Geoffrey C. Ward

This book was a rather painful one in the initial chapters, as it started with the author's own blood-thirsty shooting of wild animals around Delhi in his childhood days in the late 1950s- he was already 13 years old the ear I was born. Then when he visits again in 1984, he waxes eloquent on how the countryside has changed and all those happy theaters of his youthful escapades have been ravaged. Reading his account of his trigger-happy friends and utter blood-lust in the company of the rich show more and royally connected of Delhi, I can only thank my stars that I joined the forest service when this license to kill had been considerably curtailed and wildlife protection laws had been set in place under the patronage of Indira Gandhi. I don't think the author claims any tiger trophies himself, but one wonders at the utter lack of compunction of those, British and native, who revelled in killing thousands of completely unoffending and innocent creatures going about their lives in the jungle, some of them over a hundred tigers and leopards, including the vaunted Rajah of Sarguja who shot the last three cheetah cubs that his fellow-royals are now desperate to bring back. However, this initial falling out of sympathy with the blood-stained author should not prevent us from appreciating his skillful marshalling of history, his own personal experiences, and his empathy with the conservationists (some of them former hunters of big game) who campaigned for the protection of the tiger and its habitat. show less

I have long regarded Franklin Roosevelt as one of the greatest American presidents, but I don't think I fully appreciated him as a person until I read Ward's book while I was in college. While the preceding volume, [b:Before the Trumpet|641176|Before the Trumpet The Young Franklin Roosevelt|Geoffrey C. Ward|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/book/50x75-a91bf249278a81aabab721ef782c4a74.png|3344880], is good, it's this second one, which covers FDR's life from his marriage to Eleanor show more Roosevelt to his successful campaign for the governorship of New York in 1928, that is truly brilliant. Credit is due not just to Ward's skills as a writer, but the insight he brings to FDR's life as a fellow polio victim. After reading it it's impossible not to appreciate the role the infliction of the disease played in making FDR who he was as president. show less

Goosebump-inducing. Absolutely stunning. If I could give it 6 stars, I would.

This is the companion book to what was possibly the best documentary ever made, Ken Burns 11.5 hour epic “The Civil War”. Burns spent five years researching and producing it – one year longer than the war itself took – pouring through thousands of photographs, interviewing prominent Civil War historians such as Shelby Foote and James McPherson, and paying attention to the both the larger historical context show more for the War and at the same time poignant personal stories. Among other things, he invented what came to be known as the “Ken Burns effect”, the slow zooming and panning across photos, which has since been adopted by many other filmmakers.

The book does the documentary justice. It contains over 500 photographs and illustrations and is truly beautiful. There are of course all the “big” things you’d expect: the genius of Lincoln as politician, preserver of the Union, commander-in-chief, and orator. The pompous and overly cautious General McClellan, who after being replaced would run against Lincoln in the election of 1864. (As an aside, the picture of their last meeting that Burns includes says everything about the personalities and relationship Lincoln and McClellan had.) The public turning out to watch the First Battle of Bull Run from a nearby hill, as if it were theater. The horrors of slavery and the blatant racism of the 19th century, set against the gentility of the Southern way of life. The horrors of battlefield carnage, set against the incredible bravery and valor of soldiers who sometimes found themselves fighting on the opposite side of relatives or friends from before the war. The genius of the Southern Generals like Robert E. Lee of course, but also Stonewall Jackson and Nathan Bedford Forrest, who despite having a two to one disadvantage in armed forces had the South within a battle or two of improbably winning the war.

American men of letters are here: Herman Melville recognizing the significance of Jackson’s death in his poems, one ending, “By the edge of those wilds Stonewall had charged – but the year and the Man were gone.” Walt Whitman, after having worked in the appalling Union hospitals, saying “Future years will never know the seething hell and the black infernal background, the countless minor scenes and interiors of the secession war; and it is best that they should not. The real war will never get in the books.”

If that’s true, Burns must surely come close. There is no way to do his work justice in a review, but I’ll close with two scenes that have stuck to me all these years after having seen the documentary and read the book. They are indelible and unforgettable.

The first, after the battle of Fredericksburg on December 11, 1862, former college professor Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain (and then commander of the 20th Maine), hearing the wounded at night on the freezing battlefield:
“But out of that silence…rose new sounds more appalling still…a strange ventriloquism, of which you could not locate the source, a smothered moan…as if a thousand discords were flowing together into a key-note weird, unearthly, terrible to hear and bear, yet startling with its nearness; the writhing concord broken by cries for help…some begging for a drop of water, some calling on God for pity; and some on friendly hands to finish what the enemy had so horribly begun; some with delirious, dreamy voices murmuring loved ones names, as if the dearest were bending over them; and underneath, all the time, the deep bass note from closed lips too hopeless, or too heroic to articulate their agony.”

…and then after scraping out shallow graves for the dead, and looking up to see the Northern Lights dancing in the winter sky. “Who would not pass on as they did,” he asked, “dead for their country’s life, and lighted to burial by the meteor splendors of their native sky?”

And the second moment, this letter, written by Major Sullivan Ballou to his wife a week before the first battle of Bull Run:

“July the 14th, 1861
Camp Clark, Washington

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more...

I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt…

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar—that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness…

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the brightest day and in the darkest night… always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again…”

Burns then notes that Sullivan Ballou was killed at the first battle of Bull Run. show less

Very well written, but I found the narcissism and irresponsible behavior of Ferdinand Ward and his missionary parents was too unbearable (and reminiscent of Donald Trump) to finish reading this book. Even skipping the middle section of the book to reach his imprisonment offered to relief; he continued to ruin the lives of those around him.