David Halberstam’s conclusion, or what I draw as his conclusion from his 736 pages of The Powers That Be, is: The changes in the media from the 1930s to the 1970s changed politics, and especially the presidency.

Duh. Did he really need 736 tedious pages to come to this conclusion? As I said or implied in my previous posts about this book (here and here), I had a tough time getting though this book. The writing style, the length of chapters, the flood of names, all worked against easy reading. But Halberstam’s main point was obvious throughout, and he makes a fair case. Of course, that seems somewhat obvious. How could politics and the presidency not be changed when the main way news is disseminated changes from twice daily newspapers to sound-bite television? It has to change.

One interesting aspect of the narrative is how the four media highlighted in the book (CBS, Washington Post, Time Inc., and the Los Angeles Times) shifted from conservative-Republican outlets–or in the case of CBS a non-ideological outlet–to become liberal, Democratic-leaning outlets. I’d have to do some more study to necessarily agree with this conclusion, but I won’t dismiss it outright. Maybe these media outlets were conservative once. Interesting concept.

I cannot recommend this book to others. Oh, if you are a media junkie who loves history and easily retains names and facts repeated or updated on widely separated pages, this book may be for you. This will go immediately to the “books for sale box” in the garage, not to a shelf of books being kept. And, to keep from repeating what I feel was Halberstam’s primary error, I will cut this review short.

Since some time in October 2008 I have been slogging my way through The Powers That Be by David Halberstam, 1979 [ISBN 0-394-50381-3]. I finished this tome on February 23rd.

Yes, tome is the way to describe these 736 pages. I picked up this book at a thrift store in Mississippi while passing through on vacation last year. While waiting on my wife to finish her shopping, I read about five pages of the Prelude, telling a story about a Democratic Party rally in El Paso, Texas in September 1960, with Sam Rayburn waiting the arrival of JFK and LBJ. Rayburn’s thoughts on how the media was negatively impacting politics were told in an entertaining way. The subject being interesting and the writing good, I took the plunge, paid a buck, and toted it back to Arkansas.

David Halberstam explains his purpose in writing the book, not in the Prelude, but in the end of the book Acknowledgements: “This book is the product of five years of work. It began as a small idea in 1973 and it grew, constantly changing incarnations. At first it was going to be merely a book on a television network and the presidency; gradually it evolved into a book on the rise of modern media and their effect on the way we perceive events.”

Halberstam had set himself an immense task. So many years between the New Deal and Watergate, so many media outlets, so many politicians, so many media personalities. How to sift through and refine? You can’t cover everything in a single volume, even at 736 pages. Once again Halberstam covers this in the Acknowledgements: “In selecting the four institutions that have the major role in this book, I tried to give as fair a cross section of the national press as I could. I chose CBS because it has traditionally represented the best in broadcast journalism; Time because among national magazines it reflects something special in the American character; the Washington Post because it has become a serious national newspaper and because this is in part a book about the road to Watergate; and the Los Angeles Times for those reasons and also because it played so large a part in the career of Richard Nixon.”

An eastern newspaper. A weekly news magazine. A radio and television network. A western newspaper. Obviously radio was new, television newer, weekly magazines a little older, while newspapers were, at the time of FDR’s first inaugural, the mainstay of how Americans learned the news.

Technology changed everything. Radio allowed voices to be heard. Printing technology allowed pictures to be seen weekly at reasonable prices. Television brought movement and voice together. Politicians needed to embrace and adapt to these new technologies or they would find themselves voted home. Halberstam does a good job of showing how the changing technologies changed how the different types of media interacted with each other; how the jealousies and competition between owners, publishers, editors, and reporters all had their impact. He describes the rise of investigative journalism and its role, as well as how radio then television rang the death knell for evening newspapers.

In two additional posts, I’ll write something about Halberstam’s writing style, and draw some conclusions from the book–his and mine.

I knew as I was typing yesterday that other things had come to mind that I wanted to include in my review of The Totem, but which escaped me at that moment. They’ve since come back.

Morrell begins almost every chapter with a style I like, call it a “B-A-C” style. If you take the normal order of three events, some past event that lead to what is happening right now and one that happens next, and represent it by letters, it would be A-B-C. That is, A happened, now B is happening, and C happens next. In the B-A-C style, you say B is happening, a follow-up to A which just happened, and C happens next. Morrell does this constantly throughout the book.

I hesitate to say every chapter, but for sure in many chapters. I also used this method when I wrote Doctor Luke’s Assistant. I had never seen this described in any book on writing techniques. In fact, DLA was complete before I began reading those books. I just liked that style: begin the chapter with immediate action; then say what happened between chapters; then return to the action moving forward. As I began to pay more attention to the writing style in other novel, and to read those books on writing, I never saw this technique used or even discussed. So I edited some of those out of DLA, and haven’t been using that style in In Front Of Fifty Thousand Screaming People. After reading Morrell, I’m reconsidering.

Another thing Morrell did exceedingly well was the working in of back story. All the major characters had a past that impacted something on the event in the book. Slaughter had killed someone while on duty as a cop in Detroit, and was himself another shot with a shot gun and almost killed. The reporter was an alcoholic, fallen to a low position on the newspaper staff. The medical examiner had been in a fast-paced similar position in Philadelphia and ruined his career by becoming obsessed with his work. The younger veterinarian, Owens, had a past. Morrell is in no hurry to tell us all this. For the first third of the book he concentrates on developing the horror that is to come, letting the reader know enough to conclude the truth without giving it fully away. The last third of the book is devoted to the fast-paced actions that lead to the penultimate battle. The middle third of the book consists of long-ish chapters that give the back story of the major characters. It is done well. Even when telling us the back story, Morrell tells just enough to help us understand the characters, not so much as to overwhelm us.

A few more observations.

• I mentioned that the denouement left me unsatisfied. One of the reasons is we don’t find out what happened to several characters who contracted the virus. We see them in their fully affected states, or even in their developing states, but with a couple of exceptions we don’t find out about them. We don’t see any consequences for the mayor, who botched things so badly.
• The hippy colony was established in 1970; the book takes place around 1993. Yet during all this time, the town of Potters Field apparently had no contact with them, didn’t know they had changed locations, didn’t know how many were there or if they even existed. While the town “decided” in 1970 they wouldn’t have anything to do with the hipppies, it seems unlikely that for 23 years the two existed so close together (at most 60 miles apart), and no one from the colony came to the town to buy or sell, seek medical treatment, whatever. That is somewhat improbable, it seems to me. If they couldn’t come to town because of the virus, why did it take 23 years for this outbreak to occur? While this is a weakness in the plot (in my opinion, of course), it doesn’t really detract from the enjoyment of the tale.
• The reappearance of Lucas Wheeler, the boy from the town who joined the colony, at the very time when he was needed to identify the one person from the colony who made his way into town during the crisis, was a coincidence too much.
• Editing: I remembered another thing I wanted to say. The tie of the title to the story was not as strong as I would like. Morrell defines totem on the front end pages: “1. among primitive peoples, an animal or natural object considered as being related by blood to a given family or can and taken as its symbol. 2. an image of this.” I suppose the tie-in is based on what Dunlap, the reporter, found in the throne room. However, I would have liked the tie to be stronger.

That’s all I can think of for now. Plus I feel like I have written too much negative. Each of these seems to be magnified in my words, whereas they were really a series of minor problems, none of which individually, nor all together, made the book any less enjoyable.

Continuing to chip away at my long reading list, today I completed the next book on it: The Totem, a novel by David Morrell. I don’t know how well his name is known among the reading public, but everyone knows the character from his first novel: Rambo. Yes, Morrell wrote First Blood and created the Rambo character, later picked up for movies. I bought The Totem mainly because of Morrell. He taught a one-day class on fiction at the 2006 Glorieta Christian Writers Conference in New Mexico, and I bought his book on writing fiction.

I got aways into the book and began to realize it was a horror story. I don’t read horror at all, and was surprised this was a horror and not an action book. I turned to the cover, and it was right there: “A classic horror novel”. Well, nothing to do but continue. After all, I bought the book, and needed to get my $4.98 plus tax worth (from the Barnes & Noble remainders table).

The book was originally published in 1979, but Morrell re-released it in 1995, adding back in material the original publisher had asked to have deleted, and updating it for the later date. It takes place in and around the town of Potters Field, set in Wyoming. A colony of hippies had settled there about 1970, and hangers-on had come into the town and were run out by the townspeople. The version I read put those event 23 years in the past, so it was obviously updated.

The novel begins with a rancher checking his fences in June. He finds some deer carcasses and then a cow carcass that was mutilated in a frightening way. He calls the old vet, who comes out and gets the carcass, takes it back to autopsy it, discovers something terrible–whatever it was that killed the cow–but dies of a heart attack. In the confusion, the carcass is incinerated. So the cause of death is a secret. After that, a boy is bit by a raccoon, and within sixteen hours has become a lunatic animal, crawling on all fours, snarling, biting, licking. He attacks his mother, biting her, and runs away.

At this point rabies obviously comes to mind, but not exactly, for rabies takes more time to develop. A younger vet is called in; and the medical examiner. The police chief, Nathan Slaughter is also involved. In fact, Slaughter is the main character, although he isn’t introduced until the seventh chapter (I’ll have to discuss that with some writing pros). Slaughter left police work in Detroit to live an easier life on a simple ranch outside Potters Field, but was pressed into service as the town’s police chief five years earlier.

In the early going, Morrell does a good job of painting the scene so that the reader knows more than the characters. The reader knows long before any of the characters that this isn’t rabies, which doesn’t act as fast as whatever is going around. The early encounters with the whatever-this-disease-is are explained slowly. As the book progresses, less and less time is spent on each new encounter. This technique enhances the idea of a virus spreading rapidly, exponentially. The attacks come both in the town and out in the valley, and in those ranches that touch the mountains. The character who found the mutilated cow disappears; five state policemen use dogs to pick up the sent from where his abandoned truck. The arrive at a lake up in the mountains after dark, and are attacked by something and killed. Actually, in the scene Morrell does not really explain what happens to them, but implies it’s something pretty bad.

A reporter, Dunlap, had arrived in town just before the attacks start. He is doing a story on the old hippy colony and what became of it. He is an alcoholic, has fallen from a higher reputation, and is relegated to this. Another character returns to town. He was the teenager who joined the hippy colony which resulted in his father killing one of them and spending time in prison. The son has come back to claim his share of the ranch, also with notions of a possible reconciliation to his dad. Of course, his dad takes on a solitary vendetta against whatever is coming down out of the mountains, killing stock and spreading this virus.

Slaughter, the police chief, while checking a scene where the town wino died, is attacked by a “cat”, but shoots it and blasts its head to bits. The boy who bit his mom is trapped in an old mansion (the town’s main tourist attraction), and appears to be killed by a sedative–as a dog had been earlier–only to come to life on the autopsy table. Slaughter at this point on the Saturday night realizes something pretty bad is going on. The next morning he called the mayor, suggested drastic measures, only to be turned down and eventually turned out as police chief. Since the disease, probably a virus, did that to the boy (and to his mom), the thought is planted: could this be related to humans, perhaps the hippy colony gone amok?

I don’t want to give too much of the plot away, in case someone reading so far decides to buy the book, so I’ll stop here. The book is well written, as you would expect from a man who was able to have his first book published and turned into a movie. Morrell now has many novels to his credit. I found two things that bothered me about the book.

1. Too many times a past perfect tense is used when a simple past tense would seem appropriate. I did not mark this in the book, and flipping pages just now I can’t find any examples. I mean such things as “He was wondering what was causing the sickness” rather than, “He wondered what caused the sickness.” These came in batches, continuous few paragraphs. I’m sure Morrell had a purpose for this, but I couldn’t detect it.
2. The denouement was not as complete as I would have liked. We didn’t actually find out what caused the virus. It turned out to be related to the hippy colony, but how did it happen? We never found out what happened to the rancher who disappeared, and must presume he, his wife, and son perished. A few other loose ends are not tied up as neatly as I would have liked.

It’s a good read, however, and I recommend the book. It has a few cuss words, and Jesus’ name is taken in vain some, especially in one scene. But the book has no gratuitous violence and sex, which help to recommend it.