Customer Reviews

The Buried Book: The Loss and Rediscovery of the Great Epic of Gilgamesh

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In the mid-19th Century, the fragile condition of the Ottoman Empire left its borders more open to intrusion by Christian visitors. Originally intending to simply visit the "Holy Land", the influx included people who wanted to know more about the various peoples living in Biblical times. Their quests led them to the earliest sites of human civilisation, ancient Mesopetamia. The Land of Two Rivers hinted at early complex societies and a bit of scratching around at enigmatic mounds revealed immense potential for new knowledge. David Damrosch, a scholar of literature, focusses on one element of that vast store, the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Damrosch organises his material around the diggers, their findings and the stories revealed. There are several notable figures, with the author striving to give credit where that has been lacking - or purposely dismissed. Austen Layard was the prime mover in the revelation of Nineveh. After him, a self-taught enthusiast, George Smith, became among the earliest translators of ancient Akkadian, the language engraved on the multitude of clay shards uncovered. A third, more tragic figure is that of Hormuzd Rassam. With family and cultural ties to the area, Rassam kept teams of excavators working, sometimes in the face of obstructions by Ottoman authorities. His finds were significant, but, according to Damrosch his origins made him "suspect". The British attitude toward "Orientals" led to his work being dismissed as unimportant or even false. Yet, between them all, a legend buried for two millennia came into view - the epic of Gilgamesh.

The real purpose of this book is revealed at Damrosch examines and assesses the Gilgamesh story. Apart from its seeming verification of the Noachean Flood, Gilgamesh offers insight to how ancient peoples viewed their relationship to the gods. The epic also demonstrates how myths and legends, especially those dealing with social norms and major events, were neither conceived nor accepted in isolation. Each culture passed its myths to its neighbours, the process often blurring origins beyond identification. Damrosch sees Mesopetamian floods of cities on the plains as inspiring others. To those ancient peoples, the loss of a mud-brick city to floodwaters was tantamount to the end of the world [as a literary scholar, Damrosch is apparently unaware of William Ryan's thesis on the flooding of the Black Sea as a source for these legends]. Far more significant, however, is Damrosch's explanation of the persistence of the Gilgamesh story both in its homeland and as a part of Western society's outlook. The book, although narrowly focussed, is a major contribution. The writing is a touch labourious, but flows smoothly enough to remain informative and entertaining. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]

Let me first say that I enjoyed this book. However, while the book purports to be about the history of the Gilgamesh epic, very little of the book is actually devoted to that topic. More than half the book is a biographical sketch of 2 important 19th century British scholars, George Smith and Hormuzd Rassam. Smith was the first to read fragments of the Gilgamesh story, while Rassam excavated some of the fragments. These bios are actually quite interesting and are the highlight of the book. (One wonders, though, if Rassam is given such high praise in part because he was Arab and therefore discriminated against in his own time.)
Much of the rest of the book is essentially a history of various periods in Mesopotamian history. First is a discussion of the reigns of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal, under whose reigns the most important extant Gilgamesh fragments were copied. However, these chapters really don't connect to the story of Gilgamesh very well.
The final chapter deals with the presence of the Gilgamesh epic's themes in the modern world. I am not convinced that Saddam Hussein's books have anything to do with the Gilgamesh theme (other than the fact that he writes about the ancient Assyrians). I am likewise unconvinced of the Philip Roth connection (other than the fact that he names a character in one of his novels Gil Gamesh).
Despite the bizarre format of the book, and the fact that Gilgamesh features very little in the book, the book is worth reading. Just don't expect much Gilgamesh!

The story begins in 19th century Iraq with the accidental discovery of the until then unknown Epic of Gilgamesh, and unlike most history books, works backwards in time slowly revealing the mystery of its origins and meaning - this chronology works well, not unlike an archaeological dig. The first half of the book is devoted to two unlikely and largely unsung heroes of the Victorian era who first found and deciphered the tablets, George Smith and Horzmud Rassam. Rassam is probably the most important and unique revelation of the book, as Damrosch restores an unfairly maligned scholar to his rightful place in history and perhaps some immortality. The second half of the book jumps backwards from the 19th century to when the Epic was written, discussing the history of the Assyrian kingdom, and the library where the tablets were buried. The tablets were buried around 700 BC when the city was sacked, and thus the Epic lain forgotten from that time until the 19th century. Had the city not been sacked and the tablets not buried, it is likely the Epic would have been lost forever, as most tablets from that period did not survive otherwise.

This is a fun tale, both Smith and Rassam encompass dramatic lives as underdogs who rose from obscurity, overcoming Victorian prejudices of class and race. If nothing else the first half of the book is worth the price of admission, in particular Rassam's side adventure to Ethiopia. Damrosch's literary interpretation of the Epic (Ch. 6) provides valuable insights, such as the importance of cedar trees, making it less "foreign" (both in time and culture) and more universally human. I certainly came away with a new appreciation of the tales message of the quest for immortality.

The Sources and Notes section includes an up to date guide of recent translations of the Epic, recommended reading before deciding which translation(s) to pursue.

Damrosch sets out to do three things in Buried Book: telling the stories of George Smith and Hormuzd Rassam, two of the archeologists responsible for recovering the Epic of Gilgamesh and the other treasures of Mesopotamia; and putting the clay tablets into historical and literary context. Neither Smith nor Rassam is well known today; both suffered from not being born English gentlemen. Smith was a poor lad who taught himself to read cuneiform and was eventually recognized and rewarded by being sent to Mesopotamia by the British Museum. Rassam was a Christian born in Mosul who supervised many excavations but was written out of history by Victorian scholars who resented him for being a "native"--though he would die in Brighton. As for the texts on the tablets, rather than quote extensively from the Epic--which is readily available in translation--Damrosch gives readers a portrait of Assyrian society. The legend was already over a thousand years old when Ashurbanipal, an Assyrian king, collected more than one version of it for his library. That library, and its destruction by fire, preserved the tale for us. Quotes from letters and memos to and from Ashurbanipal, his father Esarhaddon, and their courtiers bring these men to life. Buried Book is well written. It demands no specialist knowledge, yet the Sources at the end provide a good list of books for those who get hooked on Gilgamesh, the ancient Near East, and the Western scholars who "discovered" it.

I shall be brief: tedious. I should like it, I'm an ex-librarian and ex-archaeologist in Near Eastern Studies and actually studied Akkadian for a year at university. I have held cuneiform tablets, transcribed and translated them. This book is all about the personalities and their conflicted Victorian classism. It is not about the translation, or the process of archaeology.

A fascinating topic for a book is made tedious and annoying by author David Damrosch. Damrosch, a comparative literature teacher, manages to bury a great story under an avalanche of trite comments. The man simply has no idea how to let a story tell itself. He makes the interesting banal. Damrosch burns through forests-worth of paper impressing himself with his own wit, leaving the reader to sift through his academic prose for the 'good parts' version of the Gilgamesh back-story.

For an author who obviously did a lot of research in putting this book together, Damrosch makes a rookie error in stating that Stanley's expedition to find Livingston was funded by the Daily Telegraph: it was the New York Herald that paid his freight.

"The Buried Book" is in dire need of a ghostwriter, someone who can turn the fruits of Damrosch's research into something readable.

*with apologies to Ambrose Bierce, a man who knew how to tell a tale.

"The Epic of Gilgamesh" is standard fare in college literature, history and religion courses today. The ancient Mesopotamian tale, which has the earliest known version of the Flood Story, has influenced and inspired Mesopotamians (including the ancestors of the early Hebrews) for centuries, along with possibly Greeks and other Mediterranean peoples. However, but for a chance archaeological discovery in the 19th century, the original tale may have been lost forever.

In THE BURIED BOOK, scholar David Damrosch explores the importance of Gilgamesh for the ancient Mesopotamians as well as how it was discovered in the early days of archeology and translated from cuneiform into English by a self-taught linguist.

The journey of the epic from ancient Mesopotamia to the college classroom and beyond is quite extraordinary, and Damrosch does an excellent job presenting the tale. He cleverly tells the story of the "loss and rediscovery" of Gilgamesh backwards, starting with its translation from the clay tablets by George Smith, who worked for the British Museum, in 1872. Without Smith, Gilgamesh and his story most likely would have been ignored or overlooked.

The actual discovery of the Gilgamesh tablets (no one entire copy has survived, and what we read has been pieced together from tablets at various sites) was made by the Iraqi archaeologist Hormuzd Rassam, a figure who bridged the divide between the Occident and the Orient. Despite his success and important discoveries, he was never fully accepted or respected by most of his European counterparts, even after making England his home and years of dedicated service to the British Museum. Both Smith and Rassam are as interesting as their work, and Damrosch nicely weaves in to his book some of their biography.

Before Rassam uncovered the tablets that ultimately contained "The Epic of Gilgamesh," they were buried for centuries. And, if not for an Assyrian king in the 7th century BCE, the tablets may not have survived at all. Ashurbanipal collected religious and secular literary works, in effect creating the world's first library. Ashurbanipal is also a fascinating character, and as THE BURIED BOOK marches backward through time, Ashurbanipal's name is added to the list of important men who preserved the amazing tale of Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh himself predates anything written about him, and Damrosch explores the history and legend of this very ancient hero and leader.

After tracing the story of Gilgamesh back as far as possible, Damrosch returns readers to the present. Saddam Hussein rushes to put the finishing touches on his latest novel as American troops close in on him. That he is a novelist may be surprising to some. But at this point in Damrosch's examination, it is not surprising that Hussein would compare himself to Gilgamesh and use the epic as a cultural, national and religious touchstone. But Hussein is not the only one to borrow from or refer to the great epic; writers such as Philip Roth and, more recently, Joan London have done the same. And, as Damrosch also explains, ancient authors most likely have been doing so for well over a thousand years.

THE BURIED BOOK is smart and compelling, as much for the story of the men who preserved the epic as for the story of the buried book itself. It is an academic subject, but Damrosch's exploration is immensely readable for lay people as well. Whether interested in literature or history, culture or religion, readers will find THE BURIED BOOK enjoyable and enlightening. The author has succeeded in making what could have been a stuffy tale totally exciting.



--- Reviewed by Sarah Rachel Egelman

I really enjoyed reading "The Buried Book". Unlike some other Amazon readers, I felt it was a lot less tedious than actually sifting through sand and transcribing cuneiform. If you're looking for a book about the translation or the process of archaeology, look elsewhere. If you enjoy reading about personalities within a social context and high adventure, this book is for you. The reader also learns a lot about ancient literature within Mesopotamian culture. David Damrosch's research is impressive. Those that like "The Buried Book" might also like Joseph Alexander MacGillivray's "Minotaur".

I was disappointed by this book, though it's not necessarily the author's fault. Looking at the cover and reading the back, I was somehow led to believe that it would be about history and archaeology, when it's actually more like literary criticism. This isn't bad in itself, it's just not what I was looking for.

From a historical viewpoint, I thought the author took a few too many liberties to create a vivid image of the past. At one point, he instructs the reader to "Imagine the king thinking things through after receiving this alarming letter, perhaps reclining at night on a lion-footed couch in his harem, having dismissed his wives so he could think in peace, torches flickering as he pondered the clay tablet in his hand, the broken halves of its clay casing littering the floor." It's only fifteen pages later that he reveals a critical detail: "the king faced one difficulty in studying these reports: he couldn't read. If he pondered Kudurru's alarming letter in his darkened palace at night, the tablet in his hand would have been frustratingly opaque to him." Without this much later clarification, the earlier passage is misleading at best. At worst, it's intentionally so; there's no real reason to think that the tablet itself would have been in the king's possession rather than that of his scribes, since the physical object was useless to him.

Another historical issue that I felt was treated unsatisfactorily was the king's decision about succession. Damrosch tells us that he "made a compromise decision" and that it "proved disastrous. [He] tried to... give the kingdom to his preferred son Ashurbanipal and yet pacify Shamash-shumu-ukin by making him a subsidiary king in Babylon. Sending him south would keep him away from his half brother and ease tensions between them, and giving Babylonia its own king might soften the resentment the southerns continued to feel". While Damrosch goes on to say that the decision was "problematic" and "unheard-of" and "must have seemed dubious", he never manages to show the reader what was so disastrous about it. He says that Ashurbanipal ruled without problem for sixteen years, after which his half-brother did rebel, but that Ashurbanipal "finally subdued Babylon" after about five years, went on in the next two years to destroy the other nation that had participated in the rebellion, and then continued to rule for many more years: his reign lasted forty years in all. That's not quite what I would consider a disaster. It was only after Ashurbanipal's death that the "seriously overextended" Assyrian empire collapsed, which suggests that it was the sheer size of the empire, rather than the specific succession decision, that was the problem. Even before Ashurbanipal's reign, after all, there was resentment in Babylonia.

Those historical problems, combined with the fact that I'm just not particularly interested in literary criticism, left me dissatisfied with this book. For the reader who's more interested in literature than in history, though, I can imagine that it would be an enjoyable read.

One might be forgiven for thinking that a book that is half-devoted to the archaeological expeditions and discoveries in Mesopotamia in the nineteenth century, and the subsequent attempts of linguists to crack the linguistic "code" that ultimately led to the recovery of the Epic of Gilgamesh, would be dry. One would be wrong: Damrosch writes with velocity and poise, yet does not sacrifice scholarly heft, weaving in issues of pertaining to colonialism, culture, race, and the arbitrariness of history, as he hurtles backward towards ancient Mesopotamia. Along the way, he attempts to set the record straight by shedding new light on the (unlikely, and remarkable) career of Iraqi archaeologist Hormuzd Rassam, so central to the Western re-discovery of the ancient Assyrian and Babylonian pasts, and so often shunted to the side by his British colleagues, whether as an archaeologist or a diplomat; Damrosch's rescue of Rassam's work from oblivion seems to me as much an ethical act as one of scholarship.

But the book offers other pleasures too: Damrosch has a novelist's gift when it comes to characterization, and vividly sketches nineteenth century scholars like George Smith and Henry Rawlinson to life. But most rewarding of all is Damrosch's evocation of the ancient milieu of the epic, and his account of the functionings of the Assyrian court and bureaucrac; not to mention his engagement with the poem itself, and with its abiding relevance. It is man's fate to die, the poem seems to tell us, and even at such great remove, the uncompromising clarity of that insight unsettles.