After eating my fill of audio drama podcasts while putting together my Nine Worlds rec list this summer, autumn and winter found me in more of a non-fiction mood. I picked up a handful of new (to me) queer history podcasts in the last few months (podcast backlogs having the unfortunate habit of running out, forcing the listener to find more or wait), so I thought I’d write up a list of my current favourites. You know, in case you need some help researching the queer fanfiction you’re gonna write me after last week’s post, because you love me. 😘„Queer/LGBTQ+ History podcasts“ weiterlesen
It’s been a busy, um… year and a bit, and my blogging habit has fallen over a little bit, but hey guess what: I still have opinions about museums! A little while ago, I visited a really cool museum in Lübeck, the Hansemuseum.
I was predisposed to like this museum, since I’m from Hamburg, a proud Hanseatic city, and since historical economics and trade is my favourite academic interest. But even with my biases, I think this was a very well designed museum.
A video of me using my ticket to activate a display screen with the German version of its content.
First of all, it had a lot of cool digital toys. The tickets come with a RFID chip, which allows you to select a language at the beginning of the exhibition, and then change many of the screen displays to that language with a touch. Other displays simply repeated the same information in several languages, but I thought the customisable screens were a very clever idea to save space, and also engage visitors.
There were also a lot of infographics. The infographic was a major method of information delivery in most of the rooms. As a very visual person, who gets tired and distracted standing around reading large blocks of dry text on walls, I found this a very effective and pleasing way to absorb the information. Colours, images, and symbols make learning a more pleasant experience.
You might notice that all but one of the images so far have shown light text on a dark background. This is part of the last aspect of the museum that really pleased me. The exhibition was divided into two kinds of rooms. The light on a dark background rooms presented interpretation: concepts, narrative, and reproductions.
These rooms were interspersed with lighter rooms, characterised by dark text on light background, and displays of actual artefacts.
To me, these functioned like an evidence section to the claims made in the darker rooms. Of course, by their very nature they still present interpretation, but I like the break between the two different kinds of information and presentation. Unfortunately they suffer from the problem traditional museum rooms often have, that it’s difficult to tell which order to look at things in to cross the room without missing anything. But overall it’s effective!
If you’re ever in Lübeck, I definitely recommend looking into the museum. Although if you have mobility access needs, maybe check in with them first.
A thousand apologies for the delay, here finally is the last part of my Nine Worlds Fantasy Archaeology talk.
Humans are boring, time to talk about dwarves and orcs.
The basic history of Khazad-dûm, the Mines of Moria, is probably familiar to you from The Lord of the Rings: An underground city, carved out of the Misty Mountains by dwarves, lost when they awakened a Blarog, site of a war between dwarves and orcs, and later traversed by the Fellowship of the Ring, leading to the destruction of the Balrog by Gandalf. It seems like the city’s earliest form was a collection of natural caves above the lake Kheled-zâram, the Mirrormere. According to the legend recounted in the appendices, he founder of the city of Khazad-dûm is Durin I, known also as Durin the Deathless, the first dwarf to be awoken on Middle Earth, and, although we don’t have anything written directly by dwarves to confirm this, they apparently believed he was reincarnated several times to rule the city again. We don’t know a lot about the city, but it was apparently well-populated and well-defended, until the unfortunate arrival of the Balrog in the 1990s of the Third Age.
After the dwarves abandon Khazad-dûm, it becomes known as Moria. Moria didn’t stay empty and abandoned for long though. While the dwarves were building settlements in Erbeor, orcs moved in to their old dwellings. Unfortunately, we know even less about them. From records of their war with the dwarves in 2970 of the Third Age, we know that they had a leader named Azog, who killed the dwarf Thrór, starting the war. The dwarves eventually won the battle, greatly diminishing the orc population, but were unable to resettle Moria as they couldn’t get rid of the Balrog. There was a short-lived settlement of dwarves led by Balin, which lasted from 2989 to 2994 of the Third Age before being defeated by orcs. It’s not entirely clear what happened after the War of the Ring, but there are some suggestions the dwarves finally resettled there.
Since we have so little information about dwarves, there are endless questions to ask of Khazad-dûm, although it’s also difficult to narrow them down into anything practical. Of course some of the missing knowledge could be found easily by seeking out some dwarves, or at least some dwarven records. I have a lot of logistical questions: how did dwarves grow food and rear animals? Dwarf Fortress style mushroom farms? The engineering of their ventilation and water systems is probably fascinating, as well.
The earliest occupation of the caves interests me. The First Hall near the entrance and the area around the Mirrormere would likely be the places to excavate for this, to start establishing a chronology. Perhaps it’d be possible to find traces of prehistoric dwarves and their technology. Did hunter-gatherer dwarves use the caves, perhaps on a seasonal basis? When did they begin to settle there, and how did they first modify the caves? How quickly did the settlement there expand, and in what ways? Is it an unbroken history of expansion, or were there changes in demographics and styles of living, when the population shrank or the caves stood empty? How did successive generations of dwarves use the architecture and spaces inherited from their ancestors? We could construct a history of dwarven architecture all the way back to the very first inhabitants, given enough time. Dwarven technology, too. When did they first invent the metal working techniques they are known for? How did their engineering and food production techniques change? How did they interact with other mountain inhabitants, orcs, maybe elves or humans, at such an early time?
Archaeology is stereotypically all about digging through the garbage of people long dead. After all, in most circumstances you’re not going to find something as it was when it was used, you’re going to find it after it’s been lost or put away on purpose. Now, I wonder, where did the dwarves of Khazad-dûm put their rubbish? Imagine some shaft filled with layers and layers of the detritus of dwarvish life. Imagine the things it could tell us about their diets, technology, and way of life.
Another interesting aspect to investigate is the dramatic abandonment of Moria after the Balrog and the period of orc settlement. In the chronology, we have a reference to Sauron “[populating] Moria with his creatures” around 2480, but that is about 500 years after dwarves flee from the Balrog. Did Moria stand empty for that time, or did some of the native orc population of the Misty Mountains settle there?
Orcs are always depicted to be dependent entirely on and moved around by the will of Sauron or another ruler but how accurate is this? Was the movement of orcs into Moria voluntary, or forced? How did they get along with any orcs that were already there, and how did their social structure work? How did they use or repurpose the things left behind by the fleeing dwarves? What was the relationship between orcs and dwarves like before this period?
These are all broad and vague questions, of course, but it’s difficult to ask more defined ones with the little information we have about the circumstances around Moria and the orcs in the Misty Mountains. If there were orcs living in the Misty Mountains prior to the Balrog’s emergence, which the sources do suggest, then perhaps they had interacted in a more peaceful way with at least some dwarves before the war. Or perhaps because the doors to Khazad-dûm were so often closed during the wars of the Second Age the orcs only became properly aware of the cave city as the dwarves left. If orcs are the evil Other that a lot of the people of Middle Earth define themselves against, then how did the orcs see the dwarves when they came to settle in their abandoned city?
And what about that Balrog, and their coexistence with it? Do we accept the Balrog as an evil creature that slept in the mountain and was awakened by the dwarves, or was it something else – some geological event that made the caves uninhabitable. Mining operations do seem to be vulnerable to that kind of thing.
To build up a picture of orc occupation in Moria I would begin not with an excavation but with a walking survey of the halls. We would choose a representative random sample of halls and other spaces. In each, we will catalogue the objects found. This way, we could get an image of where the incoming orcs settled, and how they used the spaces and objects of the dwarves.
There is an interesting hint to the orcs using dwarven technology in the account of Thrór, whose corpse is mutilated by the orcs, who brand Azog’s name into his face in dwarven runes. Of course we should be careful about how much credibility to give this; since this was literally an incident that started a war, it was no doubt subject to exaggeration and mythologizing. Nevertheless it would be interesting to see whether the orcs made use of dwarven technology and cultural items, and to what extent. Perhaps we could even get an indication of how they viewed the conflict between them and the dwarves.
It’s hard to make predictions about what we’ll find here, as we know so little to start out with. I would expect to find some tensions perhaps between the Misty Mountain and Mordor orcs, although they seem to have been unified against the dwarves. I have an image of orcs living near the entrances and leaving the deep halls and mines to the Balrog (whatever it is) and the relics of dwarf life. But perhaps I’m wrong and we’ll find them happily in the deepest, warmest spaces. The Mines of Moria have a long and a dense history, and anything we find is likely to be surprising, and more complicated and complex than it seems.
Something suitably monumental for our first site. Everyone should be at least visually familiar with the Argonath – those massive statues of the founders of Gondor on either side of the river Anduin that the Fellowship take their boats past. The context of its construction is buried in the depths of the appendices, though, so I’ll quickly explain.
The Argonath was constructed probably around year 1248 of the Third Age; that is about 1700 years before the War of the Ring. Gondor had been going through a period of expansion and prosperity, with its peak around the year 1050, but things were declining, and Gondorians were generally kind of anxious. This information, remember, all comes from the appendices of The Lord of the Rings. We don’t actually know their authorship, or when they were added to the story. Perhaps they were also collated by the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, who is credited as the author of the Silmarillion.
In any case, the appendices present a view of Gondor and the Númenóreans — that is, the ethnic group of Gondor, the ‚high humans‘ who spent some time with the elves — permanently on the brink of collapse:
“Yet the signs of decay had then [the beginning of the Third Age] already appeared; for the high men of the South married late, and their children were few.”
“Atanatar Alcarin [reign 1149- 1226] son of Hyarmendacil lived in great splendour, so that men said precious stones are pebbles in Gondor for children to play with. But Atanatar loved ease and did nothing to maintain the power that he had inherited, and his two sons were of like temper.”
Maybe the Gondorians were right to be so anxious; they did spend the entirety of the kingdom’s existence at war with their neighbours. Starting with the founding of Gondor, when they antagonised all the local humans by deforesting the countryside.
It was Rómendacil II, the grandson of that Atanatar in the quote above, who had the Argonath erected. He spent most of his time being anxious about one of those groups of local humans, the Northmen, and their relationship to Gondor’s enemy, the Easterlings (guess what relative compass directions all these people lived in). As far as the Gondorians were concerned, the Easterlings were under the influence of Sauron and a lost cause, but the Northmen were related to the bloodline of Númenór (from before they went to hang out with elves), and therefore it was acceptable to have an alliance with them. Additionally, they provided a handy buffer between Gondor and the Easterlings.
In 1248, Gondor caught wind of the Northmen allying with the Easterlings, and because they were anxious about that, they sent out an army to destroy Easterling settlements in the north. Rómendacil then fortified the river at the border, forbidding any ‘stranger’ to pass through them, and had the Argonath erected. At the same time, though, he took a lot of the Northmen into his army.
That’s about all we know, which leaves us with a lot of archaeological questions we can ask. First of all there’s the practical details of how the statues were even made. How long did it take to carve them out of the rock? Who worked on them, and how were those workers housed and fed? That last one is what I think is the one to follow up. I suspect that it took long enough to construct that a settlement sprung up around the area to house the workers and their families. If we excavated that, I believe we could find a lot of interesting things about life on the border of Gondor.
There are a lot of questions there about identity. We have the Gondorians, the Northmen, and the Easterlings. It’s clear from the written history that these are considered discrete categories by… well, presumably by the elves and the Númenóreans, but seeing as there were Easterling settlements in the north for Rómendacil to destroy, there may well have been some overlap. How did the Northmen and the Easterlings describe themselves? Were there smaller groups, or a larger category they saw themselves as a part of?
The Third Age was a period when most of the human cultures of Middle Earth were absorbed into the cultures of Gondor and Arnor (see this article by Lalaith of the Middle Earth Science pages), and we know from the appendices that Gondor was constantly at war with and suspicious of Mordor and their other neighbours. How did people on the border define themselves during all of this? Did they turn towards Gondorian culture, with its prosperity, or did they define themselves in opposition? And how did ordinary people of Gondor in their everyday lives relate to people in neighbouring regions?
These are all very broad questions that we can’t really answer just with stuff that we find, but we could try doing some comparisons to trace different cultural influences. With such a large building site on the border, we would probably find evidence from many different groups. There’d be the buildings themselves, the style and manner of their construction, and the differences in those through the site. Everyday items like clothing, tools, cooking and eating materials – food residues maybe – religious and personal items, toys or games. Maybe we’d find some written sources, evidence of the planning and organisation of the construction, letters, or graffiti on the monument itself by workers!
All of these could hint towards how the people working on the Argonath related to each other and negotiated their cultures. What did they wear, how did they make food, how did they engage with material from the north, the south, and the east? How did they use it to differentiate themselves from each other? We could compare what we find to settlements in the center of Gondor and in the north and east, if any are known. I imagine that the influences would be quite mixed. Food would presumably come from nearby, but perhaps the ways of preparing it would differ throughout the site. Organisation within the site could also be interesting. Perhaps one area kept to Gondorian styles, while others lived more like various kinds of Northmen and Easterlings. Or maybe there was a complete mix of influences, and the settlement was organised in a totally different way.
Lastly, I would look for some evidence of how people saw the monument they were constructing. Something like this would probably have been written about and depicted in other places. Who did it have the most impact on, the Northmen who it was trying to keep out, or the Gondorians it was reassuring? What about the impact it had on the surrounding countryside, in terms of population, agriculture, and so on.
That’s enough about humans for a bit. The second site we’re going to look at is Khazad-dûm, the Mines of Moria.
Tolkien’s Middle Earth is a good first stop to try out some fantasy archaeology. The Lord of the Rings is a well-known story, and on top of that a lot of supplementary historical information has made its way into our world. That gives us a lot of information to work with before we set out to the actual sites, but it comes with its own set of problems…
Let’s have a look at the historical written sources from Middle Earth that have reached us.
I’m assuming readers of this will all be basically familiar with story in The Lord of the Rings. This is the most recent account available to us from Middle Earth; a quest/travel account set during the War of the Ring, at the end of the time period known as the Third Age. In particular, it covers the years 3018-3019. The books give us a fairly good insight into the political events and some of the cultures during the war, albeit from the point of view of relatively uninformed outsiders. Interestingly, though, the last book of the series comes with appendices. We can assume that these were added in the course of the books translation into our world, to give readers a historical and cultural context. The Appendices contain chronologies of major events, genealogies, the broad histories of some of Middle Earth’s races and cultures, and linguistic notes.
There is a collection of other supplementary works about and from Middle Earth, too. Notably the Silmarillion, a collection of elven sagas (collated and written down by the hobbit Bilbo Baggins while living among elves), giving a mythological history of the origin of the elves and the Númenorean humans they allied with. There are also several shorter and fragmentary tales and bits of information (helpfully collected by Tolkien scholars and nerds into wikis, so people like yr humble author, who don’t have every single book, have it a little easier).
So: great! We’ll just take all these writings as our guide, and go exploring to fill in the gaps, right? Except, no. You can’t just go around trusting everything that’s been written down; just like you’d ask about the provenance and purpose of any object you find, you have to ask some questions about any writing you use. Like: who wrote it? Who was intended to read it, and what was their relationship to the author? And even, how come this particular piece of writing made it to you? Is it representative of the context it’s from, or is it just that the author was an official who wrote on fancy clay tablets while everyone else just scribbled things on strips of tree-bark or something?
All the information about Middle Earth reaches us through the same filter – elves, via hobbits (who are specifically noted to be unusual hobbits, partly through their association with elves.), via J.R.R. Tolkien. Everything we know comes from the elves, and it really shows. We only get what they found important, and their value judgement. The bulk of the information is about elves, their history and culture. Then we get a fair amount of information about humans, but only those humans who are allies of the elves, who are considered ‘good’ and ‘light’. The dark, evil, swarthy, [continue listing derogatory adjectives at will here] humans, who didn’t hang out with the elves, they get a couple of sentences here and there at most. Same with orcs and trolls. (Orcs, it says in the Silmarillion, were created specifically to be a mockery of elves. Elves, it seems, must make everything out to be about themselves at all times. Even entire other sentient species.) Dwarves get a little more neutral treatment, but not much info.
A few works have tried to address this imbalance. Kirill Yeskov’s The Last Ring-bearer (which you can read in English here) gives an account of the War of the Ring from the other side, evening the score a bit against all the unflattering writing of the elves. Here is its description of Barad-dûr, the ‚fortress of Sauron‘, for example:
“[…] Barad-dúr […], that amazing city of alchemists and poets, mechanics and astronomers, philosophers and physicians, the heart of the only civilization in Middle Earth to bet on rational knowledge and bravely pitch its barely adolescent technology against ancient magic.”
I also made a lot of use of the Middle Earth Science Pages which collect together a lot of scraps of information on the different human cultures into a more coherent form.
So, as we prepare for our expedition, it’s important to remember that the information we are basing our planning on is flawed in many ways. Perhaps once we get to Middle Earth the historians of its various cultures could help us get a fuller picture of its history. And we would have one huge advantage on the real world: if we go to collect an oral history, we might find people who have been alive for hundreds of years, and have lived through events that we would consider deep in the past. (Although they do tend to make everything about themselves.)
But for now, based on what information we do have I’ve picked out a few interesting sites. Next up: the Argonath.
Here we go, Fantasy Archaeology: the blog series!
At Nine Worlds a few weeks ago, I gave a talk about archaeological exploration of fantasy worlds, an idea I’ve had for a while and which I’m going to turn into a series on this blog. This post will be an introduction, followed by a few posts covering the sites in Middle Earth I looked at for my Nine Worlds talk. Subsequent posts will be added as I read about more cool fantasy worlds to travel to!
So, what is this fantasy archaeology idea. I’m an archaeologist (that is, I have a master’s degree in archaeology. I’m not actually working in or studying archaeology at the moment, but I would like to again in future), and I’m a massive world-building nerd, and I enjoy combining the two. One way of doing that, of course, is having the real-life past influence fantasy worlds, and that is a worthwhile activity (especially when done well and not just as a reinforcement of common (mis)conceptions of the past), but the thing I want to look at is the pasts of the fantasy worlds themselves. What I get really excited about is a fantasy world with a robust and evident in-world history.
After all, that’s what happens in the real world. History is presented as a series of discrete time periods, but that’s clearly not how it works. Things change over time, ways of thinking and being evolve and overlap. Objects continue from one period to the next. Even before museums, physical traces of the past were around, and were part of people’s lives. A lot of fantasy worlds are based on a kind of medieval-ish Europe (albeit a skewed, homogeneous cis-white-het-man version of medieval Europe). And in real life medieval Britain, for example, you have the first Hexham Abbey, built around the 7th century, entirely from stones from Roman ruins. And not just the most easily accessible, nearby ruins, but the most impressive, large, and decorated ones around. Slightly older older might end up with somewhat… unlikely interpretations. Did you know for example, that Merlin helped to build Stonehenge? At least according to 12th century historians.
This is the kind of things I really like to see when I read a fantasy novel. It makes the whole world seem more real, more solid. And it can work better than a huge exposition dump about the history of your world. (Not that I don’t enjoy those a lot sometimes, I admit.) But I don’t just want to write a series of critiques of various fantasy worlds’ world-building. I’m going to take a proper dive into fantasy non-fiction. We’re going to go on an expedition, and excavate some of the promising sites of each world. Look at these posts as a kind of pre-excavation briefing. We’ll examine the information available to us about each world and its sources, and make some predictions about what we might find at each site. Maybe along the way I can explain some archaeological concepts, too.
In Part two, we’ll start into Middle Earth, and have a look at historical sources and the kind of things you have to look out for when using them.
This week I installed my first exhibition for the Leatherhead Museum of Local History, where I volunteer as curator*.
During the construction process I felt more like I was back in school making a poster presentation, but now that it’s installed I do like the look of it! Although I continue to fantasise about what it would be like to have the budget for professional printing and acquiring more artefacts.
As it was I relied on the guidance of this very useful book, lent to me by my senior co-curator, and did the best I could:
Since I constantly have so many opinions about museum exhibits, it seems only fair – and useful to me anyway – to reflect on how this one went.
Mainly, it ended up more text-heavy than I think is ideal. That’s a result of the nature of the topic, though: it’s not based on anything in our collection, rather on a person connected to the man who’s officially reopening our museum next weekend. Even so I probably could have organised it differently to make it less text-heavy, perhaps focus on themes rather than chronology, as I did in this case:
If only I had room for both!
Apart from that I’m pretty happy with it. I’m looking forward to working more with the collection and presenting narratives with objects rather than so much text. Our next project is World War I commemoration, of course, which we have a nice bit of material for.
When we were setting up we also got another case ready, which I think will turn out really good. It has some examples of how we research items in the collection.
The museum opens officially on Saturday the 5th, so if you’re in the area come over and have a look, & tell me what you think.
*Naturally everything I write here is my own opinion and doesn’t represent the museum’s in any way.
Well, that was a month of unplanned hiatus. I hit a bit of a block with my one post per week goal, for various reasons. Impostor syndrome insecurities about what to write, and general procrastination. But I will take as many new beginnings as I can wring out of the world, and I did see the first bumble-bee of the year today, so I’m calling that a good omen.
One development while I’ve been gone: I started volunteering as curator at a small local museum. Apart from the whole lack of salary aspect it’s pretty much my perfect job at this point in time.
Last week the other curator and I went into the storage room of the museum to take stock of the artefacts we can use to build our upcoming exhibits. There is all kinds of wonderful stuff down there, it is very hard not to get distracted on random tangents all the time. Even surrounded by so many things — letters, photographs, receipts, ID cards — touched and made and changed by the hands of people who lived and are most likely dead now, it’s sometimes hard to remember that those people were real. That’s why I really liked this particular one; it made me feel an instant feeling of connection to the person who used it.
It’s a grey cash book from the early 1900s, from one of a set of boxes labelled „Henry Skilton“, which appear to contain Henry Skilton’s whole life in documents, with research notes for an article of some kind.
The inside cover has writing in it.
Page one, too.
Apart from occasional pages in the middle of the book, the rest of it is pristine blank pages.
There’s something intensely comforting about the fact that Henry Skilton from a century and a decade ago also had notebooks lying around that never got fully used. I have a stack of them in my desk drawer. It would be awkward to use them for anything else now, but they’re not being used for their original intended purpose either. I know nothing about this person, I can barely even read the handwriting in the book, but I felt a powerful sense of kinship flipping over those blank pages.
It’s nice to get reminders that history is real — that people are real. And aren’t people great and weird? We’re great and weird; I love us.
Museums in general serve various purposes: archiving and storing objects, displaying them, educating visitors, propaganda and promoting particular interpretations of the past. Of course, most of them prioritise a mixture of those features and goals. In December, I got to re-visit one of my favourite museums ever, Het Grachtenhuis, in Amsterdam. It’s a very small museum, but what I love about it is how tightly focused it is on its purpose. Rather than displaying a collection, it provides a coherent educational experience, detailing the construction of Amsterdam’s canals. There’s basically no cases of artefacts anywhere. (There are some cases with letters on the ground floor, but that is the bit I’ve mostly skipped both times I’ve been there. Sorry museums people, but things in cases are just too dull for me a lot of the time. Especially letters.)
Instead, the top floor of the museum is a whole multimedia experience. That sounds like a wankery buzzword sentence, but it’s accurate! You get an audio guide on the way in, and in each room there is a presentation being projected onto furniture or models in synchronisation with narration in your chosen language. The presentation itself uses maps, bits of medieval art, and simple animation in a clever and charming way, just enough to be visually interesting and clarify what’s being said without the images and narration fighting for your attention. I won’t describe the four rooms of the presentation in too much detail so as not too spoil it, but it’s all really cute and excellently engineered.
It gets around the problem of what language to present things in, too – there’s (almost) no writing in the exhibit, it’s all given to you through your headset. Of course, that’s going to be an accessibility problem for some people, and the house itself is not very accessible either, as fas as I could see. Lots of stairs.
Apart from those limitations, though, I’m a big fan of the museum. It doesn’t overload you, it gives you enough to satisfy you for half an hour or so and come away feeling entertained and informed, without being completely worn down and exhausted. If you’re going on a trip to Amsterdam and the accessibility issues don’t affect you, I’d recommend it as one of your first stops. It gives you a good overview of the shape of the city and how it came to be, and whets your appetite for more learning.
But, I am the kind of person who enjoys DVD commentary tracks. The one suggestion I would make, if I was in charge of the thing, was that instead, or alongside of making the lower floor a history of the house itself and the people who lived in it, make a little room for a making of the museum section, showing how the presentations were assembled and how the information was researched. (They do actually have a neat little video on their website, but it looks like it’s only in Dutch.) I like it when museums justify the interpretation and narrative they present.
What are your fave museums?