Book review: Lafayette by Harlow Unger

Book review: Lafayette by Harlow Unger

A hero, not a saint

 

 

Book review:

Lafayette

 

by Harlow Giles Unger (b.1931)

Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2002

452 pages

 

I acknowledge the obvious: Unger fully entertains in recounting that Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier de la Fayette was a national, military, political and, indeed, a paternal hero to millions in America and France during the American and (several) French revolutions.

There is no doubt that, despite the fact that he was one of the richest French nobles of his time, Lafayette was publicly and privately dedicated to republican government and a social/economic order that was far more egalitarian than the monarchical and aristocratic structures that prevailed.

Was he a great man? Unger, like many of his biographers, says yes. Lafayette was a courageous battlefield leader, he was an enlightened manorial lord who enhanced the lives of his peasants, and he was both outspoken and fearless, repeatedly, in literally dangerous political situations for a couple decades in Revolutionary and Napoleonic France. Unger amply—even poetically—demonstrates these lifelong characteristics of the man Americans called “our Marquis.”

I also feel obliged to call attention to some countervailing factors that Unger fully describes but does not adequately interpret.

Lafayette put his money where his mouth was. He repeatedly used his great personal wealth to pay and outfit the troops he commanded, when government funds and supplies ran low. I suggest a case could be made that the Marquis, uniquely among American commanders, paid for his military success in the Revolutionary War. Throughout the war, the options and operations of colonial commanders were significantly hindered by short funds and short supplies. If Lafayette had not been able to pay, feed, clothe, and arm his troops with his personal resources, could he have been as winning a general as he was? I suspect the answer is “No.”

Some biographers refer to Lafayette as the “victor” at Yorktown in 1781. Unger calls him a “hero” of Yorktown. Lafayette was not the only American general at Yorktown, and he wasn’t the only French general. Lafayette did use his small force to isolate Cornwallis in Yorktown, but he had to wait until Washington, Rochambeau and others arrived with sufficient forces before he participated in the final assaults.

In France he repeatedly declined to step up to the plate and take executive leadership, during the revolutionary and Napoleonic convulsions, when the French people and the contentious military/political factions would have handed the throne or the presidency of France to him on a velvet pillow. The Marquis repeatedly risked his life to defuse explosive situations by his personal, courageous intervention. However, Unger fastidiously details Lafayette’s repeated reluctance to take the final step and take control when, arguably, he could have stabilized dangerous situations, and forestalled or prevented catastrophic consequences. Lafayette wasn’t responsible for the violence, but, time after time, he left a void that unfortunately was filled by lesser men.

Was Lafayette a great man? Yes. A successful general? Yes. Was he a really lucky guy? Yes. Did he and his reputation benefit immensely from great wealth and fortuitous circumstances? Yes. Did he live up to his potential in serving France and the French nation? Maybe not.

There’s just one other thing: Unger profligately demonstrates that Lafayette and Washington had a deeply affectionate man-to-man—explicitly, like father and son—relationship, by using far too many excerpts from their numerous letters. It’s no biggie, but I had to stop reading them about halfway through the book…they bonded, I get it.

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

As with another eye: Poems of exactitude with 55 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Book review: Saint Joan

Book review: Saint Joan

Shaw’s calm dissection

      of the myths…

 

 

Book review:

Saint Joan

 

by George Bernard Shaw

Baltimore, MD: Penguin Books, 1964

159 pages, with extended Preface by Shaw and Epilogue

 

I read Saint Joan as a high school kid in 1964. I don’t remember much about that reading, except that I never forgot these words that Shaw wrote for his Joan: “I cannot bear to be hurt.”

It always seemed to me that Jehanne d’Arc (c1412-1431) could be the symbol of an innocent, profoundly driven young woman who was victimized by events that made a sweep in history, yet had only personal inspiration for her.

Joan of arc drawing wikimedia 1429 Contemporaine_afb_jeanne_d_arc

Sketch of Joan from life, 1429

In France, Joan is familiar as “the maid.” Did “la pucelle d’Orléans” (the maid of Orleans) really see and hear the Archangel Michael, St. Margaret, and St. Catherine? Who knows? Was Jehanne a religious nutcase who made confession every day and liked to play soldier? Who knows? Did she inspire great and not-so-great men to do mighty and courageous things in the service of their masters and for the glory of France? She did.

 

 

 

Shaw’s lengthy Preface to his play is a calm dissection of the myths and reality of this young woman, a noble and pitiable mover-and-shaker who led French armies to victory and who was burned at the stake for heresy and for cross-dressing. In Saint Joan, Shaw has few kind words for the men who resisted, accepted, honored, used, betrayed, burned, and finally beatified a peasant girl from Domrémy-la-Pucelle in northeastern France.

The folks in her home town finally named the village for her in 1578. You could say it was the least they could do while they were waiting for the Catholic church to make her a saint in 1920.

 

Shaw’s sympathetic treatment of The Maid inspired me to write this poem:

 

la pucelle

 

Joan, Joan, Joan…

O, you trusted your dream,

you thought it was enough to heed your voices,

you thought that God was on your side

and nothing else mattered,

you risked your beautiful soul

to save France,

and you didn’t understand

that too many of the men wanted

to win something else,

you went to the fire believing

in an eternity of goodness,

and you never knew

how little of your dream was left

for the people who loved you.

 

October 22, 2018

Inspired by George Bernard Shaw’s Saint Joan

My poem “la pucelle” was published in my fourth collection of 55 poems, As with another eye: Poems of exactitude. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited (search for “Richard Carl Subber”)

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Book review. My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

As with another eye: Poems of exactitude with 55 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

*   *   *   *   *   *

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A tempest in a prison

A tempest in a prison

Alas, Atwood didn’t use

   Shakespeare’s pen

 

 

Book review:

Hag-Seed

 

by Margaret Atwood, New York: Hogarth Shakespeare, Crown Publishing Group, 2016

 

I’m not a fan of writers who write books that are imitations or re-interpretations of other writers’ work. Hag-Seed is a case in point. Let’s be fair. Shakespeare’s plays are complex assemblages of characters, speeches and plots. Atwood’s work, nominally based on The Tempest, has the same characteristics.

Her prose and dialogue are ordinary, for my taste. Her story is about as far as one can get from magical. Of course a reader can figure out which of her characters is aligned with Shakespeare’s Prospero and Caliban and Miranda and so on. Of course a reader can see a transparent image of Shakespeare’s plot.

For my taste, Hag-Seed is an awkward, deliberately mean, and desperately inelegant version of The Tempest.

Cut loose from the Shakespeare connection, Hag-Seed is low-grade storytelling. IMNSHO.

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…and now for something completely different:

 

Hag-seed

 

Their hands are busy, rhythmic moves,

the three bend in to pace their work,

all hunched, with withered, trembling hands,

with eyes alert,

and silent lips that need not speak

the thoughts they share.

 

These crones engage each day to toil,

they do not keep a pot a-boil…

but a warming fire, as they need.

From different skeins

they draw their custom works in needled plait,

these hags intent on what’s in hand,

and hushed in awe of what’s at hand,

they huddle, each to each,

all cloaked in drab and drear,

their plainest miens

betray the luminous welling of their keenest joy,

and one of them, in blooming,

swells the hearts of all.

 

A spark of expectation lights and lightens

the artful labor of their crabbed fingers,

grasping small things of great portent—

a tiny cap, a shawl, a swaddling robe—

for the child to be born.

 

In waiting they are ladies

bound in common by certainty

and their exaltation

in believing that the babe will be a girl—

a budding rose without a thorn.

 

January 29, 2017

My poem “Hag-seed” was published January 23, 2018, in my second collection of 47 poems, Seeing far: Selected poems. You can buy it on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), or get it free in Kindle Unlimited, search for “Richard Carl Subber”

It’s easy to remember the sauce

(my nature poem)

“Debut”

click here

 

The Reader (Der Vorleser)

Not just a rehash of WWII…

by Bernhard Schlink

click here

I offer my kind of thoughtful book summary above. I write a serious review about almost every book I read. You can read other reviewers to get a detailed summary of what the book offers, and to learn specifics about the characters and plot. My reflective commentary is stimulated by the contents and the overall impact of the book, be it a love story or a history or a treatise or classic literature… Generally, I don’t have to post a spoiler alert. I’ll tell you about aspects of the book—the good, the bad, and the ugly—that make it exceptional. I’ll give you something to think about.

Your comments on my poems, book reviews and other posts are welcome.

Book review. My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 52 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Book review: The Scarlet Letter

Book review: The Scarlet Letter

slow-cooked human nature…

 

 

Book review:

The Scarlet Letter

 

by Nathaniel Hawthorne, London: Collins’ Clear-Type Press, 1850

368 pages

 

This is magnetic literature. The Scarlet Letter pulls me in, and keeps me connected to Hawthorne’s compelling exposure of slow-cooked human natures.

As I turn the pages, I put my hands on the beating hearts of Arthur Dimmesdale and Hester Prynne.  Dimmesdale flails in the crass miasma of his weakness. Hester does not try to escape her torment, and she creates iconoclastic goodness in nearly everything she does. They came close to escaping their time.

The scarlet letter of Hester’s ignominy is perhaps the least destructive element of this story of love that is a transgression and a transforming secret.

There is so much emotion and too little joy in Hawthorne’s tale of 17th century lovers. Alas, the story line is viciously inescapable.

Here’s another thought: as the story is commonly known and discussed, there is hardly enough engagement with the essential role of little Pearl, the happy-go-lucky and morbidly insightful child whose experience is vital in every chapter. Pearl is a connector in every element of the tale.

 

I guess you won’t have any trouble believing this:

after publication of The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne described it as “positively a hell-fired story, into which I found it impossible to throw any cheering light.”

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

 

Book review: Lord of the Flies

The story was never more relevant…

by William Golding

click here

 
My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 52 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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Book review: The Bartender’s Tale

Book review: The Bartender’s Tale

you know this country…

 

 

Book review:

     The Bartender’s Tale

 

by Ivan Doig (1939-2015)

Riverhead Books, Penguin Group (USA) Inc., New York, 2012

387 pages

 

If you’re an Ivan Doig fan, like me, this one will easily endear itself to you. It’s Ivan Doig-ish and it’s about a 12-year-old boy growing up with his father, in a saloon, in Gros Ventre, a likable-enough town with likable-enough people in Two Medicine country, in Montana, where the sheep are. If you’re an Ivan Doig fan, you sort of know this kind of country.

Spoiler alert: it ain’t This House of Sky. Pause. Repeat, for effect.

On the other hand, 12-year-old Rusty is a magnet for life experiences, he is a perceptive if sometimes innocent observer of what life crams into his young world, he ingenuously feels the first throbs of grown-up sadness, young love, careless aspiration, and fear of life-changing events that he sometimes only clumsily understands. Rusty is the kind of character that Doig understands.

Rusty’s relationship with his dad grows and changes from the first page to the last—for me, this plot thread is at least as compelling as the boy’s fantastic and wonderfully articulate transition from kid to person. Rusty learns from Tom even when Tom isn’t teaching, even when Tom is struggling with mysteries himself. Rusty listens in on Tom’s grown-up and sometimes overwhelming life, especially in the back room of the Medicine Lodge saloon….and the back room is stage center for Rusty and Zoe, his 12-year-old consort in young love and great adventures.

On the other hand, you see, The Bartender’s Tale is about a whole lot more than Rusty, and Tom, and Zoe. Too much more, I dare to say. For my taste, Doig gives us too many secondary characters who have primary roles, too many plot turns jumbled together, and too many momentous surprises, and here I’m trying sincerely to avoid using the distasteful word “contrived” but I think I can’t quite help myself….

Of course, I realize this sounds a bit like the Emperor telling Mozart that his music has “too many notes.” Forgive me.

Mostly I loved The Bartender’s Tale. Really, I couldn’t put it down. Really. Repeat, for effect.

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

Book review: The Sea Runners

…it informs, it does not soar…

by Ivan Doig

click here

many waters: more poems with 53 free verse poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

 

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Book review: Sketches by Boz

Book review: Sketches by Boz

The buzz about Boz!

 

Of course, they don’t write ‘em like this anymore.

Hooray for Charles Dickens (1812-1870). I’m talking about Sketches by Boz, his first book published in 1836.

I’m talking not only about the obvious point (Dickens has been dead these many years), but also about my understanding of the palpably inimitable Dickensian style.

Dickens does not fail to offer, time after time after time, character portraits that spring to life as you turn the pages—he sketches his characters with disinterested honesty, stout-hearted realism, generous indulgence, often a touch of whimsy…

 A case in point: “The Four Sisters,” who inhabit No. 25 Gordon Place in Sketches by Boz. In his brief (five pages) exposition of these cloistered ladies, Dickens ventures to create four personae that are not, will not, cannot be demeaned as a stereotype.

The Miss Willises—the master doesn’t trouble himself about not calling them the Misses Willis—are a scream, in a fastidiously literary kind of way.

Here’s a little taste:

“The house was the perfection of neatness—so were the four Miss Willises. Everything was formal, stiff, and cold—so were the four Miss Willises. Not a single chair of the whole set was ever seen out of its place—not a single Miss Willis of the whole four was ever seen out of hers. There they always sat, in the same places, doing precisely the same things at the same hour…They seemed to have no separate existence, but to have made up their minds just to winter through life together…The eldest Miss Willis grew bilious—the four Miss Willises grew bilious immediately. The eldest Miss Willis grew ill-tempered and religious—the four Miss Willises were ill-tempered and religious directly. Whatever the eldest did, the others did, and whatever anybody else did, they all disapproved of…”

I think this passage, like so many scenes in Dickens, is a singularity.

Re-reading Dickens is a singular treat for me.

 

You’re absolutely right, this is not quite a book review. I have a love affair with words, the carefully chosen words, words that express in exceptional ways the boundless variety of our thoughts, experiences, and emotions. I think a lot about life, the human condition, loving relationships with others, and the many levels of beauty, serenity, and delight in our natural environment. Reading the pithy words of real wordsmiths is always a learning opportunity.

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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2018 All rights reserved.

Book review: The Blithedale Romance

by Nathaniel Hawthorne, it’s not his best…

click here

My first name was rain: A dreamery of poems with 52 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”

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