![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Thank you all for your expressions of sympathy. It helps, as much as anything can. And now returning to our regularly scheduled programming…
The Time-Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England by Ian Mortimer The title might say most of it – but I’ll elaborate a little more. To start with, Mortimer picks just one century of the middle ages, the tumultuous 14th century, home to Chaucer and the Great Plague and my favorite fashions, among other things. Rather than the standard approach of looking at the important people and events, he talks about what you’d need to know if you were actually to go to fourteenth century England as a tourist. What would the landscape look and sound like? How should you behave and what should you wear so as not to offend anyone? How do the different types of people live and eat? I found that I had to skip the detailed chapter on medical care, though that depends on your personal tolerance level. Still, so many aspects were covered and wittily described that I found myself engrossed and frequently wanting to share. Alas, my love decided that he wanted to read the book as well and so would not let me. Mortimer also discusses the philosophy behind his approach – reminding us that these were real people who shared a basic humanity with us and whose actions continue to affect life in modern-day England (this is explained in more detail especially in the legal chapter.) It’s unfair, he says, to call a fourteenth-century housewife dirty because she doesn’t clean with antibacterial wipes – our cleaning methods will probably seem ineffectual in 700 years, too, but that doesn’t mean that either we or the hypothetical housewives don’t care about cleanliness. There’s a lot to enjoy here both for the history buff and the re-enactor, and the annotated end-notes give even more commentary and jumping-off points for those who want to take it further.
The Time-Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England by Ian Mortimer The title might say most of it – but I’ll elaborate a little more. To start with, Mortimer picks just one century of the middle ages, the tumultuous 14th century, home to Chaucer and the Great Plague and my favorite fashions, among other things. Rather than the standard approach of looking at the important people and events, he talks about what you’d need to know if you were actually to go to fourteenth century England as a tourist. What would the landscape look and sound like? How should you behave and what should you wear so as not to offend anyone? How do the different types of people live and eat? I found that I had to skip the detailed chapter on medical care, though that depends on your personal tolerance level. Still, so many aspects were covered and wittily described that I found myself engrossed and frequently wanting to share. Alas, my love decided that he wanted to read the book as well and so would not let me. Mortimer also discusses the philosophy behind his approach – reminding us that these were real people who shared a basic humanity with us and whose actions continue to affect life in modern-day England (this is explained in more detail especially in the legal chapter.) It’s unfair, he says, to call a fourteenth-century housewife dirty because she doesn’t clean with antibacterial wipes – our cleaning methods will probably seem ineffectual in 700 years, too, but that doesn’t mean that either we or the hypothetical housewives don’t care about cleanliness. There’s a lot to enjoy here both for the history buff and the re-enactor, and the annotated end-notes give even more commentary and jumping-off points for those who want to take it further.
An American Plague by Jim Murphy This is, as the subtitle says, the true and terrifying story of the yellow fever epidemic of 1793. Over the course of a few short months, the population of Philadelphia, then the capital of the United States, was laid waste by a disease with no cure. Everyone who could afford to fled the city, leaving masses of sick and poor and only a few officials with no authority to do anything. The book describes the panic, the reactions of authorities, the arguing among doctors as to cause or cure, the heroic efforts of black nurses sent by the Free African Society, and the eventual waning of the disease. The United States government was unable to do anything during this time, as no one dared to enter the city, but the Constitution forbade convening Congress anywhere else. We hear about the lasting changes to emergency systems and the medical disaster that could still happen today: while we now know the cause of yellow fever, there is still no cure. Every chapter begins with a reproduction of a document from the time, so you can read, for example, the letter that mayor wrote to the newspaper, different ideas for cures, and the names and occupations of the dead. The text is lively, and frequent quotes from diaries, letters and newspapers bring us close to this long-ago event. This is an exciting book that would go well with Laurie Halse Anderson’s Fever, 1793.
Palestine by Joe Sacco Journalist Joe Sacco visited Palestine for a couple of months during the first Intifada, the early 1990s, and reported in graphic form. Very graphic. There are the muddy streets and tiny houses of the camps, the torture, even an honor killing. Also, a whole lot of sitting in rooms full of men, drinking tea and talking. The bumpy, less-beautiful than reality pictures are punctuated with wavy wedges of text describing what he’s seeing, gritty days in Palestine alternating with sparkly, modern nights in Jerusalem. This is not book with a coordinated message or a neat ending. It’s reality, as told to the author by people on both sides. While Israel doesn’t come off looking like the noble saviors of democracy in the Middle East the politicians talk about, the Palestinians are equally racist, and fighting for traditions that are bluntly appalling. If you’re looking for a jumping-off point into modern history of the area, this is a good one. Pair it with Rutu Modan’s Exit Wounds for views from both sides of the road blocks.
The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein Journalist Klein gives us a superbly researched history of modern economics that ranks among the most disturbing things I have ever read, on par with the literature I read for the Theology of the Holocaust class I took in college. Once again, reading a book that was dense and important makes for a long review, even leaving out lots of very important bits, so a cookie for anyone who makes it through. 
