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I find Boorstin's works very readable, and the style enjoyable. My only concern is that sometimes it seems that some complexities are ignored in favor of developing an overall theme. However, this remains one of very few histories I pick up for fun to read a few chapters.
I also found it amusing when he exploded some common myths concerning our history. You really should read this book.
Goebbels and Hitler were masterminds of this art and the book personifies their mastery of mass persuasion. In the photographs, Hitler is presented as a "normal guy" in civilian clothes, surrounded by adoring children at his retreat on the Obersalzberg. He is also presented as the omniscienet Fuehrer, presiding over mass rallies in Nuremberg, mesmerizing the audience. The photographs, all by Hitler's official photographer, Heinrich Hoffman, are excellent representations of a nation gone collectively mad, seduced by Hitler's paralyzing charisma.
One cautionary note: this book is not written by Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels. The text is incidental and was certainly not penned by Goebbels, who scarcely appears in this book. Despite the misleading title, this is an essential book for anyone with an interest in how Hitler effectively and brutally utilized propaganda in the 30's.
It is both horrifying to read, because you know what happens even tually, but strangely fascinating, watching how the devil's mar- keter packaged him, complete with glowing testimonies from people coming from all walks of life. In all the photo ops, der fuehrer is shown smiling benevolently, as ecstatic crowds greet him. Yes there are the requisite baby-kissing, attentively listening to children, etc.
So, if you wish to study the black side of marketing and packag- ing a political figure-read this book. And remember it's lessons well when you are asked to vote for someone that is packaged a little too smartly.....there lurks no friend, but a savage mask- ing behind a sheep's clothes.
Well worth the price for it's historical value, as well as the wrenching reality that one has seen such slick packing of polit- ical figures before-remember The Selling of the President?
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A man is dying and from his bed he struggles to put his papers in order, to try to give shape to his last book. His mind races with all manner of thought mainly about society: the mechanization of the arts, society's dumbing down, player pianos, the Pulitzer Prize, school violence. All these thought threads come together in one overarching theme, and Gaddis's genius is not only in the ideas put forth but in his prose style: a style of fits and starts, sentences that run on incessantly, others that end abruptly to go on to the next thought. It is the perfect representation on paper of the thought processes of a dying intellectual man.
Admirers of both Gaddis's work as well as the work of Thomas Bernhard will gain much from this slim volume. Joseph Tabbi's afterword at the end puts this novella in context when viewed against Gaddis's entire ouevre.
Readers new to Gaddis might start with this one or "A Frolic of His Own."
Either way, treat yourself to this little book, one that deserves to be read more than once, one that deserves to be admired, one written by a largely overlooked American giant.
This prejudice of mine is coupled with a general dislike for posthumous works in general-the kind where a Major Author left a work unfinished at death, and which is years after released and edited with an introduction or forward by some noted Scholar: ("This really IS a great book, all of Fitzgerald's/Hemingway's/Duras'/McGowin's major Themes are here," etc., etc.). Well, they very seldom are great works, and just as the act of Revision seems contrived to some (your Kerouac wannabes, perhaps), I, conversely, find the act of posthumous publication to itself be contrived-again, in general. Glenn Gould, the great pianist, once expressed his intense dislike of "live" recordings being released on record labels with the surrounding hoopla, and said he planned to do a "fake" live album, recorded in the studio, complete with mistakes and overdubbed with audience coughing, etc. Sony of course wouldn't go for it, but I've often wanted to write a "fake" posthumous novel, the Final (unfinished) Work of a Great American Novelist-I'll make it about 100 de-contextualized pages, with 200 pages of forwards, introductions, afterwards, and footnotes. Now that Dave Eggars is a Publisher, he should get in touch.
But in the case of Agape Agape, the Afterward is totally superfluous. The book was finished when Gaddis died, and I don't need to have that explained to me, nor do I care what Joseph Tabbi et. al. Think of it in the overall context of Gaddis' other novels or what it started out as or what Gaddis wanted it to achieve. It's 125 pages, and all of a piece, without section or chapter breaks, the perfect length for what is the most cohesive and affecting book the man ever wrote-the free-associations of a dying narrator who's afraid his lifelong goal to write the definitive history of the player piano will never come to fruition. Into this frenetic and breathless narrative, then, is woven...everything. What begins with the narrator's opinions concerning several aspects of the History and Future of Technology becomes a fictional autobiography the likes of which has rarely been achieved, cemented by the character's grasp of mortality and humanity, and by Gaddis' seamless and masterful narrative drive. He is ON.
This is a one or two-sitting book, and the reader will come away from it reeling. It's too brief for me to go into specifics, for the specifics are the book, the book is the plot-but if you've never read Gaddis, START HERE. And if you need to picture a Literary Precedent, think of Dostoyevsky's Notes from Underground, perhaps, or of the best shorter work by Camus or John Hawkes-but only think. Because this book suceeds where Gaddis' other novels drag in that it also makes you feel.
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Gonsalves offers enough geopolitical background to put the conflict in context, but concentrates on telling of a rifle company's experiences during the last year of the stalemated fighting. It's a GIs' world of war, where the action in 1952-53 was a dug-in, frustrating, freezing, sweaty, muddy, bloody exchange of propaganda and lethal ordnance, with counterpoints of crushing boredom and mindless terror. For the American soldiers--18- to 21-year-olds made up the bulk of Easy's ranks--"the experience became a time that lived with them forever," writes Gonsalves.
Ex-GIs, whether or not they served in Korea, will find the book engrossing. It will serve others equally well: those who had sons, brothers, fathers, uncles and cousins in Korea. With textbook thoroughness, Gonsalves presents the makeup of a rifle company, its armament, combat assignments, and life on the line. Through the voices and letters of enlisted men and officers, the book reflects what they were thinking, how they were reacting, and echoes the ebb and flow of human spirit as peace talks droned on at Panmunjom only a few miles away from Easy's sandbagged bunkers...
This book is more about dogfaces than heroes ("grunts" is a Vietnam-era term). There were heroes, to be sure, and citations of their exploits are interspersed in the text. But the GIs of Easy were Everyman, and could be found in any regiment...
The back pages offer a chronology of the peace talks with concurrent front-line action and Easy's involvement. In July 1953, for instance, Easy was committed in a major battle over Pork Chop Hill, a month after the Communists had accepted a U.N. peace proposal! It's picky to say more maps would have helped; that's true of most books. But if you know of Pork Chop Hill, have read the book or seen the movie, there's a photo of it--a rare good one--on page 158...
In straightforward but gripping fashion, Gonsalves and the boys of Easy Company offer a book-full of reasons to remember a war we forget at our peril.
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History books which have bored me have relied excessively on the indiscriminate accumulation of detail. While this obsessive desire to be thorough might be necessary for the education of students, quantity of detail alone fails to give the complete, balanced view of reality that I look for in all kinds of reading. One reason I like Boorstin is that he writes narrative history, favoring theme over chronology, thus allowing the continuities and significance of history to emerge. His American story comprises many smaller stories. What I thought were signs of the times often turned out to be peculiarly American characteristics.
Boorstin writes, for example, that government paid for railroads and colleges in order to serve the growing community. Spencer's dichotomy of "The Man Versus the State" in 19th century Europe was meaningless in 19th Century America because distinctions such as public and private were often blurred. It is fitting that Boorstin divided his book into "Community" and "Nationality" because community preceded government. Contrary to the myth of the rugged individual explorer, Americans traveled in groups. Settlers who headed west, regardless of motive, wrote their own Mayflower Compact before loading the wagons. Venturing into lawless areas, they formed laws for their protection. Even vigilantism was a way of maintaining order rather than flaunting it.
The second half of the book examines vagueness as a source of strength. The country grew and prospered before its geographical boundaries had been explored. Here are also passages on American ways of talking, the creation of myths and legends, the establishment of the national holiday, and the importance of political parties.
Nearly every page of Boorstin's history contains some nugget of Americana which in isolation appears to be trivial but in historical context emerges to reveal something profound about American life.