Lowenthal launches an in-depth investigation into our relation to the past in this book. He discusses many angles and methods of perceiving, characterizing, and experiencing our past. He compares memory-past versus ancestral oral history versus formal documented past versus imagined past. Lowenthal highlights the many ways that we shape the past to fit our present—intentionally, subconsciously, and unintentionally, including when we are convinced we are being purely objective and truthful. Indeed, those who are the most convinced of their objectivity, are the ones with the most bias.

We alter the past every time we think about it. Our world view and our values significantly color how we see the past, the past of other cultures as well as our own, from ten years ago to 10,000 years ago. Conversely, the manifold influences from the multi-form past continuously transmogrify our present. We better understand our relationship with history as we understand this endlessly evolving lifecycle of past-colors-present-colors-past-colors-present-colors-past.

That we “see the past through our present-day lens” is a cliché, but also a fact. In this book Lowenthal shows us what that really means and how it works, with myriad examples.

The book shows us how we reject the past, shun obsolescent influences we deem out of touch, condemn world views that differ from today’s. We reject outmoded value systems, social systems, former popular attitudes with which we no longer identify. The book also shows us how we embrace the past, preserve old architecture, cherish old books and their old ideas, admire things “old-school,” view the past as full of wisdom, mix the bad in with the good into a romanticized nostalgia, fund historical preservation of all kinds, save old art from disintegration because losing them would be a horrific injury to culture. We go through each day shunning and embracing ideas and actions dating from ancient history through yesterday.

What we shun and what we embrace shapes part of who we are. Who we are, in turn, shapes our version of the “reality” we call “history,” or “our past,” or “the good old days,” or “those stodgy old days,” and a plethora of other judgment-laden labels. We create the past in our image, so that the aspects of it that align with our world view are elevated, and the aspects that do not align with our world view are deprecated. Through all this, we very often believe we can see the past as it really was.

Lowenthal makes the interesting point that the more radical the rejection of the past, the greater the dependence on the past. In that instance, the past serves as a counter example against which we hold ourselves in shining relief, as superior to the dusky has-been times. Conversely, it is often those who embrace the past the most who thoroughly wreck it. One example is in the restoration of buildings so that they seem hoary and stalwart, but in fact bear no resemblance to what the building once was. We often change old things to be “better-old-looking” based on our present day aesthetic preferences for what is aged. We do something similar in our Creative Anachronism events such as Renaissance Fairs where we make the old days all jolly and festive, or in our authentic historic villages such as Williamsburg, Virginia. Lowenthal does not pass judgment though, in fact, quite the opposite. He embraces any and all ways of “remembering” or valuing the past. Keeping it alive in some aspect is better than forgetting. It also seems to be a healthy practice for everyone involved. Imitation is the greatest flattery, and often the imitation is much nicer than the original.

One example Lowenthal mentions is that the changes to the Bloomsbury district of London were so comprehensive, that it bore no resemblance to the old neighborhood. But soon, no one remembered the old look. After a few years, tourists flocked to the district and experienced awe at the quaint charm of the authentic historic quarter. Is this a problem? Lowenthal cites many historians, architects, and others, on both sides. Some think it is a horrible outcome. Others think it’s the best possible outcome. Lowenthal, ever the voice of reason, asks Why judge? Everyone experiences the past in their own way. Everyone molds the past to fit their own way. Everyone values something different about history and memory and the æsthetics of antiquity.

Copyists paint copies of famous old paintings. In some cases, the 1800s copy of a 1600s painting is as valuable as the 1600s original. Some imitation Tudor homes are far more authentic in appearance than actual old Tudor homes still standing. The original Tudor buildings are in such a ruin that the original inhabitants would not recognize it—but they would recognize, and prefer, the new “imitation.”

Some argue there is an attrition of meaning, as we favor imitations, reenactments, anachronisms, copies. Some also fault museums. Taking precious old objects out of their original setting, putting them into a sterile new building, wipes away any vestige of authenticity of context or meaning. They argue that painstaking care should be applied to keep old things in their original state. Any exploration of the past should aim towards maximum verisimilitude in every way. But all these competing approaches to experiencing the past need not be mutually exclusive. One can appreciate in multiple ways. And in fact, most people do just that. They appreciate museums, old original settings still in situ and intact, original art, copies of art, ruins, restorations, imitations, unchanged remote villages, and Ye Olde Festivals.

Most everyone likes the past in some way or another. This is evident in how most everyone cringes at dystopian nightmares where the past is destroyed, or totally falsified, such as in Orwell’s Ministry of Truth. We want to know that the past is there, that it is at least partially within reach, and that someone is keeping records.

As we grow older, much of our “memory-past” also becomes “history-past.” Now the senses—smells, sounds, sights—bring a flood of memories. Now the history-past becomes highly subjective as it mingles with our memory-past’s inner life and nostalgia. Then we ourselves become a piece of the past. When younger people see older people, they often merge older people in with older homes, older cars, long-past wars, out-of-touch ideas, forgotten presidents, and outdated fashions—or conversely—with wise old owls, tough old birds, rough old school characters, windows into ancient lore. We “people the past” with our older people. Here again, we remold the past to fit our fancy.

One troubling trend that Lowenthal points out: While there is huge increase in anachronistic festivals, reenactments, creation and traffic in museums, historical novels and movies—there is also a deep decline in history majors in college. People increasingly want to have fun with the past, but decreasingly want to put in the effort to really understand it. Fortunately, we have Lowenthal and the like, giving us a deep dive into the very concept of history and a very rewarding 400+ pages of historical insights.

Conclusion
Given that, theoretically, there must be a perfectly true and accurate past that exists back there in time—it is most certainly the most remote, obscure, unintelligible, irrecoverable, foreign-est of all foreign countries imaginable. We can pretend, but we cannot and will never speak its language, feel its feelings, think its thoughts. At the same time, we are inextricably integrated into the past. Our every word, every feeling, and every thought emanates from the past. Yet, we cannot know it.

If this sounds like a sad ending, that’s my fault. The book is very uplifting and the multi-form ways of learning, experiencing, and appreciating the past are fully fleshed out in Lowenthal’s analysis. Anyone with the faintest feeling for our shared timeline will love this book. It was a very rewarding experience. ( )