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Title: Seven Pillars of Wisdom: A Triumph
Author: T.E. Lawrence
Genre: Memoir
Thingummies: 2
Synopsis: Lawrence of Arabia's account of Arabia.
Thingummies: I was deeply disappointed by this book, but it's possible that was my fault.
Lawrence somehow manages to be self-deprecating and completely arrogant at the same time, in a way that's startlingly oblivious. (At one point, he compares his book to Gibbon's Rise and Fall. Umm, no.) I had hoped that by the end of the book, I would understand both the history of the Arab Revolt during World War I and Lawrence the man better. I'm not sure I actually understand either one better than when I started.
One of the most frustrating problems that quickly emerges is that Lawrence completely assumes that the reader is intimately familiar with all details of the chronology of the war, all of the history of the region, all of the people involved. We're dropped right into the middle and never given the slightest orientation. If events happen off page, we're lucky to ever hear about them. Allenby is tossed off as if we are as familiar with him as we are with Churchill--we get no real description of him, we never even get a first name, and I don't think there's even a title attached at first. (He's the British general in charge of the entire theater, by the way. The only reason I know this is because I saw the movie. God knows, I wouldn't have figured it out until halfway through the book, otherwise.) Allenby's capture of Jerusalem, a major turning point in the war? Mentioned in the second half of a sentance.
It's like this for everything. One can never tell how important a given event might be. Major battles Lawrence is in may get two pages. Major battles Lawrence was not in are lucky to be a passing reference. The capture of major intelligence is "we found letters of interest" (whose contents are never disclosed), the thwarting of a would-be spy is a nondescript paraphrased conversation. But a description of a completely random and meaningless feast? Four pages, in great detail. A very lame joke Lawrence once made? We get every detail, from the set-up, doubling back into the backstory of why it's funny, and then a detailed description of everyone's reaction. We find out that they've run out of supplies two chapters ago when there's finally an off-hand reference to the fact they've had no food for days. There's no way to actually understand the course of the war or any of the decisions made. There's no sense of tension, because it's never possible to evaluate stakes. It's just a never-ending round of meeting Arabs who will never be mentioned again and blowing up train tracks without a description of how it affects anything. The events of the book are as featureless as the desert itself.
As for Lawrence himself, we hear a great deal of meaningless detail but very little of importance. I know all about his costume, but not why he chose that particular costume. I know about how one time, he lay down and when he woke up, there were lice that crawled out of his hair. But I have no idea of why he was in Arabia in the first place. I know about his very mixed feelings about the English using the Arabs, but I don't know how he got himself into the situation. There is one shockingly intimate chapter in which he is captured in Deraa, tortured, possibly raped (or "just" sexually assaulted, it's not entirely clear). At the end, he declares that the citadel of his integrity has been breached, but it's never really mentioned again. The combination of English reserve and the overall oblique style makes it difficult to see how such a life-shattering event affected him. We know all about external details. He gives tiny hints of interal torment here and there. But we never get enough information to really understand how his mind works, despite spending almost 700 pages in it.
What we do know is that he likes flowery language. The writing is lyrical unto purple, with bits of elaborate racist theories thrown in for spice. It's beautiful, all right, but nearly opaque. Makes great cover, added to all that English reserve, so that you have to read paragraphs three times to actually figure out what the heck just happened.
Not helping are some typographical choices that I don't know who to blame for. There's a certain inability to stick to spellings. Feisal is spelled Faysul at random sometimes, for example; Jidda is Jeddah, and so on. When there's a new person introduced every other page (and usually dropped two pages later), it makes it difficult to keep track. Also, while the chapters are not named but just numbered, the top of every page has its own name. These names, however, are vague enough as to be no help at all in understanding what's going on or in finding a certain section. Someone spent a great deal of time labelling every single page with things like "Hunger and Precaution", followed by "Messengers", or "Safely Away"/"Over the Plain"/"Hot Winds"/"Until Sunset". ("Until Sunset" is a paragraph and a half. Seriously. This was worth taking the time to give its own name?)
The story is a fascinating one. It's a shame I didn't get to read it.
Author: T.E. Lawrence
Genre: Memoir
Thingummies: 2
Synopsis: Lawrence of Arabia's account of Arabia.
Thingummies: I was deeply disappointed by this book, but it's possible that was my fault.
Lawrence somehow manages to be self-deprecating and completely arrogant at the same time, in a way that's startlingly oblivious. (At one point, he compares his book to Gibbon's Rise and Fall. Umm, no.) I had hoped that by the end of the book, I would understand both the history of the Arab Revolt during World War I and Lawrence the man better. I'm not sure I actually understand either one better than when I started.
One of the most frustrating problems that quickly emerges is that Lawrence completely assumes that the reader is intimately familiar with all details of the chronology of the war, all of the history of the region, all of the people involved. We're dropped right into the middle and never given the slightest orientation. If events happen off page, we're lucky to ever hear about them. Allenby is tossed off as if we are as familiar with him as we are with Churchill--we get no real description of him, we never even get a first name, and I don't think there's even a title attached at first. (He's the British general in charge of the entire theater, by the way. The only reason I know this is because I saw the movie. God knows, I wouldn't have figured it out until halfway through the book, otherwise.) Allenby's capture of Jerusalem, a major turning point in the war? Mentioned in the second half of a sentance.
It's like this for everything. One can never tell how important a given event might be. Major battles Lawrence is in may get two pages. Major battles Lawrence was not in are lucky to be a passing reference. The capture of major intelligence is "we found letters of interest" (whose contents are never disclosed), the thwarting of a would-be spy is a nondescript paraphrased conversation. But a description of a completely random and meaningless feast? Four pages, in great detail. A very lame joke Lawrence once made? We get every detail, from the set-up, doubling back into the backstory of why it's funny, and then a detailed description of everyone's reaction. We find out that they've run out of supplies two chapters ago when there's finally an off-hand reference to the fact they've had no food for days. There's no way to actually understand the course of the war or any of the decisions made. There's no sense of tension, because it's never possible to evaluate stakes. It's just a never-ending round of meeting Arabs who will never be mentioned again and blowing up train tracks without a description of how it affects anything. The events of the book are as featureless as the desert itself.
As for Lawrence himself, we hear a great deal of meaningless detail but very little of importance. I know all about his costume, but not why he chose that particular costume. I know about how one time, he lay down and when he woke up, there were lice that crawled out of his hair. But I have no idea of why he was in Arabia in the first place. I know about his very mixed feelings about the English using the Arabs, but I don't know how he got himself into the situation. There is one shockingly intimate chapter in which he is captured in Deraa, tortured, possibly raped (or "just" sexually assaulted, it's not entirely clear). At the end, he declares that the citadel of his integrity has been breached, but it's never really mentioned again. The combination of English reserve and the overall oblique style makes it difficult to see how such a life-shattering event affected him. We know all about external details. He gives tiny hints of interal torment here and there. But we never get enough information to really understand how his mind works, despite spending almost 700 pages in it.
What we do know is that he likes flowery language. The writing is lyrical unto purple, with bits of elaborate racist theories thrown in for spice. It's beautiful, all right, but nearly opaque. Makes great cover, added to all that English reserve, so that you have to read paragraphs three times to actually figure out what the heck just happened.
Not helping are some typographical choices that I don't know who to blame for. There's a certain inability to stick to spellings. Feisal is spelled Faysul at random sometimes, for example; Jidda is Jeddah, and so on. When there's a new person introduced every other page (and usually dropped two pages later), it makes it difficult to keep track. Also, while the chapters are not named but just numbered, the top of every page has its own name. These names, however, are vague enough as to be no help at all in understanding what's going on or in finding a certain section. Someone spent a great deal of time labelling every single page with things like "Hunger and Precaution", followed by "Messengers", or "Safely Away"/"Over the Plain"/"Hot Winds"/"Until Sunset". ("Until Sunset" is a paragraph and a half. Seriously. This was worth taking the time to give its own name?)
The story is a fascinating one. It's a shame I didn't get to read it.
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Date: 2012-07-26 11:51 am (UTC)From:The lecturer on Victorian Britain keeps referring to so-and-so's book or diary or letters as a great read--and I'm glad he likes them, because then he quotes bits of them for us and since he's read them, that knowledge adds detail to his historical description, but I doubt I'd enjoy them quite as much as he did. Which is why he's a history professor and I am not.