Showing posts with label Constantinople. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Constantinople. Show all posts

Wednesday, 7 November 2018

THE OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE OF ABEL MORGAN by Cynthia Jefferies. Review by Adèle Geras


Cynthia Jefferies is a friend of mine. My name appears in the acknowledgements of this novel. I always begin reviews of books by friends with a declaration like this because I don't want to end up on the back pages of Private Eye accused of logrolling.  I hope readers of this blog will believe me when I say I would not recommend a book  I didn't enjoy. If I'm not liking a book, I stop reading it.  Pleasure is what I'm after.






And pleasure is what The Outrageous Fortune of Abel Morgan provides. Not just a general pleasure either, but several different kinds of pleasure at the same time.






First, there's the narrative, which follows two people: Christopher Morgan and his son, Abel. Chapters from each point of view alternate for most of the novel and Jefferies has Christopher's account unfold in the third person while his son gives a first person account of events. By doing this, she varies the tone and style, and  makes things much more interesting. 




Left: Cornelius Claesz van Wieringen    Right: Willem-Alexander van de Velde ll

Secondly, readers of this book won't be bored. I'm going to use a reviewer's cliché and call it a 'roller-coaster ride.' It's a very exciting story, full of adventures, secrets, mistakes that seem uncorrectable, wicked men, a woman who's far from angelic, pirates, slaves, and traffickers, smugglers and even a walk on appearance from King Charles II and Samuel Pepys. I'm going to give away nothing about the plot, except to say that the widowed Christopher is left with a baby to care for. He loses the child, then finds him, then loses him again. He spends the best part of the novel on a quest to find him. And while he does this, Abel is having adventures of his own.



Thirdly, the characters (and we meet many) are brought to life very well. We can see them and hear them and several of them (especially the villain with the false arm and hand) stay in your mind long after you've closed the book. We care about Abel and his father because Jeffries has involved us so closely in their thoughts and feelings.




Fourthly, every place we visit as we're reading is vividly there. We move from the West Country to Constantinople, to London, to the Caribbean, to Jamaica and the Netherlands and it's wonderful to be able to travel so far while sitting snugly by the fire. I did actually read some of this book in front of my gas fire while my central heating was briefly on the blink, and it's the perfect way to enjoy this story.  Because my main feeling as I  read was that this is an old-fashioned novel in the very best sense of the term: happy to tell a thrilling and moving story in elegant and evocative prose and above all, one that everyone in the family can share.  I really hope there's an audio version on the way. Listening to that would be a splendid way to pass a long car journey. Meanwhile, I can heartily recommend the book. 

Photo of Cynthia Jefferies by Tammy Lyn Photography


All other photos provided by Cynthia Jefferies.

Today is the last day to enter our competition to win a copy of The Outrageous Fortune of Abel Morgan! See the post for 31st October for details.


Friday, 12 January 2018

BLUE vs GREEN. Passion and politics in the Roman circus.....


What did Nero and Caligula have in common, besides being murderous megalomaniacs? Both were ardent Greens. In Constantinople some 500 years later, Justinian and his wife Theodora were passionate Blues.

The Blues and Greens were two of the factions in chariot racing, who were supported by the populace in huge numbers. Along with their less celebrated rivals, the Reds and Whites, they provoked violent passions and the occasional riot in a tradition stretching from the late republic until the Twelfth Century AD. This is an extraordinary tale of sporting rivalry.

I first became aware of the Blues and Greens when researching my first, dead-in-a-drawer novel set in 6th century Constantinople. In this era, the violence from the racing factions spilled onto the streets: there were riots and massacres that make our football hooligans seem like benevolent pixies.
Now I am back again, but five centuries earlier. How important were the Blues and Greens in the early Empire - how prevalent, and how destructive?


Chariot racing, according to Roman legend, was introduced by Romulus. According to archaeology, it was most likely borrowed Etruria - and the Etruscans borrowed from the Greeks. In the Greek tradition, wealthy men effectively sponsored chariots in the Games, accruing great honour. In Rome, it was fashionable int he early Republic for aristocrats to race their own teams. Historian Elizabeth Rawson argues that at some point after the fifth century BC, the state began to pay horse-breeders to raise horses for the races.

Rawson argues that is it possible that it was about this time that the four factions emerged; effectively four different stables which paid for the chariots, horses and charioteers, perhaps from the ever increasing prize-money.

Charior racing was hugely popular. Ovid, in his Weinstein-ish poetry about how to pick up women, makes it clear that men and women sat together - close packed in narrow rows. The Circus Maximus could hold - it is argued - a staggering 150,000 race fans. Imagine the noise as the Blues passed the meta (the turning post) in the final round, beating the Greens back to a sullen second.  I am reminded of attending a baseball game in America. The distances involved meant there were no rival fans. For someone used to British football and rugby grounds the atmosphere was weirdly leaden. Supporting any sport becomes more interesting when you are vested - somehow, anyhow - in the competitors.

Augustus - who cannily never let his preferences be known  - understood the power of the Circus. He renovated and expanded the Circus, and sat his family on a large collective bench so that they could be seen to be first among equal citizens. As Andrew Feldherr points out, he chose the cliffs overhanging the circus to build his palace; the architectural symbol of the new order.

There is some doubt as to whether all four factions had a long history before Augustus began to incorporate the myths and iconography of the Circus into the elaborate mythical buttressing of his
regime.

Tertullian, writing in the third century AD, says that there were originally only two factions - red and white. This is disputed by modern historians.

Alan Cameron, in his seminal book on this topic, Circus Factions, argues that Tertullian's version is just one tradition, and that all the later versions are ripe with mythology and wish-fulfillment. Cameron argues that the origins of the Blues and Greens go far back in to the Republic - exactly when, we do not know.

Blues and Green became the major colours quickly, dominating the sources. Cameron argues that the precise relationship between the Blues and Greens on the one hand, and Red and White on the other, remains a puzzle. One version of the significance of the colours holds that they represent the four seasons - but as Cameron points out, this notion is part of later mythologising by Roman antiquarians.

There have been various theories propounded as to whether the support for different factions was related to anything specific - class or religion, in particular. In late antiquity it has been surmised that one faction denoted one specific view of the nature of Christ.

Cameron argues that there is very little evidence of these distinctions. "The truth is that Blues hated Greens, not because they were lower class or heretics, but simply because they were Greens."

I can understand the temptation to ascribe social or religious leanings to one side or another; it seems absurd to hate for no more reason than the colour of a charioteer's tunic. But I have been to football derby matches - a number of them. I have seen little to match the vitriol and hatred between fans of Sheffield Wednesday and Sheffield United. Unlike the other great football rivalries there is little to divide the fans - Liverpool, Glasgow and Manchester have their religious splits; Barcelona its political ones.

But in Sheffield, an owl hates a blade just because he's a blade. Just as a Blue hates a Green just because.
Circus Maximus


Even as Rome descended into its late Antiquity malaise, chariot racing remained central to the City. In Decline and Fall, Gibbon says of 5th Century Romans that they "still considered the circus as their home, their temple and the seat of the republic."

In Constantinople, meanwhile, the factions became central to the Empire's politics. Who you supported came to matter politically; and the violent uprisings of the factions became a live political issue. Cameron makes strong arguments for the reasons why the rivalry between factions spiralled through the centuries to erupt in riots and murders in the 6th century: He points to the factionalisation of other areas of public spectacle, like the theatre.

But with a novelist's head, and not a historian's, it strikes me that there is another factor at play - all that history! Imagine the weight of it, stretching over an unimaginable 1500 years or so. And this the type of history that clings so tightly to a myth that the two are indistinguishable. The generations of forefathers who were Blue or Green. Who took their Blueness or Greenness from Rome and into the provinces. From Rome to that spit of land at the edge of Asia. Being Blue or Green stops needing a meaning when the weight of history and myth and family presses its colour violently upon your soul.

Antonia Senior

Tuesday, 17 November 2015

NEIL OLIVER at the HARROGATE HISTORY FESTIVAL by Penny Dolan



Not long ago, I spent a most enjoyable and interesting time at the Harrogate History Festival, a long weekend that is run by the Historical Writers Association., hearing a host of speakers, both “history girls” and slightly more “history boys”.



Among the speakers was Neil Oliver, talking about his first novel, The Master of Shadows, set in the fifteenth century at the siege of Constantinople. What follows is my account of the question and answer session.

Why did you chose Constantinople as the setting for your book?
Oliver had always been fascinated by the city. The Emperor built the city because he was concerned about the power of Rome in the region, Constantinople was both a dream and a physical entity and it seemed throughout much of that time as permanent as a mountain range, lasting more than a thousand years.  A great white edifice, the Wall of Theodosius, defended the city and port across most of its area. Although the city had been besieged on twenty occasions, at the time it was unthinkable that Constantinople could fall.

However, the fall had been predicted by the Prophet, who had said of the downfall that “it will be so when God wants it to be so.” We are still dealing with the ripples dropped into that pond at the time: look where the seat of modern trouble is today, there where the tectonic plates meet. History teaches us that no empire lasts for ever. Does America know this? The wise King David, commented on his reign: “This too shall pass.”  Oliver had been reading about the subject of Constantinople ever since he was 15, so that when he came to writing his novel, it only took him about four months to complete.

What was a siege like?
It was as bad as you would expect. There were rules to a siege: if the city gave up, there would be three days of sacking. However, because Islam had been denied this apple for so long the entire population of Constantinople was killed or taken into slavery to lead anonymous, desperate lives. The conqueror, the Sultan Mehmet, was an educated man, interested in science and engineering and more, and he made sure that the city itself was preserved, especially the great church of Saint Sophia.

This particular siege redrew the map of the world as it was known. In the months leading up to the siege, the Emperor had pleaded with all the leaders of Christendom to come to Constantinople’s aid. His please fell on deaf ears. Not only was the conquest unthinkable, but the churchmen of Western Europe considered the Eastern Christians to be almost heathen. The Pope, no friend of the Emperor, refused the request and no help arrived. When the city fell, it shifted the centre of Christianity and redrew the map between Europe and Asia.

How scary was life like in Britain and Europe at this time?
This was when great areas of Britain were known as the Debatable Lands, and it was the time of the Border Reivers. The ordinary people got no comfort or help from the existence of kings, who were almost mythical beings. Security for most people lay in being protected by powerful local war-lords, and most life was nasty, brutish and short. When asked if, assuming a Time Machine was available, he would go back there, Neil Oliver said no.

He pointed out that, throughout history, the people of Scotland have travelled to other lands in search new destinies. His novel, The Master of Shadows, is about a young man, John Grant, whose unique abilities carry him from his home in Scotland to Constantinople, the heart of the Byzantine Empire, just as the siege gathers force. John Grant is searching for Lena, a girl whose life was saved by Prince Constantine, although that story is far from simple.

Oliver’s thinking about his character, John Grant, was influenced by Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell’s book about what makes some peoples successful, particularly the Scots communities who travelled to America in Jacobite times. The Wild West, he suggested, was created by largely Celtic peoples: immigrants of Scottish descent who were used to the owning and stealing of livestock and cattle and were as tough as wild animals themselves. Even the name for these people - red-necks – is an apt description of how the Celtic complexion and colouring reacts as the sun. 

What made you so interested in history?
History was my best subject at school, said Oliver, because it was always taught through stories. He always had a sense of being connected to history because his family were people who had survived. Both his grandfathers had come through the First World War, one as the single survivor in his own community. As a child, he had sat on his grandfather’s lap and felt a metal edge behind his ear, under the skin. His father explained that the ridge was the edge of a part of a shell still lodged in his grandfather’s skull. He was amazed. How could this old man ever have been a soldier? There was also a scar, a clock-shaped mark on the old man’s arm, and ligament damage had curled the little finger and ring finger inwards. Oliver the child noted that his grandfather’s hand looked exactly the same shape as the hand on his Action-Man toy, and was duly impressed.

How do we encourage children to relate to history? For example, do we read history aloud enough?
Fiction plays a large part in encouraging children. He has three, and they learned about history through stories. His middle son has enjoyed books such as The Lord of the Rings and the Chronicles of Prydain, and already wants to know about the Dark Ages.

Don’t forget, he said, that History includes two words: Historicus, meaning enquiry and Historia, or story. History provides the context through which we can understand ourselves as otherwise it is as if we are on a random page of an unknown novel. He had been inspired by his parent choice of books for him, tales of derring-do, with heroes like Shackleton and Scott, and the story of the Aeneid. He suggested that such courage is burnished by the passage of time and buffed by the modesty of the people who were involved. It is others who notice the courageous acts, and great fame comes posthumously. 

Briefly, Oliver wondered what such stories would be like now, in these days of constant Twitter and Instagram: Not again! Pemmican. Sad face, sad face - along with a photograph of that very last meal, perhaps?


Modern media is changing how we do history, so what advice is there for the future?
The biggest change is how much we’re recording because in the past, very little was recorded and now we can record everything. The biggest challenge for the future will be to winnow the wheat from the chaff and to find what is important among all the stuff. He recalled the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the treasured Ark of the Covenant is hidden away in a gigantic room among many, many other apparently identical boxes. How will such a secret be found? How will we, in a thousand years, be known about? The role of the editor of all this information will be of utmost importance.

The internet is changing everything, both in a good and a bad way. In one way, it brings people together so we can find people who share our interests and opinions. Once we were defined by just or local and national boundaries but now we can select our identity from among people around the world. However, because of the way the internet works, feeding our preferences, we are in danger of creating an echo culture, where we only hear our own thoughts returned to us.

Neil Oliver spoke briefly about the joy of making television, and how it had allowed him access to places and people he couldn’t get to in any other way, which was perfect for someone who had been a journalist and was therefore nosy about people. 


He was glad that people were happy to see him or speak to him and had discovered that if you are on the television, you can ask people anything and they’ll tell you. He had stumbled into television as a last minute replacement on the Two Men in a Trench archaeology series, and really enjoys the opportunity to tell stories and pass on rare pieces of historical knowledge he hears to lots more people

Asked about the controversy over the Bannockburn site, Oliver said that he’d looked at the area twice as an archaeologist. The main problem is that 99% of the battlefield evidence would have been made of iron. Unfortunately, as the site is on the flood plain of the River Forth which floods in winter and dries up in summer, all the evidence and artefacts would be turned into dust. 

Remember, he said, the evidence of absence is not the absence of evidence. 

Besides, after a battle, the field would be full of scavengers. Within two or three days, most of the objects, artefacts and evidence would have been removed from the site anyway. He spoke about his work on Vikings, and his delight in the discovery of a burial that honoured a young disabled girl, surrounded by evidence of her high status in the community.



Had any history writers inspired him?
He admitted he did not read much historical fiction himself, but gave two examples. He knows and loves the books of Nigel Tranter, and also William McIlvaney’s Laidlaw series, He said that the Laidlaw books are testament to a time he knew but now recognises as the past. They are about a world that doesn’t exist now, not if fifty years ago has become the time before which history begins.

Neil Oliver’s talk was a pleasure (and he seemed even nicer in real life) so I hope you don’t mind me sneaking him into the History Girls blog  today. He does have swishy hair after all, doesn't he?



Thank you too, Harrogate History Festival!

Penny Dolan




Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Mission Impossible? - Dianne Hofmeyr


                           

                            

I saw the Hagia Sophia for the first time through prison bars at dawn. It hovered on the horizon, the colour of a blood orange or the inside of a split fig. How tantalising it must have been for inmates of this converted prison where I was staying. 

Mission Impossible is how my guide, Tulay Zeybek Özcan, who grew up in the streets around the Hagia Sophia, describes it. In 537 AD a dome this scale was unprecedented. Under the rule of the Emperor Justinian, Anthemius, his architect, found himself in a geometric fix. How to place a dome the size he envisaged on a square? He solved it by building four massive columns at each corner of the square and on top of these columns he built arches and then filled the arches in with masonry to make curved triangles (pendentives) which spread the weight. The dome was built in the record time of 5 yrs, 10 mths and 4 days by 10 000 workers and with the 40 windows (I counted) between its ribs gives the impression of floating. 

It’s equally a mission impossible in a single History blog, to begin to describe the events that turned this site, which was preceded by two pagan temples, into a Christian church damaged by an earthquake 20 years later, repaired again, and then with the Turkish conquest of Constantinople in 1453, turned into a Mosque with all its mosaics plastered and painted over, into finally what it is today – a museum celebrating Byzantine art. 

From high up in the gallery, I’m a novice looking out at an ancient world. I can’t read Greek, or Latin (apart from a few words left over from school days), or the Arabesque script, nor even modern-day Turkish. I see the Hagia Sophia through a veil of ignorance but every now and then I catch a glimpse from the corner of my eye that is startling in its clarity and then it fades again before I can hold on to what I’ve discovered.
my view from the gallery                      
a curved triangular pendentive
layers of candle smoke adding their own patina 
mosaics from 6th century just visible in the arches
a cleaned Corinthian capital 
a cross no bigger than a handprint in a marble wall
fine detail in the mosaics



 marks of the tomb of Anthemius in the marble floor
the floating dome that is no longer a perfect circle


“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.”~ Ralph Waldo Emerson


all photographs are the copyright of Dianne Hofmeyr. Please do not use without permission.
www.diannehofmeyr.com