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Grand unified books thread

Started by Syt, March 16, 2009, 01:52:42 AM

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Habbaku

Quote from: garbon on July 29, 2009, 05:34:16 PM
Sounds like a terrible and senseless book. :unsure:

That aptly describes most of Ellis' writing.
The medievals were only too right in taking nolo episcopari as the best reason a man could give to others for making him a bishop. Give me a king whose chief interest in life is stamps, railways, or race-horses; and who has the power to sack his Vizier (or whatever you care to call him) if he does not like the cut of his trousers.

Government is an abstract noun meaning the art and process of governing and it should be an offence to write it with a capital G or so as to refer to people.

-J. R. R. Tolkien

Syt

I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein's brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.
—Stephen Jay Gould

Proud owner of 42 Zoupa Points.

Habbaku

The medievals were only too right in taking nolo episcopari as the best reason a man could give to others for making him a bishop. Give me a king whose chief interest in life is stamps, railways, or race-horses; and who has the power to sack his Vizier (or whatever you care to call him) if he does not like the cut of his trousers.

Government is an abstract noun meaning the art and process of governing and it should be an offence to write it with a capital G or so as to refer to people.

-J. R. R. Tolkien

Syt

As a pleasant surprise Wilson's "Europe's Tragedy: A History of the Thirty Years' War" was delivered today, even though I ordered from UK and the book's official release date on Amazon was also today.

Here's a positive review of the Sunday Times:
http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/books/non-fiction/article6716310.ece

QuoteThe lead-lined window that sparked it all is still there, of course: you can even open it, and peer down to the dry moat into which the three Catholic imperial counsellors were cast on May 23, 1618 by a group of enraged Bohemian Protestant gentry. The room itself is on the fourth floor of the great Hradschin Palace, which looks over the river to the city of Prague. All is peaceful now, but it wasn't then; it was the epicentre of a storm that was to engulf much of Europe for the following three decades.

The famous tossing-out-of-the-window (the Defenestration of Prague) sparked off the tinderbox of animosities that had been building up between the Catholic Hapsburg authorities and the Protestant gentry since Luther had pinned his theses on the church door at Wittenberg back in 1517. ­Confessional hatreds, usually exacerbated by dynastic rivalries, class antagonisms and ­linguistic differences, had already torn France in two in the late-16th century, driven the Dutch revolt and Spanish counter-assault, and were soon to engulf the British Isles in their own civil war. But nothing compared with the scale and bloodiness that raged across Germany and surrounding lands from 1618 until the peace of Westphalia in 1648, and are the subjects of this gargantuan book. There are four epic, ­hegemonic, system-altering wars in the long sweep of modern European history — in reverse order, the second world war, the first world war, the Napoleonic war and, before all of them, the thirty years' war. In terms of proportionate bloodletting, the earliest may have been the worst of them all.

A little chronology will be helpful here. Like the later three conflicts, the thirty years' war started in a specific locale, and then spread and spread as more and more powers entered the fray. Originally, this was a ­conflict between the Holy Roman Emperor, the intensely Catholic Ferdinand II, and the independent-minded Protestant nobles in his Bohemian kingdom. But it was impossible for this not to spill over into the crowded German lands, where Catholic and Protestant rulers were arming themselves out of fear of what the other side might do. Bavaria (Catholic), Saxony (Protestant), the Palatinate (contested) all tumbled into war. Mercenaries from the poorer lands of Europe — ­Scotland, Ireland, Croatia — swarmed in for the killing and plunder. Protestant Denmark joined the fray in 1625. In July 1630 the greatest of Sweden's kings, Gustavus Adolphus, landed in Pomerania and swept south. By the mid-1630s, Spain, already drained by 60 years of the Dutch war, committed itself hugely into the German mire; unsurprisingly, the French statesman Richelieu felt he had at last to commit his own troops.

And so the war went on. Certain parts of the Rhineland and central Germany were torn apart by rampaging armies again and again, cities razed, churches burnt, animals slaughtered, crops destroyed and populations driven out in wintertime to starve in the woods — or be carried away by plague. "I would not believe a land could have been so despoiled had I not seen it with my own eyes," reported the Swedish general Mortaigne when he passed through northern Germany late in the war. Marburg, which had been occupied 11 times, had lost half its population by 1648. When the enraged and hungry imperial troops finally sacked the hold-out Protestant city of Magdeburg in 1631, it is estimated that only 5,000 of its 30,000 inhabitants survived the slaughter. Mothers and infants were impaled and defiled. What was done to the men is not describable. The destruction of the city by out-of-control mercenaries was a holocaust, never perhaps to be repeated in such ferocity until the Nazi-SS extermination squads went into the cities of the Ukraine in 1941-42. You do not understand Thomas Hobbes's ­contemporary plea for an absolute sovereign, a Leviathan, unless you first understand how terrified all observers were by this bloodstained anarchy.


The total population of the German empire dropped from 21m to just over 13m. Try to add to that the losses among the Swedes, French, Dutch, Scots, Croats, Italians and Spanish, and what might the total losses be? Say, 20m Europeans. Given the significantly smaller population of Europe then, it seems safe to say that, proportionate to population, the tangled, awful 1618-48 slaughters took away a higher percentage than the second world war's frightening 50m-60m dead. A recent poll in Germany on that country's many catastrophes gave the thirty years' war the "number one" vote, above 1914-18 and 1939-45. That itself makes one pause for thought.

This dreadful conflict attracted its historians virtually as soon as the combatants marched home, and some of the greatest European scholars have tried their hand at describing its dramatic unfolding and ­analysing its meanings. This is not easy: the true historian of the conflict should have command of German, French, Dutch, ­Swedish, English, Spanish, Italian and, if possible, Czech, Polish and Danish. That scholar should also be well versed in ­theology, diplomacy, military science and architecture, topology and climate history, and have a deep knowledge of the vast ­historiography about modern international relations, if only because the very emergence of the so-called Westphalian states-system after the 1648 settlement has led to many works on the nature of power-politics, statecraft, finance and military effectiveness.

So Peter Wilson, professor of history at the University of Hull, is a brave man to undertake a new general survey of one of the most long-lasting, multi-dimensional and controversial wars of all time. It is a joy to report that, at least in this reviewer's opinion, Europe's Tragedy succeeds brilliantly. It is huge both in its scene-setting and its unfolding narrative detail — you actually have to wait until page 272 before the counsellors are tossed out of the window — but the writing is not dense; it happily escapes from the turgid prose of so many of the German-language works that Wilson necessarily had to read and condense. From time to time I subjected his text to

the ultimate comparative test, by laying his battle-scene descriptions of, say, Breitenfeld, ­Nördlingen and Rocroi alongside the accounts of the same actions in CV Wedgwood's utterly sublime work, The Thirty Years' War (1938), which that precocious young woman composed as the clouds of another devastating war hung over Europe. Nobody in our ­modern age can write as wonderfully as she did, but Wilson's battle narratives are just fine. So are his accounts of high politics and diplomacy.

Who, then, after 1648 was a "great power"? Actually, a whole number of them. The chief feature of this lengthy conflict, from the ­perspective of the political scientist, was that the Hapsburg bid for mastery had been blunted; the possibility of a Hapsburg-­Catholic unipolar Europe had collapsed into multipolarity. Both Spain and Austria remained in the club of leading nations, even after defeat. (Austria was stubborn enough to survive the war of the Austrian succession, plus five Napoleonic assaults, and then drag everyone into the first world war.) Sweden remained the "Lion of the North", even after Gustavus's death at Lützen in 1632, until Peter the Great's Russia ended that pretension at the century's end. The France of Louis XIV was clearly to be the new top dog, but it faced a strong and tough United Provinces. Meanwhile, the outlier powers, Great Britain and Russia, were each gathering enormous strength. The stage was being set for another 300 years of European-driven conflict among the top five or six dogs until April 1945, when American and Soviet troops met, appropriately for our review, on the Elbe, only miles from some of the bloodiest battles of the thirty years' war, and demonstrated that the Eurocentric order was over.

It is to Wilson's credit that he can both offer the reader a detailed account of this ­terrible and complicated war and step back to give due summaries. His scholarship seems to me remarkable, his prose light and lovely, his judgments fair. This is a heavyweight book, no doubt. Sometimes, though, the very best of them have to be.

Many years ago, I took my two young sons repeatedly through the town gate of the ­village of Grunern, in the southern Black Forest, where we were living at the time. On the limestone gate were (in German) the words: "Destroyed by the Swedes, 1632. Rebuilt, 1648." It was hard at that time to explain to them what that all meant, and that around 30,000 small towns and villages across Europe were destroyed in that distant conflict. Decades later, I can now send them both a copy of Europe's Tragedy, and invite them to read it.

Look forward to reading it, and at 22.40 GBP I consider this a real bargain.
I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein's brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.
—Stephen Jay Gould

Proud owner of 42 Zoupa Points.

Ed Anger

Danny Parker's Battle of the bulge. -Readable
The Dread Empire. Always re-readable. A giant floating fetus rooting out treachery? Winnar.
Stay Alive...Let the Man Drive

BuddhaRhubarb

Quote from: Habbaku on July 29, 2009, 05:42:38 PM
Quote from: garbon on July 29, 2009, 05:34:16 PM
Sounds like a terrible and senseless book. :unsure:

That aptly describes most of Ellis' writing.

I'd say some, not most. I see Ellis as a 50/50 bet you will get either awesome  or the same old Authority ish stuff recycled with more ultraviolence and kink.
:p

Savonarola

I've been reading the Herbert Foster translation of Cassius Dio's "Rome."  I just got to the death of Caligula and got a chuckle out of the proceeding passage:

QuoteSo Gaius, who accomplished all these exploits in three years, nine
months, and twenty-eight days, learned by actual experience that he was
not a god.
In Italy, for thirty years under the Borgias, they had warfare, terror, murder and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland, they had brotherly love, they had five hundred years of democracy and peace—and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock

Habbaku

Quote from: BuddhaRhubarb on July 30, 2009, 11:42:20 AM
I'd say some, not most. I see Ellis as a 50/50 bet you will get either awesome  or the same old Authority ish stuff recycled with more ultraviolence and kink.

50/50 sounds about right.
The medievals were only too right in taking nolo episcopari as the best reason a man could give to others for making him a bishop. Give me a king whose chief interest in life is stamps, railways, or race-horses; and who has the power to sack his Vizier (or whatever you care to call him) if he does not like the cut of his trousers.

Government is an abstract noun meaning the art and process of governing and it should be an offence to write it with a capital G or so as to refer to people.

-J. R. R. Tolkien

lustindarkness

Quote from: lustindarkness on July 29, 2009, 12:58:54 PM
I would like to read Xenophon's Anabasis, are all translations just about the same or is there one I really should be looking for?
No military history nerds here?  :yeahright:
Grand Duke of Lurkdom

PDH

Quote from: lustindarkness on July 30, 2009, 08:06:53 PM
Quote from: lustindarkness on July 29, 2009, 12:58:54 PM
I would like to read Xenophon's Anabasis, are all translations just about the same or is there one I really should be looking for?
No military history nerds here?  :yeahright:
I suggest one translated into English.
How's that?
I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
-Umberto Eco

-------
"I'm pretty sure my level of depression has nothing to do with how much of a fucking asshole you are."

-CdM

lustindarkness

Quote from: PDH on July 30, 2009, 08:30:27 PM
Quote from: lustindarkness on July 30, 2009, 08:06:53 PM
Quote from: lustindarkness on July 29, 2009, 12:58:54 PM
I would like to read Xenophon's Anabasis, are all translations just about the same or is there one I really should be looking for?
No military history nerds here?  :yeahright:
I suggest one translated into English.
How's that?
Better than I expected. :hug:
Grand Duke of Lurkdom

Alatriste

Quote from: lustindarkness on July 30, 2009, 08:06:53 PM
Quote from: lustindarkness on July 29, 2009, 12:58:54 PM
I would like to read Xenophon's Anabasis, are all translations just about the same or is there one I really should be looking for?
No military history nerds here?  :yeahright:

Learn Greek, νooβ (noob in Greek) kekeke  :nerd:  :P

Now, seriously, the translation by H.G. Daykins is available in the web (and there is a modern "paper" edition too,

Anabasis: The March Up Country, transl. by H.G. Dakyns, El Paso Norte Press, 2007, ISBN 1934255033.

http://www.classicsarchive.com/A/books/Anabasis__translation_by_Dakyns_-_Xenophon/

lustindarkness

Quote from: Alatriste on July 31, 2009, 01:24:09 AM
Quote from: lustindarkness on July 30, 2009, 08:06:53 PM
Quote from: lustindarkness on July 29, 2009, 12:58:54 PM
I would like to read Xenophon's Anabasis, are all translations just about the same or is there one I really should be looking for?
No military history nerds here?  :yeahright:

Learn Greek, νooβ (noob in Greek) kekeke  :nerd:  :P

Now, seriously, the translation by H.G. Daykins is available in the web (and there is a modern "paper" edition too,

Anabasis: The March Up Country, transl. by H.G. Dakyns, El Paso Norte Press, 2007, ISBN 1934255033.

http://www.classicsarchive.com/A/books/Anabasis__translation_by_Dakyns_-_Xenophon/


Niiice, weekend reading!
But not sure if I'll do the ebook thing, I kinda like a good paperback book in my hands, we'll see. Thanks!
Grand Duke of Lurkdom

jimmy olsen

It is far better for the truth to tear my flesh to pieces, then for my soul to wander through darkness in eternal damnation.

Jet: So what kind of woman is she? What's Julia like?
Faye: Ordinary. The kind of beautiful, dangerous ordinary that you just can't leave alone.
Jet: I see.
Faye: Like an angel from the underworld. Or a devil from Paradise.
--------------------------------------------
1 Karma Chameleon point

Malthus

The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane—Marcus Aurelius