Saturday, 22 March 2025

Book review: The Lion of Comarre and Against the Fall of Night, and Earthlight

PXL_20250322_095938157 Two rather low-grade Arthur C. Clarks. Both have an unfortunate combination of not-terribly-interesting storylines, combined with his rather clunky writing.

The Lion of Comarre is a sort-of very early prequel to The City and the Stars, and Against the Fall of Night is I think effectively an early draft of TCATS (both, at wiki). I didn't read much of ATFON, to tell you the truth. As to TLOC: we're around the year 2600 or perhaps later, but not far-future; the world is somewhat bland and has ceased to advance scientifically (although weirdly at one point a science-y guy says "oh of course in 50 years we'll have an interstellar drive", as though that kind of thing could possibly be predicted, never mind) and Our Hero goes off to find the Mysterious Lost City of Comarre where his near-genetic-equal genius-engineer forebear was last seen. Finding the MLCOC turns out to be trivially easy; he goes in and discovers that everyone is asleep in machine-produced consensual dreams. Being a total clown he attempts to awaken the sleepers, and discovers to his astonishment that the withered old men prefer the world of dreams where they are young and virile again; who could possibly have guessed? Certainly not Our Hero. After that he leaves, having been saved from the Robot Boss's grasp by the aforementioned Lion, who otherwise takes minimal part in the story. And so Our Hero goes back to the world, clutching his forebear's notebook of last projects, fired by enthusiasm to excel, or something.

Earthlight features a lunar observatory, and Our Hero is now a security agent masquerading as an accountant, sent to discover who is leaking info to the Federation (of outer planets) who are not very happy with Earth hogging all the heavy metals. As you would expect, girls put punch cards into the computers while men do all the story. In the end, Earth is mining nearby (why?) and puts its "fortress" in the same place (why?) and when the Federation decide to attack the Earth outposts on the Moon, they inexplicably choose to attack the strongest point, FFS why? There's a dead exciting space battle which wiki tells me is modelled on ("in homage to") E. E. Doc Smith, who did these things better. Clarke arranges that both sides, effectively, lose; they reflect deeply upon this and decide that being nice in the future is a much better idea and disappear off to the stars hand in hand. There's a desperately-exciting space-rescue towards the end which is carefully arranged to need people to breathe vacuum for a bit; I skipped that as I've read it a zillion times elsewhere, but perhaps it was new then.

Tuesday, 18 March 2025

Book review: the War with Hannibal

PXL_20250317_095259993A classic - look it even says so - a portion of Livy's History of Rome. Not being a scholar I forget the exact details but much of this is sourced to the lost works of Polybius; and the introduction and various footnotes are somewhat sniffy about Livy's qualities; but I'll take it all as read. Much like Thucydides he has at suitable moments inserted speeches from the generals, or the senate, and it seems like that these are "what he felt should have been said at that point" rather than actual verbatim reports.

As well as the actual battle reports he tells us every year about the election of the new consuls, and aediles, and so on; which the Romans faithfully did all throughout the war; and how they got their commands - via decision in the Senate, or by lot, or by agreement - and this all gives the impression of a well-ordered republic that even at times of stress, when the rules needed to be adapted, it was all done according to rules. We don't see this from the Carthaginian side. Oh, and they took their signs-and-portents very seriously.

The history is very much one of battles, with a few notes about one side or another ravaging the countryside, and sometimes being short of grain. But what one sees is both sides constantly raising fresh troops, although I get a slight impression that the Romans are more raising their own, whereas the Carthaginians are raising Spanish and Gauls and Numidians and so on. So my suspicion is that the Roman state was just bigger, and more productive, and that an economic history would make this much clearer. Somewhat in the way that economics, and the vast USAnian productivity, would tell you that the USA was going to win the Pacific war in WWII without actually having to look at the details. Livy always counts armies by total number of troops, foot and horse separately. Sometimes he notes that some were raw troops, or peasants pressed into service. But usually he just goes by numbers. I'm curious if the commanders thought that way, too. But they must have been aware that veteran well-armed-and-armoured legionnaires would destroy many times their number of peasants.

So the story goes: Hannibal, starting in Spain, with a lust for glory (Livy lavishes praise upon Hannibal's qualities as a general - possibly in part to excuse Roman failures - but calls him cruel, treacherous and faithless as a person), attacks a random Roman city in Spain then crosses the Alps with great hardship into Italy. Note that he doesn't do this as a surprise attack - the Romans are fully aware he has crossed, though not his exact track - but, oddly, as the easiest way to get there. I completely don't understand why he didn't go by ship. Anyway: once there, he decisively defeats several Roman armies and may have been only a short hesitation away from taking Rome itself. But he does hesitate, and after that, even though he wanders around Italy for years - indeed, more than a decade - variously taking and losing cities and battles and ending up for no obvious reason all the way down in Bruttium, he seems to become largely irrelevant. He isn't the only Carth general - there's Mago, and more than one Hasdrubal - but as the title hints, he is the main one, in a way that isn't matched on the Roman side.

I thought that "Hannibal crosses the Alps" was most of the story but no: that is only chapter one. In subsequent chapters - the book is arranged by years, this is convenient as the Roman commanders change with the years - we go back to the war in Spain, which ebbs and flows, with Roman consul-lead armies getting destroyed and re-created, and in the end Scipio Africanus-to-be comes in and kicks the Carthaginians out. As a sub plot there's action in the East too, with Philip being encoured to cause trouble by the Carths, but all that generally seems to fizzle out. And then in the end, Scipio crosses to Africa - which finally pulls Hannibal out of Italy, since they now need him to save Carthage - and wins. This BTW is the second not the third Punic war, so Carthage is merely captured, not destroyed, and peace is made.

Speaking of peace: a strong lesson from all this - and it's the same from the Peloponesian war - is that the side that is winning never wants to make peace. At various points the Romans are on the ropes, and so at that point the Carths are all gungo-ho; and then later the Carths sue for peace - and actually the Romans give them an armistice, but it breaks down, and the Romans crush them. Although individuals on either side have enough foresight to say "we're doing well now, let's not risk everything, we should agree to peace", the weight of opinion always overrides these sane voices.

In terms of war, the lesson - also hammered home in Ceasar's stuff - is that poor generals can get a lot of people killed. "poor" usually means rash, or careless; but it sometimes means over-cautious.

Life was pretty grim back then, and I suspect most of the soldiering took place under circumstances that we would nowadays consider intolerable, much like Sherman's marches in the US civil war. Livy reports with little comment that, when cities were captured, any Roman deserters captured were crucified. So lots of other stuff we'd consider terrible probably isn't even mentioned.

Saturday, 15 March 2025

Book review: the Clocks

markup_1000030520 Another Christie. Quite good I think, but nonetheless I shall pick at flaws. We're back in the usual Christie-like England: secretarial bureau, rows of houses, detective inspectors and so on. Foreign intrudes (spoilers) in the source of the money to drive the plot - in a burst of invention the money is now Canadian instead of that old staple, the Americans - and in the source of Spying to drive the, ermm, sub-plot as it turns out to be. That's one of the disappoinments: the sub-plot turns out to be entirely disconnected to the real plot.

Anyway, someone is murdered, it isn't clear who he is. By bizarre coincidence "Colin Lamb" (who may be the same as “Adam Goodman” of Cat Among the Pigeons), is in the neighbourhood at the time, looking for spies. He has the usual scrap of paper from a predecessor telling him it's number 61; and the murder occurs at number 19; and somehow he fails to realise what I did instantly, that if you turn the paper over then... however, that's just a red herring, because while Miss Pebmarsh gets done for spying right at the end, that has nothing to do with the plot and is merely an excuse for CL being on scene. So that's deffo a defect.

The real plot I think works, almost entirely. And the manner of it being dreamt up I like. And the second-wife bit is nice.

The thing wrong, though, is the money. This is a significant inheritance from a rich man and yet our builder doesn't choose to move; or stop his business work. Even more mysteriously Miss Martindale continues to run her agency. I don't think that's believable. I think it works in Christie's mind because the inheritance is to her just a plot element; it isn't something you're supposed to try and use.

Minor: when Edna almost talked to the detective, and then once again, saying "well I don't think that could be true" I knew instantly that she would be killed. And lo, she was. Chsitie has used that too often. And there's also the rather improbable actually-being-prepared-to-strangle-someone-in-public, which is dubious. Ditto the third death. Indeed the "first death carefully planned, second and third deaths less so" is a bit of a recurring trope; and something of a poor reflection on Poirot: obviously he could not prevent the first death, but he could if he was quicker stop #2 and #3.