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英国原版的

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by Ian Crofton

Conventional chronologies of world history concentrate on the reigns of Kings and Queens, the deaths of iconic figures and the years of major discoveries. But there are other more interesting stories to tell, stories that don’t usually get into the history books but which can nevertheless bring the past vividly and excitingly to life. By turns bizarre, surprising, trivial and enlightening, History Without the Boring Bits offers rich pickings for the browser, and entertainment and inspiration aplenty.

Published October 2007
224 pages, demi hardcover
216x 135mm
AU$29.95
ISBN 9781847240866

http://www.murdochbooks.com.au/boring.htm
http://www.amazon.co.uk/History- ... ology/dp/1847240860

引用:

History Without The Boring Bits

Review by Jonathan Sale

Published: September 15 2007 00:39 | Last updated: September 15 2007 00:39

History Without The Boring Bits
by Ian Crofton
Quercus £16.99, 224 pages
FT bookshop price: £13.59

As Sam Cooke so wisely put it, “Don’t know much about histor-ee.” If, like me, your school’s eccentric curriculum snatched you away from your history class at the age of 11, you will never have learnt that Attila the Hun died of a nosebleed. And you will probably be ignorant of the fact that in 1021 Hakim the Mad, Caliph of Egypt, banned the making of women’s shoes. It will also have escaped your attention that in 1349 Edward III instituted a ban – sadly rescinded later – on the playing of football. It is left to History Without the Boring Bits to enlighten me now, decades later.

Ian Crofton’s centuries-old snippets include: the Thirty-eight Minute War between Britain and Zanzibar (1896); the legalisation of farting (43AD); and the repeal of a law that had made it compulsory to celebrate in church, every November 5, the foiling of the gunpowder plot (1859).

At its best, this history lite gives to the historically challenged reader a path into history heavy. The serious sequel to the assassination of Franz Ferdinand in 1914 was the first world war; the intriguing sideline is the story that he was a victim of the Curse of the White Deer, having shot an albino stag in defiance of a local legend declaring this to be a bad career move.

Similarly, the 1812 retreat from Moscow was enlivened by the ferryman of whom Napoleon enquired whether he had seen any French deserters. “No,” replied the honest oarsperson, “you’re the first.”

One story concerns a 1940 air raid on the Scapa Flow naval base, resulting not in the heavy British casualties claimed by the Germans, but merely in a direct hit on an unfortunate bunny, whose corpse was dragged on stage by Flanagan and Allen for “Run, Rabbit, Run.”

It is a mallard that lives on musically at All Souls, Oxford, to commemorate the one which flew out of a sewer while the college was being constructed in 1437. Every century the dons sing a birdy song in honour of this mallard imaginaire.

An odd entry. Some are even more sloppily chosen. In 1797 Napoleon appointed a new surgeon-in-chief. In 1787 a beggar rejected a bowl of soup with maggots in it. Boring! And not even history.

NB: I cannot confirm the accuracy of any of the above. After all, I haven’t done any history since I was 11.

Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2007

FT