It used to be that I picked up most books about the JFK assassination and read and kept them. Then I started picking up bios of JFK, always used. In June I bought at a thrift store A Question of Character: A Life of John F. Kennedy by Thomas C. Reeves (1991, Prima Publishing, ISBN 1-55958-196-4). I began reading it right away, finishing its 491 pages (including notes) in about a week.

The opening paragraph of the Preface is instructive:

It seems that I have always liked John F. Kennedy. I first saw him on television in 1956 when I was an undergraduate. The young senator was courageously struggling at his party’s national convention to win the vice presidential nomination, and I was taken with his good looks, energy, inspiring language, and grace in defeat. A look at Kennedy’s credentials as a war hero, intellectual, and liberal convinced me that he had a splendid future.

That tells the framework of where the author is coming from, but you sense a “but” coming. The Preface goes on to describe how the early biographies and memoirs of JFK were totally positive, what he later terms the Camelot School of Kennedy historians. Such people as Schlesinger, Sorensen, O’Donnell and Powers rushed out books that showed JFK to be a president who would have been envied by both Washington and Lincoln had they been alive.

But the “but” comes. By 1975, twelves years after Dealy Plaza, the literature began to take on some negatives. By 1977 it was exploded by Judith Cambell Exner’s book revealing her affair with him. In the decade after that, the Camelot School did their best to maintain the illusion of excellence of JFK’s life and presidency, but it was only a matter of time until more truthful, more balanced books and articles began to come forth.

Some time ago I read Seymour Hersh’s The Dark Side of Camelot, published in 1997 but researched beginning around 1992. I was shocked at some of what I read in that. Well, not really shocked, as I had already come to know that JFK was not the man many thought he was. But before that book I assumed his failings were in personal character, not in his job duties.

Hersh exploded that myth. Except it had already been exploded by Reeves, five years earlier. Hersh spent a lot of time on Kennedy’s womanizing. Reeves does also, but he goes more into the failings in doing the job Kennedy was elected to do, as well as in credentials. Here are some of the items that are well explained.

• PT 109 and war record. I need to read some more on this, but Reeves says that in all of WW2 one, and only one, PT boat was ever rammed by a Japanese ship, and that was PT109, under JFK’s watch. The reason: these boats were so fast that they could easily out maneuver a much larger vessel. That this PT boat was rammed was a blight on JFK’s war record. He showed some heroics in rescuing his men, but it was an apparent lapse on his part that cause the boat to be sunk in the first place.
• Profiles In Courage. I had heard something about this book being significantly edited, by Ted Sorensen, and that JFK should not have been given full credit for it, certainly not a Pulitzer. But Reeves shows convincingly that Kennedy had almost nothing to do with the writing. Sorensen did it all, including the research. And the Pulitzer was won because papa Joe Kennedy bought it. As I say, Reeves is quite convincing.
• Kennedy’s health. Hersh showed how JFK’s health was a basket case, which seemed to be at its best right when he became president. Reeves fills in some gaps Hersh left out (or, since Reeves came before Hersh, that Hersh decided didn’t need to be covered). Massive doses of medicinal drugs and “feel-good cocktails” kept JFK going. Reeves says even Jackie took amphetamines with JFK.
• Work ethic. Reeves explodes the myth (and Hersh spread the ashes) of JFK supposedly being a hard worker as president, as he had been a slackard legislator. At first he barely worked half a day, though later the demands of office grew on him and he was forced to put in longer hours. One disturbing event Reeves documents is the separation of Kennedy from the nuclear football, when JFK furtively traversed tunnels under New York City to get to a two-hour stand. And Reeves speculates that, given JFK’s normal MO, this could have happened many times.
• Political expediency. Reeves says JFK had no core of beliefs upon which to base policies. Everything he did (except maybe the Cuban Missile Crisis) was done based on “what will get me re-elected?” This is why he became ineffective in dealing with Congress; of course, many of them did not respect Kennedy because of his poor record as representative then senator. But this book is quite revealing in how the political calculation pretty much trumped any consideration of “what is best for America?”

I’m out of time for tonight, but will come back to this in another post in a day or two. Let me say the book is well worth the read if you can find it, even at full price instead of 50 cents as mine cost. It’s going into my library.

I’m not done with my taxes. Made little progress over a snowy weekend, but made excellent progress last night. So I now feel comfortable taking an evening to write things I enjoy, such as a book review of How Now Shall We Live? by Chuck Colson and Nancy Pearcy [Tyndale House Publishers, 1999, ISBN 0-8423-1808-9]. I finished reading this on March 9, after having begun it Feb 11. I took a couple of more days to go through some of the notes that I skipped while reading, then brought it to the Dungeon to write my review. It sat docilely on my work table awaiting this day.

I picked this book up used, for $1.99, at some used book store. I bought it more because of Coulson’s name and having liked the two or three of his books I’ve read before. I didn’t really know what it was about, even from a little bit of reading on the dust jacket. It’s about world view, specifically Christian worldview. So it agrees with a buzz-word topic of the 00 decade.

The book was somewhat heavy to get through, despite Coulson’s and Pearcy’s attempts at lightness and levity. Points of what a Christian world view consists of are illustrated with personal stories, both true and made-up, of people who lived out certain points: the New York cop who walked a beat and made a difference as he modeled Christ to those he encountered (true); a Hollywood producer who had to make choices about his films (fictional); and others.

Those were good. Actually, there’s nothing wrong with the rest of the book. Coulson explains that everyone has a worldview, and that worldview must answer three primary questions:

Where did we come from and who are we?
What has gone wrong with the world?
What can we do to fix it?

This leads into the section titled per the book: How now shall we live (i.e., in response to answers to the first three questions)? Coulson and Pearcy do an excellent job presenting the Christian answers to the three primary questions, and backing those answers up with a variety of references, both scriptural and extra-scriptural.

The book has extensive notes, which serve as a sort of reference to the Christian worldview. In fact, the entire book is almost a reference book, rather than a reading book. Oh, you can’t just jump into the middle, find a subject, and expect to use the book in refuting arguments against non-Christian worldviews–that is, unless you’ve already read the book. If you have, then you can use it as a pure reference book, with the excellent notes, index, and bibliography.

I will come back another day and write some more about this, as I don’t think I’ve done it justice. It’s 491 pages of text (plus notes, bibliography, and index) are, as I’ve said before, a bit difficult to sit with and read it cover to cover. But I’ll give my standard wrap-up in this post, and save a more detailed analysis for another day. This book was definitely worth the price, and would have been at full price. It’s a keeper, and shall be permanently in my library among its Christian counterparts. If you have not read much on worldview, this would be an excellent book to start with. Read it with concentration, and unhurriedly.

I would write more, but I’m anxious to write several other things tonight, including a political piece on friend Chuck’s blog. The wife went to OKC today to help with daughter, son-in-law, and grandson. I went straight from work to critique group tonight, but was the only one to show up. Must have had my signals crossed. Now I must use the solitude wisely.

This one I picked up somewhere–a used book store or thrift store, I think–because of Twain’s fame. As a writer, I should read what was successful, even if long ago, and see if I can learn from it.

I put this one in the reading pile somewhat arbitrarily, after Foxes Book of Martyrs and before Coulson’s How Now Shall We Live, trying to mix up new and old, fiction and non-fiction. This was a good place for it. Twain’s humor comes through in every short story, and I needed some humor. Some of it cause me to laugh out loud.

But, being a little less than half way through, I am laying it aside. Why? It’s just too much all at once. So far the forty stories I’ve read have all been humorous, none dramatic. Oh, the humor has its dramatic moments, such as encounters with thieves in “The McWilliamses and the Burglar Alarm”, though the drama quickly turns to humor.

They have all been excellently written in the first person, which gets tiring. Even when Twain uses a third person narrator, the narrator talks to the reader and finds a reason to switch to the first person point of view of the one he is narrating about. Writing gurus caution against too much use of the first person. Twain does it well, but it’s all too much and I’m laying it aside.

The stories vary in length, which is good. While more deal with western USA setting than other regions, Twain does situate some stories in other places, which is good. One tires of all western venues; it becomes too much.

Twain does not spoon feed his readers. He lets us think for ourselves and find the humor in his subtleties. And Twain is certainly subtle. His humor is that of the straight man in a comedy duo–Abbot rather than Costello, Laurel rather than Hardy, Rowen rather than Martin. Occasionally, however, Twain takes the voice of a vaudevillian story teller or a California tall tale teller. All this is good.

Tonight I finished “The Diary of Adam and Eve,” its twenty-two pages a two-night read. I knew it would be a hoot when it started: “Monday. This new creature with the long hair is a good deal in the way.” And it was a hoot.

But its all too much and I am laying it aside, placing it somewhere lower in my reading pile. I’ll come back to it. Twain wrote these over fifty years, and designed each to be a complete read in itself, not to be read collectively. Perhaps that’s why it’s all too much. But come back to it I shall, at its next appointed time in the reading pile.

It was 1843, and Charles Dickens’ latest novel, Martin Chuzzlewait, was not selling well–at least not by Dickens’ standards. So for another project to make some money, Britain’s most popular author wrote A Christmas Carol and got it to the market fast. It didn’t sell wildly, but made its author a little. More importantly, it established an important tradition: the Dickensian Christmas, and over twenty years of Christmas books and stories.

The next year Dickens wrote The Chimes, as he had A Christmas Carol, seemingly in off moments between his regular novels being written chapter by chapter just in time to be serialized, and rushed it to print. It is the story of Toby “Trotty” Veck, a day laborer/porter, aged into his sixties. He spends every day on the streets, in the shadow of a church, waiting on someone to have him deliver a letter or small package for six pence, or maybe a shilling.

From the church the chimes peal, keeping Toby company and speaking to him according to his mood. Toby Veck is poor, and almost alone. His young adult daughter, Meg, is the only one close to him. She brings him a hot lunch of tripe and potatoes, and they sit on the doorstep of Alderman Cute for Toby to eat. The gentleman passes out his door with two equally corpulent friends. They upbraid Toby for eating tripe–“the least economical, the most wastefull…consumption”–and finish what’s left on Toby’s plate. The, as Richard comes, the man Meg has just said she it to marry on new Years Day, the alderman advises Richard he can do better and not to marry Toby’s daughter. He does, however, engage Toby to deliver a letter to the local Member of Parliament.

The book then follows Toby’s actions that day and a dream he has that night. Toby delivers the letter to the MP, learns it contains orders to incarcerate a certain Will Fern who is down on his luck, meets and encourages that man and befriends him. He makes a midnight visit to his beloved chimes, and while among them falls into a trance, or perhaps a dream. He see things in Meg’s future, in Richards’ future, and his new friend’s future, and even his own future. The book ends with “all’s well”, as Meg and Richard marry on New Years Day, Toby’s new friends–Will Fern and his adopted daughter–come to live with him.

Although counted as a Christmas book, Christmas is never mentioned. All events look forward to New Years Day, which is close at hand. After reading A Christmas Carol many times, and seeing umpteen dramatic presentations of it, plus the many modern adaptions, almost anything else Dickens wrote about Christmas will be a let-down. And this one was. I found it difficult to follow Toby’s dream/trance, and all that was happening. Perhaps I didn’t read it as closely as I needed to. The language is slightly archaic, and the physical and social circumstances unfamiliar to a 21st Century American. None of these badly so, but perhaps they added up to hinder understanding.

The characters are not as well developed as in other Dickens books. The alderman and the MP are bad guys. Everything they do works against the poor, yet they call themselves the friends of the poor and justifying various anti-poor actions as being in favor of the poor. Each one makes a single appearance in the novella, so perhaps Dickens did not have enough space to fully develop them. This book is much more social commentary than A Christmas Carol, something Dickens put in many of his books. The rich and powerful are bad, the poor and downtrodden are good. No in between, no mixtures, no offsetting qualities. I haven’t read much Dickens (that is reserved for retirement), so I don’t know if his novels have better developed heroes and villains than this one.

Should you read this? Probably, if you can find it without plunking down a bunch of money. It should be in any collection of Dickens’ Christmas writings, and is probably available on-line. It’s good to branch out from his best known Christmas story. Next Christmas: The Cricket on the Hearth.

I’m not sure where I acquired this book, Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, by John Foxe, Whitaker House, 1981, ISBN 0-88368-095-5. Perhaps at a garage sale, for it does not have a resale shop sticker. I bought it because of the subject matter, not from prior familiarity. Who wouldn’t want to read about those who went before us in the faith, and who suffered the ultimate price for that faith?

John Foxe wrote this record of the saints’ suffering from about 1550 to 1563. He continued to modify it for years after until his death in 1587, adding anecdotes and more stories. These were difficult times in England. King Henry 8th took his nation out of the Roman Catholic church when the pope wouldn’t grant him a divorce. His heir, the boy king Edward VI, continued on the same Protestant path under the influence of regents, but died at age sixteen. His half sister Mary became queen in 1553, and for the five years of her short reign through domestic affairs into turmoil as she restored Catholicism and attempted to purge Protestantism with threats, coercion, imprisonment, and execution.

Foxe lived through this, though he spent the Mary years in exile. So the book is concerned mostly with the martyrs of that era. One long chapter covers martyrs of the first three centuries of Christianity. The next covers Constantine–not because he was a martyr but because of his impact on Christianity. John Wycliff is next, again not for martyrdom but for persecution and impact.

After this are chapters covering the martyred and the persecuted of the late 15th and 16th centuries, a parade of names both familiar and not: Oldcastle, Huss, Tyndale, Luther, Hooper, Taylor, Latimer, Ridley, Cranmer. Some chapters cover a number of martyrs in short fashion, such as those from Scotland and those many burned at the stake at Smithfield near Newgate.

Foxe, in his narratives, concentrates on the period after arrest of the “heretic”–the subsequent attempts to turn the prisoner to the Catholic faith, perhaps some words in defense or the refusal to recant, then the actual execution. Almost nothing is included about what led to the arrest, or of the martyr’s earlier life. That’s probably as it should be, but it leaves me a bit unsatisfied. I’d like to know more about how these men and woman developed the beliefs and convictions that allowed them to face the flames without fear and with joy.

I left the book having disgust for Queen Mary, and sadness that such things as trans-substantiation and the mass and the authority of the pope were once thought important enough to kill for. The most uplifting part was the testimony of the saints, who maintained confidence and steadfastness in their beliefs, who joined the ones that an ancient writer declared “faced jeers and flogging, …were chained and put in prison, …stoned, …sawed in two, … put to death by the sword…went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated.” For all of these received something better, planned by God.

Is this book a keeper? I’m not sure at this point. It is almost source material for other writing. But I think probably not. Should you read it? The language is archaic, as is the organization (lack of subheadings, extremely long paragraphs), so it is a difficult read. But, yes, if you have an opportunity, read it and be enlightened.

I came of age during the Watergate era, both literally and politically. In November 1972, helped along by a national law that lowered the voting age in national elections, I stepped into a voting booth in Cranston RI and cast my first vote for president. I voted for Richard Nixon. The Watergate scandal was a gnat buzzing in people’s ears, pushed about by a press that hated Nixon. It was not till five months after the election that it erupted to the point where heads rolled, and it was another year and then some before Nixon resigned.

Out of this scandal was the fight over Nixon’s presidential papers. The courts wanted them. The press wanted them. Defendants wanted them–even more so than prosecutors in some cases. Yet history had said that a president’s papers from his years in office were his own, to be done with as he saw fit. Destroy them, put them in a library, suppress them, edit them. They were his. The need for Nixon’s papers caused a long legal battle that was not resolved until 1987. The papers became available in 1988.

Bruce Oudes began the process of going through the released Nixon papers, which went into his book From The President: Richard Nixon’s Secret Files. Oudes’ title is almost yellow journalism. The files were not secret because they all contain salacious material that showed what bad dudes Nixon and his cronies were. They were “secret” simply because Nixon thought they belonged to him, as those of his predecessors had belonged to them. But Congress passed laws, the courts upheld them, and Oudes and countless like him got the papers.

The lengthy Introduction to the book is excellent. Oudes describes the fight for the papers and how the national mood was pretty much to give nothing to Nixon. Oudes describes how the files amounted to 1.5 million pages, which he culled through to produce a book of 640 pages. It was a massive work, and obviously everything could not be included. With such abridgement, achieving a fair balance is difficult if not impossible. The editor’s prejudices must show through.

The papers focus heavily on Chuck Colson and the political maneuverings he orchestrated. In fact, the papers as a whole are mostly political. A small minority deal strictly with governing. The China trip, for instance, is covered in memos that discuss the political ramifications of the trip but not many that discuss what that trip would mean for the world and for US interests. The years 1973 and 1974 are under-represented, 1974 badly so. It was as if the Administration quit producing memos on January 1, 1973.

Despite these faults, I found the reading fascinating. It was sort of like the business correspondence I read every day. Seeing how the Administration sought to manipulate the press was eye-opening. The reaction to a bad press consumed many memos. The Vietnam War was the backdrop to everything, but the memos described the happenings on the home front, not the battle front.

I was disturbed to see White House employees–Coulson, Buchanan, Haldeman, and others spending time producing memos purely about politics and the 1970 and 1972 elections. I was not pleased to see how my tax dollars (well, mostly Dad’s tax dollars) go to politics rather than governing. Perhaps it is not possible to achieve a complete separation of staff so that some work on politics, some work on governing, and each is paid by monies from an appropriate source. Still, it was bothersome.

It’s a good book, and well worth the $2.00 I paid for it used at our local thrift store. If you have a chance to find it, read it. The memos themselves are unfiltered history–original source material–though of course the selection of the memos make the book a highly filtered flawed history. This one is not a keeper. It will be in the next garage sale, where I hope to make back half my investment.