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I have memories of when this book came out. As I recall, it was an event, something heralded in bookstores and written about in places beyond the book review sections. Here was a major American intellectual taking on one of our greatest American sacred cows.
This is still an intriguing book, and one I mostly enjoyed, but I’m struck as well by how far in the past its release date now seems. For lack of a better term, Gore Vidal was writing for a “middlebrow” readership, people who were neither academic nor cutting-edge in their expectations of artistry, yet who also expected to be informed.
That world seems deeply shrunken if not vanished today. You can’t really read this book without a lot of what was common knowledge in earlier generations. You need, for instance, to have a solid working knowledge of the sequence of Civil War battles to understand the action here. You need, as well, to have more or less accepted the vision of Lincoln as the great savior of the nation in order to understand the impact the book is seeking.
In a word, this is quasi-revisionist history. The Lincoln whom Vidal gives us is a cosmopolitan who uses his log-cabin/rail-splitter back-story for purely political reasons. He is ever political in his calculations, proving himself much less an abolitionist than many of his allies – particularly Salmon P. Chase and William Sumner. And he is clumsy in a way that often works to his advantage, but clumsy all the same, often over-stepping his Presidential prerogatives and pitting his often cleverer rivals against each other.
All in all, this Lincoln is more an opportunist than a visionary, the right man for his dramatic moment less because of his greatness than because of the peculiar shape of his more modest gifts.
As I understand it from Burr, this is Vidal’s M.O. He takes what we are supposed to know about American history and turns it on its head. Burr wasn’t quite the ruthless and clever figure history told us; he was also a kind of bungler on a great stage.
It’s striking to think that there was once a best-seller audience for this sort of work. I’m glad it still exists, though, because there is a lot of fun here, and it works especially well as an audiobook.
The other striking feature of this – one that further dates it in terms of its appeal – is that this is a novel about the Civil War that takes place almost entirely in people’s kitchens and drawing rooms. We never get direct narration of battle, only the reports of battle as they circulate among people in Washington. We rarely see misconduct; instead, we see people reacting to the stories of it.
In an odd way, then, this feels almost like a staged play. Vidal never bothers with the business of large-scale scenes. Instead, he works to keep that vast story on a human scale.
There are times when this might run on too long and times when it’s frustrating that the stage is so small. All said, though, it’s an intriguing look at a Lincoln who, even with some of the luster knocked off, comes across as a personality who preserved and reinvented the American nation.
This is still an intriguing book, and one I mostly enjoyed, but I’m struck as well by how far in the past its release date now seems. For lack of a better term, Gore Vidal was writing for a “middlebrow” readership, people who were neither academic nor cutting-edge in their expectations of artistry, yet who also expected to be informed.
That world seems deeply shrunken if not vanished today. You can’t really read this book without a lot of what was common knowledge in earlier generations. You need, for instance, to have a solid working knowledge of the sequence of Civil War battles to understand the action here. You need, as well, to have more or less accepted the vision of Lincoln as the great savior of the nation in order to understand the impact the book is seeking.
In a word, this is quasi-revisionist history. The Lincoln whom Vidal gives us is a cosmopolitan who uses his log-cabin/rail-splitter back-story for purely political reasons. He is ever political in his calculations, proving himself much less an abolitionist than many of his allies – particularly Salmon P. Chase and William Sumner. And he is clumsy in a way that often works to his advantage, but clumsy all the same, often over-stepping his Presidential prerogatives and pitting his often cleverer rivals against each other.
All in all, this Lincoln is more an opportunist than a visionary, the right man for his dramatic moment less because of his greatness than because of the peculiar shape of his more modest gifts.
As I understand it from Burr, this is Vidal’s M.O. He takes what we are supposed to know about American history and turns it on its head. Burr wasn’t quite the ruthless and clever figure history told us; he was also a kind of bungler on a great stage.
It’s striking to think that there was once a best-seller audience for this sort of work. I’m glad it still exists, though, because there is a lot of fun here, and it works especially well as an audiobook.
The other striking feature of this – one that further dates it in terms of its appeal – is that this is a novel about the Civil War that takes place almost entirely in people’s kitchens and drawing rooms. We never get direct narration of battle, only the reports of battle as they circulate among people in Washington. We rarely see misconduct; instead, we see people reacting to the stories of it.
In an odd way, then, this feels almost like a staged play. Vidal never bothers with the business of large-scale scenes. Instead, he works to keep that vast story on a human scale.
There are times when this might run on too long and times when it’s frustrating that the stage is so small. All said, though, it’s an intriguing look at a Lincoln who, even with some of the luster knocked off, comes across as a personality who preserved and reinvented the American nation.