Review: The Time Traveller’s Guide to Restoration Britain, by Ian Mortimer

This is the third Time Traveller’s Guide that Ian Mortimer has written, the previous two being of Medieval and then Elizabethan England. They’re completely self-contained, but I thought it worth mentioning in case anyone reading this preferred to get them in chronological order.

The Time Traveller’s Guide to Restoration Britain is a sort of everyday history, relating the habits of people high and low through the latter half the 17^th century, when the monarchy was restored after the censorious puritanism of Cromwell’s reign. Innovations and advancement are everywhere, as Newton, Purcell, and Wren set to work furthering the boundaries of science, music, and architecture (the latter ‘aided’ by the Great Fire of London in 1666).

It is in this period that superstition really buckles beneath the weight of science, or starts to, at least. Speech becomes freer as newspapers spring up and a short-lived attempt at regulation ends, enabling a free press (which has continued to this day). Literacy rises, transport is improved with flying coaches and the impressively swift postal service. The plague sees its last occurrence on British shores, doctors soar in number, and women begin to break into art, acting, and other fields.

But it also sees terrible fires, the coldest winter ever, political turmoil when James II is deposed, the ongoing battle between puritans and those who preferred a freer society and many attitudes we would consider horrendous today (a love of cockfighting, religious segregation, kidnapping people for enforced servitude on ships/in colonies etc).

Ian Mortimer tells of life from the very richest to the very poorest, what people ate, how they lived, what work they did, and how the country changed so dramatically from the austere reign of Cromwell to the flamboyant Charles II (and his successors). It’s engaging and places you in the boots of the 17^th people he describes.

This did throw up an interesting question. Until quite recently I didn’t give books specific ratings (on a personal level, I dislike them because a small problem for one reader is a deal-breaker for another, but do appreciate that others find such things useful). How to define a five star book? Something nigh on perfect? Something that’s 81% or better?

Regardless, I believe this excellent book, full of interesting snippets of information and insightful commentary, to be a five star book.

Thaddeus

Review: The Norse Myths, by Carolyne Larrington

Being into history and fantasy, the Norse myths seemed a nice blending of the two, so I bought this book.

The author adopts more traditional spellings for Viking gods (Loki is identical, but Thor’s name is spelt with the rune ‘thorn’ and two Rs). It’s more in keeping with the history, but like Greek names spelt with Ks (Hektor, Akhilleus etc) it can look a bit odd.

Like most people, I have only a passing familiarity with Norse myths (I could name maybe four gods before reading this book), and was interested to learn more. The book begins and finishes with the start and end of the world, with the intervening chapters covering the gods, their opponents, and human heroes.

Loki is the most intriguing fellow, because gods are usually good or evil with small nuance, but he’s genuinely tricky to pin down (amongst his odder feats was becoming impregnated by a giant’s horse and giving birth to Sleipnir, Odin’s eight-legged horse).

An interesting perspective was offered on Thor’s giant-killing antics, which is generally shown as being a good thing, but when he and Loki encounter a sleeping giant, he decides it’s hammer time and tries to smash the giant’s skull in, which looks murderous (and impolite) rather than heroic.

In addition to the myths themselves, there’s also quite a lot of artwork (both from the time and more recent versions in paintings etc) and some mentions of recent literary works (most famously, Tolkien’s stuff) that were influenced by Norse myths.

I especially enjoyed the author’s inclusion of commentary on the impact of Christianity and the dating of certain myths (which affects both Christian influence in storytelling and in the way the gods might be painted as inferior to Jesus). The suggestion put by several ancient writers that the gods were in fact excellent real people, whose deeds led to exaggerations and mythologising, is a neat way of wrapping together ancient Norse myths and (then) contemporary Christian thinking, without discarding wholesale the value or interest in said myths.

Downsides are minor, but irksome. For a start, CE. Common Era is a daft revisionist nonsense applied by some to the Christian calendar (BC/AD becomes BCE/CE) for reasons that are beyond me. There’s also a reference to a certain story reflecting, in the author’s view, ‘the patriarchy’. I’m not fond of imposing modern political perspectives on interpretations of ancient stories.

The book was enjoyable, and a good introduction (from my limited knowledge of the area) to Norse myths. I’d give it four out of five.

Thaddeus

St George’s Day book suggestions

I hadn’t planned to write this, but was sufficiently aggravated by hearing some media clowns asking whether the English flag was racist I knocked it up quickly (speaking of which, best wishes to the Duchess of Cambridge, who is currently in labour).

Here are a quartet of biographies that cover from the 9^th century to the 14^th. They’re well worth checking out individually, and each offers great insight into both the individuals upon whom they’re focused as well as the state of England (which varies rather a lot).

Alfred the Great, by Justin Pollard

Depending how you count it, England has had kings for one a half millennia. Over a thousand years ago Alfred became the first, and only, man to be called the Great. Justin Pollard’s excellent biography paints a vivid picture of a king not easily pigeon-holed as either a warrior or a scholar, but who mixed the qualities and strengths of both. Not only that, Pollard manages to convey the strange, almost alien, realm over which Alfred reigns, including abandoned Roman cities and new innovations, such as Alfred’s burh system of defensive settlements. This is the only Anglo-Saxon era history I’ve read, but despite that I never felt lost, so it’s a great book for a first timer.

The Greatest Knight, by Thomas Asbridge

The Greatest Knight is about William Marshal, possibly the most important figure in English history that almost nobody has ever heard of. From childhood as a hostage, abandoned by his father to face probable death (which he only avoided by being so sweet and innocent the king couldn’t bring himself to kill the boy), through to tournaments and war in France, the Holy Land, England and Wales, William served numerous kings, from Henry II to John. Skilful in war, falsely accused of adultery with Young King Henry’s wife, taunted by the vindictive John, William Marshal had a hand in Magna Carta and, quite literally, saved England. A fascinating biography of the 12^th and 13^th century knight.

Edward I: A Great and Terrible King by Marc Morris

Edward I, a man so soft and fuzzy he’s been cited by George RR Martin as the inspiration for Tywin Lannister, grew up in the 13^th century during the reign of his loving but weak father, Henry III. A fearsome warrior, he imposed his will on England, strengthening the kingdom and conquering Wales (the castles he built remaining to this day). From the Holy Land to Scotland he fought, his reign marking a high point of royal power between the weakness of his father, and divisiveness of his son (with whom he had rather strained relations). In his latter days, his vigour was compromised and so too his judgement (his punitive approach to Wales was fair enough as it was they who dicked him about, whereas with Scotland the dickishness came from his own side [though Robert Bruce murdering a rival in a church was hardly gentlemanly conduct either]).

Edward III: The Perfect King, by Ian Mortimer

One of England’s greatest ever kings scarcely made it out of childhood. Kept as a virtual prisoner by the usurper of royal authority (but not title) Roger Mortimer, the teenage Edward was rescued by his friends in a daring infiltration by a castle’s secret passage. He rapidly grew into his new role as true king, executing Mortimer and embarking upon a series of wars to strengthen the kingdom. By keeping the Hundred Years’ War in France he protected the English from its worst effects, the huge victories at Crecy and Poitiers occurring in his reign (Poitiers under the command of the Black Prince, his eldest son). Edward also consulted Parliament more frequently than any predecessor, gaining popular support for his decisions and financial backing for his actions. During his reign England suffered the Black Death, and his own son pre-deceased him (due to a different illness). In all, he reigned for half of the 14^th century.

There you are, a quartet of fantastic historical biographies for those interested in learning more about English history. Happy St George’s Day.

Thaddeus

Three guides to the medieval mindset

Whether reading a fantasy with an emphasis on realism, or simply seeking to understand the way people thought in the past, these three books offer a great guide to political, military, and everyday thinking.

The Prince, by Niccolo Machiavelli

Strictly speaking more Renaissance than medieval, the archetypal politician’s handbook is still relevant to both the modern and medieval worlds. Machiavelli’s work, which includes many historical examples (frequently classical but also more recent), is a masterpiece on human psychology and the realities of power. It reached an infamous status in the past due to its chapters regarding when it’s appropriate for leaders to lie to their people, and why it’s better to be feared than loved.

The Prince offers little in the way of rhetorical flimflam, and offers the unvarnished (and sometimes uncomfortable) truth about why those in power act the way they do. It’s a great book to read in itself, and excellent as a guide for how leaders think and act (in both governance and military spheres), particularly before democracy became quite so popular.

[As an aside, those into audiobooks may wish to check out the edition narrated by Ian Richardson. It’s like having Francis Urquhart give you lessons in political cunning].

By Sword and Fire, by Sean McGlynn

Getting the balance right when it comes to mercy and brutality in medieval warfare can be very difficult, as the way of thinking in those days is so different to modern morality. By Sword and Fire does a great job of putting the rationale in context, and explaining why certain actions that today would be universally condemned (Richard the Lionheart and Saladin executing prisoners in the Holy Land) made sense at the time, without imposing modern norms on the medieval world.

As you might expect, it’s a grim book, so those who are easily upset by such things shouldn’t read it. However, I found it invaluable as a resource to understand how mercy and brutality could be justified (and advantageous for the commander) in a medieval setting.

The Time Traveller’s Guide to Medieval England, by Ian Mortimer

This is an absolutely fantastic read that puts the reader in the shoes of a 14^th century fellow. It’s a sort of everyman’s history, looking at the food people ate, the way they travelled, what they wore, how justice worked, and so on. For everyday details it’s utterly invaluable and packed with interesting snippets of information (one of the best is that monks had a rule preventing them eating meat in the refectory, leading them to invent a secondary dining room called the misericord, in which they did eat meat).

Being roughly situated in the 14^th century, the book includes information about what it’s like when harvests fail, or plague strikes. It is very much about people and the world in which they lived, and is of great use in trying to see things from the perspective of an ordinary sort of fellow.

[Equivalent editions are available by the same author for Elizabethan England, and Restoration Britain, the latter of which I’m currently reading and will review].

These three books collectively offer fantastic insight into the way power politics, military morality, and the everyday world operated in the medieval age. If you’re planning on writing something set in an approximately medieval setting, or simply find the history interesting, I can highly recommend all three.

Thaddeus

Review: The Persian Expedition, by Xenophon

The story of the Ten Thousand, as told in this book (aka the Anabasis), used to be one of the most commonly taught in British schools, and it’s not hard to see why. Ten thousand Greek mercenaries are hired by Cyrus, younger brother of the Persian king Artaxerxes, to defeat his brother and put Cyrus on the throne. Although the battle of Cunaxa is won by Cyrus’ forces, Cyrus himself ends up dead.

The Greeks are a thousand miles from home and surrounded by enemy troops who vastly outnumber them. Going back the way they came is impossible because the supply situation, even with Cyrus helping, was dangerously difficult.

The Persian Expedition, written by Xenophon (one of the army’s leaders), is the story of how the army got back to safety. It’s thought (perhaps along with no longer extant versions by other writers) to have been the geographical and moral inspiration behind dreams of invading Persia, which eventually bloomed under Philip II and Alexander of Macedon.

As well as fending off some Persian attacks, the army grapples with unfamiliar territories and peoples, keeping itself fed and watered, and, perhaps most dangerously, internal political wrangling and the threat of disintegrating obedience once safety seems to have been reached.

It is not in the top rank of classical history. Xenophon lacks the rigour of a Polybius or Thucydides (although he also tends to avoid eight clause sentences...), and has a bias similar to Josephus, but not balanced by the same level of detail and insight. This may be because Xenophon wrote of the journey decades after it happened.

However, it is an interesting book. The failure of Persia (to be fair, they didn’t try as hard as they could’ve) to prevent the Greeks from leaving led those across the Aegean to believe that moral decay had made the orientals weak as well as decadent. The army hung together very well so long as it felt in danger, but as safety seemed at hand, things started to splinter and there was seemingly little gratitude to those who had helped lead the men out of the fire.

The innkeeper considers this to be three and a half out of five pints.

Thaddeus