Osebol by Marit Kapla (translated by Peter Graves)

Marit Kapla was born in the small village of Osebol situated in the dense forests of rural Sweden. Though she's often lived elsewhere she's continuously returned to this humble location whose adult population is only about forty. In 2016/17 she conducted a series of interviews with the village's residents about their lives, the history of this location and their points of view. They range in age between 18 and 92 years old. Their accounts are presented in this book in short statements. While it's detailed at the bottom of each page who is speaking and their date of birth (in some cases there is also a date of death because some have since died), the way these narratives are arranged allows them to flow together as a continuous stream of speech. Gradually a larger picture of village life and its past emerges. Reading this book feels partly like watching a documentary about a single obscure location and partly like reading a highly accessible prose poem. It's both surprisingly compelling and comforting. In listening to the multiplicity of voices from this small Swedish village we come to understand the full spectrum of our society in microcosm - as well as getting to know the unique personalities and histories of an endearing group of people.

Though there are some young people still in the village the majority of its residents are much older. Fewer educational and employment opportunities mean the younger population has been moving away for years. Trees are no longer farmed in this region for timber and other industries such as tourism have been flailing which has left both the locals and regional government worse off. As such the public resources are crumbling – in particular a double arch bridge which can now only be used by pedestrians. The only way to drive in or out of the village is over a potholed dirt road leaving it almost cut off from the rest of the country. It's touching how this location comes to feel like a quiet island with its last remaining voices relating stories about a near-forgotten past and people who have long since died. Yet there is so much life and humanity in their stories it makes for compulsive reading. It's also not as melancholy as it might seem because of the humour which emerges from petty grievances which have played out over generations and droll observations such as “You don't see youngsters out on their bikes these days. They've started going out a bit more thanks to Pokemon Go.”

A wide range of points of view are presented concerning how both the shrinking village and the larger country should be governed. There's a more radical liberal who was a leader in a commune that existed in the village in the 1970s and a conservative family who blame a lack of funding for the community on an influx of refugees. There's someone who keeps a holiday home in Osebol and a relatively young person who moved to the village because they prefer small town living to city life. Some residents have family who have lived here for many generations and others are recent immigrants. There's a general sense that the village has gone from having a more communal spirit “when potatoes were grown who actually owned them became irrelevant and people took what they needed” to possessing a more insular nature “People used to get together in their homes and chat. Now you have to be invited before you go.” Naturally, the residents all have very different opinions about the quality of local life and characteristics of the region. The community is small enough that there is no one personality to an Osebol resident. As Istvan Foth observes: “In a place like this you don't have people around you you have individuals. You get closer to one another.” The book presents a beautiful portrait of a village which isn't very distinct on the surface but is filled with meaning because of the diverse people who inhabit it.

Otherlands by Thomas Halliday

I really enjoy watching nature documentaries about different animals and climates as well as science programs about the origins of the universe and the growing field of astrobiology. “Otherlands” is like a unique combination of these different scientific surveys. It examines several eras of Earth itself to provide a guided tour which stretches back to the origins of life. We start by viewing a specific region from 20,000 years ago and end up in a location 550 million years ago so that our own planet appears increasingly alien. From this vantage point the history of humans looks very small indeed. Halliday takes care not only to highlight particular plants, microorganisms and other living creatures which look increasingly peculiar the further back we go, but how the ecosystems of different eras worked as a whole given the geological makeup and weather conditions of the time. From this vantage point we can see how systems of life have come and gone on our planet, the staggered methods by which different lifeforms have evolved over time and how examining these things might show us what will happen to humankind in the future with the advent of climate change. It's an awe-inspiring journey which draws upon archeological evidence to transport the reader deep into the history of our planet.

I was drawn to reading this book after it was shortlisted for this year's Wainwright Prize for Nature Writing. The narrative is written in a highly personable style which made me as curious about what we're being shown as the author evidently felt in studying and recreating a picture of these different eras. Halliday's prose is very evocative making it easy to visualise how select parts of the planet appeared very different in these deep layers of history. While he makes comparisons to plants and animals we're familiar with, he takes care to highlight how they aren't necessarily from the same biological family and they inhabited a unique place within these past ecosystems. It's also noted how our common understanding of the origins of humankind and the study of this science itself has been influenced by different politics so Halliday strives to provide as de-politicised and science-based perspective as possible. Though this book is steeped in carefully-researched facts and carries a timely environmental message, it also revels in the wonders of what has come before including the first creature to exhibit parental care to its offspring, the largest waterfall to have ever existed and the startlingly diversity of lifeforms which arise in sync with the changing conditions of our planet. Though each chapter begins with a map of the planet from that particular era and a visual example of a life form that inhabited it, this feels like too sparse an amount of imagery to accompany such graphic text. I'd love to one day see this book turned into a nature television series which could further bring these periods of the planet's history to life.

The Ruin of All Witches by Malcolm Gaskill

Every year I look forward to browsing through the list of books nominated for The Wolfson History Prize. It's fun to pick a nonfiction book to dive into as I primarily read novels and this year is special as it's the award's 50th anniversary. In the past I've read some great titles such a biographies of Toussaint Louverture and Oscar Wilde as well as John Barton's absolutely fascinating account of “A History of the Bible”. This year I avidly read a true tale of mid-17th century puritanical fervour and paranoia in Springfield, a frontier town in New England. Malcolm Gaskill's “The Ruin of All Witches” is a fascinating account of a couple named Mary and Hugh Parsons who seemed set to start a flourishing family in the New World, but whose personalities and misfortunes led them to being marked as targets and tried as witches by their own neighbours.

My only previous knowledge of this area and time period comes from accounts of the Salem witch trials and acting in a production of Miller's 'The Crucible'. I mostly think of those horrific events as being the result of bouts of mass hysteria, but Gaskill gives an interesting elaboration on the economic, social and religious factors which contributed to the spate of witch trials that occurred during these decades in both England and the American colonies. The author gives a well judged overview of how large scale transformations in society directly contributed to the extreme actions of individuals. Though people in the small, rapidly-growing communities in New England had to rely on one another there was also a lot of envy and mistrust. Gaskill's research dramatically places us in the psychological mindset of these figures by drawing upon historical records and their testimonies.

Although this is a nonfiction account it reads at times very much like a novel and follows the arc of how this particular couple came to live in Springfield. There's even a descriptive list of the “principal characters” at the start of the book which is useful to refer back to while following this story. Though we know from the beginning of the book that they are fated, Gaskill compellingly traces the gradual breakdown of their relationship, incidents which led to their complete undoing and even how they come to suspect each other of making a pact with the devil. Working conditions for both women and men were very hard in these circumstances and the author gives a visceral understanding of this as well as how it could easily lead to simmering psychological turmoil. I felt a building sense of tension as the tale progressed as well as sympathy for the isolated figure of Mary who probably suffered from psychological issues which would today be labelled as mental health conditions.

With a modern mindset it's challenging to conceive that instances of spoilt pudding and discoloured milk could lead villagers to make serious accusations of witchcraft. However, add to that severe weather, devastating disease and a high death rate among children and the desperation to find a scapegoat becomes more clear. Though the accusations seem ridiculous and visions of the occult feel fanciful now, Gaskill hastens to remind us that “witchcraft was not some wild superstition but a serious expression of disorder embedded in politics, religion and law.” It's engaging how the author embeds us in this reality and the sobering result it produced for a couple in as precarious a position as Mary and Hugh. Though this book is rooted in a specific history, it also speaks more widely to how in times of great economic and social pressure people who differ from the norm are more likely to be unfairly prosecuted. This captivating historical account is a fitting memorial to one such instance of personal tragedy.

Black Spartacus by Sudhir Hazareesingh

I always look forward to seeing what books have been listed for the annual Wolfson History Prize which consistently highlights quality new nonfiction. Since its publication I've had my eye on reading Sudhir Hazareesingh's “Black Spartacus” because of its strikingly beautiful cover and a curiosity about its subject of Toussaint Louverture, a man born into slavery who became a military and political leader of The Haitian Revolution which occurred in the late 18th century. So its listing on this year's prize gave me the perfect excuse to dive into this fascinating and authoritative biography of a man who Hazareesingh dubs “the first black superhero of the modern age”. Indeed, Louverture appeared to have almost superhuman powers as the author describes how this was a man who consistently subsisted on only a few hours of sleep and consumed a meagre amount of food yet led battles from the front and utilized his considerable intelligence to strategize methods to build a Haiti liberated from slavery. This book is a fascinating account about his spectacular rise to power, the enormous challenges he faced, the competing myths surrounding him and his enduring legacy as a black leader with strong libertarian values. Like Spartacus, Louverture used his strength, intelligence and cunning to rise out of his oppressed origins and galvanize his brethren to follow.

What most impressed me about Louverture's incredible story is how strongly this general held onto his values even after his rise to power. The challenge for anyone who comes to prominence is how to maintain that position without being corrupted by it. Though there were numerous politically-motivated slanderous charges against Louverture suggesting he only sought to increase his personal finances, Hazareesingh carefully unpicks these in this biography showing how they are false. The author admits how difficult it is getting to the truth about Louverture's life since much information has been destroyed and Louverture himself presented contradictory accounts of his life out of a need for self preservation. Yet, through careful research and convincing arguments about the logic of Louverture's actions, we can surmise that he primarily wanted to build an independent nation where the black and white population could exist equally while maintaining amicable diplomatic ties with the country's former colonial master.

Louverture was a devout Roman Catholic and the author describes the influence which the locally practiced Vodou had upon him as well. He was also educated in the political philosophy of libertarianism which guided his belief that individuals should be accountable for themselves. This inspired Louverture to draft a constitution and set in place regulations to maintain order and enhance the independence of Haiti. Though he seemed to continuously beat the odds and live through terrifying ordeals, it seems almost sadly inevitable that Louverture couldn't survive the forces lined up against him which led to his betrayal, arrest and imprisonment in France where he eventually died in 1803. Yet, his far-reaching influence persisted through the years not only for anti-slavery and anti-colonial movements but also in emphasizing “shared ideals of justice and a vision of citizenship based on common political values rather than ethnicity”. He's such a compelling individual so it felt somewhat frustrating at times that we can't know more about his personal life since so little solid information exists. Instead, Hazareesingh focuses more on the military history and political battles which are well documented. While this is understandable, it made this book a less emotionally involving story than I would have ideally liked. Of course, that's the nature of biographies which must necessarily be rooted in fact. It left me hungry to read some of the novels inspired by his life which Hazareesingh mentions towards the end of the book. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure to read this passionate account of Louverture's life to learn more about this incredible figure and his enduring legacy.

It'll be exciting to see if “Black Spartacus” is named the winner of this year's Wolfson History Prize which will be announced in an online ceremony on June 9th at 6PM (BST) which you can watch here for free: https://www.wolfsonhistoryprize.org.uk/2021

Caste by Isabel Wilkerson

Like many people recently I've been observing the rise of populism and the continuing deadly effects of racial conflict (especially in the USA) with anger, frustration and sorrow. 'Why is this still happening?' is a question I continuously ask myself and seek answers for by reading a variety of journalists and listening to social commentators. I was aware of many of the historic reasons which would allow hierarchies and systems of injustice to remain in place, but reading Isabel Wilkerson's “Caste” has better equipped me with a framework, understanding and language with which to comprehend why society continues to experience such strident conflict. In this extensive, well-researched and compulsively-readable study the Pulitzer Prize winning journalist clearly defines the difference between racism and the caste system at the heart of American society by drawing parallels with the examples of Nazi Germany and the long-established caste system in India. In doing so, she powerfully describes the way artificial hierarchies in any society create a vicious imbalance of power that leads to the subjugation of a certain segment of the population. 

Wilkerson illustrates her points with many examples (both personal and well-documented historic cases) that bring her arguments to life and explain why progressive legislation alone can't dispel with persistent racism. Caste is a psychology that's been bred into the national identity leading to countless examples of injustice which have long-term detrimental effects for every member of our society. Although it shouldn't have surprised me, I was startled to learn how the Reichstag looked to codified racism in America to inform the anti-Jewish legislation created in their 1935 “Party Rally of Freedom” meeting in Nuremberg. The author also details many specific examples of how the caste systems in different nations has led to the dehumanization or deaths of individuals designated to be of lower caste. I felt a furious sympathy reading about the memories Wilkerson recounts where she as a woman of African American heritage has been slighted or discriminated against because of her position in the caste system – especially as someone who frequently inhabits spaces traditionally designated for the dominant caste. It reminded me of the importance of speaking up when witnessing examples of injustice and to examine more closely my own unconscious biases as a product of the caste system.

Some people try to explain or dismiss specific examples of racism as unfortunate isolated cases. For instance, it's frequently claimed that the many cases of US police officers using extreme force against unarmed black men are simply due to the actions of a few “bad apples”. Rather than trying to simplify these violations as extreme cases of racism, Wilkerson's book shows how it's important to understand that these actions are a consequence of the way people have been programmed to think and act within their caste. The primary tenets of caste are enumerated over a number of sections to show exactly how it functions and why it's so difficult to dispense with this system once it's in place. It's extremely enlightening how the author comprehensively shows the way everyone in society is subjected to this mindset and how we can only progress out of it by making heart-to-heart connections with people outside our designated caste rather than resorting to more violence.

I've read several reader reviews which criticise this book for its liberal political bias. This is not a study standing outside of a particular time and place. Rather, Wilkerson situates her arguments and her story in where we are here and now in Trump's presidency with the COVID-19 virus running rampant throughout America. The country is in turmoil and, as usual, people at the lower end of the caste system are struggling the most. Wilkerson uses objective facts and clearly-researched social analysis to delineate why we are in this position. It's much larger than any single election or figurehead. It's about working on a personal and political level to try to dispense with the caste system we're all unknowingly trapped within.

Since we're nearing the end of the year, I always enjoy looking at the 'best books of the year' and this book has appeared on multiple lists including from Publisher's Weekly and Time Magazine. I'm glad this encouraged me to pick up Wilkerson's tremendous study because I don't read that much nonfiction and it's given me such a different perspective on an important issue.

A History of the Bible: The Book and Its Faiths by John Barton

I don’t often read much nonfiction so I always look forward to following the Wolfson History Prize each year for guidance of what biographical or historical books I should catch up on. Last year I read Matthew Sturgis’ excellent biography of Oscar Wilde but this year I thought I’d challenge myself a bit more by reading priest and Oxford scholar John Barton’s much-acclaimed “A History of the Bible”. Firstly, I must declare that although I was raised with regular Sunday trips to a Lutheran church I am an atheist so my interest in the Bible comes from a purely secular point of view. To be honest, I’ve never had much interest in reading the Bible or thought deeply about its origins. However, its historical, social and cultural significance is of such magnitude that it feels like I should learn more about it. Barton’s intricately researched and well balanced account embraces the enormous challenge of tracing the history and many permutations of the text which makes up the Bible as used in the Judaic and Christian faiths. It was absolutely fascinating learning about its complex and lengthy history.

One of my biggest misconceptions about the Bible is that it has been at the absolute centre of both these major religions since their beginnings like a “sacred monolith between two black-leather covers”. Barton reasonably describes how Judaic and Christian faith reside more in their practices and traditions. While the Bible obviously provides many important religious insights for these faiths, they are not grounded in the Bible. It can’t be taken as a map that provides absolute laws about what is to be believed and Barton pointedly states that “Fundamentalists venerate a Bible that does not really exist, a perfect text that perfectly reflects what they believe.” This is because the actual text of the book in all its iterations and translations contains contradictory information and instruction. The Bible’s contents are instead “a repository of writings, both shaping and shaped by the two religions at various stages in their development”. This is an illuminating point of view which not only broadened my understanding of what the Bible actually is but how faith is most commonly practiced in these religions.

I was disappointed to see this event with Barton was cancelled because of the pandemic because it would have been fascinating to hear him discuss it

It’s admirable how thoroughly Barton traces the origins of the text of the Bible, detailing the many debating theories about how it was written and by whom. He also summarizes the popular consensus of scholarly research about when certain sections were completed in the form we have today. Of course, it’s very difficult to verify many details with absolute certainty; so much about the Bible’s true creation cannot be proved as it was transcribed and revised by so many different people over many years. Since I mostly read novels, I’m accustomed to reading any book as a story written by one author who created a certain narrative structure. But, of course, the Bible cannot and was not meant to be read in this way. So I found it illuminating how Barton describes the way in which different sections of the Bible weren’t intended to be chronological. Nor are many parts meant to be interpreted as providing a clear set of instructions. Instead, they were more likely meant to serve many different purposes in the practice of worship.

I’m not going to pretend to completely understand or to have fully absorbed the extensive amount of information and detailed explanations Barton provides in his book. As someone so unfamiliar with the structure and contents of the Bible, I did find reading Barton’s thorough history somewhat overwhelming at times. This is not at all a fault on the author’s part as he does a brilliant job at laying out so many complex and competing ideas about this religious text’s origins and purpose. But this historical account is over 600 pages long and there’s a lot to absorb! The Bible has obviously been scrutinized and fought over for hundreds of years. So delving into Barton’s impressive and very readable book has merely keyed me into how much more I have to learn - not only about where the Bible came from but why there is so much disagreement about its meaning. Certainly, I will never become a scholar of its text but I’m so grateful to have read Barton’s historical account as its given me an invaluable overview of the Bible’s place in these religions and our broader culture.

Thomas Cromwell by Diarmaid MacCulloch

I had a plan. It was a beautiful and logical plan that I was so excited to start. Having tried and failed to read Hilary Mantel’s “Wolf Hall” several years ago because I felt confounded by the politics of the Tudor period, I thought reading a biography about Thomas Cromwell would give me an informed background to start reading the novel again. “The Mirror and the Light”, the third part of Mantel’s much-lauded trilogy about Cromwell’s epic rise and fall is due to be published in March. So I want to catch up on the first two novels. Reading Mantel and MacCulloch side by side should be the perfect pairing because both authors compliment each other’s writing in their respective books. But wading through this biography was a big effort. MacCulloch conducted a lot of research using period documents and letters to piece together a narrative about Cromwell’s life detailing his instrumental role in the court of Henry VIII and the English Reformation. While this did give me a broad overview of the events surrounding his life and his political manoeuvres during this period of radical reform, it felt to me more like an academic book for people who have a specialist interest and knowledge about this historical period. As an amateur who wanted some basic understanding I felt alienated.

I know I must sound like a lazy schmo, but I frequently found so much of this book tedious. There are endless lists of names carefully detailing the trajectory of these individuals’ ranks and social status. There are long passages about political strategies which made my eyes glaze over. Even when it came to the bloody machinations of Henry’s reign that saw whole slews of people being beheaded or chopped up, the descriptions of these events made them sound like tiresome inevitabilities. Certainly there were some sections I found more engaging. Certain events gave me an interesting and different perspective and as well as new knowledge – especially concerning false starts in the Reformation and the economics surrounding the dissolution of the monasteries. I also occasionally found some small details interesting such as the large amount of money Henry spent creating a massive library – though he probably had other people read most of the books for him rather than reading them himself.

Where this biography really frustrated me was in what it brushed over in its 752 pages. Cromwell’s early life, development, marriage and early status as a widower are quickly dealt with to get to the meat of his professional career. Details about his downfall also feel strangely sparse as if the author wanted to quickly move onto his legacy and Henry’s regrets about having Cromwell’s head chopped off. I realise as a historian MacCulloch must stick to what can be verified rather than speculate or guess on the emotional status of the parties involved. In one section, MacCulloch even refers the reader to a scene from Mantel’s novel if they want to get a feeling for the inner lives of these historical figures. So this biography failed to come alive for me in the way that reading Matthew Sturgis’ equally long biography of Oscar Wilde did for me earlier this year. I think because I don’t possess a passion for this period of history or a reverence for the individuals involved I simply got impatient as if I was listening to a monotonous lecture.

This leaves me a bit apprehensive about restarting Mantel’s trilogy. It might be a blissful relief to experience these people and events dramatized in her imagination… or it might feel like being sat back in the classroom. I wouldn’t normally make such an effort to reread a novel, but I’ve read and loved Mantel’s novel “Beyond Black” and memoir “Giving Up the Ghost”. So I think this is an author worth making an effort for. The two novels in her trilogy thus far are also hugely critically acclaimed award winners so it makes me feel like an odd duck for not having fully engaged with them. I don’t mind having the dissenting opinion as there are novels such as “Milkman” and “First Love” which didn’t work as well for me as they did for the majority of readers. But I feel like I have to give “Wolf Hall” a second try before having a proper opinion about it. While I feel better equipped to do so having read this biography, it was an enormous slog I wouldn’t recommend to anyone who doesn’t have a scholarly interest.