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Mythos and Cosmos: Mind and Meaning in the Oral Age
A bold new approach to myth studies, " Mythos and Cosmos " reexamines ancient myth through the template of oral thinking and oral cosmology. Contradicting decades of assumptions about the purpose and function of ancient mythology, Lundwall defines myth as "the oral imprinting press of pre-literate peoples" and shows that myth belongs to a complex and rational method of information transmission amongst oral peoples. Further, ancient mythology belonged to a cultus which incorporated ritual and symbol in a cosmological system which sought to found the sacred world. Where this work really shines is in its discussion of how ancient oral peoples saw their universe. Oral cosmology is far more complex than the simple "flat-earth" models discussed in current textbooks. Such myth cycles as the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Labors of Heracles, and the story of the Great Flood are seen completely differently when viewed from within ancient cosmological thought. Many strange features of ancient culture, such as the dancing chorus in Greek theater, are explained in rational and revolutionary ways. The pyramids, ziggurats, and megalithic-henges are also seen in a new light. While academic, the book is written for a general audience. It is a fascinating exploration in ancient history, comparative myth and religious studies, and the ancient mind.
- GenresMythology
408 pages, Paperback
Published October 17, 2015
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
January 31, 2018
DDown with social Darwinism and the Torah was complied late date
Should be honest about it's underlining argument for a later compiling of the Torah. Interesting read though if one is willing to be open to ideas of a intelligent past.
Should be honest about it's underlining argument for a later compiling of the Torah. Interesting read though if one is willing to be open to ideas of a intelligent past.
November 13, 2025
Absolutely essential reading for anyone interested in learning about the ancient world.
February 23, 2016
From the savanna of Africa, the jungles of India, to the steppes of Eurasia, to the mountains of the South America, the plains of North America, even the islands of the Pacific, every human culture we have encountered is a story-telling culture. Through stories, through myths, our forebears have attempted to explain the universe and our relationship to our fellow man.
Even today, with the appeal of such books (& movies) as Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, we see that stories with mythic elements and themes still call to us, still draw us in. Hollywood has retold stories from ancient Greece numerous times on the silver screen, with Lionsgate about to release a movie based on the gods of Egypt.
And yet we are reasonably certain that the stories that have come down to us, the narratives recorded on stone, papyrus and paper are only a fraction of the stories our ancestors told. For countless centuries, for millennia even, our forebears shared myths by telling them—and sometimes even dancing them. They didn’t read, they didn’t write. They talked, they listened. They moved.
No wonder that Dr. John Lundwall writes in his study, Mythos and Cosmos: Mind and Meaning in the Oral Age that we know so little. In the course of this thoughtful book—and aware of the irony of his task—this scholar looks at the limited written record we do have in an attempt to understand these voices we can no longer hear.
He believes that “ancient categories of knowledge and ancient capacities of knowing are far more complex and familiar than has been assumed by ancient scholars.” These storytellers, their mythmakers were not ignorant rubes, but were curious, skeptical and intelligent men and women like us, merely using the resources available to them to make sense of the mysterious world around them.
Lundwall is well aware of the difficulty of his task. As he concedes that the “emergence of writing has had more impact on human culture and civilization than anything ever produced by the mind of the species,” he reminds us that Egyptian “hieroglyphs could be read in multiple ways—alphabetically, ideographically, figuratively and symbolically.”
He goes on to consider how literacy changed our ways of knowing, wondering if “an increase in the output of old texts contributed to the formulation of new theories.”
From the texts he has, he realizes how our forebears very often crafted their symbols and developed their rites by looking to the stars. So omnipresent are cosmological themes in cultures across the globe that he has become “certain that celestial phenomena [are] the primary reservoir of oral cognition.”
Indeed, in his studies of temple architecture, he finds relationships between the layout of these sacred shrines and the movements of the sun, moon, stars and planets.
Finally, he provides a good dose of myth too, interspersing his narrative with descriptions of ritual and details from surviving stories. In the last third of the book, he studies one of the oldest such tales, that of the legendary (and perhaps also historical) Mesopotamian king Gilgamesh as well as the labors of the most popular (as best we can gather) Greek hero, Heracles and even some stories from the Hebrew Scriptures.
Through it all—and with a healthy dose of skepticism—he helps us understand what we can never really know, how and why our ancestors came to tell the stories they did, enact the rituals they performed and design the structures that they built. It is the questions he asks that keeps us turning the pages (and even writing in them as we offer some of our own observations).
This book gives us tools to help us better appreciate the ancient myths that do survive.
And that is what makes this a good book—and well worth your while. As we delight in the stories that our forebears told to explain the world, stories that we still read and retell today, he helps increase our sense of wonder.
Even today, with the appeal of such books (& movies) as Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, we see that stories with mythic elements and themes still call to us, still draw us in. Hollywood has retold stories from ancient Greece numerous times on the silver screen, with Lionsgate about to release a movie based on the gods of Egypt.
And yet we are reasonably certain that the stories that have come down to us, the narratives recorded on stone, papyrus and paper are only a fraction of the stories our ancestors told. For countless centuries, for millennia even, our forebears shared myths by telling them—and sometimes even dancing them. They didn’t read, they didn’t write. They talked, they listened. They moved.
No wonder that Dr. John Lundwall writes in his study, Mythos and Cosmos: Mind and Meaning in the Oral Age that we know so little. In the course of this thoughtful book—and aware of the irony of his task—this scholar looks at the limited written record we do have in an attempt to understand these voices we can no longer hear.
He believes that “ancient categories of knowledge and ancient capacities of knowing are far more complex and familiar than has been assumed by ancient scholars.” These storytellers, their mythmakers were not ignorant rubes, but were curious, skeptical and intelligent men and women like us, merely using the resources available to them to make sense of the mysterious world around them.
Lundwall is well aware of the difficulty of his task. As he concedes that the “emergence of writing has had more impact on human culture and civilization than anything ever produced by the mind of the species,” he reminds us that Egyptian “hieroglyphs could be read in multiple ways—alphabetically, ideographically, figuratively and symbolically.”
He goes on to consider how literacy changed our ways of knowing, wondering if “an increase in the output of old texts contributed to the formulation of new theories.”
From the texts he has, he realizes how our forebears very often crafted their symbols and developed their rites by looking to the stars. So omnipresent are cosmological themes in cultures across the globe that he has become “certain that celestial phenomena [are] the primary reservoir of oral cognition.”
Indeed, in his studies of temple architecture, he finds relationships between the layout of these sacred shrines and the movements of the sun, moon, stars and planets.
Finally, he provides a good dose of myth too, interspersing his narrative with descriptions of ritual and details from surviving stories. In the last third of the book, he studies one of the oldest such tales, that of the legendary (and perhaps also historical) Mesopotamian king Gilgamesh as well as the labors of the most popular (as best we can gather) Greek hero, Heracles and even some stories from the Hebrew Scriptures.
Through it all—and with a healthy dose of skepticism—he helps us understand what we can never really know, how and why our ancestors came to tell the stories they did, enact the rituals they performed and design the structures that they built. It is the questions he asks that keeps us turning the pages (and even writing in them as we offer some of our own observations).
This book gives us tools to help us better appreciate the ancient myths that do survive.
And that is what makes this a good book—and well worth your while. As we delight in the stories that our forebears told to explain the world, stories that we still read and retell today, he helps increase our sense of wonder.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews