Tag Archives: Steven Pressfield

‘Gates of Fire,’ by Steven Pressfield

“Listen to me, boy. Only gods and heroes can be brave in isolation. A man may call upon courage only one way, in the ranks with his brothers-in-arms, the line of his tribe and his city. Most piteous of all states under heaven is that a man alone, bereft of the gods of his home and his polis. A man without a city is not a man. He is a shadow, a shell, a joke and a mockery….”

Radio talk show host Hugh Hewitt has a custom, whenever he interviews a new guest, of catechizing them on books they might have read. One he always asks about is Steven Pressfield’s Gates of Fire, a fictionalized account of the Battle of Thermopylae. So when a deal on the book showed up, I decided to buy it, though Greek antiquity is outside my usual field of interest.

What I encountered was a story of astonishing intensity. There were enough incidental resemblances to my own recently finished Erling Skjalgsson saga that I’m glad I waited till now to read it, so I can say without any doubt that I wasn’t influenced by it any way. (Though my books are not nearly so hard-barked.)

In the aftermath of the Battle of Thermopylae, where 300 Spartans died in a heroic last stand against the invading forces of the Persian Empire, one severely wounded Greek is discovered on the battlefield, and brought before the victorious King Xerxes, who wishes to know what sort of men these were who stood so valiantly.

The Greek, whose name is Xeones, explains that he is not properly a Spartan, but a servant, a squire to one of the officers. He is happy, even proud, to tell the story of his life and of how he came to know the Spartans and their ways, and how they bore themselves up through that last terrible massacre.

Gates of Fire is a harrowing book, one that dives deep into the warrior ethos in its most purified form, not sparing the horrific details of what happens during a battle. I read it with both horror and fascination, as I imagine most readers will. This is not a book for the faint of heart.

Historically, from my own reading, I know that in spite of all this, author Pressfield has done a little covering up. The Spartans, whose courage is unquestioned, were in fact one of the cruelest cultures we know of in history. There are only hints in this novel of the pederasty that was taken for granted in their military training of boys, and the actual condition of the slaves is softened here – among other cruelties, the Spartan ritual of manhood involved hunting down and murdering a slave.

For all that, Gates of Fire is without question a monument of historical fiction. Author Pressfield dares to stare far more directly into the face of battle that I ever have in my own writing.

Highly recommended, for the strong-minded reader.

‘The War of Art,’ by Steven Pressfield

The War of Art

Because when we sit down day after day and keep grinding, something mysterious starts to happen. A process is set into motion by which, inevitably and infallibly, heaven comes to our aid. Unseen forces enlist in our cause; serendipity reinforces our purpose.

Someone suggested to me that I might enjoy Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art (and yes, I caught the reversal on Sun Tsu’s The Art of War… eventually). I’ve been struggling with my work in progress (it’s coming, but I’m fighting for every inch of ground), and I thought, what could it hurt?

It’s a remarkable book. I’m still not entirely sure what to think about it, though.

It might save you the cost of purchase if I give you the basic message right here – the only way to succeed as a writer is to become a professional. Sit yourself down at your desk at the same time every day, and work at your craft. Don’t listen to the negative voices in your head. Especially don’t listen to the ones that say, “I’ll just skip it today.”

But the value of the book is (of course) in the reader’s journey. In polished, powerful prose Pressfield (author of The Legend of Bagger Vance, Gates of Fire, and other bestselling books) analyses the writer’s problem (we have an enemy, which he calls “Resistance,” and we must learn to tread it under our feet). And he tells the story of his own evolution from a blocked, self-pitying wannabee to a fulfilled professional (anyone can do it, he says, which I think is an exaggeration. Not for me, of course, but for you other folks).

What troubles me about the book is its religious nature. When Pressfield talks about his Muse, he’s not being metaphorical. He lays out a whole theory of reality and consciousness (based on Jung), and says he believes that his muse actually exists. He prays to her each time he sits down to write.

On the negative side, he condemns all forms of Fundamentalism. “Fundamentalism and art,” he says, “are mutually exclusive.”

I take that kind of personally. I think you could call the medieval Roman Catholic Church fundamentalist, by his definition, and they did pretty well on the art front. The Puritans themselves gave us Milton and Bunyan.

So I’m uncomfortable with Pressfield’s religious statements. Speaking as a fundamentalist, I worry that he may have sold his soul to a devil, or be possessed in some way.

So I can’t wholeheartedly recommend The War of Art. As a motivational book, it’s excellent (I had a pretty good writing day the day I finished reading it). But spiritually I found it hazardous.

Also, cautions for language.