This biography of the cranky JQA and his gentle wife, Louisa Catherine, got off to a good start. It opens with a vivid account of their wedding at the church of All Hallows Barking. Unfortunately, Shepard never delves deep enough into the volatile relationship between the president and his "fine lady." I was left wondering WHAT exactly they felt for one another. Did they love one another, despite the pain each inflicted? I think so....but this biography does not provide the answer. The hauntingly beautiful quote that the title is taken from says more than the entire book: "It was a marriage of light to shadow, of spring to winter, of heart to cannibal..." There are some good moments toward the end. The description of an aged JQA's triumphant tour through the states he loved is fantastic (his disgusted daughter-in-law got sick of the cheering crowds and went home!) I would reccomend Paul Nagel's "Descent from Glory" over this.

This book kept me up late night after night! Jack Shepherd is a good storyteller, and goes into the background of John Quincy and Louisa Catherine to help us understand why they became the people they did. (I had no idea that John Quincy was a frustrated party guy who roamed the Boston Common at night!)

He also goes into great detail, describing society during each of John Quincy's diplomatic posts, so that we feel like we're part of that era. I also learned a lot of history, and have a better appreciation for the fragile democracy that existed between the American Revolution and the Civil War.

The first part of the book is especially lively, describing their courtship and wedding. I thought the book lost a little steam at the end (or maybe I was losing steam, since they lead such full lives!) I agree that the book leaves me wanting more, only because it focuses more on their personal lives, rather than John Quincy's career, which I want to explore more now.

I definitely recommend this book as an easy-to-read and well-researched document about two Americans who sacrificed so much of themselves for their country, yet have been forgotten.

Brookhiser's book about the Adams family takes a look at four generations of the Adamses and discusses their contributions to American history. While this book does offer some minor insights, it is flawed in a number of ways.

First of all, thematically, this book is weak. While John Adams and John Quincy Adams are important figures in history, Charles and Henry are really much more footnotes. Nonetheless, Brookhiser gives each figure equal weight, while it is clear that - like most dynasties - the glory rarely lasts beyond the second generation. And with all the discussion he gives to the later Adamses, he only peripherally discusses John's important cousin, Samuel Adams.

Not as glaring but more problematic is Brookhiser's occasional distortion of history and his imperfect objectivity. A couple examples: he refers to James Buchanan as a definite homosexual, while the evidence is far from clear on that subject. He also incorrectly states the chronology of the 1824 election: John Quincy Adams did not offer Clay the Secretary of State position until after he was elected.

At best, this book is half good, primarily as an introduction to John and John Quincy, both of whom have much better biographies available. Otherwise, this book is skippable.

Richard Brookhiser doesn't write 'biographies' in the conventional sense -- and certainly not in the modern sense, in which writers seem determined to prove that once-admired historical figures are just as messed up as the rest of us, and probably even worse. No, what Brookhiser attempts to do (as I believe he noted in 'Founding Father,' his book about George Washington) is reclaim the ancient idea of biography as a means of understanding and exploring ideas about civic virtue, citizenship, and (dare we say?) morals.

This isn't to say that Brookhiser whitewashes his subjects. Far from it: his subjects come through in this book both as sharply defined individuals and as members of a family with a very clear sense of itself and its place in history. That he chooses not to bog himself down in domestic minutia doesn't detract from the quality of the biography, and enhances the points he's trying to make.

If this book were a novel, cover blurbs would breathlessly proclaim it 'the sweeping saga of an American family across four tempestuous generations.' And the description wouldn't be far wrong. From the time of the Founding until the First World War, the Adams family was (to varying degrees at various times, but always to some extent) among the most prominent, influential, respected, and reviled families in America. Brookhiser does a fine job showing how four individual members of this family bore that inheritance, and shaped, and were shaped by, what it meant to be an Adams. If 'the contract of the [American] founding ... was a contract with their family' (p. 199), the family had contractual obligations in return. Many Adamses chose not to fulfill those 'obligations.' But the four who most notably did, did so with one eye on their times and the other on their patrimony.

The four biographies are fascinating in their own rights. But the section of the book I most enjoyed was the final four chapters, in which Brookhiser weighs one Adams against another and against some of the perennial questions of American civic life -- most notably the question of Republic versus Empire. It's here, especially, that Brookhiser shows how the lessons of the Adams dynasty apply to our own times as well as theirs.

The most obvious appeal of 'America's First Dynasty' is to students of political history. But it also bears reading for the light it shines on current political, constitutional, and cultural questions, and for the recurring dilemma of the family in American political life. For if the supermarket tabloids still label a certain other political/media clan as 'America's royal family,' it's worth remembering that they're not the first nor, by any stretch, the most important. This book is definitely worth a read.

An interesting and nicely readable survey of four generations of one of America's founding families. Brookhiser's book doesn't have the detail of McCollough's recent biography on Adams (this isn't a complaint, by the way!). Instead, it traces family traits and dispositions through their historical and psychological course over a period of 150 years or so.

Each one of the mini-biographies of the four Adamses Brookhiser discusses--John, John Quincy, Charles, and Henry--are fascinating in themselves. But what I think is especially valuable is the thread of melancholy that seems to run through the Adams lineage, a thread Brookhiser paints with innuendo rather than bold stroke. John's ambition and frustrated pride, John Quincy's self-punishing advocacy of unpopular causes, Charles' heart-breaking need to establish a postmortem relationship with his father by editing John Quincy's multi-volumed diary, Henry's world-weariness that expresses itself in his cleverly cynical autobiography or his romantic nostalgia for a medieval period that really never was: each of the Adamses suffers from and copes with a dark side in his own way. The darkness is what makes them all so incredibly intriguing and, combined with a New England work ethic, creates a restlessness in them that probably fuels their success.

Two bonuses in the book: first, provocative insights one picks up about the Adamses (for example, Charles's aristocratic, stiff-upper-lip handling of his own increasing dotage in his last years--how Adams-like; or Henry's refusal to mourn the beloved wife who killed herself--again, only an Adams could put on such a public front); second, the book's topic invites us to ask ourselves why it is that we Americans, who supposedly deplore aristocracy out of a loyalty to our democratic traditions, so enjoy and protect our homegrown dynasties. The Adamses, the Roosevelts, the Rockefellers, the Kennedys, the Bushes--we either love 'em or love to hate 'em. A good question to ask ourselves is "why?".

There have been two instances of a father and son both achieving the presidency of the United States and there is a common characteristic. In each case one of the two had a distinguished history of public service that would indicate excellent preparation for the rigors of being president. However, both of those men served only one term, voted down amid lackluster support even among those who were their natural political allies.
George Bush senior was a combat aviator in world war two, served in congress, was head of the CIA and was vice president for eight years. And yet, his presidency is generally considered to have been more of a caretaker administration than anything else. He came dangerously close to coming in third in the election where he was defeated by Bill Clinton. John Quincy Adams served his nation well as an ambassador to Europe during some of the most troubling early years of the nation. A distinguished public figure in many other ways, it certainly appeared that he was well prepared for the presidency. However, his administration was also rather lackluster and it too has the appearance of a caretaker government.
Despite the relative lack of major events during the four years of the John Quincy Adams administration, Hargreaves manages to fill 323 pages. This attention to excruciating detail makes the book difficult to read and it is by far the least interesting of the eight books in the American presidency series that I have read. To put this into perspective, the eight years of the Andrew Jackson presidency are summarized in 277 pages and the four years of the Van Buren administration in 211. Detailed explanations of minor legislative debates and the personal relationships between the principles are presented to the point that they just become tedious.
All of this in unfortunate, because John Quincy Adams was a very interesting man who tried to uphold the principles of democracy as he saw them. The problem of course was that the nation was changing. He was the last president with roots to the old statesman/gentleman mold of men that created the nation and the constitution. Adams was constantly fighting the populist movement of Andrew Jackson, with the appeal to the masses that was so different from the presidential politics that had come before. This point is mentioned in the book, but unfortunately all the detail tends to bury it.
The presidency of John Quincy Adams marks a turning point in the history of the United States. After him, presidents were elected by political campaigns with mass appeal rather than the collective will of a relatively small number of people. Furthermore, they were no longer chosen from a group of aristocratic gentleman, as rough hewn self-made men were now viable candidates. This point is made in the book, but not as well as it should and certainly not as precisely as it could have been.