SIGN IN to access Harper’s Magazine
Need to create a login? Want to change your email address or password? Forgot your password?
1. Sign in to Customer Care using your account number or postal address.
2. Select Email/Password Information.
3. Enter your new information and click on Save My Changes.
Subscribers can find additional help here. Not a subscriber? Subscribe today!
“The westerly excrescence of the continent of Asia, which we call Europe, came to dominate the world during the course of the second millennium AD.” This sentence begins a book to be published next week, Europe Between the Oceans (Yale), by Barry Cunliffe. I suggest that all but the most ardent button-pusher should be seduced by a book that begins this way.
“The westerly excrescence of the continent of Asia” is a phrase that feels like bathhouse leer: loaded with intimation, but withholding information. What, exactly, is the author hiding under his “excrescence”? Climbing, rung by rung, the word’s definitional ladder, leads not to denomination, but only to greater perplexity. My OED tells me that an “excrescence” is both “1. something that grows out, a natural growth or appendage;” and “2. an abnormal, morbid, or disfiguring outgrowth.”
As we overtake the comma, we reach “which we call Europe”—and arrive at our excrescence. Cunningly, Cunliffe has tagged Europe thus: both normal and not so. In the space of not-quite a sentence, and with special thanks to a well-chosen word, we readers understand that a revisionist history is in our hands, one that does not begin, sleepily, “This is a revisionist history of Europe.” Rather it begins, alertly, as such a history.
I’m only in the first half of the oversized, 500-page Europe Between the Oceans. So far, it tells the story of Europe’s rise as a matter more of matter than of art: how land and water tell, if not the whole story of civilization, somewhere between much and most. Smartly and beautifully, Cunliffe has jammed his story with pictures, maps, drawings, and every kind of rarity. Rarest of all, though, seems to be its author’s equal command of landmasses and language.
More from Wyatt Mason:
Conversation — October 2, 2015, 8:26 am
“By committing to the great emotional extremes demanded by Greek tragedy,” says Bryan Doerries, author of The Theater of War, “the actors are in effect saying to the audience: ‘If you want to match our emotional intensity, that would be fine.’”
Number of tombstones in Tombstone, Arizona:
Electrofishing on the Irrawaddy River deters dolphins from their habit of assisting fishermen.
Trump tweeted that “millions of people” had illegally cast ballots in last month’s presidential election, and the Washington Post identified four cases of voter fraud across the country.
Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!
"It is an interesting and somewhat macabre parlor game to play at a large gathering of one’s acquaintances: to speculate who in a showdown would go Nazi. By now, I think I know. I have gone through the experience many times—in Germany, in Austria, and in France. I have come to know the types: the born Nazis, the Nazis whom democracy itself has created, the certain-to-be fellow-travelers. And I also know those who never, under any conceivable circumstances, would become Nazis."