Blue Latitudes: Boldly Going Where Captain Cook Has Gone Before

Dates Covered: 1700 - 1800
ISBN: 0805065415
HH Rating:

Our Take

For those of you unfamiliar with the travels of James Cook, he was quite possibly the most prolific discoverer in history. With stoic fortitude he sailed the high seas and is responsible for introducing much of Polynesia, New Zealand and Australia to the western world. Whether this was for better or worse is a highly debated point, and one discussed at some length in this remarkably enjoyable book.

Tony Horwitz has written for The Wall Street Journal and the New Yorker Magazine, and has published a previous novel "Confederates in the Attic", which we're rather looking forward to reading next.

In this book, he follows the adventures of Cook across the globe, from the Pacific to Australia, his home in North Yorkshire, to the icy wastes of Alaska and to the site of Cook's ultimate and dramatic demise, Hawaii (you'll just have to read the book to find out more about that). He's accompanied on much of this journey by friend and sardonic wit Roger - himself an expat Yorkshireman, living in Australia.

Horwitz liberally peppers this travelogue cum history text with excerpts from the diaries of Cook and a variety of hoary seamen, drawing comparisons between their first impressions and his own, and we acutely feel the legacy of western contact in pristine cultures. But it's in the accounts of Cook and his crew that we get real insight into the true character of these adventurers. Cook is dry and saturnine, unemotionally charting islands, commenting on the wind, or the local topography. The ship's botanist, a gentleman explorer sent along to collect plant and animal samples by the name of Joseph Banks, on the other hand, is considerably spicier, quite an incorrigible libertine, and his salacious commentary on the charms and morality of the indigenous beauties he encounters is certainly an eye opener, particularly for those who remember him best for pottering about with a handful of cuttings, and naming the Banksia.

Horwitz also interviews a variety of amateur historians, museum owners, old sea captains and some extremely seedy local characters. He also partakes in some even seedier festivals:

We decided to save our strength for the rest of the weekend... The next morning, drinking coffee in front of our motel room, we watched as guests emerged on either side of us and opened beers. "Starting early, eh?" Roger said jovially to the couple beside us, as they drained their breakfast. The man looked at Roger strangely. Then, glancing at his watch, he said, "Mate, it's already nine o'clock."

Attitudes toward Cook differ greatly across cultures. The English worship him; the Polynesians hate him, largely because they see him as the precursor of their cultural destruction. Disease, corruption and prostitution followed in his wake. Ironically, it's Cook's own meticulous documentation of local custom that is now being used by many indigenous groups to rediscover their cultural roots. And while Horwitz does lean slightly toward the biographers vice of idolizing his protagonist, he generally offers an even-handed opinion of Cook and the horrors that followed his arrival in the Pacific.

This book is reminiscent of some of Bill Bryson's tales, written with both wit and sensitivity. The research is thorough, the style very likable. There's nary a dull moment in this surprisingly readable book as it deftly manoeuvres through the rise and fall of one of the world's last great explorers.

We Interviewed The Author

Victoria, our fearless Australian correspondant, reviewed Blue Latitudes and liked it so much she asked to interview the author. Tony graciously agreed -- the interview is reproduced below.

Firstly, why James Cook? What is it about him that led you to undertake this book rather than, say, Magellan, or Columbus?

Cook's story is wonderfully accessible. He and his men left vivid journals about their voyages, and they write in plain English that's strikingly modern. As products of the Enlightenment, they valued reason and clear-eyed observation-they were, effectively, the first scientific explorers, and Cook's passengers included trained observers: botanists, linguists, artists, and astronomers.

But they're also, for the most part, passionate young men having the adventure of a lifetime, so they write as well about their terror at sea, their wonder at the uninhibited women of the South Pacific, their tattoos and drunkenness and duels at sea. It's hard to find that degree of color, immediacy, and generally reliable detail in the accounts of earlier exploring expeditions. While reading the words of Cook and his men, I was often reminded of Lewis and Clark, who modelled their journals on Cook's, and had similarly rich encounters with native peoples untouched by the West. This is the sort of journey we simply can't take today.

You make an observation in the book that the Yorkshire folk love Cook, while the Polynesians generally despise him. Do you think that being from the US gave you a more objective perspective on Cook?

Yes. I didn't come to this story with ideological baggage. To Yorkshire folk, Cook's a local hero who helped build the British Empire. To many Polynesians, he's seen as the first agent of everything bad that's happened to them since: disease, dispossession, the destruction of native culture and belief. I wanted to rescue Cook from these two extremes. While I certainly admire the man, I think it's important to recognize his flaws, and also the considerable damage done in his wake.

Of the discoveries you made about Cook, what was the most surprising?

Cook's personal story is stunning, particularly in the context of Britain's class-ridden 18th century society. His background couldn't have been more pinched or provincial. He was born in a mud-and-thatch hovel, to illiterate farm laborers, and had almost no formal education. Yet he clawed his way up the ranks of the Navy, explored more of the earth's surface than any man in history, and won the highest award from the elite intellectual establishment of his day, the Royal Society. Cook's a bit like Abe Lincoln, a self-made, once-in-a-generation prodigy who comes out of nowhere to transform his world and ours.

Like Lincoln, he's also a tragic figure. After his second Pacific voyage, he was a famous man, in his mid-forties, with a family and the offer of a comfortable retirement. But he forsakes this for yet another voyage, during which he falls apart, physically and psychologically, and brings on the skirmish in Hawaii that ends with his violent death. All of his six children die young-two of them at sea--leaving his widow, Elizabeth, who lived to the age of 93. Cook's achievements were also overshadowed, at least initially, by the American Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars. As a result, I think he's been relatively neglected when compared to naval heroes such as Horatio Nelson. And few Americans know much about him, even though he 'discovered' Hawaii, explored Alaska, and filled in the blank between the West Coast and Asia, blazing a sea trail for American whalers, missionaries, and exploring expeditions. That's one reason I wanted to write this book.

Do you think the outcomes of Cook's "discovery" of Polynesia would have been different if someone else had found it first?

Yes. First of all, Cook was an unusually humane man who tried to prevent violence and the spread of disease. He didn't always succeed, but he certainly did less damage than many of the ruthless conquistadors and gold-mad explorers who sailed the high seas in the centuries before him. Also, as I mentioned above, Cook's ships were filled with trained observers, so we have a remarkable snapshot, in words and drawings and artefacts, of what life was like in the Pacific at the moment of European contact. If whalers or traders or privateers had reached these islands first, we simply wouldn't have that kind of record.

What was the hardest part of the journey you took to complete this book? What did you enjoy the most?

The hardest part, in terms of my own journey, was working aboard a replica of Cook's first ship, the Endeavour. I'm not a mariner, in fact I become seasick and knot-impaired whenever I step on a boat. So it was a challenge, to say the least, to find myself atop the 127-foot main mast, in heavy seas, trying to furl sails. It was like lifting weights while being shaken from the top of a very tall tree. I also didn't relish trying to sleep in a 14-inch-wide hammock in the stifling hold with forty other sailors. I certainly came away with an appreciation of how brave and tough Cook and his men were, and how soft we've become by comparison. And I didn't have to battle scurvy, eat weevil-ridden biscuits, or use the "seats of ease," the holed planks thrust over the bow in Cook's day. The replica has marine toilets.

The most enjoyable part was losing myself in archives in Sydney, London and other cities, reading the vast trove of material relating to Cook's voyages. Even though Cook's story has been told before, I found there was still a great deal to discover and reinterpret. Just the other day, a rare letter in Cook's hand was found stuck in the back of a picture frame in an estate in Norfolk. And I had the thrill of helping uncover the existence of an arrow in the basement of a Sydney museum that's allegedly made from Cook's leg bone. Tests are now being conducted to determine if it's really his. So the book's by no means closed on Cook.

There seems to be a lot of very interesting and well written historical books on the market today. Do you think that there's been a new fascination with history amongst the general population? If so, what do you think has triggered this? If not, why not?

There does seem to be a deeper and broader interest in history at the moment, but I'm not sure there are any easy answers as to why. One reason, I think, is that writers are returning to more popular, narrative history, and stories focused on individuals, after a long period during which the field was strongly influenced by post-modern, post-colonial scholars engaged in arcane debate about "texts," "signifiers," and "counter-narratives." We'd lost sight of the big picture and human drama of history.

Perhaps, too, the turn of the millennium and the events of Sept. 11 have made us all more aware of history and our place in it. Americans have always been very forward-looking, and, too often, amnesiac about the past. The new fascination with history may be a sign that we're maturing as a culture. On a more banal note, success breeds imitation. Publishing, like many aspects of American life, is very trend-driven. When writers and publishers see books such as David McCullough's "John Adams" shoot to the top of the bestseller list, they start casting around for other stories that might do the same.

Who's your favourite author? Why?

There's not really one author I can point to. With historical writing, I tend to admire authors who combine great research with provocative and original insight. Simon Schama and Robert Hughes are two who come to mind, though neither of them makes for easy reading. Stephen Ambrose occupies the opposite extreme: he may not be the most original historian, and holes have been poked in his research, but he's hard to beat in terms of a great read. I also like Giles Milton, who is somewhere in between.

In more of a travel vein, I think Jonathan Raban is the best nonfiction author writing in English today (he's also a novelist). Raban combines wit, erudition, and sparkling prose in a way that can often take your breath away. "Old Glory" is probably my favorite of his many fine books. But at bedtime I mostly read fiction. My favorite novelists tend to be gritty American realists like Russell Banks, or British writers such as A.S. Byatt, Barry Unsworth, and Ian McEwan, all of whom write gripping stories that also explore big, dark themes.

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