Sarah Palin's memoir officially has landed, and the American carnival continues. Going Rogue made the best-seller lists even before it appeared in book stores. The author's gig on Oprah Winfrey's TV show sealed the deal. Celebrity devours all.
Partisans love Rogue or hate it, and likely reached their conclusions before they read it all the way through. The passions make reviews almost pointless. The Washington Post greeted publication with dueling critiques -- one from the left, the other from the right. A cliché count places the critics in a tie. Newsweek contributed a cover that redounds to the magazine's abiding discredit.
The United States does not boast a tradition of politicians with literary ambitions or, to be precise, with talent. The exceptions are few. Theodore Roosevelt wrote with flair. U.S. Grant's memoirs are a masterpiece of concision and rank among the military classics. Among recent presidents, only Richard Nixon has composed reflections worthy of serious study. Daniel Patrick Moynihan contributed important books and essays on public policy. Jim Webb earned his authorial stripes before he ran for office. Eugene McCarthy had a nice touch. We started the late Edward Kennedy's memoir and rather liked the opening chapters but put it down several weeks ago and have not picked it up and have not suffered. It may be significant that the greatest autobiography with political currents was not written by a practitioner. Is The Education of Henry Adams taught in schools?
A footnote closes this exercise: John Fleming's The Anti-Communist Manifestos examines four books of import in the past century's middle years. Indeed, the century cannot be understood without reading them. A professor of medieval literature, Fleming treats the books not only as political and social tracts but as art. Arthur Koestler's Darkness at Noon, Jan Valtin's Out of the Night, Victor Kravchenko's I Chose Freedom, and Whittaker Chambers' Witness define blockbuster as it ought to be defined.
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