It's a big, heavy book, ambitious in scope, yet so carefully organized and clearly-written as to be remarkably persuasive. In the first sentence, the author admits that it's a book he'd always wanted to write, even before he realised it. That's entirely plausible. We can readily imagine that he'd wanted to find a coherence in cultural patterns among those diverse people that live in those diverse lands that "face the ocean," that is, the Atlantic Ocean. For decades, he conducted original research, sifted through evidence, built arguments, identified relevant works by other scholars, located wonderful maps and illustrative charts and drawings and photographs to support the idea, assembling material from Greenland, Iceland, the Faroes, Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England, France, Spain and the west coast of Africa. The study brings evidence to bear dating from about 8000 BC to AD 1500 ad. In short, it's vast. I'd contend that it tests the boundaries of what a monograph -- a book on a single subject -- can be.
And yet it almost has to have such weight and scope in order to make this kind of argument. The idea of a coherence among certain cultures also demands some attention to the "edges" of that culture, the differences from other neighbouring or related cultures. The simplifying image comes, again, at the very beginning of the book: ancient poetic images in ancient literature of the Mediterranean area conjure up a space "beyond the sea," beyond what is, or can be known, an imagined place. These are the waters beyond the Pillars of Hercules -- or in contemporary parlance, the strait of Gibraltar. And in some very complex way, the tension between Mediterranean civilization and the lands that face the Atlantic persists through the book. A reader might be forgiven for supposing it to be a longer, larger history of Europe, one that asks how a complex of continents and islands forged its own identity, quite distinct from the civilizations of the Middle East. The designation "Celtic" comes up fairly often, and is treated here with caution -- not because it's wrong, but because it has enough different meanings at this point that it can become very confusing.
Was there, or was there not an "Atlantic identity? It is not the kind of question that can really be settled. Rather it's the kind of question that builds a possible context around a tremendous amount of diverse information, proposes unsuspected connections and opens up new questions -- How did that beautiful Latin inscription come to rest in a site in northern Cornwall datable -- securely -- to the late 5th century ad? Whatever happened, it clearly did not happen in isolation, in any case. The entire book concerns movement -- travel, trade, exploration and adaptation. Nor is there very much about armed conquest. Change seems invariably to have been coupled with exchange -- of materials, objects, technologies and ideas.
A reader determined to plough through page by page, in order, is likely to find it daunting. It switches, say, from details of shipbuilding to data from archaeological digs, reconstructions of ancient sites to estimates of geological change, all pinned in some way to the idea of an emerging cultural identity. On almost any given page, though, a reader will find something familiar -- the shape of a shoreline, the name of the city or river -- positioned in a very unfamiliar and thought-provoking context. This is history that isn't very tidy or finished, but wonderfully speculative, open, adept at finding its way into a reader's present.