One of the growth markets in non-fiction has been the new genre of macro history. Histories of salt, the colour mauve and the Oxford English Dictionary have become bestsellers. Now Fermat’s theorem, modern geology and the history of the calendar (my favourite, by David Ewing Duncan) are accessible to ordinary people.
The popularity of these histories is due to a combination of factors. They are written for the general public with little or no assumed knowledge. They blend arcane and obscure pieces of information with momentous historical discoveries and are undergirded with a passionate enthusiasm by the author for the particular subject at hand.
While this style of non-fiction has popularised history in a way that has, for the most part, eluded academia there is an element of whimsy and self-indulgence in the writing of these books. The writer makes judgements, assumptions and conclusions that are unlikely to find their way into the weightier historical volumes.
Macro histories are often characterised by dramatic and deliberately sensationalist titles. Think The Map that Changed the World by Simon Winchester. Dava Sobel’s book, which became a mini-series, was also elaborately titled - Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time.
The new Australian book on the history of sugar is fairly circumspect by comparison. It is simply – Bittersweet : The Story of Sugar.
Like most other subjects of macro history, sugar has had a role in shaping the world. Whether it’s the rotting teeth of Queen Elizabeth I or the Rum Rebellion in colonial NSW, sugar has played a significant part in history.
The history of sugar covers thousands of years and 150 countries. That said, Macinnis’s book is a slight volume – under 200 pages. Tracing its discovery, manufacture and distribution, Bittersweet travels from New Guinea to the Caribbean.
One of the oldest agricultural crops in the world, sugar was first discovered and cultivated in New Guinea some 400 generations ago. From there it spread to India, the Middle East, the Mediterranean and Europe.
An integral element in the history of sugar is the role of the slave trade. The sugar plantations in the Caribbean were staffed by slaves and indentured workers – who might as well be slaves.
It is Macinnis’s view that the demand for sugar fuelled the slave trade. He estimates that somewhere between 12 and 20 million slaves died prematurely for the production of sugar.
While acknowledging the work of Christians like Wilberforce in eradicating slavery, the book also criticises such Christians for not taking a larger role in working against poverty in England.
While the history of sugar is certainly connected to that of slavery Macinnis becomes somewhat waylaid by this latter issue before returning to the subject under analysis.
While lacking some of literary flair of others in the genre, Bittersweet is still an interesting read. It demonstrates that every positive human discovery, in this case the delights of sugar, can be used for destructive and tragic purposes.
