What has Ecbatana to do with Gondolin?

 

Ecbatana: the inspiration for Gondolin?

There are many cities in the ancient world whose names are still well-known today. Babylon is perhaps the most famous, thanks in large part to the Bible. The writers of the bible had a bit of a downer on Babylon, which was hardly surprising, since they had ended up there against their will. Anyway, Babylon has become a bit of a synonym for the worst aspects of city life; decadent display, immoral living and the pursuit of money. Another city whose name has survived is Ur. As one of the first great examples of a Metropolis Ur has become a prefix denoting first; an Ur-text is one that contains the first version of something.

The City of the Medes

You may not be familiar with the name Ecbatana however. Let me tell you about this place, which played a significant role in history. In the eighth century B.C. the big superpower in the Fertile Crescent was Assyria. Militaristic conquerors who ruled with an iron fist, the Assyrians liked nothing better than a good impaling after sacking a city. But eventually even the Assyrians had to learn the same lesson that the Romans did centuries later; out beyond your borders somewhere there are a bunch of wild men who don’t give a damn about your reputation and love a good dust-up even more than you do. In the Assyrians case these turned out to the Medes, nomads from the Zagros Mountains who got tired of constantly having to give up their best horses to the Assyrian tax-collectors. Rising up in revolt they perhaps surprised even themselves by sacking Nineveh, the Assyrian capital.

 The centre of power then shifted to the Median Capital. This was Ecbatana, a City nestling in the mountains. The Medes themselves, as natural nomads, took a while to get used to urban living, but eventually got the hang of using architecture as a display of power. They themselves were superseded as top dogs by another nomadic people, the Persians, who, under Cyrus the Great, conquered not only Media but Babylon itself. But the Medes survived as partners in the Persian rise to greatness and Ecbatana thrived accordingly. Under the successors of Cyrus the Persians built a great Empire, with a great city to match; Paarsa, known to us by its Greek name as Persepolis- the City of the Persians. But Persepolis had a drawback; it could be stifling hot and uncomfortable in the summer. The Persian kings took to spending their summers in Ecbatana, whose location in the northern hills made it much more amenable in the summertime, much as the British in India retired to Simla in the foothills of the Himalayas to escape the summer heat. 

What was Ecbatana like?

Our descriptions of Ecbatana come not from a Persian but a Greek; Herodotus, one of the first great historians. Herodotus was born in Halicarnassus in Anatolia, then part of the Persian Empire. He had access to Persian sources of information and has left us a vivid description of Ecbatana;

“He (Dioeces, the traditional founder of the Median dynasty) built large and strong walls, those which are now called Ecbatana, standing in circles one within the other. And this wall is so contrived that one circle is higher than the next by the height of the battlements alone. And to some extent, I suppose, the nature of the ground, seeing that it is on a hill, assists towards this end; but much more was it produced by art, since the circles are in all seven in number. And within the last circle are the Royal Palace and the treasure-houses. The largest of these walls is in size about equal to the circuit of the wall around Athens; and of the first circle the battlements are white, of the second black, of the third crimson, of the fourth blue, of the fifth red, thus are the battlements of all the circles coloured with various tints, and the two last have their battlements one of them overlaid with silver and the other with gold….”

Approaching the gates of Ecbatana must have been an impressive site, with the polychrome walls appearing from a distance as a solid barrier. The city was famous for centuries and its successor is the modern city of Hamadan. A real place then with a real history. Keep the description of Herodotus in mind as we consider our second city; Gondolin. 

Middle-Earth, a place quite like our own world. 

Middle-Earth, the creation of the imagination of J.R.R. Tolkien, an Oxford Philology Professor, has inspired many people to try their hand at what he himself called, in his Lecture on Fairy stories delivered at St Andrews University in 1936, ‘sub-creation’. Tolkien believed that the urge to tell stories in an imaginative way has been with humans for as long as we have existed. He also felt that such stories needed to take reality as a starting point, even if they introduced the fantastical. Middle-earth follows this blueprint with both its geography and its history grounded in reality. The landscape of Ithilien in Gondor, for instance, contains recognisable plants such as Thyme and Sage. The story of how the Riders of Rohan (basically Anglo-Saxons with cavalry) came to live in their land has clear parallels with the barbarian settlements in Western Europe in the fifth century A.D.

The most obvious reference culturally is the story of Numenor, which is Tolkien’s retelling of the Atlantis myth, whilst the plot device of a magic ring is self-evidently taken from Norse Sagas, along with elements of the character of both Sauron and Gandalf, who both mirror aspects of Odin. All these have been remarked on by reviewers, commentators and writers of books on Tolkien long before me (take a bow Paul Kocher). One possible source of inspiration for somewhere in Middle-earth had passed me by until recently however; the inspiration for the Elven City of Gondolin. Mentioned in the Hobbit as the place from which the swords Glamdring and Orcrist originated, it is also referenced in the Lord of the Rings.

Its full story can be found in the Silmarillion, which describes the pre-history of Middle-earth. Here is a brief First age History lesson. The Valar, Tolkien’s version of the Olympian Gods, encourage the Elves to travel to the far west, to Valinor, their home, in order to be safe. Valinor is lit by the light of two trees, Laurelin and Telperion, one golden, one silver. Three kindred’s of Elves make the journey, the Vanyar, the Teleri and the Noldor. The last of these, the Noldor, become great craftsmen and artists. The greatest of these craftsmen is Feanor, son of Finwe, the Chieftain of the Noldor. Feanor traps light from the two trees into three jewels, the Silmarils.

Here the story takes a dark turn. Morgoth, the greatest of the Valar, who has a share in the gifts of all of them, tires of the constraints of collective governance. He makes a bid for power and poisons the trees. The Valar beg Feanor to break open the jewels in order to heal the trees. He refuses but then learns that Morgoth has murdered his father, stolen the Jewels and fled to Middle-earth. Wild with grief Feanor stirs up the Noldor to follow him and seize back the jewels. The Valar attempt to ban departure but the Noldor leave anyway. This act of defiance is compounded by a further crime. The Noldor need the ships of the Teleri to leave but the Teleri tell Feanor their ships are as valuable to them as his jewels are valuable to him. Feanor gives the order to take them by force and many Teleri are slain.

This kinslaying takes away the moral high ground from the Noldor and dooms their enterprise. The war against Morgoth cannot be won. One of the few Noldor leaders to appreciate this is Turgon, nephew of Feanor. Turgon is a worrier- the one standing at the back saying “I have a bad feeling about this”. This is partly because he is close to Ulmo, Tolkien’s version of Poseidon, who is big on future foretellings. On the advice of Ulmo Turgon looks to found a refuge against the day that things go wrong.

He is guided to a secret valley encircled by mountains where he founds his refuge, the City of Gondolin. This city endures for many years, away from the prying eyes of Morgoth, but Turgon cannot escape the fate of the Noldor. What he can do is mitigate it. He is told by Ulmo to leave armour and weapons in a cavern by the sea and to accept the wearer when he comes to Gondolin. The wearer turns out to be Tuor, a member of one of the ruling houses of men. Tuor’s father and Uncle are Huor and Hurin. Hurin acts as rear-guard when Turgon, having led an army to the aid of his brother Fingon, retreats,allowing him to escape back to Gondolin. Tuor is guided to Gondolin by one of its people and is allowed entrance because of the armour. Here he has to pass seven gates; the first of wood, the second of stone, the third of bronze, the fourth of writhen iron, the fifth of silver, the sixth of gold and the seventh of steel. This is described in the Book of Unfinished tales, published by Christopher Tolkien after his fathers’ death, in a chapter entitled ‘Of Tuor and his coming to Gondolin’.  

Another posthumous publication, the Fall of Gondolin, contains the story of Gondolin as originally written by Tolkien. In that version, when he arrives at the gates of Gondolin Tuor is told that Gondolin has seven names. Seven is a significant number in Tolkien’s world. Feanor has seven sons; the crown of Durin, the Dwarf king, is represented by seven stars.

So let us go back to where we started; Ecbatana, the City built on seven levels with seven circuit walls of different colours. It is tempting to conclude that Tolkien, a widely read Oxford Professor of language, may well have read Herodotus’ description of Ecbatana and that he may have used it for the germ of the idea of Gondolin, the city of seven names with its seven gates made of different materials. Gondolin is built on a hill, Tumladen, surrounded by mountains, much as Ecbatana is.

There is a further connection. Tuor settles in Gondolin and marries Idril, the daughter of the King. Their son is Earendil, who has twin sons, Elrond (yes, THAT Elrond) and Elros. Because their mother is Elwing, an Elf, the twins, (echoes of Castor and Pollux here) are allowed to choose to be Mortal man or Immortal Elf. Elrond chooses to be of Elf kind. Elros chooses to be Mortal and becomes the first king of Numenor. When Numenor falls a descendent of his, Elendil, escapes to Middle-Earth (like Aeneas from the sack of Troy. His sons are Isildur and Anarion). Anarion founds the city of Minas Tirith. Now this City IS made up of seven levels, built up against Mount Mindolluin. I always felt that Minas Tirith was meant to be an echo of, or inspired by Gondolin.

This is all conjecture of course.But I like the idea that Ecbatana of the Medes somehow found its way into Middle-earth. What do you think?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A is for Asimov; and there are two in Big Data

Asimov’s big idea

With the current interest in AI and where it might be leading us it is no surprise that the name Asimov is frequently referenced in discussions. Isaac Asimov, although a scientist and educator in his own right, is best known as a writer of Science Fiction. In particular, his stories about a future society grappling with how to assimilate robots seem very prescient today. In these stories he introduced his ‘Three Laws of Robotics’ which have become so well-known that people often quote them as if they are actual scientific laws on a par with those of Newton:

1.     A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

2.     A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

3.     A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.

 

 These laws are written into a robot’s software to control their interactions with humans. Much of what Asimov wrote as science fiction is now science fact; for instance in the opening chapter of his Foundation series he describes some-one using a pocket calculator and another character reading information from a VDU screen. Unremarkable you might think, until you realise these stories were first published in the 1940’s. The Foundation novels were set in a future 20,000 years after the Robot Novels. At the end of “The Robots of Dawn” the Robots themselves conclude that their existence is damaging humanity by removing self-reliance and initiative and therefore encourage a wave of space exploration that does not use robots. The Foundation stories therefore describe a society that is Robot free.

Asimov’s other big idea

They also describe a future where humanity pervades the galaxy, living on over twenty-five million populated worlds. This epic stage allows Asimov to introduce another big idea: the science of Psycho-history. This is the statistical analysis of human behaviour through the means of mathematical equations. Developed by the scientist Hari Seldon, Psycho-history was a synthesis of information of a mass of variables brought together through mathematical equations. Asimov looked at the Economics and Sociology of his time and imagined a blend of them, underpinned by mathematics, able to map out the future direction of society.

Just as his three laws underpinned the functioning of robots, the scientist in Asimov created assumptions which were necessary for Psycho-history to be valid. The first assumption was that the statistical sample being studied was large enough to include all variables. The second was that the humans being studied were unaware of the fact so that their behaviour was not altered by the fact of that observation. In the later Foundation stories Asimov explores what happens when people move from observing to manipulating, and what happens when people resent that manipulation. The Seldon Plan became a blue-print to predict the future that underpins the entire series (it nearly undermined the whole series by removing the element of suspense; Asimov had to subvert the Seldon Plan in order to re-introduce jeopardy to his characters lives, but that’s another story).

 

And so to Big Data

At this point you will be beginning the make the same connections I did; that this sounds a lot like Big Data. The inter-connected world we have gradually moved into over the last twenty years has created the opportunity to conduct studies with a view to prediction. These can provide answers to questions such as: When will energy demand be at its highest? when will traffic flows present a risk of gridlock? and so on, with a much higher degree of accuracy than previously possible. The biggest data sample of all is of course made up of the users of Facebook, which whilst nowhere as great as the population of Asimov’s Galactic Empire, still tops out at over 1.6 billion humans.

To manage all this data Facebook, along with other digital giants like Google and Amazon, utilises its own equations, the famous (or perhaps infamous) algorithms. Analysing the buying habits, location changes, demographics, likes and preferences of two billion people is going to throw up some valid conclusions for those who take the trouble. How society came to be persuaded to provide the information is a topic for another article, as are the ethical questions raised by such data harvesting. We are though perhaps at the point where people are beginning to be aware of being manipulated and possibly to resent it. We are slowly becoming aware of the extent to which our personal data may have been used to target us with messages with a view to influencing our voting decisions.

Government by Big Data?

Leaving aside such discussion, perhaps for another post, the point to be made here is that with Big Data we are at least in the embryonic stages of creating a society run on Psycho-historic lines, where policy is dictated by algorithm. Any-one who doubts this should consider the UK government briefings on the progress (if that is the right word) of the COVID 19 pandemic. The press conferences largely revolved around a series of graphs with commentary on direction of travel of the lines on the graphs, how actions affect the data and, finally, how the data will influence future policy. This makes sense, reflecting Sherlock Holmes assertion that it is a mistake to theorise without data. However, this way of making policy has a potential flaw at its heart; namely that in the litany of numbers it becomes possible to forget that each number represents a person; in this case a suffering or even dying person. Numbers can also be spun (there are lies, downright lies and statistics). There have already been examples of this. One scientific advisor ruminated at one point that 20,000 UK deaths from COVID 19 would be “a good result” compared with earlier forecasts that were much higher. I cannot escape a nagging suspicion that by setting out the shape of a graph as the goal of policy the Government is essentially saying that a certain number of deaths are acceptable as long as they don’t all come at once.

Resistance to accepting that data rules runs through the early episodes of the Foundation series. At one point, when the Foundation has finally come out on top in a particular struggle, one character reminds another that the “inevitable victory” they speak of has only come about after months of struggle and the expenditure of many lives, suggesting that human agency is still the determining factor.  

Whilst the Government stance of being guided by the science and the data is understandable they need to be aware of the risks of over-reliance on this, in particular, fooling themselves into thinking that being guided by data absolves them of any responsibility. Moreover, Data can be interpreted in different ways and no-one has a monopoly on wisdom. Data is merely information. It is only useful when human intelligence is applied to it to draw conclusions. As the poet T.S. Eliot puts it, in an uncannily prescient couplet:

“Where is the wisdom we have lost in Knowledge?

Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?”

So, if you have never dipped into the writings of Asimov, especially the Foundation series- both the earlier trilogy and the later sequels, Foundation’s Edge and Foundation and Earth, perhaps now is a good time to do so.  They will provide food for thought on Big Data and determinism as well as being great stories in their own right, whilst if the society he describes seems an awful lot like our own you can reflect on how prophetic he was (to any-one who doubts the connection between science fiction and scientific advance I would say, just take a good look at your mobile phone, then watch an episode of the first Star Trek series. Star trek communicators to mobiles, I think we can all trace a direct line there). For me the appeal of Asimov’s writings is that he makes you think, not least about the impact of technology on society.

Liverpool in February, before COVID changed everything

Images from a pre-COVID world

In February I visited Liverpool with my son and spent some time down at the Waterfront. That visit belongs to a pre-COVID world and, as some-one who worked in Liverpool (I was working there the last time Liverpool won the title!) I have been wondering, and worrying, how the Albert Dock location can recover from this. Mingling with the crowds of locals and tourists on that trip the idea of infection had only just started to be a concern.Now everything has changed......

  

 

An old school Twitter Poem

Remember when Twitter was all about the 140 characters; to tell a story, make a point, start a conversation? Have you ever tried to write a poem in 140 characters that evoked a scene? Here's my first effort from a few years ago. I hope you like the tale of unrequited love that it spins.....

A Twitter Poem

We’re all talking,

She says:

Remember the fete?

Yes, I say

Your mini dress

You drank Sol

Danced to Elvis

She looks at me eyes wide

My secret’s out

140 characters

My Favourite Book

Nostromo by Joseph Conrad

Name my favourite book. That’s a tough question. Reading is very important to me; I would go so far as to call it a compulsion. I read whenever I have any spare time and get withdrawal symptoms when I can’t. So narrowing down my books to one was difficult. But in the end they all deferred to what I consider the greatest novel ever written; Nostromo by Joseph Conrad. 

Conrad’s writing is characterised by vivid descriptive passages, subtle characterisation and the desire to encapsulate meaning in the very descriptions of people and events. Nostromo is no exception. Set in the fictional South American country of Sulaco, in essence it tells the story of Nostromo, an Italian man of nondescript birth and status, who, by his character and abilities, rises to be Capitan De Cargadores, Foreman of the Dockworkers. Nostromo attains heroic status by his actions on the day a revolution breaks out, but ultimately founders on the rocks of two latent flaws; his inability to comprehend the complexities of his relationships with women and an increasing bitterness towards what he sees as a lack of appreciation on the part of his European employers. These twin perils lead him to pursue what others would regard as less than blameless behaviour and ultimately lead to his downfall. 

Nostromo himself is supported by a rich cast of supporting characters who possess their own motivations, dilemmas and stories, such as Charles Gould, an enigmatic Englishman who inherits a Silver mine. Another major character in the story is the country of Sulaco itself, whose geography shapes its history and whose history defines its soul. From the mountain range of the Andes to the deep waters of the Gulf of Sulaco, Conrad gives us rich descriptions of the landscape and its effect on the people who live there. 

The structure of the novel is very modern, moving backwards and then forwards in time, much like a thriller movie or detective story on TV. It begins at the climactic point of the action, with revolution breaking out and the desperate Colonial characters trying to escape on a steamship (this is Conrad anticipating what would become a familiar twentieth century scene, culminating in the helicopters on the American Embassy roof in Saigon in 1975).Nostromo rallies his dockworkers to protect them, cementing his reputation as a leader and man of substance. The action then moves back several years to explain what led to the revolution in the first place, reprises the events already described in the light of the explanation, then moves on to explore Nostromos’ relationships with two sisters and his subsequent fall from grace. 

At the very beginning of the book, in the course of being told about the legend of some treasure seekers on one of the headlands that encompass the Gulf of Sulaco, we are introduced to the Isabels, a string of small islands in the middle of the gulf. At the end, as the denouement unfolds with the Isabels as the key location, we understand why. The end of the story was inevitable from the beginning and the whole novel is an explanation of the meaning of these small patches of ground in the midst of the echoing gulf, as well as of a new legend of a man seeking after treasure.

Connections

Connections

I remember the excitement of leaving,

an early eighties early morning, 

my eighteen hour odyssey unfolding,

to a college no-one had heard of, somewhere

between Snowdonia and the Irish sea.

The train carries me in the footsteps of Boudicca

through Colchester, where the monstrous 

carbuncle of the Temple of Claudius

came to an ugly end, 

not long after it was built. 

Destroyed by Luddites, who stated

very firmly, with fire (and according

to certain obstinate historians, the sword)

that they wanted none of that modern nonsense

here, thank you very much.

And so to London, where the ashes 

of their arson slowly compacts to coal 

beneath my feet. Two days beforehand,

The Roman Governor had arrived.

His press secretary announced,

following "consultation", that London

could not be defended, alas. Collateral 

damage, which could not be avoided, 

was "and I want to make this clear"

to be blamed on the Celts.

The army, away fighting fanaticism

in cold Cambria, would deal with the revolt

in due course. They would naturally help 

to sweep up the ashes and assist where possible

with the subsequent urban regeneration.

So I stand on a Welsh hillside, overlooking 

the Irish sea, hoping to spot the young Agricola

in among the legions passing beneath 

my feet. I reflect on the european union of men

marching past; Italian, German, Dutch, Spanish,

nineteen hundred years before my birth. 

yet more real to this nineteen year old boy

than my future, today decided, as a Hotel Manager,

and my imminent replanting from one place 

to another, connected by death in A.D. 61.

In the year 2001, the phone rings.

I answer, looking out once more

over soaring Suffolk skies,

my twenty year odyssey over

(in case you're wondering, Penelope didn't wait).

"Hello, it's your mother on the mobile-

we're driving through Colwyn Bay

en route to Anglesey, and I thought of you".

Some connections never go away.

They're just re-made with new energies. 

How big is your big picture?

How big is your big picture?

    

Introduction

We’re all familiar with the scenario. There’s this huge economic trading area, comprising of previously mutually antagonistic peoples. Within its borders goods and people move freely in a complex economic web that provides luxuries as well as essentials. Its borders are defended by up to date first world technology, its territory criss-crossed by an effective road and transport system. Despite recent economic shocks and problems its citizens live largely peaceful, prosperous and sedate lives. War is a foreign adventure not a domestic calamity. 

Outside its borders the picture is very different; the world is good deal more turbulent, less prosperous and less stable. Those outside see this economic area as a land of promise- they want a share of the good life too. Many of them are fleeing war and persecution, to such an extent that there are mass movements of population putting pressure on the borders of the settled world. 

I’m talking about the European Union, right? Well, no, actually. I’m talking about the Roman Empire in the late fourth century. When I look at that period of time I am increasingly struck by the similarities with today and it seems to me that we may be looking at the migration/immigration issues we face in far too narrow a way. 

So, about those similarities. Well, in the last but one decade of the fourth century events in what was then the Roman province of Britain had consequences in Rome itself and eventually contributed to the British exit from the Roman Empire. Maximus, the military commander in Britain, had himself declared Emperor at York and took his legions out of Britain to march on Rome. Unlike Constantine at the beginning of the century, who had done the same thing, his attempt failed, weakening the Roman grip on Britain in the process. 

Meanwhile, out on the Russian steppes, a series of crises we still don’t fully understand was causing successive waves of people to migrate west. One cause may have been Chinese expansion. Although the Roman Empire and the Chinese Empire of the time seem to have been ignorant of each other’s existence (despite armies from both reaching the Caspian Sea, albeit in different centuries), Chinese pacification of the tribesmen on its western frontier possibly set off the migrations which carried on for centuries, as first the Huns, the Goths, the Alans, the Avars and finally the Magyars arrived in Europe. 

Today civil war in Syria, conflict in Africa and insecurity across the Middle East have set off movements of people who are desperate to gain entry to the “promised land” of Europe. 

The end of the Western Empire

To the settled citizenry of the Roman Empire the incomers from the East seemed uncouth and “uncivilised”. In fact, their social set-up was very sophisticated, it just ran on different lines. Those at the top of barbarian society were both well-off and well-informed and as adept at gaining advantage through negotiation as well as force. Roman policy was always two-fold- to keep out where possible or to assimilate by offering foederati status, the right to live within the Empire whilst retaining their own laws and customs. Eventually though, the numbers became too great for assimilation and their leaders perceived the weakness of the Roman leadership. During the fifth century the Lombards, the Visgoths, the Vandals and the Franks gradually assumed control of the various provinces, often in the name of Rome. The magnitude of these changes only became apparent over time. To many citizens in urban centres it was scarcely discernible at first. What mattered to them as ever was security and prosperity.

Whilst you can stretch analogies too far, recent years have seen the sheer number of incomers become a significant factor in Europe; possibly contributing to the result of the  Brexit debate and vote, and to the rise of protectionist ideas in many European countries. Meanwhile, the movement of people has been sparked by events over which the West has very little control (although we may have contributed to the causes). In the long run the Empire was replaced by barbarian kingdoms who nonetheless claimed legitimacy from Roman antecedents. The ruling families of the Anglo-Saxon Heptarchy inserted Julius Caesar into their family trees and the early Frankish Kings took Roman titles such as Consul.  Today's incomers are more atomised, individuals and families rather than tribes on the march of course, but they are changing Europe too.

So when I say, how big is your big picture, I mean, have you (have I) been thinking deeply enough about what is going on? Is the current situation one that can be managed or part of a fundamental change? The Roman Empire lasted several hundred years, by contrast the current status quo is a post-war construct still decades short of being a century old, whilst its current incarnation only dates back to the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe. One of the strengths of the Roman Empire was its adaptability; it responded to facts on the ground by re-labelling things or by re-organising the way tax was levied to allow newcomers to still claim to be part of the Roman system even though they were very different in social mores and organisation.  As a result it is very difficult to pin down a year and say, this is when the Roman Empire ended.

 In this country, no doubt influenced by the seismic change wrought by 1066, we tend to talk about 410, the year the Legions left for good, but it is clear a Sub-Roman culture persisted for another two centuries in some parts of Britain before being subsumed by what we now label as an Anglo-Saxon one. Cities such as Lincoln, Chester, Carlisle and others helped to ensure the transition from Roman to Germanic was a gradual one. Something else was going on too. Although it suited Anglo-Saxon kings to listen as their Bards told stories of how their heroic ancestors conquered the land, it seems that the process was more one of assimilation. When writers in the 7th century started talking about the peoples that made up the various kingdoms, they were talking about geography as much as ethnicity. If you lived in the territory of the Hwicce or the Magonsaetan, you were a part of that gens, to use the Latin term, regardless of whether your ancestors were Germanic or Celtic, or something else entirely. 

Europe today

Likewise today; to be German or Swedish or French means to live there and to subscribe to that society, whether your ancestors come from the Massif Central or the Atlas Mountains in North Africa, or from Bavaria or Turkey. There are, and probably always will be, people who believe in racial heritage as the main indicator of nationality and have an instinctive fear of the 'other'; I believe the lessons of the end of the Roman Empire teach us something different; that what counts is the ability to forge a society that can look after its citizens. Further, who among us can genuinely know where we come from? Roman Britain included Celtic and pre-celtic people as well as Italians of course, and the children of Roman Auxiliaries who married local women, who were from all over Europe and beyond. And the Anglo-Saxons? Rank newcomers, parvenu Johnny-come-latelys who didn’t even rock up until two and a half thousand years after the construction of Stonehenge. They were followed by Vikings, Normans, Flemings, German traders who belonged to the Hanseatic league, Huguenot refugees from France and refugees from Central Europe during the nineteenth century.  

So even before the incomers from South-East Asia, the Carribean and Africa put in an appearance, the British Isles were a melting pot of peoples. Always have been, always will be- and maybe, just possibly, we are living through another big shake-up that will transform these islands as well as the rest of Europe.. Now, you can be afraid of that, and react with fear, that is say, negatively, or you can embrace it. The visible sign of all this is of course the rubber dinghy laden with desperate people, the lorry filled with young men hoping to get through the border checks. In the fifth century the modes of transport were different but the hopes and fears of the people on them were, it is safe to say, similar. One way or another, we have to respond, the question is what form will the response take? This question is one of the big drivers of our time; how we respond will say a lot about us and our society. So, I end as I began; how big is your big picture?

Retired Schooner, Conwy Harbour

Retired Schooner, Conwy Harbour

So sad to see you here, dry-docked; 

Chained fast to rough-hewn harbour wall,

By manacles that hold you land-locked, 

Responsive no more to the rise and fall

Of the Ocean swell; embracing the keel, 

Caressing the stern, a lover and friend

Whose touch you welcome. Do you feel

Any sense of sadness at journey's end?

Princess disguised, changeling under a spell, 

Your gun-ports black with modern paint, 

(Where once they spat the flames and smoke of hell).

In place of England's Patron Saint 

(Red cross on white) the flag of commerce flies,

Tea and scones in the state-room aft, 

Where chart and compass, helped by sun and skies, 

Plotted roadless roads for a salt-scarred craft.

Yet even here your dignity remains, 

Gulls still find a perch on mastheads tall, 

Though bloodstains now defer to coffee stains,

You lie in state, under frowning wall

And stubborn, alien castle towers

of Conwy town (by Edward's English built 

And defiant Welsh reclaimed). Soft showers 

Flood your decks with tears; tears of English guilt. 

Do you have to read a book more than once?

 

Do you have to read a book more than once?

If, like me, you are a keen reader, there are questions you will inevitably have been asked. One of the most common is: 

“Why do you have to read a book more than once?”

There are several answers to this question. Perhaps the most obvious is that a good book does not give up all its secrets at first reading. A good book draws you in. The first time you encounter it you want to know where the story is heading and ultimately, where it will end. This urge to know speeds up your reading rate and you concentrate on the narrative. It’s a lot like going on holiday; you want to reach your destination, so even if the landscape you pass through is picturesque, you cannot spare it more than a fleeting attention. But you might decide that on a future occasion, you will take the time to pass that way again, more slowly, and explore. 

There is a uniquely special feel to that first read that you will never recapture. But once you know how a book pans out, what happens to the characters you have met, you can give yourself permission to re-read the book with attention. On this second exploration you read more slowly, pausing to admire an especially eloquent description here, or stopping to consider an implication there. You may congratulate yourself on noticing a key fact or a piece of dialogue that, in the light of the story’s end, you now see is highly significant, but that you missed on first reading. Above all, you revel in the language; in the use of a phrase or a word that turns your soul inside out, with joy or sadness. The author who has that effect most on me is Joseph Conrad, whose lucid writing and ability to condense the human condition into a combination of a few words is, to my mind, unequalled in English writing. 

So of course books should be read more than once, if they deserve it. But there is a further reason, which is much more subtle. It relates to the time between each reading. If that time stretches out to years, or even decades, then it adds another dimension to the reading experience, another layer of understanding that illuminates your mind. 

You will have worked out the significance of this; which is that reading a book at different stages of your life changes your perspective on it. Not least, it alters your attitude to the characters and to which you empathise with. To take an obvious example, a teenager reading Romeo and Juliet is likely to feel their pain and understand the desperate nature of their passion. But some-one coming to it in middle-age may well roll their eyes in disgust at such youthful folly. I have experienced this perspective shift many times. As a precocious reader I tackled War and Peace at thirteen. Natasha Rostova was probably the first fictional crush I had; she seemed utterly captivating. But I missed the subtlety and irony of much of Tolstoy’s description of her. When I came to re-read the book in my thirties I realised that he simultaneously managed to present her own view of herself and a more grown-up view that showed her faults and frailties. 

Another example would be the Lord of the Rings; my young self naturally empathised with the hobbits. I re-read the book frequently into adulthood, but by then I identified more with the likes of Eomer or even Aragorn. If I were to read it now I know I would see things through the eyes of Gandalf and Elrond, elder statesmen trying to guide the wonderful but frequently foolish young. It will be interesting to know whether those who have grown up with Harry Potter gain an appreciation, when they read the books to their own children, of how long-suffering grown-ups like the Weasley parents and Professor Lupin are in the face of the adolescent recklessness of Harry and his peers. 

I hope that this article answers the question posed and inspires some-one to return to a book they have once read and re-discover what gave them joy whilst making new discoveries. I welcome any comments.

My first post

My first post

Welcome to the Curious Collection of Miscellanies. My aim in creating this blog is to ascertain whether a space exists on the internet for extended writing on a range of subjects. In addition, I want to share my curiosity about the world with others and encourage exploration of ideas and knowledge. I have no specific topics in mind; my main rule will be; no polemics or negative opinions. There are enough of those around already without me adding to the pile. If you do find yourself here you are very welcome. I hope the miscellanies will come to resemble a library of information and artefacts that will repay investigation.