Shamanism and The Neolithic Inside The Neolithic Mind

Review Articles
Review Articles
Medieval Artefacts in their Social Seing
how they came to be in their nal resting place: were

they inherited, collected or purchased, or was their
manufacture specially commissioned, for example?
It is this constant pondering about things, and puzzling about peoples behaviour, which makes this
book both so readable and so interesting, for it makes
the objects link directly with the people making and
using them. Particular emphasis is placed on the role
of material items in creating and reinforcing social
identities and membership of social groupings, with
ideas developed in early medieval archaeology tested
for application in the later period (where good use is
also made of documentary and pictorial sources). I
particularly liked the exploration of the restrictions
placed on the acquisition of particular items or types,
as a necessary counter-balance to otherwise seemingly
unrestricted choice: to be able to choose to use something, it rst has to be available, and that availability
can be restricted by other people, as well as by other
mechanisms.
The volume is structured in a fairly standard
chronological manner, with chapters running from
Adapting to Life without the Legions (late fourth to
mid sixth century) to The Wars and the Posies (fteenth to mid sixteenth century), each dealing with
up to a century and a half of development. The way
the individual chapters are structured also helps to
redress the balance between the Anglo-Saxon and
Anglo-Norman east of Britain and the rest of the
island. By consistently dealing with the western and
northern material rst, Hinton can then more clearly
identify where the east diverges, and where it follows
a similar development (albeit sometimes reected
through dierent types of material culture). This is
able to reveal some intriguing long-term paerning:
the eect of restrictions on the seventh-century gold
supply to Britain inuencing the importance some
people placed on being able to display their access
to it, for example, or the decline in importance of
personal display using pey artefacts aer the tenth
century as social systems came to depend more on
landholding and urban markets.
It is also worth reecting on the environment
in which this work was produced, for it bridges the
academic world, and that of public archaeology,
particularly in its use of artefacts reported to the Portable Antiquities Scheme. While these artefacts are of
Gold and Gilt, Pots and Pins:

Possessions and People in Medieval Britain,
by David A. Hinton, 2005. Oxford: Oxford
University Press; ISBN 0-19-926453-8 hardback 35;
xi+439 pp., 108 gs., 8 colour plates.
Sam Lucy
The study of archaeological small nds has had a varied history: fashionable in some decades, and in some
periods, and not in others. Medieval archaeology has
had a more intimate relationship with its artefacts than
other areas of the discipline, but this has expressed
itself oen in a tight focus on particular classes or
categories of material by specic individuals. One
person might be considered the expert, for example,
on a particular type of early medieval brooch, or a particular style of poery. While such specialization has
become necessary, given the sheer quantity of material
usually involved, it can mean that the big picture, the
overall synthesis, and assessment of what the totality
of material means, is lost. Moreover, the variety of
material culture used in the medieval period, c.
4001550, means that it is very dicult for a single
person to appreciate both the detail of interpretation
of individual artefacts and how they t into broader
systems of exchange, commerce and use.
Gold & Gilt, Pots & Pins is, therefore, an astonishing achievement, the culmination of decades of work
on small nds across the medieval period. Not only
does it span a far wider date range than many would
aempt but it also considers the whole of Britain,
making for a more balanced and thorough account
of these periods, able fully to consider the interaction between dierent areas, and beer to appreciate
changes over time. Its real contribution comes, though,
in its approach to the material, which is consistently
questioning and critical. Rather than seeing items of
material culture as passive indicators of xed social
groupings, Hinton looks deeper into how such items
were used and worn, and asks the (seemingly obvious, but actually rarely expressed) questions about
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Printed in the United Kingdom.
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A Class Act?
undoubted importance, they are also largely without

context, for they tend to be the result of metal-detecting activity. They are therefore dated by reference to
other, excavated, nds, and their signicance inferred
accordingly. One thing that the book is largely unable
to draw on is the mass of data generated by contract
archaeology since the early 90s. The rst chapter, for
example, on the h and sixth centuries, still largely
relies on the multitude of published cemeteries with
(as Hinton rightly notes) their ability to reveal how
the dead were treated; evidence from selement
sites, with their potential for revealing information
about how life was lived, is almost totally restricted
to that from the traditional canon, West Stow, Mucking and (now) West Heslerton. One can only wonder
(until wide-ranging syntheses of this material are
undertaken) how the data generated through contract archaeology might change understandings and
interpretations. This is not implied as a criticism (the
book is an achievement in itself), but it does underline
how medieval archaeology, as Richard Bradley has argued for prehistoric archaeology, may fundamentally
change once the new data are taken into account.
Editorially, it can not be faulted: a solitary reference missing from the bibliography was all I noted.
It also has very amusing (and oen self-deprecatory,
but always informative and detailed) end-notes, which
add a welcome informal tone to the volume as a whole.
Finally, the bibliography is a contribution in its own
right; this volume is not only valuable as a synthetic
work, but will also serve as a useful starting point for
those engaged in artefactual studies, particularly when
having to stray outside their normal elds of expertise.
It should also be recommended reading for students,
for its detail but also for its encapsulation of a critical
and enquiring approach to varying types of evidence.
David Hinton should therefore be congratulated on
this book, which represents a lifetimes accumulated
knowledge and considered study of artefacts in their
social seings.
Society and Death in Ancient Egypt: Mortuary

Landscapes of the Middle Kingdom, by Janet Richards,
2005. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; ISBN
0-521-84033-3 hardback 45 & US$75;
xv+245 pp., 112 gs., 2 tables.
Helen Strudwick with Alice Stevenson

The bias within the study of Egyptology towards mortuary remains has for many years now been a truth
universally acknowledged. Its general concentration
on material culture and textual evidence relating to
elite members of society is similarly well known.
There have been, in recent years, aempts to redress
the laer imbalance, to try to nd evidence relating
to lives and deaths of the lower echelons of Egyptian
society, and Society and Death aempts to utilize the
wealth of mortuary remains to consider social stratication in ancient Egypt and, in particular, to assess the
validity of an accepted Egyptological assertion that a
middle class emerged during the Middle Kingdom.
Richardss reasons for doing so are the documented
ancient Egyptian aitudes toward cemeteries as loci
for the recreation of ideal and real social orders (p.
2), and she asserts that mortuary evidence may be
used to demonstrate the presence or absence of real
social change. Despite Egyptologys shortcomings in
general, this is not a new approach, as she makes clear
in Chapter Four; it has, however, more usually been
applied to predynastic material. Richards divides her
book into two Parts and a Conclusion.
Part One introduces the study of ancient societies, beginning with the terminology she will use, including class, elite and status, and a review of studies of
social status and organization. This is followed by the
introduction of traditionally accepted interpretations
of Egyptian society, using textual and representational
evidence, usefully highlighting the great increase in
textual material from non-mortuary contexts which
survive from the Middle Kingdom. This part concludes with a consideration of the archaeological evidence and the conclusions which may be drawn from
it about society. Here it is regreable that the terms
town and city are used without being dened.
Part Two, Society and Death in Egypt, occupies
most of the book. It begins with a chapter looking
in detail at the problems presented by the mortuary
bias in the evidence available. Richards highlights
Sam Lucy
Cambridge Archaeological Unit
Department of Archaeology
Cambridge University
Downing Street
Cambridge
CB2 3DZ
UK
Email: [email protected]
CAJ 16:3, 3546
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the fact that the funerary monuments that have been

most studied are generally substantial monuments,
and that therefore the picture presented by them is
necessarily biased towards the elite. She makes the
important point that Egyptologists have generally
focused on tombs as individual monuments rather
than as part of the wider context of a cemetery, thus
decontextualizing the available evidence. The situation is oen exacerbated by the prevailing system of
applying for and allocating concessions for studying
individual monuments.
In discussing the general aer-life belief system
of the ancient Egyptians, she makes the valid point
that mortuary practice should be looked at in totality,
including the endowment of lands to provide income
for the employment of priests to carry out necessary
oerings. She regrets that with very few exceptions
the specic details of these nonroyal arrangements
are also inaccessible (p. 65); this is generally true but,
in Greek and demotic documents of the Ptolemaic
period, there are detailed records le by the choachytes
(mortuary priests) of the time. Whilst these are clearly
much later in date, they nonetheless do give a wealth
of information about the workings of the mortuary
economy and status of the individuals involved.
Up to this point, the pace of the book is rather
slow, and this reader was le feeling that Richards
was trying hard to ensure any traditional Egyptologists were nursed through what might be frightening
territory. As a result, the rst 87 pages have the feeling
of an over-lengthy introduction, with much stating of
the theories and opinions of others but very lile of
the authors own voice.
In Chapters Six and Seven, Richards presents
studies of the mortuary sites at Haraga and Riqqa, in
northern Middle Egypt, and Abydos, further south,
including the results of the 1988 excavations of the
North Cemetery at Abydos. These chapters present
very useful overviews of the development of these
burial sites and, for the rst two, some limited quantitative analyses of the data available. The analyses
performed are a lile disappointing in their scope
(e.g. correspondence analysis could have been used to
look at relationships and variability between the data
sets). There is also a lack of critical rigour in use of the
data. For instance, comparison of graves from dierent
sites is misleading since local geological conditions
are just as likely to have aected the construction of
graves as are the requirements of status display. The
opportunity to engage with qualitative dierences
between artefacts has been missed. Variability within
assemblages is a line of investigation that Egyptological data is well-suited to. Richards identies the
presence of numerous levels within a middle class,

but what may be more signicant is the complexity of
its constituent elements the ways in which the mosaic of social identities within it was understood and
represented in death. Such diversity and complexity
appears not to have been examined. However, the author concludes that a dierentiation in burial practice,
reecting a dierence in socio-economic status, can be
detected in the Middle Kingdom mortuary data from
Haraga and Riqqa, and that this is also reected in the
development of burial practice at Abydos.
In her concluding chapter, Richards draws together the evidence from the mortuary data and that
from other sources, archaeological, textual and representational, and argues that a middle class did exist
in the Middle Kingdom, but that it emerged earlier,
during the late Old Kingdom and the First Intermediate Period. These conclusions are not new and may be
found, for example, in the Oxford History of Ancient
Egypt (Seidlmayer 2000). Indeed, much of the purpose
of Richardss book seems to be to present the data from
the 1988 excavations within a wider context.
Only two editorial problems made themselves
noticed. On Figure 6, the Terrace of the Great God is
not marked, which makes it dicult for the reader to
appreciate the location of the votive zone Richards
is discussing. On page 64, within Chapter Four, there
is a cross-reference to the same chapter.
A source of unease throughout the book is the
use of the phrase middle class. Although her usage
is clearly dened at the outset, the author has not
addressed the inherent problems of using a phrase
so full of connotations for this reader at least. Unlike
American usage, middle class is in todays Britain
frequently used in a pejorative sense. Indeed, for
many of my generation, the word class has forever
been coloured by the 1966 Frost Report comedy sketch
in which three men, representing the upper, middle
and lower classes, compare themselves with each
other. The upper class representative is said to have
no money, but innate breeding, which distinguishes
him from the middle class man who has money but
says of himself that he is vulgar, whilst the lower
class man looks up to them both. On this evidence,
class in British terms cannot be distinguished merely
on the basis of relative material wealth. The evaluation
of class presented by Richards suggests that, in the ancient Egyptian context, class (which she equates with
socioeconomic grouping or level [p. 16]) was
based on an individuals access to material wealth. But
do we actually know that this is the case? I think this
remains an unaddressed question. We may recognize,
in ancient Egyptian society, features reminiscent of
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Going to Ground
an aristocracy, characterized by individuals holding

honoric rather than functional titles but, as the Frost
Reports characterization of class indicates, social
status cannot necessarily be assumed to be directly
related to wealth.
Overall, Richards has presented us with a useful
synopsis of work on the structure of ancient Egyptian
society, including the results of her own study of the
Middle Kingdom sites of Haraga, Riqqa and Abydos,
with a particular focus on contextualizing the 1988
excavations at the laer site. The slow pace at which
the material is presented makes it perhaps a book to
dip into rather than one to read from cover to cover.
Stone Houses and Earth Lords:

Maya Religion in Cave Context,
edited by Keith M. Prufer & James E. Brady, 2005.
Boulder (CO): University Press of Colorado;
ISBN 0-87081-808-2 hardback 44.50 & US$55;
xviii+392 pp., ills.
Stephen Houston
A cave in the Maya region is not for the faint of heart.
The entrances are oen narrow, the humidity high
and creepy-crawlies abundant, or at least imagined
to be so in the darkness beyond the entrance. Flash
oods can and do drown the spelunker, sudden drops
break their bones. The caves are neither intended for
easy movement nor inviting in air quality. One of my
most memorable experiences was to stumble, near the
opening of a cave in Guatemala, over a jaguar carcass
covered in re ants. The ants soon shied their interest
and injections of formic acid to my legs; the appalling stench continued as before. Had I not been in
acute pain I would have noticed that, like many caves,
the Maya ones breathe: air ows in and out according
to the micro-pressures of cool air inside meeting moist,
warm air outside. Thus, Maya caves are dark, uninviting, almost greasy in their humidity, oozing with bat
guano, smelly, dangerous, and weirdly animate.
With Stone Houses and Earth Lords and another
collection of broader scope (Brady & Prufer 2005),
Maya cave archaeology has become one of the two
best-studied traditions of subterranean archaeology in
the world. Other than parts of France and Spain, there
is no other region with such intensity of research and
comparable intensity of ancient use. In no small part,
this break-through results from the tenacity of James
Brady. Building on work by Henry Mercer, Edward
Thompson and Sir Eric Thompson, he has managed
to forge a new subeld of Maya archaeology. Aer
decades of exemplary eldwork in Honduras, Belize,
Guatemala, and Mexico, Brady can claim to have created a speciality that can now rework prior Mayanist
perception of the landscape and lead to publications
in outlets once shy of such esoterica. This achievement
has garnered scholarly respect and employment for
its practitioners. The accomplishment is large and important. Stone Houses and Earth Lords catalogues how
others have been inuenced by Brady and includes a
number of essays by the Earth Lord himself.
Helen Strudwick
Fitzwilliam Museum
Trimpington Street
Cambridge
CB2 1RB
UK
Alice Stevenson
Faculty of Oriental Studies
Cambridge University
Sidgwick Avenue
Cambridge
CB2 9DA
UK
Reference
Seidlmayer, S., 2000. The First Intermediate period (c. 2160
2055 ), in The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, ed. I.
Shaw. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 11847.
CAJ 16:3, 3568
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seem always to form parts of royal entourages.

Another decipherment by Stuart, plausible but
still unproved, reinterprets a glyph identied before as
a sign linked to place (Stuart & Houston 1994, g. 9). In
the Classic period texts, the probable reading is, according to Stuart, chen, cave, rocky outcrop, escarpment,
cenote [well]. At Dos Pilas, Brady has found that caves
are, to an unexpected extent, central to site planning.
This perspective is deepened with evidence from other
scholars in the volume: Timothy Pugh on a cave that
runs through the centre of Mayapan, Shankari Patel on
caves and elevated roads over much of Cozumel, and
Christopher Morehart on a cave linked by road to the
Belizean site of Actun Chapat. Yet the fuller range of
meanings needs to be taken into account. More recent
linguistic sources, our fullest record, leave lile doubt
that the nuances of chen go well beyond what we
would call a cave. In the 1980s, Stuart remarked to
me that a speleothem (piece of mineralized cave stone)
from Yaxchilan was inscribed with a more specic term
for cave, in a spelling we would now read as ahktuun,
turtle-stone. For some of the Maya at least some of
the time, a cave might have seemed more akin to the
gullet of an earth turtle, perceived in ancient belief as
a world-model (Taube 1993, 77).
The volume contains real surprises. Bradys comparison of nds from caves, especially in the Petexbatun
sites, and those from surface excavations will and
should shock most Mayanists. The sheer quantity of
cave nds is stunning, as, incidentally, is their extraordinary preservation. In future, it would be imprudent
to ignore such nds or the possibility of them. Brady
goes on to suggest that the removal of goods from circulation itself formed an important function of caves in
Maya ritual economy. This may be, yet secondary consequences are not certain to have inuenced primary
motivation in placing valued goods within caves. The
discovery by Brady and Pierre Colas of desecrated or
sealed caves hints at a studied and violent corking of
entrances with mud and stone. The argument is persuasive in the general, but not, to this epigraphic specialist,
convincing in the particular. The suggestion from hieroglyphic evidence that res aected chen would have
less bearing on their argument if, in fact, the meaning
were broader than cave. Holley Moyes reports on the
surprising nd of a sweatbath in the cave of Chechem
Ha, Belize. This accords with the discovery, by Mark
Child and David Webster, of a similar sweatbath in an
overhang on the periphery of Piedras Negras.
The editors extol Sir Eric Thompson, who did
more than most to fold ethnographic observation
into archaeological interpretation. That caves serve
today as a marker of identity among Tzotzil Maya or
that mountains among the Qeqchi discharge similar
The essential point of the chapters is that Maya

caves relate to ideas and ritual practice, not to habitation and extraction of resources. This means that,
for present-day interpreters, caves serve as the nearexclusive province of beliefs and rituals concerning the
nature of earth and humans, the geocentric modality
noted by Brady & Prufer in their conclusion. Caves
are where we should dig for such maers, as their
deposits have been neglected, their recesses relatively
undisturbed by looters and less-skilled archaeologists
of the past. The pragmatic views of cave use, such
as Arnolds (1971) belief that caves were exploited
mostly for tempering material, is exploded by the
authors in this book. The many burials, some doubtless sacricial, are addressed by the nal set of essays,
each showing that some of the bodies belonged to the
unwilling, including children.
In their paper on articial or constructed caves
and waterways in the Maya Mountains of Belize,
Prufer & Kindon do, however, indicate a subtle revision to geocentrism. A fuller conception requires
immersion in the ethno-hydrology of the ancient
Maya, who saw rains and celestial phenomena, including rainbows, as parts of water cycles that pass only
intermiently through caves. A geocentric approach
should not loosen ties to the worlds above.
A second point, noted in other places by David
Stuart, concerns the ways in which pyramids replicate
natural features, in particular the hills or wits that the
ancient Maya would oen depict as living beings, not
with doorways, but with caves in their summits. Ironically, the exemplication of this perception is among
the earliest: the Preclassic cave depicted in the paintings of San Bartolo, Guatemala, featured on the cover
of this book obliges with eyes, mouth, and, in place of
stalactites, an undulating tooth (terminology of such
cave features comes with helpful explanation in the
paper by Peterson et al.). Stone (1992) drew similar
aention to this process of inclusion and domestication of natural landscapes as a means of centralizing
access to, and control over, sacred features.
In a sense, Maya cities concentrated the key sacred features of a dispersed landscape, but now under
watchful royal eyes and liturgical supervision. From
the small sites documented in Belize and elsewhere
by Christina Halperin and Prufer, it is likely that these
strategies aected other levels of society too: caves are
not only elite phenomena, although some of them,
such as Naj Tunich, contain clear textual evidence
of royal aention to caves. Stone reports here and in
her ne monograph on Naj Tunich (Stone 1995) that
scribes in the employ of rulers came to caves, although
whether, as she suggests, in acts of personal pilgrimage appears less likely to me Classic Maya scribes
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Misunderstanding Visual Culture
functions is surely true; and maybe, probably, this

holds among the users of the caves reported in Stone
Houses and Earth Lords. The trouble is that the very
esoteric, secretive, and enclosed nature of cave rituals
means that precise interpretation will prove dicult to
conrm. The risk is to activate what Floyd Lounsbury
called Thompsons love of association: this-is-linkedto-that-which-is-linked-to-this, and so on. Lounsbury
was not positive about this approach, which had disastrous consequences for Maya decipherment. Its eect
is less deleterious here but still open to debate.
How does one prove specic intent behind a
particular deposit or instance of cave use? How can
a particular act, materially aested, be worked into
a broader world-view of the ancient Maya without
sounding like Thompson at his most incautious? The
likely outcome is a conuence of multiple meanings
and uses in caves. That they should have one use or
set of meanings is improbable. The tendency in this
book, except for some remarks by Pugh, is to see caves
as powerful and useful. Another view is to draw on
Maya traditions that assign evil to holes in the ground,
even the possibility of malign witchcra; in local belief, caves may have housed way or companion spirits
that occupied the night or roamed through jungles
beyond the domesticated world. The fact that these
questions can be asked, alternatives explored, owes
everything to this volume, to the work behind it, and
to the legacy of James Brady.
Visual Culture and Archaeology:

Art and Social Life in Prehistoric South-east Italy,
by Robin Skeates, 2005. London: Duckworth;
ISBN 0-7156-3390-2 hardback 45; xii+244 pp., 43
gs., 2 tables, 22 photographs.
Douglass Bailey
Robin Skeates has wrien an ambitious text which
aims to explore the contributions that the transdisciplinary approach of visual culture studies can oer
archaeology, and to provide an up-to-date synthesis
of art and society in southeast Italian prehistory. The
author presents material though nine chapters, tracing artistic trends from the earlier Upper Palaeolithic
through the Middle Bronze Age, and providing detailed descriptions of trends and sites with comprehensive bibliographic support. The book provides a
detailed and welcome discussion of art and artworks
over a long period from a region and a period with
which the author is well acquainted. Though some
may wish for a broader discussion of how these objects
t into the wider geographic context (how events and
objects in Puglia t into our knowledge of contemporary neighbouring regions of Italy and other parts of
the Central Mediterranean), there is much for which
students of the Italian past will be grateful. In this
sense, the book is a complete success.
The problem, however, is that Duckworth promotes Visual Culture and Archaeology as an archaeological case study for the eld of visual culture studies and
as an investigation of the contribution that archaeologies of art can make to the study of visual culture. It
is here that the project comes unstuck. Much of the
diculty ows from the restrictive ways in which
Skeates denes his object of study and, more fatally,
from his imprecise (though well-intentioned) employment of critical vocabularies from contemporary art.
The denition of art as those made-objects intended
to be visually expressive and stimulating (p. 1) worries the reader from the outset. How do we get at the
intentions of these made-objects? Are not all objects
potentially visually expressive and stimulating? By
adding visual culture to the mix, Skeates productively
extends the scope of the study by adding processes
and activities such as performance. On the surface, this
all looks well polished; in the introduction the author
reminds us that there can be no nal and denitive
account of visual culture, that we must remain aware
Stephen Houston
Department of Anthropology
Brown University
Box 1921
Providence, RI 02912
USA
References
Arnold, D.E., 1971. Ethnominerology of Ticul Yucatan potters: etics and emics. American Antiquity 36, 2040.
Brady, J.E. & K.M. Prufer (eds.), 2005. In the Maw of the Earth
Monster: Studies of Mesoamerican Ritual Cave Use. Austin (TX): University of Texas Press.
Stone, A., 1992. From ritual in the landscape to capture in the
urban center: the recreation of ritual environments in
Mesoamerica. Journal of Ritual Studies 6, 10932.
Stone A., 1995. Images from the Underworld: Naj Tunich and the
Tradition of Maya Cave Painting. Austin (TX): University
of Texas Press.
Stuart, D. & S. Houston, 1994. Classic Maya Place Names.
Washington (DC): Dumbarton Oaks.
Taube, K., 1993. Aztec & Maya Myths. London: British Museum.
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of the importance of individual perceptions, that material culture does not have any single specic meaning,
that objects are meaningfully constituted, and that
social relations are uid and contested entities.
It is disappointing, therefore, that the chapters that
follow these bold and welcome statements make lile
eort to take advantage of the potential that a visual
culture approach can bring to the study of prehistoric
people, objects, places, behaviours and beliefs. In organizing the books core nine chapters, Skeates choses to
marry individual periods of southeast Italian prehistory
to selected characteristic features of visual culture (p.
11). Thus, the early Upper Palaeolithic gets hitched to
body art, the middle Upper Palaeolithic to performance
art, the later Upper Palaeolithic to gurative art, the
nal Upper Palaeolithic to ritual art, the early Neolithic to community art, the late Neolithic to animate
art, the nal Neolithic to status art, the Copper Age to
prestigious art, and the Middle Bronze Age to monumental art. These arranged marriages can have only
one future: divorce. Why should any of these selected
key characteristics be limited to any particular period?
In his own defence, Skeates claims that his intention is
not to limit particular characteristics to single periods;
the problem remains that this is precisely what the
book does. Why should we think of performance art
in the middle Upper Palaeolithic but not the Bronze
Age? Why is status art more relevant to the end of the
Neolithic than to the Copper Age? Certainly all of these
important and well-selected concepts need thinking
through for all periods. A beer approach would be
to ask why particular communities, in specic places,
living under certain environmental, social and political circumstances, should engage with visuality in
various ways with dierent intended (or unintended)
consequences. Another concern is Skeatess inability (or
is it unwillingness?) to escape the comforting though
restrictive decision to reduce all visual behaviour to
art? Again, the authors introductory claims for a new
and exciting discussion which benets from visual
culture studies disappear into the depths of a text that
assigns all visually engaging activities and materials
to traditional and complacent categories of art: for
example, portable art-works (p. 11), body art (p. 21),
gurative art (p. 50), arts of the rst farmers (p. 79),
traditional art (p. 123), the art of display (p. 139),
static art-forms (p. 156), the art of advertising (p. 164),
quantities of valued art-works (p. 195), and distinctive local artistic traditions, local artists or visually
communicative art-works (p. 196). Where is the critical
and provocative potential of specic meanings, of the
importance of individual viewers, or of the uidity of
meanings which featured in the introduction? Where
is the visual culture of the volumes title that aracts

purchasers, readers and reviewers?
The answer lies in Skeatess failure to understand
visual culture studies. A visual culture approach seeks
to tease out sets of relationships among objects, spectators, acts of viewing and of being seen, of rhetorical powers of various representational methods and
conceits, and of socio-political contexts of particular
engagements of people and objects. Most importantly,
visual culture is not, as Skeates assumes it to be, a
physical object or a set of materials that can be traced
though time and across regions as if it were a style of
poery decoration or artefact form. One can neither
write in terms of the visual culture of a region, period
or selement, nor suggest that a community established a distinctive visual culture or employed a visual
culture for a particular purpose. Visual culture is not
a thing. It refers to the interactions of objects, objects
qualities, and the historical particularities of human
engagements with those objects, but only where object
is taken to mean an unrestricted range of permanent
(but also ephemeral) manifestations of human activity: pots, gurines, wall paintings, mosaics, but also
sand drawings, dances, arguments, haute-couture,
repeated everyday activities, doodlings, ticket-stubs,
cartoons and grati. None of these manifestations of
human activity need to have been generated through
artistic intention; nor are they part of a pretence to
express a tangible concept or tradition. Visual culture
is an approach that urges scholarship to rupture the
foundations of existing debates and to provoke new
and oen unseling juxtapostionings of thought and
action within past behaviour as well as within modern
interpretation and representation of the past.
Furthermore, to employ a visual culture approach is not to pick and choose concepts from the
world of contemporary art and then simply lay them
down on top of an otherwise unreconceptualized set
of objects, people, or places. To do so is to do nothing
more than adhere a thin and cheap veneer of critical
thinking over the more mundane (though sturdy)
plywood of traditional and unprovocative description.
In thinking in terms of performance art, installation
art or body art, Skeates teases the reader with what
might play out as challenging and provocative analysis. The authors failure to provide adequately detailed
discussion about any of these movements or concepts
(as they have developed historically within and, more
importantly, as reactions against traditional art and
art history) makes it dicult for him, let alone for the
reader, to work through the potential of these ideas.
A good example of this problem is Skeatess use
of the concept, installation art. In the artistic vocabu359
Review Articles
lary and actions of the past y years, installation art

marks a departure from traditional artistic production, especially in the relationships among spectator,
exhibition space, and object. An important aim of
installation art is to engage the spectator physically
and emotionally in a multi-sensory experience. The
viewer is forced out of passivity and pushed into
contact with a set of materials, sights, sounds and
smells that go beyond normal expectation. Installation art complicates the relationships among objects,
creator/artists, spectators, time and space, creates
new and unexpected worlds, and undermines the
spectators static, reasoned appreciation of an ideal
form or concrete entity (a painting on a wall, a statue
on a plinth, an artefact in its stylistic classication). In
this sense, to think about the prehistoric past in terms
of installation art has (at least) two potential benets:
it could urge us to investigate how particular prehistoric people transformed and disrupted particular
places and objects (installation as practice and a way
of thinking in the past); and it could urge us to engage
in the (re)presentation of the prehistoric past (and its
objects, places and people) in a more subjective and
confrontational way.
Skeates has something dierent in mind. For
him, installation is in inverted commas (as if he is not
certain of the terms proper usage or is embarrassed to
be found using it at all). For Skeates, installation is lile
more than a synonym for deposition. He proposes that
installation art expresses the dynamic act or process
of installing visual material in a specic place (p. 11).
Grave-goods are oered as an example of installation
art in action: the body and its ornaments are installed
in a burial and a burial is installed in a cave. Missing
from this approach are the sensually engaged spectators and the aempts to create new understandings of
the world that should accompany thinking about installation. More promising is Skeatess suggestion that
deposition into ditches of objects (tools or human remains, mainly in the later and nal Neolithic) and the
construction of walls were intended as material acts
that forced into action those watching and demanded
subjective responses. Interesting ideas all of these are,
though again, Skeates stops short of playing them
out to their full potential. Instead, he reverts to rather
mundane interpretation, citing prehistoric needs to
maintain control over local resources or aempts to
re-enforce individual status and social hierarchies.
Given its head, the idea of installation (in its artistic
sense) in caves is an exciting provocation to thought:
prehistoric people manipulating place and objects in
order to challenge prehistoric understandings and
uses of caves, the essences of caves, the expectations
that people had of cave-space, and their conceptions of

what appropriate behaviour and activity within them
might be. To take forward this particular proposal requires a (much needed) digression on individual caves
in their particular social and geographic landscapes;
clearly that is another book project, eagerly awaited.
Also exciting is the proposal that ditch-llings are
confrontational aempts to transform ditches and
their prehistoric meanings; this line of reasoning could
move debate past traditional interpretations of ditchlling events (i.e. as claims for group membership or
as proposals for links to past events and groups). In
any event, installation art is a concept of great potential for thinking about the past, though in Archaeology
and Visual Culture the opportunity is missed. Hopefully, it will stimulate future work.
Similar detailed discussions could focus on
Skeatess use of performance and landscape art. The
result would be a similar set of concerns as those
already raised about Skeatess employment of installation. All are vibrant critical concepts which have
their own historical and philosophical contexts, and
all are pregnant with potential for reworking our
understanding of the prehistory of southeastern Italy
and beyond. Playing out these interpretive conceits in
full and in association with detailed, (pre)historically
specic case studies that weave their ways in and out
of traditional culture-historical cul-de-sacs will enrich
our knowledge of the prehistory of the central Mediterranean. Robin Skeates is the person best positioned
to take up this challenge, and we will be much the
wiser once he has done so.
Douglass W. Bailey
School of History & Archaeology
Cardi University
Cardi
CF10 3EU
Wales
360
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Shamanism and the Neolithic
existence here of a notion of a three-tiered cosmos

implied, although not clearly stated, to be a universal
feature of pre-modern religious belief, despite some of
the observations reported by the authors themselves of
a variety of cosmologies. This assumption of a universal belief in a three-tiered cosmos underlies the lack of
interest in pursuing any alternative interpretation of
architectural and burial practices.
For the remainder of the rst half of the book,
they focus on atalhyk. Following an outline of
the architecture and burials, they consider the role of
the aurochs. Here they draw on Stephen Hugh-Joness
distinction between horizontal and vertical shamanism. Vertical shamanism depends on the control of
esoteric knowledge, thus leading to the possibility
of competition over access to knowledge both within
the elite and those outside. This competition therefore
provides the motor for change in their analysis. Aer
a consideration of buildings and burials in the light
of the three-tiered cosmos model, Lewis-Williams &
Pearce concentrate on the aurochs and its domestication. They aribute this to shamans, or seers, seeking
prestige through possession of cale to be used for the
display of wealth, sacrice and feasting. This is not
very dierent from other social models of domestication, mentioned only very briey by the authors; the
crucial dierence is that these do not conne political
competition in gatherer-hunter or early agricultural
societies to seers. Indeed, there is lile aempt by the
authors to argue, rather than assume, that political
power was inevitably in the hands of the religious,
even though, in many of the ethnographic case studies
cited throughout the book, it is clear that shamans had
no monopoly on power.
In the specic case of atalhyk and the aurochs,
the lack of context makes the argument dicult for the
reader to assess. Although the original domestication
of cereals is mentioned briey several chapters earlier
on, that sheep and goat were herded, and a range of
cereals and legumes cultivated at atalhyk long
before the local domestication of cale is not made at
all clear. Can this really be ignored in any discussion of
domestication? Indeed, the role of Natuan societies
and sites in the Levant in the origins of agriculture is
glossed over almost entirely. Had they been discussed,
it would have become clear that cale domestication
is a relatively late phenomenon, which may have had
lile to do with the earlier domestication events and
processes. To generalize from atalhyk is thus a
highly dubious undertaking.
The second half of the book considers the chambered tombs of the western Atlantic, with brief asides
on the Rollright stone circle in Oxfordshire and henges.
Inside the Neolithic Mind: Consciousness, Cosmos and

the Realm of the Gods, by David Lewis-Williams &
David Pearce, 2005. London: Thames & Hudson;
ISBN 0-500-05138-0 hardback 18.95; 320 pp.,
104 ills.
Nick Thorpe
In this interesting and enjoyable tour of Neolithic consciousness, the authors seek to develop the model of
a shamanic origin for Palaeolithic art, as presented in
Professor Lewis-Williamss earlier work (2002). This
time, the focus is on two main themes: the origins
of agriculture and the meaning of passage graves
and (briey) henges and stone circles. The volume
is well illustrated, with a range of black & white line
drawings and photographs and a selection of colour
photographs, although some of the photographs are
rather too dark to make out the details required to
support the argument.
Lewis-Williams & Pearce provide a welcome
emphasis on the role of religion as a counter-weight to
other archaeological schools which over-emphasize the
importance of technology and ecological adaptation in
prehistoric societies. However, the fundamental doubt
most readers will have about the religious argument put
forward here is its universal character the suggestion
that there is such a thing as the Neolithic mind. The
basis of this claim lies in neurophysiology and the argument that altered and heightened states of consciousness
result in religious experiences which are codied in
systems of belief and practices. The authors do recognize
a role for culture in variations of religious activity but
they are far more concerned to seek out common patterns between the Near East and the Atlantic.
The major areas for which Lewis-Williams &
Pearce propose a new interpretation are the beginnings
of agriculture and western European Neolithic monuments. They begin with agriculture and a brief outline
of dubious claims that DNA analysis has pinpointed
the origins of domesticated cereals in the Karacadag
Mountains of Turkey and can be associated with the
remarkable site of Gbekli Tepe and its pillars carved
with the gures of animals. This is followed by short
sections on the Ain Ghazal statuees and plastered
heads from Near Eastern Neolithic sites, which are
reasonably believed to show the importance of seeing,
and architecture at ayon and Ain Ghazal which is
less convincingly presented as an argument for the
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One of the mysteries they seek to probe is why henges

retain the circular plan of many (but not all) megalithic
passage tomb mounds? (p. 196), the importance of the
circular form being demonstrated by its persistence
for some 1500 years at Stonehenge. There is, of course,
a perfectly good reason in the view of most British
archaeologists for the circular form of henges they
follow the circular form of many earlier causewayed
enclosures and, indeed, Stonehenge itself, probably
the earliest henge monument, is perhaps best seen as
a hybrid form between causewayed enclosures and
henges. Yet, bizarrely, causewayed enclosures receive
not a single mention in the book. Also, no room is found
among the 75 line drawings for distribution maps of
either passage tombs or henges, which might have
demonstrated the lack of over-lap between the two both
along the Atlantic (henges only appearing in Britain and
Ireland) and within Britain (most henges are in eastern
England and lowland Scotland).
The rest of the analyses focus on passage graves,
especially those of the Boyne Valley, with aention
paid to the architecture, once again interpreted in
terms of a three-tiered vision of the cosmos, and the
decoration on the stones, not surprisingly seen as
reecting altered and heightened states of consciousness. The general notion of religious belief underlying
the art is widely accepted, although specic interpretations, such as the view that horizontal lines at
Knowth represent tiers of the cosmos, required further
detail. Breton chambered tomb art also features in this
discussion, although not the earliest of the art the
standing stones, decorated with a Neolithic toolkit
of axes, domesticated animals and ploughs, which
were broken up and reused as capstones at several
major tombs. It would have been interesting to see
how Lewis-Williams & Pearce would have coped with
this rather dierent artistic product.
This is, as the blurbs on the book jacket suggest,
an exciting read, but it would have been far more
convincing if a sustained aempt had been made to
grapple with the complexity of the evidence. Stressing
the importance of local cultural sequences does not sit
well with ignoring whole monument groups. Next
time, we need less pictures and more research.
Reference
Lewis-Williams, D., 2002. The Mind in the Cave: Consciousness
and the Origins of Art. London: Thames & Hudson.
Hearing Secret Harmonies

Archaeoacoustics, edited by Chris Scarre & Graeme
Lawson, 2006. (McDonald Institute Monographs.)
Cambridge: McDonald Institute for Archaeological
Research; ISBN 1-902937-35-X hardback
25 & US$50; ix + 126 pp., 63 ills., 5 tables.
Richard Bradley
What was life like in the distant past? How did the
experience of ancient people dier from our own?
One of the challenges of contemporary archaeology is
to nd ways of answering these questions. To a large
extent, recent investigations have been concerned
with visual phenomena. Much has been wrien about
the appearance of places in the past, their seings in
the wider terrain and the views that could be seen
from them. The obvious analogy is with a landscape
painting. Discussion of such work usually takes two
forms. On one level, there are disagreements about the
orientations of particular sites and their relationship
to distant landforms. Were megalithic tombs aligned
on mountains or rock outcrops? Were they placed
so as to have a view of the sea? A more fundamental
problem concerns the environments in which they
were built. Were these as clear of vegetation as they
are today, or would the structures have been located
in woodland? Such discussions are oen inconclusive,
and a more important point has been overlooked. In a
closed environment, other senses come into play. This
is evident from some of the ethnographic examples
quoted in this book. The less it is appropriate to think
in terms of visual eects, the greater the importance
of sound.
That is an issue on which all the contributors to
this collection would agree but, in other respects, their
aitudes to acoustic archaeology are very diverse. It
is not surprising when the contributors extend from
an advocate of alternative archaeology to specialists
on ancient music, architecture and hunter-gatherers.
What links many of these papers is a concern with
intention. How can we tell which kinds of sounds
were important in the past? Were they experienced
Nick Thorpe
University of Winchester
West Hill
Winchester
SO22 4NR
UK
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passively or were they deliberately contrived? How

would they have been interpreted? Here any consensus ends. The book contains several strands.
Some of the contributors are concerned with
ancient musical instruments and their performance.
Their methods extend from the reconstruction of
specic instruments, like Bronze Age lurs or early
medieval lyres, to their use in a variety of seings.
Lawson, for instance, argues that the boat-shaped
halls of Late Iron Age Scandinavia would have possessed the right acoustic qualities for vocal performances, accompanied by a lyre; a practice for which
there is documentary evidence. Laboratory analysis
is important too, and allows DErrico & Lawson to
distinguish between the earliest bone utes and a
spurious example from Slovenia where the nger
holes were made by bears. In other cases, ancient
instruments have been postulated on the basis of
ethnographic evidence. Morley considers the music
created by modern hunter-gatherers, and Zubrow &
Blake describe the operation of a specially constructed
lithophone based on the acoustic properties of int
blades. If this seems an unlikely claim, they argue
that the use of these artefacts to make music produces
distinctive wear traces which can be recognized on
Upper Palaeolithic artefacts.
Other papers place more emphasis on Classical and medieval acoustics as they are reected in
architectural texts and surviving buildings. Rocconi
discusses the writings of Vitruvius and the acoustic
devices incorporated in ancient theatres; Rezniko
considers the use of sound in medieval churches; and
Lawson extends the same approach to the acoustic
ports built into Wells Cathedral. Here there is much
less ambiguity, and the trumpet ports he identies on
the West Front at Wells were actually accompanied by
sculptures of people playing musical instruments.
Another strand concerns prehistoric material, although Reznikos chapter provides a link by
showing that there are Upper Palaeolithic paintings
at particularly resonant points in some French caves.
Waller makes a similar observation in the case of open
air rock art in Utah and Arizona. His study shows that
these designs were placed where sounds would echo
from the rock face.
Such studies raise a fundamental problem which
is addressed in the papers by Scarre, Watson, Cross
and Devereux. Whereas Vitruvius understood how
sound behaves, there are societies in which it remains
a mystery. It seems to be amplied or distorted for no
apparent reason, or appears to issue spontaneously
from rivers, clis and caves. Such phenomena are
widely appreciated, as ethnographic accounts make
clear, but, if they could not be understood, how could

they have been exploited? That raises the question of
intention which underlies nearly all the contributions.
Watson discusses the acoustic eects experienced
inside chambered tombs and stone circles. I have no
doubt that they exist and have experienced some of
them myself, but were they deliberately contrived?
As he says, that is the kind of question addressed by
Western science but people in prehistory may not have
shared the same concern. A beer procedure would
be to accept that certain monuments had acoustic
properties which were not envisaged when they were
constructed. In that case it is worth asking if there is
any structural evidence that they had been enhanced
once those eects had been recognized. Were later
monuments of the same type built with those phenomena in mind? That may be hard to answer, but a
still more dicult question is how such phenomena
would have been interpreted in the past. One way
forward might be to investigate the physical eects of
infrasound. They are mentioned in passing, but again
the authors disagree.
This is an aractively produced volume, clearly
wrien, well illustrated and carefully edited. If it appears inconclusive, that is because any conclusions
would be premature, but it does set the terms for a
discussion which is becoming increasingly topical. It
is more than most books do, and that is why Archaeoacoustics is well worth reading.
Richard Bradley
University of Reading
Whiteknights
Reading
RG6 6AB
UK
363
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Ethnoastronomy in Cultural Context
Three articles incorporate methodological or

cross-cultural analysis. Astronomer Chamberlain
lists questions related to astronomy that would aid
our understanding of ethnoastronomy. Some concepts have not been previously considered, such as
observations of the earths shadow, which is visible
in the sky to the east just aer sunset. Edwin Krupp
focuses on the association of colours and directions
in a broad survey that includes North America, Mesoamerica and areas sharing the Buddhist and Hindu
traditions. He points out that the colours vary but the
concept of quadripartite space is universal. Cardinal
directions are sometimes linked to individual stars or
star groups, and intercardinal directions are oen associated with the solstice extremes. Youngs article in
this section warns about the dangers of ethnographic
analogy, citing a case where scholarly analysis of an
ancient petroglyph inuenced Zuni interpretations
recorded at a later date.
D.M. Varisco describes medieval Muslim almanacs that blend the lunar zodiac, prevalent in China,
India, and Sassanian Iran, with Yemeni star calendars.
In this model, 28 asterisms marked the sidereal journey of the Moon, and the cosmical rising of each asterism was said to occur at 13-day intervals. Observations
of the zenith position of the Sun on July 16 over the
well at Mecca provided a solar coordinate.
The largest number of articles appear in a section
on the New World with ten on North America, four
on Mesoamerica, four on South America, and two on
the Caribbean. Many of these articles relate astronomy
to the landscape or seasonal cycles. Sco Momaday
recounts a Kiowa story about seven sisters who rose
up to the sky to become the Big Dipper at a sacred
site in the Black Hills of Wyoming. Plains Indian lore
makes a compelling connection between their people,
sacred landscape and the heavens.
David Vogts article on the Northwest Coast focuses on concepts of night and day, spirit and reality.
Darkness is a place of magic and the world of the dead,
relating to night itself but also to the seasons. A desire
to draw back the light is an important part of the winter ceremonials in the Raven cycle, which dramatizes
the the of daylight and the retrieval of light from a
dark box. Vogt concludes that Raven, who appears
before Sunlight is brought to the world, may embody
the planet Venus bringing the light of dawn.
Youngs account of astronomy among the Pueblo and Navajo compares features inherent in the
cosmological systems of the Pueblos, farmers living
in clustered selements who emphasize the Sun and
Moon as the paramount celestial beings, in contrast to
the Navajos, who see Father Sky and Mother Earth as
Songs from the Sky, Indigenous Astronomical and

Cosmological Traditions of the World: Selected
Proceedings of the First International Conference
on Ethnoastronomy: Indigenous Astronomical and
Cosmological Traditions of the World held at the
Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC, 59
September 1983 (Archaeoastronomy: the Journal of the
Center for Archaeoastronomy XIIXIII), edited by Von
Del Chamberlain, John B. Carlson & M. Jane Young,
2005. Bognor Regis: Ocarina;
ISBN 0-9540867-2-4 paperback 34.95 & US$64.97;
xiv+379 pp., 182 gs., 19 tables.
Susan Milbrath
This long-awaited publication focuses on non-Western
astronomy, incorporating research on contemporary
cultures and ethnohistorical sources. A compendium
of thirty-two articles, it provides insight into a great
variety of indigenous beliefs and practices related
to astronomy. Many articles link heaven and earth
through the perspective of landscape or seasonal
changes in the landscape, and shared constructs
can be traced across the globe, especially in relation
to the Sun, Moon, planets and seasonally changing
skies. A number of articles were updated in the 1990s
to provide added information, and few seem dated
because they oer data not readily accessible in other
sources.
A preface by Clive Ruggles provides background
on the volume, including its long delay in publication,
and a foreword by Carlson describes the conference
itself. Then Chamberlain & Young introduce three
underlying themes linking astronomy to humankind
throughout history: people seek to explain what they
observe because they cannot separate their concept of
self from their concept of the universe; people observe
the heavens to pace the events in their lives, most
notably food-related activities, but also events related
to the human life cycle; and they participate in the
celestial cycles by conducting rituals founded on the
belief that human activities can ensure that the natural
cycles will repeat in proper sequence. Chamberlain
& Young also discuss terminology, noting there is a
chronological distinction between archaeoastronomy
and ethnoastronomy but the two are so closely linked
that the term cultural astronomy is gaining currency
in reference to the integrated elds.
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most important. The Navajo also place great emphasis

on observation of the stars, which Young links to their
residential paerns, as ranchers in isolated houses,
and their origins in a more nomadic tradition.
Three additional articles treat Navajo astronomy.
Navajo medicine men worked with M.B. Peterson to
record the most important constellations using the
Gates Planetarium in Denver, a method not previously used to document traditional Navajo astronomy.
The article is marred only by some inconsistencies
between the text and gures 411 and table 1. Trudy
Grin-Pierce gives a poetic account of the Black God
sand painting ceremony in the Nightway chant, a
winter ceremony that lasts for nine nights. She provides information even more detailed than Petersons.
Chamberlain & Polly Schafsma document the star
ceilings in Canyon de Chelly, noting that the Navajo
were inuenced by the Tewa Pueblos and suggesting
that Navajo star ceilings developed from Pueblo IV
star ceilings. They conclude that all may date to the
eighteenth century. No constellations are represented
and the purpose of the paintings is not to map the
cosmos but rather to provide protection and benecial
eects at sacred sites.
Claire Farrer traces the imagery of the lunar
month among the Mescalero Apache: commensuration between the solar and lunar calendars is not a
problem because they keep separate counts, coordinating them by starting the lunar year at the rst crescent
aer the summer solstice. This form of adjustment
may be the way many indigenous cultures handled
the disjunction between the two cycles.
Alice Kehoe documents the fascinating complexity in painted designs on Plains tipis and altars,
relating specic designs to Blackfoot astronomical
concepts. The sky itself is an all-encompassing tipi
among the more nomadic Plain tribes. The circular
earth lodge plays a similar role in the agricultural
societies, such as the Mandan and Hidasta. The illustrations are wonderful but images of the winter
tipi and Hailstone tipi are reversed in gures 5 and 6.
Ronald Goodmans article on Lakota stars provides a
fascinating link between the terrestrial realm and the
heavens, again echoing the concepts in Momadays
article (these two articles should have been published
in sequence). The bright winter stars of the Race Track
reect the paern of the Black Hills. Traditionally, an
annual ceremonial journey through the Black Hills
mirrored the path of the Sun through these important
constellations.
B.H. Johnston documents sky stories from the
Anishnaubaeg (Anishinabe, also known as Ojibway
or Chippewa). Aer the great ood, Sky-Woman gave
birth to the Anishnaubaeg and they reached land

when an island emerged on the back of a turtle. The
Sun is the father of the Anishinaubaeg and the Moon
was put in the sky to remind people of their genesis
and to honour women. The cosmos records their past,
present and future, and their moral course in life is
derived from the skies.
Given the broad scope of John Carlsons article,
spanning an area from the Great Plains to Panama, it
is not surprising that not all the data on turtle imagery
can be neatly packaged. In a number of cases, citations
are missing. For example, he cites no source for his
identication of the Twin War gods in the Southwest
as the Sun and Venus, which contradicts Youngs identication of the Zuni Twin War Gods as the Morning
and Evening stars. He makes interesting cross-cultural connections between the turtle and symbols of
quincunx designs, which are in turn connected with
symbols of warfare and the four-pointed Great Star.
He also links the great Mother Turtle of North America
with images of the earth in Panama and Mesoamerica.
His aempt to make broad connections, however,
sometimes conicts with the evidence, especially in
relation to Mesoamerican concepts.
Stanislaw Iwaniszewski provides a truly global
perspective of concepts related to Venus. He explores
the dichotomy between the principles of light and
dark, and the realms of Venus in the east and west.
Lucifer seems linked with the Morning Star but the
Morning Star is also connected with the Virgin Mary
or Christ. (Christ is more directly linked with the Sun
in the Christian tradition.) The article also documents
gender variations in imagery of Venus, as well as data
about the names for other planets in a number of different traditions.
Weldon Lamb studies the range of astronomical
beliefs in a single Tzotzil Maya community, including
data about celestial direction, stars, constellations and
planets, as well as images of the earth and underworld.
Lamb compiles data from a number of dierent Tzotzil
villages, providing a very useful comparative perspective. Frank Lipps article on the Mixe should be read by
all who are interested in the Mesoamerican calendar
and astronomy. He includes data on stars, the Sun,
the Moon, and Venus, as well as various calendars. A
Sacred Round of 260 days and numbered year-bearers,
reminiscent of Aztec and Mixtec calendars, integrates
with an agricultural calendar of 365 days. This calendar has a short month at the end of a cycle of paired
20-day months. There is no formal intercalation, but
every four years one day is lowered into the ve-day
month. Lipp also records a number of lile known
cycles, such as a 845-day cycle involving two dierent
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almanacs in the Sacred Round and a ritual count that

completes its cycle in 3380 days (13 260 days), as well
as a 3180-day cycle that may relate to Venus.
Gary Urtons article on Quechua astronomy notes
that similar stars and constellations are recognized
from one community to the next, including star-tostar and dark cloud constellations. He discusses the
calendar as a social construct, integrating agricultural
tasks with religious festivals, and the appropriation of
elements of one into representations of the other. He
explores celestial representations in calendrical constructs, noting that only observations of the Pleiades
(the storehouse) and Orion (the plough) are directly
associated with points in the agricultural cycle.
In the longest article, Peter Roe discusses shared
cosmological concepts as part of a meta-cosmology
that spread from the lowlands to highland Peru prior
to 1000 . He explores the paern of mythic substitution in South America, comparing lowland Shipibo
and highland Quechua ethnoastronomy. He uses
Levi-Straussian models of opposition, transformation
and substitution, introducing his own notions of Dual
Triadic Dualism and adding some post-structuralist
perspectives. He documents more than 25 Shipibo
asterisms, including the Milky Way, the Sun, Moon,
planets, and constellations. The canoe voyages of the
Sun and Moon refer to an eastwest path related to
the equinoxes, following the course of a celestial river,
while Caymans Canoe (identied as the Pleiades,
Hyades and Orion), travelling across the current of the
river, is linked with the solstices. The celestial river, in
turn, relates to seasonal cycles, for the annual ooding
disperses the sh and concentrates the animals. The
dry season connes the sh to the river, making them
easier to catch, while the animals are dispersed and
harder to hunt.
Joseph Woodside explores Amahuaca astronomy
from the rain forest on the eastern Andes. He details
how data on ethnoastronomy are gathered in the
eld. A number of celestial observations resonate in
other articles, such as the notion that when the Moons
horns point up the weather is dry and sunny. He
discusses a series of 14 asterisms with numbers 13
and 14 representing Magellanic Clouds. Asterisms
17 bring Sunny weather and the season of gardening, whereas numbers 812 bring the rainy season.
He also documents a few names for planets, including Jupiter, which is known as large star, wife of the
Moon (p. 234).
Marci DOlne Campos focuses on the astronomy
of a small island o the coast of Brazil, near So Paulo,
with only 220 inhabitants. He analyzes the Cariara
perspective of natural phenomena of time, space, and
place, and their concepts of earthsky relations. Meteorites and special stones found on the island are related to their notion that falling stones create thunder.
The solstice extremes are marked on the horizon by the
position of neighbouring islands. They relate changing
positions of the Sun and Moon to the tides. They explain that the earth oscillating horizontally around the
local vertical axis (zenith-nadir) results in the changing
solar positions and the solstice extremes.
Edmundo Magaa analyzes Carib sources, using
the structuralist framework of Levi-Strauss. He notes
that the principles of Carib astronomy are found in
mythology rather than in informants accounts. He
deduces that all the stars used for navigation have
declinations that fall within the solstice extremes. The
opposition of Pleiades and Scorpius is incorporated
in the agricultural cycle and observations of the solstices, but the Caribs also linked a triad formed by the
Pleiades, Orion and Canis Major to the solstices. He
discusses the internal logic of the system and summarizes how the Carib system ts into the framework
of tropical astronomy.
Fabiola Jara surveys constellations of the Arawak
speakers, one of the most widely distributed South
American language groups. Jara catalogues Arawak
beliefs about stars, constellations, and the Milky Way.
Orions dawn rise heralds the dry season, the preferred
season for shing, and the dawn rise of the Pleiades
announces the new year and the beginning of the
agricultural season. In areas north of the Amazon,
Scorpius is a water boa that rises at dawn to announce
the December rains, and Antares is variously referred
to as the eye of the snake or prey in its belly. To the
south, the celestial snake is an anaconda, but there
are dierent interpretations about which stars form
the snake. He notes that the ordering of the night sky
conveys zoological information and that the asterisms
are used as mnemonics for alerting people to the time
for planting maize and to cycles in the annual round
of animal behaviour.
Allen Roberts describes Tabwa cosmology, in
southeastern Zaire. Astronomy and religion help to
account for lifes surprises. Meteors and comets are
especially important in explaining human misfortune.
The seasonal changes in positioning of the Milky
Way are coordinated with solar positions, with the
northsouth direction referring to the dry season and
the equinoxes, and the eastwest position representing the rainy season and the solstices (an opposite
concept is expressed in Roes Shipibo data). The Tabwa
hero is lunar, whereas the Sun is a dangerous being.
Dominique Zahan, discussing the Moon in Africa,
introduces the concept of cosmic metonymy, which
366
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links events observed in the heavens to those seen

on earth. Moon and Sun symbolize a broad opposition in terms of seasonal duality of wet and dry and
gender divisions of female and male. Clive Ruggles
& David Turton focus on the Mursi of Ethiopia, who
have a 13-month calendar that requires adjustment
to keep in synchrony with the season. Studying an
uncontaminated system still in operation, they recorded dierences in the name of the current month
but the system seems to work because people agree
to disagree and because there is a general agreement
on which month corresponds to the beginning of the
rains. The seasonal cycle and subsistence activities
are well documented in their table 1, which shows the
approximate months overlapping with ve dierent
seasons, some much longer than others. The onset of
the rains, the lunar count, solar horizon positions and
stellar events are all linked to the cycle of the annual
Omo ood. Their table 2 shows the month begins
when the new Moon is sighted, but surely the authors
mean the rst crescent?
McKim Malville & R.N. Swaminathan discuss the
Hindu Sun temples in the Tanjore district of southern
India. These temples are a model of the cosmos with
the earth-womb in the centre. An astronomical hierophany has been documented that involves a beam of
light entering the temple. The ceremony symbolizes
the Sun worshiping Shiva by visiting his temple once
a year and bathing his image in light. The orientation
of the temples is not uniform, so the event occurs at
dierent times of year in dierent temples. Nor is
the image illuminated the same, but many represent
Shiva. The researchers conclude that the cult developed during the eleventh century, when heightened
sunspot activity led to eorts to ritually cleanse the
Suns surface. Indo-Malay cosmology is central to
Gene Ammarells interpretations of the star calendars
of Java. Using the planetarium revealed that key stellar events did not generally occur at the meridian or
at the horizon. The changing position of Orion, representing the Plough, is in accord with the seasonal
activities, the constellation upright while ploughs are
in use, and tipped over at the end of the season, like
a plough in storage.
Navigating the Pacic is the subject of Ben
Finneys article, focusing on the Central Caroline Islands, one of the few places where non-instrumental
navigation is preserved. A 32-point star compass is
learned by memory and navigators have to allow
for current and wind direction. They have to know a
succession of stars with similar declinations to their
key stars. By day, they observe the Sun when it is low
on the horizon. In overcast skies, they steer by ocean
swells. Polynesians are now relearning the ancient

methods of navigation. Their indigenous system focused on zenith stars and stars observed on the horizon, but their observations were keyed to a wind rose.
An experimental voyage from the Hawaiian Islands
to Tahiti and back allowed the researchers to beer
understand how these navigation techniques work.
Frederick H. Damon focuses on the Woodlark
(Muyuw) group. As part of the Kula ring, they are
linked to other islands, including Trobriand Island,
which has a similar calendar keyed to the equinoxes
and summer solstice, and a year is based on the cycle
of yam agriculture. The new Moon (actually rst crescent?) begins the Muyuw month, but those in the eastern area have twelve lunar months, while those in the
central area have 13. His table 1 correlates the Eastern
Muyuw agricultural cycle with the tides and dominant
winds, month names, and the two main seasons and
their dividing points, as well as a sequence of rising star
groups. One wishes we had such a table for other cultures. Nonetheless, one oddity must be noted, the rise
of Orionss Belt before the Pleiades (which would seem
to be the reverse of what actually happens in the sky).
Norman Tindales article on Australian aboriginal astronomy is unique for incorporating the authors
extensive data collected in the 1930s, long before
anthropologists generally recorded such detailed information on astronomy. Some aspects of the article
may seem controversial, such as the notion that the
myths themselves are a sort of culture history, and
that the myths encode a 4000-year old racial memory
(p. 363). Interesting is the belief that the Sun, Moon
and other heavenly beings originally lived on earth,
and that they can return by travelling though the
earth. The female gender of the Sun is explained by
the fact that women tend res and keep the re sticks
burning during travel. There is a connection between
the Moon and boomerangs in myth, noteworthy
considering the similar shape of the crescent Moon.
The planets are wanderers still having adventures:
Jupiter is linked with a specic rock outcrop, and the
planets position near the horizon is associated with
drought; Venus controls the water of the Milky Way
and rain in general, and specic ceremonies entreat
Venus to replenish the well with rains. Artworks (gs.
89) representing the stars are made during an annual
Increase Ceremony when enactments of star myths are
performed to increase the number of dingos.
It would not be possible to neatly summarize this
wonderful volume, so I have resorted to highlighting
points in each article. With the dome of heaven as
a space we all share, it is not surprising that many
concepts appear repeatedly in our records of eth367
Review Articles
noastronomy. The volume can inspire us to look for

such paerns in cultures in the past, for they certainly
must exist. I found myself repeatedly seeing overlaps
with ethnoastronomy and archaeoastronomy in Mesoamerica, not because of contact between cultures but
due to the shared environment of heaven and earth
and the internal logic of keying seasonal events to
changes in the skies.
The book is well laid out and the argument develops logically over the eight chapters. Chapter 1 introduces the cast and outlines the two dominant models
for the emergence of AMHS the so-called Out of
Africa and Multiregional Hypotheses. These dier not
only in their expectations of how and where AMHS
evolved, but also in the fate of the Neanderthals. Finlayson cleaves towards the former, with AMHS emerging from Africa and the Neanderthals going extinct
without issue. Chapter 2 primes the ecological canvas,
outlining the major vegetation zones of the Pleistocene
and the herbivore groups that occupied them. Chapter
3 outlines the ecological parameters for expansion and
extinction, before outlining what we think we know
of the selement history of the Pleistocene Old World.
Europe then becomes the focus, with four major periods of colonization and (subsequent) extinction being
dened; these are mapped onto climatic variability
and habitat-tracking, the basic premise being that
warm or stable conditions favour expansion, cold or
unstable ones contraction and extinction.
In Chapter 4, we are re-introduced to the two
main protagonists and the evolutionary principles at
stake. Amongst other issues, the controversial topics
of hybridisation, genetics and ecomorphology are
discussed. On the laer, Finlayson argues that the
standard view that the Neanderthal morphology arose
from, and conferred a great advantage in, cold climates
(see also Aiello & Wheeler 2003) has been over-stated
and that life-style has a strong role to play. It is here
that he also identies a complex paern of population
ebb and ow, citing some 16 events of colonization
gene glow and contraction during the Pleistocene in
Europe. Chapter 5 then picks up on the well-rehearsed
behavioural contrasts between AMHS and Neanderthals. These are portrayed as two alternative ways of
being human (p. 132) reecting the dierent social
and adaptive strategies each species developed to cope
in dierent habitats, rather than reections of major
cognitive dierences. This is a view that is gaining
much ground (e.g. dErrico 2003).
In Chapter 6 the specic climatic background
to Oxygen Isotope Stage (OIS) 3, the time period
of Neanderthal extinction, is presented. Herein lies
the crux. Given that glacials caused the contraction
and fragmentation of Neanderthal populations into
southern refugia, where they would have been susceptible to a number of factors that could easily lead
them to the brink of extinction, it was the frequency
and duration of bad events during OIS3 that meant
they failed to recover as they had in previous similar
events. While climate drove the process, the proximate
cause probably varied a very clever caveat. What
Susan Milbrath
Florida Museum of Natural History
110 Dickinson Hall
Museum Road & Newell Drive
Gainesville, FL 32611
USA
Guilty or Not Guilty?

Neanderthals and Modern Humans: an Ecological and
Evolutionary Perspective, by Clive Finlayson, 2004.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press;
ISBN 0-521-82087-1 hardback 60 & US$85;
255 pp., 38 gs., 6 tables.
Mark J. White
The central theme of this book is extinction. In a world
beset by climate change, devastating environmental
destruction and grave concerns over declining biodiversity and endangered species, this is an emotionally
charged topic. Finlayson turns his gaze to perhaps the
hoest extinction outside the dinosaurs and their
infamous asteroid: the demise of the Neanderthals,
the most recently deceased archaic Europeans.
The central message of Finlaysons ecological
and evolutionary approach is that the extinction of the
Neanderthals and the arrival of anatomically modern
Homo sapiens (AMHS) in Europe are temporally coincident but essentially independent events. Viewing
Neanderthals as subject to the same evolutionary
forces as any other mammalian species one that
just happened to use culture as an extended phenotypical adaptation Finlayson builds the case that
their extinction can be adequately explained by the
impact of climatic and environmental factors on their
distribution and demography, without any AMHS
involvement. This is a minority but valid view.
CAJ 16:3, 3689
doi:10.1017/S0959774306280223
368
Review Articles
Finlayson is clear on, however, is that modern humans

were not the villains of the piece. As he makes clear in
Chapter 7, active competition between the two groups
is not a strong argument because neither was living
near carrying capacity and they probably exploited
dierent habitats.
Ultimately, whether one agrees with Finlayson
or not, this is a very erudite and worthwhile book
that lays out a plausible set of testable conclusions.
The diculty is that it is not always particularly well
delivered. It is highly assertive in tone. Primary data,
where included, are not always fully explained and,
once unravelled, not always as compelling as one
would expect. There are also some contradictions and,
on a couple of points, one is not really clear which
position Finlayson is taking.
None of these problems are damaging to the
central hypothesis. For many, however, the biggest
sticking point will be that it was not only the Neanderthals that went extinct at about this time: arguably, so
too did all other archaic hominin species, even those
in tropical latitudes and exploiting very dierent environments (Flores possibly excepted). Can this truly
be a coincidence or was the emergence of AMHS from
Africa, about 50,000 years ago, the rst in a long line
of ecological tragedies we have bestowed upon the
planet, directly or indirectly?
Mark J. White
University of Durham
South Road
Durham
DH1 3LE
UK
References
Aiello, L.C. & P. Wheeler, 2003. Neanderthal thermoregulation and the glacial climate, in Neanderthals and Modern Humans in the European Landscape During the Last
Glaciation: Archaeological Results of the Stage 3 Project,
eds. T. van Andel & W. Davies. (McDonald Institute
Monographs.) Cambridge: McDonald Institute for
Archaeological Research, 14766.
dErrico, F., 2003. The invisible frontier: a multiple species
model for the origin of behavioural modernity. Evolutionary Anthropology 12, 188202.
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