The thing about being the biggest reader in an extended family of small to moderate readers is, at some inevitable point in life, your bookshelf becomes the unofficial book dustbin for everyone else. Instead of selling or donating the books my big fat Indian family hates slash decides to never pick up once, they just "gift" them to me. And this is precisely how I, a predominantly fiction aficionado and very decidedly not into studying history, ended up with a deeply niche nonfiction book on ancient Chinese history in my hands.
Don't get me wrong. I love history. I love to randomly start Wikipedia scrolling on obscure articles about a certain mediaeval queen from Ireland or watch hour-long video essays on the significance of crinolines in Western fashion from a feminist point of view. It's just that after graduating middle school, history stopped becoming a subject in general which I could potentially see myself reading a dense 400-page book on. But after ignoring this sad little hardcover for almost nine years, I felt compelled to take it with me on a long vacation as a last ditch effort to crack it open, because god knows I turn into my least snooty reader self while being forced into leaving the comfort of my home by my travel addict parents.
I suppose by now you've come to the understanding that this is going to be very much of an outlier's review, because I'm positive that this is the first and last book from this genre I'm ever going to read, unless, off course, another one of my cousins decides to drop off a second book on the making of, say, the hanging garden of Babylon. And with my armour of naivety, I can safely say that contrary to my initial thoughts, I found myself really enjoying the book. For those unaware, the titular Terracotta Army is a marvellous relic of China's rich cultural heritage. These life-size terracotta statues were modelled after the formidable army of the First Emperor of China, as his spirit guards to accompany him in his afterlife, buried with him inside his tomb. John Man, the historian slash researcher slash author of this book, gives us a detailed account of the sculptures, from their chance discovery in post-revolutionary China at the hands of six farmer siblings who were just trying to dig up a well to battle a drought to the historical and utterly dramatic circumstances of their conception. He writes about the eighth wonder of the world with a passion that quickly managed to seep into even an unusual reader as me. His easy narration, coupled with a subtle sense of humour, made the undoubtedly dry technical bits adequately gripping. I especially liked learning about Sima Qian, the Chinese equivalent of Herodotus or Rishi Vyas dev, who cleverly exaggerated parts of the historic characterisation of the Qin emperor, for whom the clay army was built, to take subtle digs at his own sadistic and often ruthless emperor. My knowledge about Chinese history was embarrassingly infinitesimal to begin with, and I'm sure even a historical discovery as magnificent as the terracotta army would only take up a minimal portion of thousands of years of rich cultural heritage of the nation, but at the end of the day, I'm happy to have gained enough funda on this topic from this book to give verbose and overextending lectures to my unassuming, and soon-to-be suffering friends at some restaurant one day.