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A review by jonas47073
1421: The Year China Discovered America by Gavin Menzies
1.0
For anyone attempting to learn history or just trying to find that perfect gift for the iconoclast in his or her life, this book will not suffice. The arguments are irrational: sometimes specious, sometimes spurious. He makes reference to myriad sources, but on closer inspection many are cherry-picked or of questionable value.
However, as a character study, this book may well be worth your time. It is a story of a submarine captain so enthralled with the sex customs of the Orient that he devotes his retirement to piecing together a web of stories. At some point this obsession consumes him and like a paranoid schizophrenic he starts seeing the Chinese everywhere and behind everything. He hopes that by writing he can exorcise his demons thereby regaining some inkling of rational thought. Alas, this is not the case as we pulled along through increasingly specious and fanciful notions of what constitutes historical evidence.
The book begins with a walk through the well-trodden history of imperial China with a special emphasis on prostitutes, foreskin beads, and eunuchs. I can only hope that this part of the book is accurate. While the early chapters are quite developed his knowledge of Chinese history as a whole can only be described as skin deep.
The initial chapters about the voyages to India and East Africa seem reasonable enough, but at some point we are subjected to claims that nearly every rock or architectural curiosity on the Eastern Seaboard is Chinese in origin. These claims lack any real evidence. Often a quick Internet search will give much more plausible explanations.
In the end he claims the Chinese are responsible for almost everything, but the Renaissance. Oh wait… that’s the sequel!
However, as a character study, this book may well be worth your time. It is a story of a submarine captain so enthralled with the sex customs of the Orient that he devotes his retirement to piecing together a web of stories. At some point this obsession consumes him and like a paranoid schizophrenic he starts seeing the Chinese everywhere and behind everything. He hopes that by writing he can exorcise his demons thereby regaining some inkling of rational thought. Alas, this is not the case as we pulled along through increasingly specious and fanciful notions of what constitutes historical evidence.
The book begins with a walk through the well-trodden history of imperial China with a special emphasis on prostitutes, foreskin beads, and eunuchs. I can only hope that this part of the book is accurate. While the early chapters are quite developed his knowledge of Chinese history as a whole can only be described as skin deep.
The initial chapters about the voyages to India and East Africa seem reasonable enough, but at some point we are subjected to claims that nearly every rock or architectural curiosity on the Eastern Seaboard is Chinese in origin. These claims lack any real evidence. Often a quick Internet search will give much more plausible explanations.
In the end he claims the Chinese are responsible for almost everything, but the Renaissance. Oh wait… that’s the sequel!