The Goddess and the Bull. Catalhoyuek: An Archaeological Journey to the Dawn of Civilization

What would it have been like to live there? A high plain, holding a marshland framed by distant hills. The flat countryside allowed access to various resources and links to other communities. Cattle roamed in places, but at some point, these were brought under human control. In the meantime, there were sheep, goats and pigs to complement stands of barley and early wheat. Although this might describe countless villages of today, this was something more like a town or "settlement". Well populated for a millennium, this was a community inhabited by up to 8 000 people at one time. And the time was over nine thousand years ago at a place now known as Catalhoyuk. World-famous now, the story of this ancient settlement is graphically portrayed in this comprehensive account. James Mellaart was investigating "mounds" in Turkey, coming to Catalhoyuk in 1958. Mounds in flat places are certain signs of human habitation. First surface scrapings led Mellaart to serious excavating and the settlement began to emerge. Not only was this an ancient community, but it was large and complex. The dead were buried under house floors, domesticated animals were put on ovens for dinner, and walls were decorated with bulls' horns, while figurines interpreted as women or goddesses were scattered about. Hence, the title of this book. Both the bulls and the figurines remained in central roles as excavations proceeded and attempts to understand the inhabitants' society were debated. Mellaart, embroiled in a scandal over some Neolithic "treasures" was ultimately banned from the site by the Turkish government. Years later, another archaeologist, Ian Hodder, was granted permits to continue the work. He launched a decades-long programme, utilising hundreds of excavators, preparators and specialists in a variety of fields to sift the evidence on what Catalhoyuk was and how its people might have lived. Michael Balter couldn't interview those folks, but he details the lives of those working the site over the years with intimate - and articulate - skill. From the site's chief Hodder through the various specialists to the locals involved, he weaves an intricate tapestry of active, and interactive, lives. The result is many small portraits forming a large picture centred on this spectacular settlement. Hodder's choice as team leader brought a serious archaeological debate into closer focus. For a long time, archaeology had simply meant digging - find the site, unearth whatever artefacts were revealed and leave interpretation to the philosophers. A key point, however, continually intruded - when did humans domesticate plants and animals and where did they do it? How did agriculture change human society? Did people form communities before or after they learned to farm? Balter examines these questions thoroughly as he relates Hodder's career and how Catalhoyuk influenced his thinking and that of others in the discipline. Hodder's role proved essential in dealing

The Goddess And The Bull is a superbly written book that chronicles the fascinating archaeological site of Catalhoyuk in modern day Turkey. The book traces the history of the site, from its discoverer and first excavator James Mellaart, to the huge multidisiplinary team that continues to unearth its remains today. Catalhoyuk is both helping to answer questions that are critical to Neolithic archaeology as well as creating new ones. Why did humans decide to live together? What came first, permanent settlements or agriculture? When did animal domestication take place? Was there really mother goddess worship? These are a few of the questions that the modern team is trying to answer by studying Catalhoyuk. There was a substantial gap in time from when the site was first excavated by Mellaart until the the modern team reopened the site. The author does a fantastic job of filling in this gap by effectively explaining the differing archaeological methodologies and their evolutions and how the leader of the modern team played a prominent role in formulating one of them. What was of particular interest to me was the stark contrast between the excavations of Mellaart and the modern team. I learned a lot of interesting things by reading this book.

Science writer Michael Balter does justice to one of the most interesting (yet relatively unknown) archaelogical digs in the world. At its height around 7000 BC Catalhoyuk, on the Konya plain in Turkey, was home to as many 8,000 people, the largest gathering of human beings in one place up until then. What brought these people together? How did they live day to day? What was their culture like? All these questions and more are explored in the finely written The Goddess and The Bull. But Mr. Balter goes further and tells the fascinating story of how Catalhoyuk was rediscovered by James Mellaart in 1958 and its tortured history since then. He also gives the armchair archaeologist just enough information to have a handle on how archaeologists work without overloading the reader with arcane information. I highly recommend this book!

Michael Balter is a writer for Science magazine, and does a very good job of writing a book which is interesting on many levels. Not only is the book informative, but skillfully written so as to be enjoyable. The book begins with a history of the excavations at Çatalhöyük carried out by James Mellaart in the 1960's. By the fourh chapter, it is discussing the events leading up to the site being reopened by the eminent archaeologist Ian Hodder, who has assembled an all-star team to determine the feasibility of a new archaeological methodology. Part biography, part adventure, it is one of the few works of non-fiction which I have been unable to put down. The book serves well to provide a degree of transparency to the Çatalhöyük excavations that I've never seen before. Many of the excavators are put under a microscope, just as one of the specialists, Wendy Matthews, does to fragments of the houses they excavate. Indeed, this may be a useful metaphor: in understanding the meaning of the houses unearthed, we need to understand how it was constructed; to understand the conclusions reached by the Çatalhöyük team, we need to know the makeup of the crew. I n an email I sent earlier today to the author, I commented that the book "feels similar to an adventure novel along the lines of a Clarke novel, except that it is all real." I hold to this. The book as a whole is an exciting read, and it's rather a relief to sometimes read about an archaeological project without having to stop and reflect deeply every two pages. This is not to say that the book doesn't stimulate the mind. It is, however, written so as not to be a burden. Having read a small variety of different books on archaeological theory, I can also recommend the book as a good way of introducing oneself to the varied archaeological positions in archaeology. He writes an artful, and only slightly biased, history of theory. Most chapters are filled with background. It is also the first book I have read to describe the methodological differences created by the postprocessual archaeological approach, and the real-world consequences of managing a team by that approach. As a student who is planning to enter graduate school in archaeology next fall, this is especially useful and thought-provoking. Even if one simply wishes to explore the intricacies of a site, without any archaeological background, "The Goddess and the Bull" is an exciting book. It also lays out enough groundwork and knowledge of the site's participants to be able to usefully glean additional information from the excavation's website, Çatalhöyük Excavations. As an area studies book, it lacks the extreme amounts of data normally accompanying such a book. It also shouldn't be used as a primary source. I would be surprised, however, if either of these were Balter's goals. Indeed, it may contribute something more to the field, that maybe more archaeologists should be aware of: by writing about the site in a narrative, one might be able to

"The Goddess and the Bull" is a fasinating and well written book, enjoyable at many levels. Michael Balter began thinking about Catalhoyuk when Science magazine assigned him to write a story about the excavations back in 1998. He became fascinated by the subject, found reasons to go back to the dig to write follow up articles, and eventually became the excavation's official biographer. The story begins with James Mellaart's discovery of the mound at Catalhoyuk and the stunning realization that it was Neolithic (New Stone Age) from top to bottom--to use Mellaart's phrase, no "filthy Roman muck" cluttered this site. Balter describes the excavation of the site in the 1960s, the excitement about the discovery of "Goddess" figurines, Mellaart's expulsion from Turkey in the aftermath of the mysterious Dorak Affair, and the long hiatus between Mellaart's departure in 1965 and the arrival of Ian Hodding's team in 1993. The narrative offers many insights about the debates among "processual" and "post-processual" archaeologists, as well as the backgrounds of the many interesting people who choose to live and dig at Catalhoyuk year after year. But the stars of the book are Catalhoyuk and its people. What do we know about these villagers, those generations that occupied the site for nearly 1,000 years? Did they worship bulls or goddesses? Were their cattle domesticated or wild or something in between? Why did they bury their dead beneath the floors of their houses? Why did they bury and sometimes burn their houses, only to build new structures on top of the old, over and over again? And why did they choose to live together in such large numbers in the middle of what was then a marsh? There may never be any final answer to any of these questions, or to the myriad of other questions raised by Catalhoyuk and other Neolithic sites. Still, half the pleasure is in the journey, and Balter has done an excellent job of describing a journey that is truly marvelous.