Book Review: Richard J. Evans, The Pursuit of Power (London, 2016)

Rachael Caine

BA History

jmc18jpk@bangor.ac.uk

This book review was written by the author as part of the assessment for the first year module, Introduction to Modern History.
"The Pursuit of Power" is an ambitious book. Author, Richard J. Evans, former Regius Professor of History at the University of Cambridge, who was in 2012 knighted for his contribution to scholarship, prefaces his book with some admirable intentions: he wants this history of nineteenth century Europe to go beyond the European, and beyond the so-called "Great Men" of history. There will be Napoleon, certainly, but, alongside him, the story of his foot-soldier, who had no love for Napoleon and just wanted to go home. Like many before him, including Hobsbawm (to whom this book is dedicated) Evans endeavours to write a holistic history, placing the social and cultural side-by-side with the economic, political, and military. Furthermore, Evans rejects Eurocentric, individualistic histories of European states. Like his self-professed role model, the late Lord Acton of Cambridge Modern History, Evans’s mission statement appears to be that the history of Europe ought to be greater than its parts (the individual history of nations). He instead sets out to write a global, transnational history. Perhaps no work of history can claim to represent the past as it was, or indeed to include all of it in any given period, but ambitious works such as this one dare to try.

The book contains only 8 chapters, though at a colossal 848 pages the chapters are not lacking in content. Within this, Evans has attempted to categorise the period into distinct themes. It is refreshing that Evans does not go with the obvious choices, instead framing his chapters under fresh, interesting headlines, such as "The Age of Emotion"(exploring Romanticism across Europe in response to the ideas Enlightenment ), and "The Conquest of Nature" (which covers subjects as diverse as the invention of the steam train and growing-pains of the healthcare profession, all under the guise of man vs. nature).

The book’s unique selling-point, though, is the way in which a chapter begins with the story of one individual. From Jakob Walter, the unknown and unhappy foot-soldier of Napoleon I, to Emmeline Pankhurst, the famous Suffragette, these introductions are always an insightful read. Evans masterfully weaves these stories into the greater narrative of both the chapter, and the book in general, using them to illustrate the plight of the common man, and reminding us to think about the impact monumental events of the nineteenth century had on their contemporaries. This is a highly effective and powerful technique. For example, the story of Russian serf Savva Dmitrievich Purlevsky, retold from the rare and valuable primary source material of his memoirs highlights the universal plight of the serf, while exposing its nuances. Purlevsky was relatively well-off and literate, ergo, serfs were not a monolith. And yet, he too suffered greatly under the practice. Evans successfully makes the reader question pre-conceived notions of the past, gently encouraging the reader to think more deeply.

It is clear that the author seeks, in doing so, to right a perceived wrong in the historiography of the period, in that populations such as peasants, farmers, and women have been marginalised for too long. If only in a small way, Evans is helping to shine a light on those forgotten by posterity. He argues the compelling point that peasants and women were a huge percentage of the European population, and it does a great disservice to them, the literature of the period, and to ourselves, to brush them aside without comment or due attention.

That Evans leaves no stone unturned is hardly an exaggeration. In addition to the attention he gives to the major events of the era (in no small detail), wars and all, the book delves into topics a less-confident historian would leave to specialists: arts, literature, superstition, madness, and slavery to name a few. Evans is not afraid to venture outside Europe in his quest for a truly holistic history of Europe. Nor does he shy away from the dark consequences of Europe's ambition in the century. Evans is quick to point, for example, the horrific impacts of European Colonial ambition, such as the Belgian abuses in the Congo. In short, he is unflinching in discussing the history some may wish to forget. In the somewhat turbulent times we live in, it becomes increasingly important not to whitewash history, literally and otherwise. Evans does a sound job of keeping humanity in history above all else, without coming across as overly emotional or moralistic.

All this makes Evans’s book a valuable companion to the study of nineteenth century Europe, however, it may not be the students' go-to. The structure is perhaps too stylistic to be strictly academic. In fact, despite the author's historical credentials, this book makes no claim to be a textbook, and certainly not one which can be crammed before a test. The breadth and depth of Evans’s work is undeniable, but the unique structure and approach means it may not be appropriate as a core text on a university curriculum. It may be said of all books, but this one is not for everyone. At the aforementioned page count of 848 pages, it is a gargantuan piece of work, almost too comprehensive. Though the author intends it to be read chronologically, the scale and complexity of the book make this a mammoth undertaking, one which is not suitable for an introductory text. So, it is neither a textbook, nor a classic piece of popular history, but falls somewhere in-between. The danger here is that it leaves the potential for both audiences to be left unsatisfied. This is a concern, and it is of course down to personal taste, but Evans is compelling enough as both a writer and a historian to take the risk and be rewarded for it.

Despite its thoroughness, Evans offers no concluding chapter. Throughout the book, he makes no forceful arguments or unreasonably bold claims. He does not allow his personality or opinions to outshine the factual content, he simply encourages the reader to think more deeply and come to their own conclusions. After spanning almost 100 years, Evans’s book finishes on the ominous remark made by Sir Edward Grey, on the brink of the First World War: "The lamps are going out all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime." With this, as Evans neatly frames the nineteenth century between world-shaking wars, the value of his work is clear. History should be colourful, emotional, and not-without its challenges; it would be a discredit to humanity to tell it otherwise, so says Richard J. Evans.

The Four Great Classics of Chinese Literature

Tom Wilkinson-Gamble

BA Modern and Contemporary History

tmw19yjh@bangor.ac.uk

Journey to the West: Arguably the most famous of the four, Journey to the West was published in 16th century and written by the novelist and poet Wu Cheng’en. The novel chronicles the tale of   Tripitaka,  a   Buddhist  monk   tasked  by the Gautama   Buddha   with   collecting   a   series of sutras from ‘the West’ (India) and returning them to China. Tripitaka is joined by a colourful cast of characters; including the impulsive and easily excitable monkey god Sun Wukong, the half-man and half-pig monster Zhu Bajie (Piggy) who was kicked out of the heavens for harassing the lunar goddess Chang’e and the equally hideous Sha Wujing (Sandy), a heavenly general turned sand demon who was also fired from the heavens. Together, the group get caught up in a series of crazy scenarios during their adventure and are often forced to fight some form of demon or monster to progress with their journey. Thematically, the novel is pro-Buddhist and, at times, criticises the two other Chinese systems of belief; Taoism and Confucianism. For example, during the early chapters of the book, the failure of heavenly authorities to keep Sun Wukong in check can be viewed as a criticism of the neo-Confucian doctrine that inspired the imperial Chinese bureaucracy of the time. The novel ends with the group returning to China with the sutras and both Tripitaka and Sun gaining Buddhahood.

Romance of the Three Kingdoms: Despite being the only book in this group that might have some genuine historical grounding, Luo Guanzhong’s Romance of the Three Kingdoms gives a romanticised and dramatized account of the collapse of the Han dynasty at the end of the 2nd century. The novel begins with the death of Emperor Ling and how his son, Emperor Shao was manipulated by the eunuchs in the imperial court. This division then leads to the rise of the warlord Dong Zhuo and the subsequent coalition of Sun Jian, Liu Biao, Cao Cao and others against him. The novel ends with the war between the three remaining dynasties (Shu, Wei and Wu) and the rise of the new Jin dynasty. Though classed as historical fiction, the novel uses historical records as a basis; including Chen Shou's Records of the Three Kingdoms and Liu Yiqing's A New Account of the Tales of the World.

Water Margin: Like Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Water Margin is a military novel and follows the lives of a group of outlaws during the Song dynasty. At first the outlaws are pitted against the emperor, but they are pardoned and sent a series of military campaigns to suppress rebel movements and foreign invaders. Though the authorship of the novel remains unclear, it is generally attributed to Shi Nai'an but other candidates include the playwright Shi Hui or even Luo Guanzhong.

Dream of the Red Chamber: Written by Cao Xueqin in the mid-18th century, Dream of the Red Chamber is the most recent of the classics and was published in 1791. Unlike the two previous books, Dream of the Red Chamber is a love story and focuses on the relationship between three protagonists; Jia Baoyu, Lin Daiyu and Xue Baochai. Jia is set to marry the woman chosen by his family; the beautiful and graceful Xue. But in reality, he is in love with his melancholic and clumsy childhood-friend. In the background of this, we also witness the decline of two aristocratic families. This has been viewed by scholars as an allegory for the gradual decline of the Qing dynasty.

History Through Fiction

How Useful are the Realist Novels of T. Rowland Hughes as a historical Source?

James Churchill

PhD History

jmc18jpk@bangor.ac.uk

Little known of today outside Welsh language literary circles, Thomas Rowland Hughes was one of the shortest lived but most fascinating British writers of the 1940s. Writing in Welsh, his works were translated into English by Colonel Richard Ruck in the years following his death, however, in both languages his works are now difficult to trace except in certain specialist libraries. Rowland Hughes was far from prolific, producing a limited amount of poetry and only five novels before his death from Multiple Sclerosis at the age of forty six.[1] Although, it should be noted his present obscurity cannot merely be pinned down to a limited output, as this has not been a problem for other un-prolific writers, for example Jane Austen.

Book Review: Peter Watson, The German Genius, Europe’s Third Renaissance and the 20th Century (London, 2011)

Molly Southward

BA History

mls19htv@bangor.ac.uk

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/
12453484-the-german-genius

I first read this book while researching for my A-Level History course, focusing on the rise of youth groups in Germany between 1860 and 1972. As I skimmed through it for my coursework, I was intrigued and so bought a copy to read cover-to-cover later on. The fact this book stood out to me in the sea of German history books I was reading at the time clearly speaks for itself. In this book, Peter Watson aims to show that there is so much more to German history than the Holocaust, despite it obviously being a crucial topic that should not be dismissed. He clearly achieves this aim.

The length of the book, which stands at 850 pages, shows the amount of work and scholarship that has gone into the publication. Throughout the book, Watson raises many questions about the type of German history that has been perpetuated in the mainstream. This is so refreshing and makes the reader realise how little German history, other than the war period, is in circulation in the UK. It stands defiantly as the antidote to ignorance that Watson intended it to be. This is also addressed in the book’s introduction, which discusses the impact that this fragmented historical knowledge is having on the relationship between Britain and Germany, and what the future repercussions of this may be.

The book gives an overview of modern German history. It covers a wide range of topics from 1750 to 2010, though many are only skimmed briefly because of the scope of this ambition. This also means it’s not a quick read, but anyone interested in Germany, or culture, sciences and the arts specifically, will really appreciate this. It is astonishing how much one country has created and influenced the culture and world of today. Many references to books, poetry, plays and art are made throughout. Linked to this, some German is used in the book which, for people unfamiliar with the language, may take away from their enjoyment of it, especially since it can sometimes slow the pace of the book. However, it does also add to the narrative and certainly allows the reader to be more immersed in authentic classical European culture. There is a highly academic tone and a plethora of new ideas and concepts introduced throughout the book: for example, philosophical, psychological and classical studies which are often not addressed in such detail in more ‘traditional’ history monographs. This can, again, feel daunting at times.

It is understandable that the author does not completely ignore Hitler’s rise to power, the Nazi years and the Second World War. However, only three chapters are devoted to this, and most of the focus is placed on the impact the war had on the arts, scientific developments and scholarship in Germany, as opposed to limiting itself to a regurgitation of the infamous policies and atrocities that took place at the time. This is a highly effective way to deal with what could have a potentially problematic part of this book and, with this approach, Watson is able to add a new dimension to the reader’s understanding of the German past.

Ordered chronologically, each chapter is played out in such a way that it is almost broken down into individual stories or events. The author uses every opportunity to add as much information as possible. Alongside the main body of text is a list of 32 influential Germans that are not mentioned in the rest of the book. There is also a lot of narrative that lends itself to further investigation. This is helped by the 70 pages of notes and references at the end of the book, though they are mostly modern, and not so much primary material, which may be detrimental at times.

One thing to note, however, is the conservative religious and political views of the author which occasionally surface in the text. These are, arguably, unnecessary remarks towards certain people and their actions. This can sometimes detract from the objectivity of the author and will not be to everyone’s taste. They also make the book potentially difficult to read; however, the depth of knowledge shown, although not excusing these views, does still give the book merit and makes it a worthy read.

To conclude, I understand this book might not be to everyone’s taste, that it’s not the quickest or at times easiest to read and it may not be the best book to start your journey into German or cultural history. However, I would highly recommend the book if German culture and science are topics that interest you. Even if there’s only one small part of it that does entice you, the range of subjects covered will give it a wide appeal. It is an incredibly informative and well-written read on an understudied topic: you will certainly take something away from reading The German Genius.

The Greatest Welsh Writer of the Twentieth Century...

(and the chances are you have never heard of him…)

Stuart Stanton

MPhil History

hip81b@bangor.ac.uk

The Newport-published South Wales Argus, a daily newspaper whose catchment area is essentially the county of Monmouthshire, has claim to have been the most radical Welsh journal of its type. Founded in 1892 and initially edited by Sir Garrod Thomas - a Welsh- speaking native of Cardigan who achieved membership of the Royal College of Physicians before settling in the town - the Argus became fully established during the Great War, strongly supporting the war effort and speaking out against undemocratic actions by Newport Town Council. Born in the town in 1882, Fred Hando qualified as a schoolteacher and also saw service in the War. A chat with the Argus’ editor, W.J.T. Collins in 1922 led to the first of what was intended to be an occasional series of notes from various locations, entitled ‘Rambles in Gwent’. The series continued up to an astronomical total of 795, concluding on February 13, 1970, just a few days before Fred’s death.