Geoffrey Moorhouse (1931–2009)

Like many introverts, I’ve always thought a secluded, monkish lifestyle would be preferable to the loud people-stew in which public school immersed me. When I was learning world history in school, I admired the monks in the scriptoriums. I’ve seen Ireland in films that assure me the mainland and its islands are stunning. Few of these landscapes compare to the sheer rock faces sweeping out of the North Atlantic Ocean on Skellig Michael.

Moorhouse examines the medieval monastery on this show more remote rock in an uncommon format. Since we know little to nothing about the individuals who lived and worshiped there for hundreds of years, Moorhouse uses his research to develop seven stories. The first is set in 588 (or thereabouts), when the first monks landed on the island. They continue throughout the centuries, ending in 1222 when he estimates the inhabitants abandoned the island permanently. His stories are surreal. The strangeness of their outlook only matched the hardships the monks faced. To a person in the 21st century, they seem pretty odd.

In the second half of the book, Moorhouse explains the research he used to create the stories in short essays. He bases everything on his findings about Viking raids, monastery practices, and Irish culture at the time. The result is a fascinating mosaic that helps readers immerse themselves in the time and the place. As a result, he convinced me that my years of romanticizing this life were misguided.

While it’s not your typical history book, I would highly recommend Sun Dancing to anyone interested in the history of Ireland, Celtic Christianity, or Medieval history. show less

Geoffrey Moorhouse was never anything less than readable; at times, his writing is sublime. In this volume he travels to Pakistan, hoping to reach as close to the border with Afghanistan as possible. Given that these were the years of the mujahideen, that would prove no easy task. His survey of Pakistan in the 1980s is an illuminating read; there are places where Moorhouse, worried by the zealous excesses of the Islamic government, makes dire predictions for the future of the country, and show more for the most part these have come true. Where they have not, it is simply because Moorhouse was too optimistic. show less

Every city must surely have its story, its history, but making that story feel so compelling is something few writers can achieve. Geoffrey Moorhouse was one such writer, and this book about the first Australian city is captivating from beginning to end as a result.

A worthwhile book on a subject that hasn't reached (or had not yet reached) a general appreciation. Moorhouse tells us the story of Irish monasticism by taking the extreme example of the anchorites who chose to worship and glorify God on the bitterly harsh conditions of Skellig Michael, a rugged island off the Kerry Coast.
Because the historical detail of the monastery's existence is sparse, Moorhouse, in the first part, imagines and reconstructs a competent account of what is recorded about show more the life of the community, which endured (and this is indeed the right word) from the Sixth until the Thirteenth Centuries.
The second part looks at the evidence for and about traditional Irish monasticism. This review gives space to the unique Irish form of Christianity which found no difficulties in absorbing original Celtic mythology with the new religion and so the adoption of such ideas as exile, worship of nature and tribal affiliation were second nature.
Moorhouse makes the point that outside influences slowly eroded the unique character of hermetic monastic life. Firstly, the raiding Vikings, but more effectively, the Church at Rome began reforming and codifying monastic structures throughout the Christian world. It was these less rigorous regimes, as well as the supersession of the bishopric over the abbey that would bring about a reappraisal of what was meant by dedicating one's life to Christ.
Three cheers for Geoffrey Moorhouse - the world is a better place for his brilliant writing.
(I hadn't realised that Moorhouse had lived a while in New Zealand. He was a newspaper man for the Grey River Argus, a provincial paper that closed in 1966.) show less