From the Publisher
From the N.Y. Times Book Review: a front cover welcome for Richard Ellis'
"Entertaining, thorough account"
of the lost island of Atlantis, the legend of whose downfall was created by Plato and has for two and a half millennia fascinated everyone from Francis Bacon to Jules Verne to Jacques Cousteau and the mythmakers of many cultures.
Quite simply the best book on Atlantis ever written...Anyone interested in lost civilizations should look no further.Brian Fagan, Los Angeles Times
Ellis takes us on a magnificent journey that leads us to a better understanding of earthquakes, tsunamis, flood myths, volcanology, architecture, archaelogy, the works of Jules Verne and Arthur Conan Doyle...A real treatDaniel McMahon, Washington Post
Engaging, lucid, and full of loreThe New Yorker
Quite simply the best book on Atlantis ever written. . .Anyone interested in lost civilizations should look no further.
Los Angeles Times
Ellis takes us on a magnificent journey that leads us to a better understanding of earthquakes, tsunamis, flood myths, volcanology, architecture, archaeology, the works of Jules Verne and Arthur Conan Doyle. . .A real treat.
New York Times Book Review
Entertaining, thorough account . . .
Phyllis Young Forsyth
Imagining Atlantis offers nothing new. Indeed, its heavy reliance on lengthy quotations from other Atlantologists would merit the subtitle 'A Compendium of What Others Think.' It is also so full of historical errors and internal inconsistencies that one must question the author's grasp of the basic data....In sum, despite the author's refreshingly skeptical approach, his inept handling of basic data relegates this book to the fringes of Atlantology. -- Globe and Mail
Engaging, lucid, and full of lore.
This is a skeet shoot of a book. For if you target the subject of Atlantis -- there are some 2,000 to 10,000 Atlantean works out there -- you must explode endless philosophical clay pigeons. There are an infinite number of crackpot explanations regarding the lost city's location and demise, as marine expert Richard Ellis admits. God love him, he's game to compass all he can. But the task is just too Sisyphean; Imagining Atlantis reads like a long, heavy sigh. Then again, if you're a buff, it's downright handy. Ellis begins by walking us through Plato, who first mentioned "an island opposite ... the Pillars of Hercules, an island larger than Libya and Asia combined." Plato's Atlantis supposedly existed 9,000 years before he wrote that (though many "scholars" think he meant 900 years, which places Atlantis in the biblical era). It boasted great soil, fine crops and the wisest of citizens, who had covered its brilliant walls "with a veneer of bronze [and] fused tin."
Then an earthquake/flood, apparently, sunk it all into the sea. Was Plato talking about a real place or was he spinning a "noble lie" parable? Ellis himself believes Plato made the whole thing up, using Atlantis (whose aggression would bring a comeuppance) as an example of what could happen to his own hubristic Athens. The bulk of Imagining Atlantis, however, chronicles the theories of literalists. Most take the "Pillars of Hercules" to mean Gibraltar. Some believe Atlantis was the Garden of Eden and that the few who escaped its ruination lived to create the Deluge and Flood legends; the most famous proponent of this hypothesis was Ignatius Donnelly, an eccentric Minnesota congressman whose 1882 tome, Atlantis: The Antediluvian World, is still in print.
After Donnelly, Ellis tosses in everyone from Madame Blavatsky, the famous psychic -- she thought Atlantis was populated by a hermaphroditic race whose downfall came from the discovery of sex -- to archeologist Angelos Galanopolous, whose 1969 book posits, among other things, that eels offer a clue to Atlantis. Eels? The Sargasso Sea, where they are genetically programmed to breed, merely covers the freshwater rivers of Atlantis, where they originally spawned.
It gets weirder than eels, believe me. There's a hypothesis that pivots on bananas, another on Mayan deities, another on Antarctica. Einstein gets in on the act, plus Rachel Carson, Jacques Cousteau, Arthur C. Clarke, even Cokie Roberts (she and husband Steven V. Roberts wrote a 1976 New York Times piece about Atlantean research on the island of Thera, near Crete). Many Atlanticists now believe Plato meant the Aegean, not the Atlantic, and that the fabled lost civilization is on or near Crete; it was destroyed by a volcanic eruption on Santorini.
"Does it matter?" our dog-tired writer asks at the end. God knows, Atlantis is a hoary topic, yet as Ellis says, "It means so much to so many." Whence this noble effort. -- Salon
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Marine painter and explorer Ellis (Deep Atlantic) has produced a gracefully written, authoritative debunking of the myth of a "lost continent" of Atlantis. He regards Plato's tale of the flood-related destruction of a wondrous city as a parable on the demise of Periclean Athens, perhaps also as Plato's commentary on the plague that killed one of every four Athenians between 430 and 425 B.C. Tracing the snowballing of this legend in the writings of Sir Francis Bacon, Edward Cayce, Charles Berlitz and others, Ellis dismantles the Atlantean scenarios of occultists and New Agers, as well as the dubious claims of oceanographers, geologists, archeologists and historians who, on the slenderest evidence, have attempted to link Plato's fabled Atlantis with the destruction of Minoan Crete, the volcanic explosion of the island of Thera around 1450 B.C. or other putative sites of lost civilizations. He also examines Atlantis lore in movies, television, science fiction and tourism.
Ellis' plausible interpretation of Atlantis as a myth of greed and retribution, a utopian fable adapted by successive cultures to suit their needs, makes his odyssey through the muddy shoals of Atlantean scholarship worthwhile.
Castleden, who has written ten other books on historical topics (Minoans: Life in Bronze Age Crete), examines various events in ancient history and then attempts to prove that Plato used them to form the Atlantis tale for the purpose of creating a model world that Athenians could contemplate and learn from. He argues persuasively, offering much evidence, for instance, of similarities between Minoan civilization and the Atlantis legend. Ellis (Deep Atlantic) also reviews sources from Plato to the present that have contributed to the story of Atlantis, revealing what mystics, scientists, film writers, and others have added to the legend. His most interesting revelation is that Arthur Conan Doyle wrote a novel featuring an underwater Atlantis. Ellis also discusses archaeological evidence that some have used to "prove" that Atlantis existed. -- Norman Malwitz, Queens Borough Public Library, Jamaica, NY
The New Yorker
Engaging, lucid, and full of lore.
In this survey of Atlantis theories, Ellis (Monsters of the Sea) explains and then pokes holes in previous conjectures, from the scientifically grounded to the plain crazy. before tendering a few of his own. It is all Plato's fault, suggests Ellis, the nest of literature, philosophy, geology, archaeology, oceanography, ancient history, mythology, art history, mysticism, cryptology, and fantasy that can be summed up in the word "Atlantology." A few mentions of that fabulous island in his Critias and Timaeus, and 2,500 years later we still haven't heard the end of it. Ellis covers here the whole gamut of Atlantis explanations, compares them to a strict reading of Plato's story, and proceeds to dismember them all. The more outlandish, like paranormal Edgar Cayce and occultist Madame Blavatsky, are easy to dismiss as they have no truck with Plato (not to mention their general lunacy); same goes for notions locating Atlantis in the Crimea, the Sahara, and central France. Jules Verne and Arthur Conan Doyle were in it for the entertainment value; even reputable (or not so reputable) investigators and cognoscenti like Francis Bacon, Ignatius Donnelly, Charles Pellegrino, Spyridon Marinatos, and Angelos Galanopoulos display instances of "rash assumption, hasty conclusions, circular reasoning, and argument based purely on rhetoric." And his points are all well taken: Hold true to Plato's tale, no fiddling around with the numbers, no monkeying with the geography and all their speculations smell like three-day-old fish. As for Ellis's thoughts on Atlantis: "I think it was entirely Plato's creation," that the story is likely a parable for the demise of Periclean Athens, itsmagical detailing plucked from contemporaneous regional sources: the architecture perhaps from the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the geologic catastrophe from the Helice earthquake of 373 B.C. Just so: another corrupt civilization flooded into oblivion, a story as old as time.
Of course, Atlantis is still lost, Ellis wags his head, perhaps a tad smugly. And it always will be. So stop looking, except in your imagination.
Read an Excerpt
WHAT PLATO SAID
Our records tell how your city checked a great power which arrogantly advanced from its base in the Atlantic Ocean to attack the cities of Europe and Asia. For in those days the Atlantic was navigable. There was an island opposite the strait which you call . . . the Pillars of Heracles, an island larger than Libya and Asia combined; from it travelers could in those days reach the other islands, and from them the whole opposite continent which surrounds what can truly be called the ocean. For the sea within the strait we are talking about is like a lake with a narrow entrance; the outer ocean is the real ocean and the land which entirely surrounds it is properly termed continent. On this island of Atlantis had arisen a powerful and remarkable dynasty of kings. . . .
It is of course impossible to know, or even guess, when men first looked out over the gray Atlantic and thought about crossing it. For eons, men had no idea what lay on the other side, or if indeed there was another side. In The Edges of the Earth in Ancient Thought, James Romm wrote that "early writers seemed to have assumed, for lack of evidence to the contrary, that Ocean's waters stretched unbounded toward a distant horizon." The prospect of sailing out of sight of the comforting and familiar terra firma must have terrified the earliest sailors, and great credit must be assigned to the first of those brave navigators who ventured toward what must have seemed literally the end of the world. (While the story of Christopher Columbus's men fearing that they were going to sail off the end of the world if they kept going is certainly apocryphalmen have known the earth was round since Ptolemy's second-century calculationsthey were unquestionably apprehensive as they sailed steadily toward the setting sun and the unknown.)
To the Greeks, the Pillars of Herculesthe name given to the twin rocks that define the passage we know as the Straits of Gibraltarrepresented the gateway from the known Mediterranean to the unknown mysteries beyond. The poet Pindar wrote that the Pillars of Hercules were, almost literally, the end of the world: "Now Theron, approaching the outer limit of his feats of strength, touches the Pillars of Hercules. What lies beyond cannot be approached by wise men or unwise. I shall not try, or I would be a fool."
Before the year 1100 b.c., the Phoenicians, from their outpost at Carthage on the North African coast, had in all probability explored the shores of the Atlantic outside the protection of the Pillars of Hercules, that is, the Straits of Gibraltar. From archaeological evidence, it has been ascertained that the Carthaginians had established a trading post at Essaouira (modern Mogador), about six hundred miles south of Gibraltar on the Atlantic coast of Morocco, some twenty-five hundred years ago.
The first chronicler of an Atlantic voyage was Herodotus, the fifth-century b.c. Greek historian, who also mentions the first known map of the world, a bronze tablet "showing all the seas and rivers" compiled by his predecessor the historian Hecataeus. Also according to Herodotus, Pharaoh Necho II sent a Phoenician expedition to find a route around Africa. It will probably never be known if they completed the circumnavigation, but Herodotus's account (written some one hundred fifty years after the event) suggests that they may have done so:
Accordingly these Phoenicians set out and from the Red Sea sailed into the southern ocean. Whenever autumn came, they went ashore wherever in Africa they chanced to be on their voyage to sow grain in the earth and await the harvest. On reaping the new grain they put again to sea. In this wise, after two years had elapsed, they rounded the Pillars of Heracles and in the third year reached Egypt. Now they told a tale that I personally do not believe (though others may, if they choose), how they had the sun on their right hand as they sailed along the African coast.
Although some analysts of Herodotus have been inclined to question this account, the statement "they had the sun on their right hand," which would refer to the sun's midday position only if the Phoenicians were sailing west while south of the equator, actually supports the claim for authenticity. Naval historian Samuel Eliot Morison believes they succeeded, and called their circumnavigation of Africa from east to west "one of the most remarkable voyages of history." In Beyond the Pillars of Heracles, which contains a meticulous analysis of Herodotus's account, the historian Rhys Carpenter wrote, "The curious detail that Herodotus refused to believe this becomes our surest warrant for believing the Phoenician claim that they circumnavigated Africa."
A century or so later, Hanno, the magistrate of Carthage, set out from the Mediterranean and sailed south with "sixty ships of fifty oars each and a body of men and women to the number of thirty thousand," which works out to approximately five hundred persons per ship, an obvious exaggeration. This story can be found in the Periplous of Hanno, a Greek translation of an inscribed tablet that has never been found. The narrative tells of the establishment of several colonies along the Atlantic coast of Africa, to safeguard the Carthaginian access to the Canaries and Madeira, the sources of the Murex snails that provided the royal purple dye. Hanno passed the Saharan coast, and easily made Cape Bojador, which was to prove such a formidable psychological and physical obstacle to the first Portuguese explorers. The success of this pioneer voyage can be found in Hanno's own narrative, where he describes a tribe that he calls "Ethiopians," various active volcanoes, and also such exotic animals as elephants, hippopotamuses, and "gorillas" (probably chimpanzeesthe expedition killed three females and brought the hairy pelts back to Carthage). This coast of Africa would not be seen again by European eyes for another thousand years, when sailors from Portugal would cautiously navigate south around the bulge of Africa, culminating in Bartholomeu Dias's doubling of the Cape of Good Hope in 1488.
In the Timaeus, Plato tells us that Solon (630-560 b.c.) reported that the Egyptian priests of Saïs told him the story of a great island that lay in the Atlantic Ocean, just off the Pillars of Hercules. Its generals mounted an invasion of Greece: "Our records tell [Plato wrote] how your city checked a great power which arrogantly advanced from its base in the Atlantic ocean to attack the cities of Europe and Asia."
The invasion ended not in a military victory for either side but in a double defeat, where the only winner was the force of nature: "But afterward there occurred violent earthquakes and floods, and in a single day and night of misfortune all your warlike men in a body sank into the earth, and the island of Atlantis in like manner disappeared in the depths of the sea" (my emphasis). This is the full extent of the original story of the destruction of Atlantis.
With Socrates and Aristotle, Plato is considered one of the authors of the philosophical foundations of Western culture. He was born in 428 b.c., either in Athens or in Aegina, to Ariston and Perictione. We know few details of his life, but after the suicide of his mentor Socrates in 399 b.c., he became disillusioned with Athens and traveled in Greece, Italy, Egypt, and Sicily, and when he returned to Athens, he founded an academy dedicated to the systematic pursuit of philosophical and scientific research. Around 368, when he was forty, Plato was invited to Sicily to educate Dionysius II, but the experiment was a failure and Plato returned to Athens. Rather than adopting the role of "philosopher-king" that Plato had recommended in The Republic, Dionysius II became a reckless tyrant. In addition to The Republic, the best-known and most influential of the dialogues, Plato wrote the Timaeus and the Critias, in which the story of Atlantis is first told. Although not dated, the Timaeus has long been regarded as one of his last works. In The Laws, left unfinished at his death in 347 b.c., he apparently had not completely abandoned the idea of an ideal government, for he recommended the association of a young and high-spirited prince with a wise lawgiver.
"The works of Plato," wrote A. E. Taylor in his seminal study of the philosopher's life and thought, "have come down to us absolutely entire and complete." The manuscripts were preserved at the Platonic Academy, and thence in the great library at Alexandria. Copies of the manuscripts were carefully made from the Middle Ages to the present day, so there is no reason to doubt Plato's authorship.
Plato's dialogues contain the only reference in the whole of ancient literature to the disappearing island of Atlantis, and no further mention is made of this story until other people begin quoting Plato. (Not even Herodotus mentions the story, and he is said to have spoken directly with the priests at Saïs, the very priests who passed the story to Solon.) There are people who take everything he said literally (even though they are unable to locate the missing island), and others who dismiss the whole story as "science fiction." Others categorize it as a fictional account that Plato introduced to demonstrate what an ideal society might be like.
But did Plato make up everything about Atlantis? Perhaps not. As with all writers of fiction, he was probably influenced by people and events that he knew, even though he may have modified them beyond recognition. Romm suggests that there was a text circulating in Plato's time that was called On Marvelous Things Heard, which contained elements that Plato might have incorporated:
They say in the sea outside the Pillars of Hercules an unidentified island was discovered by the Carthaginians, many days' sail from shore, which has all kinds of trees, and navigable rivers, and a marvelous variety of other resources. When the Carthaginians began going there often on account of its fruitfulness, and some even emigrated there, the Carthaginian leaders decreed that they would put to death anyone who planned to sail there, and got rid of all those who were living there, lest they spread the word and a crowd gather around them on the island which might gain power and take away the prosperity of the Carthaginians.
Did the Carthaginians actually know of such an island? Probably not, any more than Plato did. Romm quotes Diodorus as suggesting that the Carthaginians wanted to keep the island a secret so they could escape to it if necessary. Furthermore, Diodorus believed that the Pillars of Hercules had been closed in ancient times to prevent "sea monsters" from entering the Mediterranean, and that therefore nobody could get out, Atlantis or not.
Another aspect of Plato's discussion of Atlantis is found in the Critias, where he describes the nature of the island's civilization before its destruction. Here we might find some indication of what Plato actually had in mind, for he describes a fanciful civilization, replete with boundless natural riches, "which then lay open to the sun, in marvelous beauty and inexhaustible profusion." The royalty of Atlantis were enormously wealthy ("they possessed wealth such as had never been amassed by any royal line before them"), perhaps because they were able to mine the mineral orichalch, which had a higher value than any other substance except gold. The forests and pastures were exceptionally bountiful, and "the earth bore freely all the aromatic substances it bears today, roots, herbs, bushes and gums exuded by flowers or fruit," and there were two springs, a cold and a warm, and "the supply from both was copious and the natural flavor of their waters remarkable." Man-made structures included temples, gymnasiums, and dockyards, all in excellent order. Since this description fits no known land, and since the plains, the forests, the waters, and the city are so sumptuous, it seems not unreasonable to conclude that Plato was describing a mythical utopia, and that to explain its disappearance, he invented a great natural catastrophe. The area of the Mediterranean in which Plato lived is occasionally subjected to geological misadventuressometimes on a colossal scaleso it is not surprising that he would have employed such a device. Future Atlantologists would attempt to fit Plato's description into almost every political and geological system known, with varying degrees of success.
Later students of the Atlantis story have pointed out that it is curious that no other ancient historians made reference to Atlantis, except, of course, to quote Plato. In his 1978 essay on the historical perspective regarding Atlantis, J. Rufus Fears wrote, "In the absence of any evidence from the Egyptian sources, the silence of Thucydides, Herodotus, Isocrates, and Aelius Aristedes seems conclusive. Plato's story does not reflect a historical tradition derived from Egypt or Solon or from anywhere or anyone else. It is a poetic invention of Plato." Moreover, its hypothetical location has not always remained just outside the Straits of Gibraltar, but has wandered from the Canary Islands to the Sahara Desert, Scandinavia, and Palestine, most recently coming to rest on various Aegean islands, especially Santorini and Crete.