In the sixteenth century, one of the world's most precious commodities was cochineal, a legendary red dye treasured

by the ancient Mexicans and sold in the great Aztec marketplaces, where it attracted the attention of the Spanish conquistadors. Shipped to Europe, the dye created a sensation, producing the brightest, strongest red the world had ever seen. Soon Spain's cochineal monopoly was worth a fortune. As the English, French, Dutch, and other Europeans joined the chase for cochineal - a chase that lasted for more than three centuries -- a tale of pirates, explorers, alchemists, scientists, and spies unfolds. "A Perfect Red" evokes with style and verve this history of a grand obsession, of intrigue, empire, and adventure in pursuit of the most desirable color on earth. In the context of contemporary society, it may not be possible to say that the value of color is overlooked, but it is undoubtedly true that we suffer a bit from the old saw that "familiarity breeds contempt." A brief walk through any department store or the local discount store will reveal untold variations on the colorful costumes offered for consumer consumption. Even Wal-Mart, with its always low prices and emphasis on inexpensive clothing items features a wide array of colors, be it bright pink or dark blue or purple or a deep, burgundy red. The casualness with which we now select and discard colors stands in stark contrast to much of recorded history, and it is the juxtaposition of the past and the present which makes Amy Butler Greenfield's A Perfect Red so compelling. As is often the case in life, Greenfield's book was the result of a serendipitous accident: while in Seville conducting research on another topic, she was perusing the cargo manifests of 16th and 17th century Spanish ships when she noticed how frequently they mentioned "cochineal." Her interest piqued by the frequency of the shipments and the apparent value of the product, she decided to explore the history surrounding cochineal - a product that was, for many decades, as mysterious as it was prized for its ability to produce a vibrant red dye. As Greenfield writes, "Elusive, expensive, and invested with powerful symbolism, red cloth became the prized possession of the wealthy and well-born." That hunger for color is lavishly documented in Greenfield's book, which charts the history of the product which produced the "brightest, strongest red the Old World had ever seen." Greenfield explores the medieval fascination with red and how in many places red was expressly reserved for the upper classes (if not the nobility). The social and economic importance of red, along with other dyes, and the social stratification represented by the color (not to mention the cut) of one's clothes is quite a shock to modern sensibilities. In the days before synthetic dyes, the fascination with red was satisfied by plant sources such as henna or madder and insects such as Laccifer lacca. But by and large, these dyes were only moderately satisfactory, and dyers of the era longed for a way to uncover a "true red," one which could be easily absorbed by fabric and which resisted fading away. The Spanish unexpectedly answered Europe's craving for such a red when Corts invaded Mexico. The Aztecs, it seemed, had learned how to produce a brilliant red dye. And much like Europeans, in Aztec society the color was prized: Montezuma, for example, claimed the sole right to wear the most brilliant shades of the color, and there was a special tax upon the citizens of his empire which had to

be paid in cochineal, the source of the dye (much like the Aztecs used coca beans as another form of money). After the conquistadors toppled the Aztec empire, it took a bit of time for them to recognize the value of cochineal. But when they did, however, the Spanish government moved quickly to ensure Spain's monopoly over the supply. Greenfield explores both the production of cochineal, which is actually produced from an insect that lives on a host plant, the nopal. There are two versions of the insect - the so-called "wild" variety, and a cultivated version which produces far more dye. The production of cochineal was very laborintensive and required certain growing conditions. Spain managed to maintain its grip on cochineal for decades, while the rest of Europe was actually left to wonder what the dye actually was - was it a grain, for example, or an insect? The debate raged even while some intrepid adventures sought to engage in a bit of international espionage to find out. Pirates raided Spanish ships not only for gold and silver but for cochineal; English privateers during the reign of Queen Elizabeth seemed to regard it as a point of national pride whenever they managed to return home with a hefty haul of the glorious red stuff. Emerging scientific techniques ultimately put to rest the debate over cochineal's origins (since the Spanish weren't talking, it took the development of the microscope). Other nations repeatedly attempted to break Spain's stranglehold on the dye's production by establishing their own locations. Greenfield recounts the amazing lengths many of these countries went to in order to break the competitive balance of power. And then she wraps up the story with cochineal's ultimate fall from grace in the face of synthetic dyes (and its subsequent rebirth as a niche product market in the 20th century). Greenfield's book is impeccably researched, wonderfully balanced, and filled with nuance and detail that make it a worthy read. About the only quibble I had was that the exploration of cochineal's decline seemed a bit lengthy (inevitable though it was). But that's a minor thing to be certain, especially in the face of her excellent cultural analysis of how perceptions of color shifted based on a variety of factors (it was not until the 19th century, for example, that attitudes toward red as an "indecent" color really started hardening; in large part, this was associated with a Victorian distaste for strong or bright colors of any sort). All in all, Greenfield's book is an excellent thumbnail sketch of the search for red, and from its place as the color of kings to its representation of defiance (in the form of prisoners about to be executed who would remove their black robes and reveal their scarlet undergarments) and its subsequent characterization as the shade of scarlet women (the devils in their red dresses). The rise and fall of the fortunes of cochineal, and the brilliant color it produced, makes for fascinating historical reading.

I was really excited to find this book in my library, since Ive written quite a bit about cochineal and its modern use as a food coloring. The insect itself has a fascinating and complex history, and thats exactly what this book covers. (A brief review: cochineal is a red dye produced from an insect about the size of a lentil (Dactylopius coccus), that spends her life sucking the juice of prickly pear. When squished, a bright intense red results.)

In addition to Elizabethan cloak and dagger intrigue, we also get empire, genocide, and alchemy in the search for riches in the New World. This is a book for artists, history buffs, and bug lovers alike. Red dye was very difficult to come by in Europe before the 1500s. Red dyes were made from Madder (a plant root), which wasnt really very red, or from Oak-Kermes scale insects. Kermes scales did make a nice rich red, but were a pain to harvest, as was St. Johns Blood, another scale insect. This made red dyes rare, expensive, and a sign of royalty and wealth. When Spain invaded what is now Mexico and other areas of South America in the 1500s, they were dazzled by the local fiery red fabrics. It was the little cochineal insect, that had been carefully bred for centuries by indigenous people of Central and South America, that was responsible. Unfortunately, Spaniards killed and looted first, and asked questions laterso for some time the mystery of cochineal production was almost lost. Eventually they sorted it out, and created a craze in Europe with the rich intense red dyes. Spain guarded the secret of the dye very jealouslyand all sorts of trans-global espionage resulted with the Dutch, French, and English trying to figure out first just what the heck cochineal was (animal? vegetable? mineral?), and how to produce it. One of the details I loved about this book is finding out so many things that I recognize are indirectly tied in some way to cochineal and its European invasion. I love random factoids.

Cochineal is mentioned by Voltaires Dr. Pangloss. Its why some famous paintings are so intensely red. Joseph Banks, the man that imported prickly pear to Australia in a scheme to get rich off of cochineal, also sent Bligh and the Bounty on its voyage. Our modern food dyes are made from coal tarand this is indirectly related to cochineal. In 1856 WH Perkins discovered a way to create synthetic dyes (as an accident; he was trying to make a malarial cure). This led to the rise of a huge chemical dye industry (which eventually began making pesticides, too). I could go on listing cool little tidbits, but I dont want to make this too long. Its a long, complex, and fascinating story, and my only quibble is that it left me wanting to know more. Thats probably a good thing. I really wish the author would return to this subject and pick the story up at the end, where the cheap availability of red dyed clothing led to the decline of red as a preferred color. Once everyone could afford bright colors, of course it became vulgar. The discussion in the

last chapter of red as the color of othernon-white, or a class symbolwas really fascinating, and I think theres a whole other book there.
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