprehensible to the society which awaits him. The story has a bit of the feel of Twain’s The War Prayer, but from the point of view after the fighting has, for that moment in history at least, concluded. I would argue that it represents as powerful an anti-war statement as can be made.


As with The Garden of Delights, I have unfortunately not found that there exists an English translation of Falsifications. But, if you know a little Spanish, and are willing to work through the book with a Spanish-English dictionary at your side, these stories are well worth the effort.


Other reviews / information:

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, December 8, 2013

Book Review: "The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes"

The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes (1554)  

Translated by W.S. Merwin

118 pages

Historical fiction, at its best, can transport readers into a past era in a way that a history book generally can not. When the historical fiction was also written during the time in which it is set, the benefits can be multiplied --- just reading a story written in a distant age provides its own special window into that time.

The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes, first published in Spain in 1554 by an anonymous author, satisfies on both counts by taking us back to life in mid-16th century Spain through both the story itself, as well as its writing and presentation. The book is apparently considered to be one of the first picaresque novels. (In case you have to look that up, as I did, Merriam-Webster defines it as “a type of fiction dealing with the episodic adventures of a usually roguish protagonist” --- think Huckleberry Finn; picaresque comes from the Spanish word pícaro, which can refer to a ‘crafty devil.’)

Lazaro de Tormes --- Lazarillo being a diminutive of Lazaro --- narrates the story, recounting his life as an itinerant worker in central Spain to someone he refers to as “Your Excellency,” who “has written to ask for a full account”(5) of his life. Lazaro states that he lost his father when he was eight years old, and his mother could eventually no longer support him and so gave him over into the keeping of a blind man who passed through their town. The blind man became Lazaro’s first master, and through his nasty and tight-fisted ways, taught Lazaro harsh lessons about the difficult life of the poor. Even as he suffered under the cruel treatment of the blind man, Lazaro watched him ply his myriad of tricks for defrauding people in town after town; as Lazaro says upon leaving him, “the blind sinner had taught me a great many things.”

After escaping the blind man’s control Lazaro wanders from place to place, finding jobs with masters each more miserly than the last, whether priest or squire, constable or seller of papal indulgences. Each of Lazaro’s masters represents an archetype of Spanish life in the 1500’s, and the anonymous author spares none of them his sharp pen. The novel stands as a scathing critique of clerics more worried about their own pleasure than the lives of their parishioner or the poor, and nobility more concerned about appearances and honor than in doing an honest day’s work.

History books on Spanish describe the disintegration that began in Spain and its economy in the 1500’s after the initial boom time that came from the silver and gold discovered in the New World. Much of these riches from the colonies ended up squandered on religious wars throughout Europe, while a significant part of the rest often found its way into the coffers of the church in Spain. Many people followed that money, entering religious institutions instead of working to earn a living; the Spanish have a disparaging expression for this that translates as these people having entered the contemplative life. The gentlemen class too had little interest in getting their hands dirty working, too busy worrying about protecting their honor. The Life of Lazarillo de Tormes depicts these times in a novel form, and the accuracy of the representation can be judged by how quickly the Inquisition in Spain banned the book after publication.

The story is a short 118 pages, and split into roughly one chapter per master for whom Lazaro works. The author skips any detailed description of the countryside or towns through with Lazaro passes, and also avoids full character development in the story. He focuses instead on describing the basest characteristics associated with various vocations at that time in Spain by representing the selfishness, greed and laziness that Lazaro observes in his string of masters. Clearly meant as a critique of his fellow countrymen in 16th century Spain, the anonymous author brings to us, centuries later, a tiny window into the world of his time.


Other reviews / information:
The cover is a detail from the painting by Francisco de Goya, Pilgrimage to San Isidoro.

This book is part of a wonderful series published by NYRB: New York Review Books.



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, December 5, 2013

Book Review: "Dust" by Hugh Howey

Dust (2013)
Hugh Howey (1975)

458 pages

[Note: although I make it a point to not include spoilers in my reviews, this is the third book in a trilogy, and it's not possible to write about it without including some context from the earlier books, Wool and Shift.  So, if you haven't read the first book, Wool, I suggest you jump back to my review here; if you haven't read the second book, Shift, I suggest you jump back to my review here.]

In his science fiction novel Wool (my review here), Hugh Howey launched readers on a wild ride through a wonderfully imagined, if horribly deformed, world: a silo that, rather than rising up to the sky, lies instead buried in the earth. Extending deep underground, the silo houses a community the size of a large town. Afraid of the poisoned landscape they can see only through cameras mounted on the surface, the people of the silo live, work, give birth and die all within their concrete home, the only world they know; curiosity about the outside and the silo’s past have become this society’s most fundamental taboos. For some, however, the desire to understand what guides their existence and what remains hidden from their view overcomes these prohibitions, with dangerous consequences for themselves and the stability of their community’s world. Howey’s sequel, Shift (my review here), continues the story, reaching back into the past to events leading up to the creation of this dystopia, even as the struggles in the silo’s present spin out of control.

The third book in the series, Dust, has now been released. Bringing together the threads begun in the first two books, Howey continues the thrilling pace in this sequel, the tension building with every page. In Dust the struggles of the characters in the first two books evolve into an escalating fight for survival, as opposing viewpoints on how this artificially created world should move forward become locked in a life-or-death struggle; decisions about the community’s future quite literally become the ultimate ‘game of life’. Ironically, even as the tension rises over the course of the three books, the focus of events moves down the silo, deep into the earth. It is those in the community most distant and disconnected from the surface who must lead the way back there.

As in the first two novels, though we come to know some of the history and motivations of a few of the main characters, the trilogy is not built around deep character development. Howey’s focus in Dust remains on the broader psychological aspects of the situation and its effects on this community living underground in their circumscribed home. How have these people, so seemingly similar to us in how they go about their daily lives, managed to adapt to what would seem to be from our perspective an inhuman situation? And even more critically, how will they adjust to the sudden revelations about their world, revelations that will shake the foundations of their beliefs and understanding?

This third book provides a satisfying conclusion to the series, an entertaining resolution to the taut story line that was created for the reader from the first pages of Wool. And though Howey seems to point at Dust as being the conclusion of this story, giving it the subtitle “Every Beginning Has An End,” the final pages of Dust create a new kind of beginning --- so we may yet find that three books are not the upper limit of this trilogy.


Other reviews / information:
 
(Mild Spoiler Alert:)
It’s difficult, particularly in a science fiction novel, to have everything ‘add-up’, to seem completely logical, and Howey generally does a fine job of that in these stories. One thing surprised me however: at the end of Dust, when those who have escaped their silo gather outside, and beyond the dead zone round the silos, they discuss where to go next, and there is no mention of the sky scrapers (of Atlanta) that they have seen and wondered at through the cameras of the silos. Even if it’s clear they wouldn’t want to settle in a destroyed city, it’s hard to imagine they wouldn’t be intensely curious about it, and at least go for a look…

Howey has published a collection of short stories, Machine Learning (my review here), that includes a tryptic of stories collectively grouped as Silo Stories, and that span the period of the Silo Trilogy.  The three tales form a wonderful complement to the original trilogy.


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, November 28, 2013

Book Review: "1493" from Charles Mann

1493 (2011)  
Charles Mann (1955)

690 pages

Two hundred and fifty million years ago the world contained a single landmass known to scientists as Pangaea. Geological forces broke up this vast expanse, splitting Eurasia and the Americas. Over [millennia] the two divided halves of Pangaea developed wildly different suites of plants and animals. … After [Cristobal Colón’s voyage in] 1492 the world’s ecosystems collided and mixed as European vessels carried thousands of spices to new homes across the oceans. (7) 
With these lines near the beginning of 1493, author Charles Mann sets the stage for a fascinating exploration of the dramatic, far-reaching and largely unforeseen changes that occurred in the time after this sudden linking of the world’s hemispheres, an era he calls the Homogenocene, a period --- still on-going --- of global homogenization of economics, ecology and humanity. As in his earlier work, 1491, which described the American continents and their inhabitants before Colón, as Mann refers to Christopher Columbus throughout the book, first reached the New World, Mann enlivens his history by bringing in anecdotes and stories from the diaries, journals and books of individuals who experienced the many upheavals that came with the interconnecting of the continents. Thus he personalizes for the reader what might otherwise have become just a forced march through a series of dry historical events and facts; in this way we don’t just learn about the changes that occurred, we also experience a bit of the awe, and the trauma, of those who lived through them.


In 1491 Mann naturally focused mainly on the Indian societies of the Americas, communities that from a European, Asian or African perspective may as well have been located on another planet before 1492. In 1493, by contrast, the world abruptly contracts as Europe, Asia, Africa and the Americas become linked together through a frenetic movement of people and goods, as well as plants and animals, across the globe. There is a delicious irony in the fact that although Colón solicited funds for his proposed expedition based on a significant underestimate of the size of the globe, and the world was actually much larger than he claimed, in the end he did indeed take a major step in effectively shrinking it for mankind. The subsequent speed with which settlements in the Americas multiplied and expanded in the 1500’s seems astounding today, knowing that Colón first reached the Americas in 1492 and that at the time a single crossing of the Atlantic took over a month to complete.

Mann opens the book by introducing the two key ocean crossings that established the links leading to our modern, interconnected world. The first, of course, led to Colón making landfall on what he called Hispaniola, an island in the Caribbean. The second expedition, some 65 years later, crossed the Pacific Ocean, as Miguel López de Legazpi and Andrés Ochoa de Urdaneta y Cerain made landfall in the Philippines and established the modern city of Manila (after leveling an exiting village whose ruler refused to make way for the Spaniards); though they were not the first to make the east to west crossing of the Pacific, it was Legazpi’s group who established contact and began trading via the Pacific route with the Chinese, whose junkets had long been coming yearly to the Philippines to sell their goods. As Mann summarizes: “[A] way to state their accomplishment would be to say that Legazpi and Urdaneta were to economics what Colón was to ecology: the origin, however inadvertent, of a great unification.” (24)

Having established how the world was linked together by these two daring voyages, Mann goes on to explore the impacts of this new reality on societies around the globe, impacts that have continued to our current time. Instead of telling his story chronologically, Mann splits the book into geographic sections. He begins by describing the connections across the Atlantic, and the establishment of the early settlements in the Americas, which initiated a significant ecological exchange between the Old World and the New. The intentional transfer of particular plants and animals in both directions across the Atlantic had lasting economic and human impacts in the Americas and Europe, as did the unintended introduction of other organisms, including devastating diseases. Malaria and yellow fever, for example, arrived in the New World, and proved to be as deadly to the Indians as to Europeans; but West Africans showed a significantly higher resistance to these diseases, which increased their worth as slaves, with all the devastating consequences that implies.

From the Atlantic Mann moves in the next section to the Pacific, and the trade routes formed between Asia, the Americas and Europe. He describes the transformations in Chinese society that resulted from the sudden dramatic expansion of trade with Europe; new markets opened for Chinese goods, leading to new industries for Chinese workers, while the introduction of previously unknown crops fundamentally altered Chinese agriculture and diet. In this section he also examines the discovery and subsequent large-scale mining of sliver lodes in South America, and the key role that this silver played in growing European trade with the Chinese.

The third section highlights the impact on societies around the world of new forms of intensive agriculture developed to meet growing demands of especially the European market. As one example, he looks in detail at the nearly complete transition in 18th century Ireland to potatoes as a food crop, and the deadly consequences in the 19th century, when the large, monoculture fields of potatoes became an easy target for potato blight, which arrived in Europe from the New World via the same trading routes that had earlier brought the potato. As a second example, Mann examines the discovery of rubber by Europeans in the Brazil, and the subsequent development of a processing technique that led to vulcanized rubber becoming a critical part of so many products of the industrial revolution. He describes how the ever increasing demand for rubber drove the creation of large scale plantations of rubber trees in many parts of the world, and warns of the risk that threatens our modern world if a particular spore that has already destroyed vast spreads of rubber trees in Brazil crosses the ocean to the plantations of south-east Asia.

Finally Mann turns to the human side of the Homogenocene. The Americas became a “crazy soup,” as he calls it, of people from around the world. Europeans, Asians and, involuntarily, millions of African slaves arrived in the New World, joining those (few) Indians in the hemisphere who survived the many introduced diseases that burned through their communities. The western hemisphere became the first melting pot, in which these groups intermingled, culturally and genetically. Mann also dedicates a significant portion of this final section to the groups of African slaves who escaped their masters and then fought to maintain their freedom, in many cases succeeding in establishing independent communities that lasted for decades and even centuries, a fascinating history that I had heard little about before now.

Although the focus varies from one section of the book to the next, the fundamental story remains the same: increasing economic, ecological and human exchanges between far-flung societies led to consequences that were generally unplanned, and often unexpected and uncontrollable. In each region of the world that Mann examines, societies realized positive developments from the exchange that developed after 1493; but often too they experienced what could in modern times be referred to by the term blowback: the unintended consequences of policies that initially seem beneficial. The rewards and risks of the Homogenocene that Mann recounts from four and five centuries ago resonate even into modern times in the concerns we hear and read about in the daily news.

Among the clearest examples of the unintended consequences of the Homogenocene are found in the intentional transfer of plants from the Americas to the rest of the world. In particular, maize, potatoes and sweet potatoes --- domesticated in the Americas --- were exported and became important crops elsewhere in the world in the years after 1493. Able to be grown on relatively marginal land, and providing more nutritional value per acre than many other crops, these plants quickly spread to Asia and Europe, becoming in a short period dietary staples in regions that had never known them before. The advantages were obvious as populations boomed in these new areas of cultivation as a result of the increased caloric and nutritional yield. Only later came the downsides: Mann describes, for example, how potatoes became the main food for a majority of the Irish in the late 1700’s and early 1800’s, and due to both the ease in growing them and their nutritional advantages, led to a significant increase in population. Then, without warning, the same trade routes that originally brought the potato from the new world in the 1500’s brought the potato blight, a disease which in the span of a few months in 1845 laid waste to Europe’s potato fields. In Ireland the effects were particularly devastating, given the significant part of the population that subsisted on potatoes; Mann points out that due to the famine caused deaths and emigration, Ireland’s modern day population remains less than it was in the mid-1800’s.

China too benefited --- and suffered --- from the plants it adopted from the new world, principally maize and sweet potatoes. Able to significantly expand agriculture with these crops into what had before been marginal, unused land, the population rose quickly. The planting of these crops continued to spread into ever more marginal land, to sustain on-going population growth. The newly planted areas, however, could often only sustain being cultivated for a few years before becoming unusable and pushing farmers to clear further new lands. As more and more of the countryside was stripped of its traditional, permanent ground-cover, a significant increase in the number of destructive floods began occurring, causing crop loss even in traditional agricultural areas, and leading to repeated periods of deadly famine, in a cycle that continued into the 20th century.

What can be most disturbing about Mann’s accounts of these and other effects of the Homogenocene is the seeming inevitability of events. In the case of the famines described above, societies had simply found a better, more stable food source for their people, and so naturally had taken advantage of it. In so doing, however, they had planted the seeds, literally, for future disasters they could not imagine.

An even more disturbing example of this in Mann’s book, the rapid expansion of plantation slavery in the years after 1493, seems saturated with the sense of unplanned inevitability. He explains how the roots of this brutal regime extended back to before Colón’s first voyage, slavery having existed for many centuries, while large plantations of cash crops had begun to develop in the century or so before his trip. But the European’s discovery of the Americas opened an entire hemisphere to the creation of these plantation-oriented crops, particularly sugar and tobacco. With the dramatic increase in the need for labor, and the rapid spread of malaria and yellow fever from Africa into the New World, came a seemingly exponential rise in the Atlantic slave trade in the decades and centuries after 1493. As with the famines and other negative consequences of introduced New World plants, no one had specifically planned for this development.

Although Mann does not explicitly state this in his book, I find it difficult to avoid coming to the conclusion after reading it that the extractive and exploitative nature of the colonization that developed after 1493 was deeply tied to an inherently Western European view of the world during that era. When the Europeans came to the lands of the Americas, they seem to have primarily viewed it as a kind of bank, from which, by virtue of their having forcibly taken ownership of it, they could extract funds from it however they wished. (I am leaving aside the parallel interest of the church in converting the Indians to Christianity.) Especially in the 16th and 17th centuries, Europeans seem to have traveled to the Americas not to establish a new home, but rather in search of opportunities for making money --- and since it was not their home, in the most personal sense, it was as if they were under no constraints to operate as they might have done, or been legally and culturally forced to, in their home countries.

Aside from the mining of silver, which came primarily from what is modern day Bolivia and was shipped either to China to buy goods or to Europe to fund religious wars, a major focus for Europeans in the first centuries after 1493 was on growing tobacco, a crop discovered in the Americas, and sugarcane, a crop Europeans had only known as a very rare spice before the Crusades. To demonstrate the conclusion I mention above, I’ll pull in what follows from Mann’s detailed account of the spread of sugarcane plantations into the New World.

Mann points out that once sugar from the newly conquered Islamic plantations in the Middle East became more readily available in Europe, it became impossible to keep up with demand, and European sugar producers desperately sought out more regions in which to cultivate this crop that grows in warm, wet climates. According to Mann, growing and processing sugarcane is extremely unpleasant work, and he quotes studies that have shown that “Islamic sugar plantations kept their workers by paying relatively high wages. European-owned plantations initially followed the same strategy … [but] over the course of time Europe’s sugar producers reconsidered,” (373) a decision that would have far-reaching consequences.

Eventually running out of suitable regions for growing sugarcane in the Mediterranean, Europeans began looking farther a field in the early 1400’s, in particular to islands off of the Atlantic coast of Africa. On these islands the sugar producers created what would be recognized today as plantations --- turning entire islands into giant farm estates. By the middle to late 1400’s, sugar prices had fallen as production grew, and so to keep up profits the producers had to further increase the harvest while reducing costs: “With little evident reflection, some colonists made a fateful decision: they bought slaves.” (375) As the plantations spread to islands closer to the equator, the Europeans came into contact with malaria and yellow fever, which led to an extremely high death rate among both Europeans and many of their European and North African slaves … only the West African slaves seemed to have a much higher resistance to those diseases. Thus, those plantation owners who bought West African slaves were at an economic advantage: “The world of plantation slavery was coming, terribly, into existence.” (377)

With the discovery of the Americas, European sugar producers suddenly had a vast new expanse into which to spread their plantations. Of course, malaria and yellow fever traveled with them on the ships that crossed the Atlantic, and when Europeans tried to enslave the local Indians to work on the plantations, they found them extremely susceptible to these and other diseases, and so the plantation owners reached again for the labor force they knew already would more likely survive: West African slaves. The Atlantic slave trade quickly developed into a booming business, which would eventually bring millions of Africans across the Atlantic against their will, as first sugar plantations spread from the Caribbean down into Brazil, and not many years later tobacco plantations sprang up throughout the Americas.

Slavery, which had existed in Europe for centuries, took on an unrecognizable and much more brutal form in the New World, a form that would never have been acceptable in the home countries of most if not all of these plantation owners. In the New World during the first centuries after Colón, whether in the silver mines or on the plantations, life was driven by economic forces with little or no serious thought for any other consideration. Thus was established an early view of the Americas as little more than gigantically larger versions of the early, uninhabited plantation islands along the African coast, that is, as lands that could be monetized in whatever way the colonizing Europeans wished. When independent countries developed in the Americas some centuries later, this terrible legacy of their birth would haunt their every step, and in many ways still does today.

As I mentioned above, Mann himself does not explicitly draw this conclusion in 1493; what he does make clear, however, are the dramatic and transformative effects on societies world-wide that resulted from Colón’s expedition in search of an Atlantic trading route to Asia. In an engaging narrative that both spans the globe and ranges across the centuries since 1492, Mann reviews the latest understandings of the economic, biological and human exchange that has occurred.

Other reviews / information:
Interview with Charles Mann at Discover Magazine.

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