Customer Reviews

The Goddess and the Bull: Catalhoyuk--An Archaeological Journey to the Dawn of Civilization

5 star:		(9)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

"The Goddess and the Bull" is a fasinating and well written book, enjoyable at many levels. Michael Balter began thinking about Catalhoyuk when Science magazine assigned him to write a story about the excavations back in 1998. He became fascinated by the subject, found reasons to go back to the dig to write follow up articles, and eventually became the excavation's official biographer.

The story begins with James Mellaart's discovery of the mound at Catalhoyuk and the stunning realization that it was Neolithic (New Stone Age) from top to bottom--to use Mellaart's phrase, no "filthy Roman muck" cluttered this site. Balter describes the excavation of the site in the 1960s, the excitement about the discovery of "Goddess" figurines, Mellaart's expulsion from Turkey in the aftermath of the mysterious Dorak Affair, and the long hiatus between Mellaart's departure in 1965 and the arrival of Ian Hodding's team in 1993. The narrative offers many insights about the debates among "processual" and "post-processual" archaeologists, as well as the backgrounds of the many interesting people who choose to live and dig at Catalhoyuk year after year.

But the stars of the book are Catalhoyuk and its people. What do we know about these villagers, those generations that occupied the site for nearly 1,000 years? Did they worship bulls or goddesses? Were their cattle domesticated or wild or something in between? Why did they bury their dead beneath the floors of their houses? Why did they bury and sometimes burn their houses, only to build new structures on top of the old, over and over again? And why did they choose to live together in such large numbers in the middle of what was then a marsh?

There may never be any final answer to any of these questions, or to the myriad of other questions raised by Catalhoyuk and other Neolithic sites. Still, half the pleasure is in the journey, and Balter has done an excellent job of describing a journey that is truly marvelous.

I had hoped to be able to imagine the life of the ancient Catalhoyuk community. Instead, Balter emphasises the lives and works of the modern Archaeologists. It was a good read, but I learned precious little about what I really wanted to know. There were too many "year book pictures" and too few photos of artifacts. It portrayed the dig as a kind of Archaeology Camp. I am glad they had so much fun, but what did they find out?

Believe me, if you're interested in the archaeological site of Catal Hoyuk, don't waste your money on this book. It's a monumental disappointment.

Catal Hoyuk is one of the most important archaeological sites in the world, yet the current excavator, Ian Hodder, has published next to nothing about it -- even though he's been excavating there since 1993 and is getting funded handsomely by some of the largest multinational corporations going. So it was with great interest and excitement that I off-loaded my precious cash for a copy of this book -- one that promised not only info about the lives of the ancient people who lived at this early Neolithic site, but also about the stately, powerful, obviously other-worldly, and mysterious ancient female figurines and other art found there.

What a let-down. Not only does Balter not tell anything about the people being excavated at Catal Hoyuk -- who they might have been, how they might have lived their lives -- he barely mentions the female figurines. Despite his title -- which I think he knew would sell the book -- he barely mentions any goddess or goddesses (except to ridicule people who think Catal Hoyukians might have "believed in" or had anything to do with such an outlandish notion as female divinity). As the anthropologist Pat Shipman wrote recently, this book is "about neither a goddess nor a bull.... Indeed, *The Goddess and the Bull* is not really about the archaological site of Catalhoyuk either..." (Nature, Vol. 435, 19 May 2005: pp. 278-79).

If you want the life histories of some of the 100 or so people helping excavate this site, however, by all means, plunk down your dollars and grab a copy.

Michael Balter is a writer for Science magazine, and does a very good job of writing a book which is interesting on many levels. Not only is the book informative, but skillfully written so as to be enjoyable. The book begins with a history of the excavations at Çatalhöyük carried out by James Mellaart in the 1960's. By the fourh chapter, it is discussing the events leading up to the site being reopened by the eminent archaeologist Ian Hodder, who has assembled an all-star team to determine the feasibility of a new archaeological methodology. Part biography, part adventure, it is one of the few works of non-fiction which I have been unable to put down.

The book serves well to provide a degree of transparency to the Çatalhöyük excavations that I've never seen before. Many of the excavators are put under a microscope, just as one of the specialists, Wendy Matthews, does to fragments of the houses they excavate. Indeed, this may be a useful metaphor: in understanding the meaning of the houses unearthed, we need to understand how it was constructed; to understand the conclusions reached by the Çatalhöyük team, we need to know the makeup of the crew.

I n an email I sent earlier today to the author, I commented that the book "feels similar to an adventure novel along the lines of a Clarke novel, except that it
is all real." I hold to this. The book as a whole is an exciting read, and it's rather a relief to sometimes read about an archaeological project without having to stop and reflect deeply every two pages. This is not to say that the book doesn't stimulate the mind. It is, however, written so as not to be a burden.

Having read a small variety of different books on archaeological theory, I can also recommend the book as a good way of introducing oneself to the varied archaeological positions in archaeology. He writes an artful, and only slightly biased, history of theory. Most chapters are filled with background. It is also the first book I have read to describe the methodological differences created by the postprocessual archaeological approach, and the real-world consequences of managing a team by that approach. As a student who is planning to enter graduate school in archaeology next fall, this is especially useful and thought-provoking.

Even if one simply wishes to explore the intricacies of a site, without any archaeological background, "The Goddess and the Bull" is an exciting book. It also lays out enough groundwork and knowledge of the site's participants to be able to usefully glean additional information from the excavation's website, Çatalhöyük Excavations. As an area studies book, it lacks the extreme amounts of data normally accompanying such a book. It also shouldn't be used as a primary source. I would be surprised, however, if either of these were Balter's goals. Indeed, it may contribute something more to the field, that maybe more archaeologists should be aware of: by writing about the site in a narrative, one might be able to understand the site much more than if one simply read about feature placement, artifact scatters, and other such "raw" data.

It's a fair presentation of the site and I would recommend it to anyone of any interest level in archaeology, a professor, undergraduate student, or dabbler, or even anyone simply looking for a good read.

Too much info about the diggers and too little about the site.
A brief history of finding the site and the dig would have
been fine as part of a larger work, but this book is misdirected
and mislabeled.

May 2005, the Smithsonian Magazine ran an article by Michael Balter, about the subject of his new work, THE GODDESS AND THE BULL. Having now read the article and Balter's book about the ancient archeological site known as Catalhöyük, I can say the book title is catchy but a bit misleading. If you are looking for evidence of Goddess worship at Catalhöyük, you won't hear much about the topic from the current dig participants, according to Balter. Even though the dig web site apparently boasts an image of "her" and contemporary excavators have uncovered dozens of little female figurines similar to those found many years ago by James Mellaart, who made the site famous when he arrived at the opposite conclusion - that the inhabitants honored a Goddess, the current excavators consider "her" a joke.

Catalhöyük lies in South-Central Turkey due east of Hacilar, which Mellaart also excavated at one point in his distinguished career. Ian Hodder, the current director of the Catalhöyük "dig" was allowed to reopen the site years after Mellaart's ignominious and unfair removal by the Turkish government - largely owing to politics. When Hodder and company arrived at the site they found the "south" area Mellaart and his team had excavated in the 1960s had become badly eroded and overgrown with vegetation, so the new team has mostly concentrated it's efforts on a more northerly area of the 32 acre site in addition to cleaning up the old excavation as they went along.

Mellaart described Catalhöyük as "Neolithic" - which in the 1960s was identified as the period in human history when human settlement became associated with the invention of agriculture and the domestication of animals. According to Balter both the concept and the operational definition of this term remain unresolved (which came first settlements or agriculture?) and archeologists like Hodder dispute its traditional use.

Much occurred over the intervening years to separate the efforts of Mellaart and Hodder. First, the new Archeology was born, then the "new" variant was revised into a newer archeology led by Hodder. Balter describes this newer archeology as practiced by the current crop of excavators and specialists working at Catalhöyük as `post-processual' archeology making everything that went before `processual'. Balter spends about one third of the book trying to explain Hodder's academic stance and how it differs from other archeological positions, as he, a travel-writer and journalist, understands it. He drops references to Levi-Strauss, Marx, and other scholars without really discussing why their thoughts were important to Hodder (He may not know, but he obviously believes Hodder is the "good guy" in his squabble with the "establishment). Another annoying tic of Balther's is his continuous use of the adjective "feminist" to describe many of the female participants in the current dig as if this it is relevant (if it is why?).

It was not until I moved into the later stages of his tale (Balther is called the "project biographer" by the team at Catalhöyük) that I began to recall discussions in structural anthropology classes about the `synchronic' and `diachronic' and "taking each case as it comes", i.e. not using the dynamics of an old case to explain a new case." At that point, I thought I began to understand what Balter was trying to say Hodder was thinking and saying and doing (maybe I don't, if so I am in good company, apparently).

According to Balter, archeologists became concerned with "how do we know what we know" in the 1970s and 1980s (sociologists have long grappled with this concern -- French ethnographers like Levi-Strauss consider(ed) themselves 'sociologists'). The problem can be expressed as: whenever you perceive something what you see (your perception) is influenced by your "categories of understanding" or "world view" or "classificatory system" to use the phrase I learned when I studied with a student of Rodney Needham. These preconceptions influence how you interpret "facts" or "do science". This begs the question, if a group of archeologists was attempting to demonstrate their "new" approach was really different and could produce "better" results, would they arrive at the same conclusions as the "old" archeologists?

Hodder's interest in Marx, who pointed out that experiences shape beliefs, mislead me for a moment, as he was a historian and Balther says the post-processsualists eschew history-which is confusing because Balther keeps bringing up change i.e. cause and effect or settlement-->agriculture, which is processual or historical.

In spite of some of the long passages detailing every contributor's background I enjoyed the book because I love Balter's discussion about archaebotany, which clearly shows improvements in forensics in the field. What the inhabitants of Catalhöyük ate may have made them what they were- whether it be emmer wheat, domesticated wheat, wild bulls or domesticated cattle. What that was, and whether or not they gave thanks to a God or Goddess for their bounty, is not clear.

The mound of Catalhoyuk in southern Turkey is one of the great neolithic sites, and major excavations have been going on for decades. Michael Balter is a respected journalist who knows a great deal about archaelogy. Alas, he has chosen to tell us ABOUT THE DIGGERS AND NOT ABOUT THE DIG. If you want to know how digs are organized and done - the sociology and politics of the archaeology world, this is a good read. If you want to know about Neolithic civilization in Anatolia and how Catalhoyuk excavations have advanced our understanding, go somewhere else. A disappointment.

What would it have been like to live there? A high plain, holding a marshland framed by distant hills. The flat countryside allowed access to various resources and links to other communities. Cattle roamed in places, but at some point, these were brought under human control. In the meantime, there were sheep, goats and pigs to complement stands of barley and early wheat. Although this might describe countless villages of today, this was something more like a town or "settlement". Well populated for a millennium, this was a community inhabited by up to 8 000 people at one time. And the time was over nine thousand years ago at a place now known as Catalhoyuk. World-famous now, the story of this ancient settlement is graphically portrayed in this comprehensive account.

James Mellaart was investigating "mounds" in Turkey, coming to Catalhoyuk in 1958. Mounds in flat places are certain signs of human habitation. First surface scrapings led Mellaart to serious excavating and the settlement began to emerge. Not only was this an ancient community, but it was large and complex. The dead were buried under house floors, domesticated animals were put on ovens for dinner, and walls were decorated with bulls' horns, while figurines interpreted as women or goddesses were scattered about. Hence, the title of this book. Both the bulls and the figurines remained in central roles as excavations proceeded and attempts to understand the inhabitants' society were debated.

Mellaart, embroiled in a scandal over some Neolithic "treasures" was ultimately banned from the site by the Turkish government. Years later, another archaeologist, Ian Hodder, was granted permits to continue the work. He launched a decades-long programme, utilising hundreds of excavators, preparators and specialists in a variety of fields to sift the evidence on what Catalhoyuk was and how its people might have lived. Michael Balter couldn't interview those folks, but he details the lives of those working the site over the years with intimate - and articulate - skill. From the site's chief Hodder through the various specialists to the locals involved, he weaves an intricate tapestry of active, and interactive, lives. The result is many small portraits forming a large picture centred on this spectacular settlement.

Hodder's choice as team leader brought a serious archaeological debate into closer focus. For a long time, archaeology had simply meant digging - find the site, unearth whatever artefacts were revealed and leave interpretation to the philosophers. A key point, however, continually intruded - when did humans domesticate plants and animals and where did they do it? How did agriculture change human society? Did people form communities before or after they learned to farm? Balter examines these questions thoroughly as he relates Hodder's career and how Catalhoyuk influenced his thinking and that of others in the discipline. Hodder's role proved essential in dealing with a movement known as "The New Archaeology" founded by Lewis Binford and others. It was to be a more scientific approach to digs, adding elements of "ethnoarchaeology" - greater focus on the inhabitants than just pots and middens. What was unearthed was to be considered as evidence of social behaviour.

As Balter explains, the evidence modified both the core New Archaeology and Hodder's own revisions of it. Close examination of the evidence emerging from the dig demonstrated that no simple conclusions could be drawn. The marshland around the community provided rich soil for tilling and animals for food and fuel. Dung was commonly burned in cooking ovens - it's better than wood for temperature control. But that meant the people wandered great distances to gather it. These findings, seemingly mundane, prove the real clues to how people lived. Houses are also indicative. Why were they deliberately burned [as many were]? Was it a signal of the end of a family line? What was the role of men contrasted to the women? "Mother Goddess" cults have emerged, particularly in the US, stemming from Mellaart's original discoveries, but Hodder's team discounts their premise, insisting sexual equality seemed to be the norm at Catalhoyuk.

In all, Balter has provided an exquisite overview of the science and practices of archaeology. By heavily personalising his account, he has firmly dispelled any notion of "white coat" scientists or excavators removed from "real life". Instead, he depicts how the lab can support the diggers, and the trowel-wielders in turn, bring ancient times into today's world. An excellent book, dealing with many levels of research and life, presented with clarity and an obvious affection for the subjects. [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]

One of the high points of my life was standing on the great mound of Catalhoyuk, looking down into the excavations. Catalhoyuk was the world's first real town, with the first lavish widespread art, and the first of many other things. It is also a fascinating and mysterious site. The many female figurines were thought by the site's first excavator, James Mellaart, to be representations of the Mother Goddess, a popular deity in historic times in Anatolia; bull figures and paintings seem to foreshadow the bull cults of the historic Mediterranean (reaching their final, degenerate form in the modern bullfight). Mellaart was an incurable romantic, and his flights of speculation have been questioned. So in the 1990s Ian Hodder, also a romantic and a lover of speculation, began to dig at Catalhoyuk, to see what really happened.
This book tells the whole story, at a very accessible, popular level. The author's target audience is shown by the fact that he feels it necessary to explain that Cambridge and Oxford are England's two leading universities. This book would be ideal for a bright high school student or college undergrad interested in archaeology. (In fact, I'll probably give it to my nephew, a freshman anthro major.) I had expected a full report on all the seeds, bones, plaster fragments, and so on. Instead, this book focuses on people--the ancient ones, but, much more, the modern ones. It is an amazing insight into real archaeology and real archaeologists. Some of those "general readers" probably thought of archaeologists as either Professor Dryasdust or coolly rational Indiana Jones types; they will be surprised to read of the intensity of loves, hates, and other emotions displayed herein. In fact, archaeologists are passionate people. You have to be passionate to spend day after day working in blazing sun and choking dust, with no payoff other than the hope of finding out something about the human condition and the human spirit. (I know some of the people who appear in this book. They are accurately and sympathetically portrayed here.)
One particularly good aspect of the book is the author's excellent presentation of the relevant archaeological theories, especially processual archaeology and Ian Hodder's "post-processual" challenge to it. This is fairly hard material, but the author makes it beautifully clear without excessive simplification. Processualists concentrate on subsistence and ordinary life; post-processualists concentrate on, or at least look deeply into, how ancient people thought, felt, philosophized, and communicated. Sometimes the processualists seem to think that one can get nothing but foodways from the record. Sometimes post-processualists make ancient people sound all too similar to elite French philosophers of the late 20th century. There is a theme in this book (not, alas, discussed quite enough) of Hodder's gradual tempering of his post-processualism to deal with the hard reality of food remains and garbage dumps.
This book is by a science reporter, not an archaeologist, which helps the writing style, but also leads to some problems. Theories of the rise of agriculture do not fare well. Some important ones are missed--notably the late R. S. MacNeish's theory emphasizing trade, and Joy McCorriston's brilliant eclectic theorizing. Those theories were not much considered by Hodder, so perhaps they need not figure here, but, still--I'd have liked to see them. Agriculture was invented in at least four areas besides the Near East, and good theories should try to explain all these inventions. A rather far-fetched theory by one Cauvin is featured here (because Hodder played with it for a while), but even if it were not over the wall, it would apply only to the Near East, so as a general theory of agriculture it is inadequate. Problematic, also, are countless small mistakes or not-quite-rights--each one trivial in itself, but they add up. Some are minor (such as misspelling desiccation as "dessication"). More serious is the failure to show the difference between Turkish dotted and undotted i. These are different letters (roughly, dotted i represents the "ee" sound, undotted i the "uh" sound). Then there are theories that should be questioned more: Marshall Sahlins' "original affluent society" idea, the whole idea of sedentization and coming-together as some huge new deal (actually it was very widespread in prehistoric times), and others.
That said, this is a fine book, and the intended readers will not lose much because of such minor flaws.
In the end, we need both processual and post-processual approaches. We need to stay grounded in hard material things we can study, such as food remains. But we need to think a little. I still think those female figurines are goddesses (but, contra Mellaart, they do not imply a matriarchal, peaceful society, any more than goddesses did in early historic Anatolia). The mysterious, powerful, intensely evocative art of Catalhoyuk remains one of the earliest really great triumphs of the human spirit. As such, it should be known to everyone. It is a vital part of the human heritage. Thanks to Michael Balter (as to Mellaart before him) for making it accessible to a wide audience.

This book is very disappointing, if you are actually interested in history and archeology. If you love gossip go for it though. You will learn everything about the secret lifes of archeologists (how they play and mate). Too bad that all this nonsense leaves no place for what would have been trully interesting - a detailed discussion of the ancient site of Catalhoyuk.