Spotty and derivative.
Gitlin (Journalism and Sociology/Columbia Univ.) discusses modern politics, the media and activist intellectuals in seven disjointed essays.
Besides two brief introductory chapters, there are few clues about how these pieces, all previously published in some form, fit together. Gitlin (Letters to a Young Activist, 2003, etc.) pines for a lost American era in which books guided the national dialogue and the media strived to report serious, objective news. That environment supported three of his intellectual heroes—David Riesman, C. Wright Mills and Irving Howe—and Gitlin argues that their insights improved American discourse in real time. He marvels at the popularity of The Lonely Crowd, Riesman's book about how America's obsession with consumption spawned a more selfish national character. Mills is portrayed as a pioneering and thoughtful leader of American radicalism, and Gitlin thinks the sociologist would be disappointed with the emotionalized and choreographed discourse in contemporary America. Gitlin sometimes offers opaque, grand declarations with little support. While arguing that stable politics can be boring, he declares that when politics respects limits, “it slides towards the tedious—which is why, by way of compensation, we require art.” Later he announces, “The media have been in the habit of smuggling the habit of living with the media.” The author concludes with the title essay, about patriotism and sacrifice after 9/11. Gitlin shares his feelings as a New Yorker and a liberal intellectual who dutifully hung his American flag, but who also recalled the anger he felt towards the same symbol during Vietnam. He criticizes “cowed” Democrats, the “fundamentalist left” and President Bush's “smug” ineptitude, and he calls for a new liberal approach to patriotism, marked by national sacrifice. But he gives far less attention to addressing this than he does to offering criticisms of existing methods.
Spotty and derivative.Pub Date: Jan. 30, 2006
ISBN: 0-231-12492-9
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Columbia Univ.
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2005
For Howard Zinn, long-time civil rights and anti-war activist, history and ideology have a lot in common. Since he thinks that everything is in someone's interest, the historian—Zinn posits—has to figure out whose interests he or she is defining/defending/reconstructing (hence one of his previous books, The Politics of History). Zinn has no doubts about where he stands in this "people's history": "it is a history disrespectful of governments and respectful of people's movements of resistance." So what we get here, instead of the usual survey of wars, presidents, and institutions, is a survey of the usual rebellions, strikes, and protest movements. Zinn starts out by depicting the arrival of Columbus in North America from the standpoint of the Indians (which amounts to their standpoint as constructed from the observations of the Europeans); and, after easily establishing the cultural disharmony that ensued, he goes on to the importation of slaves into the colonies. Add the laborers and indentured servants that followed, plus women and later immigrants, and you have Zinn's amorphous constituency. To hear Zinn tell it, all anyone did in America at any time was to oppress or be oppressed; and so he obscures as much as his hated mainstream historical foes do—only in Zinn's case there is that absurd presumption that virtually everything that came to pass was the work of ruling-class planning: this amounts to one great indictment for conspiracy. Despite surface similarities, this is not a social history, since we get no sense of the fabric of life. Instead of negating the one-sided histories he detests, Zinn has merely reversed the image; the distortion remains.
Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1979
ISBN: 0061965588
Page Count: 772
Publisher: Harper & Row
Review Posted Online: May 26, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1979
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.
Maya Angelou is a natural writer with an inordinate sense of life and she has written an exceptional autobiographical narrative which retrieves her first sixteen years from "the general darkness just beyond the great blinkers of childhood."
Her story is told in scenes, ineluctably moving scenes, from the time when she and her brother were sent by her fancy living parents to Stamps, Arkansas, and a grandmother who had the local Store. Displaced they were and "If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat." But alternating with all the pain and terror (her rape at the age of eight when in St. Louis With her mother) and humiliation (a brief spell in the kitchen of a white woman who refused to remember her name) and fear (of a lynching—and the time they buried afflicted Uncle Willie under a blanket of vegetables) as well as all the unanswered and unanswerable questions, there are affirmative memories and moments: her charming brother Bailey; her own "unshakable God"; a revival meeting in a tent; her 8th grade graduation; and at the end, when she's sixteen, the birth of a baby. Times When as she says "It seemed that the peace of a day's ending was an assurance that the covenant God made with children, Negroes and the crippled was still in effect."
However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1969
ISBN: 0375507892
Page Count: 235
Publisher: Random House
Review Posted Online: May 14, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1969
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IN THE NEWS
SEEN & HEARD
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