Reviews and Comments

In many ways Mark Twain was ahead of his time. If he had lived a little later, I think it's possible his autobiographical dictations would have been produced in cinematic form, one last speaking tour canned and sealed for viewers a hundred years in the future. Many of his dictations read this way, or like an interview with no interviewer. The effect is often very intimate, like the reader is somehow in the man's presence, waving away cigar smoke while listening enraptured to the day's stories and musings, and occasionally groaning as one does when an elder insists on returning to some subject that's not necessarily a favorite of yours.

Twain adheres to his rules of sticking with a subject only as long as it's interesting and not preempted by something more interesting, and the result is a mostly delightful tour of all things he finds interesting or important to him, from copyright law to current events, his old mining days, traveling the world, what makes good literature, his friendship with US Grant, investing woes, hustling pool, palm reading, fond memories with his daughters, and lots more that I'll think of later. All through his keen wit shines through, and often it's truly funny. But he doesn't consider himself a humorist.

The stipulation that this work remain suppressed one hundred years after his death allows him to speak freely, and Twain takes advantage of this more in this volume the first. He shares his views on religion, and in particular Christianity, that while not unknown, are expressed in supremely frank and honest terms, pulling no punches whatsoever. In this way Twain may be ahead of our time.

Like the first volume, this one comes with copious notes, occasionally providing interesting insight, other times getting in the way of Twain’s storytelling.

This astounding book retells the Apollo saga from a fresh perspective: that of young software engineer and “long-haired freak” Don Eyles, who was responsible for developing a significant portion of the Lunar Module code. Moon landing aficionados may think they know all about various close shaves involving the cutting edge technology, such as Apollo 11’s program alarms and Apollo 12’s SCE to AUX. Eyles’s intimate expertise with the ship’s computer sheds new light, for me at least, on exactly what caused those problems, what alternative hypotheses were being considered at the time, and how the eventual workarounds worked to solve the problem until it could be fixed in a future “rope”. The design of the Apollo Guidance Computer and the PGNCS operating system is at once fascinating and familiar. In it one can see the germs of modern computers and their operating systems, distilled to an essence limited by nascent technology and required by the laser focus of the mission.

This would be enough, but Eyles takes us to apogee by weaving in his experiences with 60s counterculture: music, drugs, protests, and free love. And beyond that, the sort of idealism that in part propelled the space program: that together, putting aside our differences, forsaking domination over others, we can achieve truly monumental things.

The writing is superb, and Eyles includes ample useful diagrams and illustrations that help with understanding the technical details.

Five hundred or so pages in, I realized that Barack Obama's memoir had only just reached the midterm elections of 2010. Granted, he had a lot of ground to cover, from his childhood through his early efforts at community organizing, explosive ascendency to the national stage, to making history in the presidential election in 2008 and the frenetic pace of his first two years. But also, far from being a slog, the book is persistently interesting, a page-turning review of recent events from a perspective about as singular as it gets, and with lots of detail. As he admits early on, his narrative resists a strict chronology, as events connect with others in various ways. My only complaint is that he's a little too cool, only really letting us in on the depth of his frustration in a couple places. One memorable passage relates his frustration in the aftermath of the Deepwater Horizon accident, when the long-undermined role of the federal government was most clearly needed. Still, balanced by describing the sincere emotions he felt while doing his job, fondly recalling special moments he had with his family in the White House or around the world, and retelling stories of camaraderie with his staff, the fact-laden narrative doesn't come off as too serious or formal. I understand this part one of two. Can we read more? Yes we can.

In this outstanding work, Doris Kearns Goodwin wields a staggering volume of scholarship in a cohesive, compelling narrative that both humanizes and lionizes a true giant of American history, whose story and character, a century and a half later, has essentially reached legendary status. Eschewing a typical subject-centered pattern, Goodwin weaves together the threads of Lincoln's biggest rivals for the Republican nomination in 1860, William Seward, Salmon Chase, and Edward Bates, each of whom would serve in his cabinet. The depiction of how these ambitious men pursued the presidency and then adjusted to "consolation prizes" is a primary driver of the book, and an endless source of fascination. Other members of the cabinet, in particular the second Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, also provide a tremendous amount of color and interest, as do Lincoln's encounters with Frederick Douglass, who, like many others, went from disliking the President to holding him in the highest esteem. The "Team of Rivals" Lincoln had assembled sometimes worked really well, sometimes did not, but Lincoln had deeper motives for choosing an adversarial cabinet: not the least of which was keeping the various political factions from fracturing the Union.

Lincoln the man is depicted nowhere better than in his family life: his "hellcat" wife Mary, grown and largely absent son Robert, and precious boys Willie and Tad. That Lincoln was able to absorb so much tragedy in his own life, as well as in the bloodshed of the Civil War, while staying focused and enabling his team to be the best civil servants they could be, is truly remarkable. And the wind cries Mary.

Like any other reader, going into this book, I knew how it was going to end, with John Wilkes Booth fleeing from Ford's Theatre. But I had no idea how much it would move me. Goodwin's writing in the final chapter truly shines.

Finally, studying Civil War history from a purely military perspective misses so much important context. Goodwin's book provides a ton of that context, and humanizes the conflict. And I have to reiterate the level of scholarship - 120 pages of notes give some hint - she put in to the work, seemingly effortless insertions of quotations into the narrative.

"L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace." Longstreet's usage of a quote I know from the movie Patton amused me. He goes on to say:

"An Americanism which seems an appropriate substitute is, A level head, a level head, always a level head."

This reveals much of the character of James Longstreet, at least how he portrays himself in this book. Amongst a colorful cast including Stonewall Jackson, J.E.B. Stuart, and Robert E. Lee, Longstreet's level-headed contribution to the Southern cause is easily overlooked or taken for granted. Combined with other factors, such as not being a Virginian (his suspicion), his criticism of the lionized Lee, and his post-war activities as a Republican, Longstreet just "didn't make the podium" of Southern heroes that we see today, despite being Lee's "old war horse" commanding the first corps of the Army of Northern Virginia, and despite being one of three Confederates that President Johnson refused to grant amnesty - the others being Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee. I believe this reveals a great deal about the motivation behind Southern revisionist history.

Longstreet's book is very highly detailed, giving lengthy accounts of the various engagements he was involved in, which is a large proportion of the war. Sometimes it is too detailed. At several places he lists the units involved in the battles on both sides, along with their commanders, down to the regiments. These listings are invaluable data, to be sure, but they do little for the narrative. He also incorporates information of Union movements, that one gathers he must have collected details of later, to give the reader a comprehensive, almost objective, view of each engagement. Many times he even refers to himself in the third person. Sometimes I wished he would focus less on the "military history" and more on his own memoirs of the events, but overall the work is excellent, and in several places he holds no punches defending his record. And toward the end, he even seems to have found the inspiration to wax poetic about the army he served:

"As morning approached the combat was heavier. The rolling thunder of the heavy metal reverberated along the line, and its bursting blaze spread afar to light the doom of the army once so proud to meet their foe,–matchless Army of Northern Virginia!"

My copy is complete with about a dozen maps, portraits of various individuals, and artwork depicting several key moments in the described battles. The introduction and end notes by historian James I. Robertson, Jr. add context and correction where needed. This is certainly a "deep cut" read of Civil War history, but I would argue an important one. Like his pre- and post-war friend Ulysses S. Grant, Longstreet was a practical soldier, making up for his lack of flash with a broad understanding of his craft, and a profound sense of duty.