Every book you will ever read will be a message from the past.
Think about it. Even if a book is written at break-neck speed, there’s an entire process
of editing, beta-reading, publishing contracts, manufacture and distribution
that takes a bit of time. Then there’s
the additional and varying lag-time of how long it takes you to learn of a
particular book’s existence. Sometimes,
especially with a series of novels, it’s easier to keep track of this last
factor. One can pre-order, pre-purchase,
pre-hold so as to get the book hot off the press.
But if you’re like me, you have a To Be Read Pile that is
dangerously close to knocking the International Space Station out of
orbit. So even if you do receive a book
ASAP, it may be buried under a pile of other books. (I can almost imagine the books I own saying
to my library holds, “Back of the line, take a number.”)
Back to the main point: because a book is a message from
the past, it behooves* a reader to not only be a lot geeky about literature,
but also a little geeky about history too. The further back a book’s publication goes into the annals of time, the
more a reader might have to dig to understand what the book’s contemporary
readers would have taken for granted. Try reading Jane Austen without learning about the social rules of 1800’s
Britain and you’ll soon understand what I mean.
I think my “To Be Read [History]” pile is possibly just
as tall as my pile of other miscellaneous books. Like good literature, nonfiction history
books serve a greater purpose than just entertainment: it helps the reader
better comprehend the world around them. If an architect wanted to understand the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the
first thing they would need would be to research the building’s
foundation. Thus, in order to understand
politics, sociology, international relations, conquests, wars, racial problems,
religious movements, and other things that are so prevalent in the news these
days, we should look to the foundation of our current world by reading history.
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One such book that I think does this well is The Death of Caesar: The Story of History's Most Famous Assassination. I imagine writing history
lends itself to two temptations:
- To elaborate and speculate and make almost a
novel out of events
- To stick only to what can be proven through
archaeological evidence and cross-referencing primary sources, basically turning
it into a textbook
A good history book walks the line between these two
extremes: shaping the facts into a story so that the average reader can
understand, remember, and maybe even apply to their everyday lives.
And that is what I liked about The Death of Caesar. The author, Barry Strauss, doesn’t just stick to the dry
facts of dates and locations and complicated Roman names. He tries to understand the social, political,
and psychological motivations of each of the people involved. And even better, he’s transparent about what
is known and what is surmised.
This is very important for learning about the legendary
assassination of Julius Caesar because, as I just said, this point of history
is legendary. Legends are created from emotions, romanticizing
people and actions. And for events that
go so far back in time it’s especially difficult to winnow out the facts from
the fables.
Another thing this book does very well is make it
relevant to readers now. Strauss looks
at how Caesar’s death was a pivot-point of history. It not only divides the era of Rome into the
two distinct parts of Republic and Empire, but it also was a defining moment in
the history of government. The death of
Caesar serves as a cautionary tale for all leaders (good or bad), lest they take it into
their head to abuse popularity and position to gain absolute power: sic semper tyrannis--Thus always to tyrants.
*I believe this is the first time in my entire life that I've had the occasion to use the word "behooves." It feels...livestocky.
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