Pompeii: A Masterclass in How to Write Historical Fiction

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Pompeii by Robert Harris, pub. 2003

Dear Robert Harris,

I am sorry. I am sorry that I left your book, Pompeii, moldering on my bedside bookshelf for … I don’t know … several years after I got it … I don’t know … from my husband’s trucker friend, from the library sale shelf, somewhere like that. I should have picked it up and read it immediately. I thought it was going to be demanding and … you know … educational. I didn’t know it was going to be educational. Or gripping. Or The Perfect Historical Novel.

Spoiler: Vesuvius Blows

I don’t know, reader, whether you would pick up a novel about Pompeii. Perhaps you would worry that the tension would be somewhat lacking, given how everyone knows that the mountain explodes and buries the town. It would be, you might think, sort of like reading a novel called John Dies at the End.

Harris, of course, uses the volcanic eruption’s very fame to his advantage. The people in Pompeii, and Herculaneum, and in the other towns around the bay of Neapolis, don’t know what is about to happen to them. This gives the opportunity for an infinite number of ironic quotes and thematic moments, such as the line, “I ought to die and come back to life more often,” when a narrow escape from death causes a character to be met with newfound respect. You spend much of the book wondering which, if any, of these people are going to survive.

The Historical Background

No, I am not going to sketch all the historical background here. I’ll just tell you that an awful lot is known about Roman society of this period, both general things about the culture, diet, and technology, and specific things about individuals like Pliny the Elder. (And Nero. Nero had a favorite moray eel, did you know that?) Harris makes excellent use of all this research to build a story that grows organically out of the who the characters are and what they value.

At the beginning of the book is a nice clear map of the Bay of Neapolis and surrounding regions, which is critical to visualizing the action of the book. Special attention is given to the Aqua Agusta, an aqueduct which runs from the Apenine Mountains, past all the towns in the region, with spurs providing water to Pompeii, Herculaneum, and so on, until it terminates at the naval base of Misenum, in a reservoir called the Piscina Mirabilis, “Miracle Pool.” When you see how close the Aqua Agusta runs to Vesuvius, you can see that an imminent eruption might well cause problems for the region’s water system.

The Hero

Marcus Attilius, the “aquarius,” comes from a family of men who build and maintain the empire’s aqueducts (which, by the way, like the Aqua Agusta, are often not elevated but rather are underground pipes). He was sent from Rome to Misenum two weeks ago after his predecessor, Exomnius, mysteriously disappeared. When the water running into Misenum first turns sulfurous and then starts to lose pressure, everyone is ready to blame Attilius for not having foreseen or prevented this.

Attilius, realizing the gravity of the situation, orders the city’s water supply to be shut off. There is enough in the Piscina Mirabilis to last Misenum two days with rationing. Attilius, based on which towns have lost water and which haven’t, thinks he knows approximately where the break in the aqueduct is. By pressing very hard, he hopes in two days to sail to Pompeii, send a team inland to find the exact source of the leak, send another team to re-direct the water farther upstream, buy supplies, and work through the night with a team of slaves to fix the blockage. In this way, he hopes to prevent riots and death in the towns without water. The reader knows that Attilius is also racing against time to find the reason the aqueduct broke.

We learn a lot about the Romans’ amazing aqueduct system. All the cities had, essentially, free water as a gift from the Empire. The underground pipe was six feet in diameter, with a three-foot thickness on either side made of the famous Roman cement, made with seawater, which could dry underwater and which got harder with time. There are maintenance manholes at regular intervals, and water sinks along the route which allow the water to drop rocks and silt it’s been carrying. These are then used for gravel.

The great Roman roads went crashing through nature in a straight line, brooking no opposition. But the aqueducts, which had to drop the width of a finger every hundred yards–any more and the flow would rupture the walls; any less and the water would lie stagnant–they were obliged to follow the contours of the ground. Their greatest glories, such as the triple-tiered bridge in southern Gaul, the highest in the world, that carried the aqueduct of Nemausus, were frequently far from human view.

page 181

The Villain

Ampliatus is a former slave. His master, who used him as a toy (yes, the Romans were horrible people), set him free in his will at the age of twenty. Ampliatus, by this time a ruthless social climber, began to amass wealth by buying real estate around Pompeii. Several years before the book opens, the city suffered an earthquake. Most of the aristocrats fled, but Ampliatus is unendingly proud of himself because he stayed, bought up a bunch of buildings on the cheap, fixed them up, and became the nouveau riche. By the time the book opens, he has bought his former master’s estate. His bedroom is the one where he used to be molested. He has gotten his former master’s son in debt to him, and is persuading him to marry Ampliatus’s daughter. He is building an ambitious bathhouse in the middle of the city. As Ampliatus says to the aquarius when he’s trying to corrupt him, water is key to civilization.

As a former slave, Ampliatus outdoes the aristocrats he imitates in both cruelty and ostentatiousness. There is a memorable scene of a feast Ampliatus gives, of the kind that historians would probably call sumptuous. It’s held in Ampliatus’ triclinium (dining room) on a swelteringly hot August night, and no one but Ampliatus wants to be there.

And the food! Did Ampliatus not understand that hot weather called for simple, cold dishes … then had come lobster, sea urchins, and, finally, mice rolled in honey and poppy seeds. … Sow’s udder stuffed with kidneys, with the sow’s vulva served as a side dish … Roast wild boar filled with live thrushes that flapped helplessly across the table as the belly was carved open … Then the delicacies: the tongues of storks and flamingoes (not too bad), but the tongue of a talking parrot had always looked to Popidius like nothing so much as a maggot. Then a stew of nightingales’ livers …

pp. 146 – 147

Reader, I have spared you the most disgusting parts of this dinner.

Ampliatus has commissioned a positive prophecy about the city of Pompeii from a sybil–an older female seer–and is keeping it in readiness for the next time he needs to get the people all excited … probably in order to ensure the election to public office of an aristocrat he has in his pocket. And here is what the sybil has said: Pompeii is going to be famous all over the world. Long after the Caesars’ power has faded, people from all over the world will walk Pompeii’s streets and marvel at its buildings. Ampliatus takes this as a very good sign.

The Scholar

Pliny the Elder, an actual historical person, makes an appearance as a prominent side character. Pliny was stationed as a peacetime admiral at Misenum. When Vesuvius started erupting, it was clearly visible across the bay. Pliny, who had written a whole encyclopedia about the natural world, received a message from an older female aristocrat in Herculaneum, begging him to come and save her library. (In Pompeii, this message is delivered by Attilius.) Pliny launched the navy without imperial permission, intending to save the library and also evacuate the towns near the eruption. But pumice falling from the sky, floating on the water, and clogging the bay prevented the ships from approaching the coast. Pliny and his crew were forced to take refuge belowdecks, and their ship was driven across the bay to Stabiae, where they took refuge overnight. Eventually, they had to evacuate on foot, but Pliny, who was fat and was perhaps suffering from congestive heart failure, chose to stay, and ended up dying in the gaseous cloud that swept along the coast.

The remarkable thing is that during this entire time, Pliny had his scribe with him, and he was dictating his observations about the “manifestation.” His notes were saved. It occurs to me that the stereotype of the British absentminded professor who is never rattled by anything, and always keeps his cool and approaches everything with perfect manners and scientific curiosity (and is an incurable snob), may have roots deeper than England itself.

Go read this book right now!

Despite the large amount of detail in this review, I assure you that I have merely scratched the surface and that this review contains very few spoilers for the novel. I really can’t say anything better about it than that it is, in my estimation, the perfect historical novel. Please go read it if you have any interest at all in the genre.

Numbers Chapter 25: A Manual for Misbehavior

On By Jennifer MugrageLeave a comment

Disclaimer: I write this post with fear and trembling.

The adult Sunday School in my tiny church is reading through the book of Numbers together. Numbers, although it does contain a lot of numbers of the census variety, also has a lot of other stuff too. It covers the Israelites’ journey from Sinai to the Promised Land, their second-guessing of the decision to go into the Promised Land, and then there’s a time skip and it picks up near the end of their forty years in the wilderness. Along the way, they have to deal with a lot of stuff. This is a large population that’s just been displaced and given a new set of laws to live by. They have the dangerously holy Tabernacle, plus their own tents, to manage. They’re in a survival situation, and they need to learn to move through the wilderness in an organized manner, to get along with each other, and to trust their leaders. There is an attempted coup every few chapters basically. That’s leaving aside the enemies they encounter, and the new problems that arise as their nation grows, such as how inheritance works when a man has only daughters. This is the book that has the bizarre episode with the “seraph-serpents” and the comedy/horror story of Balaam.

All this to say, Numbers will land as highly relevant for anyone who’s been in a tense situation with a group of people that you are trying to get to gel. If you’ve ever wondered, “Why can’t my church/school/family get along?”, remember that the people of Israel could not get along, or trust God for more than about a day, even though they had His visible glory cloud towering over their camp every night. This is human nature. As a teacher (not even a headmaster!) at a Christian school, it was hard not to sympathize with Moses, whose life is endangered a number of times, not from outside foes but from fellow Israelites who think they could do the leadership better.

So, in Numbers 25, we see the people of Israel (not all, but some of them) once again get dangerously out of control. This time, quite a few of the Israelite men start participating in worship of pagan gods because they have been invited to an orgy by women of the Moabites and (nomadic?) Midianites. We later find out that these ladies have been put up to this by Balaam, who in a previous chapter found himself unable to curse Israel directly, so he decided to go for undermining them instead.

This is a pretty big scandal, and Moses handles it as the recently given Law prescribes: namely, the death penalty for the offenders.

Not incidentally, a plague was also apparently raging through Israel as God’s response to this incident. The plague only stops when the death penalty has been carried out, but not before 24,000 people die of it. Although I believe this really happened, it’s hard not to notice the symbolism of a plague. That is indeed what sexual sin in an institution resembles. It’s an unclean disease that, if not swiftly dealt with, rages out of control and quickly claims many innocent victims.

I am not arguing for the death penalty for sexual sin in the Christian era (at least, not all sexual sin), but what I got out of this passage was: swift and decisive action.

The passage that struck me was this:

Moses said to Israel’s judges: “Each of you must put to death those of your men who have joined in worshipping the Baal of Peor.”

Num. 25:3

Seems simple, but what stood out me was the assumption that it was possible to find out which of the men had participated. Just that week, I’d read an article by a mom whose daughter was bullied from second through fourth grade. The only thing that stopped the bullying was that the parents pulled their daughter out of that school. As with many instances of bullying, the bullies were former friends whose parents wouldn’t admit to what was going on. The bullied girl was often made by teachers to apologize to the class, as if she were the source of trouble. At the same time, all the other children knew she was being mistreated, and would come home shaken up by what they had seen done to her.

Moses would have had those bullies expelled before the end of the first semester.

Now, I want to be careful here. As a teacher (not to mention a parent), I realize that it can be difficult, at first glance, to tell whether bullying is taking place. Sometimes, it’s friendship drama. (Every girl in fourth grade feels left out by every other girl.) Sometimes, you’ve got a sensitive kid and a rough game. My own kids used to accuse each other of “bullying me” when their brother did something that annoyed them. Almost always, the incident was not witnessed by the teacher. Often, there is a history that was also not witnessed. All that to say, unless you are willing to do a lot of investigation, and have Solomonic wisdom in weighing motives, it is very easy to accidentally identify the wrong person as the prime offender.

But what this passage tells me is that you do have to be willing to do a lot of investigating, and you do need to pray for Solomonic wisdom in weighing motives, and you need to do this as soon as you become aware of the problem. And this means you may need to set aside the original program for that hour or day.

This is what I strive to do. God help me! I don’t do it perfectly. But I know what not to do, which is what organizations naturally tend to do: Postpone, procrastinate, dither, wring their hands, “investigate” forever but never take any action, and above all, avoid coming to unpleasant conclusions. Meanwhile, the plague goes on raging.

Word that Mean Things, Part III

On By Jennifer Mugrage3 Comments

Capitalism, n.

  1. A term invented by Karl Marx to encapsulate his view that money, and owning private property, is spiritually degrading for people, in his book Das Kapital.
  2. A general term for modern post-industrial society, with special emphasis upon corrupt corporate bureaucracy, commercialism, and the “rat race” as distinctive features of “capitalism” and not just its byproducts.
  3. An all-purpose explanation for anything that goes wrong in the world, such as diseases, poverty, imposter syndrome, environmental degradation, stress, and death.
  4. Private property; the idea that people should be able to own their own houses, land, clothing, vehicles, etc., and keep the fruits of their labor.

You might notice some tension between definitions 3 and 4.

Long story short, Marx coined the term capitalism so he could make private property the world’s whipping boy, and boy howdy, did it work out for him!

A Great Book You Cannot Read

On By Jennifer Mugrage7 Comments

The book is called Everything Has a Shape. This particular book is book-shaped. It is a proof copy of a draft written by my brother-in-law, Andrew McKeeth. It’s nicely formatted and readable, but still needs an editor. The main remaining issue is malapropisms and homophones.

Everything Has a Shape is similar to Alice in Wonderland, except that it makes a lot more sense. Alice falls into a world of nonsense, whereas the protagonist of this book, Prism, the daughter of a geometer, is invited into a world where everything makes its own kind of sense.

Everything Has a Shape also reminded me of The Phantom Tollbooth. If you were a kid who loved to read, you probably stumbled across The Phantom Tollbooth and loved it. In that book, Milo travels through a world where everything is a physical manifestation of language. For example, you can see a huge crowd of adjectives thundering over a hill.

Everything Has a Shape is sort of the mirror image of The Phantom Tollbooth, because in the world Prism must navigate, the primary mental unit is not words, but shapes. In fact, the denizens of this new place tell Prism that they did not have language at all until humans started coming into their world.

And what is it called, this strange place that Prism visits? It’s called Place.

“We come from Place. Oh, sorry. Of course this probably doesn’t make any sense either. The place where I live is called Place. It really is a terrible name, I know, but it fit so well that nobody had the heart to change it. It used to be all Space before we called it Place. Anyway, we want to ask you about Nothing. You see in Place, where I come from, there is always something. You humans, however, do believe in Nothing. You think that there is such a thing as void and vacuum. In Place everything has a shape. Even Space, which might seem empty, is really just an undefined shape.”

“If there isn’t Nothing in Place,” [asked Prism], “why are you coming to ask about it?”

“Well, as far as we know there has never been Nothing in Place, but we are beginning to think that there might be a little bit of Nothing now. What is Nothing? Can you measure Nothing? I mean, if there is Nothing, how could you know it?”

Everything Has a Shape, p. 15

The book is full of conversations like this, and they only get worse, which is to say, more confusing but ultimately more insightful as well. I will post quotes from this book in a few weeks, because they are so thought-provoking.

Place, once Prism gets there, is understandably hard to describe, but the author does a fair job of it. It is a world folded over on itself, with a parallel ground above it, called Oversky. Think of it as looking like the center of the earth. Place is populated with strange creatures and paradoxical landscapes that look like an M.C. Escher drawing. There is also a population of humans whose ancestors got into Place years ago and have been living there ever since. Prism’s journey will, of course, take her all throughout this world. She often has to use mental tricks in order to be able to navigate Place’s physical reality. These are similar to the mental tricks we might have to use here on earth, such as occupying ourselves to make time go faster, or closing our eyes to navigate an illusion room, but Prism’s experience in Place is more intense.

Prism ultimately has to face The Twister, an entity that is introducing chaos into Place by convincing the creatures to deform their own shapes. The Twister makes a strong argument that nobody has an inherent shape of their own, that having an unchangeable shape is a kind of prison, and that by helping creatures to destroy their shapes, he is setting them free. Creatures who have encountered the Twister leave broken.

Prism’s time in the Twister’s tower is confusing and poignant, especially when she encounters the Likeness, a girl who looks exactly like Prism but claims to be a better version.

“Did you used to have a shape of your own?” Prism asked.

“You mean before I became a Likeness? Yes, I used to believe that lie, but then I realized the truth that there is no shape. It is better this way. I can be whatever I like. You can only be you.”

“As I said before,” Prism said, “if I could be everything, I would stop being anything. It’s true that I am stuck with my shape, but I’m the only one who can be me.”

“You’re wrong. I am you right now.”

“You’re a copy. You are ‘like’ me, true. You can be like anything you want but you can never be yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re passing up.”

“I would rather be me than be nobody.”

The Likeness grew angry and the real Prism wondered if she really looked that way when she got mad.

ibid, p. 166

As you can see, Everything Has a Shape is an insightful and compelling read. I hope it can be published someday so it can be enjoyed by more people. Furthermore, I would love to see an illustrated version. The scenes in this book would lend themselves to some amazing surrealist art. At the very least, it needs a beautifully done cover.

What do you think? Would you read Everything Has a Shape if it were available?

Quote: Women in Pubs

On By Jennifer Mugrage7 Comments

“Women,” Mart says with deep disapproval, appearing at Cal’s shoulder. “The pub’s full of women tonight.”

“They get everywhere,” Cal agrees gravely. “You reckon they should stay home and take care of the kids?”

“Ah, Jaysus, no. We’ve the twenty-first century here now. They’ve as much right to a night out as anyone. But they change the atmosphere of a place. You can’t deny that. Look at that, now.” Mart nods at the girl in the pink dress, who has started dancing with one of her girlfriends in a few square inches of space between the tables and the bar. “That’s disco behavior, that is. That’s what you get when there’s women in. They oughta have pubs of their own, so they can have their pint in peace without some potato-faced f-er trying to get into their knickers, and I can have mine without your man’s hormones getting in the air and spoiling the taste.”

“If they weren’t here,” Cal points out, “you’d be stuck looking at nothing better’n my hairy face for the evening.”

“True enough,” Mart concedes. “Some of the women in here tonight are a lot more scenic than yourself, no harm to you. Not all of them, but some.”

Tana French, The Hunter, pp. 120 – 121

The Trove, American Falls, Idaho

On By Jennifer Mugrage2 Comments

American Falls, Idaho, is the ultimate American Small Town.

What do I mean by Small Town?: a brief parenthesis

For those who are not American–by which I mean the United States–“small town” doesn’t have quite the same connotations as “village.” A “village” sounds older, like it might have been there for a thousand years, whereas a small town, because it’s in America, is no more than 300 and often only 100 years old. “Village” also sounds more homogenous (is everyone related?), and more rural. A village might have feuds and unspoken rules in it that go back a millennium. A small town, while it is getting a start on these things, is basically a recent, frontier development. Though there are founding families, there’s also a lot more movement. City folk come in, start businesses, or get jobs as teachers. Newcomers arrive from other small towns. Children grow up and leave. Americans are very mobile, and the composition and atmosphere of a small town reflects that. There isn’t as rigid a class system as in most other places. And, though American Falls, for example, is the county seat, there’s also a lot less bureaucracy and fewer government jobs than in a town of comparable size in Asia.

On the other hand, a “small town” is definitely not the same as “hood” (short for neighborhood), which is a village-like section of a large city. Small towns are typically located in farmland.

Anyway. American Falls has the following: a river. A hydroelectric dam. A railroad to take farm produce away to be sold. A lot with silos, trucks, and piles of produce near where this railroad passes through town. Lots of churches. Post office, barber shop, mom & pop shops on Main Street (tree-lined), one of which is of course a bar. A hometown football team. Gracious parks, a golf course, and a nearby cattle lot that you can smell most days. Pizza, Chinese, and Mexican restaurants, because this is America after all. It also has a small hospital, though like most people I prefer to take emergencies to the city hospital 25 minutes down the road. Oh, and a community theater!

You can walk around American Falls during the day without fear. Law and order is maintained. The town is hilly enough that, on these walks, you can catch glimpses of all these small-town features and feel as if you just stepped into a slightly more modern, drastically less New England Norman Rockwell painting. Rising above the town, on the southwest side, is the Big State Highway, and, beyond that, the rolling foothills.

I felt I had to burst into this paean to American Falls in order to set the scene for the main point of this post, which is that a delightfully hippie shop has come to our small town.

An Art Shop comes to our Small Town

This is the interior of The Trove, which opened in American Falls in May.

Here we are looking towards the back of the shop. Notice that it features jewelry, leather goods, and paintings involving UFOs. And that the owners are fond of 78 records.

I first heard about The Trove from a person I met at the town festival this summer. This person, who was buying one of my son’s paintings, suggested that The Trove might be happy to carry our work, since its stated mission is to showcase local artists. Although we don’t live actually in American Falls, we figured we might be local enough to count. We headed straight from the town festival to The Trove, with the trunk of our car still full of paintings. Long story short, the owners of The Trove were amenable to this idea, and that’s why some of the paintings pictured above are by my son Andrew.

The mountain and the storm are my paintings, hung under the owner’s paintings of space and a (manatee?), over some quilts, and beside dish towels.

The Trove was even happy to carry a copy of my trilogy! So, if you ever find yourself in southeast Idaho, and want a touristy, artsy shop with lots of cool stuff, know that American Falls has one.