A magnificent piece of scholarship, Gosden delving back into the dawn of humanity and then following his subject right through to the modern day, offering pointers for further reading while still packing in more than enough to leave the reader feeling informed, going on glutted. Often, my reviews of non-fiction can end up a little too full of fascinating facts, but not here, because there are simply too damn many. If the subject seems niche, well, as the introduction points out, the modern world's veneer of rationality is pretty bloody thin, not just in terms of what people allegedly believe, but in terms of how they behave: he quotes swearing at the printer as a pretty solid example, though I reckon swearing at apps might be an even stronger case, given a printer is at least physically present. Certainly either is a better choice than his other example, talking to cats, which if it does not convey information is at least companionable, and let's face it, the same goes for much human-human conversation. That's a rare and marginal mis-step, though. Crucially, after generations of the likes of EB Tylor and James Frazer, who talked in terms of a gradual movement from magic to religion to science, he talks in terms of "the triple helix of magic, religion and science", one thing which has separated out over the centuries, but has much more of a shared history than its two junior strands would admit. After all, "magic is a basic part of being human as far back as we have looked. We can see no easy origin to magic, because it has always been with us" – a matter of making sense of the world as much as trying to improve one's odds in practical terms. Now, I confess, I do slightly prefer Alan Moore's take on this, magic as the long-suffering parent trying to get squabbling offspring science and religion to behave, and for me Moore looms over the whole project even beyond his normal knack for looming. I nearly didn't request Magic from Netgalley because, apart from anything else, I assumed a lot of it would overlap with the historical sections of Moore's long-promised Bumper Book Of Magic. But even after the appallingly long time I've taken reading this, the other remains forthcoming – and I suspect even once it does hit, this will remain useful as a somewhat more respectable complement, one you can mention in polite circles on account of the author being a professor at Oxford, and not having actually declared himself a wizard. Either way, in the meantime it's so refreshing to read an account of the topic which doesn't make the assumptions either of a devoted believer, or of a Keith Thomas – and was I the only one who found it slightly inexplicable that anyone would write a book as monumental as Religion And The Decline Of Magic about a topic they took it as read was nonsense? Gosden, on the other hand, takes what's normally the best approach; he follows Ken Campbell, and supposes. Now, in a sense I disagree with his founding principles here, because if you ask whether the human race is really so stupid as to spend its entire history doing something which is no use whatsoever, then I'd reply that recent evidence suggests yes, we absolutely are. But at the very least, 'what if the entire species aren't utter morons?' feels like an interesting and potentially productive counterfactual.
Not that the book only stands out against other writing specifically on magic. Just in terms of big-picture history and non-fiction, compare and contrast a statement like "To say a group is animist is the start of a description, not its end" with the sort of broad-brush bullshit so lucratively peddled by charlatans like Harari. At the same time, it's never so hedged around as to end up barely saying anything. Gosden is apologetic to a fault about the areas and eras where he's not so expert (most notably, India), but the overwhelming impression is that he knows a quite astounding amount about huge sweeps of human culture and history. "Ojibwe people in North America make a linguistic distinction between animate and inanimate nouns, and for them rocks fall into the animate category, being able to move on their own and follow some form of rocky intention." Or "sorcery is found throughout coastal Papua New Guinea but is absent from New Guinea Highland cultures, a division that is widely recognized but poorly understood". Bringing it closer to home, he has the numbers on who believes what in the modern West, in which it's tempting but tough to find patterns: more Britons (27%) than Americans (21%) think communication with the dead is possible – but 21% in the US believe in witches, to only 13% in the UK. Meanwhile, on both counts the French are more sceptical, but over half of them believe in 'magnetic healing', which is the one I find really risible. And where this could have so easily tipped into some Casaubon exercise in occult stamp collecting, Gosden can keep on top of the whole equation, the sheer scale of his subject, which leads to remarkable but justifiable theses. So it's not just in the sense that the vast majority of human time on earth was the Paleolithic (although it was, and that's also relevant) that he can talk about "shamans as relatively recent figures" – it turns out that hiving off what had been a regular part of life in those cultures to one specialist was
in part a reaction against incoming imperialist cultures, which as is so often the way, ended up taking on some of the structure of the enemy. The notion that people in other times and places approached the fundamentals of life more differently than we can readily conceive, given the assumptions within which we start, is a recurring motif. Occasionally to a fault: when Gosden says "It is important to recognize that for a long time organized religion was found only in a small area of the globe: that area between the central Mediterranean and South Asia. It is only in the last two millennia that religions such as Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism and Islam have spread"...well, yes, it's a useful corrective to the assumptions even of people who think they're being open-minded in terms of comparative religions by looking at the big six we used to get in RE lessons, but it doesn't feel like it entirely takes the Aztecs into account, whose religion was both home-grown, and sufficiently organised to need a whole military machine to keep feeding its corpse-grinder. Once we get to South America, he clarifies that Olmec and then Aztec gods are "better seen as sets of tendencies or powers rather than as clearly defined deities", but I'm not sure I fully buy the distinction. Do we need to know anecdotes about gods before they count as gods? Might those not just be lost, like so much Norse myth? And even if not, couldn't you say the same about many pantheons, even Rome's before they merged with the Olympians?
Still, it should be reiterated that such quibbles were very rare compared to the volume of solid information and interpretation. Any assumption that the whole notion of divination was always founded on the strategic vagueness of cold reading doesn't last long: "Predictions range from the bog standard 'Good fortune' to the more mysterious and highly specific 'You will be interested in the Navy.'" And the further back we go, while the evidence obviously becomes more and more patchy and open to multiple readings, the more truly strange the conceptions of the world become. The lion person, the earliest known surviving totem, has been the subject of much debate about sex, and may even have had a detachable penis; obviously I love the idea of one of the oldest surviving traces of human culture involving a strap-on. But from this distance we don't even know whether they saw species as distinct in the way we currently do, or people as separate from the landscape, or whether the underground was seen as the same world as the surface. In Kfar HaHoresh, multiple gazelle and human skeletons have been made into a composite skeleton of something else, perhaps a boar; I suppose you could argue that might be art not magic, but the obvious rejoinder would be, what's the difference? Certainly the long catalogue of plastered skulls and human bones found in ones or twos, suggesting bodies were gradually dispersed by the living ("it might mean that a whole human body was too important to bury at once") are testament to a very different treatment of death than anything with which squeamish moderns would be comfortable. And amidst this whole mad panoply, the line which for me echoes the most is one discussing the relationship between the Mesolithic people of the Danube and fish, "their most significant other and therefore possibly not other at all". Granted, the final chapter, "Modern and Future Magic", can feel a bit scrappy and scattershot compared to what's gone before, but isn't that so often the way when these big histories run smack bang into a present that doesn't know what it's doing itself yet, and have to wrap up without a neat endpoint available, only a series of uncertain gestures? Though I suppose if it turns out Gosden has called it right, that will do a lot to support his case elsewhere...