David Liss: The Whiskey Rebels

The Whiskey Rebels by David Liss is the best historic novel I’ve read in a long time. I wasn’t expecting that. I expected it to be interesting, and informative, but not this much. On the other hand, it was not quite as much about the Whiskey Rebellion as I expected.

The 1790s were an important time in the establishment of the United States. The Constitution was still new, and Washington was still serving as the first President. Alexander Hamilton, as Secretary of the Treasury, was trying to establish a firm financial base for the new country, specifically through strong banking. Thomas Jefferson, as a perpetual debtor farmer, hated banks. He thought banks, and a requirement to repay loans to wealthy people, represented everything the Revolution fought against. He and Hamilton were bitter enemies.

Hamilton wanted to fund his financial reforms with a tax on whiskey. That was fine in most of the country, but devastating on the western frontier. With bad roads between East and West, and the rivers still blocked by the Spanish at New Orleans, the western settlers had no way of moving bulk produce to market. Their only solution was to distill their crops into whiskey, which could be shipped east and converted to cash. Ultimately Washington had to dispatch troops to Western Pennsylvania to put down a small revolt – The Whiskey Rebellion.

The Whiskey Rebels is about this situation, but stops short of the actual rebellion. We have two main characters whose paths cross, and stories intertwine.

Ethan Saunders is a former spy in George Washington’s service. Just before the end of the war, he was falsely accused of treason. Alexander Hamilton made him resign from the Army and disappear rather than face charges. Now, in 1792, Saunders is a drunken womanizer with a ruined reputation, and a strong grudge – no hatred – for Hamilton. He lurks in the darker corners of the nation’s capital, Philadelphia. As the story unfolds, he becomes a more likeable character. He cuts back on the drink, and we start to see the quick thinking that kept him alive behind British lines. But he is still better at taking a beating than at fighting his way out of a problem.

After a chapter with Saunders, we flash back to 1781 to meet Joan Maycott. She is a very strong minded, decisive woman. She really is a powerful and inspiring character. Just before Hamilton’s Treasury Department starts redeeming old war debt, her husband trades his presumably worthless paper pay for land in Western Pennsylvania. Once the Maycotts get out there they learn that they’ve been cheated on both ends. They only have a lease, not title to the western lands. And the land is not the civilized Garden of Eden that they were promised. But they persevere through a variety of hardships.

Saunders is dragged into current political struggles, and reluctantly, is helping Hamilton defend his new Bank of the United States. Maycott ultimately is drawn back to Philadelphia looking for revenge against the speculators who cheated her and her husband, including, in her mind, Hamilton and his Bank of the United States.

The use of flash back between the Saunders and Maycott chapters is very effective, but also quite unusual. We are following along with Saunders in 1792 “real time”, while following Maycott in flashback through 1791 and into 1792. Ultimately the Maycott strand and the Saunders strand unite in “real time”. But the unusual twist is that the stories don’t join until well after the two have met. So we see Saunders interacting with Maycott from his perspective. Then several chapters later we see the same interactions from Maycott’s perspective as the flash backs approach “real time”. I just loved it.

The Whiskey Rebels gives us a very good look at an interesting, but little explored part of US history. Based on other reading, I believe the history is accurate. The characters are exceptional. The story of the country going through financial crisis is more relevant than the author could have expected. Obviously I need to read more books by David Liss.

Michael Crichton: The Great Train Robbery

The Great Train Robbery was the first Michael Crichton book I ever read. In some ways that probably helps explain why it was eighteen years before I read another. Before re-reading it this summer, I remember almost nothing. About all I could tell you was that some folks robbed a train, and that at some point in the preparations a boy was sent through a small window to let other conspirators through a door.

The book deals with what the Victorians described as “The Crime of the Century”, or The Great Train Robbery” of 1855 in England. The time was very different than what we see today. Nothing moved faster than a train. Safes were mostly invulnerable. Dynamite and nitro-glycerin had not been invented. Steel was stronger that gunpowder. There were no high-speed drills or combination locks. The only way into a safe required a key, or keys. Victorian society was very stratified. Upper and lower classes did not mix. New social attitudes held that crime was a function of poverty, therefore it was inconceivable that a gentleman would commit a crime.

Within this environment we meet the apparent gentleman, Edward Pierce. He is interested in stealing the gold being shipped by rail to fund the payroll of British troops fighting in the Crimean War. As he explained it, “I wanted the money.” To succeed he needs access to the safe on the moving train. More importantly, he needs copies of the four keys required to open the safe. Most of the book details the year he and his confederates spent preparing for the crime.

The books main asset is also its main detraction. Every step of the way is described in archaic Victorian criminal jargon. Pierce is planning a “ream flash pull”. Some of the key players are the “putter-up”, the “screwsman”, and the “snakeman”. To gain access to one of the keys, they executed a “carriage fakement”, with the aid of a “crow” and a “stall”. All these terms are explained when first used, but not always when they reappear.

We get a very realistic picture of Victorian England. The language really imparts a sense of the times. The crime is intellectually challenging and well executed. Contingencies appear, and are overcome. We know from early in the book that Pierce will get the money, bit also will go to trial. But unless you are already an expert on the historical events, the book still holds surprises to the end.

The Great Train Robbery is not as ‘edge of your seat” captivating as many of Crichton’s other novels. But it is intriguing in its own way. I think I appreciate it more now, with my more mature tastes, than I did on the first read.

Jeff Shaara: The Steel Wave

Since I’m running so far behind on my reviews, I might as well do The Steel Wave now. As I said in the review of The Rising Tide, this is the second volume in Jeff Shaara’s World War II trilogy. This volume covers the D-Day landing in Normandy, and the Allied breakout from their beachheads.

Key characters again include Erwin Rommel, Dwight Eisenhower, George Patton, Bernard Montgomery, and in an increased role, Omar Bradley. We also continue to follow the exploits of Sgt Jessie Adams of the 82nd Airborne.

The first half of the book deals with plans and preparation. Again Eisenhower’s biggest challenge seems to be keeping the peace between his British and American subordinates. Rommel’s biggest challenge is incompetent meddling from higher headquarters. Patton again causes almost more trouble than he’s worth by shooting off his mouth in front of reporters.

Shaara gives us a good view of the invasion. The paratroop drops go better than in Sicily, but still prove to be a very disorganized way to fight a war. Obviously the landings succeed, but Omaha Beach does not go well, and is very costly.

We get a good view of the final breakout from the beachheads. The British forces do not advance as well as Montgomery has promised, but are facing the stronger enemy. The Americans under Bradley, and with a drive by Patton do break through German lines. Rommel is still hampered in his defense by inane orders from Berlin.

The D-Day story has been told many times in books and movies. The gold standard for years was probably S.L.A. Marshall, until he was displaced by Stephen Ambrose. The Steel Wave complements Ambrose by portraying the personal, emotional side of the events. As with the rest of Shaara’s novels, this is not light fiction. It is interesting, accessible history.

Jeff Shaara: The Rising Tide

I re-read The Rising Tide by Jeff Shaara since I was about to read the second volume of his World War II trilogy, The Steel Wave. Jeff Shaara made his success with Civil War novels, picking up where his father (Michael Shaara) left off. The Shaara approach is to pick key players, particularly opposing generals, as well as representative small players, and to tell the story in their words.

These books are barely fiction. They are thoroughly researched. As well as can be told by any historian, events happened exactly as described. But Shaara invents dialog based on memoirs and letters, or in the case of the WW II, interviews. When Alan Eckert did this in the 1960s and 70s, he called it non-fiction, although that was controversial.

The Rising Tide covers the North African campaign, the Sicilian campaign, and the Allied invasion of Italy. It stops short of the grueling fighting in Italy. I was interested in the overlap with Rick Atkinson’s first two WW II non-fiction works, An Army at Dawn (North Africa) and The Day of Battle (Sicily and Italy through Rome). Both authors address the inexperience of American forces, and the rivalry between British and American commanders. Atkinson probably paints a starker picture of Allied screw-ups and near-criminal competition. But Shaara probably gives a better feel for the emotional context.

Some of Shaara’s main characters are Erwin Rommel, Dwight Eisenhower, Bernard Montgomery, and George Patton. He introduces us to a tanker named Jack Logan, and a paratrooper named Jessie Adams. Through these perspectives he tells of the fight across North Africa and Sicily.

The Americans were especially concerned about what kind of opposition they would have from the French when they landed. For the most part, landings were unopposed, but progress to reach and fight the Germans and Italians were slowed by French fighting. In all our nostalgia about Allied forces liberating France, it’s hard to remember that at this point of the war, the Vichy French forces were allied with Germany.

At the time, the Americans wanted to launch a cross-channel invasion of France, rather than fight in North Africca, Sicily, and Italy. The British insisted on the southern strategy. I think that both Shaara and Atkinson make it obvious that the Americans needed these fights as a bloody, costly training experience. Through these campaigns they weeded out incompetent commanders, inadequate equipment, and unrealistic tactics. It is easy to believe that an invasion of Northern France in 1942 would have ended in disaster.

The Rising Tide is not a fun escapist novel. But it is interesting and accurate history. Shaara’s style of putting words into the mouths of real people in real events makes the history accessible.

Joe R Blakely: Lifting Oregon Out of the Mud: Building the Oregon Coast Highway and Kidnapped…On Oregon’s Coast Highway

Guest Review by Kit Bradley
July 28, 2008

If you read my earlier reviews, you can guess where I met Joe Blakely… Yes, at the Authors and Artists fair last December, benefiting the Eugene Public Library. I am an easy mark for authors that I meet in person, and I bought quite a few books that day, including these two from Joe Blakely.

I was intrigued with Blakely’s two-book effort. First he researched the construction of the Oregon Coast Highway in the 1920’s and 1930’s and wrote Lifting Oregon Out of the Mud. And then he wrote Kidnapped…On Oregon’s Coast Highway, a novel that is set in the same timeframe, in which three people chase each other along the incomplete coast highway.

Lifting Oregon Out of the Mud starts with a description of the sorry state of coast roads in the 1910’s. There are few roads interconnecting coastal cities, and the roads that do exist are often deep mud in the rainy season. Coastal communities are just starting to band together to sell the idea of a north/south coast highway to the politicians in the state capital, Salem.

This one photograph moved me to buy the book. I couldn’t resist the expression on the man’s face as he dealt with the realities of coastal travel.

At the beginning of the narrative we were at war with Germany, and the Pacific Coast Defense League argued for a military highway stretching from Washington to California, which they named the Roosevelt Coast Military Highway. The idea was well received, but… How to pay for it? Oregon passed its first gas tax, a penny a gallon, making some funds available. But political interests in Portland and eastern Oregon pressured to spend the money on inland north/south roads. During the 1920’s some money made it to the coast, and short segments of the Roosevelt Highway were built each year.

By the early 1930’s, most of the roadway was complete, but there were still several big bridges to build, replacing the original, somewhat unreliable ferries in use across the coast rivers. The resulting bridges are the most stunning man-made structures on the coast, still fascinating to us travelers today.

Finally in 1936, seventeen years after the first funding, the highway was completed, 420 miles from Astoria to Crescent City, California. This short, 65-page book was easy to read, and provided interesting history. It did, however, get a little tiring reading the construction details for every segment of road and for every bridge. None-the-less, I am now well primed for…

Kidnapped… On Oregon’s Coast Highway, is a fun adventure that takes place in 1926, when the coast highway was only partly complete. Ben Cooper, a young reporter for The Oregonian, has been told to drive the entire Oregon Coast Highway from Crescent City to Astoria, and to report on what he sees. He’s looking forward to it—until his editor tells him to pick up Eva Barton, a young conservationist, who is to tag along and write about the destruction of old growth forests. That will probably lead to ideological conflicts, but nothing like the conflict with Tom Bigalow, Eva’s ex-fiancé. Tom can’t get over losing Eva, and he will do anything to get her back.

That’s the setting for a sometimes scenic, sometimes muddy, sometimes exciting drive up the coast, with Ben and Eva in the lead and Tom not far behind. Ben is modest but gallant and braver than he knew. Eva is sweet but relentless in her quest to save the old trees. And Tom is evil, shockingly so as the story unfolds.

The story is predictable, the relationships develop as you might guess, and the dialog is a little stiff. But the people they meet, the places they go, and the drama of the chase are all very captivating. I thoroughly enjoyed Blakely’s Kidnapped, especially after reading Lifting Oregon Out of the Mud.

Howard Fast: April Morning

I picked up a copy of April Morning by Howard Fast because somewhere I read that it was the first novel in John Jakes’ library of historical fiction. I figured Jakes would know historical fiction because he wrote some commercially successful Civil War novels. His North and South made a pretty good mini-series. And I like historical fiction, especially set in the American Revolution.

Adam Cooper starts the book as a teenage boy feeling oppressed by his father, and dreaming of his girlfriend. Sounds like a pretty standard story line, except that it takes place in 1775. I think we get a pretty good picture of family life in the 18th century.

Not coincidentally, the next morning Adam is on Lexington Green with the town militia when the British arrive. I’ve always thought that the American stand on Lexington Green was one of the most futilely foolish incidents in American history. With Fast’s description, I still feel that way. A bunch of men and boys with no chance to accomplish anything stand in front of a major detachment of the best army in the world. We see the death and terror vividly.

Adam goes through terror, shame, anger, and exhaustion. He rejoins the fight at Merriam’s corner in Concord, and stays with it until the British complete their retreat into Boston. In contrast with the Lexington incident, I’ve always thought that the running fight from Concord to Boston was one of the highlights of American history. Americans stepped up to do what they needed to do, and used tactics and skills appropriate to the situation. Smart and practical beats brave and dumb any day.

Adam may not have accomplished much, but he grows up in a hurry. He ends the short novel as a young man back at his home with serious decisions to make.

At first, I didn’t think much of the book. It seems a little simple. But then I decided I really was getting a good feel for the times. Adam is no superhero. He is just an American stepping up to what needs to be done, before deciding whether or not he is a patriot.

When I was scanning the internet for a cover picture to post, I discovered that a lot of Junior High kids hate this book. Apparently I accidentally stumble into a book being used in Social Studies classes. How embarrassing. But I still say that it paints a pretty good picture of the times. That may be why teachers use it, and kids hate it.

Alexandre Dumas: The Count of Monte Cristo

After being disappointed by Alexandre Dumas’ The Last Cavalier, I needed to find out if my fond memories of The Count of Monte Cristo were justified. Did The Last Cavalier suffer from bad translation, lack of polish due to Dumas’ death, or overly high expectations based on my faulty memory.

I remembered absolutely nothing from my reading 40 years ago. In his introduction, the interpreter, Robin Buss, gives the simple synopsis: “innocent man imprisoned, meets fellow-prisoner who directs him to a buried fortune, escapes and plots revenge.” I still remembered nothing.

This translation was completed in 1996, so obviously it is not the same one I read before. It would be easy to leave a lot of description and rambling out of the story and abridge the book to a fairly simple plot. But at 1,243 pages Buss left out nothing – which I appreciate. Dumas wrote the book in 1844, and he was French. So a lot of attitudes about honor, behavior of gentlemen, bankruptcy, marital relations, drug use, sexual orientation, etc. all are a little strange to the modern reader. But love is still love, and betrayal is still betrayal.

At the opening of the book, Edmond Dantes is a young man who has it all. He is in love with a beautiful woman, Mercedes, who agrees to marry him; he is about to receive command of a merchant ship; and he has a strong supportive relationship with his father.

Unbeknownst to Dantes, he has enemies. The supercargo on his ship, Danglars, is jealous of his impending command. And Fernand is jealous of his impending wedding to Mercedes. And the times are trecherous. The story starts in a brief period of restored monarchy while Napoleon is in exile on Elba. Napoleon is about to come back to France to restore his empire. Danglars comes up a plan to denounce Dantes as a Bonapartist, and maneuvers Fernand into making the denunciation.

The denunciation comes to the local prosecutor, Villefort, who can quickly see that Dantes is innocent. But there is a letter involved that ties Villefort’s father to a Bonapartist plot. In order to protect his own political ambitions, Villefort destroys the evidence and has Dantes locked in a dungeon in an island prison.

Years later, Dantes escapes from prison, with the knowledge of a fantastic treasure. He becomes fabulously wealthy, buys a title, and becomes the Count of Monte Cristo. He re-enters society to fulfill his revenge. But revenge must be better than merely killing his enemies. He needs to accomplish their complete downfall.

While Dantes has been away, Fernand marries Mercedes, goes to war, switches sides as needed, and has been rewarded with the title Count de Morcerf. Danglars funded the right people at the right times and became a wealthy banker. Villefort dodged artfully though the troubles of Napoleon’s return, downfall, and subsequent restoration of the monarchy to become the chief crown prosecutor. They have all become prominent in Parisian society.

Dantes’ enemies also all have children with complicating romances and friendships. They provide subplots that impact on Dantes’ decisions.

It took less than 250 pages to destroy Dantes world, and then to restore him to fabulous wealth. But revenge is to be savored. Revenge takes 1,000 pages. At times, revenge became hard to put down.

There is a lot of description of social mores of the times. But it all fits. The social maneuvering is critical to the destruction of Dantes’ enemies. There was not much swashbuckling adventure here, just a little every now and then. But setting up Fernand, Danglars, and Villefort for their fall – exquisite.

So my conclusion is that my fond memory of The Count of Monte Cristo was well founded. And the translation was very complete, leaving out nothing. So I have to conclude that The Last Cavalier suffered either because Dumas did not write as well at the end of his life, or he did not edit the story as needed because of his untimely death.

Alexandre Dumas: The Last Cavalier

As a long time fan of Alexandre Dumas (The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, etc.) I was excited to hear of an English translation of a long lost novel – The Last Cavalier. With the subtitle – Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napolean – I anticipated a 19th century D’Artagnan running around doing brave, foolish, and occasionally humorous things. I expected another swashbuckling adventure full of action, political intrigue, and maybe even a little “out of reach” romance.

I could not have been more wrong!

Part I, titled “Bonaparte” is essentially about Napoleon Bonaparte consolidating his power, transforming himself from First Consul (for life) to Emperor. It mostly tells the story of how he captures and executes enemies from both the Royalist resistance and revolutionary Republicans.

The book is full of strange diversions. It starts with two chapters dealing with Josephine Bonaparte’s debts. Those debts have no role further in the book – why do we lead with them? We have chapters dealing with who wears what to various balls, and even more strangely, who is qualified to dance which dances. The overall story of Bonaparte’s consolidation of power is interesting, if you discount the diversions. But it also assumes a more detailed knowledge of French history than I have.

A particularly interesting character is Joseph Fouché, Misister of Police. He maintains a network of spies, and seems to know everything. When Bonaparte tries to get rid of him as too independent, he secretly mounts a deliberately clumsy resistance, to discredit his successor.

Our supposed hero, Hector de Saite-Hermine, appears with a speaking role a little over 80 pages into the novel. Then he spends three or four chapters telling the story of the execution of his father and two older brothers, but nothing about himself. He drops in and out briefly for the next hundred pages or so, but not in any substantive role. Although in this section he wins and loses the love that attaches a tragic mystique to the rest of his life.

Part II, titled “Napoleon” is a story about Count Sainte-Hermine. But he is no longer using that name. Now he mostly goes by the name “René”. René can do no wrong. He is the best shot, the strongest man, the best swordsman, the most generous, the most gentlemanly. Everyone loves him – men and women. Except Napoleon. (If he appeared in more books, I would tire of him – just as I tired of Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt.)

The second part does include a lot of swashbuckling adventure. But it also suffers from long diversions. René becomes a seaman on a corsair – or privateer. He joins his ship in Saint-Malo, so we have to drop back to 1100 to gather the history of the town. His adventures take him to Île de France, so we must drop back to the 1400’s to hear it’s story.

René kills tigers, panthers, alligators, and pythons in Burma with such abandon, it is obvious that Dumas comes from an earlier time. There is clearly no concern for endangered species - or for that matter, for non-European humans.

René returns from the Indian Ocean in time to join the regular navy and fight in the battle of Trafalgar. He even gets credit for the shot that kills Admiral Nelson.

René moves on to land based adventures in Southern Italy, but now he takes on the name Count Leo. Since his route takes him along the Appian Way, we learn of virtually every Roman buried along that highway. Again he gets credit for major victories for Napoleon’s forces, and wins the respect of Napoleon’s brother and generals – and any women who happen to be around.

Count Leo was close to the end of a particular challenge when Dumas died. So the editor of this edition wrote enough to wrap up the story line. It satisfies the story, but does not quite ring true to Dumas.

Finally, we get a few chapters with our hero, back to the René name, in Venice on the eve of an attack from Austria. He wins the hearts of the women and leaders, and I’m sure he would have comported himself admirably. But no one wrote this story.

I remember years ago reading The Count of Monte Cristo and not being able to put it down. Whereas, The Last Cavalier was eminently put-downable. So what’s the difference? This new book was translated by a true Dumas scholar. Perhaps he kept all the trivia when translators of the other books may have left stuff out. I read The Three Musketeers in both English and the original French. But maybe my French was bad enough that I skimmed past trivia. Or maybe Dumas would have cleaned it up for a full publication.

It’s been close to 40 years since I last read Dumas. I probably need to try one of the older books to see if they really are as exciting as I remember.

Ken Follett: World Without End

Fourteenth century England is not a gentle time. The word of the master is absolute law. Corporal and capital punishment is routine for the smallest infractions. And failure to pay debts, especially to the local lord, is unforgivable. Dangers abound in lawlessness, accidents, and illness. Most health issues are fatal, because medicine is based in dogma, not science.

Ken Follett’s World Without End tells a wonderful story of the times. The story takes place in the same town, centered around the same cathedral that centered in his earlier novel, The Pillars of the Earth. Only we are two centuries later. But ultimately the theme is similar. Good people, dedicated to their dreams, honest in their dealings, can prevail against all odds and in terrible times. (Although I do need to re-read The Pillars of the Earth to remember and enjoy the details.)

We meet four children at the beginning, whose interwoven adult stories make up the rest of the book. Gwenda is the daughter of a poor family, just being launched on the dangerous career as a thief. But she also learns that there is a better path. Caris is the daughter of a leading wool merchant, and has dreams of being a doctor. But she learns that only men – clergy – are allowed to be doctors. Merthin, the son of a poor knight has dreams of martial glory, but although he is exceedingly smart, he is small. His bother Ralph on the other hand isn’t all that bright, but he is big and strong. Much to Merthin’s dismay, and Ralph’s delight, the local Lord, Earl Roland, takes Ralph on as a squire, and orders Merthin to be apprenticed to a builder. Merthin doesn’t know it, but anyone who has read The Pillars of the Earth knows that being a builder is the key to success in a medieval Follett novel.

I don’t think I’m revealing too much to say that Merthin and Caris fall in love, but encounter countless obstacles to being together. Despite unjust treatment, Merthin perseveres to become a great builder. And also despite the obstacles, Caris becomes a great healer. Ralph becomes a brute, and Gwenda pursues an impossible love. Throw in war, plague, political intrigue, and economic disaster, and you get a sense of the context of the book.

World Without End really is a great read. The supporting cast is wonderful, full of loveable and despicable characters. The color of the time shines through. But overriding it all is the glory of the human spirit.