An "enormously entertaining" (Smithsonian), "clever, subtle, and adroit" account (Wall Street Journal) of how the author and his friend constructed a medieval siege engine in a San Francisco backyard. "So funny that I could not put it down" (Los Angeles Times).
Here's another neglected book from the early 90s that, while getting strong reviews and (I'm assuming) selling decently (given that Paul was then offered to write something of a sequel a few years later), has all but been scrubbed from the internet. I found it at the library bookstore for a buck and, intrigued by the quirky title, knew I had to have it. The scant bio at the end of the book tells us that Paul is a poet who has been published in a number of high profile publications. He's also a writer-at-large who has contributed (from the autobiographical details herein) topical pieces for mainstream media outlets. Aside from these details, my internet sleuthing leads me nowhere.
Looking at the book, you'd be forgiven for thinking it's just another gimmicky memoir in the AJ Jacobs vein--two guys build a catapult, and the author pads out the story with excerpts from the history of warfare and personal reminiscences. However, the book quickly exceeded my expectations on this front, showing me that it *was* intended as literature, and not just a quirky conversation piece.
In essence, Paul had one of those intrusive thoughts that many of us have but usually ignore. Hefting a piece of ancient rock in his hand, he was struck with the idea to make a catapult, so he could shoot the thing into the ocean. Rather than dropping the rock and going about his life, Paul yields to this surprising desire, following it through to completion. Along the way, he recruits his friend Harry--an artist with mechanical abilities--and manages to finagle a grant from a local art foundation.
Paul's book traces the journey of these two men as they work toward their goal. This is pre-internet, and, instead of just printing out some online instructions, they puzzle out the design based on pictures they find at the local library. There's a lot of sleuthing among blue collar establishments, as they seek out the pieces (and the help) they will need to construct this monstrosity. Eventually, and somewhat improbably, they finish ahead of their deadline and the reader is treated to a wonderful scene of two grown men, seized by boyhood glee, shooting rocks off a ravine within a beautiful natural setting.
What makes the book sneakily profound, however, is the way that Paul stubbornly resists letting it dissolve into too much of a feel-good boys adventure. Paul interrogates the urge to make destructive weaponry, and honestly shows us the complicated feelings aroused by their completed project, one capable of smashing heads in from 100 yards away. Likewise, the friendship between Harry and Paul is also complicated, and Paul doesn't shy away from exploring its tensions. Tellingly, the book does not end with the triumphant catapult firing; instead, Paul first walks us through a disastrous presentation for the local art foundation (at which time, both men seem to feel a mix of emotions about their project) and then ends with a moving act of construction that has nothing to do with the art of war. Elsewhere, Paul fills the book out with entertaining and moving sketches about the history of warfare and the destructive impulses of men as well as some really well-rendered autobiographical scenes, including a moving reminiscence about his complicated relationship with his father.
Men acting as boys, men and war, male friendship, fathers and sons; these are the major themes of this book (where yes, women are only ever side characters). While I know there are critiques to some of Paul's history (there's a fascinating article available on google scholar written by a medieval scholar who builds his own trebuchet and specifically calls out certain historical errors by Paul) I trust you aren't really picking up this book to be educated about Roman weaponry. Instead, you are here to embrace a journey that is, as the cover tells us, sneakily profound and addictively readable.
A great find that I really enjoyed and highly recommend for those inclined to indulge profound man-child adventures
I bought a pristine copy of this book in a used bookstore in Ithaca, NY in late March, 2008.
After reading it, I understand why it was pristine.
Fortunately, it was a gift for someone who REALLY wants to build a catapult with me, so it's still useful. As a gift, I can't imagine a better fit, but I may be unique in my motivations for its purchase.
A super fast read, it does contain a periodic glimmer of information on its subject, but truthfully, it appears to be a vehicle that aspired to a "Pet Rock" infectiousness and was apparently not successful.
Nonetheless, the author wrote at least one more book than I (my current count is 0), and I have to give him credit for doing that. It is readable, edited, organized, and somewhat informative, and totally lacking in photos. I'd have appreciated SEEING what was being described. I do feel more informed on the subject, which has long disappeared from daily discourse.
I am also now slightly better equipped for such time as I may find myself stranded on a desert island, and needing to defend myself from mutant dinosaurs.
A delightful story about engineering, friendship, and man's drive to build ever better weapons of mass destruction. At times quite funny, always thoughtful. I really enjoyed this little gem.
I thought this memoir about a couple of dudes building an actual catapult would be a zany, clever nostalgia trip back to the ‘90s. Well, it was nostalgic alright. But mostly, it was just rambling and pointless. Jim never arrives at any deeper insight about why he and Harry wanted to build a big rock shooter in the first place or what the experience meant to them in the end. The book alternates long-winded lessons on geology and siege weaponry with gleeful reveling in the fact that they called their project art and got a grant to create it. The writing strains for humor and charm but rarely gets there. Lesson learned: Some books really are as goofy as they sound.
On a whim, Jim Paul and his friend Harry decide to build a functioning, life-size catapult that will shoot real rocks. This is the odd, funny and sneakily profound story of their experience, interspersed with an eclectic history of weaponry, including a thorough coverage of the catapult's role in military history, but also touching on other lethal weapons such as the atomic bomb. Paul is a good writer, clearly describing the engineering hurdles they had to overcome with a grant for only $500, and some the interpersonal dynamics between him and Harry, a mechanic who was able to solve most of these problems to construct what turned out to be a quite powerful medieval siege weapon. They tested it on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and came close to bombarding a nudist beach in the process.
Paul's writing is vivid, charming and very candid. He does what the best writers do: he invites you into his world and makes the reader participate in the evolution of the story, from a joke told over the telephone to a 90-pound rock-throwing machine made of wood and steel.
My only complaint is that, although there are numerous illustrations, he does not include a detailed photo of the final product. After reading a whole book about it, I would like to have seen it.
This book has just been re-issued. It was originally published in 1991.
I remember seeing a few reviews of it and thinking that it was something I would probably enjoy, but I never saw it in a store, and there was no Amazon back then. I have half kept my eye opened for a used copy since then, but I never saw it. I was happy to see it re-issued.
My hunch was correct, I enjoyed it immensely.
Jim Paul, a writer and poet in San Francisco, decides that he wants to build a catapult to throw large boulders off of a cliff into the Pacific Ocean. He recruits his reluctant friend Harry into the project, and he manages to get a $500 grant from an art foundation to cover his costs. Harry has the technical skills needed. He can design. He can weld. He knows how to work with metal I-beams. Paul has the enthusiasm. He can also deal with bureaucrats and do heavy lifting.
Paul is a storyteller. They have to make the rounds of metal scrap yards and fabricating shops. The people running these shops tend towards the eccentric. Paul enjoys giving the details. There is no set of plans for a medieval catapult. They need to work off of drawings they find in scholarly works and try to retro-design using modern materials. He starts his research into metal springs by reviewing the definition of "spring" in the Oxford English Dictionary. It leads to a fascinating visit to a spring store.
Paul also drops in historical chapters on battles where catapults played a part. For example, England's King Edward II build a huge catapult, named "The Warwolf" for use in subduing the Scots. He was so proud of it that he refused to let them surrender their fortress until he had a chance to knock it down with this catapult. Paul has a very interesting story about the history of steel making. He traces it from early man using meteorites as the strongest metal on earth to the steel blast furnaces of today in nine fascinating pages.
He weaves the background stuff into the very practical problems they face. Money runs tight. A baby won't stop crying. They get hassled by the police when they try to test it. They get bewildered questions when they try to explain what they are doing a dinner party.Paul does a good job explaining how you need to build a catapult. He also gets across how difficult it is. It never occurred to me that it is also very dangerous. He explains how a catapult ready to fire is controlling a massive amount of energy which can cause havoc if it is not properly controlled.
He also enjoys rambling down digressions. He is at a Chinese restaurant and becomes fixated on what life is like for the catfish in the live seafood tank. He sees an old-fashioned pin-up magazine on the table of the break room in a sheet metal shop and discovers the story behind it.
In his short introduction to this reissuance Paul mentions that he and Harry did this project in an analog world. They drove to a library to research catapults. They drove to stores to see what they had in stock. Their encounters with people were face to face. They found their way by maps. I enjoyed the nostalgia. I would not have had it, if I read the book when it was published.
The book is written in a calm, matter of fact tone, as if this is the most ordinary type of project to undertake on a whim. It is great fun.
First impression was of a dilettante working out of his place. A bit of a poseur. I do not buy that the idea to build a catapult was spontaneously come by for example. The author's "just one of the boy's facade" is undercut by his apparent born to the manor attitude and his lack of a real job, unlike the contrast that he makes with Harry's life. Also put off by his cavalier willingness to remove rocks/minerals from national parks and such (around the world) and brag about it (I have always been under the impression that it was a federal offense to do take souvenirs from these sites). And, being OK with breaking rules that got in the way of his amusement. In the end the success of his project is accomplished when he purposefully ignores the promises he made to gain permits and grants for the work (not to actually launch rock missiles). As he sums it up: I had fun. All this being said, the middle 80% of the book is "fun." A very boyish tale of hardware, big heavy parts, design, dark industrial shops and ad hoc solutions that would appeal to anyone who has tackled such a mechanical problem. It is a real nice alternative to "programming" and the internet and fantasy electronic games. Intermixed with the journey are more or less relevant digressions. These segues are fun and generally obscure histories of things sorta relative to the weapon under construction. In the end, the presentation of this "art" is appropriately recounted as being clumsy and without effect on the audience. So better the book which does not pretend to artsy sophistication.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A New York Times review in January tipped me off to a newly reissued paperback of this odd early 1990s book—otherwise hard to find (no Kindle, no audiobook, not in my library). I tracked down a used hardcover, which somehow feels exactly right for a story about two guys scrounging junkyards to build a medieval siege weapon.
The intellectual author recruits his handyman friend, Harry, to build a DIY catapult. He secures a bit of grant money, calling it a conceptual art project in which they’ll “observe the process”, and “explore the history of catapults.” But really it’s all about fun, which W.H. Auden declared to be the best reason to do anything.
At its core, this is a buddy book. Jim and Harry argue about money, time, priorities—who gets to do what, when—and periodically drive each other nuts. But they keep going. They make things, break things, and keep going. There’s a lot of joy in that. It reminded me of how rare—and valuable—it is for us grown men to bond over a shared project that’s not work, obligation, nor organized by spouses.
There are some skippable side paths, and oddly, no photos of the finished machine. But the historical sketches are fun, and the spirit of the thing carries it. This could be a perfect wildcard pick for a men’s book club.
I am sure the title is what originally caused me to put this on my to-read list but the actual book wasn't exactly what I thought it would be. For much of the book the more accurate title would have been `Harry and I Avoid Building a Siege Weapon' & I found it disappointing that with the various illustrations of catapults & other weapons throughout the book, there is no illustration of the actual finished catapult other than a poorly rendered photo in which everything is just black lumps. Other than that, once you get used to Paul's weird jumping around from his project to weapon history to personal history, it isn't a bad read & has some quite amusing bits. Although he claims to have decided to do all of this on a whim it is pretty obvious that he had decided to write about it if not from the beginning then quite soon in the process which makes Harry's concerns about coming off as an Igor a more realistic issue given how willing Paul is to lie to others about what he is doing - an interesting undertone to the narrative
I will say that the book is well written and the plot somewhat intriguing, mainly as a character study. I could definitely picture the areas he was describing and what they were up to. That being said, every couple chapters he goes into a long historical digression which, while interesting, really kind of comes off as filler, like he really was just trying to expand the manuscript beyond just a very basic story that would have been half the amount of pages. I imagine the story of building the catapult much like the writing of this book. Pulling a bit of this here and a bit of that there to cobble together a story about a man acting on a whim.
Dull and tedious, and somewhat vague as to the actual process of catapult design. (Photos or sketches would have been a welcome addition.) Since the project was funded as art, the eccentricities and pretensions of artists are overwhelming and annoyingly present. In their final analysis of their discovery of a "catapult consciousness," the best Paul can come with with was that he had fun, which he couldn't admit to his funders as a serious result. I'I not sure if Paul was trying to be high-minded or tell a fun story about a wonky, curious project, but I think he missed his mark.
I read this book because Tom Hanks said I should ... At some point someone implied that this would be witty and quirky and fun - it isn't any of these ... The characters are uninteresting, the interaction between them is boring ... Most of the book is about ancient wars and societies and once-upon-a-time stories about catapults and who invented steel ... Anyway, I failed completely at picking a book, but if I can save just one other reader from a similar fate, then my personal pain will have been worth it
Classic. I realize that this book or even this kind of book isn’t for everyone. I was enthralled with the build and the search for parts and people to help in a time before the internet. Made me kind of nostalgic. The history parts were good too. The only gripe I have is that at the end neither Jim nor Harry seemed to admit any joy from the process. Harry, clearly a cynic, I could understand but Jim seemed to believe that it was a lark, a joke, or maybe he couldn’t find any meaning. I’ll take my own meaning from it. A lovely book. Kind of old fashioned in the best way possible.
It's a great book. Originally printed in 1991 and brought out again, now, when we all need to believe in something, something grand, something human, something about possibility. This is a book for minds that are curious, that will follow, just to see what wonder is about to be revealed.
I just read the chapter on Oppenheimer building the bomb. and how he and the other creators couldn't verbalize what they'd seen and experienced and after the war "got his head shot off when he went to congress and tried." His younger brother Frank heads the next chapter. "He had less fame to shield him." And if you're a West Coast person you'll be stunned to know how this younger theoretical physicist created the Exploratorium.
It's a book about many things, and how we create them, observe them, and struggle with them. I am trying to read it slowly. It's one of those books you know at the time you're going to be rereading many times over the years. Especially in times when your humanity needs bolstering.
I read this back in the late 90s or early oughties. It's a book about a couple guys who got an art grant to build a catapult. It has some great history on siege engines, what they were (a catapult is probably not what you think it is) and how they worked. And it has some really fun stuff about the relationship between the two guys who made it. Really enjoyable.
It’s like these books are made in a factory - some journalist has something novel in their life, they have an unwilling but capable friend and through zany adventures they achieve their dream, but of course have to fill the space with random history and stuff they’ve put in for facts. Maybe this was the first of the genre since it was from 1980 nevertheless I’m sick of the formula
This early 90s "project memoir" is thoughtful, wry, sly, and so much fun. Chapters alternate between Harry and Jim building a catapult and overviews of manly things like historical weapons, the atomic bond, and bonding itself. Truly unique and exceptionally well-written. My 2026 reboot copy from Tivoli Press, however, was not well-edited. I found 3 typos - how many did you see?
The NYT had a quirky review of this 35 year old book a few months ago, and it sounded fun. And it is. Sort of! These two guys on their pre-internet quest to build a catapult are kind of marginally interesting, but in the end there just wasn't enough there there to support an entire book. Not sure why the Times found it so enchanting. I rate it "not bad."
I think this is the kind of book you write when you feel you have something to say, but you don't know what that something is. Loosely connecting life impressions with a contrived goal leads to little insight about process or product.
A great story about two friends who build something together, littered with small bits of history and etc. Many truly dynamic characters and scenes in a straightforward story. Reminds me a little of The Big Lebowsky.
A humorous but still deeply profound reflection on the fundamental masculine urge to throw a big rock really far, Jim Paul expertly weaves the lives of historical geniuses from Archimedes to Oppenheimer into his own escapades to construct a catapult.
This review will have 'spoilers', but not for Jim and Harry's progress on building the catapult, or anything of that nature, just the kind of catapult they chose to build and the history that is worked through the book.
I read about this book several years ago, and, especially as someone who loves the eras of history during which a catapult was the height of war technology, I thought it sounded interesting.
Honestly, I had thought that it would be along the lines of several projects I had followed with interest before - about attempting to recreate some piece of ancient technology or feat of building. It wasn't, but I didn't let that stop me from getting into the book.
The book itself is a bit odd, though perhaps I should have expected that from a book with this title and premise.
I had expected them to build a traditional catapult, from the title, which is what they did. I did not expect such a bit of a run-down on other varieties, including some incorrect imprecations on the trebuchet - which is not, as the book suggested, simply a variety of catapult, but a different type of weapon entirely.
There were some discussions about different interpretations of catapults, say, that different cultures used, and for various reasons, which was compelling, particularly viewed through the lens of Harry's mechanical background.
The pieces of history woven through the story of their own catapult are interesting, and largely to do with the catapult's importance through different wars. I did read with a grain of salt, however, as at least two of the accounts I read in the book said things I know from my other research to be untrue. I assumed that perhaps history had made some further stretches since this was published, as it was over twenty years ago.
In fact, I had assumed that the history in the book would exclusively have to do with catapults, in some way. Because of this, coming into a discussion of atomic bombs was somewhat startling, and not a little off-putting - and the rather graphic descriptions of the effects of the atomic bombs when utilised were . . . well, I'm sure you can imagine.
The things that were written about the bombs were largely discussing the process of inventing them, and scientists themselves. There were some very interesting things I hadn't known about some of the scientists' lives and work after the project was disbanded, even, which I was intrigued by, though surprised to find in the midst of this particular narrative.
Nevertheless, though I might not have appreciated the shock of some of the history included, I was happy to have some context included along the process of the expected narrative - it also helped to liven up some parts that were, by necessity, a bit dull.
When I reached the end of the book, it felt a little lacking in some way, perhaps because I had gotten too involved in the project, and the way the book sort of tapered of was not quite the ending I had envisioned or hoped for. Perhaps I'm simply too used to reading fiction, and reality doesn't quite compare. I can't say.
The interactions and dynamic between the two friends on the subject of the catapult were engaging, and occasionally nearing on painful - because it is so easy to empathise with them, and the strain that such a project put upon them and their friendship.
All in all, it was a good, though not enthralling, book. I would recommend it more to people who are interested in the modern mechanics of things than the past application of historical mechanisms.
If I could, I would give this book 3.5 stars. I really enjoyed the historical and scientific information about catapults and siege weapons, and the memoir bits were often really funny. These kinds of books, microhistories, where the history of the world can be viewed through the lens of one small element, are always enjoyable for me. I always walk away with new information and increased curiosity. In this case, I learned a bit about Frank Oppenheimer, the lesser known Communist younger brother of Robert Oppenheimer. What a fascinating guy, and what a perfect view of science and learning. I'd like to read more about him.
In the end, I couldn't give this book four stars because the ending felt so abrupt and kind of unsatisfying. But everything up until the final two chapters was tons of fun for science dilettantes like me.
So far a really fun book--which is not something I ever thought I'd say about a memoir of two men building a seige weapon. Great wry, commentary on conceptual art, the art of war, our fascination with machines, how machines, especially war machines, have shaped history, and on what it is to be a modern male, father, friend and writer. Love the self deprecating voice and the flow of the prose--no clunkers yet. Every time he's at a salvage yard or welder shop and completely out of his element, it's a hoot. Reminds me a bit of Bill Bryson's work but more thoughtful and understated and less slapsticky.
It even makes me want to put on a welder's mask--and I haven't felt that way since Flashdance.
One of the worst books I have ever read. Both builders are immature idiots and are utterly unlikable. These petulant children have no idea what is required to take on a long term project and the building nearly destroys their friendship.
P.S. i hope you aren't looking for a decent picture of the catapult or any hard information concerning its throwing ability. Luckily he does talk about trout and an awkward nude beach for a few pages.
Readability 6. Rating 6. Eclectic seems too mild, but this was certainly an interesting effort. Paul comes across as a reasonably likable Bay Area flake who can write, and chooses to tell the story of how he and a friend end up building a catapult. For good measure, we get some odd Bay Area history, some personal revelations, and bits on siege warfare. Since it was well written, it works, but it could have used either more substance or greater profundity.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.