Enemy of Rome by Leonard Cottrell (Pan, 1962)

Another paperback from The Green Shed:

In May, 218 B.C., Hannibal of Carthage set out from Spain with over 100,000 troops--the most tremendous fighting force assembled since the days of Alexander the Great.

His destination--Rome.  His aim--the destruction of its great empire.

So began an immortal campaign that lasted sixteen fierce and bloody years...revealed Hannibal as an inspired military genius...and culminated in a battle of giants which was to decide the fate of European civilisation.

 It's an epic story all right--so why is the cover so bloody dull?

I mean, it was a military campaign that abounded in such picturesque things as Roman legions, Gaulish warriors fighting "naked to the navel", the Alps, pitched battles and elephants--and the best the cover artist could do was squeeze a few of these into the background?  You have to look very carefully even to see the elephants!

0/10 for your cover design, Pan.  0/10!

Tibetan Journey by George N. Patterson (Readers Book Club, 1956)

Someone must have taken a keen interest in Tibet, around 1956.  I found this in the Green Shed along with Seven Years in Tibet:

When the Chinese Communists broke into Tibet, George N. Patterson was engaged in missionary work there--a labor of love.  He had to leave in a hurry, and, for vitally important reasons, made a dash for India.  Yet, despite the urgency of his Tibetan Journey - which maintains a throb of excitement all through the book - the author succeeds in presenting a magnificent picture of a superb, secretive and little-known land, with its hair-raising perils, strange customs, and tough, quaint, "earthy" people.

It's strange to think that Tibet is now a tourist destination!  This book was written when travelling to Tibet was the Real Deal--something that only the most hardy and the most adventurous would undertake.  It's not a romantic account of the country (indeed, the author expresses scorn for the "Shangri-La" fantasies some people have about Tibet).  It makes no bones about describing the hardship and poverty the author encountered.  However--and this is Tibetan Journey's best feature--the author never treats any of the people he meets as anything less than individuals.  The book's blurb may describe the Tibetans as "quaint", the author most certainly does not!

Seven Years in Tibet by Heinrich Harrer (Pan, 1956)

A rather battered copy of the classic travel book, found in a corner of the Green Shed:

 

SEVEN YEARS IN TIBET has been described as 'the greatest travel book of our time'.  Yet even this comendation does not do justice to the unique experiences which it unfolds.  No European has ever before penetrated into that inaccessible land in such strange circumstances, or has succeeded in staying there so long.  Heinrich Harrer, well known Austrian mountaineer and Olympic ski-ing champion, was climbing in the Himalayas when caught by the outbreak of war, and was interned by the British in India.  With a companion, he escaped at his third attempt and crossed the Himalayas into Tibet.  After many desolate marches and strange adventures, they reached the Forbidden City of Lhasa, where they were eventually allowed to remain and earn a living.  They found the traditional insularity of Tibet leavened with a new appetite for Western knowledge and ideas.  Their fame quickly spread.  Soon they were in great demand as advisers on many subjects on which they knew little.  The day came when Harrer was presented to the young Dalai Lama, the god-king; he became the boy's friend and tutor and was permitted a degree of intimacy which awed the people and worried the religious hierarchy.  After the War's end, Harrer stayed on, but when Communist China invaded Tibet he accompanied the Dalai Lama in flight to India, and then returned sadly to Europe.  His remarkable account of his experiences is illustrated with a number of his fine photographs.  A film of this book has been made by Seven League Productions, with Harrer himself playing the chief part.

There's really not a lot I can add to this detailed description--except Seven Years in Tibet was made into a movie again in 1997, this time starring Brad Pitt.

A History of Courting by E.S. Turner (Pan, 1958)

Down deep in hell there let them dwell
and bundle on that bed
Then turn and roll without control
Till all their lusts are fed.

That was how they did it in America in the 18th century.  Bundling it was called.  Not as naughty as it sounds.

In Moscow in 1952 they courted quite differently.  It went like this: The boy was a collective farmer, and the girl a tractor driver working on the same night-shift.  Sighed the girl: 'How wonderful it is to work on such a beautiful night under the full moon and do one's utmost to save petrol!'  Exclaimed the boy: 'The night inspires me to over-fulfill my quota by a higher and still higher percentage.'  Later he admitted: 'I fell in love with your working achievement from the very first moment.

There's no end to the different methods employed in this enchanting game, practised by nearly all of us some time or another.

You'll love this book.  It's instructive.  It's fascinating!

Here we have a very decorous couple from the 1950s looking at a picture of a not-so-decorous couple from an earlier era.  It all seems a bit too clean-cut and peachy keen to be true: surely the 1950s was the era of making out in drive-ins and in the back seats of cinemas?

The answer is, it was, and this book is happy to record it.  It also discusses--yes!--bundling, along with valentines, chaperones, flappers and a thousand and one other elements of courtship in days gone by.  And of course it also has fun with the thoughts of various "experts" on love, marriage and morals through the centuries.

4000 Years Under the Sea by Philippe Diolé (Pan, 1957)

The fascinating pursuit of undersea archaeology has been much developed in recent years.  In this book Philippe Diolé , who wrote The Undersea Adventure, tells enthusiastically of 'free diving' experiences off the coasts of Southern France and North Africa.  He shows that the rewards are not won without a hard struggle.  A sunk ship laden with statues or wine-jars may be located; but it will be buried under a dozen feet of oozy mud.  A statue may be so encrusted with molluscs or overgrown with sea vegetation as to be unrecognisable.  To expose the walls of a Roman villa lying beneath the Mediterranean, divers worked four years, lifting first a top layer of sand, next a clay deposit thirty inches deep, and finally digging into pebbles and mud.  By linking the discoveries with history, M. Diolé gives fascinating information about seamanship, trade, wines and the spread of cultures in antiquity.