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I loved this book. Having borrowed it from the library, I'm almost certainly going to buy an ebook edition so I can dip into it from time to time. Having said that, though, I've got to add that it's quirky enough that if the author's tone grates on you, you might have a hard time with it. I love the author's tone. I love going from laugh-out-loud funny to whoa-gotta-think-about-this in the space of one paragraph.
Sarah Vowell embarked on a determined -- one might say "obsessive" -- quest to explore sites associated with the assassinations of three U.S. presidents: Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield, and William McKinley. If you're anything like me, just about the only thing you know about the latter two is that they were assassinated. In fact, the whole stretch between Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt is a New Jersey Turnpike of presidential history: nothing sticks in the mind and the attention keeps wandering.
Once one gets off the highway, however, the detail is fascinating. Who knew, for instance, that Charles Guiteau, Garfield's assassin, was part of the Oneida utopian community in upstate New York? Or that Leon Czolgosz, who killed McKinley, had the hots for Emma Goldman? (Actually that's not such a stretch, since Czolgosz was an anarchist.) Or -- conspiracy theorists, take note -- that Robert Todd Lincoln was in the vicinity of all three assassinations, in 1865, 1881, and 1901?
I didn't even realize that Stephen Sondheim had written Assassins, a Tony Award–winning musical about these people and a few more, some successful and some not. While following the trail of Daniel Chester French, sculptor of the Lincoln statue in the Lincoln Memorial, Vowell sees a production of the play and over breakfast tries to convey her enthusiasm to her fellow guests at a staid B&B in western Massachusetts. It's pretty funny.
Vowell was traveling and writing Assassination Vacation as the George W. Bush administration was lying its way into a war on Iraq that turned out to be even more disastrous than the pessimists expected. From time to time, this bleeds through (uh, sorry about that) into the historical narrative, with the result that she feels a startling, fleeting empathy for the assassins, nearly all of whom felt on some level that killing the president was the best and maybe only way to change the nation's course. Reading it while demagogues do their damnedest to whip their followers into a frenzy that makes violence seem thinkable, even necessary . . . It's sobering, to say the least.
Anyhow, I'd recommend this book both to readers interested in U.S. history and politics and to those who think that U.S. history and politics are too boring to bother with. They aren't.
Sarah Vowell embarked on a determined -- one might say "obsessive" -- quest to explore sites associated with the assassinations of three U.S. presidents: Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield, and William McKinley. If you're anything like me, just about the only thing you know about the latter two is that they were assassinated. In fact, the whole stretch between Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt is a New Jersey Turnpike of presidential history: nothing sticks in the mind and the attention keeps wandering.
Once one gets off the highway, however, the detail is fascinating. Who knew, for instance, that Charles Guiteau, Garfield's assassin, was part of the Oneida utopian community in upstate New York? Or that Leon Czolgosz, who killed McKinley, had the hots for Emma Goldman? (Actually that's not such a stretch, since Czolgosz was an anarchist.) Or -- conspiracy theorists, take note -- that Robert Todd Lincoln was in the vicinity of all three assassinations, in 1865, 1881, and 1901?
I didn't even realize that Stephen Sondheim had written Assassins, a Tony Award–winning musical about these people and a few more, some successful and some not. While following the trail of Daniel Chester French, sculptor of the Lincoln statue in the Lincoln Memorial, Vowell sees a production of the play and over breakfast tries to convey her enthusiasm to her fellow guests at a staid B&B in western Massachusetts. It's pretty funny.
Vowell was traveling and writing Assassination Vacation as the George W. Bush administration was lying its way into a war on Iraq that turned out to be even more disastrous than the pessimists expected. From time to time, this bleeds through (uh, sorry about that) into the historical narrative, with the result that she feels a startling, fleeting empathy for the assassins, nearly all of whom felt on some level that killing the president was the best and maybe only way to change the nation's course. Reading it while demagogues do their damnedest to whip their followers into a frenzy that makes violence seem thinkable, even necessary . . . It's sobering, to say the least.
Anyhow, I'd recommend this book both to readers interested in U.S. history and politics and to those who think that U.S. history and politics are too boring to bother with. They aren't.