I’m sorry for the radio silence! Between classes, the job hunt, and wrangling health insurance from my school, it’s been a busy week and a half. I actually have some posts coming down the pipe in the next couple of days or so, but until then, I’d like to share with you some of the interesting articles I’ve been reading when I’ve had the time to.
One of the better books I read this month was Democracy’s Muse by Andrew Burstein, an examination of Thomas Jefferson as a political role model to a wide variety of movements, from Jacksonian Democrats and FDR to Reagan Republicans and the Tea Party. It was a truly fascinating examination of a multifaceted historical figure, and how the ideology and writing of one man can be easily twisted and flipped around by folks of all kinds to serve into one viewpoint or another. Burstein also examined how Jefferson’s legacy has shifted in the wake of his sexual relationship with his female slave Sally Hemings and his religious views.
Democracy’s Muse was an interesting read considering that earlier this year I read American Sphinx by Joseph J. Ellis; the former laid out Jefferson’s self as seen by his successors, the later laid out Jefferson’s self as seen in a more historically placed context, less futuristic in its lens. Dovetailed together, the two books created a much fuller image of Jefferson than I had previously in my mind.
It is also interesting that the issue of legacy is so prevalent in this texts, considering that it is also a main theme in Lin-Manuel Miranda’s uber popular award-winning (Tony award winning!) musical, Hamilton, based on the Ron Chernow biography. Hamilton tries to protect his legacy but takes a disastrous misstep with the publication of the Reynolds Pamphlet, which destroys his political career and kicks off the first legitimate Washington sex scandal in U.S. history. But his immense library of writings, the financial systems and institutions he created, kept his name in the history books as a creator of things, not just a married man who slept with a married woman. Unfortunately, Hamilton worried so much about his legacy while he was living that he didn’t seem to see how secure it really was.
There needs to be a word, probably some sort of German compound phrase, for the feeling a person has when they are reading a book that on any other day would be a good book, but on that particular day, it is just not happening. The characters fail to grab one’s attention. The plot seems wholly inspired. The dialogue sticks in the throat. If only, they lament, they had not read that really good book right before it, the one that kept them up all night and into the morning, flipping pages with impossible speed.
This is happening to me right now. What is the word for it? Other than a deep sinking feeling of disappointment that is frankly self-inflicted. I flew too high and now I plummet, on the wings of a book that deserved better.
I spent a good chunk of fall 2015 reading the number one Alexander Hamilton biography ever written, by famed writer and now Broadway famous Ron Chernow. This along with the Hamilton Broadway show has invigorated my passion for American Revolutionary War-era history, as well as the stories of the Founding Fathers, topics I’ve been interested in since an early childhood of social studies classes. I fell in love with the romantic side of it, the battle for democracy against the oppressive monarchy, as well as the harsh reality of early warfare. I also gained a major crush on the Marquis de Lafayette, America’s adopted son and favorite fighting Frenchman – but, hey, so did George Washington, so you can’t blame me.
It also helped that my favorite musical is the quintessential American story 1776, which kickstarted my historical crush on Benjamin Franklin as well as an appreciation for the “obnoxious and disliked” John Adams. But the one who really ending up standing out the most was the redheaded, quiet powerhouse with a quill, who played the violin and delivered the document that would declare an entire nation’s independence: Thomas Jefferson.