For Taylor Caldwell's legions of fans, this novel provides her usual wealth of historical detail and finely drawn characters. The book covers the early life of the great conqueror, focusing primarily on characters: his stern and indomitable mother, the cynical and outcast uncle who educates him, his manipulative wife Bortei, the boyhood friends who become his generals and paladins, and his blood brother Jamuga, who is both his dearest friend and bitterest enemy. Caldwell provides considerable rationale for Genghis Khan's later spectacular career of conquest. The novel draws a hugely colorful and very detailed portrait of life in Central Asia during the Middle Ages: from nomadic desert tribes, to wealthy and decadent cities like Samarkand, to the decaying empires of China. For lovers of colorful historical fiction, this book is quite a treat!
Also known by the pen names Marcus Holland and Max Reiner.
Taylor Caldwell was born in Manchester, England. In 1907 she emigrated to the United States with her parents and younger brother. Her father died shortly after the move, and the family struggled. At the age of eight she started to write stories, and in fact wrote her first novel, The Romance of Atlantis, at the age of twelve (although it remained unpublished until 1975). Her father did not approve such activity for women, and sent her to work in a bindery. She continued to write prolifically, however, despite ill health. (In 1947, according to TIME magazine, she discarded and burned the manuscripts of 140 unpublished novels.)
In 1918-1919, she served in the United States Navy Reserve. In 1919 she married William F. Combs. In 1920, they had a daughter, Mary (known as "Peggy"). From 1923 to 1924 she was a court reporter in New York State Department of Labor in Buffalo, New York. In 1924, she went to work for the United States Department of Justice, as a member of the Board of Special Inquiry (an immigration tribunal) in Buffalo. In 1931 she graduated from SUNY Buffalo, and also was divorced from William Combs.
Caldwell then married her second husband, Marcus Reback, a fellow Justice employee. She had a second child with Reback, a daughter Judith, in 1932. They were married for 40 years, until his death in 1971.
In 1934, she began to work on the novel Dynasty of Death, which she and Reback completed in collaboration. It was published in 1938 and became a best-seller. "Taylor Caldwell" was presumed to be a man, and there was some public stir when the author was revealed to be a woman. Over the next 43 years, she published 42 more novels, many of them best-sellers. For instance, This Side of Innocence was the biggest fiction seller of 1946. Her works sold an estimated 30 million copies. She became wealthy, traveling to Europe and elsewhere, though she still lived near Buffalo.
Her books were big sellers right up to the end of her career. During her career as a writer, she received several awards.
She was an outspoken conservative and for a time wrote for the John Birch Society's monthly journal American Opinion and even associated with the anti-Semitic Liberty Lobby. Her memoir, On Growing Up Tough, appeared in 1971, consisting of many edited-down articles from American Opinion.
Around 1970, she became interested in reincarnation. She had become friends with well-known occultist author Jess Stearn, who suggested that the vivid detail in her many historical novels was actually subconscious recollection of previous lives. Supposedly, she agreed to be hypnotized and undergo "past-life regression" to disprove reincarnation. According to Stearn's book, The Search of a Soul - Taylor Caldwell's Psychic Lives, Caldwell instead began to recall her own past lives - eleven in all, including one on the "lost continent" of Lemuria.
In 1972, she married William Everett Stancell, a retired real estate developer, but divorced him in 1973. In 1978, she married William Robert Prestie, an eccentric Canadian 17 years her junior. This led to difficulties with her children. She had a long dispute with her daughter Judith over the estate of Judith's father Marcus; in 1979 Judith committed suicide.
Also in 1979, Caldwell suffered a stroke, which left her unable to speak, though she could still write. (She had been deaf since about 1965.) Her daughter Peggy accused Prestie of abusing and exploiting Caldwell, and there was a legal battle over her substantial assets.
This is the story of Temujin, son of Houlon and Yesukai. Even if he loved his wife Bortei, his true love was Azara, daughter of Toghrul Kahn.
As usual, the author is able to portray with plenty of historical details the life of this great conqueror who founded the Mongol Empire.
According to Wikipedia, "he was buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in Mongolia at an unknown location."
Genghis Khan was the second greatest conqueror of all time, behind only Alexander the Great.
Plenty of movies have been made about this famous historical figure but the most known version Gengis Khan (1965) is the one with Omar Sharif as Temujin and Stephen Boyd as Jamuga, the sworn brother of Temujin.
I chased this to the ends of the earth. It's sourced on Harold Lamb's book Genghis Khan: Conqueror of All Men from 1927 - you can tell because Taylor Caldwell uses his peculiar name forms and terminology. I thought (the author isn't alive to be upset with me) she just used the one research book. Jamuqa is oddly virtuous in this and stands up, with regret, against his oath-brother Temujin. I saw this lauded in an article on the web - if you Google the title, perhaps with 'Temujin' or 'Genghis' you can find it - 'Better served by fiction' that sighed over the biographies of him as inadequate: he needs an epic tale, people come to him for the spirit of romance, not dry history that explains nothing. I liked that article and the idea that he's 'better served by fiction', and Taylor Caldwell, a popular novelist, does make a tale.
I discovered Taylor Caldwell as a young teen and devoured as much as I could find of hers back then. Suddenly, 50 years later, I found another, in my bookshelves. No idea how or when it got there, but what a lovely surprise. Each time I read her, then and now, I am amazed that that I enjoy her books. The language is stilted, old-fashioned, even more so today. The narrative is more involved in introspection than action, and still it holds me, for more than 500 pages.
Quotes that caught my eye I should never have gone to Cathay, he thought. I should never have seen of what man is capable, if he wills. If a man drinks of the flaming cup of knowledge, there is no peace henceforth for him, but only loneliness and longing, hatred and sadness. He must walk amo0ng his fellows like a leprous dog, hating and hated, yet filled with pity and madness, knowing much and knowing little, but understanding only that he can never know anything. He must see his stature dwindle to nothingness, yet be tortured with an awareness of infinity, without bounds. (18)
The voice of the flute wailed, but its wailing rose and at last it was triumphant, its thin flame assaulting and piercing the heavens, not lighting them but entering them. It entered the chaos of eternity, and burned there, not illuminating it, but apart from it, beautiful and sad and defiant. It was the soul of man, besieged and alien, lost and little and bright, assailed by all the winds of heaven and hell, seeking and fragile and living. Its trembling voice spoke of love and God and futility and pain, but always of hope, even under its despair. (18)
Long after others were asleep, he would sit on the yurt platform, his lashes brisling with ice, and watch the measureless streaming of the Northern Lights, and listen to their crackling. Ribbon by ribbon, leagues in length, they would explode and uncurl against the black sky, hurting the eye with their blazes of scarlet and blue and dazzling white. False rainbows, vivid and incredible, would arch against the lightless darkness, pulsing and flaming. Crowns, hundreds of miles in diameter, would glitter and burn, their ragged points gemmed with stars. (81)
Hunger, the great destroyer of love and friendship and tolerance, had been drowned in the flood of new milk and trampled in the cavorting of new life. (82)
I said to them: “It is true that in Cathay are many treasures, but not what ye seek. They are treasures of the mind, the jewels of philosophy, the gems of fine manners and gracious living.” But of these things they had never heard, and stared at me with scornful amazement, as men might stare at an idiot. (86)
It is wine of priceless vintage, and becometh no less intoxicating in an earthen cup than in a golden one. (115)
Temujin, for all his gloomy and angered preoccupation that night, learned his first and most significant lesson: that some men can be won with words, a few with love, many with gifts, but all with the threat of force. He learned that a strong whip in the hand of a master is greater than any philosophy, and that a stern boot is more feared than all the gods. He was het to learn that a few, if only a very few, can be won by reason, and that even less fear nothing except their own consciences. But even when he learned that, he knew that these few were insignificant in influence provided the master never lost belief in his mastery. (136)
Remember that man is not so much the slave of his fellow-men, as he is of his consciousness of his own inferiority. (138)
He was all things to all men. He was the image every man saw in his own reflection, but glorified and invincible and mighty. He deceived even Jamuga, who was passionately willing to believe. But he deceived neither Kurelen nor Kokchu. Kurelen hoped for the best Kokchu hoped only for reflected power. (180)
Toghrul Khan, now old, was a man of pleasant address, and smooth smiling face. His voice was gentile and ingratiating, and he was given to great piety. But his piety was flexible; when it pleased him, he loved Islam, and gave honour to Mohammed. Again, when it was necessary, he was full of Christian sweetness. His people had, in large part, been converted by Saints Andrew and Thomas to Christianity, and more and more, as he aged, and found it expedient, he leaned towards this religion. He was a great rascal, a liar, a hypocrite, full of craft and treachery and self-seeking, never quailing from murder, but able, at all times, to attach a Christian phrase to a monstrous deed. (181)
Once he cynically said to his son: ‘Be a man of great virtue and honour and courage; be a hero before whom all obstacles disappear. Be noble and just and brave. And all this will be as nothing to win the faith and love of others. But speak thou words of honey, argue with no man but agree with all; smile sweetly and tenderly. Be full of promises, which are not necessary to fulfil. Let thine eye dwell with affection on every man, even if thou hatest him. And I tell thee that the people, who have only souls of dogs, will hang upon they footsteps and die gladly for thee. A pliable tongue costs nothing, but it will bring treasures to its owners.’ (181)
Let a man seek virtue, and he will find wantonness. Let him seek honour among men, and he will discover himself in a den of thieves. Let him seek God in the world, and he will find nothingness. Let him search for a just man, and he will find a bloody sword, let him cry for love unto the hearts of men, and hatred will answer. Let him seek in the places of mankind for peace, and he will find himself among the dead. Let him call unto the nations for truth, and falsehood and treachery will echo him. But let him seek all goodness in himself, in humility and gentleness and faith, and he will see the face of God, and will find all the world arrayed in light and mercy. And the, at least, he will no longer fear any man. (236)
Surely Jamuga Sechen, we can never understand such men by attempting to decipher their souls by our own code. If we do, we come upon confusion. We cannot use their own code because it is a secret one, never to be understood by us. If even vaguely guessed, we would be stunned and incredulous and believe that we are having a bad dream, where shadows have become light, and light, shadows. But do not try to comprehend, lest thou go mad. (281-82)
Jamuga hath lost the whole world, but hath finally found his soul. (283)
He was not the slow-planning man who carefully lays his plots far in advance. The plots are there, shimmering but nebulous in the distance, and he was content to approach them hourly and steadily, trusting to circumstance and fate and luck to aid him, to guide him when the moment to seize has arrived. Details were not cautiously plotted for the future. The city stood before him on a hill, the thousands of cities of his life, shining and glorious but shadowy, and it was always enough for him, and would always be enough, to ride towards it inexorably, armoured with luck and desire and relentlessness, and to wait until he was at the very gates before planning the last decisive campaign. Thus, he never spent himself in advance, and arrived at the last moment fresh and enthusiastic and irresistible. Neither was he hampered nor distracted with previously laid plans, and could proceed brilliantly, taking advantage of every new circumstance which presented itself, and which he could never have foreseen. Historians were later to say that every campaign he conducted was planned far into the future, to the last detail. But that was not true. Like every great man he vaguely saw the vast and glorious future, but was wise enough to conduct the immediate skirmish only, trusting to destiny to lead him on to the next, and then the next, closer at each hour to the ultimate goal. Thus he lived always in the element of surprise, both for himself and others. Not knowing exactly what he would do on the morrow, his enemies could never know either. Once Kurelen had told him: ‘He who plans for tomorrow completely is a fool, he hath failed to take into his calculations the human equation, which must always frustrate and baffle him. Too, Fate is a knave to many tricks, and delighteth in nothing more than in presenting to the plotter new labyrinths and new passes, which his plotting had not dreamed existed. (284-85)
Kurelen once told us that thou mayest rob a man, betray him, worst him in any encounter, and thou mayest at some time obtain his forgiveness, and even his friendship. But if thou dost humiliate him, and laugh at him, he will never forgive thee, but will always remain thy remorseless enemy. (300)
He said again, in a voice loud and protesting: ‘If every man believed like this, there would be no kings, no generals, no rulers, no wars, no conquests!’ The bishop lifted his head, and he smiled, and it seemed to Temujin that the room was flooded with light. ‘True,’ he said, softly, ‘there would be none of these things!’ All at once Temujin was possessed by a veritable fury of impatience. ‘Thy faith would emasculate the strength of men! It would reduce the world to a maudlin host of slaves! It would rob man of his greatest joy; war and glory! It would take the beard from the face of manhood, destroy the roughness in its voice, set men to spinning and ploughing, and break down the walls of the strong cities. What could survive of joy and jubilation and courage, in such a congregation of eunuchs?’ (312)
But Temujin found the brawling throngs themselves worthy of observation. Motley, composed of many races, they moved, sweating and pushing, through the streets. Here were tall fierce Afghans, moustached and hugely turbaned, and stinking; here were Buddhist and Taoist monks, in red and yellow garments, their wide-brimmed hats throwing purple shadows on their cool ivory faces, their hands holding prayer-wheels; here were subtle, sever-lipped and burning-eyed Jews, carrying their manuscripts of prayers, and glancing about them shrewdly or austerely; here were visiting desert-dwellers in their deerskin boots and fur caps; here were dignified Chinese, Tibetans, Hindoos, Karaits, Uighurs, the Merkit, Turks, and even tall blue-eyed men from the frozen 3wastes, the reindeer people. There were Persians, also, elegantly clad and bored, feeling vastly superior to these mongrel crowds.
Now police appeared, armed with staves, and laid about them with democratic impartiality. (339)
Temujin smiled, as at a silly child. ‘Mercy is the luxury of the strong. We are not strong enough yet.’ (380)
‘History is always contemporary,’ he observed. (393)
But he was sternest with the pries5ts, who he knew were the seeds of bitterness and dissension. ‘Teach your people that god is the father of all mankind,’ he said, ‘and that he who sayeth god is only his father, and not the father of others, is a liar.’ (398-99)
‘I have lived long enough to know that nothing is so simple as the intellectual man would have us believe. I believe that the love of war doth reside, not in any king’s or priest’s artful eyes, but in the nature of man himself. The bloodless and the pale will deny this, but it is so.’ ‘Thou dost believe men would prefer blood and death and torture and hatred, to peace and security and friendship?’ asked Jamuga, incredulously. Kurelen nodded, slowly. ‘Yes, because peace and security are monotonous and maddening. They insist that strength devour itself behind safe walls, like a chained animal. But the steel and blood and death of war doth answer to the adventurous and virile spirit of man, and to his mystic urge for self-sacrifice and self-abnegation. And so he doth feel a greater security than peace can bring, the security of being part of one enormous purpose and universal urge, and of having served something greater than himself.’ He smiled at Jamuga’s pale and repudiating face. ‘The problem of the ages, if there is ever to be peace, is to make that peace, not drab and monotonous and stagnating, an affront to the rebellious and active spirit of man, but adventurous and exciting, calling forth all the self-sacrifice and virility of his nature. And, Jamuga, this will not be found in books or in philosophies, which are dry dust settling on dead faces.’ He laughed. ‘Our learning doth belittle men. War doth exalt them. It is we who are dying, not they. We discourse, and they live!’ But Jamuga was silent. He was watching something else, with a sad intentness. Then he said suddenly: ‘Observe the faces of the women. They are not gay nor jubilant, but only wretched and full of grief and fear.’ Kurelen looked at the women. And then he answered in a low voice: ‘It is part of our decadence, Jamuga Sechen, that we consider women.’ (402-403)
I distrust Kasar, for all his simplicity. Simple men are always dangerous, for they get a single idea and act on it stubbornly, like a mule. (404)
The plough, thought Jamuga, with a sudden sense of refreshment, is the weapon of the civilized against the uncivilized, the first stone in the wall raised against barbarism. For the man who ploughed the earth, and tended it, had no desire to heap it with corpses. The first step towards chaos, too, was the huge paved city, which removed its people from the earth, and filled them with the restless and rapacious spirit of the nomads. Between the barbarism of the city hordes, and the barbarism of the desert hordes, there was no difference. Ferocity and brutality sprang from homelessness, whether it be on barren or city street. The barbarian urbanite and the barbarian desert-dweller were blood brothers, having nothing to lose but their miserable lives, and having everything to gain by murder and cruelty and rapacity. Peace cometh from the earth, Jamuga had read. He had read it, but had not understood. But now, looking at the yellow heads of the grain, watching them ripple like a golden sea in the wind, he understood. The man who raised bread was the man of peace, but the homeless man who hated and sharpened his sword was the enemy of all other men. Wars and oppressions would end on the day when every man had a plot of earth to call his own. Who could watch the sun rising and setting on his own soil, and the lust to go forth and subjugate and destroy others? (423)
It is no secret…. Peace and justice and mercy and reason are simple things. Here, they are not a theory; they are a way of life. (434)
In that yurt, in that tent upon the empty and limitless barrens, the fate of a whole world was decided, and history, standing, waiting, lifted her pen and began to write. She marvelled to herself that these barbarians could so decide the destiny of millions of men, and then she recalled to herself that it was only the same old story, the same old bloody tale. (465)
The frail and sickly man, the dwindled eunuch, is always the exponent of cruelty and ruthlessness. It is he who doth create tyrants and murderers. It is the man without loins who doth loudly sing of the virile. It is the man without courage who doth put a sword in the hand of the merciless. (469-70)
It was said that Temujin was everywhere. He was striking at the unconquered Merkit and Karait and Uighur and Naiman, in a hundred different places at the identical time, hundreds of miles apart. It was whispered that he rode on the whirlwind. Complete frenzy and demoralization flew over the Gobi. At the last, it was not the hordes of Temujin that defeated the enemy. It was his very name, terrible and mystic. (504)
Cathayan scholars had said that liberty was dearest and nearest to the heart of all men. This was proved to be a bitter lie. For Temujin knew that above liberty, men loved a whip, above freedom, they worshipped a sword, above an elected leader, they adored a tyrant, who discounted their ability to think, and commanded instead of consulted. He knew that men voluptuously revel in complete surrender, as women secretly revel in rape. In surrender, men experience a sensual orgasm. And as he conquered, and saw the grovelling and adoration of the people, his hatred and contempt for all mankind grew. He said to himself: ‘These are soulless beasts. If they were not, they would prefer death and endless struggle to servitude.’ But this was a counsel he kept to himself. He preferred to tell the conquered that they were heroes. That he subjugated them only to add to their own strength, and set them as kings upon the earth. More and more he de3spised and loathed the priests, who persuaded the people to give up their liberties and their independence. Buddhist and Christian, Shaman and Mohammadan, Confucian and Taoist, he could depend upon the priests to deliver the people into his hands, bound and helpless. And so, to the end of his life, he believed that priests were the enemies of all men, and was careful to guard himself against them as against serpents. (506-507)
This is the tale of a young Genghis Khan. I read it at 12 or 13. The story transfixed me, as did Taylor’s powerful writing itself, and the fiery romances she portrayed so well. Several scenes were unforgettable and I can bring them to mind right now without any effort. Taylor was an amazing storyteller with a sensual and colorful touch.
Un relato lleno de personalidades tormentosas y apasionantes, seguido de un final épico digno de la historia de uno de los conquistadores más conocidos de la humanidad. El ascenso al poder de Genghis Khan, Temujin, narrado con la audacia y el misticismo que encierra la prosa de Taylor Caldwell se convierte en una novela que vale la pena leer.
I was doubtful about the way she started off the main character, but after 25% I looked back to beginning & I really enjoyed the way she started the book off. No mention of Ghengis Khan.
But about 75% through the book, a love passion seemed to have too much time wasted on it, but maybe that was needed to move the characters on till the end of the book.
Jamuga whipping the Khans wife without suffering consequences, stretched the credibility.
Over all I'm glad I read the book. A growth in culture, ancient history & more hooks to grab on to. Marco Polo, China's wall, etc. Enjoy
This is an old book, written when paperbacks were .35, sentences were built with an overabundance of adjectives, and complex in construction. The story itself is probably far from accurate but still enjoyable. It was interesting to see how writing has changed over the decades and most importantly, the impact that Temujin, or Genghis Kahn, had upon the world.
"El arado -pensó Jamuga con repentina lucidez- es el arma de los civilizados contra los bárbaros, la primera piedra en la muralla levantada contra la barbarie. Porque el hombre que ara la tierra y la cuida, no tiene deseos de llenarlas de cadáveres" Excelente novela de ficción histórica sobre la vida de Temujin, o como pasó a ser conocida por la historia como Genghis Khan el gran conquistador mongol que formó uno de los imperios más imponentes del mundo. Se adentra mucho en la psiquis colectiva de esas tribus nómadas de las estepas que envidiaban (pero al mismo tiempo aborrecía) la forma de vida de los imperios de la época como el Chino. Apunta a las sombras de este personaje y lo contrapone con el de Jamuga, un pacifista, un filósofo que sin duda se convirtio en mi personaje favorito. OJO: Esta novela es altamente recomendada
I recommend the book. I know this author but do not recall a title of hers that I have read. Had it not come up for free or nearly free on BookBub, I would not have read it at all. The loss would have been mine. I liked the book's cover because it depicted the fury of Genghis Khan. But this author focused on the inner workings of Genghis Khan's mind rather than his conquests. Jamuga, (sp) Genghis' best friend, had a totally different belief system than Genghis, and I agreed with one for awhile until I agreed with the other. The book did not tell the history of the main character like other writers that I have read have done, but this book made me criticize Genghis Khan, sometimes unfavorably. I had to recognize that Genghis was a foul smelling and barbaric person. He had the 'big head' from birth. Yet, he was mesmerizing, and I still love him so, thanks to Mr. Conn Iggulden. She often used diametrical descriptions of things. An example would be that a thing was both awful and beautiful. The author overly described some scenes ( I think she analyzed every pebble of sand in the Gobi dessert as well as every color in the skies) and paid too little attention to scenes about which I wanted to know more. Speaking of Mr. Iggulden and other writers on the subject of Genghis Khan, including the present author, their accounts of this history do not match. Perhaps they all took advantage of poetic license. Her writing mechanics were good.
Thank you (posthumously), Ms. Caldwell, for a good read.
Nuevamente Taylor Caldwell vuelve a explorar la naturaleza del comportamiento del Ser Humano a través de la vida temprana de Genghis Khan (Temujin)y su entorno. Se trata a detalle como era la vida de las tribus en el Gobi, como vivían, cuales eran sus prioridades y la base de su sociedad, explora de igual forma el entorno y ambiente en el cual creció Temujin, como poco a poco hechos de su vida lo fueron marcando para finalmente convertirlo en el sanguinario e implacable Genghis Khan. Al igual que en la Columna de Hierro, como Cicerón y Julio César, Caldwell contrapone dos posturas de vida del Ser Humano que en este caso son Jamuga y Temujin, uno buscando la vida de paz y racional, mientras que el otro busca la violencia y la exaltación de las pasiones. A fin de cuentas el libro nos ayuda a entender el contexto bajo el cual se desarrollo la personalidad de Genghis Khan.
Para los fanáticos de Game of Thrones, me gusta pensar que George RR Martin se basó en la cultura de los Mongoles para crear a loa Dothraki, su devoción por la fuerza, la violencia, rapiña, saqueo y violación parece ser sacada de los Mongoles mismos, al igual que su adoración y veneración por los caballos y la fuerza misma.
Para los fanáticos de novelas históricas. Aquí recorremos la vida del gran khan Temujin antes de convertirse en leyenda a lo largo de todo el territorio de Gobi, y la relación que tiene con su "consejo" conformado por su tío Kurelen, sus amigos Jamuga y Subodai y su mujer Bortei. La novela también gira alrededor de la idea que confronta el orden, la disciplina y la violencia de la guerra necesarios para cumplir la ambición de conquista de Temujin contra la paz y la libertad a la que podría aspirar, si tan sólo se rindiera... pero ya sabemos que así no va la historia.
Genghis Kean Imagined Taylor Caldwell was an author my mother admired, so this was a reason to read this one. My brother-in-law had visited Mongolia last year, and this may have been another motivation. Whatever the source, I satisfied the need for a 'lighter' book with characters while still addressing my thirst for learning. The facts about Genghis Khan are somewhat easily said. But once said, it is most difficult to fathom. I have long appreciated how historical fiction can be helpful in providing a framework for understanding. In this case, the general description of the nomadic Mongolian is as much as anyone knows about Genghis Khan's origins and rise to power. Caldwell's genius is in personification of what is known. This makes the alien place and time come alive and become memorable. Part of the story most interesting to me is the imagining of the psychic forces that motivated the historical figures. Here she presents the various religions of the time. 1162 – August 18, 1227 is the Wikipedia data for Genghis Khan's life. Geographically, it seems a certainty that all of the world's religions were present, including those of the Chinese empire. It must also be that these religions had to coexist and even subordinate to the political and military forces, much as they are today. What I most liked was the contrasting of overall philosophies that could explain the domination never before or since realized. She presents four or five different societies. First are the subsistence nomads who are always on the edge of existence. There is a certain dignity to this group in that they are not amassing wealth or seeking power over others extcept to protect from extinction. This lowest form gives up its freedom by allying with like tribes for protection and raiding weaker tribes. This second lowest form is subordinated by the richer city states. The city states are mostly independent, but themselves subservient to the larger empires. One last alternative was an agriculturally-based society of independents, who were inherently peaceful and independent. Khan's genius was to recognize the weaknesses in all of these and to understand that a united hoard of merciless warriors could conquer them all. It required a complete ignoring of norms and even logic when it came to numbers, and any other disadvantage. It is not to say that Khan's rise was known to be thoughtful and planned. On the other hand, what else but an ambition of ruling the entire known world could explain what we know to be history?
If you want to be told a story, pick up a Taylor Caldwell novel. That said, be prepared to be told the whole story including backgrounds of characters, descriptions of the innermost thoughts and feelings of characters and sometimes not the main characters. In most cases in most of her novels these include a disdain for Christianity, an obsession for one of the opposite sex of the main character, and a conspiracy. I haven’t found anything about conspiracy in this novel though it is always possible that I didn’t pay much attention. I do find in most of her novels a tendency to over describe and analyze which may have been one reason I put this book down halfway through. Here we go again, I thought. Having read other novels where my understanding of the historical time is stronger I can vouch for the fact that she does do a great amount of research, or has it done for her. In this case I cannot tell that. What I can tell is that I get a little tired in her novels of reading the same story, though I suppose the case could be made that whether one is a conquered or a slave one can have the same thoughts. I always say I’m not going to read any more of her works and then I find myself drawn to her again: it must be the story element no matter how repetitive. So, on a cold night by a fire with nothing else to do pick up this novel. If you’re in a hurry, don’t do it.
I finally found this book by my favorite author, Taylor Caldwell, and I can say without a doubt that I loved it. Yes, it's not my favorite book from her, but as always, I really enjoyed how she built these characters while submerging us into the historical context of Temujin, son of Yesukai.
This is the story of Temujin, a small Khan who managed to take his small tribe and make it a nation; the book focuses on the early days of Temujin, how he became that relentless and unmercifuly warlord that conquered a huge part of Eurasia. The author subtly gives us clues as to how this person ambition was in his nature but also was nurtured by the people around him, making him the perfect man to start one of the bloodiest empires that have ever existed on this earth.
One of the things that I liked the most about this book was how his mom, sworn brother, uncle, etcetera, first kind of feeded his 'delusions' of grandeur and then, when they saw the consequences of it, of how Temujin really justified a lot of atrocities due to his 'destiny' they were like 'maybe this wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had' and then they had to reckon with it in a tragic way.
Be aware that there's some racist remarks here and there by the author. Made me a bit uncomfortable, but I understand (not justify, though) due to the time when this was written.
When it comes to historical fiction, particularly about Genghis Khan, the benchmark I hold it up to is Conn Iggulden’s excellent The Wolf of the Plains which, interestingly, omits entirely the Jamuga part of Temujin's early story. In this novel, their relationship is at the core of the story.
As this was written in the 1940s, I imagine a lot of the descriptions of Mongolia came from Caldwell's imagination due to the lack of availability to travel, in contrast to Iggulden, writing 60 years later, who travelled to Mongolia for research. This difference is apparent in Caldwell's writing of the Mongolian landscape, here described like an alien landscape and overall much more creative licence taken. It is though, exquisitely written, if a bit archaically by today's standards. Jamuga particularly is a sympathetic character and the story takes turns that make it almost like a Shakespearean tragedy. Temujin - to become Genghis Khan - consolidates his power in the end, but at a terrible cost to him and those nearest to him.
Sometimes we want to think that we are very intelligent and therefore invulnerable. We don't like to think that others could come and take away our place, our riches, our hard-earned status.
And I see it with people who think that the West is invincible, that the US is the most powerful country in the world and always will be. Do you remember Rome? Of the Persian empire?
In this book, Taylor Cadwell tells us about the story of Genghis Khan, born into a nomadic tribe, with no great future or aspiration. He could not read or write and yet he founded the greatest empire ever known to mankind.
He stopped coming to the west for personal reasons, but he could have swept it away. His strategies, tactics and impalpability made him invincible.
El libro nos narra la historia de Temujín que llegará a unificar a los pueblos nómadas del Gobi, pasa de ser un lobo nómada de la estepa, al primer emperador mongol, a sus líderes les brinda un estilo de vida opulento y suntuoso que lo lleva a obtener un gran aprecio, una lealtad total y ciega, su poderío lo llevaría a ser denominado por los cristianos como "el azote de dios", al creer que Temujin es un enviado enviado del cielo para castigar los pecados de los cristianos.
I first read this book in 1954 when i was sixteen I still say it is a good book.. I did skip over the flowery phases when it came to landscape and weather, etc., but overall I think Caldwell did excellent in telling the story of Ghengis Khan (otherwise named as Temujin, his birth name). One thing that never changes is the story of the human condition.
This version is very flowery and different. I am sure it is well researched and I was very surprised at the description of Genesis. I have read other books but they didn’t describe him as having bright Red hair and green eyes sometimes becoming gray or blue. I wish it had a follow up book.
Taylor Caldwell's beautiful prose and attention to historical detail make her books a pleasure to read. Not a quick read, but an entertaining and satisfying one.
Amazing fictional account of the rise of Chinngis Khan as a world power arising from Mongolia. Great character development, good action sequences, poetic language as she describes the beauty of the steppe. Highly recommended.
Once I stressed read the first part of the book, I was engaged. The book checked all the boxes for me. Once I was engaged, I couldn't read fast enough. The author develops the characters and storyline quiet well. I can't say too much or I will give the story away.