A Glimpse Into the Realities of a Childhood Dream - A Review of Lives in Ruins

Lives in Ruins: Archeologists and the Seductive Lure of Human Rubble by Marilyn Johnson

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Like many people out there, I once dreamed of becoming an archaeologist. I’m not sure what led to that wish, but I have a feeling it coalesced out of all the history and mythology books my mother was buying for me during my elementary school years. They were often lavishly illustrated affairs, featuring exquisite photographs of artefacts and the places the artefacts were found; as a child with a very active imagination, it wasn’t difficult to imagine what it would be like if I could actually hold the artefacts depicted. From there, it wasn’t a very long leap to wanting to travel around the world digging into tombs for gold and potsherds—or at least staying here in the Philippines, spelunking into ancient caves to recover mummies hundreds of years old.

But as with many childhood dreams, this particular one died once I was old enough to realise a few important things. First, archaeology is difficult to do in the Philippines. My ancestors didn’t build in durable materials like stone or clay; they built mostly in wood, which means that the odds of finding ancient stone structures like Angkor Wat or Borobodur are practically impossible. Second, if I wanted to do archaeology at more exotic locations—like, say, Greece or Egypt—I’d have to travel abroad to study in universities that actually taught the relevant courses. Third, even if I did go abroad and study the relevant courses, the odds of me being able to join an expedition were slim to none; the odds of starting my own were practically nil. Fourth, even if I did manage to join an expedition, I’d simply be putting myself in harm’s way: disease and injury were just the beginning of a whole host of dangers that awaited an archaeologist, and after two bouts of dengue and one bout of typhoid I was tired of hospitals.

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