The biography _Farther Than Any Man: The Rise and Fall of Captain James Cook_ (Pocket Books) by Martin Dugard tells the story of the man who was arguably the greatest adventurer in the world. It is an amazing story of a driven man who repeatedly accomplished the impossible. For instance, it was simply not possible for Cook to become a Captain in the Royal Navy, as he was a farmhand’s son with no pull. He worked nine years in the commercial fleet in the North Sea, and against the judgement of everyone, halted a promising career to go to the bottom of the ranks in the Royal Navy. He again worked swiftly up the ranks, but had no chance of becoming an officer. Only the scheming of a scientist, a Lord, and King George III got him a commission, to go on a circumnavigation for a particular astronomical observation in Tahiti.

Cook commanded three circumnavigations, and racked up an impressive record, sailing farther north and farther south than anyone had. He found and charted new islands throughout the Pacific. He was an exemplary commander, a brilliant shiphandler who was reluctant to use the lash on his men. He also pioneered the use of an anti-scurvy diet that kept his men healthy. He kept close notes on the tribes he encountered and in the beginning, at least, had profitable and friendly relations with them. Eventually, worn out from adventuring, and not at home either in England or in what he wished to be a paradise of the Pacific, he became frustrated, and his frustration led directly to difficulties on his command, and in his death at the hands of the Sandwich Islanders.

Cook emerges from these pages as a complex figure, a flawed hero who can justly be called the greatest adventurer in history. The book includes fascinating accounts of naval facts, like what the sailors ate and by what means they were punished at sea. The way Dugard has told the story it is by turns exciting, comic, inspiring, and sad, and the narrative never flags.

Dugard’s review of Cook’s career is epic, muscular and highly personal. As Dugard reveals, here was a man fueled to success, and doomed to failure, by a series of inner motivations, not the least of which was his desire to please those in authority. Rising from the lower ranks of the navy, he made the incredible leap from ship’s master (essentially, an NCO) to ship’s officer, then further upwards. For sheer genius and achievement, Cook is to Pacific exploration what Columbus was to the Atlantic. Interestingly, while he is virtually deified in eastern Australia as the Great Discoverer, he was not the first European to visit this continent, nor did he regard New South Wales as being exciting as others places (New Zealand, to which he frequently returned, was his favorite spot). Dugard is a natural storyteller and the meteoric rise (and precipitous downfall) of this heroic figure, while already familiar to some of us, is fresh and full of new insights, particularly regarding the Second Vogage of Discovery, his gruelling survey of the southernmost latitudes, and (arguably) discovery of Antarctica.

This is a revisionist history (isn’t it all?) of a truly remarkable figure, who created an empire greater even than the Romans, and he did it from scratch in just a few decades. He was a law-giver who essentially outlawed the culture he came from–transforming it from a Scots-like clan of cattle rustlers and raiders, to a monolithic, highly disciplined cavalry of conquerers. He devised entirely new military tactics that were as successful against the cities of the Chinese as against the armored knights of the West. And they started out as a people, he claims, who did not even know how to weave cloth!

Weatherford here takes up the challenge of accenting the positive impact of his brutal conquests. Among other things he makes the case for his setting the West up for the Renaissance, the introduction of paper money, the postal system, Religious tolerance, and new vegetables. He bases much of this on new scholarship, rather than the hysterical propaganda of the aristocrats whom he threatened. Partly based on the mysterious “Secret History of the Mongols,” the author’s own travels in Mongolia, and contacts with Mongolian revivalists, he makes this bit of history accessible even to the most prejudiced reader.

Strangely omitted, though, is the fascinating tale that the geneticists have discovered about his Y chromosome, which appears to show that he might just have been the most prolific lover in the last couple of millennia! Too recent, maybe.

One of the remarkable features of his style was that he hated the elite and the aristocrats, and slaughtered as many as he could. He loved the professional men, the teachers and doctors, and especially the craftsmen and engineers, and did not even tax them. My kinda guy!

Weatherford’s style of writing is lively and easy to read. The maps are just detailed enough to be informative without overburdening the reader in detail. This is not an exhaustive account of every battle, every city destroyed, which would be mind-numbing history as usually written, but rather a wide survey of events and their impact on the world to come. And I especially enjoyed his description of the military tactics employed by the cavalry, and his use of siege engines and gunpowder, which would be new to most readers.

Perhaps one of his greatest inventions, though, is that of diplomatic immunity. Any city, and there were several, who murdered or mutilated his envoys as a method of rejecting his terms of surrender, would be ruthlessly razed and the inhabitants slaughtered. Even in those days, the word got around…

This is quite a tale, well told.

When Genghis Khan and his armies exploded out of the steppe in the early thirteenth century, no one on the Eurasian continent was prepared for his innovative style of warfare. Through years of what was essentially civil war, the Mongols of that period, as well as the surrounding tribes, had already refined various elements of shock warfare. But Temujin – Genghis Khan’s birth name – added much to the Mongols’ arsenal that was previously missing. He integrated surrounding tribes into his Mongol army; he ensured looting was strictly controlled and that shares of it were divided on a pre-assigned basis; he killed off the aristocracies of the tribes, cities, and empires he defeated, thereby ensuring they would not rally their people to turn on him at a later time; he organized his armies, and even his society, through a decimal system that smoothed the functioning of his eventual empire; he instituted laws that even he, a great khan, must obey.

What resulted from these innovations was unprecedented: an army with the same benefits of speed and maneuver that had always been a part of the traditional tactics of the tribes of the steppe melded together with an effective bureaucratic leadership that was very different from the typical kin-based and ad hoc tribal relationships. This was Temujin’s creation, and he perfected it in numerous battles to unify Mongolia under his leadership. In 1206, two years after the final battle to assume control of all Mongolia, he took the name Genghis Khan, and prepared to take his army out into the world.

Jack Weatherford’s remarkable narrative of these events captures the creativity of Genghis Khan and the Mongols in a way that no book I’ve read before ever has. Whereas most histories of the Mongols have long emphasized their unprecedented success in war, Weatherford builds a solid case that shows the social and economic achievements of the Mongols may have been even more remarkable than their adaptations to warfare. The author makes the argument that the Mongols were fairly civilized by the standards of the thirteenth century, almost never engaging in torture, mutilation, or maiming. While they were quick to kill, and left an unprecedented path of destruction in their path, especially to those who resisted their rule, conquest and loot were their goals, not gratuitous death and injury.

After making himself the undisputed ruler of the steppes, an area about the size of Western Europe, Genghis Khan began moving south and west, conquering the Jurched (Manchurian) tribes ruling Northern China and the kingdom of Khwarizm, an empire under the rule of a Turkic sultan that stretched from what is modern Afghanistan to the Black Sea. Khwarizm was an important catch, as the Muslims there were noted for their steel- and glass-making, as well as numerous exotic commodities. As each conquest was assimilated, Genghis Khan took what was special and distinctive about the place and employed it productively. Craftsmen, miners, artisans, interpreters, and specialists in warfare were all absorbed into the Mongol Empire and tasked according to their specialty. The Mongols were nomads, but the genius of Genghis Khan was to recognize the value of even the smallest and most foreign of civilized talents and to use it to his empire’s advantage.

Genghis Khan died in 1227 – a mere sixteen years after he began his world conquest. With the exception of India and China, he had conquered everything he set his mind to. It would now be up to his sons and their children to finish what in the shortness of time he could not. (Genghis Khan dies about halfway through Weatherford’s book, leaving plenty of space to write about the continued expansion of the empire.) Interestingly, the empire seems to have expanded more by the momentum of its founder’s achievements, even after his death, than by the skill of his heirs. Genghis Khan had always been careful not to give his children too much power, as he sought to break away from the traditional kin-based ties of the steppe in order to more smoothly run his empire. In mediating disputes involving his sons, he sometimes took the side of non-kin against them. Until late in his life, he neglected their training as leaders. The consequences of this became immediately apparent in the actions of his son and first heir to the empire, Ogodei.

But, even with sub par and occasionally strife-ridden leadership, the empire continued to expand. Some of the Mongol leaders to follow Genghis Khan were exceptional leaders, while others were not, but the combination of unbeatable virtues in the empire was fixed in a way that it hardly mattered in the first few decades after his death. Nothing outside of the empire could stop it, only enduring struggles from within. As Weatherford details, even as the empire began to split into four quadrants, trade and other imperial activities continued. Two Mongol rulers from separate quadrants could be at war with each other and still allow trade and investments between the sides to continue unmolested. Eventually this relationship would break down, and when it did, it would spell the end of the empire. The Mongols did not create anything. They conquered and looted. And the trade routes needed to move their loot from one part of the empire to another were necessary to keep the empire strong. When those trade routes began to close down, and the economy contracted, the Mongol rulers in each area needed to depend on their local political skills to survive. Some did, but others never made the transition.

Weatherford’s book is a marvel – the best of more than half-a-dozen histories I have read on the subject. Writing about the Mongols has always been a complex task for two seemingly contradictory reasons. On the one hand, their widespread empire requires a scholar to dig through a variety of source material written by those conquered by the Mongols, which many find daunting; on the other hand, the Mongols themselves were illiterate and secretive, and so their own literature was almost nonexistent and, when found, difficult to understand. Given these odd circumstances, histories on the Mongols are usually hit-and-miss affairs. Scholars tend to be great at explaining some part of the Mongols, but fail to maintain that quality in other areas. Weatherford’s extensive experience in Mongolia, researching Genghis Khan and his empire, makes up for what he loses by not going to the source material outside of English; his accomplishment is a narrative of the highest order.