Without really meaning to I’ve become relatively familiar with the life and doings of Alexander the Great. He — whether as a main character or an essential secondary character — featured in any number of historical novels I picked up as a kid (e.g. Mary Renault’s books) and over the following decades. Most recently I read Steven Pressfield’s The Afghan Campaign. And in the course of studying history I’ve gone over his campaigns, battles, and political struggles. I even watched the Oliver Stone biopic. “Gaugamela”, “Issus”, “Chaeronea”, etc. are words I have at least some passing familiarity with (even if the auto-correct feature of WordPress does not.)
With that background I was comfortable picking up Harold Lamb’s Alexander of Macedon. I’ve been wanting to read more Lamb anyway. If you swim in the waters of Sword & Sorcery you’ve probably encountered Harold Lamb’s name. Robert E. Howard was a fan, which should tell you enough. The recently departed Howard Jones was also a notable fan, having edited the Bison Books editions of Lamb collections. And I know he was as at least as interested in history as I am, if not more so. During the course of our brief email correspondence (perhaps a few dozen back-and-forths over a couple of years), he referred in a few messages to his love of history and the pseudo-historical fantasy he was working on (in one email revealed as the Hanuvar series.) Given that what I was selling him was also a pseudo-historical fantasy, I was certainly in full accord with that confluence of interests. So purchasing this book was also, in a way, a form of “pouring one out” for Howard, though I can make no claim to any acquaintance or friendship.
The book itself did not disappoint, offering somewhat of a counterpoint to other, more hero-worshipping portrayals. Though at its core a rigorously researched biography, it contains touches of a fiction-writer’s flair. Lamb took pains to write from Alexander’s view point, speculating convincingly on his motivations and thought-processes, rather than dryly assembling the fragmentary historical record into a chronological narrative. (In that fashion, Alexander of Macedon— as well as Lamb’s other historical works, from all accounts — may disappoint readers looking for strict adherence to primary sources, eschewing any imaginative leaps.) Lamb didn’t write a hagiography, not shying away from Alexander’s mistakes, acts of apparent madness, etc. He creates the full portrait, the admirable and the despicable. It is a portrait of a young man irresistibly pulled to uncover the grand mysteries. Lamb writes:
“It has been said that Alexander felt driven to fulfill his destiny. Perhaps he journeyed on to discover if destiny existed. Was there, in fact, upon the earth’s surface evidence of the presence of the gods? Did men, in truth, carry out a will superior to their own? Or was the Immovable Mover remote and unseen — merely the source of universal energy, of atomic action? And did mankind then progress only by its own efforts, toward enlightenment or toward beastliness?”
My only criticism is a lack of maps. I like to trace routes, pinpoint battle sites, visually mark locations. If my library wasn’t boxed up in anticipation of selling Casa Lizzi, I could just break out the Atlas or peruse some other volume from the history section of my shelves. But even so, it is more convenient to have the information contained in the book in hand. That’s a minor point and more than compensated for by the depth of detail and pains Lamb took to place events in context and provide possible reasons for the actions of the vast cast of characters encountered over the course of Alexander’s staggeringly long journeys. The Afterword itself is worth the price of the book: several pages devoted to considering the grand picture, the aftermath and historical impact of Alexander.
Recommended. Also, because I like money and I hope you like entertainment, I recommend buying something of mine.