Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
"No creature or nation lives life in chronological order," historian Robb (France) observes in this idiosyncratic account of his native Britain. Moving backward and forward in time, often jumping between centuries in a single paragraph, Robb crafts a delightfully digressive work in which, at any moment, the reader might be transported unexpectedly across millennia. (Surveying his storm-damaged garden, Robb notes that "a tall oak born... at the time of the battle of Waterloo had been felled by the wind," and "animals which had crossed from the continent on a swampy land bridge at the end of the last ice age had colonized the garden.") Throughout his whirlwind tour, from the arrival of the first hominins, to the middle ages (when "the Earth was called 'the Mould' "), to the seafaring 17th century, when Charles II printed coins featuring a "trident-brandishing Britannia" to try to inspire confidence in his often defeated navy, Robb delights in strange obscurities and wry absurdities. But a deeper seriousness tinges the proceedings, as Robb contemplates the rise and fall of civilizations and today's approaching "climate chaos." (Every age, he writes, lives under the shadow of its own approaching "Day of Judgment" and among "the memories of someone else's future.") With an entrancing narrative sleight of hand at work on nearly every page, this beguiles. (Jan.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
A discursive and epoch-jumping account of Britain's identity and history. Imagine that a well-read uncle pulls you aside after dinner and says that he has something fascinating to show you in his cluttered office. For hours, he lectures you on old maps, revised history, and personal anecdotes from his travels. This hypothetical uncle could be Robb, the author ofThe Discovery of France, who takes the reader, in his new book, on a haphazard tour through Britain's history, from the earliest proto-villages to the present day. If you are passionate about the lost details of history and the historian's dilemma of capturing the elusive, distorted past, you may find Robb's enthusiasm and nitty-gritty perspective infectious. In preparing the reader for his creative endeavor, the author writes, "No creature or nation lives in chronological order, and so there would be room for the surprising contractions, dilations and reversals of time." The project's conception, in its refusal of standard storytelling or historical chronicling, has merit. But some readers will likely find the contracting and dilating approach--interrupted by descriptions of landscapes and explanations of boundaries--to be wearisome. The author shares personal memories that include a nightmare his mother once had, a childhood neighbor's view, an old book in red leather being passed down by a line of ancient aunts, his father leaving a note for an assistant, his school being older than Eton, and finding an issue ofNational Geographic in his uncle's garden shed that reported the discovery of Pluto. The overflow of personal detail--and jokes that often don't hit--overshadows the narrative thread. A tedious tale that oscillates between reminiscences and historical facts. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
