June 3, 2025
March 2, 2023

Diary for March 2023: by Peter Frankopan

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Writing a book is like listening to a Wagner opera. It is an epic, dramatic exercise – and it requires stamina. Above all, though, it never ends. When you finish a manuscript and send it off to the publisher, that is not the end of the story. It comes back again and again, with question and query followed by question and query. There are maps to think of, and images. Then there is the copy to put on the flap of the book. Then questions about which photo to use. And then, of course, there is the climax itself: throwing oneself at the mercy of family, friends, reviewers and – in today’s world – Joe (or Jenny) Public. Even before I had finished writing it or allowed anyone to read a single page, one person had decided to give it one star on Goodreads. There’s an operetta there, surely. I don’t know how it is with other people, but for me, writing is a very spiritual experience. There is something wondrous about research, and especially about finding out things that are interesting and (better still) feel important. Next to the joy of discovery is that of creation – the fact that a blinking cursor can turn into something that clarifies, explains and informs about the past, present or future. Most of all, though, is the humility that comes from trying to unravel complex problems. I do not find that easy to do, and find myself popping into our local church more often than normal. I’ll sit in a pew in silence in the middle of the afternoon for a few minutes and come out invigorated and reassured. It’s a bonus if Mass happens to be going on – although the other day, the sermon was about preparing oneself for the Eucharist as one might do when going out for an evening with one’s best friends. I felt embarrassed I’d never thought about it that way; but I’m pleased now that I have. Each book has its own rhythms. When I wrote The Silk Roads, I quite often wrote into the small hours, often working till 3 or 4 in the morning – mainly because the working day is so busy and broken up by things that mean finding more than half an hour here or there was tricky. Things were very different for The Earth Transformed, mainly because quite a lot was written in lockdown – so there were huge chunks of time to tackle topics like how cities emerged in Mesopotamia, how the islands of Polynesia were explored or what the effect was on global weather systems of nuclear tests in the 1950s and 1960s. Much less coffee was needed to get this book written; that’s probably quite good for my health in the long run. I can’t write or even read while listening to music. Our children all seem to be able to do so with no problem at all, but either I don’t have their concentration span, or they are a different generation and are able to do more than one thing at a time. But I love music – so whenever I switch to emails or take a few minutes of downtime, I get something playing. I was a chorister at Westminster Cathedral, so I have a soft spot for all the things we used to sing – Mass settings by Palestrina, the motets of Gabriel Fauré and Anton Bruckner. For this book, I’ve listened to Benjamin Britten’s Ceremony of Carols a lot, to quite a bit of Gabrieli and then some Victorian favourites that I first encountered at secondary school and then as a choral scholar at Cambridge; those are very jolly and suitably majestic for writing a book that covers some pretty big themes. Vox Dicentis by Edward Naylor will put a bit of extra oomph in the tank. I’ve been working on climate and environmental history for a while. Part of the reason for that is because there is so much new scientific material available that is throwing huge new beams of light on the past; but a lot is because of the precarious future that is around the corner. Of course, the story of the Creation is one of ecological balance and harmony; so too is that of the Fall of Man, with Adam and Eve throwing away a life of plenty for one of hardship, drought, flood and famine. I am very interested in how and why thinkers in the past were so anxious about vulnerability to changes to the natural world – something that can be found in other traditions too, such as in Mesoamerica and in Indian and Chinese cultures. I’ve had a great time writing The Earth Transformed and have learned a huge amount while doing so. Now it’s done, I hope people will enjoy it. One of my favourite moments after The Silk Roads came out was being told by someone who I met at a dinner that rather than offer an opinion about Central Asia, I should read a great book by someone who actually knew what they were talking about. I think you can guess what the book was called. Here’s hoping lightning strikes twice.&nbsp; <em>Peter Frankopan is professor of global history at Oxford University. His new book, The Earth Transformed: An Untold History, is published by Bloomsbury on March 2.</em>
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