Archaeology is important to me. I just love it when it permeates everyday culture. It is a justification in my mind of its significance as an artefact, itself contributing to the way we live now.

I am always happy to come across novels that use archaeology as a cornerstone of their narrative, and I have read some good ones recently. I find that popular fiction provides a great mirror through which to view contemporary lives. So finding archaeology as a motif, is (to me) a signal that it counts. I am even happier to see that the individual authors I have been reading each have their own, very different, ways of using archaeology. I’m not talking about depictions of history or prehistory here, there are plenty of those, rather I am talking about work that makes use of the practice of archaeology.

Not surprisingly, the representation of our profession and its concerns varies considerably across the genre. Two books, in particular, stand out for their contrasting views. One account is positively dystopian, a consideration of the imagined conflict that could result when the outcome of archaeological endeavour has been to question the given wisdom of political and religious authority. It is a bleak prospect. The other muses on the world of those who interpret the past (in this case the Iron Age), to inspire reflections on life as lived today. It is not exactly utopian, there are thoughts on violence, hunger, cold, and loneliness, but it is certainly a much gentler narrative.

It would be hard to find such good examples of polar opposites and I am cheered to see that our discipline can be perceived as so well rounded. Indeed, my experience continues. In addition to some well-research police procedural series, there are novels that revolve around research design and academic teams, novels that use an excavation as their backdrop, and novels inspired by experimental recreation. Of course, they are not always perfect in the fictitious details that they set out, and the quality of the plot can vary (though I have enjoyed all I list here). But, in a way, these flaws merely provide a useful signpost to gaps in the information that we put out. If an author has not picked up on the vagaries of treasure trove regulations or finds reporting, when Iron Age farmers are called hunter-gatherers, surely those provide a reflection of inherent weaknesses in the material people have to hand. It is up to us to make sure that we spread accurate information about our profession as far and wide as we can. And make it as accessible and as wide ranging as possible. Regular readers of this blog will know that I am as passionate about popular dissemination as I am about academic publication.

I do get asked for help with fiction. And, where possible, I try to give it, or at least suggest alternative sources of information. It is easy to be snobbish about some of the projects that others embark upon. But if we don’t help out then we have no right to criticise when we don’t like the final version or find that an author has incorporated inaccuracy. Of course, assistance does not always guarantee the final outcome, but at least we can say that we have tried.

There are, I know, many examples of authors who have played with the ideas that we call archaeology – I’ve listed below some that I find readable and fun. They make you think. If you are interested, I recommend that you hunt them out. Enjoy!

Booklist (I’m not going to tell you which is which from my text above – I will leave you to judge them for yourself).

Robert Harris: The Second Sleep

Sarah Maine: Women of the Dunes

Anne Youngson: Meet Me at the Museum

Penelope Lively: Treasures of Time

SarahMoss: Ghost Wall

Barry Unsworth: Land of Marvels

Elly Griffiths: The Ruth Galloway series (read them in order)

Kate Ellis: the Wesley Peterson series (read in order)

Rob Swigart: Stone Mirror

Anne Cleeves: Shetland detective Jimmy Perez is no stranger to local archaeology

Ian Rankin: Inspector Rebus has occasionally encountered archaeologists in Edinburgh

John Preston: The Dig

Enjoy!

I was recently asked to review a book on Neolithic Orkney for our local paper, The Orcadian, and, while there is a great online version, it occurred to me that it might be of interest to those who read the blog so, with kind permission of Sigurd Towrie, the editor, I am posting it here.

Art and Architecture in Neolithic Orkney: Process, Temporality and Context.

Antonia Thomas. Archaeopress. 2016 (available in hard copy or as an ebook)

We are all used to reading media snippets about amazing structures and spectacular artefacts from Orkney’s Neolithic past. How refreshing therefore to have a whole book devoted to one aspect in detail. Even more exciting: a book that takes information from our newest and most enigmatic site at Ness of Brodgar, and puts it into context with information from two of our oldest sites: Skara Brae and Maeshowe. Finally, and the icing on the cake, it is readable.

Art and Architecture in Neolithic Orkney is a handsome volume; it is well illustrated and clearly set out. It is designed to be read from cover to cover but in fact there is a lot of detail here and it also makes for an excellent ‘dipping’ book. The main thrust, as you might guess, is to provide an overview of the amazing suite of decorated stones found within the structures of Neolithic Orkney through detailed studies of these three key sites. Within each site, particular case studies are set out.

It is a comprehensive piece of work, taking us first through a history of the archaeological study of art, and then providing a brief guide to the Neolithic art of Britain and Ireland. This helps to put Orkney art into context, though one cannot help wondering, given the thoroughness of the present research and the ephemeral nature of many of the pieces recorded, whether decorated stones might be underrepresented outside of Orkney. Many of the pieces here were unknown before Thomas’ research.

We are led deeper into a fascinating detailed consideration of the individual sites. With regard to Skara Brae and Ness of Brodgar a wealth of useful material is provided, including up-to-date breakdowns of the architectural remains and stratigraphy. Even for Maeshowe, a site which you might think had been well published in all its glory, Thomas finds angles and information that have not been presented before.

After this is it time for some serious discussion and analysis. In common with archaeological thought today, Thomas has moved far beyond the old-fashioned ‘Art Historical’ approach and even beyond the ‘Technological/Functional’ approach that was all the rage when I graduated. You won’t find an explanation of ‘meaning’, nor detailed discussions of manufacture, but hopefully any disappointment will be assuaged by learning new ways of thinking about the pieces. Rather than focusing on possible interpretations of Neolithic Art as a sort of code from the past, Thomas teaches us to consider the ways in which it was used and how it may have functioned as part of everyday life.

This is done through three different examinations: first, the processes of incorporating material into Neolithic structures; second, the lifespan (often brief) of art as a visible element; and third the wider context of community and identity in Neolithic Orkney. We are never going to know exactly what the makers of the ‘Brodgar Butterfly’ or the Skara Brae Lozenges meant by them, just as we don’t know what Leonardo intended to convey in the Mona Lisa’s smile, or Banksy with his graffiti. But we can start to think about the roles that these pieces of art played in relationship to their surroundings and those who frequented them.

In this way, Thomas has identified very specific and differing forms of creation and deposition. For me perhaps the most surprising elements are the ways in which design appears to be less important than creation, and existence more important than visibility. Is this indeed ‘art’ as we understand it? Only in the way in which a hidden tattoo or plasterer’s doodle might be so defined.

There is a lot to take in. There is a lot to think about. It is a book that will linger and enrich any exploration of the remains of Neolithic Orkney. The ‘art’ itself is just wonderful, it was clearly an integral part of the lives of our Neolithic ancestors. I can’t help a slight regret that I’m still so far from ‘reading’ it, but I now know so much more about those who tramped the passages and halls of the past. I’m happy.

The book is based on Antonia Thomas’ PhD thesis (itself an exemplary piece of work I am told), and she has done an impressive job, not just in completing the thesis but in producing a publication less than a year after attaining her doctorate. It marks the inauguration of the Archaeology Institute’s Research Publications, judging by the ongoing projects in the Institute one can only wait with excitement for the next volumes in the series. Meanwhile, if you have an interest in the lives of those who lived and farmed in Orkney five thousand years ago, I urge you to go out and buy it.