Maus: A Survivor's Tale, by Art Spiegelman

Today I'm looking at a pair of graphic novels created by Art Spiegelman collectively known as Maus. Maus follows the life of Art's father, Vladek Spiegelman, through the 1930's and then through World War II. Vladek and his wife, Anja, were Polish Jews who lived in the city of Sosnowiec. Vladek worked as a salesman and eventually invested in a factory while Anja's family owned multiple textile mills in the city. Life for them in the thirties was fairly good but, as can be expected, when war broke out in 1939 things took considerable turns for the worst. The story is divided into two volumes, volume one My Father Bleeds History, talks about Vladek's life from the 1930's until early 1944 when he was sent to Auschwitz. The second volume,  And Here My Troubles Began, tells Vladek's story of survival in Auschwitz, Dachau, and the last few tense months of World War II before being rescued by American G.I.'s.

Framing Vladek's story of survival is Art's own struggles to interview his father, create this book, and understand his relationship with his father. Based on the evidence, Vladek was a very difficult man to live with, ranging from obsessively hoarding money and valuables, to keeping items that most other people would throw away in case they might come in useful, to strained emotional relationships with his wife and his son. Vladek comes across as a flawed and incredibly human person, and while it's clear that life hiding from the Nazis and living in the concentration camps affected him severely, it may have only exacerbated underlying aspects of Vladek's personality. It makes Vladek appear all the more three-dimensional as a character and as a person. Vladek isn't all good, but he isn't all bad either. Like most people he's a mix, but he took action and managed to survive the worst genocide in human history. It makes him very compelling and realistic.

The subject matter is, of course, hard to talk about. This is the worst abuse of human rights, the worst genocide, the worst of man's inhumanity to man, the worst of uncountable crimes in all of human history. There's a reason it's referred to as only The Holocaust. Any other description becomes inadequate in consideration of the cruelty involved. So many people might justly ask, is talking about the Holocaust in cartoon format, where all the characters are depicted as anthropomorphic animals, really the proper way to talk about this? And incredibly, yes, Spiegelman manages to create a depiction that is not only sensitive but emotionally engaging.

The decision to depict Jews as mice is an incredibly brilliant one on multiple levels. First, there is the history of Jews being described or depicted as vermin in Nazi propaganda, pests that needed to be wiped out for the health of the Reich. Spiegelman effectively reclaims that imagery and turns it on its head. Mice, after all, are survivors. Mice hide, mice scavenge, and despite being hunted ruthlessly, mice are still around. For the Jewish survivors of the Holocaust who hid, who scavenged, and who managed to survive, a determined mouse is an apt symbol.

I have not read many Holocaust survivor stories. I'm familiar with the narrative in Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaining, another Auschwitz survivor, so there are many similarities in there, but any story by a Holocaust survivor is going to be very emotionally heavy. Maus is no exception, because it not only tells the story of the Holocaust, but also explores the life of the survivor afterwards and shows how years of life spent hiding and suffering can have lasting effects on individuals. We see Vladek surviving not just in the past, but in the future, and it shows we can never really leave the past behind.

I think I would definitely recommend this story to people. It's a very hard read just because of the emotions involved and I find myself thinking maybe I shouldn't have plowed through the books in a couple of days. But it's a very emotional and very real story and well worth taking the time to check out.

- Kalpar

Bismarck, by Alan Palmer

Today I'm looking at a biography of Otto von Bismarck, known to students of European and German history as the Iron Chancellor of Prussia who united the disparate states into the German Empire in the nineteenth century. Bismarck has always been a controversial figure, his focus on militarism and authoritarian rule is seen as a foreshadowing of the atrocities of the Nazi regime half a century later. However, Bismarck also was a firm supporter of modernizing Prussia and Germany and later in his administration he would pass comprehensive social security plans for German workers, hoping it would cut any desire for socialist revolution in Germany. Bismarck is ultimately a figure of contradictions. A reactionary autocrat of the first order who promoted social welfare reform. A man often depicted in military uniform, but only served as a soldier for a year and became a Landwehr reserve lieutenant before pursuing a civil career in the diplomatic corps. A member of the Junker aristocracy and yet always seemingly apart from them. For a man who redrew the map of Europe Bismarck remains a puzzle to historians.

The career of Bismarck almost didn't begin. Evidence from his early days suggest that Bismarck played the role of ''wildman Junker'' to the hilt, followed by a pack of hunting dogs and getting in numerous duels during his time at university. In fact, Bismarck didn't do so well at university, despite his later genius at handling both international relations and managing Wilhelm I of Prussia and later Germany. With the death of his father, Bismarck spent nine years working as a gentleman farmer, trying to manage his estates and actually turning a profit. It's probable that if there was any school where Bismarck learned how to negotiate, how to manage people, and the importance of having multiple plans, it was probably the Frankfurt Diet of the German Confederation. Although his time in the diet was much ridiculed by his opponents, it probably still served an important purpose in his education.

Still, even with his experience in the diet it is surprising that Bismarck became chancellor at all. After making numerous enemies at home with his brash actions, Bismarck was sent as ambassador to Russia, a task he loathed because of the social interactions involved. For someone widely regarded as one of Europe's greatest diplomats, Bismarck had a hatred for social galas or even spending time in the capital. Bismarck was far happier to retire to his country estates in Altmark or Pomerania than among the glittering elite of nineteenth century Europe. In truth, Bismarck was only selected for chancellor and minister-president of Prussia because of an ongoing constitutional crisis.

A handful of reforms had been enacted in Prussia in the nineteenth century, including the creation of a parliamentary body, the Landtag. William I had wanted an increase in expenditure for the vaunted Prussian military which required approval from the Landtag, however a majority of the Landtag wanted a reduction in the compulsory military service from three years to two, something that William I was unwilling to negotiate on. Bismarck, never one to be worried by upsetting parliamentary niceties when it was to his advantage to do so, simply used the previous year's budget and governed without the Landtag under the auspices of a crisis, a constitutional position he had explored some years earlier.  The taxes got collected, the troops got equipped, and Bismarck had freedom to rule without parliamentary interference.

The image of Bismarck that emerges from his time as chancellor is a man of extreme moral flexibility. Bismarck will make friends with you one day and then stab you in the back the next if it was beneficial to his plans. Bismarck does not seem to be guided by any political ideology or philosophy and appears to have very little patience for people who do. His goal, as Palmer describes it, seems to be power for himself, and uniting Germany under Prussia was merely a means to expand that power for himself, as exhibited by Bismarck's own frustrations with rampant nationalist ideologues.

Another of Bismarck's strengths was his ability to have an extra plan, or two, or three for him to fall back on if his first plan didn't go through. As Extra History put it in their biographic series of Bismarck, the first rule of being Bismarck was ''Always have a plan''. This fit perfectly with his moral flexibility, and throughout his career Bismarck worked to never be in a position where he was forced to commit definitively to anything he didn't want, something that later leaders of the German Empire did not have the skill or ability to do. Which underlines the biggest weakness of Bismarck's system: it doesn't work without Bismarck.

Bismarck was an autocrat through and through, down to his inability (or perhaps unwillingness) to imagine a system that existed without him. He did try to groom his eldest son Herbert for the position of Chancellor, but Herbert proved unequal to the task and only served in a variety of posts in the diplomatic corps. Bismarck's position as Chancellor of the German Empire was added to the constitution of the empire as an afterthought, rather than as a key part. He existed independent of and unaccountable to the Reichstag, serving only at the pleasure of the emperor and so long as that was the manageable, aged William I, Bismarck had free reign to do as he pleased.

As long as Bismarck remained at the center of the system, the elaborate network of alliances, treaties, and agreements, the ad hoc nature of the machinery of government in Germany, everything worked in spite of its inherent weaknesses. But once the autocrat is gone, the entire machinery falls apart. This is even illustrated during Bismarck's administration by his frequent retreats to his estates, when all major decision making is either put on hold, or people must make the pilgrimage to Bismarck to get decisions. Crises that didn't get his immediate attention soon spun out of control until Bismarck was once again at the helm.

In this way, Bismarck is a quintessentially European figure displaced in time. A moral opportunist and autocrat of the first order in earlier epochs could have become king or established a dynasty. In the industrializing nineteenth century, Bismarck was faced with things he could not control or perhaps understand. A figure of contradictions, Bismarck will remain a person of great interest to historians for years to come.

- Kalpar

Sister Queens, by Julia Fox

If you live in the United States you might vaguely remember Ferdinand and Isabella as the monarchs who hired Christopher Columbus before he ''discovered'' the New World. However Ferdinand and Isabella had a much greater influence on European politics beyond sending an Italian who didn't know what the heck he was doing to murder some natives. Ferdinand and Isabella completed the centuries-long project of the reconquista and united the states of Castile and Aragon into modern Spain. And the marriages of their children would affect dynastic politics for generations to come. This book focuses on two of their children, Katherine of Aragon and Juana, Queen of Castile, often known as Juana the Mad.

Katherine of Aragon was familiar to me because she was the first of Henry VIII of England's six wives. Katherine's depiction varies from source to source, especially depending on the religion of the writer, but she has understandably received considerable coverage in English history and literature. So a lot of the material in this book was a refresher for me. I think Fox did a very good job of portraying Katherine as a whole and complex person rather than a cardboard cut-out.

The biggest thing I learned from this book was about Katherine's older sister, Juana of Castile. Juana was the third of Ferdinand and Isabella's children and was never expected to inherit. However once their brother Juan and older sister Isabella died, Juana was left to inherit the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon after already being married to Philip, Archduke of Burgundy, of the influential Hapsburg family. When Isabella died before Ferdinand in 1504, this meant that potentially whoever could control Juana very likely would control Castile as well. This launched a fight between Ferdinand, Philip, and on Philip's death in 1506, his son Charles who would become Emperor Charles V. Eventually Ferdinand and Charles would both imprison Juana under claims of her insanity and Juana would spend the majority of her life imprisoned.

The story that is mostly used to justify the claims of Juana's insanity was a story relating to her husband's body, which Fox manages to explain really well within the context of dynastic and religious politics of the sixteenth century. Juana sought to have her husband buried in the Alhambra located in Granada, the final conquest of her parents in 1492, and importantly where Isabella herself had been buried. By burying her husband with her mother, the former Queen of Castile, Juana sought to cement her position as queen in her own right. However both her father Ferdinand and later her son Charles were able to turn the royal progress of her husband's body into the actions of a madwoman to legitimize  their own usurpation of her power.

The ultimate irony of course is that despite being held prisoner for most of her life, Juana eventually influenced all of Europe through her children. The Hapsburgs married into the royal families of Europe and the Austrian branch of the family would rule as Holy Roman Emperors and later Emperors of Austria-Hungary until 1918. And Fox argues that since Juana's actions always seemed to be for the good of her dynasty, she would perhaps be satisfied with the final outcome.

Overall I thought this book was a really good reexamination of at least Juana, who I really only knew the one story about her alleged craziness that's been perpetuated for centuries. Katherine it feels very familiar but on a much deeper level than some of the more general Tudor histories that I've read or listened to. I did appreciate Fox going into the details of Katherine's struggles with Henry VII, definitely one of the more avaricious Kings of England. I think this is well worth the time to check out and give you better understanding of the dynastic politics of the sixteenth century.

- Kalpar

Napoleon: A Life, by Andrew Roberts

Today I'm looking at a biography of Napoleon Bonaparte, a man whose ambitions took him from the shores of Corsica to the deserts of Egypt to the fields of Austerlitz to the ashes of Moscow. It is impossible to understand Europe in the nineteenth century without talking about Napoleon. With such a figure it is difficult to put them within historical context and look at them as a person rather than an idea. To the French Napoleon is often idolized, the glorious general-statesman who made French arms victorious across Europe. To the British Napoleon is a war-mongering monster who burned Europe to feed his ceaseless ambition. Ultimately the truth about Napoleon the man, rather than Napoleon the idea, will be somewhere in the middle.

Roberts pulls on a variety of resources, including the voluminous documents available at this time period and letters by Napoleon that were not previously available. The result is a book that feels very well-researched but I'll admit at the beginning I was a little concerned about this being a little hagiographic. Because there is so much acrimony surrounding Napoleon I can understand Roberts's efforts to dispel the opprobrium surrounding him, but I was worried at times that Roberts went a little too far in the other direction. I will admit that there are things Napoleon did which were net positives, such as the reform of the French civil code which has influenced legal codes in countless countries today. But there are some simple facts, like Napoleon's decision to overthrow the French Directorate and get declared consul, then consul for life, then emperor reflect badly on him. I'm aware this is very much my American-ness coming out with the example of George Washington an exceedingly rare example of a man who could have become king if he wanted (and in fact some people thought about making him king) but instead chose to step down from political power and created a precedent of peaceful transfer of power for two centuries.

 However, Roberts does point out numerous mistakes Napoleon made, especially later in his reign, and takes Napoleon to task for these mistakes. Examples include the invasion of Russia which was a logistical nightmare and the point where the Grand Armee's hubris became a weakness rather than an advantage. On top of that was the continuation of the Peninsular campaign, a drain of troops and resources that Napoleon could ill afford as Russian troops continued to batter his main force. Napoleon also trusted people he definitely shouldn't have, such as Talleyrand. Napoleon had already caught Talleyrand playing both sides against each other for his own advantage. Napoleon did briefly remove Talleyrand from positions of influence, but later found himself relying on Talleyrand which would prove to be Napoleon's undoing. So I think Roberts's opinion of Napoleon for the whole of the book is fairly balanced. And like most people Napoleon is a mix of good and bad so it comes out complicated in the end.

Overall I think this book did a pretty good job of talking about Napoleon. Roberts uses a variety of sources and while he gushes about Napoleon at some points, he is equally hard on Napoleon at later points as well. It's a long book with a lot of information, but well worth the read to gain insight into the most influential figure at the start of the nineteenth century.

- Kalpar

Spain in Our Hearts, by Adam Hochschild

Today I'm looking at a history of the Spanish Civil War which specifically looks through the perspective of various American reporters and volunteers, as well as a handful of Brits. Ernest Hemmingway's dispatches from Spain are probably the most famous of these dispatches, with George Orwell's writings definitely in the same weight class. However, Hochschild utilizes the letters and diaries of ordinary volunteers, some of whom never managed to make it back home.

The Spanish Civil War was prompted by the election of a left-leaning coalition government of liberals, socialists, and communists. For years the ordinary people of Spain had struggled under the social and economic domination of the land-holding elites. In addition to the ever-popular topic of land reform, the republican government promoted a series of social and economic reforms that would improve the lot of common Spaniards and reduce the power of the big landowners and the Catholic Church. Unfortunately, a coalition of generals, eventually lead by Francisco Franco, led a military revolt against the Republican government and sought to reassert the power of the elites, the monarchy, and the Church. The following war lasted three bitter years, leaving thousands of people dead not only through combat but through disease, starvation, and political executions on both the Republican and Nationalist sides.

Aside from the toll it took on the Spanish people, the Spanish Civil War is important because of the international attention it received. Most importantly Mussolini and Hitler, eager to test new airplanes, tanks, and tactics, allied with Franco and dispatched troops and material to aid him. As a result the fascist powers gained experience that would prove extremely valuable in the early days of the Second World War, only a few months after the Spanish Civil War finally ended.

While Franco received aid from nations abroad and even the approbation of Pope Pius XII, the Republican government found themselves largely bereft. The western democracies of Britain, France, and the United States were unwilling to aid Republican Spain and often hampered or forbade the sale of arms and ammunition. In fact, the only country that provided aid in any significant quantities of the Soviet Union, and the communists would utilize this control on the purse strings to exert additional political control and launch their own purges within the Republican government. As a result the Spanish Civil War has become one of the great ''what if'' scenarios of the twentieth century. What if FDR had lifted the embargo on the sale of weapons to Republican Spain? What if the French had sent a few divisions across the Pyrenees to aid an ailing fellow Republic? The answer is, of course, unknowable, but it represents a great moment of when things should have been done in history.

Which makes the romance of the International Brigades all the greater. Composed of young men, some anarchists, some socialists, some communists, the International Brigades were forces of volunteers who often made their own way to Spain to fight for a cause they believed was vital. Undertrained and woefully underequipped, the International Brigades were thrown into the worst fighting of the Spanish Civil War and as a result saw the highest casualties out of any Republican units. Despite their doomed cause, the International Brigades represented the willingness of ordinary people to give their lives for their beliefs, even when they could have stayed home very comfortably and probably not be affected one way or the other.

Overall I thought this book was interesting. I knew very little about the Spanish Civil War so this was a useful introduction to this period of history for me. I also appreciate that we got to see perspectives beyond the most famous observers such as Hemmingway and Orwell. I definitely think this book is worth the time to check it out and learn about something American audiences might not know much about.

- Kalpar

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman, by Robert K. Massie

Today I'm looking at a biography of Catherine the Great, by far the most powerful and influential female ruler of the eighteenth century. Catherine was born a minor German princess with only the opportunities presented by marriage to improve her lot and satisfy her own ambitions. Married to the heir of the Russian Empire, Catherine embraced her adopted country including its language and religion, earning the respect and admiration of the Russian people. Just three months into her husband Peter's reign, members of the Russian nobility and army gathered around Catherine and supported her coup, establishing her as tsarina of Russia in her own right, and she ruled for over thirty years.

Like all historical figures, Catherine is complicated and not wholly good or bad as a person. In her younger years Catherine embraced the ideals of the Enlightenment and the theory of enlightened despotism, and Catherine actually sought to reform Russia's legal system as well as entertained ideas about the gradual abolition of serfdom. However as Catherine got older, dealt with the frustrations of running Russia, and witnessed the bloody beginnings of the French Revolution, Catherine became increasingly conservative and an even strong proponent of absolute monarchies. The result is a woman as complex as any other person in history.

Overall I think this biography was very good. Catherine was engaged in correspondence with many people at the time so we have a large number of primary sources to draw upon for research and Massie makes use of that. Not only Catherine's own correspondence, but writings from figures such as Voltaire, Frederick the Great, Diderot, and foreign ambassadors to Russia. We get an intimate look at Catherine and her life not only as a monarch but also as a person.

This book does spend considerable time talking about people and subjects other than Catherine, if only to provide necessary context. I remember there were rather lengthy bits talking about the life of her husband, Peter, and the French Revolution just to name a couple topics. Although this does take us away from the narrative of Catherine and her life story, I feel like Massie does make them tie to the life of Catherine so they feel relevant rather than additional information to pad out the book.

Overall I thought this biography was fairly well done. It criticizes Catherine, perhaps a little unfairly when it comes to her lovers, but it doesn't become too hagiographic in its praise either. What we see is a woman, trying to do the best for her country in the eighteenth century. She isn't always successful, but she tries pretty hard and definitely seems worthy of the moniker ''the Great''. If you're looking to learn more about Russian history or Catherine in specific (especially after watching the Extra History videos about Catherine) this is definitely a good book to read.

- Kalpar

The Tudors, by Peter Ackroyd

Today I'm looking at a history about by far the most infamous monarchs of England, the Tudors. The sheer amount of sex and violence surrounding this family has made them irresistible to not only academic historians, but popular historians of all stripes. Whether it be the more fanciful tv series The Tudors, William Shakespeare's equally fanciful plays, or any number of other historical dramas, the lives of the Tudors have been the subject of endless examination.

Peter Ackroyd's work is competent, if a little problematic at various points. It certainly meshes with all the other information I've read about this dynasty, especially books that I read for a class that focused just on the Tudors. Since this was an audio book I couldn't look at the sources but based on the quotations he utilizes, which is sources available to many other historians, I think Ackroyd gets his facts right so I have no quibbles on that. If you're looking for information about this dynasty this is definitely worth your time and effort as a general primer. My biggest issue seems to be Ackroyd's decisions of interpretation.

My first concern was the decision to start this history with Henry VIII instead of his father, Henry VII. Henry VII gets overlooked a lot, and compared to the scandal and outrage surrounding his son it's easy to see why. Henry VII merely defeated Richard III to become king, married Elizabeth of York, and was a tight-fisted administrator and hoarder of money, leaving his son a bursting treasury when Henry VIII succeeded his father. Henry VII can definitely be a boring individual. But at the same time I feel if you choose to ignore him you're missing an important and vital part of the Tudor story. Otherwise Ackroyd goes fairly well in depth.

The biggest issue I have is Ackroyd's argument that Protestantism was responsible for turning Britain into the imperial power it became. Ackroyd claims that because Britain threw off the superstition of Catholicism, it was able to make progress while other nations like France and Spain were held back. Personally I find this to be entirely inadequate for a number of reasons. First, France and Spain remained powerful colonial and industrial rivals with Britain into the eighteenth century and France remained a powerful rival into the nineteenth century. Furthermore there were Protestant nations which challenged Britain at various points but didn't become or remain global powers. The Netherlands, for example, was a powerful colonial force and challenged Great Britain at various points, but declined in power into the eighteenth century. Sweden and Denmark were also strong Protestant states, but neither of them reached the colonial and economic power of Great Britain by any means. To claim that religion alone was responsible for Britain's greatness is definitely insufficient.

Aside from these issues, I thought this book did a pretty good job talking about England's most salacious dynasty. If you're looking for just general information this is definitely a good choice.

- Kalpar

Joan of Arc: A History, by Helen Castor

Today I'm looking at a semi-biography of Joan of Arc. I say this is a semi-biography because since Joan was really only in the public eye for a few years before she was executed for heresy, it's really hard to give more than a brief summary of her life. Otherwise the lives of ordinary peasant girls in late medieval France are largely unrecorded and we can only make best guesses. Of course, the life of Joan grows far more complicated because of the hundreds of years of mythology and symbolism that have grown up around her and in some ways taken away her humanity by putting her on a level above ordinary human beings.

Castor acknowledges this problem and so the book is not so much a biography of Joan as much as it's an attempt to put Joan into context. As she explicitly states, we do not follow Joan from her life in rural France and her journey to Chinon. Instead, we follow the movers and shakers of French politics for many years and are with Charles VII when Joan arrives at Chinon. And after Joan's trial and execution, we see not only the final stages of the Hundred Years War, but the afterlife Joan has enjoyed into the modern era.

Castor does an excellent job of setting the scene of fifteenth century France, torn between three factions. The French themselves were split into two factions, attempting to control the mentally ill Charles VI and, by extension, power at court. On the one hand were the Armagnac faction, eventually led by Prince Charles the dauphin of France who would become Charles VII, and on the other hand the Burgundian faction led by first John the Fearless and then his son Phillip, both Dukes of the increasingly autonomous region of Burgundy. Burgundy sat on the border between France and the Holy  Roman Empire and owned land technically within both countries. On top of this the Dukes of Burgundy had extensive territories and interests in the Low Countries which tied them economically with the wool trade of the English. So what was good for Burgundy wasn't always what was good for France and created increased tension and outright violence between the dukes and their monarchs.

Exploiting this factionalism among the French, the English monarchs pressed their own competing claims for the French throne and managed to make extensive gains in Normandy while the French fought amongst themselves. Victories such as Agincourt, where outnumbered English archers and infantry absolutely massacred armies of French knights, created an aura of invincibility around the English army and their warrior-king Henry V. Even with Henry's death by a fever, the French had a strong fear of going against the apparently unconquerable English and when the city of Orleans was besieged by the English, it seemed only a matter of time before they would gain this crucial crossing of the Loire and advance into the strongholds of  the Armagnac faction.

When Joan arrived at Chinon, declaring she had been sent by God to ensure Charles would be crowned and anointed King of France with the holy Oil of Clovis, it caused a good deal of consternation. Some people believed her, some people didn't, but almost nobody was sure what to do with her. After considerable debate among theologians it was concluded that if Joan was truly sent by God to save France, then she would accomplish a sign. As the city of Orleans needed to be relieved from its besiegers and an army would have been sent there anyway, this was deemed an appropriate task for Joan to accomplish. If she failed, well no harm done and at least they tried to save Orleans. But if she succeeded, then perhaps God had finally come to save the most Christian kingdom on earth.

As Castor depicts it, and as I've read in some other sources, the biggest asset Joan had was as a morale booster for the highly discouraged French forces. French armies that should have been victorious on the field of battle had been utterly routed by numerically inferior English forces. An army that goes into battle expecting to lose will almost certainly find a way to lose regardless of any advantages. But with Joan, who claimed to have been sent by God to redeem France and expel the hated English, the French armies were able to believe they actually stood a chance at victory. Once Joan was victorious not only at Orleans, but at other battles as well, it is small surprise that the French began to believe they were now invincible and the English feared to face against any army headed by Joan. It is small surprise that the English and their allies were incredibly pleased when Joan was captured and engaged in an extensive heresy trial to remove Joan from the equation entirely.

What is remarkable about Joan, aside from her ability to win against the English, is the very fact that she is remembered today. Fifteenth century France certainly wasn't short on mystics, holy seers, or other individuals who claimed a mission from God. Joan enjoyed some brief success, but she suffered some failures as well and was condemned by the Catholic Church as a heretic and burned at the stake. It seems almost odd that Joan has remained not only in the popular consciousness but became as saint of the Roman Catholic Church as well. Perhaps it was because Joan's trial for heresy, and then twenty-five years later the trial overturning that decision of heresy, were such big news in their eras that Joan's legacy has endured. Certainly Jan Huss, whose followers had as great an effect in Bohemia as Joan had in France, is less well known among Americans. Perhaps it was ultimately just one of those accidents of history which we may never truly understand. But five hundred years later it is still difficult to sort out Joan the person from Joan the saint.

- Kalpar

The King's Bed: Sex and Power in the Court of Charles II, by Don Jordan & Michael Walsh

Today I'm looking at a biography of Charles II of Britain, who did quite a lot to earn the sobriquet of The Merry Monarch. I mean, this man was an absolute party animal to the point Horrible Histories did a rap song about how much he partied. Oh, and while I'm at it, this is also the monarch who rewarded the man who attempted to steal the crown jewels. Yes. Seriously. This was a person who was monarch of Britain. For twenty-five years. So there's a certain morbid fascination with Charles II's reign and the sheer excesses he indulged in and, as Jordan and Walsh illustrate, Charles II became little more than a puppet of Louis XIV of France towards the end of his reign, his lavish lifestyle propped up by extensive subsidies from the French treasury. Interestingly enough, Charles II's most lasting legacy is the numerous bastard children he sired on his many, many mistresses, a significant number of whom he lavished titles and estates. As a result a significant number of the upper crust in Britain today can trace their ancestry back to him.

This book's focus is mostly on the numerous affairs and libertine lifestyle of Charles II and his relationship with his numerous mistresses throughout his life, although it covers his life from beginning to end, with some slight context before and afterwards. Charles grew up into the events of the English Civil War and was forced as he entered adolescence to flee to France with his mother, while his father was executed by Oliver Cromwell and other Roundheads. For years Charles lived in exile, dependent on the charity of the French court and other nobles for his support and, rather than studying statecraft or other subjects, Charles threw himself into hedonistic excess. The result, when Cromwell finally died and Charles was restored to the throne as Charles II, was that he was largely uninterested in the actual management of the kingdom so long as his lavish lifestyle could be supported.

If there are any great achievements of Charles II's reign, I honestly can't say I know what they are. Jordan and Walsh briefly mention the establishment of the Royal Society and the Greenwich Observatory under Charles's reign, but in their text they choose to focus on his sex life and spendthrift habits, as well as somewhat disastrous foreign policy. Perhaps there were some things of positive significance which Charles managed to accomplish while he was king, but the book makes only passing mention to them. The result is a very long and somewhat repetitive story of Charles falling in love with various mistresses, the bestowing of extraordinary gifts unto his paramours which cuts deeply into his cash reserves, and then the public outcry at the behavior which had left the crown destitute. Honestly I got the impression that for the entire time he was king, Charles never really stopped being the feckless playboy, at least as Jordan and Walsh depict it.

In many ways, the disastrous foreign policy during the reign of Charles II was a result of his extravagant lifestyle. In addition to bestowing expensive gifts outright, Charles also often picked up the gambling debts of his favorite mistresses and would bestow upon favorites incomes from certain taxes. Thus revenue that should have been going to the Exchequer were being given directly to countless courtiers and mistresses, further decreasing the king's income. Not to mention that in one example Jordan and Walsh provide, when Parliament demanded to know what had happened to some five million pounds they had granted the king, only half of that sum could be accounted for. Because of these spendthrift habits, Charles decided to mothball some of the strongest and most expensive ships in the Royal Navy, which certainly contributed to the disaster of the Second Anglo-Dutch War and the burning or capture of many of those mothballed ships in harbor by a Dutch raiding force.

Ultimately Charles's need for more money would push him closer and closer to Louis XIV and into the arms of Louise Renee de Panancoet de Kerouaille, a woman sent to England expressly to lure Charles to her bed. Through extensive financial support and control of Charles II, France was able to assure British neutrality as they extended their influence into regions such as Alsace and Flanders, much to the frustration of the more anti-French factions in British politics at the time. As Jordan and Walsh conclude Charles II ended up as little more than a figurehead while Louis XIV decided what British policy truly would be.

Overall this book is interesting, if it gets somewhat repetitive. Charles doesn't seem to change terribly much as a person through his reign as king, and even from his life before his accession to the throne. Depending on your views of sexual morality and financial responsibility Charles can seem a lovable scoundrel or an embarrassment to the monarchy and best forgotten. I'm left with the impression that Charles's reign was filled with flash and glamor, but utterly lacking in substance.

- Kalpar

Magna Carta: The Birth of Liberty, by Dan Jones

Today I'm looking at another book from Dan Jones, in this case Magna Carta: The Birth of Liberty, which was written as part of the celebrations last year over the eight-hundredth anniversary of the issuance of Magna Carta by King John of England in 1215. To historians, though, the excitement over Magna Carta seems largely misplaced. Put within the context of the era, it was an attempt at a negotiated peace between King John and his rebelling barons, a peace which did not last a month before John was repudiating Magna Carta and trying to exert his will over his barons once again. Furthermore Magna Carta is overwhelmingly concerned with the rights of the nobility concerning the king and the limited rights it granted freemen, as Jones points out, would have affected maybe twenty percent of England's entire population in 1215. Jones argues rather eloquently that the Fourth Lateran Council, which condemned trial by ordeal, should be more remembered than Magna Carta. And yet somehow this obscure document has earned an almost sacred status.

The majority of the book focuses on putting Magna Carta within the proper historical context. As Jones is a medieval historian this makes a lot of sense because that's the subject that he's studied the most and has the most expertise talking about. Jones does a very good job of explaining the history of heavy-handed governance and taxation, started by Henry II and Richard I to finance their perpetual wars, which finally came to a head under the less successful and less charismatic John. Jones does spend time going into subjects such as medieval siegecraft which give a fuller understanding of the story, but may not entirely relate to Magna Carta specifically. And since I've already listened to The Plantagenets from the same author, who of course covers Magna Carta in that book as well, a lot of the subject matter was review for me.

Ultimately I did find myself wishing that Jones had spent more time talking about the evolution of Magna Carta in the intervening eight hundred years and why it has developed such a significance. When pointing out that it is mostly a medieval document concerned with issues such as scutage and feudal inheritances, it seems very strange indeed that Magna Carta has such significance today. The last chapter of the book very briefly covers how Magna Carta went from an embarrassment best ignored by the sixteenth century, to a key constitutional argument for opponents of Charles I's attempts at absolute royal authority during the English Civil War. Even as the numerous clauses in Magna Carta became obsolete, principles such as trial by jury, due process of law, and a vague notion of representation in exchange for taxation, became part of English tradition, as well as the traditions of numerous countries settled by English colonists. This is a huge subject which could be its own book, or even multiple books, but I think it would be interesting to listen to or read about.

I think if you've already read The Plantagenets or even seen Monarchy with David Starkey (who actually taught Dan Jones!) then you'll find a lot of the stuff in Magna Carta a review because it talks mostly about John's reign more than anything else. It's still very good writing from Jones who is becoming one of my other favorite English historians and if you want a much shorter book focusing just on this subject matter then this is a good choice. But I still recommend The Plantagenets over this one.

- Kalpar

The Romanovs, by Simon Sebag Montefiore

This week I'm taking another look at the field of Russian history with a biography on the Romanov dynasty, the family that ruled as tsars in Russia for about three hundred years until the Russian Revolution of 1917. Needless to say this is a very long book because it has to deal not only with the tsars and tsarinas but the various ministers and the various situations in Europe which Russia had to respond to, with varying degrees of success. Although the Romanovs ultimately fell to violent revolution, Montefiore says they were successful in expanding Russia's territory consistently during their reign and maintaining an increasingly multi-ethnic empire which by the end had Russians as a plurality. As successful as they were, the biggest issue seems to be that the Romanovs did not change enough with the times and were relying on antiquated theories and systems of government which simply could not maintain the Russian Empire during World War I.

I will say this book wasn't perfect and there were some issues that I had. First of all the book is incredibly Euro-centric in its focus, which I think is a weakness when talking about Russia which straddles two continents. Ultimately Russia's policy in Asia was influenced by events in Europe, and events in Asia influenced their policy in Europe. To leave out Asia almost entirely is to tell just one half of the story. Furthermore the expansion into Siberia and Manchuria were major parts of Russian expansion during the Romanov years and to leave it out feels like talking about American history but leaving out half the United States.

Montefiore also seems to be strangely fixated on the sexual habits of the Romanovs, whether a devoted couple such as Nicholas II and Alexandra, or the numerous affairs of individuals such as Alexander I and Catherine the Great. It does humanize the Romanovs and make the reading less dry than it could have been, but I feel like he's trying to expose the Romanovs as an entire dynasty of extreme sexual deviants. Frankly, I'd have been more surprised if they hadn't had an insane number of affairs and illegitimate children. These things are practically an obligation for royalty during these time periods. So maybe some people enjoy having the Romanovs' dirty laundry aired, so to speak, but it felt like a weird obsession of Montefiore's to me more than anything else.

The strongest theme I noticed was the dependency on the authority of the tsar. When Tsar Michael Romanov acceded the throne in 1613, the tsar was an absolute monarch with complete authority over his subjects only limited by the assent of the boyars who were fairly supportive. Three hundred years later very little had changed in Russia. Despite numerous attempts at reform and to shift the increasing burden of managing a continent-spanning empire onto multiple, capable shoulders, numerous tsars, most specifically Alexander III and Nicholas II, resisted such attempts as attacks on their royal power. The tsars were still trying to rule from the principle of divine right of kings, something most of the rest of the world had discarded for a century.

By putting so much emphasis and power on the tsar, the fate of Russia also became highly dependent on the competency of the respective tsar or tsarina. Things work very well under intelligent rulers such as Peter the Great or Catherine the Great (hence their sobriquets), and Alexander II was, as Montefiore puts it, probably the best-prepared heir in Romanov history. But under weak rulers such as Paul or Peter III the situation quickly deteriorates and unrest spreads, which proved to be fatal in the course of Peter III. By the later years even though Nicholas II was a man of moderate intelligence who might have served competently in a more limited capacity, the sheer number and scope of crises facing him, as well as the stress of managing a massive empire, meant he simply wasn't able to pull the Romanov dynasty through World War I successfully. Even a Peter of Catherine would have been sorely challenged by the problems Nicholas II faced.

Ultimately I think this was a good look at an influential European ruling family which I didn't know terribly much about and I was glad to increase my knowledge in this area. Despite its size, this book has limits and we're not getting the whole story. But for three hundred years of history Montefiore does a pretty good job. Definitely worth checking out if you're interested in the subject.

- Kalpar

The Third Horseman: Climate Change and the Great Famine of the 14th Century, by William Rosen

This week I'm talking about The Third Horseman, a book ostensibly about the Great Famine, an event in the early fourteenth century with widespread food shortages in Europe caused by a variety of factors which is often overlooked because of the Black Death which appeared a few decades later. I say ostensibly because this book feels only partially about the Great Famine for most of the time. Instead Rosen spends a considerable amount of time talking about the reigns of Kings Edward I and Edward II of England and their on-again-off-again wars with the Scottish. Rosen tries to tie this to agriculture and how the wars exacerbated the Great Famine in England, except the Great Famine affected much of northern Europe, which was almost always in varying degrees of conflict. And he spends considerably less time talking about France, Germany, the Low Countries and Scandinavia where the famine was equally harsh. The result is very disappointing and feels like another history of England's wars with Scotland.

What I found most interesting was the parts where Rosen actually talked about medieval agriculture. I know, I know, that's a really weird thing to be interested in but I went into this book hoping to expand something I knew very little to nothing about whatsoever. Rosen goes into some detail about the European diet, heavily based on cereal grains, and argues medieval agriculture had become more and more tenuous through the Medieval Warm Period. For those of you that aren't aware, the Medieval Warm Period was a centuries-long period of increased average temperatures experienced by Northern Europe from about the ninth to the fourteenth century C.E. Reasons behind it are still not entirely understood, and as far as they can tell it was an event localized to Europe rather than a global phenomenon. Equally mysteriously, the Medieval Warm Period was followed by what's referred to as the Little Ice Age, an era where temperatures returned to much cooler levels in Europe.

Rosen argues that during the Medieval Warm Period, warmer temperatures and more reliable weather made cultivation of land not optimal for cereal cultivation more profitable. Increased food led to increased population, which pushed further demand for increased cultivation until more and more marginal lands were under cultivation. However, once the weather patterns of Europe changed, with cooler and wetter summers, these lands no longer produced sufficient food for the population. This problem was further exacerbated by land exhaustion as fields were used repeatedly for the cultivation of wheat, a nitrogen-intensive crop, which led to more decreases in yields. Plus the constant warfare which entailed raiding and burning crops made a bad situation much, much worse.

Rosen also tries to argue that certain social structures, feudalism being a big example, were a result of the Medieval Warm Period and increased agriculture. I feel like this argument doesn't stand up as well because, at least from my understanding, feudalism was largely a response to the limitations of the era which required localized administration, government, and defense. Of course there's ongoing debate among medievalists about what exactly feudalism was because it has become a sort of catch-all term and while it's portrayed in medieval Europe as a neat and tidy pyramid, the truth is far more complicated.

The biggest impression I got, though, was that Rosen wasn't really interested in writing about the Great Famine. Yes, it and agriculture and the Medieval Warm Period are all part of the story, but he spends far more time talking about Edward I, Robert the Bruce, and Edward II than about agriculture. I was left with the feeling Rosen really wanted to talk about that instead, and agriculture was just sort of a supplement rather than being the main topic of conversation. Numerous chapters are devoted to the wars between the English and Scottish while the history of Germany and the Holy Roman Empire during this era gets shoved into one chapter. If Rosen wanted to talk about the English and Scottish wars, that's fine. I just wish he'd have titled the book about that instead.

My biggest complaint ultimately is the book doesn't feel like it's really about what it's ostensibly about. The parts about agriculture and the Medieval Warm Period are interesting, but they just make up far too small a part of the book for the book to really be about that. If you want a book about the Plantagenets, then I recommend the book by Dan Jones more than this one.

- Kalpar

Kepler's Witch, by James A. Connor

This week I'm reading a biography of astronomer Johannes Kepler, who actually isn't terribly well known despite his contributions to mathematics and astronomy. In the introduction Connor makes a point that Kepler has largely been overshadowed by figures such as Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton. Connor points out that while Galileo is held up as a prime example of scientists being persecuted by religion, Kelper was also persecuted for his religious beliefs. Furthermore, while Kepler did not fully create the laws of gravity and integral calculus which are among Newton's chief achievements, he did much of the necessary intellectual groundwork which allowed Newton to create his own work. Not to mention Kepler's contributions to the fields of optics. Connor's hypothesis is that Kepler is simply too mystical a figure, bridging both the medieval and modern worlds, trying to find the mind of god within the workings of the natural world. Connor argues that while Newton had his own mystical streak, he kept it isolated from his scientific research. Kepler, on the other hand, saw no division and freely mixed science and mysticism making him, at least to Connor's understanding, less palatable to modern audiences. Regardless of his mystical proclivities, Kepler is an excellent example of how science is largely an incremental affair with multiple people making gradual progress over time, rather than single individuals making great, intuitive leaps.

The book omits almost all of Kepler's scientific achievements, instead choosing to focus on Kepler's life outside of science. I actually kind of regretted this decision because I don't know much about Kepler's scientific achievements and I really wished they'd been included. The author did include some suggested readings for more information about Kepler's science but it makes the book feel incomplete in a way. The title comes from the fact Kepler's own mother was accused of witchcraft and actually put on trial at the same time Kepler was imperial mathematician. Connor believes this makes a perfect example of many ways how Kepler's life serves as a bridge between the medieval and modern worlds.

So what is the portrait of Kepler that emerges? Connor makes extensive use of Kepler's journals and correspondence to provide information about his life and the image is rather admirable. Kepler, based on Connor's account anyway, is a fairly moderate man who was not very dogmatic in matters of religion. Kepler believed in the supremacy of the personal conscience, as well as the brotherhood of all Christians. This attitude would get him excommunicated from his own Lutheran faith, which he remained faithful to for the rest of his life, and would keep him away from the Catholic church as well. Despite repeated attempts by Jesuits to convert him and the numerous career advantages he might have gained by converting. Kepler appears not overly concerned with fine points of theological doctrine, instead content to measure the stars and calculate the orbits of the planets for the greater glory of god.

If Kepler has any faults, it is his dogmatic belief in Platonic ideals, believing that there are certain geometric shapes in nature which are inherently perfect, and therefore beautiful, and therefore god would use them to build the universe. This sort of mysticism comes up from time to time in Kepler's work, although it's hard to say how much so and Connor tends to downplay it. Connor also makes strong emphasis of the fact that while Kepler did practice astrology, like virtually every other astronomer at the time period, he did not buy terribly much into it and often said the stars would not reveal detailed information about the future, instead general trends or characteristics and the mind of god. And there seems to be enough evidence to suggest Kepler took a half-hearted approach to astrology at best.

I am sort of split on the inclusion of context within the narrative of Kepler's life. The very last years of Kepler's life were embroiled in the first parts of the Thirty Years War, one of Europe's last big religious wars, and Connor goes into some detail about the political machinations behind the war as well as the opening battles. Connor also talks about important figures such as Emperor Rudolf II who first gave Kepler his position as Imperial Mathematician. I'm at a bit of a disadvantage because I know some of this contextual information from studying this period before, an advantage not all other readers would have. But there is some information that feels blatantly like padding, such as the myth about the founding of the city of Prague, which is put in just because there wasn't enough information about Kepler. I feel that including Kepler's scientific work might have been better included.

Overall it's an interesting book and Kepler comes across as an interesting, if underappreciated figure who helped make advances in the Scientific Revolution. The book gets very sidetracked at times, something I kind of wish it hadn't, but the inclusion of primary sources is appreciated. I do have some reservations, wondering if Kepler was cleaned up for more modern, secular audiences, but without more reading I can't say for certain.

- Kalpar

Double Cross, by Ben MacIntyre

This week I'm looking at another bit about the history of espionage during World War II, although in this case from the British perspective and MI-5 and MI-6 with the Double Cross system. Which quite frankly is one of the most astounding and incredible stories of World War II and, considering how many bungles seemed to happen with espionage during World War II, by and far the most successful example. This book focuses specifically on five of the more fantastic spies, although the Double Cross system included dozens of people working to bamboozle the Germans into thinking they had a functional spy system within Britain. When in fact every German spy in Britain was under British control, one way or another.

A Yugoslavian playboy, a bisexual Venezuelan good-time girl, a Polish military veteran, the French daughter of a White Russian emigre, and a Spanish chicken farmer. It sounds like the lead-in to a fantastic joke, and considering they fooled the entire German intelligence apparatus it kind of was. Of course these weren't the only agents in the Double Cross system but MacIntyre focuses specifically on these five, who are probably the most interesting and in a couple cases they were the most influential in shaping German opinions of Allied strength during the war. But before I go further, some context.

The Double Cross system was an initiative put in place by the British, who have a long history of spying and were probably the best spies during World War II, to capture and control German spies. Thanks to the breaking of the Enigma code by researchers at Bletchley Park, MI-5 had advanced notice of every German agent being sent into the country and they were quickly captured. Many were imprisoned, some were executed, and a select few were chosen to become double agents to feed information back to the Germans and convince them they had a strong enough intelligence network on the ground that they didn't need to send any more spies into Britain. Perhaps most interestingly numerous people were initially recruited by the Germans to spy for them and then, whether out of idealism, greed, self-preservation, or other motivations these spies then immediately turned themselves in to British Intelligence and offered to become double agents in service to Britain. Or in the case of Juan Pujol, the Spanish chicken farmer, he attempted to get recruited by the British numerous times and, having been rebuffed, signed on with the Abwher and began fabricating information wholesale. The British, alarmed by this spy they didn't control, soon recruited Pujol into their ranks which was his goal the entire time and he continued to deceive the Germans.

The most amazing thing about the Double Cross system was that it worked for so long as well as it did. Up until the end of the war there were numerous Germans who were convinced they had functional intelligence networks in Britain. But in a way, we have the Abwehr to thank for that success. The Abwehr was Germany's intelligence arm during World War II and was absolutely filled with people who were gullible, incompetent, corrupt, or just plain lazy. Joining the Abwehr was an easy way to avoid active military duty and pleasant postings such as Madrid or Lisbon were especially desirable. Many Abwehr agents indulged themselves with the finer things in life rather than getting involved with the actual work of spying, which made Double Cross's job that much easier. On top of that there were numerous people within the Abwehr who were actively working to undermine the Nazi regime. This includes perhaps even its chief director, although his motivations were never truly known before his death. The Double Cross plan was audacious and ultimately successful, probably in no small part to the Abwehr's disinclination to do any actual spying work.

The ultimate plan came with Operation Fortitude, a plan of deception to keep the Germans from correctly surmising where the inevitable Allied invasion of Europe would begin. In concert with military counter-intelligence teams, the Double Cross team created the illusion of two entire armies located in the south east and east of England, threatening Norway, Denmark, and the Pas de Calais across the Straits of Dover. If any information about an attack at Normandy was leaked at all, the Germans were made to believe it would be a diversionary attack in prelude to the main thrust at Calais. Amazingly, despite numerous problems right before D-Day in June of 1944, Double Cross was able to convince the Germans that this was merely a diversion for several weeks, tying down numerous German reinforcements that could have smashed the Allied beachhead before they could consolidate. By the time Germans were sending reinforcements to Normandy, the Allies had already secured their position and were advancing into France.

In hindsight this book is kind of short, talking only about five major characters and the people who interact with them, as well as some other examples of deception by the British during World War II which influenced German decision making. But overall I think it's pretty good. You definitely get a sense of just how downright amazing this program was and how surprising it is that it managed to last for as long as it did. It's definitely a very broad overview rather than going into specific details, but I like general overviews as a rule so I ended up liking it. I also was absolutely astounded at how lazy, incompetent, or just stupid the Germans were and was glad we really lucked out when it came to that. It's an interesting part of World War II that doesn't get talked about terribly much and definitely worth reading.

- Kalpar

The History of the Medieval World: From the Conversion of Constantine to the First Crusade, by Susan Wise Bauer

This week I'm taking a look at another incredibly ambitious book, The History of the Medieval World. Although this week's book deals with only about seven  or eight hundred years of history, opposed to last week's two thousand years, it's still fairly ambitious in its scope as it attempt to talk about everything going on in the world rather than focusing on say, just the pope. And yet at the same time the book feels somewhat inadequate because it takes an almost shotgun approach. I'm left wondering if this was meant to be a textbook for classes rather than a historical monograph considering how broad and shallow its focus is.

The word that best describes this book is ambitious, and I think in trying to at least touch upon absolutely everything over some seven centuries of history is an incredibly difficult task. The result is I feel like Bauer has bitten off more than she can chew because the results feel a little muddled. There's also an argument that surfaces from time to time in the book that religion becomes just one more tool of the state to wield power, starting with Constantine's incorporation of Christianity in the Roman Empire and Bauer argues reaches its ultimate denouement in the First Crusade. Now, to completely ignore religion during the Medieval period, especially the spread of Christianity and later the birth and spread of Islam, would be to completely ignore a key aspect of social and political structures during this time period. However, I don't think Bauer spends sufficient time making her arguments coherently and the inclusion of India, China, Korea, and Japan only muddy the waters further.

One of the areas where I felt Bauer got too ambitious was trying to include Asia in her analysis and a very limited analysis of the Americas as well. To be fair, traditional histories which are almost entirely reliant on written records are largely blind when it comes to American civilizations whose writings have largely been lost, destroyed, untranslated, or never existed in the first place. Much of our understanding of those civilizations comes from archaeological research, which involves more than a little guesswork. However the cultures of Asia did have writings during this time period and extremely rich and detailed history. While Bauer goes into these cultures at various points, the lion's share of focus seems to remain in Europe and the Mediterranean.

Now, are Euro-centric histories a problem? Yes. Europe has dominated ''standard histories'' for generations and trying to include cultures from across the globe into more standard history curricula is an ongoing challenge. After all, I know infinitely more about Europe than I can tell you about almost any other place on the globe. But it definitely feels like Asia as a continent gets less attention than Europe and the Americas get practically no attention at all. The fact that sub-Saharan Africa is excluded entirely from this narrative is particularly jarring. I honestly think the book might have been better served by focusing on the main area of interest: Europe.

A challenge I did have was also the sheer amount of names and information included in this book. When you're dealing with dozens of geographic locations, scores of countries, and hundreds of people it can be very difficult to keep track of them all. Especially when you're listening to the book rather than reading. That being said, I learned quite a few things, especially about places like the Byzantine Empire that I don't necessarily know too much about, which was pretty interesting. It's a very shallow overview, but there are some good things to learn in here.

Overall, the book's okay but I think it has a few problems. The religion as a tool of government argument crops up a couple of times but I feel like Bauer doesn't articulate her argument well enough to make it really stick. The inclusion of non-European cultures is nice, but they're largely presented in isolation of Europe rather than how they or Europe may have influenced each other. The inclusion feels incomplete and as I said, the lack of anything about Africa is especially concerning in light of what else is included. I can't think of any good overviews that throw their nets as broadly, but I can think of some that stay far more focused.

- Kalpar

Absolute Monarchs: A History of the Papacy, by John Julius Norwich

This week I'm talking about a book that covers the history of the papacy from its alleged foundation in the first century CE to the reign of the (then-current) pope Benedict XVI. To cover roughly two thousand years of history is no small task in and of itself. On top of that since the men who are elected pope are, usually, rather old men their reigns vary from in some cases a few weeks to equally rarely a few decades. The result is a bit of a whirlwind as Norwich attempts to give a very brief overview of the papacy over hundreds of years and also has to provide necessary historical context. The Great Schism, Investiture, the Italian Wars, and more are all mentioned at least briefly. And in the end I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with the result.

In terms of this being an overview, I think it's all right. I certainly haven't read many books on the history of the papacy, aside from perhaps the Investiture dispute with the Holy Roman Emperor and the Crusades. So there are plenty of things I wasn't aware of that I learned about from this book. As I said, it's very much a whirlwind view because entire books can be written about just a short period of time or just one pope. So while Norwich doesn't go terribly deep in a lot of places, he certainly manages to be very broad throughout.

Plus it's pretty interesting to see, at least as Norwich argues it, how the papacy moves from being just a spiritual power to also being a temporal power because of the overall breakdown of government in the western Roman Empire as various Germanic tribes begin to move into the area. I definitely get the impression that it started purely as something out of necessity and then became a bit of a bad habit as time went on. Although it's also frustrating to see the papacy struggling to remain relevant in a changing world and as Norwich presents it, seeing it fail more often than not in that quest.

My biggest concern is I'm not sure exactly how impartial Norwich is during his writing of this book. He seems to veer very strangely between deep respect and unmitigated scorn for the papacy throughout the book, and weirdly enough he takes almost opposite positions on a couple of the more famous popes. What I first noticed was his almost absolute assumption that St. Peter was a real person and actually the first Bishop of Rome. Or at least he presents the tradition that assumes St. Peter was the first Bishop of Rome as close to historical fact, which makes discerning his own opinion difficult. Personally I cannot say for certain whether St. Peter existed or not, and whether he went to Rome and became Bishop or not. Or if, as tradition maintains, he was crucified upside down. (Fun note, an inverted cross is a symbol of absolute humility before Christ, rather than of the anti-Christ. Although considering people use it as a symbol for Satan/the anti-Christ/whathaveyou I guess you could debate it has become such a symbol de facto.) Anyway, as one of those pesky atheists I don't tend to swallow such traditions as absolute definite fact and it bothers me to have it presented as such. But that's just my own personal hold up.

Another good example is his section about Alexander III. For those of you who aren't aware, Alexander III was one of the Borgia popes and was well known for his immorality and extravagances, including numerous parties with the prostitutes of Rome. Jesus may have eaten with sinners and tax collectors, but I hardly think that was what he had in mind. Generally speaking, Alexander III goes down as one of the ''bad'' popes; regardless of how much art he may have sponsored, the man still had people assassinated. However, Norwich advances an argument that Alexander III wasn't all that bad. He points to the art as one example, and also points to numerous things Alexander III did to make the papacy one of the modern Italian states involved in the various Italian wars between France, Spain, the Austrian Hapsburgs, and Sicily. However I think this largely depends on whether you see this as a good thing or a bad thing. If you're merely looking at the Papal States as a nation, this organization of power and ability to influence big players certainly looks good. But if you're looking at the Papal States as the moral and spiritual leader of Europe, then this is a very bad case because the papacy becomes just one more state among many jockeying for power.

A more recent example is Pius XII, who was pope during World War II and after his death was put on the fast track for sainthood, although his case appears to have stalled at beatification. Pius XII has been the subject of some controversy because of his fairly muted indictment of the Nazis during the war, especially when there's strong evidence Pius XII was aware that atrocities and crimes against humanity were being committed. Norwich for his part takes Pius XII to task and boldly accuses Pius of anti-Semitism and other forms of bigotry. He also portrays Pius as a bitter reactionary, refusing to modernize the Church as society continues to develop in new and sometimes unanticipated ways. On the other hand, there hasn't been any strong arguments made by the Church against Pius which would prevent him from attaining sainthood, given sufficient miracles. People also tend to argue that while Pius would have liked to speak out against the Nazis, he simply wasn't in a position to do so, being surrounded by Mussolin's fascist Italy and effectively under siege. Honestly I don't know enough about the man to say one way or the other and I think I'm ultimately more confused than I was.

And getting even more recently, Norwich is not above calling John Paul II for a variety of his policies, such as his vehemence against birth control, his policy of anti-communism, and as Norwich describes it, his attempt to saint everything that moves. Norwich gets especially testy on the sainthood subject, pointing out that John Paul II created more saints during his term as pope than all the popes of the last five hundred years had done combined. Norwich seems to be genuinely offended that so many saints were created, and he seems to believe that it has cheapened the institution of sainthood. And criticizing John Paul II certainly comes with a fair amount of controversy, considering how well-loved John Paul II was in life despite his various shortcomings.

Ultimately I'm left with some serious doubts about this book. Norwich doesn't seem terribly unbiased as a historian which is probably shading his interpretations and narrative, but how much I can't really say because I'm by no means an expert on the subject. It's certainly ambitious in its scope and its attempt to cover the entire papacy, but I'm worried it falls short.

- Kalpar

Battle For the North: The Tay and Forth Bridges and the 19th Century Railway Wars, by Charles McKean

So as I've already said numerous times on this site and will probably say again, I'm a little bit obsessed with trains. The result is that I ultimate spend an inordinate amount of time reading books about trains and then blogging about them here. Anyway, this week I'm looking at another railroad history book, in this case Battle For the North, which specifically talks about the railroad rivalry between the Caledonian and North British Railways in Scotland in the mid to late nineteenth century. At the center of this narrative, however, is the Tay Bridge Disaster, which McKean focuses a lot of his resources upon. In a way, it feels almost like two books that have been welded together rather than one.

For those of you that aren't familiar with the history, the Tay Bridge Disaster of 1879 was a horrible accident where the bridge across the Tay Estuary in Scotland collapsed on a windy December night while a train was crossing it. Somewhere around seventy people died as the train plunged into the icy water below and it became sensational news at the time, seen as Victorian engineering being brought down for its hubris. There has been significant debate afterwards, of course, as to what exactly caused the bridge to collapse. The engineer who designed the bridge, Thomas Bouch, was condemned by a minority report from the Board of Trade Inquiry, which became the popular explanation. In this book, McKean seeks to explain why the bridge collapsed and rehabilitate Bouch.

The biggest problem I had with this book was that McKean tries to place the Tay Bridge's construction, collapse, demolition, and reconstruction, into the larger context of the fierce competition between the Caledonian and North British Railways, who sought to become the railway operating in Scotland. Although the competition between the lines explains why the North British decided to bridge not only the Tay but eventually also the Forth Estuaries, no small feats in and of themselves, I feel like the Tay narrative is almost a story apart from the competitive story between the North British and the Caledonian. I respect and appreciate McKean's efforts to place the entire story into context, but the preceding and following chapters feel somewhat unconnected.

The Tay Bridge gets the most focus in the book, with chapters on its construction, its fall, the inquiry into its collapse, and the eventual reconstruction. McKean's main effort, as I said, is to rehabilitate Bouch who has been castigated for the bridge collapse and provide alternate explanations for the disaster. McKean does bring up a good point that if the bridge design and construction had been completely inadequate, why did only the thirteen High Girders, the central part of the bridge, collapse when the rest of the bridge remained intact through the gale? If Bouch's design had been entirely inadequate for wind resistance, or the materials used inferior, shouldn't the entire bridge have collapsed? These are excellent points, but McKean fails to provide a satisfactory explanation for the facts. It cannot be refuted that the materials utilized for the bridge were inferior, with numerous severe problems recorded at the foundry where the cast iron parts were produced, which reflects badly on Bouch as he at least failed to place competent administrators in charge of the foundry work. Inadequate and improper maintenance was perhaps partially to blame, but that's more the fault of the North British administration who oversaw the maintenance of the bridge. But what caused the collapse?

McKean advances the theory, which Bouch himself supported, that the second class passenger carriage of the train jumped the track and with the guard van jumped the track and slammed into the girders, causing the structure to topple over. McKean argues that one of the high girder piers, which had actually collapsed in a storm during construction and had been re-erected, had been fatally weakened and warped, allowing the second class carriage to jump the track in the first place. Although this is possible, the evidence that McKean is able to marshal for this hypothesis is circumstantial at best, perhaps most critically pieces of wood with tell-tale grooves left by the wheels of the passenger carriage which are reported by eyewitnesses, but were burned as fuel within hours of being recovered from the ocean leaving no solid evidence. As I'm not an engineer I'm not really able to provide my own hypothesis. I have a vague idea that maybe the High Girders, which had their girder truss on top of the bridge rather than below to provide more clearance for ships, were too top heavy, but I have no evidence or skill to prove this beyond a vague supposition. Ultimately because the evidence was recovered hastily with a view towards reopening the shipping channel rather than forensic investigation, the answer will probably remain unknown.

By contrast, the construction of the Forth Bridge, a massive truss and cantilever edifice which still stands to this day, receives only one chapter. It certainly seemed to be plagued by less problems than the original Tay Bridge construction and as it has withstood the elements for over a century there has been no scandal of its collapse. The book ends with a strange chapter on races between London and Aberdeen taken between the Caledonian and North British Railways, but it's an event that occurred over a few summer months and ended just as abruptly. McKean condemns the competition as ultimately wasteful because it resulted in little more than a tie.

Overall this book is...okay at best. It's an interesting look into railway practices in the nineteenth century and I rather enjoyed the revelation that British railways weren't necessarily run any better than their American counterparts. However in trying to talk about railroad competition and the Tay Bridge, it feels like McKean pushed two potentially separate books together into one. Finally I find McKean's efforts to excuse Bouch of any and all wrongdoing is protesting a little too much and I think we may never know for certain why exactly the bridge collapsed.

- Kalpar

Waterloo: The True Story of Four Days, Three Armies, and Three Battles, by Bernard Cornwell

This week I'm taking a look at another book about the historic battle of Waterloo, in this case a book from historical novelist Bernard Cornwell. Before I get into the review I should preface this by saying that although Cornwell is the creator of the famous Sharpe series and does write a novel in which Richard Sharpe fights at the Battle of Waterloo, this book is not a historical novel. Instead it is a historical text, albeit somewhat short, in which Cornwell makes use of his considerable research to talk about one of the most studied battles in history. Cornwell himself somewhat undermines his book in the preface by stating that the subject of Waterloo's been studied numerous times and there have been perhaps countless books written on the subject before. However Cornwell argues that because Waterloo is such a fascinating battle he believes retelling the story is well worth the effort.

Inevitably, I am going to be contrasting Cornwell's work with the book written by Hamilton-Williams which I reviewed some time ago. One of the biggest contrasts I saw was that Hamilton-Williams puts a large amount of emphasis on the scale model of the Battle of Waterloo which he asserts has greatly influenced historical interpretation of the Battle in the years since. Cornwell mentions the model towards the end of the book and says Wellington believed it actually overstated the importance of the Prussians at the battle. But Cornwell points out that by the time the model was created Wellington had soured somewhat and so was willing to downplay the achievements of his erstwhile allies and take all the credit for winning the battle for himself.

In the key historical points Cornwell and Hamilton-Williams are in agreement, and it's very difficult to argue those anyway. Napoleon and his armies managed to defeat the Prussians at Ligny and fought the British, Dutch, and German forces to a draw at Quatre Bras on the same day, with one of Napoleon's corps marching between battles all day and playing no part in either. The Prussians, under Gebhard von Bluecher withdrew to Favre in the north with an intention of linking up with Wellington rather than retreating east back towards Prussia. Wellington also withdrew to the north, his position at Quatre Bras now exposed on two fronts, and took up a defensive position on a ridge south of the village of Waterloo which would allow Bluecher to join him, concentrate, and then fight Napoleon with a distinct numerical advantage.

On 18 June, 1815, Napoleon joined Marshal Ney's forces, who attacked Wellington's position on the ridge while Marshal Grouchy, under vague orders from Napoleon, marched towards Favre and engaged with the Prussian rearguard, a battle which he eventually won. However instead of tying down the entire Prussian army, most of it managed to march through back roads and eventually joined Wellington's forces in the afternoon, drawing off Napoleon's much needed reserves and eventually giving the allies the numerical advantage necessary to win the battle.

The main argument then comes as to why the allies won and Napoleon lost. Napoleon and many other French sources have long blamed Marshal Grouchy and other of Napoleon's subordinates who did not follow his orders properly. The standard British school of thought has given the lion's share of credit to the British and the King's German Legion forces there, while the other allies present have supported their own countries. And of course the Prussians, led by Bluecher's chief of staff Gneisenau, have stated the entire battle would have been lost without the Prussian contribution. The truth, as Cornwell states is somewhat more complex and for the most part Cornwell says we probably will never know the exact truth. The metaphor of a ball, apparently once used by Wellington, is repeated often in the book. Everyone will remember what happened to them and what they saw, but they will not have been everywhere and have seen everything. Everyone's individual account will vary depending on their location and their own opinions and memories. Some general facts may be agreed upon, but the specifics will be far more difficult to sort out.

For the most part, I think Cornwell does a good job talking about the whole story, keeping in mind the entire time that people's perspectives will of course be rather limited or downright wrong, especially on an early nineteenth century battlefield where the noise and smoke making seeing a few yards in front of you difficult and anything beyond that almost impossible. Cornwell works to incorporate a number of sources, although his perspective from Wellington's army is almost entirely British and only rarely mentions the Dutch, Belgian, or German allies. However, Cornwell does state that in their accounts the British charge their allies with cowardice, and the other allies charge the British with cowardice so the truth is they probably all performed admirably. However he does suggest the Dutch, Belgian, and German troops, who were more likely to be raw recruits compared to their British allies, were more likely to break, which suggests a slight hint of bias.

If there is any reason why Napoleon lost at Waterloo, Cornwell blames it on a combination of Napoleon's decision to wait until the ground was dry for use of his artillery, his decision to assault Wellington head on which only played to Wellington's strengths, his ambiguously worded orders, and some of Marshal Ney's decisions, who was making a very bad mess of things that day. Cornwell also states unambiguously that the Prussians arrived in time to help Wellington, whose army was at the breaking point, win the day and drew off much needed troops from Napoleon's reserves. Perhaps more importantly the Prussians, despite marching since the previous night, continued the pursuit of the French and ensured the complete destruction of Napoleon's army in the following night. If Cornwell's account is from a largely British perspective, it at least seems a rather even-handed if somewhat brief account of the battles.

I think my only strong complaint would be Cornwell's decision to, at points, move the narrative into the present tense. This is only a temporary decision and it's usually done at chapter breaks to ''catch the reader up'' so to speak on events that are happening on the battlefield when we rejoin the narrative. It just seems weird to me, personally, to shift between tenses like that and it's not something I've run into in other historical texts. I think that may be the historical novelist in Cornwell coming out during the book.

Overall, this book is pretty good, if rather brief. It gives a nice overview of the battle and at least gives credit to both the British and Prussians at Waterloo, if perhaps once again the Dutch, Beligians, and other Germans are getting the short shift. It's certainly not as detailed as Hamilton-Williams work, but I think it manages to avoid the pitfalls that other book tends to fall into. And certainly Cornwell has done enough research on the subject matter.

- Kalpar

Operation Paperclip: The Secret Intelligence Program That Brought Nazi Scientists to America, by Annie Jacobsen

This week I'm taking another look at World War II with Annie Jacobsen's Operation Paperclip, which was actually read by the author in this audio book. Although to me it wasn't read with the same level of passion as say, The God Delusion or The Secret History of Wonder Woman, I always appreciate it when an author is able to take the time to read their book for the audio edition. Furthermore, this is a very serious subject matter so I can understand why the author might not take a terribly light-hearted or conversational tone when it comes to talking about the subject material.

To provide some background for those of you who aren't aware, Operation Paperclip was a program run by the United States right after World War II, which was initially to retrieve military technology from the Nazis to help equip America's arsenals for the next war, assumed to happen with the Soviets within a matter of years. This very quickly expanded to a project of retrieving the actual scientists and technicians themselves and bringing them to America, giving them employment contracts with the U.S. government. There had been protests both within the government and from among the public who were aware former Nazi scientists were being hired, but these protests were soon drowned out by the interests of national security.

Jacobsen talks about three main areas where Operation Paperclip concentrated its focus: chemical warfare, biological warfare and medical research, and aerospace engineering with jet engines and rockets. These were three areas the Nazis invested considerable time and resources for development and, more horrifically, utilized large portions of unwilling test subjects or slave labor to contribute to the war effort. Thousands of political prisoners, forced into slavery by the Nazi regime, were worked to death in underground factories assembling Wehrner von Braun's V-2 rockets. Thousands more were worked to death at the chemical factors of I. G. Farben at Auschwitz, or were used for tests of nerve gases. And many more people met their deaths in horrific medical experiments at Dachau, experiments devoid of any morality. And yet the United States was all too eager to utilize not only the information gleaned from these atrocities, but also bring back the scientists who perpetrated such atrocities and place them in government employ.

One of the biggest challenges behind researching this topic is the amount of white-washing that has occurred over the past seventy years. Intelligence officials were well aware the United States ''officially'' had a policy against granting immigration visas to former high-ranking Nazis and if the records of many Operation Paperclip recruits had been thoroughly examined they never would have been accepted. So the recruiters purposely omitted certain details and provided sanitized histories of hundreds of scientists to help ease their entry to the United States. In interviews with the public, scientist such as Wehrner von Braun perpetuated this myth, claiming they'd been forced to join the party against their will and were interested in science rather than politics. The paperwork proving this wasn't the case was buried under a smokescreen of misinformation and to this day remains difficult to obtain under the Freedom of Information Act or, perhaps also likely, it was intentionally lost decades ago. If there is no other reason for this book, it's to remind people that Americans compromising moral values for short term gains in ''national security'' is hardly a new thing. It in fact has a long and depressing history in the United States.

I think the worst thing about it was this program was sold to the American people as promoting American industry through peace technologies. In fact, at least within the focus of Jacobsen's book, the researchers they recruited were almost entirely for military purposes. Certainly there are peaceful uses for the medical research performed by Nazi scientists, especially in the areas of aeronautical medicine and hypothermia research. (Which isn't to downplay how truly horrific that research was under the Nazis.) But research and production of deadly nerve gases and mind-altering drugs, as well as the weaponization of biological contagions hardly has very useful peace purposes. Thankfully the tons of nerve gas manufactured by the United States was never used, but there's a certain irony that we spent a great amount of money manufacturing it, only to spend even more money safely disposing of them.

The most visible, and probably memorable, use of Nazi technology was the budding space program which eventually culminated with American missions to the moon. However, even this had military purposes, at least initially. Wehrner von Braun argued stridently that the United States should weaponize space before the Soviet Union did and advocated the construction of a space station capable of launching nuclear weapons from orbit. Thankfully these plans never came to pass, but it certainly takes some luster off of the American space program.

Although the bulk of the book talks about the researchers in the fields of rocketry, biological, and chemical warfare, Jacobsen also spares some time to talk about the Nuremberg Trials and operations such as Camp David and the Gehlen Organization after World War II. Although much press is made over the high-ranking Nazis who were convicted and some of whom were executed at these trials, there were many others who were quietly acquitted because they were needed for the interests of ''national security''. And some war criminals were released after serving laughably short prison sentences considering the enormity of their crimes. It tragically undermines the morality the Nuremberg trials were supposed to espouse, making them seem more and more like the show trials of victorious nations. On top of that, the CIA pioneered the use of blacksites, sometimes with former Nazis employed as agents, at Camp King in Germany, beginning yet another unsavory part of American history.

Overall this book is rather depressing but extremely necessary. All too often we like to think of America, especially during World War II, as being nothing but good guys. However as the Cold War began America proved there were no depths they weren't willing to stoop to in the sake of keeping the world ''safe'' for democracy. Unfortunately, even today we're all too willing to compromise principles for the sake of national security, which I'm sure will have unfortunate consequences for us in the future.

- Kalpar