Source of book: Borrowed from the library
I have enjoyed reading Sam Kean for years. Here is the list of books I have read and written about over the years:
The Tale of the Dueling Neurosurgeons
There are a couple others of his that I haven’t read - I am a bit behind, apparently. Anyway, Dinner With King Tut is his latest.
Kean took on this book because of his frustration with archeology. In his opinion, it should be a thrilling discipline, but all too often becomes just tedium - sifting through sites for shards of pottery. He admits all of this is necessary, but wishes it were more alive.
And he was thrilled to find out that, at the supposed fringes of the discipline, there were people engaging in “experimental archeology” - that is, trying to recreate things from the past, from food to weapons to music to….well, everything.
He makes an excellent point that all too often, archeologists speculate about how things were back in the day, but miss whether such speculative ideas would have been actually practical to do or useful for their purpose.
(Back in the day, Calvin and Hobbes took a potshot at this, with Calvin guessing about the uses of household objects he buried and dug up.)
So, experimental archaeologists do things like make Viking bear, make mummies (of chickens), bake bread, play Aztec ballgames, and much more. This has led to insights as to how the past really was.
For this book, Kean actually experienced all of the things he writes about, sometimes to hilarious results. Particularly his ball-playing participation. And his attempts at performing a trepanation. (Not on a human - or anything alive at the time - don’t worry.)
The book is definitely different than his previous books. In this one, he intersperses substantive information about his topics and his experiences with recreating the past with fictional stories that tell a plausible story of the past as an example.
For me, the stories were okay but not great - a bit like the recreations you get on TV rather than compelling fiction. Kean isn’t a fiction writer, and it shows a bit. They aren’t bad, just a little flat.
Also, they tend to be a bit bloody - lots of people die in various ways. So perhaps be prepared for that.
The book spans the entire globe, and ranges in time from our earliest Homo Sapiens history to about 500 years ago. (Because Aztec ballgames, of course!) In each chapter, Kean introduces the basics of the time and place, then begins with a bit of fiction, discussing elements of each part of the story in light of archeology and the experiments that he participates in.
As the title indicates, food is a particular focus of the book, and Kean tries all kinds of crazy stuff, from ostrich eggs to acorn pancakes to various insects. He’s definitely a good sport, willing to try anything. Some were tasty, others not so much. His particular embarrassment is that, despite trying to follow directions exactly, his acorn flour was dreadful - not at all like the delicious pancakes he ate later. As he notes, he would die pretty quickly if transported back to an earlier time.
Like Kean's other books, don't expect a scientific treatise or detailed treatment of his subjects. The books are for fun, and for a pop-historical and pop-scientific introduction to interesting things. You may very well learn something, of course, but entertainment, not education, is the primary goal of the book. And in that, it succeeds. It is a fun read, with a side dish of learning.
I’m not going to go through the book in any particular detail, but just mention a few lines and facts and ideas that caught my eye. Your mileage may vary on what appeals to you.
First up is part of Kean’s defense of experimental archaeology.
However laudable our brains, we Homo sapiens are builders and makers deep down. To truly grasp something, you have to use your hands.
Kean returns to this idea throughout the book. Here is an example.
Sadly, [Lyn] Waldey’s experiments never made it into the scientific literature. When she submitted a paper about the discovery of the world’s oldest bed, the editors loved all the traditional archaeology - the digging-through-dirt stuff. But they refused to include her experiments on the re-created bedding or the ash ring, even as informal observations. This sort of snobbery would have offended the likes of Charles Darwin, who ran many such casual experiments in his backyard, experiments that often sparked future research.
I have to mention a few things about the ancient Egypt chapter, of course. It is reasonably well known that the Egyptians had no idea what the brain did, so they removed it and usually threw it away. In this case, Kean mentions the guys that embalmed a body donated to science, trying to mimic the Egyptians as closely as possible. They got the brain out by pulverizing it with a rod, adding water, and draining it out. “Like a milkshake” they said.
Also fun is that they, in the service of authenticity, used real natron - natural deposits of salts - in the preservation.
Fully committed to authenticity, Brier dug the natron himself in Egypt, and recalls that sneaking hundreds of pounds of unidentified white power through customs at JFK Airport was one of the more ticklish aspects of the project.
Brier also quipped about the mummy, which is still well preserved at room temperature, “He’s dead and well.”
Another of the more hilarious experiments involves Kean trying to open a coconut using a traditional Polynesian tool. He is supervised by an experienced coconut cracker, who at one point prevents him from a rookie mistake.
If you don’t know what you’re doing, you can disembowel yourself.
One chapter is on China in the 1200s, which is an era I wasn’t that familiar with. Key to the story is that China had a booming trade with the Middle East, long before Europe even became aware of China’s vast civilization. (About 40 percent of all humans at the time lived in China.)
We tend to think of all the “modern” inventions that were actually created in China, but China itself gained many of the foundational ideas in math, science, chemistry, and medicine from the Islamic countries.
China had a fairly large population of Islamic traders and other residents, which led to ethnic and religious unrest at recurring intervals.
In this chapter, Kean discusses trebuchets, and his experience in firing one. Yep, these were used in China as well as Europe, and they were introduced to the Chinese by Muslim traders - Chinese writings of the time refer to them as “Muslim trebuchets.”
And where did Kean go to fire these crazy devices? Utah, of course. (I’m not entirely surprised that Logan, Utah, is the place to go for working trebuchets. It seems to fit.)
Anyway, there is a description of the crew that matches my experience of Utah.
He’s joined by his trebuchet-firing crew - young dudes in dirty jeans with chew-can rings worn into the back pocket; most study history or classics at Utah State.
So, true story: my wife and I go to the Utah Shakespeare Festival most years, and a few years ago, we were enjoying cocktails on the patio of the classy bar in Cedar City one evening. (We try to subvert Mormon Country when we can…)
These young dudes, very white and hayseed and Utah-as-heck, had apparently been tying one on at the more redneck bar, and were clearly smashed. One guy was worse, though, and he spent a few minutes retching into a bush as his buddies tried to get him home.
A few minutes later, one of the buddies comes to our bar (where apparently they started their night), and said, “Can we look around? Brayden can’t find his dip.”
The funny thing is, before that, my wife leaned over and said, “I bet one of them is named Brayden…”
So yeah, reading that description, I knew exactly what he was talking about.
Also in this chapter is a discussion of “elixirs,” alchemical recipes said to do everything from expanding lifespans to treating illnesses. Some of these had actual scientific merit, but others…didn’t. And many were dangerous.
Sinologists have estimated that at least a half dozen Chinese emperors died on the throne as a result of drinking elixirs. There was a fine line between immortality and death.
In the final chapter, there are some fascinating culinary experiences. The description of blue corn masa is somewhat familiar. I do wonder though, about his claim that you can’t really get true nixtamalized corn products here in the US. (He is from the east coast, and his mention of Whole Foods as a potential source that didn’t pan out reveals his lack of connection with genuine Latin American groceries.)
We have a local Vallarta that does its own tortillas - and its own hominy, in various colors - and I am pretty sure those are done the right way. I could be wrong, but they definitely taste like he describes, and they don’t keep well.
His description of eating the various insects is pretty fun. I don’t have a lot of experience, but I have eaten a few over the years. They are mostly fine, as he noted.
And, of course, the Aztec ballgames. I hadn’t read a particularly helpful description of the rules previously. It seems most archeologists are concerned with the courts and balls and equipment, but not actual gameplay.
But Kean found people who still play the game. And he got to embarrass himself on the court a bit.
What struck me particularly is that the Aztec game has a significant trait in common with Quidditch. I have previously complained that the rules for Quidditch were clearly written by someone who didn’t understand games - and I stand by that. (I don’t think I did so on my blog, but I certainly have in person.)
Basically, because the Snitch ends the game, and is worth so much, catching the Snitch is the only thing that matters during most phases of the game. This is mostly because the game won’t end until someone catches the Snitch. This makes all the other parts of gameplay mostly irrelevant.
Now, the parallel facet of the Aztec game is that there is a similar high-value play: you can hip-bump the ball through a vertically oriented basket (or ring) on the side of the court. That will be an instant win.
But, there are some differences. First, it is highly difficult to put the ball through the ring, and so it rarely happens. Second, the game has a limit and can end without a basket. So, the other parts of gameplay actually matter - the ring is just a crazy fluke that might happen once in a hundred games. In the game Kean plays in, there are a few close calls, but no ring scores.
Because this chapter is set during the time that the Conquistadors were invading Central America, there is also a discussion of gunpowder. And, for reasons, tests of various recipes for ancient gunpowder that contain everything from vinegar to arsenic. Cliff Rodgers, one of the people running the experiments (including ancient cannons) opines that the recipes may have been matched to the uneven quality of the steel in the guns.
“But I could be wrong,” he admits. “Maybe they just didn’t know what the hell they were doing.”
And maybe that is the theme of the book, deep down. Experimental Archaeology is really all about that question: what works? Is something we see in ancient culture useful, or is it just a guess. Many things, of course, turn out to be purposeful - ash to repel ticks, parrots to find land, flints for knives. But others - the elixirs, certain ingredients in gunpowder, and others - are stabs in the dark, attempts to figure things out, personal preferences, or perhaps just superstition. Experimental Archaeology can be a part of discovering which is which.
As usual Sam Kean was a fun experience, and a good lighter read.
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