Customer Reviews

A Perfect Red: Empire, Espionage, and the Quest for the Color of Desire

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In recent years, there have been published a number of excellent books about the history of color, including monographs focusing on natural and coal tar dyes. Amy Butler Greenfield's book stands at the very top of this list. Her focus, cochineal, is an extraordinary red dyestuff so aggressively coveted that in directed international trade and politics for centuries. The story that Butler Greenfield tells rests on an impressive mountain of scholarship that is hidden from the reader by wavy prose that carry us effortlessly between the colonial European powers and the locales in the West Indies and the Spanish Main where the cochineal beetle was cultivated. Even better however are the extensive notes and bibliography that are indeed available at the end of the book, aspects of popular history all too often omitted by publishers. HarperCollins should be congratulated for fully embracing the sources. Butler Greenfield is an excellent historian, an inspired writer, a natural story teller, and not a bad chemist either. A Perfect Red will be enjoyed by those who merely enjoy rip-roaring tales of conquest and piracy, as well as by those with a deeper interest in science and cultural history. It strikes a perfect balance between great fun and great learning. It has my highest recommendation.

Red is just a color; if we want a red shirt, red paint, or red curtains, we just go out and buy them, as we would articles of any other color. It may be that red is a special color, with associations of blood or anger or desire, but as a mere pigment, it isn't anything unusual. That was not the case in past centuries. In fact, red bankrolled the Spanish empire and prompted the growth of science at the expense of belief in an all-explaining Bible. It is surprising that a history can be written about a color, but in _A Perfect Red: Empire, Espionage, and the Quest for the Color of Desire_ (HarperCollins), Amy Butler Greenfield has opened up an extraordinary story, and one that still touches us today. It is the history of our interaction with Dactylopius coccus, an insect that parasitizes a particular cactus in tropical America, an insect better known as cochineal. It turns out to be one of the most important insects in history.

There were reds before the New World was discovered. Dyers and artists were able to make plants and minerals yield russets and orange-reds fairly easily, but real red cloth was hard to manufacture. A more vivid red could be made from insects, like oak-kermes, that could be killed with vinegar and steam, and packed up to sell to dyers the world over. The dyers didn't know it, but these insects contain what is now known as carminic acid, a powerful red dye. It is this dye that the cochineal insect has, too, but it is far more powerful and less fastened to troublesome lipids. The conquistadors saw the colors that were produced in cloth in the new world, and brought back the dye to Spain starting in 1519. By 1580, kermes reds were out and cochineal reds were in. Spain profited from many New World finds, but the new dye was a chief one. Even pirates were glad to rob Spanish galleons for it. Commercial espionage was involved in trying to transplant it to other colonies. Cochineal provided naturalists with a problem in classification. As they did with other New World novelties, Europeans tried to find categorical guidance from the Bible, but the book did not help settle the question of whether the little pellets from which the dye was made came from plants, animals, or even something in between (a "wormberry"). Classic writers didn't help, either. Greenfield discusses the microscopy of Leeuwenhoek and others which eventually helped settle the issue in a scientific way.

The cutthroat competition in cochineal ended when William Perkin invented his famous mauve dye from coal tar products in 1856, leading to a revolution in dye chemistry. The market for the insects collapsed, but never vanished. There are those who favor "natural dyes" (although this group has a subcategory of people who would not countenance killing even insects for them). Bakers used to use cochineal "to make the apple and the gooseberry outblush the cherry and the plum," and it still is used in candy, ice cream, lipstick, and much more. (Perhaps we are only squeamish about eating insects if they are whole.) The main supplier these days is Peru, but there is competition from other countries, among them the ones where the cloak-and-dagger operations had transplanted the cactus and insects centuries ago. Greenfield's detailed study casts a welcome rubicund light on in biology, history, fashion, chemistry, and world economics.

Amy B. Greenfield spoke at my local bookstore as this book was debuting, and boy is she, and her book, fabulous. She brought a jar of dried cochineal beetles to show everyone, as well as a half-dozen silk scarves she herself had dyed with cochineal. The four years of research she invested in this bewitching story are evident not only in the accuracy and thoroughness of her book, but in the riveting writing itself. She is clearly enamored of the subject, and seduces the reader into a shared state of fascination. _Red_ is without question the loveliest nonfiction I've read in years.

Red is such a common colour that we take it for granted. Red adorns the merchandise of Manchester United, Ferrari and a host of lesser brands - even our underwear. It also epitomised one of the dominant political ideologies of the 20th century - the "Reds", aka Communists.

It is difficult to accept that until relatively recently red was associated with wealth and power. Cost, and sometimes regulations, placed red clothing beyond the reach of most people.

In the 18th century the best red dye (cochineal) was a valuable and mysterious commodity - and a major import from the Spanish New World to Europe. Was cochineal a seed or an animal? The argument was finally settled as a result of a wager. Early microscopists such as Leeuwenhoek got involved on the side and the result was some of Leeuwenhoek's most exquisite drawings. These are reproduced in the book.

Another compelling story, with resonances in our own day, concerns the destruction of the cochineal industry by cheaper synthetic dyes in the 19th century. In 1870, Guatemala produced over 1.5 million pounds of cochineal a year, almost exclusively by small farmers using very labour intensive methods.

By 1890, Guatemalian farmers had virtualy ceased production. The same was true for the other major producers in Mexico and the Canary Islands. Such massive changes in an important industry led to major social and economic disruption. Modern trade practices often have similar effects in many poorer countries.

However, the story of cochineal does not end there, and has a slightly happier ending in the 20th century. But you will have to read the book to find out how.

I must admit to an addiction to this genre of books on the history of ordinary things. However, some of these books pad out a meagre story with marginally relevant material. "A Perfect Red" does not fall into this category.

Today the advertising industry still imbues red with a sense of power, unconsciously harking back to the days when cochineal was the most powerful red of them all.

Mrs. Greenfield (seems like she should be a Redfield) has written a wonderful example of how popular history should be written. She has an eye for the telling detail yet gets the big picture, and skillfully weaves the anecdotal with the grand. Her exposition of the importance that textiles, and by association, coloring dyes influenced post-Renaissance Europeans in their quest for wealth is a must-read for anyone interested in social or technological history. I would have liked to hear more about the color red aside from cochineal, and she does provide some of that, but not to the extent of, say, "Blue - The History of a Color." Conspicuously, since she is a redhead herself, she does not delve into the myths and stigmas associated with carrottops. Perhaps she will follow up her charming tome with a more detailed description of my favorite color.

This book is both informative and entertaining, it reads like a novel and if you want more information, the notes, which are hidden on the last pages, give access to a thorough academic research. But this is not ONLY and academic book. Cochineal is present even in the irresistible red of Campari and has been used by Renaissance masters and Mexican artisans since time immemorial to this very day. Highly recommended.

Rebeccasreads highly recommends A PERFECT RED as a lovely saga that reads like a thriller with tons of quirky history, insider insights & a broad view of merchants, explorers, national politics & major blunders in a world we rarely think about -- the empires, secrets & societies of cloth dyers.

With luscious color plates illustrating the progression of the reds artists down the ages have used, we follow the trail to a minute bug which lives on one specific plant in one specific spot on earth, & the race to possess them, & their secrets.

Along the way, you will learn about how colors & empires are "made", & how fortunes are lost.

Some of the best stories are the histories of everyday objects that few ever consider. This book is an example of such a story. It traces the history of the color red; specifically, it examines the sources of red dye sought by humans over the past 700 years. Something as simple as a color can actually be quite difficult to obtain without the marvels of modern technology. This book starts of at the Venetian textile guilds of the late Middle Ages and shows the reader the state of the world's textile industry. Of all the colors, bright red is hardest to produce on clothing, and individuals and governments devote a lot of time and effort to procure new sources. Many are found, but the best one is carminic acid found in the insect cochineal, native to the Americas, and cultivated in Mexico specifically to obtain the color red. Starting with the Spanish conquest, red dye from Mexico is exported to the rest of the world, and four centuries of trade wars and political intrigue follow. The book lays all this out in chronological order, citing places, people, governments and institutions. But eventually, man's technology caught up with nature's bounty, and by 1900, synthetic red dyes destroy the cochineal cultivation industry. All the ensuing technical advances, scientific discoveries, and commercial contests are detailed clearly by the author. The book ends with a survey of the dye industry at the end of the 20th century, and a review of how red dye has influenced, and been influenced by fashion tastes throughout the centuries. This book touches many countries, and ties in history, economics, fashion, politics and science into a wonderful tale of man's obsession for a specific color.

Sorry if the title of the review sounds a little buggy, but this book tells the fascinating story of how a dye derived from a tiny insect affected both ancient and emerging empires. Domesticated by the Aztecs for use as a coloring agent, the cochineal insect (Dactylopius coccus) was a frail species of scale that fed on the nopal cactus. The Spanish conquistadors that invaded Mexico in the 1500's initially were ignorant of the huge economic impact that cochineal dye could have for them personally and for the Spanish empire but Spanish merchants eventually made cochineal one of the dominant economic exports from the New World. The secrecy surrounding cochineal production and the frail nature of the insect kept the highly desired dye in the hands of the Spanish empire until the nineteenth century when Mexican independence and exports of insects to a couple of countries with favorable growing conditions caused the loss of the monopoly. In the interim, the huge demand for the dye resulted in significant international conflict and intrigue. The market for cochineal collapsed after the Germans patented red dyes derived from coal tar chemistry but its legacy lives on. For example, Rembrandt's "The Jewish Bride" was painted with cochineal pigment instead of paints such as Alizarin crimson that have largely supplanted it. The author is to be highly commended for the quality of the scholarship and the excellent writing.

This book is one of the very best I have seen in a long time. The author has taken great care to present historically correct and detailed information about the long history of cochineal farming, and sale of this commodity (dried beetles that can be processed to create a brilliant hue of red).
She reveals all of the intrigue of Spain's royalty, as they sought to keep this much prized product of New Spain exclusively for the Spanish empire. Even Perkin's discovery of the color "mauve" is discussed. This book will find broad interest among scholars and the general public. It is certainly a book worth owning, if you love the history of textiles.

Patricia Cummings