This is a difficult book evaluate, for me at least, it was, by turns, fascinating, infuriating, superficial, insightful, polemical and haphazard, so I am torn between giving it two, three or four stars.
It is, to put it mildly, very difficult to write a history of the world. Fernández-Armesto explicitly disavows a grand framework: “Cosmic explanation -attractive but glib- is eschewed here [...] I have never met a determinist scheme which arises from the evidence or a model of change which does not sit on the subject like an ill-fitting hat [...] I propose that shifts of initiative cannot be understood wholly or primarily in terms of the movement of resources, of quantifiable data, of cyclical conflicts, of patterns or laws, or of the grinding structures of economic change.” Thus, historians like Vito, Hegel, Marx, Spengel, Toynbee and McNeil are all banished. The author prefers to leap fowards and backwards in time and place with the dizzy dexterity of an erudite Cirque du Soleil acrobat and “...speckle the broad canvas with a pointillist technique, picturing the past in significant details rather than bold strokes or heavy impasto.” In this sense, he is closer to the approach favoured by another oxonian scholar, Theodore Zeldin whose France 1848-1945 covers almost a hundred years of history, shuttling back and forth in time and place in order to convey a (very moot) sense of a French sociological personality.
Fernández-Armesto dazzles with an ever-open eye for effect and the possible television multi-part documentary, which CNN obligingly filmed but botched, since its Millenium series while ostensibly based on this book, actually provides an overarching theme for each of the ten centuries it covers in as many episodes -which is precisely the sort of framework the author vowed to keep away from...
In general, the less I knew about a topic, like Russian, Mongol or Chinese medieval history, the more I enjoyed the threads he unravels in the book, but the more he treaded on more familiar ground, the uneasier I felt with his interpretations. Sometimes the acrobatics become too much and his pointillist technique feels merely flashy, like his gratuitious section on a “dynasty” of Irish merchants specializing, among other products in madeira or his delight in informing you that the British short story writer known as Saki´s “collateral ancestor” (an uncle? A cousin twice removed?) was mauled to death by a tiger and that Tipu Sultan, ruler of Mysore comissioned a mechanical automaton simulating this unfortunate event. His treatment of the Portuguese empire and his characterization of the British conquering India as the “last conquistadors” are fascinating, but his characterization of the mayan, aztec and inca empires as “shy and retiring empires”, are baffling unless meant as rather pompous humour.
In general, he argues convincingly that, given enough time, the West´s apparent dominion of the world from, say, the seventeenth to the twentieth century, will eventually prove to be ephemeral, modest and more of a delusion than a reality. From a distant enough perspective, for Fernández-Armesto, the millenium will probably prove to have been dominated by China´s shadow and the growth of Islam.
All in all, a book worth reading for its sheer bravado and excellent show sense, but which must be consumed with a salt cellar at hand and balanced by reading something along the lines of William McNeill´s The Rise of the West: A History of the Human Community.
The Scribner paperback version includes many (unnumbered) illustrations in black and white; interesting though many of them are, unfortunately some seem like mere padding and others have too low a resolution to be helpful.