Sam Kean also loved the idea of archeology, but never the actually practice; all that digging for a couple of pot shards was not his idea of a good time. Then he discovered experimental archeology: people attempting to recreate the foods, clothing, weapons, architecture, and medicine of ancient civilizations. This book is the record of his foray into the field, organized chronologically from 75,000 years ago in Africa with a spear hunter to the 1500s in Mexico with an enemy of the Aztecs assisting the Spanish. Each chapter switches between a fictional account of someone suited to the time period and Kean’s attempts to learn the skills he’s discussing (spoiler: in his expert opinion, he would starve to death within a half an hour of being sent back in time).
I found this book very interesting; I had never heard of the concept of experimental archaeology before. Yes, the book at times could be better edited (his editor seemed to miss that Kean dropped a word here or there; honestly, lately editors seem to be sleeping at their jobs), but it was still an engrossing read. I appreciate he was willing to actually get his hands dirty researching the book, and that he would quite gladly and freely discuss when he would fail spectacularly. The fiction parts of each chapter were an interesting and enjoyable way to tie the narrative of historical fact together. One of the ones I found most interesting was the chapter on China; I never realized how many Muslims were in Ancient China, nor that you would equate the foot-binding of women with the making of eunuchs of men; by the way, discovering that eunuchs frequently kept their “removed parts” (also known as their bao, or “treasure”) pickled and with them at all times so they could be made whole in the afterlife, was not something I honestly ever needed to know.
What I found truly funny is that last year I first read on Pinterest about Janet Martin, the hairdresser that first suggest Roman women’s hairstyles were sewn in place (which tells me a lot about my search algorithms, I suppose). She was the first person in what I’m finding is a growing field: people (mostly women) who are in the jobs (or using the tools) that people did in antiquity, who are having to explain to archeologists “I’m so glad you have a degree in Archeology, but I have degrees in Practical, Common Sense and Actually Doing What You’re Talking About, so maybe listen to me?”. Another example (not in the book, just what I’ve found looking further into it) was all the archeologists saying that obsidian blades were kept in the rafters of kitchens to be blessed by the Sun God(s), until one who was also a mother said, “no, they were shoved into the rafters so the fool children wouldn’t cut their fingers off; do you really think children in the past were any less into grabbing things they shouldn’t?”.
The book sparked a desire in me to actually get going on all the projects I’ve shoved onto the back burner recently; he’s right that we are far too dependent on mass produced items, which in a way has taken away from the communal lifestyle humans used to have. I probably still will never eat either bugs or raw seal blubber, nor make a mummy, stick poke tattoo someone or preform a trepanation, but I might try my hand at sewing a hairstyle into a wig, building a trebuchet, or weaving an acorn basket out of reeds. Tanning a hide with brains, though? Outcome cloudy, ask again later.