I believe in Yesterday - Tim Moore

[cantarella]

Gestern abend habe ich dieses Buch im Stauffacher abgeholt, und - kaum daheim angekommen - gleich drei Kapitel davon "verschlungen". Tim Moore schreibt sehr amüsant und in einer Form, dass sich seine Erlebnisse beim Lesen in meinem Kopf direkt in einen Kopfkino-Film verwandelt haben. Gelesen habe ich gestern das Kapitel über Eisenzeit-Darstellung, dann die Erlebnisse von Tim als Römer sowie das Kapitel über seinen Besuch auf der Haut-Koenigsbourg mit der Company of St. George. Nicht weiter verwunderlich, hat mich dieses Kapitel bisher am meisten amüsiert (zumal darin einige mir bekannte Leute vorkommen).

Ich kann mir vorstellen, dass dieses Buch für Nicht-Living-History-Betreiber viel weniger interessant/lustig ist als für uns Reenactoren (dies liest sich übrigens auch aus den Rezensionen auf amazon heraus).

Mein (momentanes) Urteil über dieses Buch: Very nice and funny!

Hier die Artikelbeschreibung von amazon.co.uk:

In 1989, Tim Moore moved into the last house in Chiswick with an outside toilet. Intrigued by a subsequent encounter with an elderly former resident, and shamed to confess the phobic haste with which he demolished this facility, he finds himself inspired to travel back to the land before now, experiencing the horny-handed hardships and homespun pleasures enjoyed and endured by Moores gone by. The journey that follows takes him through the world of historical re-enactment, sitting at the bare and grubby feet of retromaniacs who have seen their future in the past, and learning their singular ways. Living on bramble leaves, Johnny cake and porridge, Moore travels from the Iron Age to the Steam Age, sharing straw beds and daft hats with period obsessives driven by socio-historical curiosity, disillusionment with the pampered fecklessness of the modern world, or a simple nostalgia for campfires, flatulence and brutality.As a Roman legionary, Moore is put to the Gaulish sword twelve times a day for the entertainment of the Danish public; as master of a Tudor manor's domestic staff, he works his young charges to heatstroked collapse, and serves up moat-drowned hare to the sneering gentry. He crosses the snake-happy Kentucky wilderness with a Vietnam veteran and his ox-drawn wagon, gets arrested as a Yankee spy in the Louisiana no man's land, and lets a party of taunting French schoolchildren have it with a medieval bazooka. Along the way, he meets living historians for whom authenticity means pulling their own teeth out and dyeing outfits in urine, and those who stride back through time with a Nokia and a packet of fags stuffed down their codpiece. "I Believe in Yesterday" is an odyssey through 2,000 years of filth and fury, where men were men, the nights were black, the world was your outside toilet and everything tasted faintly of leeks.