biography

April 17, 2024

Book Review: Marie Antoinette

“The real work of destruction had been done long before by satire, libel and rumour; Marie Antoinette had become dehumanized. The actual assault by a body of people inspiring each other with their bloodthirsty frenzy was the culmination of the process, not the start of it.”

I remember back in the day when Paris Hilton’s exploits were splashed all over the tabloids, people would whine that she was only famous for being famous. Then the Kardashian family took that hustle to a whole new level. But this isn’t a millennial generation phenomenon. Socialites exist across cultures and generations. There are always women (and it’s almost always women) who become subjects of breathless press attention and the center of often completely made-up gossip. And in Europe back in the day, those people were aristocrats.

Royal families, of course, are the ultimate celebrities. They’ve been the center of national and international attention from time immemorial. And there are few royal personages who have been more famous than Marie Antoinette. In her Marie Antoinette: The Journey, Antonia Fraser presents the life of the title subject, a woman who didn’t even make it to 40 but still looms large in our cultural imagination. And first things first: Fraser debunks in the prologue the myth of “let them eat cake”, looking at historical sources to ascertain that the same words had been attributed to unpopular upper-class French women several times previously.

What emerges from the well-researched work is a portrait of a disaster that would have been difficult to avert unless the people involved had been truly extraordinary. And unfortunately, Marie and her husband, Louis XVI, were unsuited for both each other and the circumstances in which they found themselves. Marie, born Archduchess Maria Antonia of France, was charming, graceful, and eager to please but a poor student of anything outside of music. Louis-Auguste was awkward and though bright, poured his energies into locks and hunting. Their failure to consummate their marriage and produce an heir until seven years after the fact made them the subjects of vicious, back-biting gossip which continued throughout their reign, with Marie as a particular target. According to the rumors, she was a lesbian who had flings with her favorite ladies-in-waiting, or she was being unfaithful to the king with various and sundry men, including Swedish Count Axel Fersen (who it is likely she actually had an affair with). Even as the French Revolution loomed, the royal couple refused to leave France until it was too late, and as we all know, they lost first their crowns, and then their heads.

Biographies of historical figures range the gamut from fact-intensive, can’t-see-the-forest-for-the-trees tomes to light and gossipy and style-over-subtance. Fraser manages the tricky art of having clearly done her homework, referencing many primary sources, while not forgetting to make sure that the book is ultimately appealing to readers. She ties in larger historical movements and personalities to Marie’s story, giving sufficient context to her audience for understanding while not letting herself get drawn too far into tangents that would distract from the narrative arc she builds for Marie. It helps, of course, that her life was both well-chronicled and dramatic, soaring to the heights of wealth and luxury before plunging into despair and death. It’s sometimes dense, but ultimately compelling, with Fraser drawing out a real sense of a person underneath the facts. I found the book both entertaining to read and informative, and would recommend it to anyone interested in the subject!

December 9, 2021

Book 313: First

“She had an intuitive, almost uncanny sense of just how far to go—in almost any realm of human endeavor. Her deftness was useful in navigating the politics of the Junior League, but it was obvious to everyone, including the Junior Leaguers, that larger stages beckoned. She did not appear to chafe at the limited opportunities available to a young Phoenix society matron in 1965; rather, she made the most of them. But her ambition was palpable, if not articulated or yet fully formed.”

Dates read: April 30- May 7, 2019

Rating: 7/10

When I was a little girl, my mom got me a set of encyclopedias for kids. I was (and am) a big weirdo, so I read those things cover to cover, and that’s the first place I remember reading about Sandra Day O’Connor. I was fascinated with the story of the little ranch girl who grew up to be the first female Supreme Court Justice. I decided that I wanted to be one of those, and got all the way to being a lawyer and actually practicing before I figured out that maybe that might not be my destiny. But even after I left the legal profession, O’Connor’s dignity and pragmatism meant that she remained one of my role models.

When I took Constitutional Law in law school, I found myself both often agreeing with but then frustrated by Justice O’Connor’s jurisprudence. I felt that she usually reached a correct (or at least defensible) result, but the balancing tests she created often could be argued to support a decision that went either way. The law loves a bright line, but Justice O’Connor loved a compromise. The life that led her to be that kind of thinker is detailed in Evan Thomas’s First, for which he was granted access to many family sources, as well as the expected interviews of friends and colleagues. What emerges is a portrait of a woman whose early years gave her a toughness, whose intelligence was innate and considerable, who had her ability to know when to charm and when to push honed by the political arena, and who never let go of her conviction that an attractive middle ground could be found on almost every issue.

Most people who are fans enough of O’Connor to pick up a book like this know at least the rough outlines of her life: childhood on the Lazy B ranch in Arizona, excellence at both Stanford undergraduate studies and law school being unrewarded with job offers suiting her skills after graduation, marriage to dynamic fellow attorney John O’Connor, motherhood, service in the Arizona Legislature, then moving up the judicial ladder to the Supreme Court, where she became the first female Supreme Court Justice. After decades on the bench, she left to spend more time with her husband, but his dementia was too far advanced to give them much time together before he needed more intense care than she was able to give. She championed the cause of civic engagement in her post-Court life until announcing her own Alzheimer’s diagnosis and taking a step back to live as a truly private citizen for the first time since she was a young woman.

I wanted this book to be more than it was, and perhaps my disappointment is my own fault for having expectations that it was never written to match. I was hoping for more psychological insight, more historical context…less a recitation of life details than a work that sought to explain her as a person and as a figure in the public imagination. To call First a mere catalogue of personal facts would be unfair. It’s clearly intensely researched, and the people Thomas spoke to and accessed records from would be the ones who would be able to provide a look into the human behind the dignified portrait we all know. But either they were unwilling to divulge information that might paint a fuller picture, or she was truly so private that few people knew her well enough to give it. What this makes for is a book heavy on the who, what, and when, but light on the why.

I’ll admit part of my opinion was shaped by my perception that Thomas has an ideological bent to his work. Obviously, O’Connor was a Republican, and Thomas seems to also have a conservative outlook. But when he announces early in the work that he believes her to be the kind of woman who would (this is a paraphrase) roll her eyes at the feminists of today and their objectives, it rankles. There is certainly a conversation to be had about the various waves of feminism and how their goals and methods have differed from/been in conflict with others, and O’Connor may or may not have even thought of herself as a feminist, but these and several other little editorial comments certainly irritated me while reading and made me wonder how well-rounded of a biography he was really seeking to create. In the end, if you want a thorough biography of the quietly trailblazing first woman to sit on the Supreme Court, you’ll find a lot here. If you want a more nuanced or complex look at the person she was though, I’d skip it.

One year ago, I was reading: Brideshead Revisited

Two years ago, I was reading: The Woodcutter

Three years ago, I was reading: The Goldfinch

Four years ago, I was reading: The Games

Five years ago, I was reading: The Wonder

Six years ago, I was reading: Occidental Mythology

October 28, 2021

Book 307: Princess Masako

“Here is an ambitious, intelligent woman who cannot bear the stifling constraints of life as a royal puppet; a woman from a family with a tradition of public service denied a real role in life; a woman with a Harvard education, a master of languages, who is denied meaningful discourse, and urged to amuse herself with pursuits such as the dissection of catfish or the study of medieval barges.”

Dates read: April 3-7, 2019

Rating: 4/10

One of my guilty pleasures is royal-watching. I spend more time than I should reading about/looking at pictures of the world’s royal families, analyzing their fashion choices, gazing longingly at their jewelry collections. It’s not that I covet their lives, though I do covet many of their wardrobes, and just putting a tiara on my head once would be one of the highlights of my life. I’ve read the comments on the royal Instagrams, I’ve seen how nasty people are about the women in these families. It’s just fun to imagine being one of them for a day, and then back to normal.

Though the British royal family sucks up most of the oxygen when it comes to coverage of royalty, it’s not the oldest one. Not by a long shot. The oldest is the Chrysanthemum Throne, the seat of the Japanese emperors. Naruhito currently occupies that role, with his wife Masako filling the role of Empress. But like the women married to the British princes, Masako Owada wasn’t born into nobility. She grew up in Russia, Japan, and the United States as the daughter of a diplomat. She herself even worked as a diplomat. But once she accepted then-Prince Naruhito’s marriage proposal, her entire world changed. Unfortunately, as Ben Hill’s Princess Masako explores, it hasn’t always been necessarily for the better.

Allegedly, Masako didn’t accept the first time Naruhito asked her to marry him. Nor even the second. She was smart enough to know that a life as the consort of the Crown Prince would require her to give up everything she’d earned for herself and accept a tightly circumscribed and entirely domestic role. It seems Naruhito promised her that they’d find a way to loosen restrictions and modernize, but those promises weren’t able to be kept. Cut off from her former life and under immense pressure to get pregnant, Masako seems to have become significantly depressed. When she finally did become a mother, she faced a fresh round of criticism for having given birth to a girl instead of a boy, as only men can inherit the throne. Prior to her elevation to Empress, Masako basically became a recluse, appearing in public very infrequently.

There’s a lot of (fairly educated) guesswork here, because sources about what Masako really thinks/feels aren’t exactly forthcoming. Japanese media culture does not reward the sort of tabloid speculation that sells papers in Europe, and perhaps that is why it seems like Hill’s sources were not as strong as one might have hoped. The people he talks to about Masako, who knew her before she became a princess, are either pretty far removed from their last contact with her or never knew her very well in the first place. A behind-the-scenes kind of book like this should feel rooted in firm reality with sources just remaining anonymous to protect themselves, but pretty much everything that’s supposed to be revealing in here feels like speculation.

There’s no sense of fun, either, which is half the point of picking up this sort of book. On the one hand, it’s hard to imagine how this story could be anything but tragic, but on the other hand, letting that sense of sadness pervade the book makes the gossip-y tone feel like rubbernecking at a car accident. I did learn more about the Imperial Household Agency, the courtiers that control the royal family, and got a bit more context on the relationship between the Japanese people and their royalty, and the way it’s changed in the post-WW2 era. But as a whole, the book never took off and I didn’t feel like I got much besides a straightforward account of the biographical details of Masako’s life. If you’re really into the Japanese royals, then you might find something worthwhile here, but don’t count on it for dishy intrigue. Otherwise, there’s no real reason to pick it up.

One year ago, I was reading: Looking for Alaska

Two years ago, I was reading: Patron Saints of Nothing

Three years ago, I was reading: Seduction

Four years ago, I was reading: The Book Thief

Five years ago, I was reading: The Confessions of St. Augustine

Six years ago, I was reading: Primitive Mythology

August 27, 2020

Book 248: My Own Words

“The institution we serve is ever so much more important than the particular individuals who compose the Court’s bench at any given time. And our job—the job of judging in a U.S. federal court generally—is, in my view, the best work a U.S. lawyer could wish for. We serve no client, our commission is to do what is right—what the law requires and what is just.”

Dates read: July 11-17, 2018

Rating: 7/10

Growing up, my role model (and let’s be honest, idol) was Sandra Day O’Connor. I wanted to be a lawyer and judge, and the first woman on the Supreme Court was the greatest person I could imagine. As I got older and better able to understand legal writing, she become a justice whose opinions I always appreciated reading, because in her fondness for balancing tests (while tricky to consistently administer) she seemed to always remember that while The Law is a mighty and important thing, it applies to actual people with actual lives and that is not less important than one’s judicial philosophy. She remains someone who I profoundly admire, along with the other women who’ve been appointed to the highest court in the land: Sonia Sotomayor, Elena Kagan, and everyone’s favorite pop culture icon Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

In the past several years, she’s had books written about her, a documentary and a biopic hit theaters, and been made into an action figure (which I have on my desk as I type). She’s become almost more of an idea than a person, which made My Own Words, a collection of her writings/speeches, organized with her co-writers Mary Hartnett and Wendy W. Williams, all the more relevant to read. There is an actual woman beneath the mythologizing, and that woman is whip-smart and has a lot of important things to say that can’t be slapped on a photo and turned into a meme. Not that I have any beef with that picture of her that says “all them fives need to listen when a ten is talking” in the Beyonce font, but in a world where complex thought is increasingly rare, we owe it to one of our best thinkers to really listen to what she has to say.

The book’s collection of her writings has examples all the way from pre-teen editorials submitted to the school paper to oral announcements of Supreme Court dissents. That she is a serious, thoughtful person is obvious even in the early writings, and examples of her work as she pushed for gender equity at the ACLU and then was elevated to the federal bench demonstrate her prodigious intellect and ability to distill arguments to their essence. But it’s not all ponderous and serious. There’s a written version of remarks about the role of lawyers in opera and an excerpt from the comic opera that was written about Justices Scalia and Ginsburg’s close personal friendship, which included trips to the opera, despite the gulf between their views on the law. There are a few pieces that were written/delivered by Gibsburg’s beloved husband Marty, whose wit made me giggle in few places.

The co-authors are apparently working on an authorized full biography of Justice Ginsburg, and the way they’ve worked with the material they have here gives me high hopes that it’ll be excellent. It can be challenging to edit down legal writing into something that can be understood by an audience not trained to read it, but between what’s clearly Ginsburg’s own facility with language and careful tweaks, the material will definitely require attention but isn’t difficult to understand. That it’s just relatively short vignettes may disappoint some who are looking for something more like a traditional biography, though there is interstitial writing to fill in the gaps and provide context. You do definitely get a sense of who she is through reading it, though. I’d highly recommend this for anyone who’s interested in the law, as well as any RBG enthusiasts.

One year ago, I was reading: Death Prefers Blondes

Two years ago, I was reading: Oryx and Crake

Three years ago, I was reading: The Idiot

Four years ago, I was reading: Inamorata

May 9, 2019

Book 180: The Royals

“There were no more seasoned actors than the British royal family. Like an old vaudeville troupe, they filed on stage to go through their practiced routines. Looking like rouged curiosities, they performed at weddings and funerals. In costume, they still drew a few regular spectators, but they lose their biggest crowds with the departure of their ingenue Princess. They knew that they were viewed best from afar; up close, their imperfections showed.”

Dates read: October 2-10, 2017

Rating: 6/10

I’ll admit it: when I went to London, one of the first things I wanted to see was Buckingham Palace and the Changing of the Guard. It feels a little un-American, given that the whole reason the USA is a thing was rebelling against the crown, but I love the British monarchy. If someone wore Saint Edward’s Crown, I want to know about them. The jewels, the castles, and the wide variety of people who have worn them/lived in them through the centuries is something I just can’t tear myself away from.

The family currently occupying the throne are the Windsors, and Kitty Kelley’s The Royals recounts their modern history. She starts with the changing of their name from Saxe-Coburg and Gotha to Windsor to downplay their Germanic origin in the World War I era, and traces the family through the divorces of Prince Charles and Prince Andrew (the book was originally published in the late 90s, shortly before the death of Diana, and while there is a bit of content added on to the later edition I had, the bulk of the material stops there). After some introductory material about the history of the House, she recounts it primarily by tracing the romances that have defined it: David and Wallis Simpson, Albert and Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, Elizabeth and Phillip, Margaret and Antony Armstrong-Jones, Charles and Diana, and Andrew and Fergie.

Kelley’s book lies somewhere between the tawdriness of an expose and glossiness of an official biography…she’s looking to tell a behind-the-scenes story to get to who the Windsors actually are, but mostly avoids being sensationalistic. Kelley highlights the steely reserve of the Queen Mother, who held on to her grudge against Wallis Simpson until the day the latter died, and how her deep opposition to divorce was internalized by her daughter and trapped many of the family members in marriages long past their expiration date (and prevented one marriage from occurring at all, in Margaret’s case). Queen Elizabeth II is shown to be both deeply devoted to her duty as monarch, and also as a woman who’s fundamentally introverted and struggles with social relationships, including parenthood. And while Phillip hasn’t always been faithful to his wife, he has always been loyal to The Firm, as he calls the royal family.

This is actually what interested me the most as I was reading the book…the line that the Windsors walk between being a family, with all the messiness that entails, and being an institution, which needs to show staying power and continue to have meaning in order to maintain relevance. The Queen can never just be a daughter, or sister, or mother, or wife…she is always the monarch and the figurehead of the Commonwealth. For some, like Princess Anne, who has famously inherited her father’s stubborn prickliness, this seems to have worked out just fine. But for Prince Charles, with his almost painful earnestness, it’s clear that a more traditionally middle-class/warmer household would have been better for him…I found myself feeling more sympathy for him than I would have expected after reading this book. He’s not either of his parents’ favorite (Phillip prefers Anne, while Elizabeth reportedly favors Andrew), and his obvious desire to be feel loved and be taken seriously is sad. Kelley doesn’t let him off the hook for the issues in his marriage to Diana (nor does she let Diana off the hook for her own contributions to the breakdown), but reading about his obvious lasting devotion to Camilla made me glad for him that they finally ended up married.

Like I said previously, I think Kitty Kelley does a pretty good job of including enough gossip to be dishy, but not going overboard and just printing every rumor she heard while doing research. Obviously the Windsors themselves may disagree, but she definitely paints portraits of them as people who are neither flawless example of nobility nor cartoon villains (well, later-in-life Margaret veers towards cartoon villainy but it doesn’t seem gratuitous, at any rate). At the end of the day, I found myself glad that the families I was both born into and married into are warm and loving and free from public scrutiny, even if that scrutiny does come with the castles and the jewels and all that. This book is sure to entertain those who enjoy reading about the British royal family, but won’t have much for those who aren’t already disposed to be interested. It’s long, but never feels like a slog.

Tell me, blog friends…do you know anyone who’s been raised in the public eye because of who their parents were?

One year ago, I was reading: Children of Blood and Bone

Two years ago, I was reading: Friday Night Lights

Three years ago, I was reading: The Witches of Eastwick

October 18, 2018

Book 151: The Man Without A Face

“Putin loved the Soviet Union, and he loved its KGB, and when he had power of his own, effectively running the financial system of the country’s second-largest city, he wanted to build a system just like them. It would be a closed system, a system built on total control—especially control over the flow of information and the flow of money. It would be a system that aimed to exclude dissent and would crush it if it appeared.”

Dates read: June 9-14, 2017

Rating: 7/10

There are two kinds of people, in my experience working in politics, who decide to run: people who genuinely care about people and want to be a part of the solution in helping the community run better, and people who like power. These aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, but there’s generally one that seems to be predominant. Thankfully, most of the people I’ve worked with are in the former rather than the latter category. As hard as it seems to believe in our currently climate of partisan enmity, the solid majority of politicians on both sides are in it because they’re trying to do good for their communities, states, and country.

It’s the other ones, the ones who are focused on power, who are hard to deal with at best and dangerous at worst. Perhaps the world’s most prominent power-oriented politician is President Vladimir Putin of Russia, and The Man Without A Face is Russian writer Masha Gessen’s look at how he rose and how he’s managed to stay on top. Russian interference with the 2016 presidential election has been and continues to be a very hot topic, so this book got bumped up on my reading list because I wanted some context for what’s going on in the world right now. It proved a very timely, very enlightening read.

Those looking for a straightforward biography of Putin will be disappointed. Although the details of Putin’s life, such that they are available, are discussed at significant length, the book is just as focused on explaining the Russia in which he came to power and how he’s worked to concentrate and hold that power ever since. The relative comfort in which Putin grew up, the disappointment of a boring posting to East Germany while with the KGB, his good fortune in finding himself attached to then-Mayor of St. Petersburg, Anatoly Sobchak, the way in which he was plucked from obscurity to succeed Boris Yeltsin by political handlers overconfident that he would be moldable clay…and his utter ruthlessness in completely destroying potential foes before they were able to gain any real momentum. All of that’s there, but Gessen provides important details about Russia’s political history to help understand how it was all able to be executed so effectively.

Speaking of executed…Gessen’s book doesn’t directly accuse Putin of having them carried out, but she draws damning connections between dissident activity that angered him and then sudden, untimely deaths due to very unlikely causes, like radioactive element poisoning. Documentary proof of this and other clandestine, illegal activity very likely doesn’t exist or is deeply buried, so she can’t present it to her readers. This is not surprising, but I didn’t get the sense that she was scare-mongering or making molehills into mountains. It seemed to me like she picked examples of politically motivated scare tactics/violence where the logical chain was clear, and I have to imagine that for every situation she presents, there are several sketchier ones that required larger conclusory leaps that were left untold. If you’re interested in Putin, or Russia, or autocrats, I’d definitely recommend this book. It’s worth your time.

Tell me, blog friends…do you think politicians are mostly good, or mostly bad?

One year ago, I was reading: Player Piano

Two years ago, I was reading: The Executioner’s Song

Three years ago, I was reading: Gilded

August 24, 2017

Book 91: The Professor and the Madman

“Defining words properly is a fine and peculiar craft. There are rules—a word (to take a noun as an example) must first be defined according to the class of things to which it belongs (mammal, quadruped), and then differentiated from other members of that class (bovine, female). There must be no words in the definition that are more complicated or less likely to be known than the word being defined. The definition must say what something is, and not what it is not.”

Dates read: September 19-22, 2016

Rating: 6/10

Awards/Lists: New York Times Bestseller

The term “mentally ill” gets tossed around all the time in political debates. Whether the mentally ill should be permitted to have access to guns, or how to deal with mental illness among homeless or incarcerated populations. Sometimes it feels like people forget how actually broad the term is: someone who’s mentally ill can be anorexic, or depressed, or have uncontrollable compulsions to wash their hands. One in five people will experience an episode of mental illness (usually related to depression or anxiety) throughout their lifetime. I personally have a history of major depressive disorder. To be mentally ill is so much more than being “crazy”, and no matter what form it takes, people who are mentally ill are first and foremost, well, people. It’s just one facet of who a person is.

Dr. W. C. Minor, whose story is at the center of Simon Winchester’s The Professor and The Madman, does have the kind of mental illness that most people think of when they hear the term. From the symptoms that are described in the book, he would most likely today be classified as a paranoid schizophrenic. An intelligent and sophisticated man, he was a surgeon and a member of the Union Army during the Civil War before he moved to the UK and his delusions of being tormented in his sleep led him to fatally shoot an innocent man. He was found not guilty by reason of insanity and committed to a British asylum for most of the rest of his life. But he didn’t stop being an educated man solely by virtue of his condition, and with his endless spare time he got himself involved in a one-of-a-kind project: the Oxford English Dictionary.

Winchester weaves together the tale of Dr. Minor and the history of dictionaries leading up to the creation of the OED. English is a language quite different than many of the other European ones in the way it has grown explosively and liberally borrowed from others, and for quite a long time there was no real attempt to catalog it: a few volumes that sought to define the most unusual words existed, but an actual dictionary of ALL the words with ALL their meanings didn’t really happen until the OED. It took decades of work and thousands of volunteers to develop the dictionary, and Minor’s contribution thereto was significant indeed…enough to merit a dedication in the finished product even.

Dr. Minor was seriously ill and a criminal at that, but we should know by now that these things do not per se mean that someone is incapable of being a productive member of society. That being said, there is a shock value there: we don’t usually think of murderers as the kind of people who wind up knee-deep in dictionary development. Winchester chooses to emphasize Minor’s humanity rather than sensationalize his crime, taking us through his life as the son of missionaries in Sri Lanka (there’s an odd bit of colonialism where Winchester is weirdly attached to the British name of Ceylon) through the horrors he would have seen as a medical professional in the Civil War and his subsequent mental decline, leading down to his crime and its punishment, and then wrapping up with his long years in institutional care. Even though because of the time in history, that care consisted mostly of a relatively gentle confinement rather than actual treatment, it still should be enough to remind us that there are probably plenty of people in jail or psychiatric hospitals today who do have something to offer the world.

The book itself is solid but not really exceptional in any way. It’s an interesting story and well-told, but it wasn’t an especially memorable or special read. For non-fiction readers or people interested in dictionary development, it’s definitely a good choice, but I don’t know that I’d recommend going out of one’s way to read it if this sort of thing doesn’t usually do it for you.

Tell me, blog friends…how often do you use the dictionary?

One year ago today, I was reading: Yesternight

June 1, 2017

Book 79: Will Bill Donovan

“Colorful stories about ‘Wild Bill’ became chitchat fare at Washington parties. To show off what his unit could do, he had agents steal secret documents from the office of an admiral he was having drinks with at one social event, then bring the papers to him to give them to the astounded officer before the party broke up.”

Dates read: August 15-20, 2016

Rating: 3/10

One TV show I keep meaning to watch (but haven’t gotten to yet) is The Americans. The story of Russian spies living undercover in the US during the days of the Cold War, it’s supposed to be amazing. Spy stories have a natural appeal: the constant tension of trying to discover without being discovered is inherently compelling. Gadgets, cloak-and-dagger mechanations, disguises and false identities, double and triple crosses…it’s ready made drama for screens big and small.

Reality, of course, is always less glamorous, and Douglas C. Waller’s Wild Bill Donovan tells the story of America’s first real spymaster. Bill Donovan headed up the Office of Strategic Services, the precursor body for the Central Intelligence Agency. The book bills itself as a biography, but that’s not strictly true…it’s as much a story about the OSS as it is about Donovan himself. A Medal of Honor and Purple Heart winner for his military service in World War I, the Republican Donovan was tapped by Democratic President Franklin D. Roosevelt as the Coordinator Of Information in the buildup to World War II to make sure that the various military intelligence services and the FBI were sharing information. Eventually Donovan expanded that role into his own agency, the OSS, that engaged in espionage and spy missions across Europe and Asia during the war years. It was briefly shuttered after the war, but a proposal Donovan had made beforehand to keep it running afterwards as the Cold War loomed eventually resulted in the CIA, which Donovan (much to his displeasure) was not chosen to run.

As you can tell by the low rating, I had significant issues with the book. I’m not all that into spy stories on the page (although I do enjoy them on the screen), and a large portion of the book deals with the spy missions that made up the early days of the OSS. It recounts these missions in what I found to be tedious detail, including agents and their code names and intricate ins-and-outs of how specific missions played out without there ever being much payoff for that kind of information dump. What I was interested in reading was a biography of a person, which only showed up at the beginning and the end. We get through Donovan’s first 50 or so years (including a pretty scandalous social life that saw him marry a socialite above his class only to be relentlessly unfaithful…so much so he was accused of having an affair with his own daughter in law!) in about 60 pages. There are some intriguing tidbits about his longtime feud with J. Edgar Hoover, but it’s never developed. Then there’s the endless boring espionage stuff, and finally we get more insight into Donovan’s actual life after the OSS is disbanded, which focused mainly on a final diplomatic posting and then decline into dementia. Through it all, I never got a sense of an actual person. He’s constantly described as charismatic and dashing, and while there’s definitely a sense of a dynamic person created, I don’t feel like I know anything about who Bill Donovan was as a human being. If you have any interest in an actual biography of the man, this is a pass. If you’re interested in espionage during World War II, though, you will probably enjoy this book more than I did.

Tell me, blog friends…what’s your favorite spy show or movie?

One year ago, I was reading: Spinster

February 25, 2016

Book 13: The Creation of Anne Boleyn

“Why is Anne Boleyn so fascinating? Maybe we don’t have to go any further than the obvious: The story of her rise and fall is an elementally satisfying- and scriptwise, not very different from- a Lifetime movie: a long-suffering, postmenopausal wife; an unfaithful husband and a clandestine affair with a younger, sexier woman; a moment of glory for the mistress; then lust turned to loathing, plotting, and murder as the cycle comes full circle.”

Dates read: December 29, 2015- January 2, 2016

Rating: 9/10

Divorced, beheaded, died; divorced, beheaded, survived. It’s how you remember what became of the six wives of Henry XIII. That there’s even a way to help you remember the love life of a monarch whose reign is 500 years in the past speaks to the enduring cultural relevancy of Henry and his wives. And if you were to ask someone off the street to name you just one of them, I’d put my money on it that they’d name Anne Boleyn. Witch, feminist before her time, seductress, all of the above and more….a lot of people have a lot of opinions about Anne, who she was, and what she did. But who was the “real” Anne Boleyn, and why do we still care?

Susan Bordo is a popular culture/gender studies academic, and brings a welcome level of inquiry, research, and critical thought to her examination of the legends that surround Anne Boleyn. Nearly all of Anne’s personal correspondence and even official portraiture were destroyed by Henry in the aftermath of her death, so we have to rely almost entirely on secondhand accounts (many of them hostile, like Spanish ambassador Eustace Chapuys) to know much of anything about her at all. This has created a narrative with substantial gaps, which can only be filled by conjecture.

The book begins with a walkthrough of what we do and can know with relative certainty about Anne (what she probably looked like, her upbringing in the French court, her move to England and courtship with Henry, her proto-Protestant religious beliefs, her short reign, and the circumstances of her death). It then examines the myths that have sprung up around her, and how they’ve varied over time. Bordo’s research pops up interesting facts, like that the “Anne as headstrong teenager” strain of Anne’s mythology only pops up after World War 2, when the concept of teenager-hood was just becoming a thing and audiences were primed by wartime media to be ready for plucky heroines.

Bordo is displeased with the popular historical fiction surrounding Anne, and she rakes it over the coals pretty hard. Phillipa Gregory gets an especially high dose of her ire, to an extent which I actually feel is unfair. Gregory has never pretended to be writing scholarly, academic history, and while there are definitely people who probably look at her books and think they’re reading something that’s been heavily researched for historical accuracy, I have to imagine that most of us understand that she’s using outlines of the actual people who were her characters and taking pretty heavy dramatic license with the rest. It’s not Gregory’s “fault”, per se, that her book became enormously popular and is probably most people’s go-to reference for Anne Boleyn. Some of her statements imply that she does hold herself out as somewhat of an authority in the era, but at the end of the day, there’s a reason her books are filed in the fiction section. Then again, I own and enjoy many of Gregory’s books, so maybe I’m just defensive.

At the end of the day, if you have an interest in Anne Boleyn that was sparked by the dreaded The Other Boleyn Girl, or Natalie Dormer’s incredible portrayal on The Tudors, or Wolf Hall, or anything at all, really, you’ll enjoy this book. It’s accessible, well-researched, and put together in a way that makes for a really enjoyable reading experience!

Tell me, blog friends…do you have a favorite historical figure to read about?

Note: Review cross-posted at Cannonball Read

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