Gore Vidal's Creation: An entertaining adventure tale of the ancient world
Philosophical and religious dreams at the heart of the Axial Age
The Book:
Creation: A Novel
By Gore Vidal
Vintage International
First published in 1981
The Talk:
Gore Vidal’s novel tells the story of a fictional Cyrus Spitama, grandson of Zoroaster and friend of Xerxes, in 5th Century B.C. He dictates his life story—including his travels to India and Cathay (China)—to Democritus in Athens as age and blindness overtake him.
Unsurprisingly, the title Creation holds multiple meanings. The narrator hungers to know where the universe came from, what caused it, and why there is evil. But creation also means “everything that is”—and his life story encompasses the vastness of the world. It is also is a story about the creation of the world as we know it—post-Socrates, post-monotheism, post-Buddha, post-Confucius. In other words, post-Axial Age.
It’s a world of wonder, with witches, oracles, curses, poisons, dragon’s blood with magical curative properties, prostitution cults, and secret religious rites in which hallucinogenic plants are consumed in large quantities. Much of the story circles around political intrigues within the Persian harem, which is often equal to or greater than the King in power. (Esther isn’t mentioned, but it’s definitely the world in which the Book of Esther makes sense.)
Gore also does a great job of describing the smells, tastes, art, and music of the times. Aristocrats color their beards in wild colors. Party rooms are filled oppressively with burning incense, as courtiers lay on divans, and young women play harps.
Within this courtly world, new ideas are emerging. Greek democracies, who change leaders with every whim of popular feeling, appear ludicrous to the Persians. The Buddha (among other wise men) is challenging the political order in India. And Confucius in China is creating a whole new class of gentleman-knights that will transform that civilization as well. (Socrates also makes an appearance as an annoying teenager who gets his ideas from his own personal demon-spirit.)
The best parts are the philosophical conversations. Near the beginning, Spitama converses with Anaxagoras:
I then asked the grimmest of Greek questions, first phrased by the insufficently hard-headed author of The Persians. “Is it not better for a man to never to have been born?”
“Certainly not.” The response was brisk. “Just to be able to study the sky is reason enough to be alive.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t see the sky.”
“Then listen to music.” Anaxagoras was always to the point.
Spitama is skeptical of these new ideas, and yet as the story progresses they clearly influence him. He’s a Zoroastrian to the end, believing in a righteousness God, a final judgement, and eternal life—but he ends his life with a lot of questions to think about. As the grandson of Zoroaster, he’s supposed to be evangelizing the world, saving their souls for the Wise Lord, but he fails miserably.
In the middle of the novel, Spitama attempts to convert one of the Indian rulers. King Pasenadi replies:
“Of course. Of course. You worship a sky god. So do we, don’t we, Sariputra?”
“Yes, indeed. We have every sort of god imaginable,” said the tall, fragile-looking Sariputra.
“Including those that are unimaginable,” added Pasenadi.
“The Wise Lord is the only god,” I said.
“We also have only gods, too. Don’t we, Sariputra?”
“Quantities, my dear.”
Gore’s narrator is an entertaining storyteller, a kind of “worldly wise” guide to the ancient world who frequently corrects the historical record, as we know it. And there are several memorable encounters. The build up to and meeting with Buddha drips with awesome mystery, almost what meeting an extraterrestrial might feel like.
But perhaps one of my favorite scenes was with a banker in Babylon. As he chats away in his dim, dusty room full of clay tablets, his fingers spin across an abacus. He’s the all-knowing, all-seeing anonymous influence behind the kings, and pharaohs, and tyrants of the age.
Be advised: There are a lot of names to follow, especially during the Greek-Persian wars. If I was well-versed on that historic event, it probably would’ve meant more to me. But if keeping track of a lot of characters bothers you, I found that I could muddle through and still enjoy it.