War without the Shooting – Sport and Strife in Ancient Athletic Competition
Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence: in other words it is war minus the shooting.
(George Orwell, “The Sporting Spirit”, Tribune, 14 December 1945)
I was reminded of the above Orwell quote in a book I’ve been reading lately, entitled The Ancient Olympics, by Nigel Spivey. No, we are not going to be talking about modern warfare or guns, those are not my thing. However, Spivey’s use of the quote is apt for his book, and for the purposes of our short discussion here.
What was the purpose of athletic competition in the ancient world, and what is the purpose of it today? How has it evolved, or has it?
I’m just finishing up the research phase for my novel set during the ancient Olympics. I can’t wait to start typing away at it, but there are a few things I need to decide on, one of them being how I will portray the ancient games.
I’m a romantic, and an idealist, and at first my inclination is to portray the ancient Olympics in an idealized and romantic light. It would make for a great story, but would that be accurate?
Today, when we think of the Olympic Games, we think of amateur sport, sportsmanship and fair play. We believe that just to be able to compete in the Olympics is an honour, a victory already achieved. In some ways, that’s true. The athletes who go to the Olympics today have trained and competed for years. They’ve racked up a list of hard-won victories in their part of the world in order to make it to the Olympiad.
I love the Olympics. In fact, it’s the only time that I really watch sports on TV. I love the Olympic ideals we hold so dear.
But are those the same ideals that were held dear in the ancient world? Perhaps some. But not all. Are the Olympics today the same games that they were in the ancient world? No. Not really.
So, in writing my story set during the ancient Olympics, I’ve got to achieve a major shift in mindset and go somewhere my modern sensibilities will not necessarily enjoy.
In the ancient world, men (yes, only men) went to the Olympics to win (women were only permitted to compete insofar as owning the horses in the equestrian events). It was not honourable to just participate. Oftentimes, losers would have to return to their polis by back streets, humiliated that they did not wear the olive crown of victory. Only the winners were hailed as demi-gods. The losers, though participants in the great games, were nothing.
It’s pretty harsh, but that was the nature of the Olympics and other games (including the Isthmian, Pythian, and Nemean games). They were violently competitive, brutal in nature, and though the Olympics were a time of official peace (the ‘Sacred Truce’), they were anything but peaceful.
When I think of the ancient Olympics, I don’t think about gymnastics or synchronized swimming, kayaks, or graceful dives from on high. I think of boxing and the discus, hoplite warrior sprints and the roar of a crowd at the marquee chariot races. When I think of the ancient Olympics, I think of the pankration, that most brutal of events where bones were broken, and faces were smashed with fists covered in lead or leather.
So, were ancient sports just about a sadistic pleasure in violence, about merely bettering your competitors, about hatred being given a release? Was sport really war on a small scale?
There isn’t really a straight and easy answer to the question, I’m afraid. I suppose the answer is yes, and no. Certainly, when you look at the array of events, the games were in one form, a training ground for war, “war without the shooting”.
As today, there were probably ‘good’ and ‘bad’ men who competed. There were those whose sole purpose was to utterly humiliate and destroy their opponents, to inflict pain and suffering, but there were also men who, in competing in the sacred Olympiad, sought to honour not only their polis and their family, but also to honour the gods themselves.
That said, they all wanted to win. I suspect that athletes today, no matter how much the media proclaims their virtue for simply being there, today’s athletes, once there, can see that victory within their grasp, and so, crave it more than we realize.
There is a duality here that leads us to the nature of Strife in the ancient world, which Spivey touches on in his book.
The ancient poet Hesiod (circa 700 B.C.) spoke of Strife in his Work and Days.
So, after all, there was not one kind of Strife alone, but all over the earth there are two. As for the one, a man would praise her when he came to understand her; but the other is blameworthy: and they are wholly different in nature. For one fosters evil war and battle, being cruel: her no man loves; but perforce, through the will of the deathless gods, men pay harsh Strife her honour due. But the other is the elder daughter of dark Night, and the son of Cronos who sits above and dwells in the aether, set her in the roots of the earth: and she is far kinder to men. She stirs up even the shiftless to toil; for a man grows eager to work when he considers his neighbour, a rich man who hastens to plough and plant and put his house in good order; and neighbour vies with is neighbour as he hurries after wealth. This Strife is wholesome for men. And potter is angry with potter, and craftsman with craftsman, and beggar is jealous of beggar, and minstrel of minstrel. (Hesiod, Works and Days)
Here we see that ‘Strife’, who is named Eris, actually has two faces, or natures.
There is Strife as Eris agathos, the useful, productive aspect of Strife, that which lends itself to creative industry in all things, in people of all stations and trades.
Then there is the Strife known as kakochartos, or ‘exalting in bad things’. This aspect of Strife thrives on war and dissent, a lust for bloodshed and battle.
Both aspects of Strife were present in the ancient Olympics and other competitions, both were present in war.
In his Theogeny, Hesiod names three offspring of Strife. They are: Death, Destruction, and Toil (Ponos).
It is ‘Toil’ that the ancients ascribed goodness to, for in working to the extremes of ones capabilities, and beyond, one became stronger, and so achieved greatness. This sort of Strife, Eris agathos, was pleasing to the gods, it was something to aspire to.
But the two aspects of Strife are not, in my opinion, mutually exclusive.
Spivey mentions the Iliad, and the part of that wondrous foundational text of western literature where Achilles embodies both aspects of Strife. Homer does not differentiate.
Therefore, perish strife both from among gods and men, and anger, wherein even a righteous man will harden his heart- which rises up in the soul of a man like smoke, and the taste thereof is sweeter than drops of honey. Even so has Agamemnon angered me. And yet- so be it, for it is over; I will force my soul into subjection as I needs must; I will go; I will pursue Hector who has slain him whom I loved so dearly, and will then abide my doom when it may please Jove and the other gods to send it. (Home, Iliad 18)
Achilles is by far the greatest hero of the Trojan War, the most skilled. He is godlike. He is what all men aspired to be. He is skilled at war, but can be unbelievably violent in the extreme, such as when he drags Hector’s body behind his chariot. He can, however, be moved to goodness such as when he sets aside his vendetta with Agamemnon to help his brothers again, and when he grants King Priam the return of his son’s body for the rites.
Greatness is not an easy thing to carry upon one’s shoulders, and we see in ancient literature that the heroes who achieve greatness also have a greater measure of grief. Herakles, Jason, Achilles and so many others all have tragedy in their lives, but Eris agathos was with them too, and this set them apart from the base war-mongers of the age, those who throve on kakochartos.
Olympians would have been weaned on tales of these heroes, and many would have aimed for such heights. One of the most famous of Olympians was Milo of Croton who won numerous wrestling victories at all of the Pan-Hellenic competitions for many years.
This same Olympic hero was also a great warrior who led troops of his native Croton in battle against their enemies of Sybaris.
One hundred thousand men of Croton were stationed with three hundred thousand Sybarite troops ranged against them. Milo the athlete led them and through his tremendous physical strength first turned the troops lined up against him. (Diodorus Siculus XII, 9)
It is said that Milo led the charge against the Sybarites wearing his Olympic crowns, a lion skin, and wielding a club similar to the hero Herakles. It seems that war and athletics were both at their finest in Milo, and I suspect that it was so in many an ancient Olympic champion.
Sport seemed to change with the Romans. The ancient Olympics survived until they were shut down by Emperor Theodosius in A.D. 394 when he banned all pagan festivals.
The Romans, however, were no strangers to blood-sports.
If deliberate killing was frowned upon at the ancient Olympics, it was accepted, and even encouraged, in the amphitheatres and hippodromes of the Roman world.
Chariot races were the main event in such places as the Circus Maximus and, just as at Olympia, both man and beast could suffer terrible fates on the sands.
Similarly, on the amphitheatre floors, gladiators often fought to the death. Whereas in ancient Greek competitions, the participants were hailed as heroes, their bodies trained and taken care of, gladiators in the Roman world were slaves who were bred to deal death and die. The rites that had once been a fight to the death at funeral games to honour the fallen had turned to entertainment.
Audiences had always relished the spilling of blood in competition, but during the Roman age the thirst for blood in sports seemed to have reached new heights. In A.D. 80, at the inaugural games of the Flavian Amphitheatre (The Colosseum), Emperor Titus put on one hundred days of games which included criminal executions, re-enactments of historic battles, and of course gladiatorial combat. This was slaughter on a massive scale and the crowds loved it. It is said that over 4000 animals were killed in a single day during those inaugural games!
Were the gods pleased with that? Are we so different today? I like to thinks so, but…
At a hockey game today, when two players start pommeling each other, most of the crowd jumps to its feet to watch. They cheer and jeer the two pugilists. What about UFC and the resurrection of a form of the pankration, a sport that was eventually banned from athletic competition in the 4th century A.D?
Have we made progress, or are we the same as our ancient counterparts? Are we simply denying our inherent thirst for blood? From what we see in the media, I don’t think that’s necessarily true. Again, no easy answers.
I like to think we’ve made progress, in some ways, but I do wonder sometimes if the world had turned more to kakochartos, rather than Eris agathos.
Then again, perhaps in youth today can be found the answer, some hope?
I was at a track and field meet a couple weeks ago, and it was a joy to watch the young school-age boys and girls compete without prejudice or put-downs. Those kids who were on the track did not try to psyche their competitors out. They were focussed only on their lanes, their task, their race. Some sped toward the finish line like cheetahs chasing down deer, others were far behind the rest and still crossed that finish line.
Eris agathos, it seems like a song now to me, a song of beautiful strife.
I think the young are more pure, and that it is in them that the seeds of Eris agathos are sown. It is nurtured in few.
It’s no wonder that the modern call for the Olympic Games calls on “the youth of the world”.
So, tell me what you think?
Is modern sport so very different from sport in the ancient world?
Is sport and athletic competition today simply war without the shooting? Or is it something more than that?
Share your thoughts with us in the comments below.
For myself, I have yet to decide what direction to go in this next novel. Will the competition on the palaestra and in the stadium be fierce and fill a simple need for violence, or will it transcend that and please the gods?
I suppose I’ll see when I get there.
Thank you for reading!
The World of Children of Apollo – Part VI – Cumae and the Sibyl
…from her shrine the Sibyl of Cumae sang her fearful riddling prophecies, her voice booming in the cave as she wrapped the truth in darkness, while Apollo shook the reins upon her in her frenzy and dug the spurs into her flanks. The madness passed. The wild words died upon her lips… (Aenied, Book VI)
In this series of posts on The World of Children of Apollo, we have been through the sands and cities of Roman North Africa, trod the marble-clad streets of Imperial Rome, and wandered the lush, ancient land of Etruria. We have met the imperial family and had a hint of the dangers that can come of an association with them.
In this post, we set off on a slightly different path into the realm of mystery and legend, and visit the cave of the Cumaean Sibyl, Apollo’s ancient oracle on the Italian peninsula. It is in the cave of the Sibyl that Lucius Metellus Anguis learns of a cryptic prophecy concerning his future.
Legend has it that Cumae was founded by ancient Greeks as early as 1050 B.C. and was, according to Strabo, the oldest of the Greek colonies on mainland Italy or Sicily. Cumae survived many years of war and attack until, under the Empire, it was seen as a quiet, country town in contrast to the very fashionable settlement of Baiae nearby. The acropolis of Cumae is a mass of rock rising two-hundred and sixty-nine feet above the seashore which lies one hundred yards away. The acropolis contains three levels of caves with many branches, and it is within these caves that the Cumaean Sibyl had her seat.
One can approach the rock from the south-east. It is steep on all sides with remnants of the original Greek fortifications. The acropolis is an ancient place, a place where myth and legend can, if you manage to block out modernity, come alive. Within the acropolis stood the Temple of Apollo, God of Prophecy. Tradition has it that Daedalus himself built the temple. This was restored by the Romans who had great reverence for Apollo and the Sibyl who had prophesied the future of Rome to the last king, Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, in the Sibylline Books.
As the story goes, Tarquinius would not pay the Sibyl her extortionate price for all nine books. The Sibyl burned three and yet he refused to pay. She burned another three and the king relented, paying the original price for the remaining three books. A lesson there, to be sure! The Sibylline Books were kept in the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill until c. 80 B.C. when it burned down. The books were so valuable, having been referred to in times of great crisis for Rome, that a re-collection of Sibylline prophecies was undertaken in all corners of the Empire. Augustus finally had the prophecies moved to the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine Hill, where our main character, Lucius Metellus Anguis spends much time in Children of Apollo.
But who was the Sibyl? Her person is surrounded by the haze of legend. She was mortal, but she lived for a thousand years. In the Aeneid, it was the Sibyl who guided Aeneas to the underworld so that he could visit his dead father, Anchises, in Hades. Her story is a sad one too. When Apollo met her, the god offered her a wish in exchange for her virginity. The Sibyl then picked up a handful of sand and asked that she live as many years as the number of grains of sand she held in her palm. The old adage, ‘Careful what you wish for,’ certainly rings true in the Sibyl’s case. Tragically, she did not wish for eternal youth as well, and as a result, over the centuries, her young, once-beautiful body withered until all that remained was her prophetic voice. In Children of Apollo, this is a voice that Lucius Metellus Anguis will not soon forget.
The traditions of ancient Greece and Rome are of full of tales of tragedy, choices wrongly-made, beauty, love, hate and deception. The tales are heroic and terrifying, inspiring and thought-provoking. And oftentimes, there is a physical place associated with a particular tale, a place you can visit and hear the voices of the past. You can stand in a spot where once a Trojan hero may have stood, as well as emperors and Caesars, or common soldiers. It may be a place or tale that shook the foundations of the world, of a people, or of a solitary individual trying to find his way.
For Lucius Metellus Anguis, the Sibyl’s cave is a place that will haunt him for a long time to come.
This is the final post in this series, The World of Children of Apollo.
I hope you enjoyed them, and if your curiosity is piqued, be sure to pick up a copy at the Books tab by clicking HERE.
If you have already read Children of Apollo (and reviews are very welcome!) you can continue the adventure with Lucius Metellus Anguis in Killing the Hydra which is also available.
See you again soon, and thanks for reading!
Hero of Rome: An Interview with Author Douglas Jackson
It’s always a thrill to stumble upon a new work of historical fiction that really meets your needs and expectations as a reader.
I’ve been working on my own books so much lately that I haven’t been taking the time I should to read in my chosen genre. Time is precious, of course, but as writers we need to remember to keep reading.
So, I went in search of a new series and found Douglas Jackson’s Gaius Valerius Verrens series.
I’ve just finished the first book, Hero of Rome, and what an adventure! I couldn’t put this book down.
The reader, writer, and historian in me was greatly impressed at how Douglas Jackson melded all the elements for a great read together. I decided right away that I wanted to interview the man behind the story.
Fortunately for us, he said yes!
So, sit back and enjoy hearing from Mr. Jackson about historical fiction and writing, inspiration, Roman Britain, and much more…
What got you interested in historical fiction in the first place? Was it a particular book?
History has always fascinated me, I’m a voracious reader and I always wanted to be a writer, so I suppose it was inevitable I’d end up either reading or writing historical fiction. My first HF love was Robert Louis Stevenson’s ‘Kidnapped’, which is a fantastic boy’s own adventure with sweeping landscapes and fascinating characters set on my own turf in Scotland. Looking back, the greatest influence would be George MacDonald Fraser’s ‘Flashman’ novels, which not only entertain brilliantly, but taught me more history than any of my teachers ever did.
Have you travelled to all the places you have written about? How important do you think travelling is for writing historical fiction?
I’d love to have travelled to the exotic places I’ve written about, but the twin constraints of time and money mean that I’ve had to use my imagination and Google Earth to create many of them. That said, I’ve been to Rome several times, Pompeii, Herculaneum and the Villa Oplontis, and it added hugely to my understanding of time and place. Likewise, a research trip to Colchester a few years ago gave me a feel for the landscape that enormously enhanced ‘Claudius” and ‘Hero of Rome’. I’ve just finished ‘Scourge of Rome’ which is set in Judaea, with the climax in Jerusalem, and it would have helped greatly if I’d been able to travel there and been able to appreciate the scale of the city, as it is I depended upon the above said Google and ancient maps and paintings I found on the internet. One place I’d really have liked to visit is the Cepha Gap, in a rather dangerous area of eastern Turkey, where I sited the entirely fictional battle that ends ‘Avenger of Rome’. It’s close to the fascinating city of Hasankeyf, home to archaeological treasures thousands of years old. The entire place is going to be drowned beneath an enormous dam that the Turkish government seems to be using to keep the local Kurds in their place.
When it comes to Roman Britain, which sites had the most influence on you, and why?
Over the years I’ve been to hundreds of Roman sites across the UK. Sometimes I can look at a town or a set of fields and tell by experience just about exactly where a Roman fort is sited because of the topography. Hadrian’s Wall, which is just down the road from the town where I grew up, is an obvious one. It has given me endless fascination, especially the discovery of the Vindolanda tablets, the slivers of wood shavings that have given us a unique insight into the way Roman auxiliaries on the frontier worked and lived, even played. But my greatest influence lies beneath a field just outside Melrose, in the Borders, where I lived for a few years. It’s a Roman fort called Trimontium and was, in turn, an outpost of the Wall, a staging post between the Hadrianic and Antonine Walls, and a legionary camping ground for at least two invasions of Scotland. The fort was excavated in 1911 by a local historian called James Curle. He was an amateur, but his excavations are regarded as a masterpiece of their time. He wrote a book called ‘A Roman Frontier Fort and Its People’, an astonishing record of his dig that is as intriguing as any novel. His finds were astonishing, including three cavalry parade masks (one of them iron, which is unique) and thousands of other Roman artefacts. I was fortunate enough to interview Curle’s niece and she had a host of fascinating stories about her uncle.
Your bio says you grew up in the Borders. How would you say the Borders differ from other areas in Britain? What sets them apart?
What makes the Borders different is its people. They’re a hardy breed, because history has made them that way: you have to be hardy to survive in country that was fought over by two nations for five hundred years like two dogs fighting over a bone. They also have a dry sense of humour that makes outsiders look at them strangely, but is hilarious if you take it the right way. What sets the area apart is that there’s no central focus. It’s made up of small towns set far enough apart to be completely different, but close enough to have a common purpose. They’re bitter rivals on the rugby pitch, but ask them who they are and they’ll tell you they’re proud to be a Borderer.
Boudicca is a larger-than-life character of history that many people have written about. What do you believe is the appeal of the queen of the Iceni to writers and readers alike?
Manda Scott, who wrote the Dreaming series, would be better placed to answer this one. I deliberately made Boudicca a peripheral character in ‘Hero of Rome’ because her story has been told so often and so well (see Ms Scott, above). Her obvious appeal is in the heroic myth that’s grown up around her as a great warrior queen who led men into battle and came close to pushing the Romans out of Britain. We’ll never know how much of it is truth. She probably owes her existence to a report sent to Rome by Suetonius Paulinus in the aftermath of the rebellion, which was later enhanced and embellished by a series of historians, including Cassius Dio, who’s not the most dependable record keeper. Paulinus, and the procurator Catus Decianus, brought the rebellion on themselves, and Paulinus may have painted a larger than life picture of his enemy in order to further his own reputation. The words that are supposed to have emerged from her mouth were written by Romans and I wish historians would remember that.
Where do you stand on the notion that a place has memory? Are there any experiences you would like to share about when a place really ‘spoke’ to you?
I think every place with a history has a memory if you’re patient enough to tune in to it. The first place I can remember ‘talking’ to me is Jedburgh Abbey in the town where I was born. The abbey was burned down five times by English raiding parties. It’s a magnificent 12th century building that soars above the town and I passed it on the way to school every day. You have to pay to get in now, but when I was a boy you were able to roam at will among the ruins. I can remember sitting there for hours just steeping myself in the mystique of the place and imagining what happened there. Folk must have thought I was mad.
What is your favourite historical fiction novel, and why?
‘Flashman and the Great Game’ by the above George Macdonald Fraser. Flashman is the adult version of the character in Tom Brown’s Schooldays, and he’s added coward, rogue, seducer and scoundrel to his original bullying repertoire. Yet Macdonald Fraser manages to make him curiously likeable as he relates tales of cutting and running his way to fame, glory and fortune with a sardonic wit. This is the story of Flashman ‘s incredible adventures during the Indian Mutiny as he blunders from heroic defence to massacre and mayhem and the final incredible climax which is as tense an ending as I’ve ever read in a book. Great stuff.
How has your experience as a reporter helped your novel writing? Has it ever hindered you in some way?
My 36 years as a reporter, sub-editor and editor have been an enormous help in my writing. I discovered I could write succinctly enough that I didn’t need a great deal of editing, that I could hold a 100,000 word story in my head as easily as I could a double page feature and that I could write fast and accurately. I’ve never missed a deadline. There’s no down side.
Most of your novels are set in the Roman Empire, but you have written some thrillers under the name of James Douglas. What made you want to change tack and write modern thrillers?
The need to make a living. I got into thrillers by mistake, but it’s refreshing to be able to kill someone with a gun for a change rather than a sword, and to live in a world where you don’t have to research every little detail as you walk down a street. I knew I had to write two books a year to make ends meet, so I pitched a second historical series to my editor. He liked it, but someone else had just sold Transworld a series set in the same period. Instead, he asked if I fancied trying a Dan Brown-type thriller. I said no, but he said ‘think about it’ and over the weekend I came up with three great ideas that I managed to turn into the first three Jamie Saintclair novels
You’ve also self-published a novel called War Games, which is the first Glen Savage Mystery. The publishing landscape has changed drastically in the last few years, and some would say there is no better time to be a writer. Tell us about the Glen Savage Mystery series and your indie-publishing experience thus far.
When I’d finished writing The Emperor’s Elephant, which became Caligula, Claudius, and through a curious metamorphosis, Hero of Rome, I knew it wasn’t good enough, but I didn’t know how to improve it. What to do? The answer was write another book. I had no idea whether I could make a success of historical fiction, so I thought I’d give a crime novel a try. Glen Savage appeared in my head one night and began speaking to me, to the extent that I got up and wrote down what he’d said. By mid-morning I had the novel mapped out and I knew it would be in the first person, with a sort of Sam Spade voiceover and the Borders countryside would be as much a character as Savage himself, in the same way James Lee Burke uses the Bayoux. War Games was actually the second Glen Savage book I wrote, the first, Brothers in Arms, focuses on his Falklands War experiences, but I haven’t had time to upload it yet. My self-publishing experience has been interesting, but ultimately disappointing. War Games got off to a reasonable start and had some great reviews, but it dropped into a black hole both in the UK and America. I always laugh when I see US writers on Twitter boasting about their hundreds of thousands of sales when they’re sitting at around the same Amazon rank I am and I know War Games is selling about four books a month. That said, excellent historical fiction writers like my pals Simon Turney and Gordon Doherty sell well enough to make a living from it, and I’d urge you to give them a try. I think the key is to have a series and build a following.
Many authors struggle for years to break out or get noticed. In hindsight, is there anything you would do differently? Do you have any advice for new historical fiction authors?
I was very fortunate, because I was picked up after just one rejection letter, so no, I wouldn’t do anything differently. One great help to me was the peer review website Youwriteon.com. You upload the first 10,000 words of your book and other writers critique it. It can be a pretty savage environment, but it teaches you to roll with the punches, which is vital further on down the line. I won a professional critique, the editor wanted to see the rest of the book, and the rest is history. My advice to any writer is to be prepared to promote yourself, because unless you’re already a name you’ll get very little help from your publisher. If you need a role model, look no further than Ben Kane of Spartacus, Hannibal and The Forgotten Legion fame. Ben works tirelessly to promote his books and those of other Roman HF writers. He’s also a great guy and deserves all the success he’s achieved.
Do you ever see your work being made into a movie? Who would play Gaius Valerius Verrens?
I think ‘Hero of Rome’ would make a great movie. It has everything. A likeable main character, an explosive start and a beautiful love story, all set around the background of the birth of Roman Britain, and of course an epic, bloody climax that makes the Alamo look like a Tupperware party. That bloke Ross, from Poldark, (UK TV star alert) who makes the ladies swoon would make a brilliant Valerius. Oddly enough I had word recently from a Hollywood film producer who’s talking to an international superstar next week about one of my Jamie Saintclair novels. It’ll make a great story when I can talk about it, and fingers crossed, but it’s like having a ticket in the lottery: just because you’ve got one doesn’t mean you’ll hit the jackpot.
Do you have any writing rituals that you would like to share? What is a typical ‘writing day’ like for you?
I get up in the morning, breakfast, sit in front of my computer and try to write 1000-1500 words in the morning, lunch, go for a walk, then the same in the afternoon. If I don’t hit my target I’ll write in the evening. I’m not much of a TV watcher and if I wasn’t writing I’d be reading anyway.
Is there a current writer whose work you are really enjoying at the moment?
I love John Le Carre’s work, because he makes it all appear so effortless. He’s managed to survive the end of the Cold War and make a new career for himself by the sheer power of his writing. I also thought CJ Sansom’s Lamentation was a brilliant return to form.
Is there a historic person in particular whose story you would like to tell in the future?
That’s actually a very difficult question. There are many stories it would be great to tell, but finding an era that no-one is writing about is almost impossible in such a crowded market. You have to find a combination of a great character and commercial appeal. I’m working on it!
What is your next project?
Jamie Saintclair is taking a rest, so I’m about 80,000 words into a Second World War crime novel called ‘Blood Roses’. It’s chock full of suspense, tension and moral dilemmas, and the hero faces a life or death decision on just about every page. It’s the first book I’ve written ‘on spec’ since The Emperor’s Elephant, which is both exciting and daunting, so if anyone in publishing thinks it sounds interesting, give me a shout. After that it’s back to Roman times. Valerius and Serpentius meet up in the dangerous gold fields of northern Spain, where Valerius is working for Pliny the Elder
I’d like to thank Douglas Jackson for taking the time to answer all of my questions.
If you have any questions or comments, be sure to leave them below.
It’s always fascinating to me to read about what inspires other authors, and hear about the places they’ve been. I’ve spent some time in the Scottish Borders myself, particularly at Trimontium, and I can tell you that it’s a wonderful site set in a beautiful landscape. If you ever get the chance to go, take it. You won’t regret it.
Luckily for those of us who love Roman historical fiction, there are many more books in the Gaius Valerius Verrens series, with more on the way.
Definitely check them out!
If you want to read about Mr. Jackson’s work, be sure to check out his website by clicking HERE or visiting Amazon. You can also connect with him on Facebook and Twitter.
As ever, thank you for reading…
Ancient Everyday – Mirror Mirror
I thought I would try a new series of blog posts looking briefly at everyday items in the ancient world.
Historical fiction is often about great battles, political events, and large-than-life characters.
However, one of the things that anchors these stories more firmly in the past are the everyday items that decorate the homes of the characters around whom the stories revolve, or the tools they use without a passing thought.
We might not notice these items ourselves, as readers, but trust me, if they were missing you would get the impression that the story was not quite authentic, or that it was lacking something you couldn’t put your finger on.
I was going through some photos I had taken the other day and saw this one of some Etruscan mirrors in the display cabinet at the Royal Ontario Museum.
Today, mirrors are things that we definitely take for granted, though I bet we all glance in them a few times a day.
The first mirrors were probably calm pools of water into which people could gaze at their reflections, or crude vessels filled with water. These are primitive, but they are still mirrors.
The earliest man-made mirrors appear to have been made of volcanic glass, or obsidian, and examples of these have been found in Anatolia which date to about 6000 B.C.
Polished copper mirrors have been found in Mesopotamia which date to about 4000 B.C., and some in Egypt which date to roughly 3000 B.C.
Dating to around 2000 B.C. there are examples of polished stone mirrors from Central and South America, and bronze mirrors from China dating to the same period.
During the ancient Greek and Roman period, polished bronze mirrors such as those pictured above seem to have been the norm, though these were not something that would have been possessed by the lower classes. Mirrors were probably more of a luxury item, especially the ornate ones. There is also mention of metal-coated mirrors, or glass mirrors backed with gold during the Roman period.
Mirrors such as these have been found among grave goods, indicating that they were, in some cases, prized possessions of the deceased.
When I see these more or less unassuming artifacts, it always makes me wonder who held this mirror, and what did they see, or think, or feel when they saw their own image staring back at them.
This is one of the things I love about archaeology and storytelling.
Every artifact has a human story behind it.
The King is Dead – The Passing of an Arthur
It’s always a sad thing to hear of the passing of an artist whose work has made a lasting impression.
It seems that every year more and more names shuffle off this mortal coil, leaving us with our own perceptions of their public face, but more so the faces of the roles they played.
This morning I found out that British actor Nigel Terry passed away at the age of 69.
Many people might not know Nigel Terry at first mention. He was not necessarily a Titan of the big screen. However, he did appear in a few historical/fantasy dramas, most notably John Boorman’s 1981 film Excalibur.
I used to devour all things Arthurian, and it still is my favourite realm to visit, whether of history, literature, or archaeology.
Excalibur, based on Sir Thomas Malory’s Morte D’Arthur, will always be one of those movies that made a lasting impression upon me. The film brought to life the magic and mystery of the Arthurian legend like nothing else. It explored the nature of the king’s relationship to the land he is bound to protect, and took you on the quest with the Knights of the Round Table, from their courageous departure to find the Holy Grail, to depths of madness, despair, and pain, to the glorious attainment of the Grail, and the final confrontation at the Battle of Camlann.
Nigel Terry’s Arthur was of a different sort – naïve, daring, stern, trusting, brave, flawed, honourable. Whenever I imagine an historical Arthur in my head, it is often Nigel Terry’s face that appears.
If you have never seen the movie Excalibur, and you like Arthuriana, then you should definitely watch this movie. While you’re at it, see how many famous actors’ young faces you can spot in the cast about Nigel Terry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3cXcS49D64