1493

1493: Uncovering the New World that Columbus Created
© 2011 Charles C. Mann
690 pages

Although Christopher Columbus’s reputation as an intrepid explorer doesn’t withstand historical scrutiny,  Charles C. Mann believes Columbus has a legacy still worth honoring. No, he didn’t prove the world to be flat — that’s a myth peculiar to American schoolrooms — and his attempt to establish that the world was smaller than conventional wisdom held would have failed were it not for the existence of the Americas. But Columbus made the world smaller, through his actions — for he not only ‘discovered’ the new world, he aggressively promoted interactions between it and the old. What began as the Colombian Exchange, we now call globalization — and its effects have been profound from the start. Such is the story of 1493.

Throughout most of recorded history, the economies of large polities tended to be self-contained spheres.  The economies of the Roman and Chinese empires, for instance, were largely separate  aside from a trickle of activity along the silk road.  The modern age is marked, however, by a world economy. No sector of the Earth, no community however small, conducts business in a market smaller than the entire globe. This dense interconnectivity is made possible by both by powerful transportation, in the form of fast-moving planes, ships, and delivery trucks, and the near-instantaneous telecommunications networks. It began, however, with enormous trade galleons tying Spain to central America, and its holdings there to  China. The influx of so much silver into China’s markets played havoc with its economy, leading to decades of instability. Crops from the Americas became staples of the global food market, allowing for a prolonged population boom in China and alleviating famine in Ireland, at least until the new crop the Irish came to depend upon, the potato, was hit by blight. The habitat of both plants and animals spread wildly, and it wasn’t just large fauna like pigs and horses that found new ground:  bacterial populations flourished, and with them disease. In 1491, Mann detailed how the human landscape of the Americas was laid waste by the arrival of European diseases like smallpox; here, another population, that of the west-coast Africans, is reduced to slavery because of their resistance to malaria.

People tend to like histories of themselves, of great people doing great things — but this is a material history, very much in the vein of Guns, Germs, and Steels, one which demonstrates how human history is often driven by outside factors — here, by access to resources and the economic changes they allow. Although humans are active as agents, initiating the changes, the outcome is never what they expect: the effect is rather like Odysseus’ sailors opening up the bag of wind and being blown wildly off course.

 Mann’s history of early globalization covers the changes being wrought across the globe, missing only the mideast. Though dense, Mann is quite the storyteller, at least until the final leg of the story when he wanders into the rubber plantations of South America and the story loses some steam, getting lost for a while charting the growth of communities of runaway slaves in the jungles. The  work isn’t as tightly focused in its latter half as in the first, but Mann does tend toward the informal, combining standard narrative with merry anecdotes from his first-hand explorations of the subject. Early on, he spends three pages detailing how he investigated a word Columbus used, eventually concluding that yes, he did mean exactly what we think he meant. The investigation is interesting to a word-nerd like myself, and amusing for its irrelevancy, but it’s an example of the way he tends to wander off.

1491 was for me, the book of the year in 2010. Earlier in the summer,  when I looked back over the past five years and reflected on the stand-outs, it ranked among them. Its sequel is strong — it puts up a good fight — but it’s not quite in the same class.   Even so, I’d recommend it to those interested in the economic impact of the age of discovery, especially if they like rubber-tree plantations.

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Cattle

Cattle: an Informal Social History
© 2001 Laurie Winn Carlson
321 pages

Consider…the cow. A humble creature, its dopey expression reveals no vast intelligence, and its barrel of a body gives it virtually no athletic ability, but it is remarkable if nothing else for its extensive influence on the human race. Throughout our long history with cattle, we have used them for much more than food — and they have used us, in turn. Laurie Winn Carlson holds cattle in high esteem, and her history of cows and people is rich and wide-ranging, if sometimes romanticized.

Although most people would associate cows with beef, or food in general (dairy milk being the source of cheese and butter), the various kinds of domesticated cattle have also served as labor and medical factories; the first vaccines were taken from the lymph of cows, and are named in tribute of the cow, the Latin for which is vacca. Although it’s nice of the cows to give us a cure for smallpox, it’s the least they could do considering the disease migrated from them in the first place.  The story of cows and people is one of give and take, each side contributing to and detracting from the other’s well-being,  but until recently it has been a mutually advantageous alliance. Since the industrial era, however, the relationship has become decidedly exploitative, with cattle being reduced from beings that we related to into machines that we create, use, and discard at our own convenience.  People have become detached in general from the sources of  our food, but Carlson is especially concerned about the marginalization of cattle.


  Although Carlson sometimes gets carried away in her devotion to cows , as in early on when she attributes the development of law to the complexities of life arising from keeping cattle, Cattle is a fascinating book in part because of how much ground it covers, addressing anthropology, evolution, economics, medicine, and food just for starters, with  the main course being history.   There are definite weaknesses (repeating “facts” that should have been scrutinized more) and some curious omissions (nothing is mentioned of CAFO feedlots), but this is a unique book. Other books I’ve looked at cover only the food aspect of cattle culture, not their role in the everyday life of pre-industrial people.  Cattle isn’t a beefsteak of a book, but it’s a good burger at least.

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Teaser Tuesday + This Week at the Library (11 December)

“The Sun King used to entertain his guests by giving them rides on the Roulette, a kind of roller coaster built in the garden of his chateau at Marly, near Verailles, in 1691. It was a carved and gilded carriage on wheels that thundered down an eight-hundred-foot wooden track into a valley and, thanks to its momentum, up the other side — much to the amusement of the king’s bewigged guests.”

p. 4, The Great Railroad Revolution. Christian Wolmar.

Last week, I finished Charles C. Mann’s 1493 and a social history of cows, both of which would have been reviewed over the weekend had I not spent it going to three Christmas parties. (Well, one was a Hanukkah breakfast…) I’d started The Age of Voltaire with the intention of reading at least one more chapter of the Story of Civilization before civilization ends in ten days (I jest, of course, but it’s been a while since I’ve read one), but then…I found out that my library has a copy of Christian Wolmar’s newest work, The Great Railroad  Revolution, which covers the intersection of the railroads and America’s past and future. And to think the day before I ordered a book on the history of steam transportation. So, trains first, then Voltaire. I’m also intending to finish The Humans Who Went Extinct. I’d managed to find it, but now I’ve lost it again. Tricky Neanderthals..

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The Eternal Tide

Star Trek Voyager: the Eternal Tide
© 2012 Kirsten Beyer
388 pages          

Only Kathryn Janeway can save reality, imperiled by the physical manifestation of Chaos itself. At least, that’s what “Junior”, the scion of the mostly-omnipotent and thoroughly mischievous Q, thinks.  It’s just  not that Jane way is a demigod: all Starfleet captains are. But something she did in an alternate timeline defeated chaos, and Q Jr. is hoping she can figure what that something is. Unfortunately for him, she’s dead, having perished at the dawn of the last great Borg War when she was assimilated before being blown to smithereens. Fortunately for him, he’s a Q, so restoring her to life isn’t that hard of a trick.  But even for a Q,  life’s not that easy. The Eternal Tide witnesses the return of Captain Kate*, the culmination of Fleet Commander Afsarah Eden’s mysterious-past storyline,  the Q Continuum invading Voyager in force, and  the near-obliteration of life as we know it, all inextricably connected.

Kirsten Beyer has turned the Voyager relaunch into an enterprise far more critically successful than its onscreen edition,  reviving it. Here, it’s Janeway that she brings to life — to the mixed delight and vehemence of fans.  Since the return of Spock in the third Star Trek movie, fans have complained that death has lost its sting in the Trek universe:  while Joe Redshirt may be dead for good, the major characters always have a way to return. Data, for instance, dumped his entire memory into B4 shortly before engaging in his own attempt at a heroic death. Janeway’s salvation is the Q Continuum, who showed up shortly before she started the mission that led to her assimilation and “death” and warned her not to do it.  She did it anyway, and then something astonishing happened: her death became a “fixed moment in time”. In Q-terms, this means that in every universe, in all but one timeline,  Kathryn Janeway dies at the same exact moment. Clearly something is afoot, and Q Jr intends to find out what it is. He has a personal interest in sorting out the mystery, because for some reason, he can’t look into the future beyond a certain date. Doe that mean the universe simply ends?…or just himself or the Q?

Although this is the book of Janeway’s return — it has her on the cover,  after all — it isn’t about Captain Kate, Wonder Woman in Uniform.  Afsarah Eden, commander of the Federation fleet exploring the Delta Quadrant and looking for signs of the supposedly-vanished Borg,  plays a part even more crucial. Eden has a past shrouded even mystery: even she doesn’t remember her early childhood, and in Children of the Storm  she made a discovery that overturned what little she thought she did. Here, the plot thickens. Her past and the future of the Q Continuum are bound together. The story eventually sheds light on the origins of the Q, which is what fans may remember The Eternal Tide for after the furor of Janeway’s return to the living is over.  Although the Chaos-Monster-Thing plot took time to grow on me, once the little storylines (Eden’s exploration of her past, Q Jr’s investigation of oblivion) coalesce,  all comes together splendidly.   There were multiple fascinating ways the story could have been resolved, but Beyer’s choice was a nice nod to the abiding spirit of Star Trek, a belief in the power of the human spirit.

As usual, the writing is a pleasure. Characterization is, as ever, a strong suit:  I still can’t get over how cocky Tom Paris has become a responsible first officer and devoted family man, and a source of pride to  Captain Chakotay, when for most of Voyager’s run they were at each other’s throats. Beyer first impressed me by making Chakotay likable, and a relationship between him and Janeway palatable.  Janeway’s return would obviously have the greatest effect on him, rivaled possibly only by that of Seven of Nine’s, whose own response is touching given her tendency to not emote.

The Eternal Tide thus tells a story that is big enough not to be overshadowed by the return of a major character from death, and it’s told with all the skill relaunch readers have come to expect from Beyer.

*Technically it’s Vice Admiral Janeway, but “Cap’n Kate” has so much more consonative appeal.

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Teaser Tuesday (4 December)

They sat and continued to stare at each other, in a precious stolen moment of pure happiness. Finally, Kathryn said, “You do realize the universe is tearing itself to shreds around us?”

p. 251, Star Trek Voyager: the Eternal Tide. Kirsten Beyer.

“So we’re facing something that appears to have the potential to destroy not only the lives of every being now in existence, but also the lives of at least two theoretically immortal beings,” Cambridge said, “And you and this Junior are convinced that another version of Voyager encountered the same problem and somehow eliminated this threat?”
“We’re pretty good,” Chakotay offered semi-seriously. 

p. 262, The Eternal Tide. Kirsten Beyer.

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This Week at the Library (30 November)

This past week I read A South Divided, by David Downing, which covers  the same ground  in part as David Williams’ Bitterly Divided, in that it examines the importance of southerners who worked against the confederacy. But whereas Williams argued that the Confederacy’s loss in the American Civil War was primarily one of popular support, not of combat operations, Downing’s history is less pointed: he doesn’t cut to the quick like Williams, but chooses individual cases in different categories (a southerner who became a leading Union officer, a slave who ran away and took a steamship with him, a given band of anti-confederates fighting from a particular swamp, a county which refused to secede from the Union) to explore the different reasons southerners had for resisting or fighting against the Confederacy.  Although his narrative is missing the teeth of Williams’, Downing is an English professor, not an historian, and what he delivers is admirable: a book which tells another side of the Civil War, one rich in human interest. His work is superb for illustrating Bitterly Divided, expanding on the untold towards of the southern fight against the confederacy, but by itself it lacks the critical substance.

I also finished Charles C. Mann’s 1493, which enthralled me for the most part. It seemed to lose vigor after the first four hundred pages, but I’ll be giving full comments in a few days.  I hadn’t intended to read it so soon, but The Humans Who Went Extinct has gone missing on me. I have far too many cases and piles of books that a given work might disappear into when I absent-mindedly set it down…

I’ll be trying to find that, and in the meantime I’m doing my annual Christmastime Harry Potter re-read. On the serious side, I’ve got Cattle: An Informal Social History, by Laurie Winn Carlson.

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Hominids

Hominids
© 2003 Robert Sawyer
448 pages


“You manage to comfortably feed six billion people with plants?”
“Well, ah, no,” said Mary. “About half a billion people don’t have enough to eat.”
“That is very bad,” said Ponter, simply.


Why did humans kill off the Neanderthals? Nobody likes a scold.  Researchers studying neutrinos are startled when a Neanderthal suddenly appears in the bowels of their laboratory, though not as surprised as he, who materialized into a tank of heavy water while conducting some quantum research of his own. Quantum research? Yes, this Neanderthal is no time-traveling caveman. He’s a scientist from a parallel world, one in which Homo sapiens is extinct and Neanderthals are the dominant species — and what they’ve accomplished puts humanity to shame. Hominids is the beginning of an intriguing yet maddening SF trilogy that I can’t help but wonder at even as I wince.
 
Sawyer uses a small group of viewpoint characters to tell a fast story. Two scientists in our world are responsible for taking care of  their interspatial colleague  “Ponter”, who has no idea what’s has no idea what’s happened to him and finds himself in a world that is utterly alien, yet mockingly familiar in terms of geography. He knows the landscape: it is his home, and yet these are not his people.  Across the divide, one of Ponter’s coworkers is desperate to find out what happened to him, as in the wake of Ponter’s disappearances, the assumption is that he has been murdered…and the coworker is the only plausible suspect. Sawyer uses the two Neanderthal men to explore the differences between the societies that Sapiens and Neanderthalensis have created. Although the story itself has little dramas — the trial, Ponter’s attempts to communicate, the question of how his displacement occurred — anthropology carries the day, along with mystic physics and sketchy musings on consciousness.
 
By our standards, the Neanderthals have created a utopia wherein poverty, hunger, and crime are unknown, and technology is highly advanced even though the population is smaller and more widely dispersed. A global population of 185 million people is sustained on a diet of meat and fruit, and the only species human beings have driven extinct are themselves — Sapiens, are extinct on that world, and viewed as stupidly violent by Neanderthal anthropologists. Neanderthals live close to the Earth; literally, their beds are flush with the ground, and they use moss as their flooring. Their ways seem ancient, at times — a council of elders, called the Grays, are the leaders, and men and women live apart in separate groups for most of the month — but are also inseperable from modern technology. Therein lies a darker side to the utopia: violent crime isn’t an issue because violent offenders are castrated or sterilized, as are whichever members of their family share 50% of their DNA.  Even those who carry an impulse toward violence are careful to keep it in check, because the odds of their being discovered are nearly perfect: all Neanderthals carry an implant which records everything they do (rather like the implants in The Final Cut, with Robin Williams) onto a data cube. 
 
The novel puts forth a lot of interesting ideas, ideas which come from scholarly sources but are unlikely to find as broad an audience as an exciting novel might find. Because Ponter’s people never embraced agriculture, nor domesticated the attendant animals, they and he are not susceptible to diseases that were born in livestock and later spread to humans through close association. Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel made the same point about native Americans: because they didn’t use cattle, horses, and pigs, they were never exposed their diseases until Europeans arrived  in the Americas, pestilence in tow. Unfortunately, these ideas are presented with all the subtlety of a club to the head. The Mary-Sue esque lead character of Earth’s Children, Aayla, was a Sapiens woman raised by Neanderthals: she could do everything, perfectly, the first time. Little wonder: she must have been raised by Sawyer’s Neanderthals, because they’re just so gosh-darned wonderful. Ponter spends most of his time slack-jawed, not because he’s ignorant, but because he’s bewildered by the actions of people — people, with their smelly internal combustion engines, and their violent crime, and their patent failure to embrace birth control,  and their gods and taboos. (Neanderthals are not only nonreligious, they’ve never had anything like religion and are utterly baffled by it.  Their every measurement system is based on tens, with no religious calendars to bother with, so they’re a bit like beefy French revolutionaries.)
 
I tend to agree with the author on the merits of his Neanderthals, but they’re so overplayed and the Sapiens are so ridiculously weak that the constant preaching becomes obnoxious. Yes, I get it. Humans are terrible. But we have spunk!  Sawyer’s humans don’t. When Ponter wanders and finds a Catholic character following the Mass on TV, he stands jaw agape at what she’s doing, and later schools Mary on why she’s irrational. And incredibly, Mary marvels at what a fool she’s been her entire life.  She’s like a character from a Chick tract, and not any more believable. With the exception of one Neanderthal, most of the characters are sock puppets used to put forth arguments that lose interest when one realizes there’s no tension in them: there’s never a chance that the humans won’t go Gosh, we’re so dumb.”   And the one time that humans do something that impresses Ponter — going to the Moon, which he’s just flabbergasted by — he loses interest upon learning we did it once, decades ago, and for the trivial reason of proving the worth of economic systems. But he tries hard to make his new human companions think he’s still impressed, sounding for all the world like a parent presented with a crayola drawing of a box with legs from their child and marveling at it as though it’s a masterwork.
 
I like that Sawyer overturns expectations by having his Neanderthals be more intelligent than Sapiens: unfortunately, the expression thereof is just unbelievable. Even beyond the characters, his society itself strains credulity. How exactly did the Neanderthals build an advanced world society without agriculture? What is its material basis, considering how many resources it takes to sustain scientific enterprises in the 21st century? The Neanderthals don’t use fossil fuels, so how on Earth did they go from hunter-gathers to the scientific and industrial revolutions?  They use solar power, fine — but what power did they use to produce the materials that solar plants need?   I’m sort of hoping that the next book, Humans, or the third, Hybrids, will answer those questions…which is why, even though  the series off to a problematic start, I’m planning to read more. Whatever its limitations, the central idea fascinates me.  

If you’d like to read a sample, there’s a chapter available here.

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Teaser Tuesday (20 November)

“I…no others. I….all…” He shook his head, and spoke again. The Companion switched to its female voice, speaking for itself. “I do not have the vocabulary  to translate what Ponter is saying.”
Mary nodded slowly. “The word you’re looking for,” she said gently, “is ‘alone'”. 

p. 196, Hominids, Robert Sawyer

“When his slaves began sneaking away to nearby Yankee camps, a Vicksburg planter asked the ‘patriarch’ of his slaves, Silas, if the elderly man and his wife were planning their escape as well. Oh, no, ‘Uncle Si’ reassured his owner, they were too old for that and they were going to stay right where they were. That night all the remaining slaves on the plantation slipped away, including the aged couple. When the planter rode out after them the next day, he found Uncle Si in the woods, bending over the lifeless body of his wife. The planter asked, not unsympathetically, why the old man would subject her to such a strenuous journey, one she clearly was not strong enough to endure. Silas replied simply that it couldn’t be helped, adding pensively, ‘But then, you see, she died free.’ “

p. 166, A South Divided: Portraits of Dissent in the Confederacy. David Downing.

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Space Chronicles

Space Chronicles: Facing the Ultimate Frontier
© 2012 Neil deGrasse Tyson; edited by Avis Lang
384 pages

On July 20th, 1969, America mesmerized the world by landing men on the Moon. For the first time in history, human feet stepped on the soil of another planet. But on July 21st. 2011, the Space Shuttle Atlantis touched down on the runway and the United States ceased to be a spacefaring nation, for the shuttle program had ended. Space Chronicles collects essays by astrophysicist and science advocate  Neil deGrasse Tyson which looks back on the history of the American space program and reflect on its legacy both to science and the human endeavor before arguing that the United States need to return to space with  bold ambitions.

Tyson first caught my attention a few years ago when a book described him as “the next Carl Sagan”.  Here, he lives up to expectations as a passionate science communicator: he is earnest, witty, and urgently excited about the matter at hand. Although  ostensibly about the exploration of space, Chronicles is more fundamentally a book about the value of science — and not just the knowledge itself, which enriches human experience and provides the spark for material progress, but of scientific thinking — skepticism and wonder. The epilogue, which stresses the value of the “Cosmic Perspective”, practically channels Sagan.

Science advocacy is the message, but Tyson uses the inspiring and exciting adventure of space exploration  as the messenger. Although enthusiastic about humanity’s accomplishments thus far, Tyson avoids being labeled a starry-eyed optimist by consistently stressing the pragmatic aspects of space exploration, the technological boons. It’s not the spin-off products like Velcro that Tyson has in mind, though: he points out that NASA’s endeavors have  effected progress in other fields through “cross-pollination”: one example he uses is that of the Hubble research team pioneering methods to put together meaningful conclusions from scant data while the telescope was impaired, methods that were adopted by cancer researchers to improve their analyses of mammograms.  More strikingly, though, he makes no attempt to interpret the space race of the 1960s as a bold, purposeful step forward in human exploration: instead, he sees it as being motivated by the desire for economic and military gains. Tyson emphasizes this not to convey cynicism about space exploration, but demonstrate how much was accomplished even though the motivations were less than inspiring, and to to point out that aerospace can continue to be a source of economic progress today.

In fact, aerospace is a source of progress for humans today, but not for Americans. Americans, Tyson laments, have gone backwards by standing still. Other nations are becoming the technological leaders of tomorrow, and Tyson — an American, writing to motivate his fellow citizens to start believing in and working for the future again — despairs of this. He sees hope in China’s aggressive ambitions in space: if competition with Russia sent us to the moon back in  1960s, perhaps competition with China will take us further.For the time being, however, even our past accomplishments are beyond us now.

Space Chronicles sees Tyson communicate a great deal — the history, motivation, and practical aspects of space flight, the value of science, critical thinking, and wonder, the United States’ emphatic need to re-prioritize science, mathematics, and industry — and do so with style. There is a slight weakness in the fact that Chronicles is an edited collection of essays and interviews, and not a monograph written as a cohesive whole. Repetition of certain facts, examples, and so on exists, but this is a weakness only and not a glaring flaw. As it stands, Chronicles  is impressive and engaging, of interest to both space enthusiastic and critics.

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This Week at the Library (16 November)

The postman was kind to me this week, delivering a batch of reading I’m very much looking forward to. Some of the books I received include works I’ve been intending to read all year long: Neil deGrasse Tyson’s Space Chronicles and Charles C. Mann’s 1493: Discovering the World Columbus Created. Adding to that is The Humans Who Went Extinct, which I’ve had on my ‘book wishlist’ since its inception, and the most recent book in the Star Trek Voyager Relaunch, The Eternal Tide. And who is that on the cover?

Janeway’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble
Hey-la, hey-la, Janeway’s back

Oh, what fun times we’ll have. Also, to go along with The Humans Who Went Extinct, I’m going to be exploring Robert Sawyer’s Neanderthal Parallax series, which establishes an alternate universe where Neanderthals, not Homo sapiens, are supreme on Earth. I have the first book, Hominids, checked out from the library.  My reading tends to flow in moods, and right now the prevailing wind is one of natural history.

Speaking of which, I finally finished Twilight of the Mammoths, which I began….months ago. I’d wanted to learn more about the megafauna that dominated the Americas before humans arrived. I’m utterly fascinated by the idea of primitive North America as a land of lions and cheetahs, a wilderness teeming more with large life than even Africa. As it turns out, a primary source for learning about ancient mammalian behaviour is…dung. Dung is mentioned more  in Twilight of the Mammoths than it is in Flushed: how the Plumber Saved Civilization. That I mark impressive, but it’s versatile stuff, dung. The oh-so-serious dung dissection didn’t interact well with my desire to be awed, so my interest trailed off until being reignited by Baxter and Pratchett’s The Long Earth, which involves as part of its setting an Earth in which humans never spread to the Americas, and so the native ecology is intact. Twilight exists to argue that human predation (“overkill”) was the primary cause of megafauna extinctions in the Americas, as opposed to climate change.  In the decades since Martin released this book, I believe overkill has become the standard explanation, but even so this is a worthwhile book for the curious mind. It puts overkill on solid ground for those new to it, provides a catalog of large animals that were driven into extinction,  and ends with a smaller argument advocating for the restoration of the prehuman ecology, one using still-living animals to replace the many gaps the spread of human civilization created. He suggests, for example, using camels to counter the spread of mesquite in the southwest.  

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