I was fortunate to stumble upon this book on Amazon.com. As a musician, it looked intriguing. I bought it and became immediately engrossed. I enjoyed the compelling introduction by Adam Krims. After reading that, I had to continue with the rest of the book. It has a fantastic compilation of essays by a wide variety of authors. As a woman, and an artist, many of these essays were valuable and meaningful to me. Never before have I seen a book that so clearly demonstrates how music ties into the broader conerns within the humanities. I highly recommend it.

This great book has been translated into German and French but has never yet been published in English for general sale. The facsimile edition offered here is excellent and amounts to a rare book. The reasons for the book's excellence are Adams's abilities as a historian, his personal interest in Tahiti (he was himself a Tahitian great chief by adoption), and his timely access to evidence and testimony, especially testimony, while it could still be had.

This is an excellant text to begin with when starting to understand psychopathology from a research-based orientation. The chapters are well organized and formulated around the most recent research to provide the reader with sufficient information to decern distinct pathologies within the DSM-IV format. Each chapter provides information for the etiology, psychological/biological (neurological/genetic)foundations of the disorder, and treatment information. Most importantly, the text revolves around the research and is impartial to the theoretical orientations that often confuse the issues.

This book is, obviously, a little on the "pricey" side, but I look at it this way; a purchase like this is an investment in your career.

As a graduate student about to enter the field, I have found this book to be an invaluable supplement I use for reference for my other courses. The writing is accessible, research-based, and well organized.

This volume is the second of a projected four volume anthology of Twentieth Century American Poetry in the Library of America series. American poetry richly deserves this extensive treatment, and this series may serve to introduce America's poets to a growing number of readers.

This volume begins with E.E.Cummings (born 1894) and concludes with May Swenson (born 1913) The volume has almost an embarrassment of riches. By my count there are 122 separate poets included. The book includes a brief biography of each writer included which is invaluable for reading the book.

As with any anthology of this nature,the selection is a compromise between inclusiveness and quality. Readers may quarrel with the relative weight given to various poets in terms of number of pages, and with the inclusion or exclusion of writers. (I was disappointed that a poet I admire, Horace Gregory, gets only two pages, for example). Overall, it is a wonderful volume and includes some greatpoetry.

There are favorites and familiar names here and names that will be familiar to few. A joy of a book such as this is to see favorites and to learn about poets one hasn't read before.

A major feature of this volume is its emphasis on diversity -- much more so than in volume 1 or in the Library of America's 19th century poetry anthologies. There are many Jewish poets (including Reznikoff, a favorite ofmine, Zukofsky, Alter Brody, Rose Drachler, George Oppen, Karl Shapiro, and others) and even more African-American Poets (Lanston Hughes, Countee Cullen, Richard Wright, Waring Cuney, Sterling Brown, Arna Bontemps, Robert Hayden and many more.) There are also selections from blues and popular songs which to me is overdone.

Of the poets unknown to me, I enjoyed particularly Lorine Niedecker, Laura Riding, and Janet Lewis -- women are well represented in this volume.

I have taken the title of this review from the Cape Hatteras section of "The Bridge" by Hart Crane.(page 229) Crane has more pages devoted to him than any other writer in the volume and deservedly so. "The Bridge" and "Voyages" are presented complete together with some of the shorter poems. This tragic, tormented and gifted writer tried in The Bridge to present a vision of America mystical in character, celebratory of the merican experience, and inclusive in its diversity. The poem is a worthy successor to the poetry of Whitman who is celebrated in it. The title of the review,I think, captures both Crane's poem as well as the goal of the volume as a whole in capturing something of the diversity of experience reflected in 20th Century American Verse.

Although not widely read and appreciated, American poetry underwent a renaissance in the Twentieth Century. At some point, readers will look back at our Twentieth Century poetry as a benchmark of literature and a guide to the thoughts, feelings, and events of our difficult century.

In this, the first of four projected volumes covering the Twentieth Century, the Library of America gives access to a treausre of reading, moving, elevating, and disturbing. The book consists of readings from 85 (by my count) poets. The poets, are arranged chronologically by the poet's birthday. The earliest writer in the volume is Henry Adams (born 1838) and the concluding writer is Dorothy Parker (born 1893). Some writers that flourished later in life, such as Wallace Stevens, thus appear in the volume before works of their peers, such as Pound and Elliot, who became famous earlier.

For me, the major poets in the volume are (not surprising choices here), Robert Frost, Wallace Stevens, W.C. Williams, Ezra Pound, T.S. Elliot, Marianne Moore. They are represented by generous selections,including Elliot's Waste Land, Steven's Notes Towards a Supreme Fiction, and several Pound Canto's given in their entirety.

It is the mark of a great literary period that there are many writers almost equally meriting attention together with the great names. There are many outstanding writers here, some known, some unknown. To name only a few, I would includeE.A Robinson, James Weldon Johnson, Adelaide Crapsey, Vachel Lindsay, Sara Teasdale, H.D. Robinson Jeffers, John Crowe Ransom, Conrad Aiken, Samuel Greenberg. It would be easy to go on.

There are different ways to read an anthology such as this. One way is to browse reading poems as they catch the reader's eye. Another way is to read favorite poems the reader already knows.

I would suggest making the effort to read the volume through from cover to cover. Before beginning the paricular poet, I would suggest reading the biographical summary at the end of the volume. These are short but excellent and illuminate the authors and the poetry. The notes are sparse, but foreign terms in Pound and Elliot's poetry are translated, and we have selections from Elliot's and Marianne Moore's own notes.

By reading the volume through,one gets a sense of continuity and context. Then, the reader can devote attention to individual poems. Some twentieth century works, such as those by Pound, Elliott,Moore Stevens are notoriously difficult. Read the works through,if you are coming to them for the first time, and return to them later.

I was familiar with many of the poems in the book before reading the anthology but much was new to me. I learned a great deal. My favorite poet remains Wallace Stevens, partly because he comibined the life of a man of affairs, as an attorney and insurance executive, with deep art. This remains an ideal for me. It is true as well for W.C. Williams, although I am less fond of his poetry.

The title to this review is taken from "Libretto" by Ezra Pound,
(page 371). It is the best single sentence summation I can think of for the contents of this volume.

The real job of the anthologist is not, of course, to assemble anthologies but to anger and annoy readers. Only census takers have more doors slammed in their innocent faces. That said, a few words in defense of this excellent volume. Yes, there's plenty of second-tier or third-tier verse here, and those in search of pure poetry (no rocks, no soda, shaken not stirred) should probably save their pennies and buy the LOA volumes devoted to Frost, Stevens, etc etc. But a book like this one does give a splendid sense of cultural context. Sometimes the giants loom only larger when they're stuck in a line-up with their diminutive peers. And some of those lesser lights are actually quite talented, too. So unless you're truly fixated on iambic quality control, you should find much to love, and even more to like, in the capacious and paper-thin pages of APTTCV1.

Wow, for once I find myself agreeing with Ian Fletcher - really great job, Michael. Every neighborhood should have a book like this - but only Harlem does! And, Michael, you're too sensitive about 1-800-Riverside - he/she made some reasonably fair criticisms - who among us are without sin? - but still endorses your book.

Hope you make a $million (Gianfranco Monacelli, are you listening?) - or at least enough for a computer.

Best, Christopher Gray

This great book comes forward to change forever our view of Harlem. It is a highly significant step toward informed appreciation of Harlem's architectural importance, cultural complexity, and the abundant variety and beauty of its singular places. No publication at this scale has yet been attempted for Harlem and the grand scope and close detail brought together here by this talented historian will raise the intelligence of the national sense of this unique cultural center never before served so well. Harlem is a household word -- across the globe -- and many may have felt that "our country's African American center" or "jazz incubator" or "home of black Congressional leadership" or some such positive phrase sums it up. Here is presentation of the whole, its place in shaping our revolutionary republic, its welcome to those arriving first from Europe, then from southern states as well as the Caribbean Islands, its heritage of architecturally glorious churches, its handsome houses -- and the innate preservationist sensitivity of each wave of residents who have kept this heritage of fine architecture so largely intact. The book presents these churches and houses through the superlative photographic studies contributed by Paul Rocheleau which bring the reader right into the sites so brilliantly described by Michael Adams. This fine collaboration opens eyes to the deeper meaning of carefully designed housing itself as well as how these churches stand witness to the care of their parishioners. Those viewing these pages far from Harlem will feel on site; those here will want to walk these streets with newly opened eyes. The book is a lifetime purchase and is itself one of the most significant Harlem events in years.

Paul Rocheleau urged me not to worry about what I wrote stressing, "Most people only look at the pictures anyhow." Taking over ten years to research and write something, how tiresome it is to then be compelled to defend it. One is reluctant to do much beyond urging those who might disagree with what you've said to take a decade or two themselves and write their own work. After all no matter what one does or doesn't do the inadvertent error is sure to emerge. This was so for Galsworthy and for Langston Hughes. It will be for you as well. The Riviera Apartments, for instance, were designed by Rouse & Goldstone, not Schwartz & Gross. Mr. Charles Lovejoy is in fact Mr. Charles Loveday, and so it goes. It appears that Harlem Lost and Found will warrant a second printing at least, so thank goodness these mistakes and similar ones can be addressed.

What cannot be altered, however, is my understanding of Harlem's boundaries. Quite justifiably, I believe they can be identified as extending as far north as 168th St. "Not For Tourists Guide to New York City 2003", sponsored by JPMorgan Chase Community Development Group, at least agrees to this hallowed region extending north as far as 160th St. Well, actually, they call the region south to 134th St. between Bradhurst Ave. and the Hudson River 'Manhattanville/Hamilton Heights'. However, surely these neighborhoods are agreed to be in Harlem, are they not?

Unashamedly, I concede that my book was driven by handsome buildings. But, throughout its publication from circa 1910 through 1934, Harlem Magazine, an all white journal, included the very same structures that I have located north of 155th St. in its pages. Things do change, of course. Attempting to dissect Harlem into a series of hierarchically class-based districts, many, by the 1890s, designated all Manhattan west of St. Nicholas Ave. and north of 135th St. as 'Washington Heights'. Already by the 1860s the appellation was used from 155th St. north. But this initial usage much like that of 'Carmansville' was meant, I believe, to identify a subsection of greater Harlem. Certainly, the Audubon, Knapp, and Hooper families continued to identify their address as Harlem much as today many residents of the officially named 'Clinton' continue to give their address as 'Hell's Kitchen'.

In any case, perhaps the old-fashioned but unfashionable race card trumps other considerations? Asked in the 1950s by Joe McCarthy where he lived, Ralph Ellison said 150th St. and Riverside Drive. He qualified his answer, though, noting that the area had once been regarded as 'Washington Heights'. But stated that from his experience, "Wherever Negroes live uptown is considered Harlem." Surely this is the logic whereby the Audubon Ballroom and Theater, where Malcolm X was slain in 1965, was and continues to be identified as a Harlem landmark. No doubt, as more whites displace more blacks and Latinos throughout Upper Manhattan, Brian Keith Jackson's satirical references to name changes in the novel "The Queen of Harlem" will, in fact, occur more and more. It's this likelihood that makes me even more adamantly compelled to document the old understanding amongst blacks and many whites of what is Harlem.

How easy it is to regret what one has not done. If only I had a computer I might have addressed these issues earlier. If only I were more prosperous, I might have also included footnotes in Harlem Lost and Found and saved myself some grief. But as an author under contract to a small press it was difficult enough to pay for an index, I can assure you. As it was so dear, I especially wish the mystery reviewer at 800 RSD had consulted it. I reference Vaux & Withers twice. Once in relation to their Trinity Cemetery suspension bridge. Another time based on Francis R. Kowsky's 1980 monograph of Withers (Wesleyan University Press), on page 196, in the appended work list, I cite the George B. Grinnell house and stable on West 156th and 157th Sts. entered for 1869 and 1870. At no time, regarding this firm, do I ever mention either Mrs. John James Audubon or her dwelling.

As for my attribution of Audubon Park's ownership by George Bird Grinnell, on page 21 of the pamphlet "Audubon Park" published by the Hispanic Society in America in 1927 and reissued in 1987, a later George B. Grinnell relates of his relative, "Long before this, the greater portion of what had been Audubon Park, that is to say, all of it except the track where the old Audubon houses stand had become the property of a single owner, George B. Grinnell, from whose estate, in 1909, a large part of it passed into the hands of builders who covered much of it with tall apartment houses."

Similarly, so far as Jesse W. Benedict's earlier ownership of the park after 1864 goes, no less an historian than Audubon Park's own Reginald Pelham Bolton in his great book "Washington Heights, Manhattan, Its Eventful Past" asserts the same on page 111.

Regarding record sale prices at the Grinnell, the New York Times, it's true, might inflate values, but can I really be faulted for believing all the news that's fit to print?

Yes, indeed, whatever else it is, thanks mostly to Paul Rocheleau and designer Abigail Sturges, Harlem Lost and Found is a visual feast. Whatever its shortcomings, I hope that it is better written and researched than one critic suggests. Better than ever, I now appreciate the aphorism 'Some do, and others complain'. And anonymously, no less. Well, what can one say except God Bless America.

May be a good starting point....The United States in 1800 by Henry Adams. First Six Chapters of Vol.1

Adams' work here ranks with Macaulay and Carlyle in terms of telling an intricate history through the private letters and conversations of the players involved. From the first pages where he describes the America over which Jefferson presided, Adams clearly defines idealogies and principles as they were defended and practiced by the Federalists and Republicans of the day. Throughout Jefferson's two terms, the president was forced to abandon favorite principles and to defend others that were ulimately (if not immediately) untenable. Through skillful hands we watch how moods changed and policies switched, and how the main characters attempted to reconcile their inconsistencies. Jefferson hoped to expose the wrongfulness of Federalist policies, yet wound up forwarding the same tenets in his management. The President who rose to such a height of popularity and power left the office as disgraced and as generally disliked as any Chief Executive before or after. A masterful work about eight important and formative years in the early republic.

Even though it was written in the 1880s, this is the best history of early American diplomacy yet written. It is important to mention that this is primarily a diplomatic history, and it certainly reflects the author's interest and family history in foreign affairs. Adams has meticulously researched all matters of State and diplomacy, but he has reserved the topics of culture, economics, and education for far more subjective analysis. It becomes obvious early in the text that Adams is highly deferential to Great Britain, and the young American republic is constantly compared and trivialized, in contrapuntal regularity, against the great European powers. Adams has a lot to say about America's poverty, provincialism, and anti-intellectualism when compared to England, France, and Russia. American culture cringe pervades the text. While frequently accurate, he drives the point to excess: America becomes somewhat of a play-thing for the imperial ambitions of Europe. We're treated to page after page of material on the British ambassadors. In short, this is probably the kind of American history we would have expected Henry James and T. S. Eliot to have read, the kind that gets all the facts and dates right but can't conceal the author's sincere desire to be English.

This book (which began life as a dissertation) will very much interest women's history buffs and students of American literature but is less likely to please physicians or students of abnormal psychology. Clover Hooper comes out of a Boston family almost as intriguing as that of the Adams. She is one of Henry James' ideal American girls, and might have become James' wife had he been inclined to marry. She maintained a glittering establishment while Henry Adams was in Washington, and many of her points of view are reflected in The Education of Henry Adams. Clover's father was her closest intellectual companion and when (in her mid-30s) he died, she fell into depression and within a few months had committed suicide. The Education of Mrs. Henry Adams was published in the late 1970s and includes as complete a bibliography, to that time, as one could wish, including a reference to Susan Phinney Conrad's witty Perish the Thought: Intellectual Women in Romantic America, 1830-1860.

The book is not intellectually deep, but is most enjoyable. It provides a view of a small American elite representing a transitional society between the late Civil War and early 19th century. It centers on five diverse people who, by chance, formed a unizue Washington social and intellectual salon mostly centering on themselves, but benefitting from each member's extensive contacts in the U.S. and France (to a lesser extent). The five were Henry Adams (descendant of two Presidents), his wife, Clover, John Hay (Secretary to Lincoln and Sec of State at the turn of the century), his wife, and Clarence King, the firs head of the U.S. Geological survey.

Adams and Hay built large homes on the north of Layafette Square which became the center of the salon (the sites are occupied by the Hay Adams Hotel).

The focus is on the personalities and interests of these unique characters, the depiction of life at the heart of our capitol, and references to art and architecture integral to Washington of that era, but which led to a broader influence along the east coast particularly. In a very concrete setting, the author deals with love, tragedy, and the political and intellectual curiosit which dominated these people's lives. None has really survived in the public consciousness, but all played significant roles in their time and deserve this interest in what made their lives.

Dear Stefi, Now that there is a slight lull in the happy Chestertown merry-go-round, I want to write a paragraph or two explaining why is one of the most interesting books I have ever read. This is why it is so interesting: It was written about 1906 and covers U.S. intellectual and political history from about 1860 to 1906. What is clever about it is the cynical, humorous sophistication (very unAmerican) with which he, an insider, regards all of these events. The book, like Montaigne or Rousseau's is an autobiography and, like Montaigne, Adams is of the view that life should above all be amusing, so that any great enterprise should be undertaken only if it is indeed amusing. The driving idea of the book, however, is where to find the truth (you guessed it--he is still searching on the last page). The places where he searches are very intriguing. He begins at Harvard, where, says he, he learned nothing from books and only one thing from the classes: how to get up and talk in front of large crowds of people about nothing. He was required to do this routinely, and his speeches were, like everyone else's, greeted with hissing and criticisms, so he learned not to expect approbation from an audience. Adams got heavily into the debate about evolution (Darwin being the hot topic at the end of the nineteenth century), because he thought it was the main amusement of his era. His position on evolution is "reversion" rather than progress. One of his proofs is a comparison of George Washington and Ulysses S. Grant. He admired Washington (a great general who became a great president); he voted for Grant (a great general). He knew personally the members of Grant's cabinet, thieves or incompetents at best. QED: things are getting worse not better. In his old age (sixty), after many other amusements of a busy lifetime, he decided to do what I did at the age of twenty-two: to visit all the important medieval French cathedrals. (In 1958, I bought a car in Saarbrucken--VW bug--and drove to seventeen of the greatest cathedrals, Guide Michelin in hand, staying at the youth hostels.) His book is peppered with well-digested quotations from French literature; he apparently knew it from top to bottom. His goal was to understand the Middle Ages (unity in the Virgin) and to write two books, one about the unity of the Middle Ages (title: ) and another about the diversity of the twentieth century, . Adam's book has a number of difficult spots (confusing original philosophy and historical references that mean something only to the well-informed historian), but the good parts are worth going on to find. I hope this vignette will persuade you to get through the boring chapters at the beginning of the book on his childhood in Quincy. The narrative becomes interesting only with his stories about the Court of Saint James where he spent his early twenties as a diplomat during the U.S. Civil War. From that point on, I think you will love it as much as I did. Cheers! Claire

Henry Adams starts off his autobiography with a description of how tough he's had it living up to the standard of his president great-grandfather, president grandfather, and ambassador to the UK father. Lest the reader who was not born so high-brow as this laugh at the self-absorption that would permit such an upbringing to be conceived of as deprived, Adams then admits that being born with a silver spoon in one's mouth to coincide with such a lineage makes his a minor difficulty compared to the world's real problems. It is this self-awareness and honesty that makes this as excellent a book as it is. Sure, Adams had to live up to a high standard but he also was in a situation where it was possible to do it, and where even failure would be in comfort. Adams' descriptions of his life's longing for education are remarkably honest throughout, and his ability to step outside of the 'holy writ' of entrenched teachings shows that his was a mind that constantly sought answers actually worth their merit. He waxes philosophical (as opposed to autobiographical) at the end, but it is here ("The Virgin and the Dynamo," for example) that he may be at his most profound. Even if you don't agree with his thoughts, he does stimulate consideration of ideas that you may not have previously broached. Lastly, Henry Adams is/was a profoundly arrogant man, although not entirely condescending. I find this refreshing; that he knew his abilities and was comfortable enough in them to not feel the need to fake humility.

The title of "The Education of Henry Adams" sounds like an autobiography, but the book is really about the development of a man's conscience and theory of human history, using the world events of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries as a backdrop and a laboratory. Henry Adams -- whose great grandfather was John Adams, the second American President, and whose grandfather obviously was John Quincy Adams, the sixth -- is more than just a presidential legacy; he reveals himself to be a great thinker and writer, the brilliance of his "Education" ensuring him a permanent place in the American canon.

The book has a few attributes that distinguish it from a typical autobiography. The most noticeable is that Adams writes in the third, not first, person. He repeats the word "education" like a mantra throughout the book, referring to it in its literal, not formal, sense: the "bringing up", or development, of a person's mind, manner, and outlook. The narrative is very personal and is not, as some may expect, a rigid historical perspective, although it does offer plenty of commentary on contemporary historical and political events, from the Civil War to two presidential assassinations (Lincoln's and McKinley's, but not Garfield's) to the Industrial Revolution's impact on the American commercial landscape.

Adams writes like a novelist, and this book reads like a novel. His lyrical prose is all the more amazing because it seems like a product of the very education he finds so evasive. Growing up in Quincy, Massachussetts, he hated school; he even confesses that he got little to nothing out of his years at Harvard. Always hopeful to be educated by new experiences, he serves as a secretary to his father, an ambassador, in London during the American Civil War, where he learns about diplomacy from high-ranking British politicians. He proceeds to dabble in various arts and sciences, start a career in journalism, and become an instructor at Harvard, noting the irony of teaching while still searching for his own education.

Throughout the book we get a very vivid picture of Adams as an idiosyncratic mixture of humanism, modesty, shyness, erudition, and a polite sort of cynicism. He has a rather socratic tendency to dismiss all the previous knowledge he has collected as worthless for his continuing education, resolving to start from scratch with a new source. A curious omission in the book is the twenty-year period in which his marriage ends with his wife's suicide; perhaps this event was just too painful to write about, because it's difficult to believe that this experience could not have influenced the pursuit of his education.

If Adams's education can be said to have a culmination, it is in his development of a "dynamic theory of history," in which he compares physical forces (gravity, magnetism) acting on a body to historical forces, produced by the conflict of the sciences ("The Dynamo") against the arts ("The Virgin"), acting on man. With this initiative Adams embodies the nineteenth century American intellectual and political conscience: He proves in this book that he was a greatly informed man, but also that he was wise because he understood the difference between information and wisdom.

...Which pave the road to mediocrity, a writer's hell. Though it isn't terrible, "Democracy" is little more than a could-have-been in all respects. It has interesting ideas and competent writing, so the potential was there. The problem, as is so often the case, is in the novel's execution.

The idea that power corrupts is an old one, and it is obviously the main point of Henry Adams' novel. His intention seems to be to portray the lengths to which those in power will go to acquire more power, and how the lust for power is certain to deaden one's sense of morality. Unfortunately, Adams would have done better to write an essay on the subject rather than attempt to weave it into a fictional novel, for the author waxes too moralistic on his theme, rather than stepping back and allowing the characters to make his point for him. This does more harm than simply annoying the reader with value judgments; the story itself becomes so transparent and predictable, that it seems a mere vehicle for what soon becomes a tiresome refrain.

Perhaps this is why the characters are so lamentably flat. The descriptions Adams writes for each character seem to foreshadow complexity and development, but this soon is proven to be a false impression. Interesting as the characters might have been from their descriptions, when push comes to shove and the story continues, they remain utterly devoid of personality. Ironically, the main characters, Madeleine and Ratcliffe, are probably the most thinly developed of the entire bunch; the supporting cast is slightly more interesting, but not by much.

Another annoyance is the implausible thinking and actions of so many of the characters; for Madeleine to contemplate marrying Ratcliffe for her sister's sake is simply ridiculous. The fact that she considers her life at an end at age thirty is equally implausible, as is Sybil's attitude of careless youth at age twenty-five: in the nineteenth century, any woman of that age who was yet unmarried would have been considered an old maid, yet that is never even hinted at.

Perhaps the worst of it all was the pacing: this 300+ page book could have EASILY been half its size. It drags along without character development and without even any plot development. Worse yet, the book is centered entirely around politics, yet Adams seems hazy as to the details of those politics. Perhaps Madeleine learned a lot about American politics from her stay in Washington, but very little of this is shared with the reader. As such, the book does not even have an interesting setting to recommend itself.

In the end, it is obvious what Adams was trying to say, but by making Madeleine so careless with regard to Ratcliffe, the author fails utterly. With no temptation, there can be no sacrifice. It is unclear why the reader is expected to admire Madeleine, yet this expectation is clear enough.

To sum up...for a book about government corruption, look elsewhere. There must be something out there better than this. Anything.

"Democracy" is what "Primary Colors" would have been if the latter had been well-written. Like Joe Klein, Adams published his book anonymously and skewered a number of contemporary politicians (including President Rutherford B. Hayes). But Adams goes two steps further: his novel is a scathing commentary more on the American political system in general than on one administration in particular, and his characters are iconic and recognizable in any era.

In "Democracy," the nation's capital "swarms with simple-minded exhibitions of human nature; men and women curiously out of place, whom it would be cruel to ridicule and ridiculous to weep over." But Adams is not hesitant about being cruel in his portrayal of Washington's residents, and he saves his weeping for the true victims in his novel: the American people. The typical American senator combines "the utmost pragmatical self-assurance and overbearing temper with the narrowest education and meanest personal experience that ever existed in any considerable government." (Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose!)

The story concerns Madeleine Lee, an intelligent and well-meaning (if somewhat naive) New York widow, who, bored with her cosmopolitan lifestyle, travels to Washington to learn what makes the nation tick. She and her sister are quickly surrounded by a diverse group of politicians, lobbyists, and foreign diplomats, and she finds herself courted by Silas Ratcliffe, a senator with presidential aspirations whose talent "consisted in the skill with which he evaded questions of principle." During one heated (and humorous) argument about George Washington's merits, Ratcliffe sums up his view of politics: "If virtue won't answer our purpose, then we must use vice, or our opponents will put us out of office."

Adams's prose is almost Jamesian in its measured pacing (and this may simply bore some readers); the initial chapters are unhurried as he weaves the web of the plot and sketches his all-too-believable characters. Along the way he tosses barbed zingers at every target. The climactic passages are among the most comically riveting, emotionally intense, and morally satisfying finales I've read in a satire: as you might expect, nobody gets exactly what they want, but everyone gets what they deserve.

To act with entire honesty and self-respect, one should always live in a pure atmosphere, and the atmosphere of politics is impure. -Senator Silas Ratcliffe, Democracy

In his own lifetime, Henry Adams was famous first for being the grandson of John Quincy Adams, thus the great grandson of John Adams; second for his epic History of the United States During the Jefferson and Madison Administrations. It was only upon his death, in 1918, that his third person autobiography, The Education of Henry Adams, was published and that his publisher revealed that Adams had written the previously anonymous novel Democracy. It is The Education which has sustained his reputation, having been named the number one book on the Modern Library list of the Top 100 Nonfiction Books of the 20th Century, but Democracy is still considered one of the better novels of American politics, though surprisingly it is currently out of print.

The novel is both a fairly typical 19th Century comedy of manners--with the widow Madeleine Lee decamping from New York to Washington DC, where she instantly becomes one of the Capital's most desirable catches--and a more serious meditation on the nature and pursuit of power in the American democracy. The widow Lee is specifically interested in Washington because it is the seat of power :

...she was bent upon getting to the heart of the great American mystery of democracy and government.

. . .

What she wished to see, she thought, was the clash of interests, the interests of forty millions of people and a whole continent, centering at Washington; guided, restrained, controlled, or unrestrained and uncontrollable, by men of ordinary mould; the tremendous forces of government, and the machinery of society at work. What she wanted was POWER.

Mrs. Lee's most likely pursuer is Senator Silas Ratcliffe of Illinois, widely considered a likely future President : he sees her as a perfect First Lady and she sees him as her path to power. Through an elaborate courtship ritual and several set piece scenes (in the Senate, at the White House, at Mount Vernon, at Arlington Cemetery and at a dress ball) Adams puts his characters through their paces and affords the reader an intimate look at the rather tawdry political milieu of the 1870's. The theme that runs throughout the story is that access to power comes only through compromising one's principles, but Adams is sufficiently ambivalent about the point that we're uncertain whether he's more contemptuous of those who make the necessary deals or those who, by staying "pure," sacrifice the opportunity to influence affairs of state. Suffice it to say that the novel ends with Mrs. Lee, assumed by most critics to represent Adams himself, fleeing to Egypt, telling her sister : "Democracy has shaken my nerves to pieces."

Like his presidential forebears, Henry Adams had a realistic and therefore jaundiced view of politics, even as practiced in a democracy. The Adams's did not subscribe to the starry eyed idealism of the Jeffersonians. But they were all drawn to politics, even realizing that it was a moral quagmire. This is the fundamental dilemma of the conservative democrat, we recognize that we have to govern ourselves because we know we can't trust unelected rulers, but we also understand that our elected representatives are unlikely to be any more honest than the tyrants we threw out. This attitude is famously captured in Winston Churchill's (alleged) aphorism : "Democracy: the worst of all possible systems, but there is no other which would be better." And the unfortunate corollary is that unless relatively honorable men like the Adamses and the Churchills pursue careers in politics, the field will be left to the real scoundrels. Henry Adams doesn't offer any solutions to the dilemma, but he offers an amusing take on it.

GRADE : B