I’ll just add a few more things to what I wrote in yesterday’s post.

I always look for faults in book, either in the writing, the organization, the failure to communicate–anything–and report them in my reviews. I’m hard pressed to find any in this one. If there is one, it may be that it paints Lincoln as a man with almost no faults.

Maybe it’s just that he was so adept at managing his cabinet (which is, after all, the purpose of the book) that it appears he did so faultlessly. If from reading this it appears Lincoln had a fault, it might be that he was too slow to act in many instances. However, that could also be seen as a virtue, depending on your point of view. Today we might all wish our president moved a little slower on some issues. Lincoln sometimes seemed to move agonizingly slow on some things. As Doris Kearns Goodwin says, he tended to be a good judge of popular opinion and not move far ahead of it. He waited for popular opinion to catch up with events and with what he wanted to do. Then, when he made his move, the public would seem to be behind him.

The role of the press is carefully brought out in the book. Today, with all the talk of media bias, we tend to forget that in Lincoln’s day newspapers were biased and unashamed of it. The Democrats had their newspapers and the Republicans theirs. Each reported in a partisan way. Between them, the balance was struck.

One lack I felt as I read the book, which could not be helped due to the limitations on the subject, was being totally cut off from what was going on in the South during the war. We are presented the North’s side of things, but have no idea what the South was doing, thinking, feeling, wishing. That cannot be helped, for the South was not the subject of the book. Still, I might rather the book had run 50 pages longer and we had a few more paragraphs now and then about the Southern viewpoint and activities.

The last chapter, which deals with Lincoln’s assassination, brought me some new information. I had no idea that this was a plot among several people and that Seward and Vice President Andrew Johnson were also targets, and that Seward’s assassin was almost successful. I thought the book well pointed out how Lincoln’s death was a tragedy for the South. The same plodding forbearance Lincoln demonstrated during the war would have served the South well during Reconstruction, and possibly eliminated much of the animosity that even now exists between the two regions.

Edited in on 26 June 2009: Kearns has an odd way of handling notes for sources. Well, to me it is odd; possibly it is a standard method for this type of publication. The book is heavily dependent on a large number of independent sources. Rather than use footnotes, Kearns uses endnotes, not at the end of the chapter but after the end of the story. However, she does not provide a superscripted note reference at the location within the text. Rather, where the notes are, she quotes a short piece of text, eliding much, and indicates the source. This, I suppose, is less distracting then those having those superscripts. A typical page of text would have ten endnotes. However, I like footnotes, even more so than endnotes. I would rather have the superscripts on the page, letting me know this material was taken from some primary source. I am more likely to check the note than with the method Kearns uses. This, of course, is an incredibly picky comment.

As I said in my last post, the book is well written, highly readable yet scholarly, and did not at all seem as long as the page numbers indicated. Read it. You will be better for it.

On Friday I finished Burnt Sienna, 2000, Warner Books, ISBN 0-446-51964-2, a novel by David Morrell. This is the second of Morrell’s novels I’ve read. The first was The Totem. That was a medical thriller. This was…I’m not sure what genre to put it in. A thriller, I guess.

Chase Malone had been a soldier, having piloted helicopters in the Panama invasion of 1989 and come away from that scarred. Yes, he was wounded, but more importantly he wound up with a dislike for authority of any type. Thus he left the military and took up painting–not houses, as a landscape artist. In ten years he won some renown, and some collectors would pay as much as $200,000 for one of his works. He lived in Cozumel, right on the ocean.

Derek Bellasar, who lived in France, tried to hire him to paint two painting of his wife, one a facial shot and one a nude. Malone turned down the commission, because of his problems with authority. Malone didn’t know Bellasar was a powerful dealer in illegal munitions. Bellasar quickly began interfering in Malone’s life, closing his favorite restaurant and buying his property out from under him. One of Malone’s ex-army buddies showed up. Now working for the CIA, this man talked Malone into accepting the commission, going to Bellasar’s estate near Nice, France, and finding out more about his operation.

The other part of Malone’s assignment was to get Bellasar’s wife out of the compound. It seemed that Bellasar had had three prior wives, all as beautiful as the current one, named Sienna, but they all died in mysterious circumstances about the age of 30, when the bloom of youthful beauty first began to fade. Right before each of them died Bellasar had hired famous artists to paint them, facial and nude.

The story began somewhat predictably. I found myself trying to anticipate the plot (the curse of a wannabe novelist) and being successful at it. I predicted Malone would fall for Sienna, that he would get her out, and how he would get her out. However, all this happened by about the middle of the book; obviously I had miscalculated. Morrell continued to weave his story, giving additional predicaments for Malone to work his way out of. I won’t say much more so as to not give away more of the plot.

The book is an amazingly easy read. Chapters are short, typically two or three pages. Sometimes a chapter break is not even a scene break. Morrell’s writing is spare of excess verbiage, except perhaps in some of the weapons scene. He keeps the story moving. He keeps the plot twists coming. He avoids gratuitous sex and violence. I read it in a little over a week, despite the limited time I had to give to reading. The twenty-five pages a day I had set as a goal was too easy, and I did more than that most days.

I recommend this book to any who like thrillers. It has a few swear words, but it they are sprinkled in very naturally, not gratuitously at all.

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.