The Light Garden of the Angel King : journeys in Afghanistan by Peter Levi
London: Collins, 1972
I mentioned in my review of Peter Levi's book of travel and archaeology in Ancient Greece, The Hill of Kronos, that Levi had travelled to Afghanistan with Bruce Chatwin. This book, The Light Garden of the Angel King, is the record of that journey, from Levi's perspective. It is a journal of archaeology and travel, rather than a journal of personalities. It is a journal of a poet, collecting images and events to mull over and use (the poems Levi composed whilst on the journey are in an appendix at the back of the book).
The aim of the journey, for Levi, was to investigate whether the ancient Greek influence on Afghanistan was discernable through its archaeology, and how much of it still remained. Much as Levi does in The Hill of Kronos, he and Chatwin travel through areas where archaeology abounds, but the knowledge of it was minimal or non-existant. Travelling in Afghanistan has always been dangerous from a human and geographical point of view, and Levi has guns pointed at him, sleeps through an earthquake and suffers both extremes of heat and cold during his journey through the rugged hills and valleys of the country.
In this book he gets around quite a bit of the country, from Helmand, to Kandahar, Kabul, through Nuristan and to within sight of the Oxus River, he describes to us ancient citadels, ruined cities, nail-biting 'plane trips and interesting characters met along the way. There are some highly technical sections in the book about the finds Levi makes archaeologically, and these are well supported with footnotes. But, for me, it is his descriptions of the Afghan countryside, in its starkness and beauty, that are the best parts of the book.
Much like The Hill of Kronos, The Light Garden of the Angel King somewhat falls between two stools as a book, neither being a proper archaeological study, nor a full-on travel book. It is, however a good book.
Cheers for now, from
A View Over the Bell
Thursday, 22 February 2018
Tuesday, 30 January 2018
Nest of Traitors : the Petrov Affair by Nicholas Whitlam and John Stubbs
Milton, Queensland: The Jacaranda Press, 1974 ISBN 0701607963
The Petrov affair, as it has become known, has - in the twenty-first century - become a footnote of the Cold War; a minor episode in the to-and-fro of the espionage activities of the Eastern Bloc and Western Allies.
At the time it was a major sensation in Australia, which had long been considered a backwater in most aspects of policy and activity in this struggle. Petrov's defection, and the Royal Commission into Espionage initiated by Prime Minister Robert Menzies in its aftermath, changed the political landscape in Australia, led to the toppling of Opposition Leader and head of the Parliamentary Labor Party Doc Evatt, and also led directly to the Labor Split, which consigned that party to opposition for another twenty years.
Therefore the circumstances of Petrov's defection, and of the Royal Commission, have been for many years a source of historical and political angst, not helped by the fact that - given the nature of what occurred - much secrecy surrounds the whole affair.
This book, written by the son of former Prime Minister Gough Whitlam (in fact published while he was running the country) and a journalist, certainly has an agenda to push. That agenda is, that if the defection wasn't actually staged by the Government, it was at least timed by Menzies to help him win the election in which the defection, Royal Commission and the spectre of Communism became major issues. The authors use a classic straw man set up to try and show that many of the documents that Petrov bought with him were manufactured, and that Petrov himself wasn't all that he claimed to be.
While there is little doubt that Menzies used the defection for maximum political advantage, it is also clear that Evatt did much to contribute to his own downfall. By choosing to represent his staffers, who became embroiled in the Commission, he became personally involved himself, and was obsessed with the idea that the documents - the infamous document "J" in particular - were forgeries, and that Petrov, far from being the MVD agent he claimed, was merely a lowly cipher clerk.
Whitlam and Stubbs rely heavily on John Burton and Michael Bialoguski's stories of what happened, and of course on the proceedings of the Commission itself. I find their excoriation of Petrov, based on the Commission's findings, a trifle naive; as even at the time it was clear there was material Petrov had brought with him that was not in the public domain. Many years after this book was written the publication of the Venona decrypts supported Petrov's version and shed light on such additional information that he provided the West. Burton is not an unbiased source, as he was closely allied to Evatt and the Labor Party, and also had strong views about whether Australia should in fact have it's own intelligence and counter-espionage service.
As a guide to the Petrov affair, this book needs to be read with reservations. As a guide to the political storm the defection caused at the time, and was still causing twenty years later, it's a fascinating time capsule.
Cheers for now, from
A View Over the Bell