By the author of L'an mil and other great books on marriage + love in the middle ages.
Wonderful, deliberately dry book about Duby's beginning as an historian and a medievalist, which begins with very slow, almost intentionally off-putting material about finding one's subject, "the Thesis," passing hurdles in the French academic system, etc. He was an Annales adherent, but there is little about the glamour-he came of age during the Occupation, and he begs the reader's understanding that while Marc Bloch got all the gloire, his colleague Lucien Febvre
"lately has been receiving rather bad press. People who don't know what it took to hold firm and not give in while France was under the heel of the Germans have been criticising him for his determination to keep the Annales in print during the occupation." This took some courage to say in 1994, when Duby wrote this.
Another memorable passage- about how his travels to North Africa and later to Iran, Central America and East Asia taught him what he had been writing about in medieval history. He learned what portus and mercatus meant in the 9th century capitularies by watching how sheep were sold in Ghardaia; understood the function of money in 11th century Europe by passing thru the rows of beggars and money-changers in Benares. "I visited more than one Carolingian village on the outskirts of Xi-Han and in the plain of the Ganges."
"On another day, in one of the meager olive groves that dot the wadi which runs from Foum-Zguid down toward the Draa, I shook the hand of a slave. He was digging in the sun. Seated in his shadow, his master kept an eye on him. He scarcely touched the baksheesh we gave him for heloing to change a wheel..his master pocketed the money. It was the year 1000 and I was speaking to Aleume, servus of Cluny, and to Achard de Merze', knight, and the only sentiment I could detact was a rather cordial understanding between the two men, who stood in a hierarchical relationship to each other that for them required no explanation."
This must go back to the library-one of those books that I wish I could keep on my desk forever not to look up references or formulations but like the bust of a great author, as a touchstone. (I do have a bust of Borges, but it is so ugly that he looks sightlessly out the window, away from me.)