Brilliant Isles review – An alternative history of Britain through art

Brilliant Isles: Art That Made Us by James Hawes (Old Street Publishing, £7.19).

No, it didn’t. Art did not make us. We made art. Brilliant Isles is a brilliant book, and the BBC series of the same name may be a brilliant series. We can interpret previous eras through artistic output but no, we are not “made” by it. 

Even the lucky few who got to see Spong Man in 5th century Norfolk, probably a handful of relatives at most, were not “made” by the hunching statuette urn. Certainly, nobody in Suffolk was.

Mr — or is it Ms, or He/She — Spong, the artefact that opens the book, reflects an early need to depict the human form and observe funeral rites and is important for that. Art, in all forms, influences profoundly and is a window on the soul of centuries-long gone, but don’t invest it with powers it simply does not have.

Rant over. James Hawes has taken up the torch handed down by Neil MacGregor, our former Director of the National Gallery and British Museum, in his exquisite BBC 2010 series, A History of The World in 100 Objects.

I’ve always kept an eye on MacGregor’s stellar career since we were childhood next-door neighbours in Glasgow’s Pollokshields. Polite, nodding acquaintances only, as we were cleft by the religious gulf that separated Glasgow Academy from St Aloysius’ College, even as late as the 1960s. I’m sure Spong Man would have disapproved.

Hawes presents a book illuminating eight epochs in British history:

Lights In the Darkness, Dark Age to Renaissance; Revolution of the Dead, Middle Ages; Queens, Feuds and Faith, Reformation; To Kill a King, 17thC; Consumers and Conscience, 18th and 19th C; Rise of the Cities, 19th C; Wars and Peace, 20th C; and Brilliant Isles, bang up to date!

Oddly, Brilliant Isles opens the BBC series, but it is the final, carefully placed capstone chapter of the book. Aunty can never resist kicking off a series with a catchy title.

The strength of this book is that the choice of art is Hawes’ alone. It is not moderated by popularity. The point is that he has spotted oddities the common gaze may have missed. I know about Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, but not The Penicuik Jewels, or The Bacton Altar Cloth. There is a lot here that even an inquisitive reader will be unaware of.

I am happy to rely on Hawes’ judgement. He has a knack for distilling important, eclectic subjects into readable “How did I never know that?” books. Other titles, The Shortest History of England, Rancid Aluminium, A White Merc with Fins, Speak for England are now on the “to read” corner of my desk.

A great strength of Brilliant Isles is that Hawes has crafted all his objects d’art into a narrative. Sometimes contrived, but never clunky, for example, we transition from the 6th century Aberlemno Stones to the 8th century Lindisfarne Gospels. The book flows.

One bite-sized page for each object, captioned by a comment from an expert, either because they really are expert, Edinburgh academic Heather Pulliam on The Staffordshire Horde, or, in the case of the 7thC poem, Y Goddin, by Michael Sheen, because he is Welsh. I hear he is also an actor.

There are also interesting “Explore Further” footers for the determined reader. Although, what Chaucer’s Wife of Bath prologue has to do with Daniel Defoe’s Moll Flanders, bawdiness apart, is beyond me.

Ranging from the Dark Ages to the present day – represented by, amongst others, Trainspotting, and Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone, Hawes brings down the curtain on his firework display with a quote from Crosby Beach sculptor, Antony Gormley.

“What are we? What the hell are we? And what are we doing here?” 

Read Hawes’ book, and you will find some hints from the art we have crafted during our long journey.