A Summer Bookworm

I make a slight detour from geopolitics to review some books with a historical flair I read over the Summer.

 

The time has now come to confess an embarrassing fact about myself: I have never been much of a book reader.  Even though I read journals and articles about geopolitics on a daily basis, opening a hardcover or paperback book was rarely on my priority list.  If you guessed technology as the culprit for the sad existence of this hole in my life, you would be correct.  While the internet allows users to constantly click around through several websites of all kinds instantaneously, an old-fashioned book, as it has been for millennia, remains fixed and stable.  While I thankfully was old enough to experience a childhood before smartphones, I have still fallen victim to this unescapable and irreversible trend of the 21^st century.  However, in the summer of 2024, I finally found an escape.  I read not one, not two, but three highly engaging stories told from a historical perspective.

Last April, I attended a political fundraiser in Nashville for a candidate for the United States Senate to represent the state of Montana.  During that dinner, he discussed the history of Montana, particularly the rise of the Montana’s labor movement which fought against hazardous and unsanitary conditions in the mines that long powered Montana’s economy.  It was in this context where I was introduced to the book Fire and Brimstone by Montana native Michael Punke.  Along with writing Fire and Brimstone and serving as the US representative to the World Trade Organization in Geneva, Punke wrote a book whose namesake film you might remember: The Revenant: a Novel of Revenge.  While I have no intention of reliving the raw 3-hour experience where Leonardo DiCaprio is attacked by a bear and crawls his way to revenge through brutal conditions, I do intend to describe what I thought of Fire and Brimstone.

                In 1917, Butte, Montana was grimy and filthy mining town filled with a Cantina Bar of itinerant miners, including many from Eastern Europe with minimal knowledge of English.  To create even more intrigue, in 1917, World War 1 was raging in Europe, leading to all sorts of ethnic tensions which local authorities struggled to contain.  Worse, local newspapers did everything to sensationalize and fuel them.  It was in this combustible environment where the Granite Mountain Mine caught fire, condemning 168 miners to their deaths, mostly from smoke inhalation.  It was this tragedy that galvanized Montana’s long-suppressed labor movement and ultimately led to the domination of mineworker unions that lasted in Montana’s politics for decades.  Fire and Brimstone was a highly engaging read I could not put down.  Not only did the book have a flair of geopolitics and the macro historical trends of the time, it was also extremely well-written and perfectly entertaining.  No wonder Punke’s other novel attracted Hollywood’s attention. 

The second book I read, the only one with fictional characters, was by Nashville-based author Ruta Sepetys, entitled I Must Betray You about the Romanian Revolution of 1989.  A complete page-turner, I read the last 100 pages all on the same day.  Not only did I Must Betray You give a raw, albeit fictional, account of the tumultuous final days of 1989 that saw the end of Romania’s hardline socialist regime, it also expressed in brutal detail all the hardships of living in a country where every conversation could be monitored and shortages of basic goods were rampant.  My personal affinity for Eastern Europe only confirmed my satisfaction with choosing this book.  However, you don’t need an extensive background in Eastern Europe to read it, rather you just need an interest in history and social sciences.

The final book I read was Bret Baier’s (with the help of a ghostwriter) To Rescue the Republic: Ulysses S. Grant, the Fragile Union, and the Crisis of 1876.  Contrary to history’s reputation of General and later President Grant as a drunk and crook who only found himself in the nation’s highest office through sheer luck, Baier painted a picture of a sensitive yet daring man whose bold offensives shortened a bloody war that, had it lasted much longer, would have likely caused irreparable damage to the Union Grant dedicated his life to preserving.  I also learned that Grant never even wanted the presidency but was effectively forced into the job.  As for the drinking, Ulysses S. Grant was known for not holding down his liquor well, which gave him the undeserved reputation as a drunk.  However, no real drunk could write down his entire life story on his literal deathbed in the way Grant did.  In short, To Rescue the Republic: Ulysses S. Grant, the Fragile Union, and the Crisis of 1876 gives a sober lesson to the reader on not succumbing to popular narratives before learning all the facts.

In conclusion, I feel most satisfied how I could finally overcome my irrational aversion to sitting down and reading books, so long as they match with my passion for history and politics.  Hopefully in the future I can enjoy more books as much as I enjoyed these three.