Tony Judt, Ill Fares the Land

It's the second book by Tony Judt I've read and for the second time, I'm disappointed.  I need to either grow into his writing, or not try it again.

Ill fares the land - what a magnificent title!  We all know that the land, understood here as our global village, does not fare well.  I bet each of us could offer a recipe for improvement, and some of them would even be worth hearing.  Frankly, I expected an intelligent rant.  I got a history of political doctrines.  Ouch.

Funny thing, I dismissed the whole book as boring and useless and yet I noted down a few quotes which I judged too wise to forget.  I agree with many of Judt's sentiments.  I wholeheartedly agree that we should bring ethical standards back from the attic and give them a thorough dusting.  I'm all for the idea that we should re-think our definition of 'worth' and stop translating 'value' to 'money'.  I agree with so much of this book on ordinary, human level!

Unfortunately, sentiments are overshadowed by political theory.

I guess there are people who enjoy discussing -isms.  People who believe that an existing system can be an answer to the land's illness.  In Judt's case, it is social democracy that is supposed to cure the malaise.  It could be worse, I guess.  Still, when I read a book, I don't like to feel as if I were attending a pre-election publicity meeting.  Whoever the candidates are.

How about this - let's wave a magic wand and remove predatory instinct from the soul of homo sapiens.  Can't be done?  Then the land will keep on faring ill, whatever -ism you apply as a medicine.

Douglas Palmer, Earth in 100 Groundbreaking Discoveries

Our planet is a fascinating subject.  This explains why everybody loves National Geographic.  Earth in 100 Groundbreaking Discoveries often made me think of NG - although published by a different crowd, it is very similar in tone and focus.  No ads, though!

The book presents a mixture of disciplines.  There's some geology, some paleontology, enough astrophysics to explain our planet in cosmic perspective, some anthropology...  Well, let's just say it contains many different -ogies, all united in the purpose of teaching a reader more about the Earth.

All the scientific stuff is presented in approachable manner, suitable for novices.  The book includes some fancy words, but they are all conveniently explained, so you don't need a Ph.D. to enjoy it.  I have to confess I caught myself drifting off from time to time, but my mind is strictly non-technical and does not process experimental science easily.  The book is not to blame.

More praise:  Earth in 100 Groundbreaking Discoveries is a visual masterpiece.  Stunning pictures printed on good quality paper, it is almost an album.

I'm not sure how groundbreaking the discoveries really are, but they surely are up to date.  In most cases, Palmer quotes research from 2010/2011, which is very fresh in this type of publication.

Overall - a tasty serving of science for amateurs.  Worth reading, worth recommending.

Tony Connelly, Don't Mention the Wars

Stereotyping is just as entertaining as it is dangerous.  We all do it, consciously or not.  Some people use it for furthering ugly agendas - politicians would be the most obvious example.  Others, those with love for political correctness, claim it should be forbidden altogether - as if that was at all possible!

I bet that by now I managed to conjure a few unpleasant associations in your head, but stereotyping is not all ugly and Don't Mention the Wars is a proof.

The book is subtitled A journey through European stereotypes and this is exactly what it is.  Not all the countries got invited, only Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Hungary, Czech Republic and Poland.  Each chapter consists of a historical sketch and a handful of trivia organised around a central leitmotif.

Let me be frank - Don't Mention the Wars is one, big, colourful yarn.  It's extremely readable, engaging and as entertaining as a book can be.  I wasn't bored for a second and greedily turned page after page, devouring the book in a few hours.  A fantastic read!  Only...  don't believe anything it says.

I kind of suspected exaggeration here and there, but only when I got to the final chapter on Poland, my home country, I could really judge the information with any certainty.  Factual or spelling mistakes happen here and there, but I can forgive that easily.  What did piss me off was the skewed emphasis, a tiny fragment taken from the nation's reality and blown out of any proportions.  Example?  You would never say this after reading Don't Mention the Wars, but Poland is full of people who don't give a damn about the Pope.  I bet other nationalities could give their own examples here.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not condemning the book.  I stand by my claim that it is a charming page turner, light-hearted and entertaining.  Just please remember - this is a book about stereotypes, not about reality.

Niall Ferguson, The War of the World

Do you read labels?  I do.  Always.  It's a little quirk of mine, but one that repeatedly proves very useful.  Getting familiar with ingredients list of your food or medicine can prove truly enlightening.

Perhaps it is only to be expected that I also study book covers, in detail.  I'm particularly fascinated by one-line excerpts from magazine reviews.  I truly admire the ingenuity of their creators.  The simple, if cloaked, request (buy the book) inevitably turns into a wordy eulogy.  How long can you spin a short message?  I would run out of creativity - and patience! - after three raves or so.  Magazine writers seem to be able to go on forever.

Niall Ferguson is a real darling of the critics, if the cover of The War of the World is to be believed.  'One of the world's 100 most influential people'.  'Niall Ferguson has transformed the intellectual landscape'.  'The most brilliant British historian of his generation...'.  Proud claims, wouldn't you agree?

One word: oversell.

The War of the World is pleasant enough.  It's engaging, easy to follow, accessible.  Yet...  I can't see how it is exceptional, much less how it transforms the intellectual landscape.

Simply put, the book is just another historical narrative covering the World Wars.  I know that Ferguson tried to avoid exactly such judgement, he admits this much in the preface.  As I understand, he tried to write an analysis of the twentieth century warfare, focusing on search for some general theory, applicable to all or most of armed conflicts.  I acknowledge his effort and applaud the idea, but I also believe he completely failed to achieve his goal in this particular volume.  With pretty much whole book devoted to the first and second global conflict and only a few chapters to the second half of the century, proportions are simply not right.

Unfortunately, I couldn't detect anything revolutionary or 'landscape transforming'.  The narrative is a standard 'World Politics according to a Western historian' story.  At one moment I actually wished historians were forbidden to write chronicles of their own country.  Moral relativism inevitably surfaces and after a while, irks.  But OK, Ferguson is not TOO guilty of this particular charge.

I also found some of his information not trustworthy.  I wouldn't stake my reputation on that - after all, he's the historian, not me - but at the first sight some of his facts beg for further questioning.
So does spelling of Polish names (I was born in Poland, I know).

Truth to be told, such obvious mishaps don't surface too often and I admit I'm being picky.  The War of the World is definitely readable.  Not life-changing, but very, very decent.

Dervla Murphy, The Island that Dared

By now, I should be quite tired of Dervla Murphy, shouldn't I?  The Island that Dared is the fourth book by her pen I've read now, within really short period of time and, aside from destination, the books do not really differ much one from another.  They are all opinionated, colourful, controversial and absolutely delicious.  I'm not tired, I want more.

What 'island' are we talking about in this case, and why is it so 'daring'?  While it is easy enough to answer the first question (Cuba), the answer to the second is rather complex and you have to read the book to find it out (or possess some political knowledge gathered elsewhere).  To whet your appetite, I'll tell you only that The Island that Dared is very political, but definitely not politically correct.  Go, Dervla!

Cuba according to Ms Murphy might surprise you, especially if you live on the 'Western' side of the globe.  It definitely surprised me, but only in an inspiring and invigorating way.  Now I want to visit Cuba one day, no, 'want' is too mild a word, I'm aching to visit it.  The ache will surely wear off soon, with time blurring the effects of passionate prose, but the dream might well remain.

If I ever were reckless enough to form a political opinion based on one book, I would surely became a Fidel-supporter after The Island that Dared.  The Cuban (ex?) dictator, so demonised in the Western media, emerges from the book's pages almost unrecognisable.  Cuba's scientific and social achievements are deservedly praised, but what strikes me most is (if Dervla Murphy is to be believed) Cuba's attitude to money.  It seems that the world can still boast of places where cash is not the prime mover in individuals' life.  Hard to believe, but if true - I want to go to Cuba!  

A fair warning:  if you are a big-time fan of corporate lifestyle, you might not enjoy this book (unless you can shrug off huge amount of criticism).  Ultra-nationalistic Americans might also feel offended.

I feel tempted to say something along the lines of 'if you have any sense, you will love it', but that would be a nasty piece of mental bullying.

I loved it.  You make your own mind.

Colin Thubron, The Lost Heart of Asia

I have finally finished another one of Colin Thubron's books and I am so relieved!  Can't say why, but I find his books extremely tiring.  Must be my brain having problems processing all those lofty words.  

Do I sound a bit sour here?  If I do, let me immediately admit it might be good old jealousy.  Thubron is a vocabulary master.  I don't think I can even hope to ever match his skill with words.  I'm duly impressed, but I also can't help wondering - are all those majestic phrases really necessary?  I guess I belong to the 'if something can be said in simple words, don't complicate it' school of thought.  The fuzziness of my head after three hundred pages of linguistic challenge might have something to do with it.  

The Lost Heart of Asia describes countries rarely chosen as travel destinations:  Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan.  Thubron pretty much sprints through each, visiting main cities and meeting local people.  As the book was published in 1994, it inevitably deals mainly with the aftermath of the fall of the Soviet state.  Seen through this lens, all the 'stans' appear spookily alike although I'm sure much has changed since.  

Even though economic realities described in The Lost Heart of Asia are rather grim, its pages sparkle with legendary names.  Thubron is generous with his historical knowledge, so a reader can glimpse Central Asia as it was in its ages of glory - fierce, powerful, awe-inspiring.  

I was a bit unsettled by the number of necropolises mentioned in the book.  Hardly a page goes by without a grave, a tomb or at least a mausoleum being mentioned.  While I realise that this land has been plagued by violent history, I'm sure there's more to it than cemeteries.  Still, I could imagine a worse introduction to the heart of Asia, lost or not.  

After two samples of Thubron's writing in a row I'm under impression that he is a great writer but only an average traveller.  He rarely gets into trouble.  He does not express controversial opinions.  One feels he only skims the surface, instead of digging deep into the soul of the land he travels.  Still, he is a damn good wordsmith.  That's good enough for me.  

Colin Thubron, To a Mountain in Tibet

I searched and searched and I couldn't find a bad word written about Colin Thubron anywhere.  One of the best travel writers in the world, says Jan Morris.  One of the top fifty post-war British writers according to The Times.  Whoever mentions him, does so with praise and awe.  

Why, then, did his To a Mountain in Tibet leave me totally uninspired?

I AM disappointed, you know.  All the applause had seriously whetted my appetite.

To a Mountain in Tibet tells a story of something akin to a secular pilgrimage.  Mount Kailas is sacred to multitudes and while Thubron does not appear particularly dogmatic, he is on a personal spiritual journey.  Snapshots from family life are mixed with tidbits from Tibetan folklore and politics.  He meets with lamas and visits poor village dwellings, deals with Chinese officials and explores local myths.

It's not that the book is bad, or stupid, or vulgar or anything like that.  Thubron's grasp of English is masterly.  He takes words like 'rumbustious', 'abstruse', 'circumambulate', 'equidistant', 'coeval' and weaves them into a smooth narrative.  His descriptions are poetic, his research thorough.  Still, how much can you squeeze out of a short trip to the mountains?

I'm convinced that To a Mountain in Tibet is not the best book to start an acquaintance with Colin Thubron.  It's fairly decent as far as travel writing titles go, but not exceptional, not life-changing, not mind-blowing.  I'm going to give him another chance (review coming soon), but so far I'm not willing to join the crown of his admirers.