I began reading A Sensory History of Ancient Warfare: Reconstructing the Physical Experience of War in the Classical World with some anticipation. The notion of exploring ancient battlefields by engaging the five primary senses is an intriguing one, and I was curious how author Conor Whately would accomplish it.

Well, he doesn't. Not really. Instead, he gives a good summary of several battles, their causes and primary combatants, then makes some educated guesses about what people there might have seen, heard, smelled, tasted or touched while there. Very little of what he suggests is unique to the battles in question, and my senses didn't feel engaged at all.

The book is divided into six chapters: The Greek World: The Battle of Cinaxa (401 BCE) and The Battle of Issus (333 BCE); The Roman World: The Battle of Cannae (216 BCE) and The Sieges of Jerusalem (70 CE) and Masada (72-74 CE); and Late Antiquity: The Battle of Strasbourg (357 CE) and The Siege of Edessa (544 CE).

Unfortunately, much of the information presented here is ridiculously vague, and Whately seems to be grasping at straws to make hazy assumptions about the senses.

While it might seem to go without saying that taste and smell, as manifested through a need for water, and sight, as manifested through deciding to camp in positions that afforded clear views of the vicinity, might seem obvious....

Or...

Nevertheless, we have every reason to suppose that whatever sound it might have been, it would have had an impact on those both making and hearing the sound....

Whately notes in the chapter about Cannae that bullets, hurled by slings at up to 100 mph, were made with tiny holes that created a "terrifying" whistle while flying through the air. He then admits that "we don't know what sort of bullets were used" at the battle currently being discussed ... so why bring them up in this context? He then notes that, "during idle moments, and in the heat of battle, you were likely to have heard a cacophony of voices speaking if not many languages, at least a few."

Well, yeah, but what about that obvious fact is relevant to this particular battle? Why bring it up specifically at Cannae? Later, still in that same chapter, he brings up the sense of touch.

While there were any number of potential tactile experiences in a pitched battle like Cannae, from the feel of a weapon to the weight of the armour, the one I want to focus on here is the touching of man against man in the compression of an ancient battle formation.

He then admits that historians know very little about the specifics of the battle formations at Cannae, or how much space would have been between soldiers, but "we can say, however, that the tactile experience of a battle formation would have had an impact on those involved, and it would have changed depending on the circumstances." That seems like both an obvious and unhelpful statement. Basically, "we don't know, but people probably touched other people in some way, and that way would be different depending on the situation."

Whately also likens Cannae to Gettysburg, a much later battle during the American Civil War, largely because they were both large conflicts that left many dead in their wake. "Just as the battlefield at Gettysburg would have been littered with the swelling corpses of men and horses, so too would this have been the case at Cannae." I'm curious, what battlefield where men and horses died -- of which there are many throughout history -- would this statement not be true of? And, Whately adds, "this is to say nothing about how the odour of thousands of sweaty men, some of whom must have urinated or defecated, contributed to all of this. In short, the smell would have been powerful...."

A few pages later, in an attempt to engage our sense of taste, Whately tells us that the soldiers were probably hungry, and as the fight commenced they might have tasted blood -- "both their own and that of their opponents, neither of which is a particularly pleasant prospect" -- as well as water, tears and soil. He later suggests that the "relative speed" of a siege "meant that tasting and smelling might have been less pronounced for the defenders -- and the attackers -- than it might otherwise have been." How is that helpful?

Conor Whately's A Sensory History of Ancient Warfare makes promises it can't keep. This book did very little to appeal to my senses, unless boredom counts as a sense. Let me conclude by sharing one very long paragraph from a brief section on the Bar Kokhba Revolt, a Jewish rebellion in Judaea that spanned the years 132 to 136. Here, Whately tries to give readers a sensory experience revolving around the Jewish woman Babatha who fled the war and hid in a cave. But, again, he makes a lot of guesses and vague statements that don't paint the vivid picture he seems to think it does.

To get back to the sensory experience of this conflict, we can well imagine that life in the cave, however long it was, would have been challenging, and Babatha was probably filled with fear throughout this ordeal. Assuming she had the full use of all of her senses, there were likely severe limitations on what she could eat and drink inside what was probably a dull, and often dark, cave. On the other hand, the cause of her consternation, the Roman soldiers, would never have been far from view. If she looked out the cave's entrance, she could probably see them below. At night, she'd be able to see the flames, and maybe even smell the smoke, from their fires. Being cramped, possibly for days, if not more, inside a cave meant she could probably feel the evening chill and, more often than not, her companions. She probably kept her son, however old he might have been when all this happened, close, possibly during the day and almost certainly at night. For Babatha, and others like her, this war was an assault on her senses, and assuming she made it out alive, it would have been a sensory experience unlike any she is likely to have gone through before.

Oy. Look at the frequent use of words and phrases such as "we can well imagine," "probably," "maybe," "possibly" and "almost certainly." He's making guesses, and that doesn't help readers at all.

It's a shame. Whately's research is thorough, and his enthusiasm for the subject is obvious. A more straightforward history would have been more effective, I think, than this unsuccessful attempt at a fresh perspective.