Vladimir Bukovsky 1942-2019

Vladimir Bukovsky passed away this past weekend at the age of 76. Before he was expelled from the Soviet Union in 1976, Bukovsky spent 12 years in prisons, psychiatric hospitals, and labor camps. Vladimir Nabokov said of Bukovsky, "Bukovsky's heroic speech to the court in defense of freedom, and his five years of martyrdom in a despicable psychiatric jail will be remembered long after the torturers he defied have rotted away." Here is the obituary at the Vladimir Bukovsky site. And there's this from Juliana Geran Pilon's Monday Wall Street Journal column on Bukovsky (behind a paywall, unfortunately):

In 1992, the year after the Soviet Union collapsed, Bukovsky was asked to return to Russia as an expert witness at a trial against President Boris Yeltsin. Yeltsin had banned the Communist Party and seized its property. Bukovsky’s argument, which he had always believed, was that the party had been unconstitutional. To demonstrate it, Bukovsky requested access to the Central Committee archives. Using a laptop and hand-held scanner, he surreptitiously copied and smuggled out thousands of pages before being discovered.

His findings were captured in Judgment in Moscow, first published in 1995 in French, then in Russian and other European languages. It didn’t come out in English until this year. Its subtitle, “Soviet Crimes and Western Complicity,” gives a clue as to why. When Bukovsky first attempted to publish the book in English, in the 1990s, the American publisher had asked him to rewrite “the entire book from the point of view of a leftist liberal,” he wrote. Specifically, he was told to omit all mention of media companies that had entered agreements to publish articles and cover media events “under the direct editorial control of the Soviets.” He rejected the offer, and the publisher canceled the contract.

The documents cited in the book demonstrate, he wrote, the “treacherous role of the American left”—its complicity with Moscow during the 1930s and ’40s, infiltration of the U.S. government and assistance to the Soviets during the Cold War. They demonstrate also the Kremlin’s support for Middle Eastern terrorists, Mikhail Gorbachev’s sabotage of the European Community, and the pseudoliberalism of Mr. Gorbachev’s “perestroika.”

Judgment in Moscow didn't have an English translation until earlier this year when it was released by Ninth of November Press. For a starting point, I recommend 1978's To Build a Castle: My Life as a Dissenter (see the Links section). The chilling note at the beginning of a recent edition of the book reads "Truly we were born to make Kafka live."

A few quick links to explore:

• The Vladimir Bukovsky site
• The Bukovsky archives—"The classified documents that make up this archive were copied secretly by Vladimir Bukovsky in 1992 as he prepared to testify at the trial of the CPSU."
• A pdf of To Build a Castle. It's a bare-bones copy, but as I mentioned earlier it's a great introduction to Bukovsky.
• From the Gulag to Brexit, The life and death of Vladimir Bukovsky, the fiery dissident who shed light on Soviet punitive psychiatry
• Remembering Vladimir Bukovsky (1942-2019): a long-ago lunch with a man who loved freedom and roses at The Book Haven

There is a lot more available online about Bukovsky and his work.

Women of the Gulag film

Several years ago I posted on Women of the Gulag: Portraits of Five Remarkable Lives by Paul R. Gregory. A moving and powerful book, Gregory detailed some of the problems that five Soviet women faced when victimized by the gulag system. I believe I first found out about the book from Cynthia Haven at The Book Haven, and over the years she has posted about a film based on the book being made and the awards it was nominated for. The film was directed by Marianna Yarovskaya and produced by Yarovskaya and Gregory. Over the years I've added some of Cynthia's updates to my original post, but I'll list some of them here, too.

• Terror’s human face: Women of the Gulag – the book and the movie. Help make it happen.
• Will Women of the Gulag get an Oscar next month? Please vote yes. Putin won’t like it.
• Oscar endorsement for Women of the Gulag: “To go through such suffering without going mad is a spiritual feat.”
• Stalin loses at the Academy Awards … again.

Cynthia has also posted about a screening that the film had at Stanford and a podcast on the Q&A session afterwords. Her post includes more on the film:

The film tells the compelling stories of six remarkable women – among the last survivors of the Gulag, the brutal system of repression that devastated the Soviet population during the Stalin years. Most stories of the gulag have told of men’s experience. Women of the Gulag is the first account of women in the camps and special settlements.

Check out the links from Cynthia's post and from my post on the book. I'm looking forward to when I'll be able to see the movie. Also play the podcast she includes from the Q&A session. Yarovskaya mentions that most of the ladies from the film had died or were too infirm to attend the screening the movie had in Moscow, but that one woman was able to attend. Yarovskaya and Gregory talk about how the gulags are viewed in Russia today (if someone knows about them at all) and how the screenings and support from the government gradually occurred. (Note: it may have been my system, but the podcast froze occasionally. In case others run into that problem, I could get it to resume playing by skipping ahead 10-15 seconds.)

If you're not tired of links yet, here are two more to visit:
The film's website, which has a clip from the movie and goes into more detail of its making
An interview with the director

Picture source

Vasily Grossman and the Soviet Century by Alexandra Popoff

Vasily Grossman and the Soviet Century by Alexandra Popoff
Yale University Press, 2019
Hardcover, 424 pages

Stalingrad by Vasily Grossman is officially released today. While I'm waiting for my copy to arrive by mail, I wanted to share a little about this outstanding biography. Alexandra Popoff has written several literary biographies and is a former Moscow journalist. In Vasily Grossman and the Soviet Century she follows Grossman's life and how it was intertwined with and influenced by a large part of Soviet history. While officially a reporter in World War II, Grossman's mature writings capture two of the totalitarian nightmares of the century.

As a Jew whose mother was killed by the Nazis in his native Berdichev, Ukraine, Grossman felt the twentieth-century calamities most acutely. His mother had perished in September 1941, during one of the first massacres of Jews in the occupied Soviet territories. Her destiny became the strongest motivation force in Grossman's life. It prompted him to become an early chronicler of the Holocaust and was behind his determination to tell the whole truth about the global evil unleashed by the twentieth-century's totalitarian regimes. (page 3)

In his last and most radical anti-totalitarian novel, Everything Flows, written after the arrest of Life and Fate, he declares that "there is no end in the world for the sake of which it is permissible to sacrifice human freedom." (5)

To help in understanding Grossman's early life, Popoff describes the treatment of the Jews in Russia: pogroms, distrust, deportation. Grossman was twelve at the time of the February 1917 revolution, with promises of freedom and equality ending when Lenin seized power. As Popoff covers Grossman's life, she notes how much of his life and the experiences of his friends were used in his writings. His scientific background and job took him to various places around the Soviet Union and he was able to see firsthand some of the horror from the deliberate Ukrainian famine of the early 1930s. Members of his family were exiled or murdered, and his father lived in constant fear of arrest. Many of his early writer friends were shot as traitors to the state.

While aware of the nature of Stalin's regime throughout his life, Grossman's early works were fairly conventional even if they didn't quite fit the socialist realism (propaganda) mold that journals and censors wanted. Popoff delves into these works to find seeds for later, more confrontational writing, especially in his determination to make truthful depictions.

An endorsement from Maxim Gorky took Grossman from relative obscurity to publications clambering for his work. As Popoff details, having Gorky as a friend or an acquaintance was no guarantee of safety since there were repeated purges of those not faithful or loyal enough to the Soviet state or just simply being an inconvenience to those in power. Grossman's fame brought him close to authors who would later be suspect and/or liquidated because of relationships or publications that weren't pure enough. Some of his writings were noted for their ideological unsoundness, but he (mostly) escaped harsh treatment. His wife in the late 1930s, though, was arrested. Her eventual release was a rarity for the time.

Germany's invasion in 1941 changed Grossman's life drastically. As noted above, his mother was trapped in the former Ukraine, although Grossman would not learn of her outcome for several years. Taking a job as a war correspondent, Grossman saw firsthand the incompetence of Stalin's micromanagement and the heroism of the lowly Soviet soldier. His job also afforded him with access and information that most Soviets would never see, such as experiencing the siege of Stalingrad or the liberation of concentration camps. His reports were prominently published (after censorship, of course) and what he saw and learned provided the basis for his greatest novels.

In a book that provides exciting and moving passages, the two chapters I found the most exciting and the most moving are "The Battle of Stalingrad" and "Arithmetic of Brutality" (Chapters 8 & 9). Stalingrad provided Grossman deep insight into the Soviet (and human) psyche. Men and women fight hopeless battles, but feel more alive because of their freedom in doing so, provides some of the most stirring passages in Life and Fate. In his later writings, Grossman often focused on the ordinary...men, events, etc....for deeper looks into what it is to be human, and the siege gave him plenty of examples to use. Some of the worst aspects of the battle was the fight for recognition after it was over, ignoring the countless casualties needed to secure the victory. "Arithmetic" also looked at countless casualties, in this case those of the Jews during the war. The chapter follows Grossman during the revelations of deportations and massacres of the Jews across Soviet territory and German territory. He helped work on The Complete Black Book of Russian Jewry (often shortened to The Black Book), providing a record for a worldwide audience of the special targeting of Jews during the war. While the Kremlin was uninterested in allowing such a publication, several of Grossman's articles such as "The Murder of the Jews of Berdichev" (which included his mother's death) and "The Hell of Treblinka" combined "investigative journalism, a historical and philosophical essay, and "a requiem to the victims." (173) The strain of what he saw and his work on articles to capture the atrocities took its toll on him personally, causing Grossman to have a nervous collapse. Another result is that his writing would not be the same.

Grossman saw his duty in writing as becoming a Soviet Tolstoy, recording a War and Peace for the Soviet era. Fortunately for us, this yielded Stalingrad and Life and Fate, a deliberate comparison to Tolstoy's sweep and storytelling. Unfortunately for him, his work on such an epic would show his dedication to the truth, which was at odds with Soviet politics. Popoff mines Grossman's personal journal for the circumstances and difficulties of publishing his novel For the Right Cause (the published title for Stalingrad). He constantly had to rewrite large sections while fighting to keep central storylines in the novel. Since Stalin was still alive, many hurdles and restraints surrounded publication and it was a tortuous path before the bowdlerized version was released.

One of the low points of Grossman's life was adding his name to the letter by prominent Soviet Jews denouncing the Jewish physicians who were part of the so-called "Doctors Plot" against Stalin. His character Viktor Shtrum signs a similar document in Life and Fate and it's fair to infer that the guilt of character reflects Grossman's feelings of complicity. After Stalin's death and a slight thawing of restrictions, Grossman began work on Life and Fate in order to show the dehumanization of both the Communists and Fascists against man's needs for love, compassion, and freedom. It's still a wonder that the novel was arrested instead of the author. Despite this escape, Grossman didn't have long to live. He died from stomach cancer in September 1964 with several of his works unpublished, and those that had been released mangled by censors.

Alexandra Popoff does a superb job or recounting Grossman's remarkable life, fleshing out the political and social background of his life and times in order to fully appreciate his writings. She also details how parts of his life and his experiences make into his stories. For anyone wanting more of a background on Grossman and how he fit into the "Soviet Century," start here. Very highly recommended.

Update:
For more on Grossman, see Yury Bit-Yunan and Robert Chandler's article Vasily Grossman: Myths and Counter-Myths on sorting out facts of Grossman's life from “Soviet intelligentsia folklore."

Excerpt from Be Like the Fox: Machiavelli in His World by Erica Benner

I wanted to wait until I had a released copy of Be Like the Fox to quote anything from it. Here's a lengthy excerpt about an episode late in Machiavelli's life. The setting: the Medici successfully returned to Florence in 1512 and Machiavelli was removed from office. He remained in political exile until 1521 when he went on a mission to a Franciscan monastery in Carpi on behalf of the Florentine government. Benner shows the lighter side of Machiavelli on this mission. The italicized are quotes come directly from the mentioned letters.

[O]n arriving at the monastery, he is overwhelmed with gloom. A humourless little monk shows him to a dreary cell where he is to sleep. The food is bad, in equal parts bland, stale, and nasty; the company is much the same. His impulse is to ridicule it all, but there is no one there to laugh with him. ...

He could never wallow in humiliation for long. Now, instead, he'll try to make fun of his plight, his hosts, himself. After a long day of wrangling with his prolix, painfully tedious hosts, he writes to Guicciardini. Magnificent Governor. I am turning over some way in which I might stir up strife among these friarhoods so that they might start going after each other with their wooden clogs. His advanced age and outsider status have made him freer than most men he knows, or than his younger self, to indulge in pure silliness. Send me a servant, or a messenger, whose attentions would cause my reputation among these friars to swell. Bugger decorum.

The next day a crossbowman arrives, bearing a letter addressed to His Magnificence M. Niccolò Machiavelli, Florentine Nuncio, etc. That 'M.' is good, he thinks. He is neither a Messer—a qualified doctor of laws or medicine—nor a Monsignor, but these monks are vulgar enough to be agog at the faintest hint of a title. On seeing the martial-looking messenger and hearing whispers, 'To His Magnificence!' the friars spring up from their seats and swarm around their visitor, asking him what the news was. And I, he tells Guicciardini later that day, to heighten my prestige, said that the emperor was expected at Trent, that the Swiss had convened fresh embassies, that the King of France wanted this and that. Think he must be a diplomat of very great stature, they all stood around with their mouths hanging open.

Send a flurry of further dispatches, he implores Guicciardini. If those friars see dispatches arriving thick and fast, my shabby conditions here might improve.

Francesco, good man, gladly obliges. 'Though I'm not,' he writes, 'in the habit of performing such services without pay.' He promises to send a fresh crossbowman to Niccolò the following day with his shirt flying behind his hips, so that everyone will believe you are an important personage.

Their plot works wonders. Within hours, Niccolò has been given a better bed and much better meals. I gobble up enough for six dogs and three wolves, he reports to his co-conspirator. He revels in his new-found status. Even as I write this, he tells his friend, I have a ring of monks about me; they marvel and gaze at me as at one inspired. And I, to make them marvel even more, sometimes pause writing and breathe deeply. They absolutely begin drooling.
(269-270)

This is a guy I'd want to knock back some Tuscan wine with over a long evening.

Also: My notes on the book can be found here.

Be Like the Fox by Erica Benner

Be Like the Fox: Machiavelli in His World by Erica Benner
W. W. Norton & Company, 2017

Erica Brenner's study of "Machiavelli in his world" is being released today. I obtained an advance reading copy secondhand and wanted to pass on a few of my thoughts about the book since I found it helpful and enjoyable. I'll keep quotes from it to a bare minimum since these were uncorrected proofs.

Having your name end up as a common adjective seems to be a mixed bag. Sometimes it has a positive or at least neutral connotation, such as platonic, ritzy, or socratic. Many times though, such eponymous usage is not intended to be something nice, as in the cases of Sisyphean, chauvinistic, or draconian (actually existing is optional in some of these usages). In the case of "Machiavellian," it's rarely meant as a compliment since the intent is to describe someone as cunning and deceitful.

Much of Machiavelli's reputation stems from The Prince, his political treatise dedicated to Lorenzo di Piero de Medici (although initially intended for Lonrenzo's uncle, Giuliano). Instructing a Medici to be ruthless, tyrannical, and immoral may seem like asking a fish to be wet, so what is really going on here? And how can certain messages in The Prince be reconciled with Machiavelli's other writings supporting a republic and extolling positive virtues? Is it possible to reconcile contradictory passages in The Prince itself?

Benner addresses these questions of Machiavelli's apparent contradictions and ambiguities by reviewing his many works—"political and military writings, histories, personal letters, diplomatic dispatches, poems, and plays"—as well as writings of his contemporaries. What she ends up with is a splendid history bringing Florentine society to life, showing how the republic's political life impacted Machiavelli and influenced his writings. I'm not sure I completely buy into her explanations on some of Machiavelli's writings, but she provides a useful guide in listening to his own voice instead of his reputation.

Despite many scholarly books, papers, etc. showing Machiavelli isn't the demonic figure the adjective implies, the question remains on how to read The Prince. In his 1972 essay on "The Originality of Machiavelli" Isaiah Berlin noted there were "over a score of leading theories of how to interpret The Prince and the Discourses" and over three thousand items on a bibliography of the same. One can only imagine what the multiple of that number is up to today.

So is The Prince to be read in a straightforward manner, as if it's Machiavelli's job application for the Medicis? Or just the opposite, as if it were satire at the Medicis' expense? Benner chooses a different approach, arguing that The Prince should be read ironically, an approach close to what some of his defenders in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries proposed (see Diderot, Bacon, Spinoza, and Rousseau for examples). She says she has found it helpful to place Machiavelli "squarely in his world" when trying to interpret his writings, which is what she presents in this book. Note the U.S. subtitle of Machiavelli in His World, which I think does a better job of summing up the book's achievement than the U.K. edition's subtitle of Machiavelli's Lifelong Quest for Freedom. Not that freedom isn't addressed...Benner notes that no one did more to advance the freedom of the Florentine republic...but my preference is with the former.

Machiavelli seems to have been on the outside of the Florentine "in crowd," even when he was serving important roles for the republic. His knowledge of classical history, especially of the Roman republic and empire, paints him as a man out of his time. Coursing through much of his writing is the influence and domination of Florence by outside forces, such as France, Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, and various popes as well as the undue influence of insiders like the Medicis or Savonarola. His disappointment in such influence and domination doesn't stop with those acts but also in how locals responded to them, many meekly accepting events while others tried to profit from them. Along the way of displaying Machiavelli's life and times are portraits of many larger-than-life characters he saw or dealt with: Giraloma Savonarola, Caterina Sforza, King Louis XII, Paolo and Vitellozzo Vitelli, Pope Alexander VI, and Pope Julius II. Machiavelli's biography places him in a fascinating place and time in history, where he becomes an actor in the many dramatic conspiracies and political intrigues of the day.

I'll skip much of Machiavelli's biography here in order to talk a little about Benner's approach. She notes that in her own repeated reading of Machiavelli's work she finds some of the more bombastic statements (especially in The Prince) are undercut by caveats and insinuations. Machiavelli admitted that he didn't always say what he believed, hiding the truth among many lies. But if we're supposed to read between the lines, how do we know when we get it right? Benner's approach is to look at all his other writings and find the consistent voice, even if it's in a lower or softer register. It seems there may be a further problem, though, in trusting that baseline too much, especially from someone that admits to writing lies. What are we supposed to do when we see some of the outrageous lines from The Prince echoed in other works? I'm not saying Benner is wrong, just that reading Machiavelli's intent seems even trickier to intuit given the many challenges she highlights.

Since there is so much source material available, Benner weaves in many quotes and abridgments in reconstructing Machiavelli's life, making the work more conversational. While some fictional embellishments are added with this approach in order to increase the dramatic effect, fortunately they seem to be kept to a minimum. My concern with the reliance on the quotes (and abridgments) lies in their chronological accuracy. In other words, can something Machiavelli wrote in The Prince or the Discourses or correspondence accurately reflect his intent or meaning in something he wrote a decade earlier? The worst case, I guess, is that we're reading what the older Machiavelli thinks of earlier events (assuming we're taking him at face value correctly or reading between the lines properly). Another potential drawback is that we don't get to see the development of his political thought over time.

"Take Nothing on Authority," "Build Dykes and Dams," "Be Like the Fox," and "Simulate Stupidity" are some of the chapter titles, using parts of Machiavelli's quotes to provide themes for the different stages of his life. Some like "Beware of Doctors" also provide an example of the undercurrent or two-register writing Benner alerts us to since medici means doctor. So what does "Be Like the Fox," the title of a chapter and the book, imply? While we often associate foxes with craftiness and deceit, Machiavelli defines this simile to highlight the fox's ability to avoid snares, something Machiavelli ultimately was unable to do.

Even with the caveats or questions above, I still recommend the book. Benner provides a great introduction to Machiavelli's life and times, assisting the reader to understand his influences and challenges during these tumultuous years. It's a complicated time period to try to explain, but Benner's conversational style helps in presenting the events. Machiavelli may be represented too much on the idealized side, swinging the pendulum away from demonization, but that makes reading his works all the more important in order to listen to his voice and make up your own mind. Highly recommended.

---

Regarding other features of the book (and noting again I don't have a final copy yet), the inclusion of a "Dramatis Personae" proved to be helpful, especially since several names are similar and I needed occasional reference to distinguish between family members. While not entirely necessary, I found myself wishing for a map or maps to show proximities of and directions between the republics and principalities. Assuming there isn't one in the finished book, Benner does a fine job of including helpful details to stand in for maps, plus there are some to choose from online such as this one.

Lastly, many thanks to Tyler Cowen for mentioning this book in one of his "What I’ve been reading" posts.

Link: The publisher's page for the book

Update:
An excerpt I enjoyed from the book, showing what a playful character Machiavelli could be (at least in this case)

Update (13 May 2017):
I just got a copy of the official release and it has two maps—one of Italy in the late 15th century and one of Florence. Both are well done and should prove very helpful for readers!

Catullus' Bedspread by Daisy Dunn

Catullus’ Bedspread: The Life of Rome’s Most Erotic Poet by Daisy Dunn
Harper, 2016
Hardcover, 336 pages

An attempt to get back in the swing of posting...

Catullus' Bedspread by Daisy Dunn, released to coincide with her translation titled The Poems of Catullus (also from Harper) looks at the life and work of the poet commonly known for bawdy writing. As Dunn demonstrates, Gaius Valerius Catullus also turned out poetry that provided reflections and insight into the tumultuous times of his age, as well as influencing the poetry of Ovid, Virgil, and Horace (and other significant poets). His mini-epic, Poem 64, which Dunn nicknames the "bedspread poem," is a stunning achievement. The poem hss a maze-like structure describing artworks within artworks, comparing the mores of his modern times unfavorably to the mythical Golden Age.

Catullus' Bedspread has two distinct but intertwined goals. The first goal attempts to provide a biography of the poet. As Dunn highlights, "There are very few surviving sources for Catullus' life. Practically everything that can be known about him must be extracted from his book of poetry." But as Catullus points out in his poems, a poet's writing doesn't necessarily reflect the author's life. Dunn acknowledges that Catullus' poetry was meant for "public consumption, and not necessarily as a faithful account" of his life. So we know we're entering dangerous ground when relying on his poems for facts about his life. So how does the biography goal work out?

I'll admit I'm extremely wary when it comes to speculative biographies, especially at moments when Dunn decisively states things Catullus did or experienced. That being said, many of Dunn's key assumptions track consistently with what I've seen presented in other recent works, although I must note my background in this area is limited. The general framework of Catullus' biography, what is generally accepted, yields only a glimpse at what must have been an interesting life. Born in approximately 82 BC, he was raised in Verona while it was part of Cisalpine Gaul (people there wouldn't be granted full Roman citizenship until 49 BC). Since his family was well to do, his father would have met with many influential people of the day as they passed through the area. Catullus moved to Rome around his 21st year. We know he worked in an administrative position for a year in Bithynia, then died in his 30th year, around 53 BC. Not much for hard facts, is it? Yet we have his poetry, which hints at a lot depth in an unsettled soul during those turbulent times.

This leads to the second goal of the book, in which the turmoil of the era in addition to his tumultuous life infuses his poetry, The literary analysis of his work by Dunn shows the influences of and experimentation within his works. Or as Dunn puts it, "Catullus provides the poetry; I offer something of the world that informed it. ... If together he and I can bridge the distance that lies between us, then even the most labyrinthine of his poems sing." On this point I think Dunn does an excellent job, putting the poems in context with what is happening in Rome and its lands at the time.

And what a time it was. The decade of Catullus' birth saw the civil war between Sulla and Marius. A decade before his birth Rome experienced the Social War, where Italian allies demanded full citizenship. In his childhood, Catullus would have heard about Sulla's dictatorship and his death, the never-ending conflict between Mithridates and Rome, and the Spartacus revolt. In his teens he would have heard about Pompey's success against sea pirates and his eventual defeat of Mithridates. His move to Rome would have been around the time of Pompey the Great's third triumph and Caesar's governorship of Further Spain. He would have seen the formation of the First Triumvirate between Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus and the start of Caesar's Gallic War. Catullus lived long enough to see Cicero's exile and recall, hear about Caesar's attempts to invade Britain, and possibly even Crassus' death at the battle of Carrhae.

These were interesting times indeed, and Dunn does a great job of putting Catullus' writings in the context of these events. In addition, she also demonstrates the major influences on Catullus, especially that of Sappho and Callimachus. Catullus' poems include details on daily life with pointed political commentary. Dunn's analysis of Catullus' writing was the most lively and entertaining part of the book. The more I learned what was behind the subject...the "secrets and allusions in Catullus' Latin which take some teasing out" as Dunn puts it...the more appreciative I am of his poems.

I highly recommend the book for the spotlight Dunn focuses on Catullus' writing and the political and social dynamics of the time (and place) influencing his poetry. As I mentioned, there are some parts of the biography section that trouble me, but Dunn makes her approach clear and provides plenty of contemporary and historical notes and sources supporting her narrative. While her conjectures about his life based on his poetry and from these sources aren't flights of fancy, nevertheless it's difficult to discern just how well grounded they are, but she makes clear her assumptions and approach. Her presentation of the events and context of his writing helps alleviate some of my concerns, while her literary analysis makes me want to read Catullus' works again. Fortunately there are plenty of excerpts in the book as well as the complete Poem 64 (all her translations).

---

Note: For anyone interested in the woman that inspired some of Catullus' poetry (whether praising or excoriating her), see Clodia Metelli by Marilyn Skinner. This biography of the woman that was likely "Lesbia" in Catullus' poems provides insight into the age, not just the political turmoil, but also the societal issues for a woman of her social rank. Also, I've really enjoyed the Yale University Press' Hermes Books Series, providing academic research behind the introduction to the books' topics. For a different introductory approach to Catullus, see Charles Marin's Catullus in this series.


Update (22 Aug 2018): Daisy Dunn has an article at the L.A. Review of Books: When a Love Poet Writes an Epic: Catullus’s “Poem 64”

A Fringe of Blue: A Fringe of Blue 1918 - 23

...and bid them that they shall make them fringes in the borders of their garments throughout their generations, and that they put upon the fringe of the borders a ribband of blue: and it shall be unto you for a fringe, that ye may look upon it, and remember all the commandments of the Lord, and do unto them.
Numbers 15

Related posts

• A Fringe of Blue: Australian Prelude 1893 - 1917

The second section of Joice Nankivell Loch's autobiography opens with her determination to travel from her home in Australia to Europe. At this point in her life, she has published some of her writing and wrote a regular column for a newspaper but she wanted to be a more serious writer. She recounts her dangerous voyage to England in 1918: armistice had been declared but ships were still being fired upon. Joice had known Sydney Loch while they were in Australia and she had reviewed a book of his on the Gallipoli campaign. They married in 1919 and move to Dublin as freelance writers during what she called "the final eighteen months of the Sinn Fein war." While in Ireland the couple moved in colorful circles, especially the artistic group around George Russell (AE). In response to concerns of family members about her safety while writing about the fighting, she comments, "[I]n those days newspapers were not ruled so much by political gangsters as now, and journalists occasionally aimed at accuracy."

Despite the "period of madness" she describes, it's clear she loved Ireland, probably even more so because of the eccentricities and quirks of the people she portrays. With the peace, though, Joice notes how everything fell apart as everyone quickly turned on each other. She and her husband decide to go to Russia, so they contact Quakers who ran relief organizations there and in parts of Europe. They are assigned to go to Poland instead and Joice promptly falls in love with it. "I lost my heart to Poland. It was breathtaking in its summer dress, and equally so sheeted with winter snow." (69) Her love of nature, developed in the Australian bush, shines through in her descriptions of the country.

The history of the eastern part of the country, where they were assigned, reads like a horror story. Before, during, and after World War I saw massive population migration, uprooting millions of people. Three to four million people were displaced, many dying in transit to a new home, but the end of the fighting offered no relief:

After the war came the Russian famine, and those who had fled from the easter provinces of Poland began to stream back again to the forests, trenches, and barbed-wire where their homes had been. Again they died as the travelled, of hunger, typhus, and cholera. Those who arrived crawled into underground trenches, dug themselves holes in the ground, and mad bough shelters. ... Eastern Poland was a vast soldiers' grave. I have seen tall forests of silver-birch saplings growing in goodly thickets through the heaped skeletons of Russian soldiers. Hills were covered with skeletons laid one over the other in the manner of their falling, and one could not imagine any left to attend to those idea. Their arms were stretched in front of them, their skulls shot through. They were piled before barbed wire, or heaped on the brink of trenches; or the hundred ways of the Stochod [River] were blocked with them. Boots still clasped their legs, but for the most part the bones were picked clean. (70, 74)

Joice and Sydney work with the Quakers in medical and reconstruction units along the eastern border of the country. Despite the difficulties and dangers, her love of the people and the country shines through in numerous vignettes, whether she's describing how a famous school trained bears to dance or how peasants dealt with sickness and scarcity. The couple took advantage of an opportunity to go to Russia for a few weeks and observe life in Moscow after the revolution, a strange mix of beauty and brutality. They are able to visit a Tolstoy museum and a Tolstoy Colony, each run by daughters of the writer. Even though there was much to enjoy, at least as observers, Joice began to sour on the country. Or at least what she was hearing while there. "[I]t was not the bloodletting and cruelty, the slavery and starvation, that disillusioned us. It was the awful boring platitudes. Nothing new; not one original note. It amazed us to find how much of a pattern all political upheavals are." (89)

They return to Poland, finding beauty in the harshest of places and elements. It was at a party held for the French General Foch that Joice explains where the title of the book originated. She was wearing a black silk taffeta dress with a blue-bordered fringe when a Polish general quoted from the Book of Numbers (above), saying it was an omen that she would serve others all her life. In 1922, with the work of the Mission in Poland winding down, Joice and Sydney attend a meeting detailing the mass movement of people that was about to take place between Greece and Turkey under the direction of the League of Nations. Carl Heath, from the London Committee of European Relief, tells the crowd, "Any of you who do feel a 'concern'...will be preparing to help in the next world war," prophetic words to a shocked gathering who hoped that the war to end all wars had just ended. The chapter closes with the couple deciding to go to Greece.

Aside: Since the book is out of print, I picked up a used copy that had been a gift from Aletheia Pattison to one of her family members. Her obituary was pasted on the inside cover (shown below). It was in this chapter that Joice describes meeting Pattison (spelling her name Alethia) "along the Russian frontier." Despite lavishing praise on Pattison and saying, "She was always most generous in giving help where her interest was roused, and is one of the few friends left with whom I have had constant contact down through the years," there must have been something in Joice's account of their meeting that rubbed Pattison the wrong way. Most of one sentence is inked over and remarks are scribbled in the margin. It's just one of the fun finds from used books.

A Fringe of Blue: Australian Prelude 1893 - 1917

Loch, J. N. K. (1968). A fringe of blue: An autobiography. New York: Morrow.

Related posts

• A Fringe of Blue: A Fringe of Blue 1918 - 23

I'm hoping this marks the end of the blog's hiatus. Things have been... challenging. But I've really missed posting here and being part of the online book community. I thought what better way to start things off than with a couple of out-of-print books? Yeah, that's the spirit. Evidently it's in my blood.

The first book is A Fringe of Blue, the autobiography of Joice Nankivell Loch. While there are several outstanding events in her life, her role in saving hundreds of Polish and Jewish children during World War II and later running a refugee camp for Poles should have kept her from being a forgotten heroine. Hopefully her exploits and the altruism of her and her husband will reach a wider audience.

The first section of her autobiography recounts Joice's memories of growing up, mostly in Australian bush country, to her brother's death near the end of World War I. She describes the hardships of growing up in the bush country, explaining, "Only lion-hearted women could exist on an Australian farm in those days." (52) As she mentions several times, she thinks her mother survived simply to make sure her kids survived. Plus, her mother probably had it rougher than most women since Joice's father repeatedly gambled on buying farms unseen (usually with help from family members), only to find them completely unworkable. Even though describing very difficult circumstances, Joice's love of family, friends, and setting when growing up shines through. When she or her brother get into trouble, the ready-made excuse given is that they are essentially uncontrollable "bush children."

Her family was once the wealthiest in the country with sugar-cane farms, but their wealth ended once "Blackbirding" was stopped with the passage of the White Australian Bill, abolishing the press-ganging of Kanaka laborers. Her early life expresses a fearless love of nature shared with her brother Geoff. The pair seem afraid of nothing and were always getting into scrapes, but she had no illusions regarding the dual powers of nature that she so adored: "Kill, kill, kill. All nature killing and struggling. The very rain running down immense trees drowned while it brought life." (19) Along with her love of animals and nature was a fierce adoration of books, taking advantage of well-stocked libraries whenever she had a chance. Around the age of thirteen, Joice began her relationship with Miss Rowland, a woman who "could have inspired a log of wood to learn, and she had a knowledge of world affairs second to none, so that later when I worked in distant countries I was never much at a loss. She grounded me on a sound basis to be neighborly." (36)

Her willingness to sympathize with and understand others shines through in her writing, as does her wit and charm. Her ability to tell a tale, whether it's of her youthful mischief or stories she heard, such as an aboriginal tale on the origin of the platypus, makes the book a fun read. My favorite story in this section is how Australia's capital got its name:

Mr. Macdonald, the oldest living Australian explorer in my youth, was a friend. The last of the giants. He lived with the blacks [aborigines] for years in order to study them and to compile a dictionary of the various dialects. At that time he was the only authority on the subject. ...

[Discussion about the movement for deciding a federal capital]

The present site was hurriedly chosen in a final glorious weekend. It had been visited many times before. A Royal Decree was drawn up, then came a pause, until someone suggested that the place be given a name. A 'native' name was demanded. Why call the federal capital after a defunct statesman of another country?

"For God's sake," wrote one man in the press, "have a name that is truly Australian."

A long weekend was spent on the site in quest of the name, and the oldest black, chief of a local tribe, was called in.

"What place?" he was asked. He looked puzzled and rubbed one bare foot over the other. There was much pointing to the ground, then, through the help of a local drover who knew the tribe, light dawned on him:

"Canberra," he said.

He was asked again, and with much more confidence, for he saw everyone was delighted. He repeated: "Canberra."

They broke a bottle of champagne over the thirsty earth and the black and they drank a lot more, shouting:

"Canberra!"

The name was added to the Royal Decree and in due course received the royal signature, and everyone was satisfied, until Mr. MacDonald pointed out that there was no such word.

A final picnic was called, and Mr. MacDonald was at it.

The oldest black with his drover friend was produced. They stood on the same hill, and pointed to the same ground:

"Canberra!" said the black.

Mr. Macdonald chuckled, the chuckle became a guffaw.

"He know no other English!" he gasped, "he means a 'can of beer'! And really when you see the litter of bottles you can't blame him!" If there was consternation before, there was a rout now. The name of the federal capital, proclaimed before the whole world, literally meant a can of beer. They looked bitterly at the ground which was littered with the empties of many a picnic, and went home licking their wounds. None had the courage to admit what had happened or to suggest a change of name. They felt they would be the laughing-stock of Australia. The press dropped the subject, and the incident closed—after all it is a good enough name. (46-7)

Not quite the story you normally read about the origin of the capital's name. Joice began publishing her poetry and writing a column for a paper. She moved to Melbourne and immersed herself in the literary societies and the theater. World War One started, "[W]ith the heedless slaughter of the young of my generation. We were drenched with blood from which we were never to be clean again." (53) The section ends with her recounting the death of her brother near the end of the war, an event where she and her mother experienced presentiments. While she doesn't say much about Geoff's death, she made it clear in the previous pages how close they were and how much they meant to each other. The next section, "A Fringe of Blue," follows Joice to (among other places) England, Ireland, and Poland.

The Death of Caesar by Barry Strauss

The Death of Caesar by Barry Strauss
Simon & Schuster, 323 pages, $27

I'm rushing through this post since I want to post it on the Ides of March (and I just finished the book)...

Barry Strauss, professor of history and classics at Cornell University, has provided an insightful study of the actions, motivations, and fallout of the murder of Julius Caesar, "history's most famous assassination," as the book's subtitle puts it. One of the most intriguing features of Julius Caesar's assassination that Strauss investigates is how so many people around the ruler with varying backgrounds—friends and enemies, beneficiaries and slighted, and family members—formed an alliance to commit such a high-profile murder. The plotters may have provided heroic rationales and excuses but it becomes clear there were plenty of self-interested reasons. Strauss stresses the importance of Decimus (Decimus Junius Brutus Albinus) as one of the principle conspirators along with Brutus and Cassius. In addition to persuading Caesar to attend the Senate meeting on the Ides of March 44 B.C., Decimus provided gladiators as (apparent) guards for Caesar, but would in reality prove to be the assassins' bodyguards. Decimus was quickly demonized and then largely dismissed or forgotten by later generations of history writers. The allegiances between the principle characters, including Caesar, his supporters, and his detractors, tends to be extremely fluid. As becomes abundantly clear, "For the Romans, as for most people, principle and profit were inseparable." For many of the principle characters, you could add the importance of dignity as well. What motivated the conspirators will remain conjecture, but Strauss delves into many aspects of their lives and the political climate in Rome, finding interesting tidbit feeding into a broad, swirling pattern. Interestingly enough, as Seneca would later put it, there were more friends of Caesar conspiring to kill him than enemies.

While covering earlier and later events, the book focuses on the time period starting with the return of Julius Caesar to Rome in August 45 B.C. after the Battle of Munda in Hispania and goes through the deaths of the main conspirators, ending with the suicide of Antony and the ascension of Octavian to Augustus. There were major changes in Rome between August 45 and February 44 B.C., when the assassination plot probably began. These events affected both the conspirators personal beliefs, reacting to what they were seeing unfolding, as well as the overall political outlook of the public. Several changes would highlight contradictions in what Romans professed and how they acted, while other events coincided with the claims of protecting the Roman Republic from a tyrant.

Many of the conspirators seemed to truly want peace, hoping that things would quickly return to normal (or at least what they hoped to be a new normal) after the assassination, acknowledging they would need to wage a public relations battle in addition to the actual murder. Many of their actions seem to bank on the public's desire for peace, or at least their weariness over the (mostly) finished civil war. One of the strong points of the book is the almost hour-by-hour recounting of the events during the Ides of March, covering many topics to make the events come alive: what type of daggers were used, what it would take to drive them into the body of a man, the palpable fear present in Rome at the time, the confusion in the close-quartered commotion following the murder, and the assassins' trek afterwards.

The Death of Caesar by Jean-Léon Gérôme
Picture source at Wikipedia
(Strauss goes into detail about some items Gérôme got right and what he got wrong)

Once Caesar was dead, the conspirators hoped to rally support for their cause and have the Senate take control of the Republic. One important consideration that the conspirators didn't fully appreciate was the presence of numerous soldiers and veterans inside and just outside Rome. Most of them were about to head out to assignments or their new properties, but their loyalty would be a major issue. The misreading by some of the conspirators of what it would take to earn/buy the soldiers' loyalty closed a brief window of opportunity, although to win such support was paradoxical to their stated aims. Buying off the soldiers for their support would raise the specter of a military dictatorship they claimed to be fighting.

Caesar was dead but Caesarism lived on. That was the secret of Roman politics that was revealed in the third week of March 44 B.C. The Senate still met and issued decrees. The people still commanded enough respect that the magistrates courted them in public speeches. Yet, in the final analysis, it was Caesar's veterans converging on Rome with their weapons who had the last say. They might have forgotten their loyalty to Caesar if the assassins had paid them a bonus or increased their land allotments, but the assassins offered too little to win their trust.

Killing Caesar would have only been the first step in defeating Caesarism. But in order to defend the Republic an army was needed, a paradox that may have doomed the conspirators' stated goals from the start. The conspirators started a revolution, whether they realized it or not, and (as Strauss puts it) moderation has no practical place in such a situation. Caesar had his finger on the pulse of Rome, understanding its violent nature and harnessed it for a while. The winner of the fallout from Caesar's murder, as Strauss shows so well, would be those that could likewise harness or tame that violent nature as needed.

I enjoyed the book and how Strauss presented and paced the story, alternating between different points of view and introducing characters, relationships, events, etc. as appropriate. I found myself unable to put it down at times, wanting to see what would happen even though I already knew exactly what was coming. The book has several things I find useful in such historical recounting, notably a cast of characters section and several well-done maps. Something I look forward to delving into more is the "Notes on the Sources" section, particularly the "ancient sources" notes. During the book Strauss does a wonderful job of laying out these sources, discussing their biases, and lining up where they agree with or differ from one another. One source Strauss stresses is that of Nicolaus of Damascus,

who sometimes offers Augusts's version of event. As [Mark] Toher argues, Nicolaus was a student of the writings of Aristotle and Thucydides, two of the ancient world's finest minds when it comes to political analysis. I am convinced that Nicolaus offers information essential to making sense of the assassination.

The story of Caesar's assassination turns out to be a fantastical epic, and Strauss removes much of the fog from later presentations (including Shakespeare's play) to try and understand what exactly happened and why things happened as they did. He provides a short section musing on whether or not the Republic could have been saved. Strauss believes it could have, but what would have had to happen seems like a long, improbable list contradicting much of what he presented earlier. But then these were monumental, improbable times with events unfolding on a grand scale. Who could put a limit on what was and wasn't possible during these events? Extremely well done and thoroughly enjoyable. Very highly recommended.

Links:

• The first chapter can be found in this Flavorwire article
• Strauss' article at George Mason University's History News Network on "Things Shakespeare Got Wrong About the Ides of March"
• Strauss' article at biography.com about "Five Women Who Played a Role in Caesar’s Murder"
• An interview with Strauss at Ancient History's Et Cetra blog
• The publisher's page has several videos related to the book

Silver denarius of Marcus Junius Brutus
Picture source at The British Museum
About the coin shown above:

Writing centuries later, Dio offers an identification of the two military daggers, making this one of the few coins mentioned by an ancient writer:

In addition to these activities, Brutus stamped upon the coins which were being minted in his own likeness with a cap and two daggers, indicating by this and by the inscription that he and Cassius had liberated the fatherland."

In short, the two military daggers are meant to represent the weapons used by the two leaders of the anti-Caesar movement on the Ides of March. Even for a gathering of soldiers, this was blunt.

... [T]hrough imagery this coin argues that the Ides of March was an honorable act carried out by the tools of Roman soldiers, as the military daggers show. It was an act not of murder but of liberation, as the freed-slave's cap shows.

Rebel Yell: The Violence, Passion, and Redemption of Stonewall Jackson by S. C. Gwynne

Rebel Yell: The Violence, Passion, and Redemption of Stonewall Jackson by S. C. Gwynne
ISBN: 978-1451673289
(Scribner, 2014, hardcover)

It is a matter of record that, a mere fourteen months earlier [than June 1862], the man everyone from Charlottesville to Washington was so breathlessly concerned about had been an obscure, eccentric, and unpopular college professor in a small town in rural Virginia. He had odd habits, a strangely silent manner, a host of health problems, and was thought by almost everyone who knew him to be lacking in even the most basic skills of leadership. To call him a failure is probably too harsh. He just wasn’t very good at anything; he was part of that great undifferentiated mass of second-rate humanity who weren’t going anywhere in life. And yet on that bright June [1862] day in Charlottesville the oddball science teacher had just completed a military campaign in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley that made him the most famous military figure in the Western world. In a matter of months he had undergone a transformation of such speed and magnitude that it stood out in a war that made a specialty of such changes. … In a war where the techniques of marching and fighting were being reinvented almost literally hour by hour, Jackson’s intelligence, speed, aggression, and pure arrogance were the wonders of North and South alike. They were the talk of salons in London and Paris. (6-7)

It's rare when a book sneaks up on me and take me by surprise (in a good way), but this one did. S. C. Gwynne is upfront about this book being a selective biography of Thomas Jonathan “Stonewall” Jackson. Admitting it is not a “full-scale, A-to-Z biography,” Gwynne chooses facts, stories, and analysis that best illuminates his subject instead of providing a comprehensive report. Gwynne focuses mostly on the two years of Jackson's operations in the U.S. Civil War, but he also flashes back to early events in Jackson's life in order to provide perspective and context. Rebel Yell reads like a tale told by a master story-teller…I can almost hear a southern drawl while I'm reading it.

So who was Stonewall Jackson? To say he was a host of contradictions would be an understatement. When the war started he was recognized as an incompetent science teacher at the Virginia Military Institute. Six years before the Civil War started the school’s alumni tried to have him fired. He was orphaned at age seven, raised by family members, and received a cursory childhood education. Through sheer luck and granite resolve, he was accepted into West Point at the bottom of his class. He was socially awkward, his attempts at public speaking usually painful to watch. He had a host of physical ailments that added to his awkwardness. He was deeply religious. He had trouble with authority, especially if it was critical of him. He rarely shared his thoughts or plans with anyone. Gwynne describes him as a “comfortable mediocrity.” When the Civil War started he was all but ignored by the Confederacy government. These popular descriptions of Jackson only tells part of his story, though.

Concealed behind this carefully constructed social front was a layered, highly complex, passionate, deeply sensitive man who loved deeply and grieved deeply. He had a poetic heart, and a nineteenth-century romantic’s embrace of beauty of nature. He loved Shakespeare and European architecture. He was self-taught and completely fluent in Spanish; he was a devoted and talented gardener; and he read widely in world history and military history and reveled in travel. He had an ecstatic, almost mystical sense of God. He loved walking in the country around Lexington, gloried in sunsets and mountain views and in the blooming Shenandoah spring. He was a man who could laugh uproariously, and roll around on the floor in play with a child, speaking Spanish baby talk, a man who kept close track of news and gossip inside his large, extended family. He was a doting, affectionate, and passionate husband who, behind closed doors, had an expansive and often joyous personality. (135)

Jackson served in the Mexican-American War, receiving praise from his commanding general. Like others who had experienced war he hoped to avoid secession and the conflict he knew would follow. The unconcern voiced by others when talking of wars pained him greatly. As Gwynne puts it, Jackson understood war “at some primal, visceral level that escaped almost everyone else.” (17) Jackson’s volatile mix of beliefs would ensure that he would give his unquestioning loyalty to the state of Virginia, willing to do whatever it took to defend it. His reasoning followed his religious outlook: outcomes rested in the hands of God and Jackson was one of God’s instruments in making what was going to happen happen.

Jackson understood from the beginning what it would take to win—total war, taking the fight directly to the Union. Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederacy, believed that holding land and taking a defensive posture would be the key to outlasting the Union. Jackson was outstanding at the Battle of First Manassas (First Bull Run), receiving his nickname during the fight. Also noteworthy during the battle was the first rebel yell, which Jackson initiated by telling his men to scream like Furies.

Jackson was promoted and given command of the Shenandoah Valley district. It was here that Jackson earned his warrior reputation. He marched his men farther and faster than anyone expected. He successfully coordinated attacks. His tactics were aggressive and surprising. He inspired his men to do the impossible and instilled fear in his enemies. Undermanned and outnumbered, he delayed the Union's plans to attack Richmond.

I've always been fascinated by the military genius from apparent misfits like Jackson, Ulysses S. Grant, and William T. Sherman. Gwynne spends time examining why that was, in particular for Jackson. His brilliance wasn’t just in his ability to perceive what others couldn’t, although that definitely was part of it. He understood the need to wage a pitiless war in order to succeed and he was ready to take command to insure it happened. In contrast to other leaders during the war, Jackson excelled at making command decisions, willing to be held accountable for them. Combined with his daring, this meant that his badly outnumbered and ill-supplied troops would have their way against timid Union generals. Not that the opposing troops were reticent or fearful—far from it—but those men were ill-served by their early generals. Gwynne makes an excellent point on the difficulty in distinguishing between failure and success in Civil War battles before they were finished:

Though he [Union General Burnisde] has gone down in history as an incompetent field commander for his tactics at Fredericksburg, in fact there was often a fine line in the Civil War between tenacity and foolishness. At Gaines’s Mill, Lee spent more than five hours assaulting uphill against a phenomenally strong Federal position, and lost nearly 8,000 men in the process. Yet because his final charges, by Hood in particular, won the day, the battle is remembered as a glorious victory. Because Burnside sacrificed all those men in a losing cause, he is often seen as inept and mindlessly obstinate. (501-2)

This was not a war that was going to be won by conventional thinking and Jackson was gifted at being unconventional. He caused panic for Union generals, causing them to imagine phantom forces were constantly threatening them. While they weren't completely wrong, they were often mistaken about when, where, and how Jackson's forces would be deployed. After the Battle of Winchester in May 1862, Jackson’s reputation reached mythical proportions. He was a seemingly invincible warrior that the Confederacy desperately needed to sustain their dreams and support their cause.

Jackson’s contradictions seemed to grow with his fame. He tried to destroy men’s careers because of insubordination, yet he was willing to defy orders when he thought it best. If Jackson had to answer to himself he would have been court-martialed. After working independently in the Valley Campaign, Jackson was fortunate to have Robert E. Lee appointed as commanding general of the Confederacy. Despite many differences between the two men, they worked extremely well together. Jackson and his men were transferred from the Shenandoah Valley to assist in the defense of Richmond. Although he had a rough start, not seeming to live up to his reputation (and Gwynne does an excellent job of putting the disappointment of Jackson during the Seven Days Campaign into perspective), Jackson began to exceed the elevated expectations placed on him. As Gwynne puts it, when Jackson was moving from the Shenandoah Valley to Richmond’s defense in June 1862,

How could one dusty, disheveled major general and 18,500 ragged troops possibly live up to such outlandish expectations? That is one of the most intriguing questions of the war. Because Jackson, against all odds, did. He fulfilled all of his countrymen’s most wildly optimistic and absurdly unrealistic expectations of him, and he did it before summer’s end. It is a matter of record that, mainly on the strength of Lee’s daring and Jackson’s astounding maneuvers, within two months the capital being threatened was no longer Richmond but Washington, DC, a city into which the defeated Union army beat a humiliating retreat—the greatest military disaster of the war to date. (359-60)

After his mediocre showing during the Seven Days Campaigns, Jackson reeled off a string of brilliant successes at the Battles of Second Manassas, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville. Jackson accurately took the measure of the men he faced and took advantage of any timidity. Lee and Jackson's respectful relationship stood in stark contrast to the Union’s command marked by arrogance, jealousy, and hatred of each other. Gwynne examines the fame Jackson received because of his success. Although Jackson found the fame gratifying, he battled it “with a combination of flight and prayer.” (486) Gwynne also examines Jackson’s insistence on fostering religion in the Confederate army. Once again, though, this stands in stark contrast to other features of Jackson. I found this exchange after the Battle of Fredericksburg particularly chilling:

On the way back to headquarters Jackson, riding now with [surgeon Hunter] McGuire and [aide James Power] Smith, said nothing until they neared their camp, when he suddenly said, “How horrible is war.”

“Horrible, yes,” McGuire replied. “But we have been invaded. What can we do?”

“Kill them, sir,” Jackson said. “Kill every man.” (503)

All of Jackson’s accomplishments led up to the brilliant tactics at Chancellorsville drawn up with Lee (with Jackson calling an audible on major parts) that insured victory over the Union’s superior numbers and excellent defensive position. Jackson demonstrated how he had earned his reputation with his audacious and demanding tactics. Though he faced worthier Union generals now, his reputation reached almost mythical levels for several additional reasons.

Jackson by this point in his meteoric and still ascendant career cast a large shadow, far larger than the sum of his flesh-and-blood parts. There was something fateful about him, something fore-ordained, as though he had been born to occupy precisely this moment in time and space, as though his strange and mystical communion with God had granted him special power over both his own men and his enemies. His personal oddities now fueled the legend. Though James Longstreet was a good general and a resolute fighter, he was a prosaic and somewhat colorless human being. Jackson, by contrast—remote, silent, eccentric, and reserved, his hand raised in prayer in the heat of battle—suggested darkness and mystery and magic. Longstreet inspired respect; Jackson, fear and awe. (527)

Picture source

Some of Jackson’s traits would lead to his death, particularly his reticence at sharing information and his determination to press an advantage, often beyond logic. Shot by his own troops while examining their position in relation to the enemy, his left arm was amputated a week before he died (please check out the three-part story about Jackson’s arm at the Mysteries and Conundrums blog).

Gwynne spends some time explaining what I originally found a bold claim, that Jackson’s death “triggered the first national outpouring of grief for a fallen leader in the country’s history.” (556) I don’t know enough to accurately assess the claim, but Gwynne makes a compelling case.

I don’t believe you need to be extremely well versed in the U.S. Civil War history to fully appreciate and benefit from Gwynne’s book, although the more you know about it the better. For example, battles and events outside of Jackson's involvement (or indirectly affecting him) are only briefly mentioned. As I mentioned earlier, though, Gwynne makes it clear that the focus is on capturing the essence of Jackson, which means trying to understand the apparent transformation (or as he calls it in the title, the redemption) Jackson underwent. Even though I basically knew large parts of the relevant history, I still found myself enthralled, wanting to continue turning the pages to find out more about this fascinating character. Gwynne brings his subject to life and his battle descriptions are marvels of detail and action. Gwynne does a masterful job of exploring Jackson's many contradictions, objectively trying to understand both his successes and his failures. Very highly recommended.

Related posts:

• Stonewall Jackson in poetry, specifically in pieces by Stephen Vincent Benét, Herman Melville, and John Greenleaf Whittier
• “Stonewall Jackson’s Way”: a popular Civil War song
• My (selective) notes on the book

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If you aren’t planning on reading the book but are interested in the subject, see Gwynne’s interview with C-SPAN. In the thirty-three minute interview Gwynne covers many of the major points of the book. At the risk of repeating myself, here are a few of his talking points:

• Jackson excelled at maneuvering—getting his troops exactly where they needed to be exactly when they was needed. [Lee excelled at this, too, which made their pairing that much more remarkable.] Jackson also had the ability to get his troops to do remarkable things.
  
• You can’t understand Jackson without understanding the role of religion in his life.
  
“Command” is what transformed men during the war. Braggarts turn into cowards because they couldn’t command. Jackson and Grant became who they did because they could command. As Gwynne uses it, “command” means the ability to make a command decision and be willing to be held accountable about it. With this gift of command, Jackson didn’t have to be the most charismatic man or the most gifted speaker.

• Gwynne reinforces a comment from his book: “Jackson’s death was the first great outpouring of national grief for a fallen leader.” This demonstration was eclipsed two years later with death of Lincoln. Gwynne acknowledges its an unconventional view, but (in the book) he outlines his argument.
  
• Jackson is fascinating, but that doesn’t guarantee sustained interest. The interest in him survives because:
  - he was the ultimate underdog ,both the man and his side,
  - he had a brilliant military mind,
  - “flawed” geniuses make for engaging stories, and
  - his redemption (from the title): not just a religious meaning, but he overcame his many limitations.

Also, Gwynne has a fun piece at Biographile titled ‘Never Take Counsel of Fear’: Leadership Lessons from Stonewall Jackson.

Update (15 March 2015): Another clip of Gwynne talking about the book, also at C-Span's Book TV. "S.C. Gwynne, author of Rebel Yell: The Violence, Passion, and Redemption of Stonewall Jackson, talked about his book and responded to viewer questions and comments. He was interviewed at the 2015 Tucson Festival of Books, held on March 14-15 on the campus of the University of Arizona."

Dying Every Day: Seneca at the Court of Nero by James Romm

Dying Every Day: Seneca at the Court of Nero by James Romm
Alfred A. Knopf (March 2014)
ISBN: 978-0-307-59687-1

Seneca was born in 4 B.C. on the Iberian peninsula to the son of a accomplished rhetorician (Seneca the Elder). The young Seneca moved to Rome to study rhetoric and was introduced to Stoic philosophy. Entering politics he rose to the rank of Consul but ran afoul with Caligula. Banished to Corsica under Claudius (at the bidding of Claudius’ third wife Messalina), Seneca eventually returned to Rome to tutor the future emporer Nero, Claudius’ fourth wife’s (Agrippina’s) son. His writings include philosophical essays and letters along with chilling tragedies. Seneca became a close adviser to Nero on the emperor’s ascension to the throne. Nero spiraled out of control and Seneca was implicated in a plot to assassinate the emperor. Seneca committed suicide in 65 A.D. at Nero’s request.

How should we view Seneca? James Romm opens his book with divergent possibilities passed down through history: a Stoic philosopher, doing his best to minimize the actions of a deranged emperor, or maybe an opportunistic manipulator, enriching himself at others’ expense while hypocritically preaching virtue and ethics. Maybe a truer course in evaluating him lies somewhere between these two extremes, where “Seneca merely got more adept at weaving his opportunistic stratagems into the weft of his philosophic discourse” (page 217, footnote to page 14)

The debate ofver the appropriate view of Seneca began in his own lifetime and included some of Rome’s most famous early historians, adding to the difficulty in uncovering a “real” Seneca. Cassius Dio, relying on writers close to Seneca’s own time, paints a negative picture in his Roman History. The anonymous writer of the play Octavia (written around 70 A.D.) emphasizes Senca’s role as Stoic philosopher. The Annals of Tacitus walks between those two extremes, providing an ambiguous account of Seneca. As Romm puts it, “Seneca posed a riddle he [Tacitus] could not solve.”

There are two terms describing Senca that were used during or just after his lifetime, capturing the difficulty in a conclusive evaluation. On one hand Seneca is described by an ancient Greek term, tyrannodidasklalos (“tyrant teacher”), emphasizing his role as tutor to Nero, an emperor obsequiously lauded when he became emperor but eventually spun out of control. Pliny the Elder, though, provides the description princeps eruditorum (“princeps of the wise”), a wry phrase that may contain layers of irony.

While in exile Seneca wrote about how much he enjoyed his life in Corsica:

Why would any devoted Stoic, having found a paradise of Reason beneath a benign firmament, ever return to the cesspool [he] called Rome? The question goes to the heart of the enigma of Seneca’s life. Seneca’s friends and supporters recognized its importance, for the suggested, in the play Octavia, and elsewhere, that his return to Rome from Corsica, eight years after leaving the city, was not voluntary. But Seneca gives them the lie in his own writings. In a second open letter from exile, probably written a year or two after the first, Seneca showed, obliquely but urgently, that he was desperate to be recalled by the emperor Claudius. (28)

There are plenty of great characters around Seneca that come to life in Romm’s account. Central to the story is Nero, becoming emperor as a teen but lacking anything resembling a moral compass. Nero’s mother Agrippina viewed anything deviating from her plans, including Nero’s sexual partners, as subversive. There’s the dissent of Thrasea Paetus, a curmudgeonly senator who made a persistent show of not supporting Nero. Seneca found himself in the center of a scheming, violent world, where his guilt by association (and likely more) is probable in several murders carried out by or for the emperor. Just reading Seneca’s transparent lies in support of Nero leaves a bitter taste that could (and probably should) taint all judgment on his writings.

To partially mitigate some of that harsh judgment, Romm provides details on the nature of political power in Seneca’s time. The line of emperors had been hereditary (or some convoluted version) down to Nero. Regime change was extremely unlikely, carrying a high price for unsuccessful attempts, while simply mentioning it could prove an unhealthy exercise to the writer, his family, etc. In addition to these circumstances, what tied Seneca to Nero? Romm highlights how members of Seneca’s family were dependent on Nero's good graces, providing something akin to a hostage situation. There was the wealth that Seneca amassed since his return from banishment. It’s possible that Seneca believed he could soften Nero’s rule, avoiding situations that would be far worse without him as an adviser. There’s evidence that Seneca may have tried to escape from Nero’s court, or at least reduce his role. Unfortunately the moral stature that landed Seneca his job as Nero’s tutor kept him chained to Nero’s rule to provide legitimacy. Romm stresses the fateful return from exile, a decision that determined the remainder of Seneca’s life. Seneca revisited that decision, directly or obliquely, in his writings, most powerfully in his drama Thyestes.

Romm explores the two worlds of Seneca, political and philosophical, and admits he is unable to reconcile the “two Senecas together into a single personality.” While slightly emphasizing the political angle, Romm stresses the equality of the two worlds. A major focus of the book is to place Seneca’s work in a historical context, understanding what was going on politically at the (estimated) time of a work’s writing as well as what was happening in Seneca’s personal life. In evaluating any writer's work there is a question of how much of their personal life to attribute to the text, and Seneca’s writings raise the same issue. An additional drawback to this approach is the uncertainty of the timing of most of Seneca's work, so if Romm is wrong in his estimation then much of what follows could be called into question.

Romm stresses the need to read Seneca’s philosophical writings and his tragedies as a whole, even though they "inhabit two nearly opposite moral universes at the same time." (76) Despite the differences between the two forms—the tragedies contain plenty of despair and nihilism while his philosophical prose works are optimistic about humanity (linking piety, reason, and the gods)—they need to be evaluated together to provide a clearer picture of the writer.

Romm walks a fine line in the book by evaluating many of Seneca's writings as playing a "double game," which would "expound his Stoic ideals and improve his political image." (54) He makes it clear that Seneca's work should NOT be read for coded messages or ulterior motives, rather that his works have dual purposes and should be read accordingly. I have put together a summary of what I got from Romm's text on these dual purposes in some of Seneca's works (and added a few things I found strange about these works).

If you get turned around in following the Julio-Claudian family tree (as I do), Romm does a good job of describing the intricacies and importance of the relationships. Fortunately there are some helpful graphics available online, such as this one, to help keep things straight. It would have been nice to have something similar in the book, pared down for the principle characters and lines mentioned.

Romm’s writing (as in Ghost on the Throne: The Death of Alexander the Great and the War for Crown and Empire) is fast-paced and easy to follow. The question that lurked in the back of my mind while reading this, though, was who is this book written for (besides my obvious interest)? In focusing on Seneca’s careers and his writings in particular, the reader gets plenty of historical background on the author and Nero, but the book isn’t a biography of either man nor a complete history of Rome during this period. Romm stresses this point in advance. His focus is on reconciling the two sides of Seneca, a task he admits may be impossible. For someone that knows little or nothing about Seneca and wants to read his work, this book provides one way *how* to read him and what to look for in addition to the standard introductory summaries of his works. For anyone more familiar with the writer or the times, it would still provide a good overview on the arguments of how to view Seneca and his writings.

Romm explains how he arrives at many of his opinions given the many contradictory facts and opinions about Seneca. He doesn’t shy away from providing competing positions either…be sure to read the footnotes for some interesting places to dig deeper for various viewpoints. Romm may feel he has failed at unifying the two sides of Seneca, but he has succeeded in highlighting the human nature of Seneca and what that meant for both the courtier and the writer. Highly recommended.

The Volga Rises in Europe by Curzio Malaparte

The Volga Rises in Europe by Curzio Malaparte
Translated by David Moore
Birlinn Limited: Edinburgh (1951)
ISBN 0-7394-1930-7

I enjoyed Curzio Malaparte’s novel Kaputt and his recently translated writings. When I stumbled across this collection of dispatches he wrote during World War II I grabbed it without a second thought, wanting to see some examples of his journalistic writing. This book made my list of favorite favorite 2013 reads that are out of print. (Yeah, I’m just now getting around to a write-up on it.)

During the summer of 1941 Malaparte was a front-line correspondent (supposedly the only one) following the Germans into the Soviet Union through the Ukraine front. By September 1941 he was expelled at the Germans’ request and spent four months under house arrest in Italy. Malaparte was released to cover events in Finland and starting in March 1942 he was allowed to tag along with Finnish troops during the siege of Leningrad, where he stayed for almost a year. In his dispatches from these two fronts, Malaparte writes in a style and with tropes that readers of Kaputt will recognize. His stated desire in his writing is to uncover deeper significance in moral, social, and political forces shaping the conflict.

Malaparte adds a Forward, written about a decade later, that provides some information on what he hoped to accomplish, with some notes of triumphalism:

I record these facts not out of vanity but in order to emphasize what the Anglo-American press itself freely admitted at the time—namely, that the only objective writing on the German war against Russia came from an Italian and that, unlike the British and American correspondents, citizens of free, democratic countries, I did not undertake to describe events of which I had no first-hand knowledge, nor did I stoop to make propaganda in favour of one side or the other. Apart from the fact that I was the only front-line war-correspondent in the whole of the U.S.S.R., and hence the only one in a position to see how matters really stood, I should mention that my long-standing acquaintance with Soviet Russia and her problems helped me greatly to asses the significance of events and to foresee the inevitable course of their development. (11)

Malaparte's dispatches support his claim that he recognized there was a large social and political component of the war. He examines German, Finnish, and Soviet troops, analyzing what made them tenacious and effective while investigating and highlighting major differences. Because of these additional components, Malaparte notes in his dispatches that he believes this wouldn’t be an ordinary war and therefore would need a different type of observer, one he would try be. Some of his dispatches were censored, but fortunately the excised passages have been restored here. A note on Malaparte—he seems to have worn his Italian uniform while at both fronts and revels in the curiosity it generates and the novelty of it. This is type of writer the reader has to deal with over the course of these articles.

For anyone acquainted with Kaputt, there are moments in the first dispatch, “The Crows of Galatz,” you will find familiar in style and substance:

• ”The imminent war is perceived as a storm that is about to break, as something independent of man’s will, almost as a fact of nature.”(21)
• ”The funereal birds caw sadly from the rooftops. … All of a sudden something falls from the sky on to the pavement, right into the midst of the crowd of pedestrians. No one stops, no one looks round. I walk over to the object and inspect it. It is a piece of rotting flesh, which a crow has dropped from its beak.”(25)

As Malaparte crosses into the Ukraine with the Germans, he respects their work ethic and the way they approach the technical aspects of their tasks, as if they viewed war as just another job:

They reveal the same indifference to everything that is unconnected with their work. It occurs to me that perhaps the peculiarly technical character of this war is leaving its mark on the combatants. Rather than soldiers intent on fighting they look like artisans at work, like mechanics busying themselves about a complex, delicate machine. They bend over a machine-gun and press the trigger, they manipulate the gleaming breech-plug of a field-gun, they grasp the double handle of an anti-aircraft weapon with the same delicate gaucherie, or rather with the same rude dexterity as they reveal when they tighten a nut, or when, with the palm of the hand, or merely with two fingers, they control the vibrations of a cylinder, the play of a larte screw, the pressure of a valve. They climb on to the turrets of their tanks as if they were clambering up the iron ladder of a turbine, a dynamo, or a boiler. Yes, indeed—they look more like artisans at work than soldiers at war. (33)

Malaparte admires the Germans “streamlined efficiency” in their attitude and work, imbuing their actions with a belief that the is watching an “expression of a humanity no longer founded on sentiment alone, but on a moral principle rooted in technology.” (49) Consistent with the work-like approach of this war he notes that death took on the aspects of an industrial accident, where machines are expendable but human life was to be protected by a scientific method of waging war. He was impressed with the constant move forward into Soviet territory, but he recognized early on that advancement did not guarantee victory.

Malaparte was clearly enamored with the Soviet troops he saw although most of that contact came from his experience in Russia before the war and the Soviet prisoners he saw. He often remarks on the fundamental changes in the countryside from an agricultural basis to an industrial society, which he believes is reflected in their organization and fighting. While noting that the Soviets will not be easy enemies to subdue, he also notes the inferiority of their equipment. The Germans note that the Soviet troops were the best soldiers they had encountered to date, especially admiring their calm tenacity. There are plenty of other dynamics at work on the Soviet side, starting with the political aspect: "The fact that the Russian troops are accompanied by numerous political agents reflects the Soviet Government’s preoccupation with the necessity of exercising a political control over the conduct of the war and of spreading propaganda urging the peasant to resort to “agricultural sabotage” as a weapon against the invaders." (95) The politics are also reflected in what is left behind during the Soviet retreat, such as the collection of records including a 24-record set of Stalin’s speech at the proclamation of the 1936 Soviet Constitution. As the Germans move through the villages, Malaparte notes a generational gap in the Soviets. Anyone younger than 30 only had experience with the Communist government while older peasants remembered how things had been before World War I and the civil war. This gap has practical applications as reflected in the moving dispatch “God Returns to his House,” where elderly peasants in a village celebrate the retreat of the Soviets by restoring a former church, used for the past twenty years as a barn, to its former purpose and glory. At the end of the day, though, their work has been overturned by a German officer when he orders the building to be used as a stable.

When the German troops reach the Dniester River, they encounter the Stalin Line of fortifications. It’s at this point Malaparte notes that a different face of the war begins, turning from a war of machines and returning to “an old-fashioned war of infantry battalions, of gun-batteries drawn by horses.” (84) It's at the siege of Leningrad, where Malaparte embeds with the Finnish troops around the city, that he really sees a valid comparison with World War I (which he fought in). I’m going to provide a lengthy excerpt to give a better feel of Malaparte’s ability to turn possibly boring, technical aspects into a compelling (and sometimes overly melodramatic) comparison:

But the thing that gives this familiar scene of trench-warfare a singular importance, an extraordinarily new and unexpected meaning, is the background against which it is set. No longer, as in the other war, is it a background of rugged, broken hills, of trees reduced to skeletons by gunfire, of shell-torn plains traversed in all directions by a maze of trenches, of ruined houses, standing alone amid meadows and bare fields littered with steel helmets, smashed rifles, haversacks, machine-gun belts: the usual dreary, miserable scene which opened up behind the trenches on every front in the first World War. This, by contrast, is a background of factories, houses, and suburban streets, a background which, viewed through the telescope, assumes the likeness of a gigantic wall of white glass-and-concrete façades, the likeness of an immense barrier—it is the plain buried beneath a carpet of snow that suggests the image—an immense barrier of ice that blocks the horizon. Ahead of us, forming a backcloth to this battlefield, is one of the largest and most populous cities in the world, one of the greatest of modern metropolises. It is a scene in which the essential elements are not those created by nature—fields, woods, meadows, rivers, lakes—but those created by men: the high grey walls of the workers’ houses, pierced by innumerable windows, the factory-chimneys, the bare, rectilinear blocks of glass and concrete, the iron bridges, the colossal cranes of the steelworks, the bells of the gasometers, the gigantic trapezoidal frames of the high-tension electric pylons: a scene which seems to reflect, with the precision of an X-ray photograph, the true nature, the essential, secret nature, of this war, in all its technical, industrial, and social aspects, in all its modern significance of a war of machines, of a technical and social war: an austere scene, smooth and compact as a wall, as the boundary-wall of an immense factory. (188-9)

[Reflecting on the people in Leningrad] Of all the peoples of Europe the Russian people is the one that accepts privation and hunger with most indifference, it is the people that dies most readily. This is not stoicism. It is something else—something deeper, perhaps, something mysterious. And the story that many tell of five million starving men and women, already a prey to despair, already ripe for revolt, of five million human beings cursing and blaspheming in a dark, frozen desert of houses without heat, without water, without light, without bread, is merely a myth, a ghastly myth. The reality is perhaps even harsher. Informers, prisoners and deserters are at one in describing the siege of Leningrad as a silent, stubborn agony, a slow, grey death. (The people die in their thousands every day, from hunger, privation, and disease.) The secret of this huge city’s resistance consists not so much in the number and quality of its weapons, not so much in the courage of its soldiers, as in its incredible capacity for suffering. Behind its steel-and-concrete defences Leningrad endures its martyrdom amid the ceaseless braying of the wireless loudspeakers which from the corner of every street din words of fire, words of steel, into the ears of those five million silent, stubborn, dying men and women. (192)

The bombardment of a city is not even remotely comparable, in its terrible effects, to that of a line of trenches. Although the houses consist of dead, inert matter, the bombardment seems to imbue them with a violent life, with a formidable vitality. The roar of the explosions, within the walls of the houses and mansions, in the streets and the deserted squares, echoes like a hoarse, continuous, terrifying scream. One has the impression that the houses themselves are screaming with terror, dancing up and down and writing amid the flames, before finally collapsing in a heap of blazing ruins. (222)

Malaparte delves into the political aspects of Leningrad and how it has historically been more revolutionary than other areas of the country. The tie between 1917 and this war becomes symbolic with the flying of the red flag of the cruiser Aurora above the Admiralty building, the same flag hoisted above the Palace fo the Tsars during the revolution. Malaparte sees such attitudes and events as a return of the “proletariat of Leningrad (which from the Marxist viewpoint is the most advanced and the most intransigent in the whole of the U.S.S.R.) to the Communistic spirit, as well as to the tactics of the civil war." (198) Malaparte demonstrates an idealized vision of Soviet Communism and its advances in his dispatches, although he does acknowledge the tendency to waste time on political arguing about theory while seemingly indifferent to shortages, agony, and death.

Like he did in the first half of the book with the Germans, Malaparte examines the Finnish work ethic and why he believes them to be superior in what is needed for war, while noting that victory is not guaranteed because of these comparative edges. It is during the siege of Leningrad section that the reader will find many intersections with parts of Kaputt and The Bird that Swallowed its Cage. The story The Traitor from the latter work (and linked in my review) makes its appearance here as an aside. Stories about Lake Ladoga, especially the “Horses” section of Kaputt, find echoes in his dispatches from this front, especially his description of the area where soldiers had fallen and ended up under the ice of the lake. During the spring thaw the bodies were washed away but the “masks” or impressions of their faces in the remaining ice provides a haunting image (or embellishment).

It’s during Malaparte’s final dispatch from the Leningrad front that he notes that something has withered and died in the soul of the city as it moves from part of the then-current age to the margins of strife. It’s difficult to tell how much of this is real and how much is disillusionment on Malaparte’s part. He notes he can’t be a mere spectator, but that seems to be consistent with his style elsewhere. That's part of what makes reading Malaparte fun for me…even when he promises he’s telling the truth it’s difficult to fully accept the claim. These dispatches show off the best parts of his style, especially when focusing on the human aspect of the war while showing the connection to political, economic, and social dimensions.

Highly recommended, although I’d recommend reading some of his other works to see if you like them before searching for this book.