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

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.

Oscar: A Life by Matthew Sturgis

I don't often read biographies but when I saw that Matthew Sturgis' recent book on Oscar Wilde has been shortlisted for this year's prestigious Wolfson History Prize I thought this would be a great opportunity to learn more about Wilde's life. Sturgis' extensive biography is deliciously comprehensive and draws upon a lot of recent research and untapped material about Wilde to give a really authoritative, well-rounded understanding of this infamous, irresistibly flamboyant and brilliant writer. I've previously read Wilde's most famous fiction as well as several of his plays (I even acted in a production of Lady Windermere's Fan) but I knew little about the trajectory of his life. I was only aware that he was a famous wit whose health and success went into sharp decline after he was tried and imprisoned for gross indecency with men. For instance, Rupert Everett's recent film 'The Happy Prince' is a really sympathetic depiction of the melancholy later years of Wilde's life. Sturgis documents in detail Wilde's family life and many social connections, his rise to fame and the gradual formation of his writing craft, the way his aesthetic principles connected to the expression of his sexuality and, of course, Wilde's tragic downfall from social darling to condemned sodomite. In doing so he has created a masterful portrait of Wilde capturing the rare flame of his brilliance and the gross injustice of his persecution. 

In 2017 I went to an exhibit at the Tate Britain on the subject of 'Queer British Art' and within the gallery hung the large door from Wilde's prison cell. To be confronted with the ugly impenetrable barrier to the artist's freedom was quite moving and brought home the reality of his situation. One could think seeing such a brutal object that this was Wilde's inevitable fate. The challenge of biographies is to present the history of a life while showing that circumstance and coincidence determined what happened to this individual (rather than fate.) This biography begins with a scandalous and much publicised sex trial – but it was for Wilde's father and not Oscar himself. Wilde's father was a doctor accused of inappropriate behaviour with his client. He was exonerated of the charges (partly because of his very respected social position) even though he was certainly a philanderer who fathered a number of illegitimate children. This was sadly not the case with Oscar many years later whose sexual activity happened to be deemed socially unacceptable and so he met severe punishment. Sturgis draws this contrast in a meaningful way.

It's fascinating and surprising to read about Wilde's early life as a rambunctious sporty child in Ireland. I would have assumed that his mannered sense of being was inborn but it appears that (though it was certainly heartfelt) it was a way of presenting himself as one of the leaders of the aestheticism. This was a movement which focused on the aesthetic values rather than political or moral content of literature and art objects. The often flamboyant dress code and posturing which coincided with this was one which periodicals delighted in parodying. It was so interesting to learn how Wilde played into this by connecting himself to such depictions and self-consciously crafted a way of presenting himself in order to achieve fame. And what was especially curious was that Wilde obtained such a level of fame before he'd even published much. I was previously aware that he embarked on extensive lecture tours across America and the United Kingdom, but I assumed that he only did so after the fame of his plays. However, it was quite the reverse. He fervently attempted and failed to get plays produced while simultaneously filling theatres with patrons eager to hear his witticisms about an aesthetic's decorum and manner. This biography taught me what a struggle Wilde had achieving literary success even though he was clearly ferociously intelligent and funny; it just took time for him to learn how to harness this into an art form which would pay his considerable bills.

Certainly not everyone agreed with Wilde's values and dandy persona. His opinions ran counter to the beliefs of the times so naturally earned him a lot of scorn – as did the petty vengeance which comes within small art circles. But no one could deny Wilde's entertaining style of delivery so it firmly fixed him in the public eye. It was interesting to learn in Sturgis' biography how Wilde attempted to embark in a number of professions before earning money from his own writing. For instance, he reviewed books but hilariously Wilde didn't believe it was necessary or even appropriate to read the entire book he was reviewing. No doubt this position stemmed more from his reluctance to spend so much time on these books.

It's difficult to imagine how Wilde could be extracted from his famous public persona which persists today in legend and the many photos taken of him in elaborate garb. For instance, actor Ezra Miller cites Wilde as one of his style icons. Perhaps Wilde wouldn't have developed his literary talents without this way of presenting himself (as well as indulging in his excessive lifestyle), but it meant that though he was a great genius his literary output was relatively low. The time he hit his stride having a number of very successful plays produced was also the time that he became most entangled with Lord Douglas (Bosie). Because Bosie's father so viciously harassed Wilde and Bosie to end their relationship the couple attempted to sue him for libel and lost. This also unfortunately meant that the testimonies from that trial led to Wilde's own persecution and incarceration. Sturgis' biography details how this end perhaps wasn't inevitable. Of course, the primary cause of his downfall was the prejudice of the time and this paired with Wilde's inflexibility about being who he was and living how he wanted led to his ruin. Wilde should be celebrated for pursing his desires and bravely standing in the face of such condemnation, but it sadly meant that his life was cut short and curtailed his literary output. Sturgis' impressive biography elucidates this struggle in a meaningful and memorable way.