Of course I headed straight for the history book table, eager to see what they had on the eighteenth century and the American Revolution. There was an incredibly wide range of books available: World War 2, World war 1, lots of stuff on Victorian England, a Marx-Engels reader, a few books on the English Civil War, several books on the philosophy and practice of history, some of which I might go back and pick up tomorrow, a fair whack of medieval and Tudor history, some books on Revolutionary Europe, a smattering of books on Chinese and Japanese history, by which I was sorely tempted, and by dint of searching, a few books on the eighteenth century. A veritable feast, really.
I ended up with the following: Daniel J. Boorstin's The Americans, The National Experience - not exactly the period I'm researching and writing about, but I like his work; Ludwig Reiner's biography of Frederick the Great; Dorothy Marshall's Eighteenth Century England - I've read it, but the one I read was a library copy and its nice to have my own copy; Christopher Duffy's The Military Experience in the Age of Reason - which is intrinsically interesting, and I am writing a sort of military/social history of the late 18th century; and the original Oxford History of England volume of Basil Williams's The Whig Supremacy 1714-1760 - which means I now have all the volumes on eighteenth century Britain in both the original and new Oxford History of England series.
After that I searched round for the biography section, tucked away in a corner - there was the usual assortment - biographies of royalty, movie stars, politicians etc., etc., but there was one jewel - Frank McLynn's biography of Bonnie Prince Charlie - apart from it being eighteenth century, as an ex-Catholic I have a sneaking regard for the Jacobites, even if, on balance, the Stuarts were a bunch of incredibly inept monarchs.
Then back to the history table to pick up a copy of Bernal Diaz's The Conquest of New Spain- which I read years ago but want to have another look at. In my spare time when I'm not writing book reviews, researching my book on First Fleeters in the War of American Independence, and fart-arsing around on teh Internet, I've set myself a project of reading (or re-reading) the classic historians. I'm looking for a three volume copy of Gibbon.
My copies of Herodotus, Thucydides, Polybius, Livy, Sallust, Tacitus, Suetonius, Josephus, Ammianus Marcellinus (my favourite Roman historian), Bede, Froissart and Joinville/Villehardouin all disappeared years ago. I was leaving Armidale for a while and left all my books in my flat. In an act of foolish kindness I sublet my flat to a homeless old guy, but he didn't pay the rent, and was evicted. I didn't find out for months. Consequently the real estate agent, who thought I'd disappeared into smoke, either auctioned all the books off or threw them out on the tip. I'd had them for so many years and leafed through them so many times, they were almost falling apart.
Down at the local book shop there's an abridged copy of Clarendon's History of the Rebellion I've got my eye on, along with a copy of Jacob Burckhardt's The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy. And it would be a pleasure to read Macaulay once more. Don't think I'll try Carlyle again though. There are limits.
There are some early Americans - William Bradford for one, I'd like to have a go at. Parkman is one of the few of their greats I've read, waiting for a re-read, and Richard Frothingham's delightful history of Bunker Hill and the Siege of Boston, which cheers me every time I dip into it. I'd like to have another go at Prescott's History of the Conquest of Mexico again, too. Last time I found him quite a struggle, though that might have had something to do with the fact that the local library copy I was reading had a warped cover. I just found it annoying.
The book that's inspired me to go on this particular trope is John Burrow's A History of Histories. Well worth a read, though he's far too dismissive of the Marxist contribution to the theory and practice of history in my opinion. (Who can read Christopher Hill, Eric Hobsbawm, Marcus Rediker or Peter Linebaugh without being inspired?)
I once said on another blog, don't get me going on history and books. You can't stop me. But stop I will - for now.
Update: Monday. Went back to the Rotary Book Sale this morning. Its one of those cold drizzly mornings that happen in Armidale, a usual precursor to the horror of an Armidale winter; or what used to be the horror of an Armidale winter before global warming kicked in. But books are one thing that can get me out of bed in winter.
On Saturday, going to the book sale was a bit like going to a David Jones Boxing Day Sale - well, not quite, but I'm sure you know what I mean. Today, though, there was hardly anybody roaming among those numerous tables of books.
I only looked at the history table. And the history god/goddess was with me, I think, because I found a couple of books I would've bought on-line eventually. Lawrence Henry Gipson's The Coming of the Revolution, which I'll start on almost immediately; and Barbara Tuchman's The First Salute. A View of the American Revolution. This book didn't get very good reviews, especially from maritime historians, who said she didn't know one end of a sailing ship from the other, but it will be interesting, nonetheless. Now I'll have to make up my own mind about it.
There were other treasures, too. J. H. Parry's The Age of Reconnaissance - one wonders, though, when the jacket reads 'Profusely illustrated' exactly what one's in for; Boxer's classic history of The Portuguese Seaborne Empire, 1415-1825. And W. J. Eccles' France in America. Written from a Canadian perspective, I suspect, at the very least it will be intriguing.
As I was paying for the books, the Rotary bloke behind the counter where you pay said of the rain, "The spots hardly join together." And he was right. It was a pleasant walk home.
No comments:
Post a Comment