qatsi: (capaldi)
Book Review: The Silk Roads - A New History of the World, by Peter Frankopan
The subtitle here is important. I was anticipating a history of the trade routes between Europe and China, through central Asia, and whilst there is some of that in here, the title is almost misleading. But, once I had got over that, it was nevertheless an interesting read. Frankopan (who turns out to be the same age as me) begins by pointing out that the world map he had as a child was largely ignored in the history he was taught at school. I dropped history before GCSE, but I recognise the sentiment, and whilst I think it's reasonable to begin locally, there ought to be wider perspectives.

There are some interesting ideas and the reader is certainly invited to think for themselves in drawing together various threads in the book. In the west, Persians, Greeks and Romans come and go. In the east, the Mongols are the dominant raiders. Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians and Muslims form alliances of convenience and then fall out, repeatedly. Europe - certainly north and west of Rome - is an irrelevance (I remember Norman Davies' history of the continent implied much the same in its introduction), although it is also a source of slaves.

Then Asia gave Europe the Black Death, and in return Europe gave the world the Renaissance, and discovered America. This gives us a few hundred years where the focus of the book pivots in a way I hadn't really expected. The sprawl of the British empire - in both hard and soft power form, often working with local client regimes of variable probity - has taken over more or less everywhere of importance by the end of the nineteenth century.

Then oil was discovered in Iran, in huge quantities. The local regime (see above) had negotiated a deal (you can guess how balanced the deal was) with the British for exploitation of oil resources, a pattern that was mirrored across the region in coming decades, through two World Wars where oil was of massive strategic importance. Post-war, Britain was more or less bankrupt and couldn't sustain the gratuities required to keep those increasingly unstable regimes in power. But then the Americans came along, and fearful of the potential influence of the USSR, made the whole situation even worse. Und so weiter. Spoilers. Somewhere along the way, there was a cheap and lazy (and incorrect) jibe about the EU accounts (I note today that the UK's National Audit Office declines to sign off our own accounts), which was irritating and in any case barely material to the wider story. The book covers the Islamic revolution in Iran through to the demise of Bin Laden in some detail, and it did leave me feeling that the last 70 or so years have been a complete car crash in the region, but also with little idea of how that could realistically have been avoided. Certainly, food for thought.

Baltic

Aug. 14th, 2024 09:06 pm
qatsi: (baker)
Book Review: The Baltic Story - A Thousand Year History of its Lands, Seas and Peoples, by Caroline Boggis-Rolfe
Unusually, I stumbled upon this randomly in Waterstone's and decided to indulge my curiosity. We've visited a few places on or around the Baltic over the years, and I hoped this might stitch some things together. I think it succeeded in that.

In the introduction, Boggis-Rolfe announces that the flow will be more or less chronological, and that each chapter will be self-contained, so there may be some repetition when reading from end to end. This was true, but it wasn't irritating, as it had been called out earlier. She begins with a brief overview of the Hanseatic League, but most of the book focuses on the various royal households, their shifting allegiances, skirmishes and borders over the years. Initially, Poland and Denmark were the major powers in the region, later usurped by Sweden and Russia, and later still by Prussia. England would often come to the aid of one or other country - it felt like never the same one twice, perfidious Albion indeed - and Napoleon stormed through most of the region, only then to be beaten all the way back. (In a bizarre sub-plot, one of his generals began the Bernadotte ruling dynasty of Sweden, arguably more successful in the long term than Bonaparte himself.) Norway and Finland changed hands between their more belligerent neighbours, and for a time Poland vanished off the map altogether. Among the lesser-known conflicts, I am now better acquainted with the Lingonberry War; and whilst I claim no expertise, I gained a bit of background on the Schleswig-Holstein question.
qatsi: (penguin)
Book Review: British Rail - A New History, by Christian Wolmar
Wolmar is keen to discredit various myths about the nationalised railway era, but this history is not uncritical. British Railways was formed in 1948, part of the 1945 Labour manifesto, and perhaps for reasons of principle as much as of necessity. The "Big Four" companies had been formed after World War I, but of these only GWR had made a consistent operating profit in the inter-war years; during World War II, as with so much else, the train companies operated under government direction.

There is a catalogue of early missed opportunities. Initial reviews failed to see that the future lay in diesel and electric traction; although the UK had a reliable supply of coal and didn't have the financial power to import diesel in the initial post-war period, there was a lack of foresight in sticking implacably with new steam locomotives. When diesel did come, it was too late: the various improvements in efficiency and experience could have saved some branch lines from closure, but the popular mood had tilted in favour of the motor car, and the government pursued investment in motorways over railways. Managers in the rail industry frequently didn't help themselves; regional structures and identities were retained in the nationalised network, which led to local design and procurement of a panoply of diesel locomotives, many of which didn't survive long in the real world. There was often indifference at best to co-operation between regions.

Wolmar does his best to be fair to Beeching, noting that he introduced a wide range of beneficial changes as well as the notorious report that ensured his reputation. The government, and in particular the Treasury, were reluctant to introduce electrification, but the West Coast Main Line eventually proved a success in the late 1960s. He notes that Barbara Castle, the first woman to hold the Transport ministry, was a "train" person rather than a "car" person, and highlights the establishment of Public Transport Executives in major metropolitan centres as a significant improvement, encouraging integrated thinking across bus and rail services. Rail closures were immediately unpopular, even on services that had been poorly used. He credits Michael Portillo as a junior minister in the 1980s with a part in seeing off the closure of the Settle to Carlisle line, noting with irony that at the time he could not possibly have foreseen his future career as a presenter of popular TV programmes about the railways.

Wolmar sees things as improving during the 1970s and 1980s. In the engineering department, the APT programme wasn't successful; with hindsight Wolmar attributes this to insufficient investment, but finances were tight across the board and the less innovative diesel HST exceeded expectations. In the longer term, the experiences of the APT were exported, and we now have the Italian-made Pendolino tilting trains in their place. If the government had been in it for the long term, that would have been our achievement. (On the downside, Wolmar views perhaps too positively the Pacer trains of the same period, though he does note they were only ever intended as a short-term solution.) In the management of the railways, Wolmar also notes improvements, particularly during and after Sir Peter Parker's tenure. Of course, classic railway advertising had been around for decades, but there was a reawakening of what was needed to compete in the more modern world. Eventual reorganisations led to better co-ordination, and recognition of which services would be genuinely profitable and which would always require subsidy.

The Conservative manifesto of 1992 committed to privatising the railways, without detail, and as a result of the unexpected victory, the process was rushed. This, more or less, is where Wolmar ends his story (a previous work deals with the consequences of privatisation). The agenda in this book is clearly to show that we lost a generally high-performing and cost-effective railway, but I wonder whether there's a sense in which we are always looking back fondly on the past: steam trains offer perennial nostalgia even for those who never experienced them as regular services, but they're dirty, smelly, and prone to all sorts of mishap; diesel and electric locomotives don't seem to have the same romance.

It seems to me that, whilst we can and should have a debate about public versus private ownership, the bigger question is that of the British disease of expecting a Rolls-Royce service for the price of a Mini, in any sphere. Not taking a long-term view has frequently inhibited development of the railways, but that applies both to private shareholders and the Treasury. Until we consider and treat railways, or public transport in general, as a public "good", we won't realise the full benefits of the system.
qatsi: (urquhart)
Book Review: Memoirs, by Mikhail Gorbachev
Clearing the backlog of reviews is this weightier tome, a re-read from the 1990s prompted in part by hearing of the death of Gorbachev last year while on holiday. The book is divided into four parts: Upbringing, early career through to the death of Chernenko; becoming General Secretary and changing domestic policy in the Soviet Union; International affairs; and 1991, "the Stormy Year" as he calls it.

In contrast to Gromyko's memoirs, this is a book I chose to keep. While adhering to the ideals of socialism, Gorbachev recognised many dysfunctions in the party and cadre system, and the deepening economic crisis that was brewing. His assessment of Brezhnev is sympathetic to some extent, regarding him to some degree as an initially capable leader who couldn't later retire as the gerontocracy surrounded him. His insights into Andropov - of whom he was perhaps a protege - make for interesting counterfactual speculations on the potential for earlier reforms. Chernenko, on the other hand, was a step backward, to an already elderly and ill leader. There is a sense that Gorbachev emerged because he was the next generation as much as from any enthusiasm in the Politburo.

The sections on government can be quite dry reading; it is the political equivalent of wading through technical debt, reforming a system so broken that it's impossible to make progress at any substantial rate. The reforms of glasnost and perestroika were notionally popular, but resisted by many internally within the party, and like the civil service in Yes Minister many plans and projects were stalled. On international relations, it's clear that Gorbachev felt he could do deals with the west, but was frustrated by the slow movement of the United States, partly by Reagan's "Star Wars" dreams and partly by political resistance, the inability to consider or accept a reforming Soviet Union.

The final section, on the crises of 1991 that led to the dissolution of the Soviet Union, is the saddest. In part this is because Gorbachev fought to the end to maintain a political union state, even when it was clear the resistance to this had become overwhelming for various economic, political and nationalist motivations. From this reading, Gorbachev accepted the Baltic states would leave the USSR, more or less acknowledging the illegitimacy of their annexation, but he hoped the remaining republics would stay. Ukraine does not get much mention, beyond noting that Gorbachev did not think much of the republic's leadership at the time, and the Crimea as a popular holiday destination. He does note the position of ethnic Russians in many of the other republics, implicitly holding this as one reason to maintain a union. The extracts from Raisa's diary of the days of the coup in August 1991 are particularly moving. Gorbachev found he had unleashed an unpredictable populist by appointing Yeltsin; and although some of the views could be bitterness at events in the early 1990s, he foresaw risks, if the Soviet Union and later Russia was not appropriately supported by the west, of future chaos and an authoritarian regime.

Up Pompeii

May. 1st, 2023 11:14 am
qatsi: (lurcio)
Book Review: Pompeii - An Archaeological Guide, by Paul Wilkinson
We had this before our holiday last year, but I didn't feel it made sense to dive into it before we had visited. I'm still broadly of that opinion, although reading it has been useful in identifying the locations of a few of my photos. Like all major visitor attractions, the site is a mixture of strongly prescribed and free-to-roam - it was easy to find peace and quiet within a minute or two of the main streets and areas. Some of the houses described in the guide were closed or somehow unavailable, but I think we did visit most of them. Wilkinson gives over not quite half the book to a survey of the city's history prior to AD79, a typical day in Roman Pompeii, the eruption itself, and an overview of the rediscovery. The remainder suggests a route, which we followed at least in part, and picks out several buildings of interest, describing structures, decoration, and occasionally referencing found artefacts, most of which now reside in museums in Naples. It's helpful in explaining some of the naming of buildings, which sometimes have nothing to do with their Roman owners. There is an occasional slip-up over which Pliny wrote Natural History, and I am left a little confused about "re-discovery" when apparently some buildings remained above the level of the volcanic flows and were plundered shortly afterwards. But on the whole this is useful reading.
qatsi: (meades)
Book Review: Travels with George - In Search of Washington and his Legacy, by Nathaniel Philbrick
Apparently it's a cliché, and a 1940s film comedy, to say that "George Washington slept here". Of course insurgent leaders move around, exposure of their whereabouts being a constant threat. But Washington is different in that he also took a tour of the 13 states in 1789 on becoming the first President of the United States, and this book is Philbrick's reconstruction of that tour (broken into several distinct stages).

The writing style is leisurely and homely; Philbrick is accompanied by his wife and their dog, which does not always behave impeccably. The journeys up and down the eastern seaboard attempt to follow traditional roads rather than modern highways, and there are frequent stop-offs in places documented as having been visited by Washington. A bit of the writing is on contemporary or recent history of these places; more often it focuses on how Washington was received and reported at the time, with an overall story arc of the challenges he faced in running his first administration, with dispute and factionalism over the balance of power between the federal government and the states.

I noticed a few of the more lukewarm comments on Goodreads felt that Philbrick wrote too much about Washington's relationship to slavery. When writing about a man who was a leader of his country, who owned slaves, at a time when slavery was controversial, it does not seem unreasonable to bring this subject into the discussion. It seems it would be best to describe Washington's view as "evolving" and Philbrick finds a nuanced viewpoint, with Washington trying to keep all states on board in a fractious emergent country. Judgement by today's mores (on this and other subjects) would leave all national Pantheons empty. There were different values at the time; but Washington could have made decisions and acted differently. I don't think this disqualifies him from being a national hero, but it's a clear demonstration that heroes are imperfect.
qatsi: (capaldi)
Book Review: Empires of Light - Edison, Tesla, Westinghouse, and the race to electrify the world, by Jill Jonnes
This had been on the wish list for a while and it was a welcome Christmas present. Jonnes gives some background on electricity, from classical times through Franklin, Galvani, Volta and Faraday, before picking up the main story in late nineteenth century America. Edison was first to challenge gas lighting, with his high-resistance, low voltage, direct current. But it had problems and technical limitations. Tesla left Serbia and Europe for America, working for Edison for a while but unable to persuade him of the benefits of alternating current. Westinghouse, an inventor and general industrialist, saw the potential (pun not intended) and pushed with Tesla for a time the alternating current - the great advantage being the ability to send it over long distance with relatively low losses, which were prohibitive with direct current.

Edison claimed AC wasn't safe. And in some cases it wasn't, where the wiring was poorly maintained or protected. Edison was a great enthusiast for alternating current for one case only - the electric chair. Jonnes describes this gruesome episode in some detail. But one a more positive note, the battle was slowly won by AC for its lower costs and demonstrable reliability. Eventually all three men succumbed to capitalism one way or another; Edison in particular seems to have stormed off to engage in other research. Westinghouse bankrupted his electrical company but carried on in other areas. Tesla, forever the dreamer, built dramatic machines for wireless transmission and reception of energy, only to find that Marconi had built the radio already. Although there are one or two moments of repetition, Jonnes tells the story with the right balance of science and entertainment. A good start to reading in 2023.

Scorchio

Sep. 11th, 2022 06:52 pm
qatsi: (capaldi)
In an attempt to return to normality, we looked at a summer holiday this year. As usual, there were arguments about the Proms (partially voided by later events, obviously) and the likely weather. As usual, a compromise was reached.

Tues 30th: The advice from Heathrow is still to arrive 3 hours before your flight, so we have brought the parking booking forward by half an hour to even more ridiculous o'clock. On the bus from the car park, I discover my EHIC has expired (I confused the digits and thought it was valid until 2023). In the event, Terminal 2 is not particularly busy at 6am and we drift through security uneventfully, although more devices have been installed and I have to stand in odd postures to satisfy whatever scanning technology is now employed. Our flight is via Zurich, where - for the first time ever - my passport is stamped. We make the connection without incident, as both legs of the journey seem to have been delayed by a similar amount. We arrive at Naples and catch the bus into the city centre, then the Circumvesuviana train out to Ercolano, our base for the duration. Later in the afternoon, a trip to Oplontis proves fruitless, as it is currently closed on Tuesdays. It is far too hot.

Wed 31st: We decide to begin at the top of the bucket list, with a trip to Pompeii (which, in Italian, apparently has only a single i). It is impressive. There is nothing like it in scale in Britain, and even Rome does not feel that it compares, as ancient remains are interspersed with contemporary structures, so this really is a unique experience. We are uncertain about the single on-site cafe, but fortunately it proves to cater decent snack food at decent prices. The number of tour parties climbs during the day, probably exceeding the original population of the city, but in fact it's easy to find quiet spots by veering only slightly away from the main roads. As the day progresses, perhaps fatigue sets in - one house after another, all blurring into one - although the written guide suggests there are four distinct phases of construction. Randomly, late in the afternoon, we stumble upon a structure marked DOMVS L. CAECILI IVCVNDVI - the Caecilius of the Cambridge Latin Course and Doctor Who fame. As visitor attractions are open late into the evening and it is on our way home, we re-try Oplontis and check out the Villa Poppea, successfully this time.

Pompeii Theatre


Pompeii - Theatre


Home of Lucius Caecilius Iucundus


Pompeii - Home of Lucius Caecilius Iucundus


House of the Boar


Pompeii - House of the Boar


Pompeii Forum and Vesuvius


Pompeii - Forum and Vesuvius


Oplontis - Villa Poppea


Oplontis - Peacock at the Villa Poppea



Thurs 1st: I observe I am getting bitten by mosquitoes, as before in Italy (particularly Florence). Rain is forecast, so we take the opportunity to visit the Archaeological museum in Naples. As well as Roman remains, there is an extensive Egyptian section in the basement, which proves to be more informatively labelled than is often the case, or perhaps I am just in the mood to pay more attention. By mid-afternoon we make our way to the Catacombe di San Gaudioso. This is the only tourist attraction where we are told to wear FFP2 masks (though we have been doing so anyway when indoors; we have heard enough stories of people catching covid while on holiday). It's a more gruesome tour than the Catacombs in Rome, being largely medieval.

Fri 2nd: The site at Herculaneum is a stone's throw from our hotel. The excavated site is much smaller than at Pompeii (as is believed to be the settlement as a whole), but it seems better preserved, with many buildings of two stories, although they are perhaps less ornate. The on-site museum contains some interesting artefacts, including a fragment of carbonised rope; more carbonised wood seems visible in some of the buildings. In the afternoon we head in to Naples, visiting various places including Pio Monte della Misericordia and the striking Maiolica church at Santa Chiara. We encounter a band of musicians playing what I instantly recognise as pizzica from a late-night Prom in 2019, though consulting the Internet it turns out that in Campania the style is known as tammurriata - all variants of tarantella.

Herculaneum House of Neptune


Herculaneum - House of Neptune


Herculaneum Thermopolium


Herculaneum - Thermopolium



Sat 3rd: It's time to visit the Royal Palace in Naples, which is a relatively modest affair; afterward, we catch the noon tour of the underground Galleria Borbonica, featuring tunnels intended to safeguard the monarchy in the event of insurrection, but later used as shelter in World War 2, and later again as storage for vehicles impounded by police, and fly-tipping by low-level organised crime groups. In the afternoon we take the funicular to the monastery of San Martino and the neighbouring castle of Sant Elmo.

San Martino Camera Obscura Sundial


Certosa di San Martino - Camera Obscura Sundial



Sun 4th: Another rainy day, at least initially, so we take the metro and the bus to the art gallery at Capodimonte. To be honest, this is a bit of a disappointment: the floors that are open are mostly consumed by one after another Madonna con Bambino, and the 18th/19th century floor is closed. As the weather has cleared, in the afternoon we take a trip out to Pozzuoli, which has a remarkable amphitheatre. Sadly there is no access to the ground level, but the underground, where gladiators, prisoners and animals were stored and prepared, is very well preserved. Due to the rain earlier in the day, the Temple of Serapis appears like an island in a lake. Despite applying insect repellent, the bites are now looking quite dramatic, and I feel the need to check symptoms of malaria and sepsis, just in case, but I am reassuringly free of them.

Pozzuoli Amphitheatre


Pozzuoli - Amphitheatre



Mon 5th: It is well known that any English word can, if necessary, be turned into Italian by adding the suffix -o or -io, and it feels like we are playing Crescento di Morningtonio as the Circumvesuviana train takes an unexpected turn off before Naples. We decide to get out at an interchange station, only to discover that the interchange is closed. We walk in the wrong direction to the next stop, where it turns out the contactless card access is not working. Eventually we do get in to Naples, but the Trenitalia ticket machines are refusing to take card payments. We abandon them and take the old-fashioned option of going into the ticket office, where after a wait we accomplish our objective of getting tickets to Caserta. Earlier research revealed that there is a dearth of mid-morning trains, but once we have our tickets things proceed largely according to plan, so it's lunch by the time we arrive. The Bourbon out-of-town palace is on a much grander scale than their city-centre pad, and it's frequently plain that it could be an inspiration for 20th-century fascist architecture. The grounds are enormous, and we follow the rill - though it's really too big for such a name - through various levels. At the top there's an "English" garden - it's not exactly clear why it has this name, beyond the presence of one or two follies in the style of fake ruins, as though there weren't enough of the real thing in this area.

Caserta


Caserta



Tues 6th: We are a bit smarter with the transport and go directly to the ticket office for a more complicated journey to Paestum. This turns out to be impressive again - three massive Greek temples in a settlement that pre-dates the Roman period. Amusingly, it turns out that the Temple of Hera is purely hypothetical - there is no real evidence for the choice of deity. The site is relatively quiet but the heat is intense.

Paestum


Paestum



Wed 7th: Our final day begins somewhat frustratingly, as many places in Naples turn out to be closed or to require pre-booking. By lunch time we are heading to the airport, where our flight stubbornly declines to have a check-in desk (we have been unable to check-in online, but the booking did say "airport check-in" so this is not surprising). Eventually things start moving, but it has made our connection in Amsterdam, rather tight. The captain announces that the landing gear of the plane struck a bird on arrival, and that the delay is due to safety checks: fair enough. We make our connection in Schiphol, but on arrival in Heathrow, it transpires that our luggage didn't. We complete the requisite forms and hope for the best. A previous experience in 2017, as well as third-party anecdotal evidence from many years ago, makes me hopeful, but this is 2022 and Schiphol is experiencing problems just as much as Heathrow, it seems.

To be honest, food and drink were unremarkable, though we discovered birra rossa. Public transport was good, provided you researched it in advance - some lines (but not all) take contactless payments like TfL; the last train back from Naples to Ercolano was at 21:30 so we had to be aware when eating in Naples in the evening.

Thurs 8th - Fri 9th: Online tracking of our luggage is painfully slow, although it indicates it has been identified and forwarded to the UK.

Sat 10th: At last, our luggage arrives, in a changed world.
qatsi: (penguin)
Book Review: Howards End, by E M Forster
It is many years since I saw the film, long enough to have forgotten most of the story. What I do remember is the concert playing Beethoven's Fifth at the Queen's Hall. The Aurora Orchestra's recent Proms concert nudged me to take this book from the to-read list.

It's like Jane Austen: it's about two unmarried sisters, the things they have in common and the characteristics in which they diverge.

It's like Dickens: there's a lot of social commentary. Those who are at the top can do mostly as they please, but not without limit. The thing that worries them most is their reputation, on which their social position depends. Those who are already low are dragged lower, in this case by interference from well-meaning and better-off types. There is to be no levelling-up.

It's about London, and England, and the changes in the first years of the twentieth century. The Schlegels' house in Wickham Place is to be demolished to make way for blocks of flats. Howards End is a decaying house in the country, its owners apparently indifferent to its fate but unwilling to restore or part with it.

It is rather more biting than Austen. The Schlegels like to see themselves as independent and progressive women. The Wilcoxes are, if not nouveau riche, evidently self-made and pragmatic businesspeople, and are unconcerned who suffers as a result of their actions.

It is not that the plot is complicated: rather, it is that threads of events unwind in unexpected ways, and with coincidences and consequences.
qatsi: (meades)
Book Review: Europe Central, by William T Vollmann
This had been on my to-read list for a few years, and I acquired a second-hand copy earlier this year, before the Russian invasion of Ukraine, which gives the book something of a different perspective. I had reached page 80-something when a bookmark fell out, making me wonder whether this was as far as the previous owner had got in reading it, as the spine was pristine.

I have to admit that I wouldn't be surprised if there were a few "did not finish" out there. It's difficult to say what I expected from this novel, but it wasn't what I found. I think I was expecting a single storyline, but that's only true at the highest level, the impersonal and even mechanistic storyline of conflict in Europe through most of the twentieth century. It's perhaps easier to conceive of this work as a series of short stories around that history. But even then, the stories are very uneven in length, and the occasional touch-points between them feel contrived rather than falling into place as coincidences. One needs enough background knowledge to even begin to get something out of this book: some familiarity with Kollwitz, Paulus, and Shostakovich is necessary to understand what's going on; other personages appear but there's sufficient material in the book to fill in any back-story. Of course, the obvious and overarching bleakness, the moral equivocations of people in no-win situations, do not make for happy or light reading, particularly in our current time.

Nostalgia

Jun. 20th, 2022 08:23 pm
qatsi: (wally)
Book Review: Electronic Dreams - How 1980s Britain Learned to Love the Computer, by Tom Lean
A friend recently commented that it's interesting to read about history you actually experienced, and it's certainly the case for this book. In fact, Lean starts rather before my time, in 1948, with the Manchester Baby, with a summary of developments through to the introduction of the microprocessor in the early 1970s. (For bonus points, Lean goes into Dominic Sandbrook feel-good history mode, in a diversion into Doctor Who with a mention of WOTAN taking over in the Post Office Tower of the 1960s.)

For some years, "home computers" had been available as kits for electronic hobbyists, though the input was likely a row of switches and the output a row of flashing lights. US manufacturers were starting to sell pre-assembled computers, but for the most part they were very expensive in the UK.

The prospect of industrial computers driving electronic automation, with dramatic changes to the labour market, sparked the government into action, as much as a government ever does, with awareness campaigns for industry. Meanwhile, in Cambridge, innovations were taking place on a budget. Sinclair produced the ZX80, then the ZX81; for a more polished product at a premium, Acorn produced the Atom. The BBC wanted a reliable machine it could use in a TV series on home computing; Acorn got the deal with the successor to the Atom and a more rigorous dialect of BASIC. The floodgates opened. Whilst not cheap, home computers became more available for those interested. (I had a Dragon 32; who needed lower case?) The government made some funding available for schools, with the BBC Micro being the common choice. (Where I lived, the alternative Research Machines 380Z, later 480Z, had been chosen, perhaps an odd choice, but as RM started to produce the IBM PC compatible Nimbus from the mid-1980s, a prescient one.)

Lean describes the boom - where people were waiting for months because of limited supply, and flaky quality control meant faults were not uncommon - and bust. With hindsight, the fact that all these machines had different, incompatible, dialects of BASIC (with the Jupiter Ace offering an even less-compatible FORTH) seems an obvious precursor to balkanization, and the use of standard domestic cassette tapes and recorders meant robust or cross-platform storage was impossible. Although the nominal intent was to offer general purpose machines, for learning and exploring technology, in practice commercial success was driven by available games software. The winners kept going into the 1990s. Another sector emerged as some manufacturers went up-market, taking on the IBM PC in the market for business applications. For a time, Britain led the way, though it all looks rather parochial now.

Lean also writes about other related technologies that didn't make it - Prestel, something of a walled garden pre-Internet experience plagued by Post Office bureaucracy (this was in the days of the acoustic coupler, surely the dial-up equivalent of dial-up) and monopolistic charging structures, and the Domesday Project, which picked what turned out to be an expensive technological dead-end and didn't consider the consequences of hardware obsolescence. But coming full circle, he notes the Raspberry Pi as something of a return to the original idea of a home computer for learning.

Five guys

May. 8th, 2022 11:31 am
qatsi: (capaldi)
Book Review: Euclid's Window - The Story of Geometry from Parallel Lines to Hyperspace, by Leonard Mlodinow
This is a re-read from many years ago. A book on geometry - or a biography of five significant people in the history of geometry - sounds like a very dull read, but Mlodinow really brings his subject alive. The story begins, more or less, with Euclid, although little is known about the real origin of his work. Even Euclid had difficulty with parallel lines, recognising that the parallel postulate didn't have quite the same stature as his other axioms. Descartes combined geometry and arithmetic, in a way that hadn't been apparent to earlier thinkers, even though maps and cartographers had been at work for centuries. Gauss thought the unthinkable, and considered what abstract geometry might be possible if the parallel postulate didn't hold true. Einstein returned the favour, taking the mathematics back into the realm of the physical universe. And Witten - the final figure in Mlodinow's canon, whose reputation is not yet assured - dissembles everything into strings and branes, bizarre nothingness out of which everything is somehow formed. This final chapter would need revision, as efforts to find supersymmetric particles have so far come to nought, and M-theory is not the only present candidate for a "theory of everything".

Mlodinow's writing is clear and relaxed, without being dumbed down. He's more effective than Dawkins in addressing the harm of anti-science theism - because instead of attacking the idea, he provides evidence in the form of results - the destruction of the Library of Alexandria and the fate of Hypatia, although his treatment is, as a part of the story in a short book, no doubt simplified. At the very least it's a warning that progress is not inevitable or irreversible.
qatsi: (urquhart)
Book Review: Adenauer - the Father of the New Germany, by Charles Williams
In the New Year I identified three books that had been sitting on my wish list for years, that I thought I ought to get round to reading. Only sometime later did I notice that they all have something of a WW2-theme to them, though that's not exactly unusual for my reading anyway. But then the war in Ukraine broke out, and the imminent onset of WW3 did not feel like the best time for this reading material.

But anyway, after a suitable sojourn of other reading material, I returned to this biography first, perhaps partly as a symmetry to the recent FDR biography. In fact these two gentlemen turn out to have some similarities of political character, if not of political position. There's more than a whiff of gerrymandering at any available opportunity by Adenauer (compare with the packing of the Supreme Court), and also the reluctance to "let go" towards the end. But, in balance, there are also the achievements: the formation of the CDU from the ruins of 1945, and more than a decade of reconstruction of West Germany. The book splits into four sections of Adenauer's life: The Kaiser's Germany, Weimar Germany, Hitler's Germany, and Adenauer's Germany - the last of these reasonably taking up about half the book although it is disproportionate to the length of time. From modest origins, Adenauer became Mayor of Köln during World War I and occupied the position through post-war occupation and until 1933. Hounded from office and persecuted for some time when the Third Reich took power, Adenauer had some peripatetic years, and carefully absented himself from any active resistance during World War 2. After an uneasy relationship with the occupying powers, he was eventually one of the founders of the CDU. What comes over now as a rather reactionary political philosophy, based largely on religious doctrine, may at the time have seemed more reasonable; his dislike of the SPD - considered merely a cover for the communists, and atheist to boot - seems likewise to be rather reactionary and paranoid, but there's no doubt it was electorally successful. This book also gives some insight into the perspectives and motivations of early post-war Germany in terms of the prospects for forming a single state, multiple states, or other arrangements; the supra-national ECSC and its successors; relations with France, and de Gaulle in particular; and alignment towards NATO or neutrality - the latter of which Adenauer perceived would lead inevitably to Germany becoming a Soviet satellite. The fickle nature of American military involvement in Europe - and the sometime reluctance of Europe to become self-sufficient in its defence - seem long-term issues that have still to be resolved.

FDR

Mar. 13th, 2022 08:35 pm
qatsi: (lurcio)
Book Review: FDR, by Jean Edward Smith
This was more of a doorstop than I had expected, and the world was a different place when I began reading it. My interest in the subject was driven by the pattern emerging from the infinite stream of WW2 documentaries on the leaders of the various powers - in particular the apparent naïvety of FDR regarding Stalin; his political ambivalence towards Britain is easier to comprehend. This book doesn't exactly resolve that for me, but it gives a lot more background to his character which goes some way. Born into privilege in 1882, and marrying into even more privilege, it is perhaps surprising that he should have entered the Democratic Party; but then, the positions of the two major US parties on various issues has moved strangely (to an outsider) over time. It's interesting that he occupied a position in the US Navy (Assistant Secretary) during World War 1, like Churchill: perhaps this goes some way to explaining their personal relationship, though there's no real discussion of his opinion of the British Empire. Also like Churchill, there's ample discussion of the divisive personality he was within his own party, though this was largely settled by electoral success. The New Deal and the "One Hundred Days" saw genuinely radical change, but the wider picture painted is rather more opportunistic and cynical - for example, the shameless attempt to pack the Supreme Court. Controversially seeking a third term in 1940, he found ways through the legal barriers to supporting the UK and France, prior to Pearl Harbor; rising again as a wartime leader, though often at odds with some of his military advice.

This felt like a thorough book, although it feels like it's missing an epilogue: what of FDR's legacy, Truman's succession, the 22nd amendment? The book is weighty enough without them, but there is perhaps still a sense of incompleteness.
qatsi: (capaldi)
Book Review: A Crack in the Edge of the World - the Great American Earthquake of 1906, by Simon Winchester
I think we acquired this from a book-swap shelf, in the Before Times of course. I usually find Simon Winchester's books interesting even if they may not be quite what I was expecting. This is a good case in point, as he ranges very broadly, with only a limited amount of writing about the 1906 earthquake in San Francisco and the subsequent fire. This is, perhaps, a slight liberty, as it's clear from the original publication date that this was intended to mark the centenary of that event, but Winchester gets away with diverging to include twentieth century geological developments in the areas of plate tectonics and continental drift, a historical overview of several other earthquakes across the North American plate, the danger presented by the Yellowstone super-volcano area, a series of episodes along the San Andreas fault, and a road trip from east coast to west coast, up to Alaska, and back.

On a more human scale, Winchester describes the history of the San Francisco area, from colonisation through the nineteenth century California gold rush. The new metropolis was not always robustly built, though there had been damaging seismic events within living memory. He considers the insurance industry, which exhibited a wide variation in behaviour between companies who paid up irrespective of the cause of damage, and those who held out, maintaining that policies covered fire damage but not earthquake damage. The earthquake ruptured water main pipes, meaning that the initial damage was quickly compounded by fires, generally started by falling electrical cables, with the fire service unable to respond effectively; in this context, Winchester discusses the option of filing the event under "great city fires of history" such as Rome, London, Hamburg and Dresden, though with a unique cause.
qatsi: (dascoyne)
Book Review: Mendelssohn is on the Roof, by Jiří Weil
The story starts with minor officials in the occupying German forces being ordered to remove the "Jewish" statue from the roof of the Prague Academy of Music. Unfortunately, neither they nor the workers assigned to the task know which is the statue of Mendelssohn. They decide it must be the one with the biggest nose, but that turns out to be Wagner. Awkward. Fortunately their mistake is prevented, but leads to a long trail of trying to discover, without admitting their ignorance, which is the statue to be removed. (This reminds me, retrospectively, of a conversation in the film The Death of Stalin: "There are no good doctors in Moscow, remember? We got rid of them". Likewise, presumably any books containing helpful reference images of Mendelssohn would have been burned.)

But the book weaves together, without really cohering, other stories of life in occupied Prague. A dying hospital patient, who has to be moved to the Jewish hospital. Fugitive children, who have to hide behind cupboards. The parlous existence of Jews in Prague and Theresienstadt, not initially included in transports to "the East". Resistance or indifference of other citizens. The assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, which seems to be a fixed point in time and space that features frequently in fiction concerning the period (for example The Visible World, The Prague Sonata). Early on in the book there is absurdism and humour; whilst it could have taken many directions, the tone becomes darker as it progresses, and though various conclusions would have been possible, the path that is ultimately taken is one that is foreseeable. No doubt a bleak case can be made that this is a work of catharsis or therapy for the author, who had to fake his own death to avoid the German authorities in 1942, and only a slight reworking of his experiences.
qatsi: (penguin)
Book Review: Wonderful Adventures of Mrs Seacole in Many Lands, by Mary Seacole
This had been on my to-read list for a while; without wishing to be too woke about it, Black History Month was perhaps a nudge. This edition starts with a somewhat awkward introduction by Sarah Salih, which draws attention to Seacole's writing about race - both her own and that of other people. The commentary is not without merit - Seacole describes herself as Creole, of "Scotch" (Scottish) / Jamaican heritage, has no time for slavery or the established racial prejudices of Americans in the early to mid nineteenth century, and is surprised by the less overt variant present in Britain; yet she also writes about black servants of her own in fairly dismissive terms - but I didn't feel it added much to what one would read in the main text itself.

The book is a highly selective autobiography, giving little detail of her childhood or short-lived marriage, but focusing instead on her work in providing basic medical care in Jamaica, mostly to the British garrison there, and then for some time in Panama, where she operated a hotel. She emerges as having the strong character necessary to pursue such a profession in the years of the Californian gold rush, when the most practical route from east to west was across central America. On hearing of the Crimean war, she ventured first to England, but was too late to apply for the initial tranche of nurses to be sent; furthermore, she sensed that, despite bearing testimonials from British soldiers in the Caribbean, "had there been a vacancy, I should not have been chosen to fill it."

But being outside the establishment did not put Seacole off, and with a relation of her late husband, she conspired to travel to the Crimea and set up the "British Hotel", where she would sell provisions, meals, and provide medical care to soldiers. Her meeting with Florence Nightingale in Scutari is documented only briefly; whilst respectful, it is difficult not to interpret it as tense; Nightingale's subsequent disapproving comments about Seacole's establishment carry to me a sense of naivety as much as anything else.

Seacole tells her story with good nature and humanity, and never with any bitterness, being phlegmatic about her financial losses (leading to bankruptcy) at the end of the war. It feels as though there is an element of playing to the gallery in her entertaining memoir, but the core is genuine.
qatsi: (baker)
Book Review: Seasons in the Sun - Britain 1974-1979, by Dominic Sandbrook
Whenever I read biographically about Sandbrook, I feel disturbed. Writing for the Telegraph, Mail and Spectator does not endear me to him. But I have found his TV and book histories quite reasonable and fun. How can you not like someone who writes this?
As it happened, Scargill had just got back from the Yorkshire Miners' Gala beauty contest, judged by the unlikely duo of David Dimbleby and Tom Baker.

Although it begins with a slice of 1976 - arguing just how much Star Wars is a British film - like the preceding volume, this history is framed by general elections, beginning in 1974 with the unexpected victory (of sorts) of Harold Wilson. His opinion is that Wilson was already in decline; the intrigue in Number 10 around Marcia Williams and other advisers combined with Wilson's instinct for compromise (not necessarily in a good way) to produce less-than-masterly inaction. Although the immediate industrial unrest was quietened, this was not sustainable: group after group proved to be a "special case" when it came to pay awards. Wilson's paranoia (around right-wing intelligence agencies, South Africa in particular) was fed by rumours in the Jeremy Thorpe affair.

Sandbrook's disavowal of Heath is matched only by his copious scorn for the former Viscount Stansgate, Tony Benn. Quoting amply from Benn's own diaries he loses no opportunity to ridicule Benn's ideas of a "siege economy", or of Benn's various crackpot ideas about class war and solidarity. Indeed, he enjoys pointing out the self-destructive capitalist beggar-my-neighbour approach of various trade unions in the period.

Callaghan and Healey were left holding the parcel when the music stopped, and had to negotiate with the IMF. Sandbrook described Callaghan as "Britain's first monetarist Prime Minister" and is quite praising of the results. It does feel that both political sides share responsibility, having avoided hard questions around inflation and productivity for years, even decades. I think Sandbrook is harsh in describing Keynesianism as a "failure"; it's more the case that it had outlived by quite some way its usefulness, and ought to have been retired long before, but politicians also feared (with good reason) a return to high unemployment as in the 1930s.

Away from the economy, Northern Ireland (and, from time to time, the British mainland) was in flames; Wilson announced a referendum on EEC membership, then avoided campaigning in it (sound familiar?). Away from politics, the book covers drought, the rise of punk, Abba and the Silver Jubilee. Yet people do seem to look back nostalgically on the period. But this book does feel more politically focussed than its predecessor. Written in 2012, some of the tone feels ominously prescient (a small island nation unable to "move on" from its imperial past, with a void in the political centre), role-reversed compared to the present (fears of far left government), or downright wrong with hindsight ("At least Britain did not fall prey to incessant US-style culture wars.").

Sandbrook credits the Callaghan government with getting the economic situation under reasonable control by late 1978, when there were rumours that a general election might be called. But Callaghan demurred, feeling that the polls were too close to call, and that the prospects would be better after some months of stability. Inexplicably - or so it seems now - various trade union sections thought differently, and destroyed the relatively benign conditions with the catastrophic Winter of Discontent. The description of the first few months of 1979 and the election has the air of Gauda Prime Day to it: not so much Star Wars as The Empire Strikes Back.
qatsi: (lurcio)
Book Review: Claudius the God, by Robert Graves
Following on from I, Claudius, this chronicles in an autobiographical style the reign of the emperor Claudius. On Goodreads it's titled Claudius the God and his wife Messalina, but the copy here has the shorter title, and whilst Messalina is a significant character, it doesn't really feel as though the book is about her.

In fact, the first few chapters are devoted to documenting the life of Herod Agrippa, who is perhaps just one among many characters seeking to take advantage of Claudius' good nature, in this case ultimately by stoking a rising in the Roman territories around Palestine. Despite his stated republican ambitions, Claudius doesn't shy away from quite a few summary executions, with many others encouraged to pre-empt this by taking their own life; all in a day's work, apparently. The writing perhaps hints at a descent into this behaviour, but there's no suggestion that Claudius isn't generally reconciled to it all. I suppose after all he had seen beforehand, it was just the accepted way.

Graves also makes a good chunk of the book about Claudius' invasion and early conquest of Britain. Perhaps the idea of the late middle-aged armchair general directing things is a bit reminiscent of Pliny's hunting escapades. But it's clear that the insecure Claudius felt the need for some military campaign and success before he could accept the honours the obsequious Senate periodically attempted to award him.

There is some discussion about engineering works commissioned or completed by Claudius, such as aqueducts and the harbour at Ostia (Portus).
Claudian Aqueduct
For the rest, it's mostly about plots against him, whether real or imagined by others to get rid of their own rivals. Messalina is eventually found out, but her behaviour has been known to all but Claudius for a long time. Whilst the subject of the book may be compared to Augustus' own Res Gestae, the writing style is definitely Graves/Suetonius masquerading as Clau-Clau-Claudius.
qatsi: (meades)
Book Review: The Battle for Spain - The Spanish Civil War 1936-1939, by Antony Beevor
My understanding was that the Spanish Civil War was complicated, and although I knew of this book, I avoided it for some time. But Carlos Ruiz Zafón's Cemetery of Forgotton Books tetralogy eventually piqued my interest, and by coincidence I came across a copy of this book in the local Oxfam bookshop just after reading The Labyrinth of the Spirits. Various things intervened, and for a while I was avoiding too much heavy reading, but I decided it was time.

This took me the best part of a month to read, and at times it was heavy going. But this is because the subject is complicated. Beevor does his best to present the facts: polarized but weak governance in Spain, a vacuum in the political centre, an ongoing culture war on the roles of the Catholic church and the monarchy. Perhaps Spanish neutrality in the First World War meant that the prospect of violence was not as abhorrent as elsewhere. Or perhaps stereotypically Latin temperaments meant that it was inevitable. Beevor certainly reflects on these perceptions later in the book.

The attempt at a military coup in 1936 was not immediately successful, but nor was it vanquished as it could have been. Beevor repeatedly paints a picture of inadequacy on the part of the republican government, perhaps more one of denial than of incompetence. By failing to suppress the coup, it allowed a stand-off to develop, with towns and regions partitioning into the two sides. Terrible violence occurred on both sides, which perhaps feeds some of the plots in Zafón's novels. The conflict became a proxy war between Germany and the USSR; I had not appreciated quite the extent of involvement on both sides. Coinciding with the Great Terror in the USSR, the Soviet military repeatedly planned high-profile offensives that failed, but scapegoats were always found, despite poor strategy and a lack of pragmatism. German involvement was more effective, but reports back to Berlin frequently detailed indifference with regard to the nationalist army. Italian involvement is predictably relegated, if one can describe military action in such a way, to the comic relief. Yet it has to be acknowledged that the enigmatic Franco preferred steady and ruthless efficiency over propaganda victories, and he achieved success - of a sort - for far longer than Europe's other dictators. Beevor extends the final chapter beyond 1939, and invokes considerable irony to point out the way in which the Spanish regime attempted to pivot from one side to the other in the wider conflict, implemented an almost Soviet-style economic autarky for many years, but had to embrace some progress from the 1960s onwards by developing its tourism industry. As expected, it's a well-considered book that discusses its subject thoroughly, prompting yet further questions.

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