Books I Read In ’23: Part 1
1177 BC: The Year Civilization Collapsed by Eric H. Cline
The Late Bronze Age Collapse is one of those fascinating historical mysteries: about 3000 years ago, essentially every city in the near and middle east burned to the ground, most never to be repopulated. Greece entered the Greek Dark Ages, the New Kingdom period in Egypt ended entering one of their “intermediate periods”. It’s Mad Max, but with sandals and bronze spear heads. So, what happened? Famine, earthquakes, attacks by the mysterious “Sea Peoples?”
To orient this historically, this is after everything we think of as being “ancient Egypt”, but before “ancient Greece.” Whatever historical events inspired Exodus have already happened, and we’re roughly at the same time as whatever really happened at Troy. (And, of course, both “The Bronze Age” and “The Bronze Age Collapse” are both strictly Mediterranean-world concerns, the civilizations in Asia, the Americas, Africa, and indeed even north-western Europe would be surprised to hear there was a collapse.)
Cline does an amazing job sketching out the world of the Mediterranean at the end of the bronze age. Unlike some other places and times in history which can feel like transmissions from an alien planet, the ancient near east is familiar—cosmopolitan, connected, deeply interlinked trade, people have jobs, to the extent that there are art fads, and grecian artisans sail to all points on the Mediterranean shore because Greek-style frescoes are “so hot right now”. And then, it all burns to the ground, and no one really knows why.
After sketching out what the pre-collapse Mediterranean world was like, Cline starts to offer various suggestions about what might have happened, and right about the point you think to yourself, “oh, I get it, this was the cause,” Cline basically yells “you’d like to think that, wouldn’t you!” and whips out some new piece of evidence that disproves the theory.
Fascinating and entertaining, despite not having as clear an answer as anyone—including the author—would like. The ultimate conclusion is that it wasn’t any one thing, it was everything—a century or so filled with earthquakes, climate change–fueled famine, social unrest, attacks by displaced migrants and refugees, and, and, and… with the final result being that the entire sophisticated international order ceased to be. Chilling. In a lot of ways, it’s a real-world historical version of Gibon’s “Jackpot”. Makes me glad I don’t live in a time like that. Now, let me take a big sip of coffee and check the news…
The Sunken Land Begins To Rise Again By M. John Harrison
A strange and unsettling book that’s hard to describe. I picked this up mostly because William Gibson was enthusing about it on the former twitter. I confess, it took me months to read the first half, and then I read the last third practically in one sitting.
The best description I can give is that it’s like a book starring the characters who live next door to a Stephen King novel. Strange and disturbing things are happening just out of sight, and the main characters are a little too wrapped up in themselves to notice. As it proceeds, the book moves into a space more akin to Lovecraft (but without the racism) where these things that are happening are too alien for the characters, or the reader, to perceive correctly.
The end was almost unspeakably unsettling. I’m glad I read it. Strongly recommended.
Fast Times In Comic Book Editing By Shelly Bond and a bunch of artists
Shelly Bond was the assistant editor for DC’s Vertigo line in the 90s, and was the last person out the door when DC finally turned the lights off a few decades later. She worked on—basically—everything, and was one of those under-recognized figures, instrumental in Vertigo being Vertigo.
She kickstarted a graphic novel memoir, telling stories about both being in her early 20s in manhattan while also being at the ground floor of an artistic movement. Not every kickstarter turns out to have been worth it, but this one absolutely was.
Snow Glass Apples By Colleen Doran And Neil Gaiman
Snow, Glass, Apples started life as a relatively minor Gaiman short story, later adapted to graphic novel form by Doran. The plot is slender, even by Gaiman standards: what if there was something we didn't know about the story of Snow White, and what if the so-called “Evil Queen” knew something we didn’t? What if the story we know is because the victor gets to write history? (Spoiler: Snow White is a vampire). The plot isn’t the attraction, if you’ve read more than about three other stories you can correctly guess exactly how things are going to go by the end of the first page. The attraction is Doran’s absolutely gorgeous art, turning a fun-if-simplistic “fractured fairytale” into a visual masterpiece. I really, really enjoyed it.
Bea Wolf by Zach Weinersmith and Boulet
Hey, Wait!
Bea Wolf is a surprisingly-accurate retelling of the first third of Beowulf—for kids. Treeheart—the suburban treehouse that all the kids in the neighborhood hang out in is under attack by their nefarious neighbor, Mister Grindle, who can’t stand the sounds of merry-making. Fortunately, a group of kids from the suburb upriver ride their inner-tubes down the sliding-sea to help, led by the steadfast Bea Wolf.
The art is outstanding, but the standout here is the writing: Zack Weinersmith (mostly of Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal fame) does an absolutely incredible job writing a modern, kid-friendly version of the story that keeps the rhythms, alliterations, digressions, and kennings all intact. This is, without question, the most fun I have ever had reading a book out loud to my kids.
Reader, if you’ve got kids in your life and haven’t picked this up yet, go order a copy right now, trust me.