The Obama White House and the Supreme Court by Jeffrey Toobin

Tzer Island does not usually review essays, not does it usually publish reviews on Tuesdays. Having accepted the opporunity to read some essays published in the Vintage Short series, however, I've decided to review them this week and next on Tuesday and Thursay. Vintage Shorts are available in digital format for about a buck.

Published by Vintage on October 4, 2016

I like Jeffrey Toobin, but The Obama White House and the Supreme Court is an odd essay. The essay consists of excerpts from Toobin’s book The Oath, which shares its subtitle with the name of this essay. Unfortunately, the essay has almost nothing to do with its title.

Toobin’s essay begins with a description of the legal hand-wringing that took place after Chief Justice Roberts bungled the oath of office when he swore in Obama. Toobin provides a mini-biography of Roberts and notes ways in which Roberts and Obama are similar and different. That’s followed by a brief portrait of Obama as a community organizer and as a Harvard law student who was elected to the top position at Harvard Law Review.

Next comes a discussion of Obama’s view that politicians rather than courts are better positioned to advance the rights of disadvantaged Americans, a point of view that shaped his decision to go into politics in addition to teaching law and working at a civil rights law firm. Near the end, we hear about the Supreme Court’s evolving views on the Second Amendment and Obama’s evolving view on gun control as he moved from being a state senator to a United States senator. Then the essay ends.

All of this is interesting, but the essay has a piecemeal feel. The disparate components are never integrated into a larger whole. Presumably Toobin provides that integration in The Oath, but when the book was chopped into an essay, no effort was made to find a central theme that would bind the essay’s parts together. And apart from a late reference to gun control and an early discussion of Roberts that has little to do with his work on the Supreme Court, the essay tells us almost nothing about the Obama White House and the Supreme Court. That seems strange, given the essay’s title.

Toobin’s prose is always clear and lively, so the essay makes for easy reading. It also makes for informative reading, but it doesn’t make for purposeful reading, given the absence of a unifying theme. I guess the essay might be meant as a teaser to encourage readers to buy the book, but readers who are interested in the subject matter suggested by the title would be better served by skipping the essay altogether.

RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS

Words on the Move by John McWhorter

Published by Henry Holt and Co. on September 6, 2016

John McWhorter is spot on when he says that people don’t like the fact that language changes. I’m one of them. We learn the meaning or pronunciation of a word, or rules of grammar, and we don’t want to concede that what we know to be “wrong” has suddenly become right, or at least acceptable. I grind my teeth when I hear someone using impact as a verb, but I have come to accept that people are going to do so whether I like it or not.

As irksome as the truth might be (“Novelty is unsettling,” the book tells us), McWhorter is right: language is mutable. A living language will inevitably acquire new words, change the meaning of old ones, and turn the rules of grammar upside down. I remind myself of that every time I hear someone complain about alleged faults in word usage or grammar (quite a few of those complaints are aired in nasty comments to Amazon reviews). If you think (as I do) that people frequently and persistently misuse the word “literally,” that’s because you have not (as I have not) accepted that the meaning of “literally” has changed. McWhorter tells us that we just need to deal with it. Sadly enough, he’s right.

As cranky as I can get about unsettling changes in the meaning of words, I fully support McWhorter’s mission, which is to make readers understand that the meaning of a word is determined by how people are using it right now, not by dictionary definitions. It takes dictionaries some time to catch up. Dictionaries like American Heritage, where panels of “experts” decide what a word means, strike me as trying to impose authoritarian order on the democratic, or possibly anarchic, evolution of language.

I totally make fun of the way younger people use the word totally, but language belongs to the young as much as it is the domain of stuffy old farts like me. McWhorter explains that totally now implies fellowship or shared sentiment, so “what looks like slackjawed devolution actually contains a degree of sophistication.” He also explains that words of acknowledgement, including totally, are among the most likely to change.

Sometimes changes in language are eminently sensible. Other than high school English teachers, who really cares if a writer splits an infinitive or ends a sentence with a preposition? Good writers have always known that some rules are made to be broken, at least when breaking them makes sentences easier to read. As McWhorter also recognizes, that doesn’t mean rules should not be taught (even rules that serve no real purpose), but the world doesn’t come to an end when a rule is so commonly broken that it dissolves into dust.

A chapter on grammar struck me as less interesting than other chapters, simply because indefinite articles and other words of grammar are less interesting than nouns and verbs. A chapter on pronunciation is a little too wonkish, but parts of that chapter are illuminating. Most readers are familiar with the vowel shift, but McWhortle explains how vowels are still shifting (something we might perceive as regional accents). Does any word have a proper pronunciation? Since the word will probably be pronounced differently a couple of hundred years from now, fretting about what’s “proper” seems pointless to people who are not social strivers or using pronunciation to signal their place in society.

More entertaining is a chapter that explains how new words come into existence. Some are obvious (camera + recorder = camcorder), others not so much (flash + gush = flush). It’s also possible to make new words by changing the accented syllable (e.g., the transition of “suspect” from verb to noun). The last chapter explains why younger people obsessively use the word like and why older people, anal tendencies notwithstanding, should resign themselves to the evolutionary nature of language.

McWhorter writes in a lively, amusing, energetic style, eschewing jargon or explaining it when he needs to discuss the finer points of linguistics. He introduces his personality into every chapter, making even dull material engaging. His wide-ranging discussion touches on Black English, emoticons, and a variety of other subjects. He explains the evolution of scores of words, many drawn from Shakespeare, and then explains why Shakespeare’s plays are so difficult for a modern reader to understand (at last, it’s okay to admit that you’re often baffled by Shakespeare’s meaning). Any fan of words, including stuffy curmudgeons, should find Words on the Move to be educational and amusing.

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Best. State. Ever. by Dave Barry

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on September 6, 2016

Dave Barry set about rehabilitating (or destroying, if that’s even possible) the image of Florida, which is perceived (in Barry's words) as “being a subtropical festival of stupid.” To make his point, Barry chronicles a number of events (some of which actually happened) in which Floridians did things that were stupid, or at least weird. Those events have made Florida “the Joke State,” the state everyone loves to mock. Barry took on this project because Florida’s critics live in states that are equally mockable, a fact he proves by defining the shortcomings of a good number of states, particularly Illinois and New York.

To extoll the good things about Florida, Barry drove around and wrote about the things he found, most of which are pretty stupid, although (as Barry sees it) in a good way. After introductory chapters that I thought were hilarious, the bulk of the book rates only as amusing on the Dave Barry laugh-o-meter.

Highlights of the book include: a politically correct tribute to Miami’s smoking hot women (not that, as an evolved male who does not objectify women, he would ever notice them); a critique of senior line dancers at The Villages, a retirement community that celebrates its lack of diversity; an incursion into LIV, an outrageously expensive Miami nightclub; and bar-hopping in Key West, a city that is renowned for its Jimmy Buffet clones and naked people who should leave their clothes on.

Extended discussions of sketchy tourist attractions (skunk apes, the Weeki Wachi underwater theater, concrete dinosaurs, Spongeorama, Gatorland, and the spiritualist community of Cassadaga) are less funny, if only because so much time is devoted to narrating things that Barry saw, rather than mocking them. Or perhaps he’s just too nice, and too genuinely appreciative of kitsch, to give ripoff roadside attractions the skewering they have earned. Still, he does mock the Cassadaga spiritualists, making that one of the better parts of the book. I also enjoyed his celebration of manliness during a visit to Lock & Load, where visitors get to shoot machineguns, an activity that has sensibly been declared illegal in nearly every other non-military context.

This isn’t as funny as vintage Dave Barry, but it’s still funny. It’s even funnier if you’ve traveled in Florida and can attest to the wisdom of Barry’s observations.

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The First Congress by Fergus M. Bordewich

Published by Simon & Schuster on February 9, 2016

Before the first Congress convened, the nation was deeply in debt, providing that some things never change. Without a central currency, commerce was haphazard, and in the absence of a manufacturing base, there was little enough to buy. Even convening the House and Senate proved to be a challenge, given the distances that many members needed to travel.

Fergus Bordewich takes the reader through the work of the first Congress as it progressed from month to month. Bordewich offers insight into the political issues, the politicians, and the political realities of the time. It’s interesting to see how many precedents set by the first legislators remain unchanged. Of particular interest are Bordewich’s descriptions of John Adams’ botched attempt to turn the vice presidency into a meaningful office, culminating in “a lasting template for vice-presidential inconsequence.”

James Madison, a key figure in the drive to form the Constitution, was the driving force behind the accomplishments of the first Congress. He labored tirelessly to enact the Bill of Rights and to assure that the government would have revenues with which to operate (“money is power,” he wrote, a truth in every age). He even wrote Washington’s inaugural address. Then he wrote the House of Representatives’ letter thanking Washington for the address. Then he wrote Washington’s reply. Madison was also instrumental in beating back the anti-Federalists, who seemed incapable of accepting defeat (and still do) even though their crabbed notion of “state’s rights” would have undermined the future of the United States.

Other notable accomplishments of the first Congress included creation of the Treasury Department and the levying of tariffs and duties so that the government would be able to finance its ambitious projects. Those included the federal court system, a national bank, a census, protection of patents and copyrights, the Department of Foreign Affairs (now the State Department), the Department of War (now the Department of Defense), the negotiation of treaties with Indians that would permit the nation’s expansion, and a standing Army that would permit expansion notwithstanding the desires of Indians.

It’s interesting how many issues that vexed the first Congress continue to divide politicians. Is it better to allow free trade or should some imports be restricted or taxed? Should “friendly” nations receive favored trade status? What is the fairest way for government to raise revenues? To what degree should presidential power be subject to congressional oversight? Is it wise for the federal government to finance itself by incurring debt? Under what conditions should new immigrants become citizens?

It’s also interested to read about the colonial hatred of lawyers (something that hasn’t changed much in the intervening centuries). Yet lawyers did much of the nuts-and-bolts work of the first Congress, including the creation of the federal judiciary. Oliver Ellsworth, for example, proposed to give diversity jurisdiction to federal courts, allowing the citizen of one state to sue the citizen of another state in federal court, thus minimizing “home-field advantage” by taking cases away from state courts that were too often biased. Ellsworth also thought federal courts could manage the subtle distinction between privateering (which helped fund the government) and piracy, which was frowned upon.

Other important questions were debated and resolved by the First Congress, including the president’s right to fire his appointments to executive offices without congressional approval and the apportionment of congressional districts. Madison’s heroic effort to enact the Bill of Rights gets well-deserved attention, and includes some interesting tidbits that are not mentioned in a recently published book (The Bill of Rights) that covers the same ground.

In hindsight, the first Congress was not perfect. It condoned the massacre of Indians even as it entered into the first treaty with an Indian tribe. It did not abolish slavery. Bordewich devotes a couple of chapters to the shameful pro-slavery arguments that prevailed (which Ben Franklin satirically gutted just before his death). The debate about where to locate the capital was driven by real estate speculations, including George Washington and many congressmen. How to deal with governmental debt incurred prior to ratification of the Constitution was also marred by conflicts of interest. Still, Bordewich makes clear that the achievements of the first Congress were remarkable.

Bordewich writes in a clear voice that falls somewhere between the liveliness of popular history and the dullness of academia. Bordewich adds color to the narrative by describing what elected representatives did with their free time (pumpkin beer!) and by revealing their personalities (except for George Washington, who had none). The First Congress offers a revealing look at a tumultuous period in American history and the post-revolutionary politicians who helped the newborn nation live up to its democratic ideals.

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The Ukrainian and Russian Notebooks by Igort

First published in separate volumes in Italy in 2010 and 2011; published in translation in a combined volume by Simon & Schuster on April 26, 2016

The Ukrainian and Russian Notebooks is a collection of brief stories about Russia and Ukraine. Some are the stories of individuals. Some are the stories of eras. One is the story of land. Another is the story of radioactive land. The volume combines two separate notebooks, one devoted to Ukraine, one to Russia, but the stories necessarily overlap.

Some of the stories told in The Ukrainian and Russian Notebooks are almost like recordings of oral histories related by elderly survivors. An old woman talks about the Famine. An old man describes the hardships of his life during World War II and after Stalin. The stories combine to form a graphic modern history of two countries and their peoples told from deeply personal perspectives.

The notebook entries jump around in time and place. Some are repetitive. I suppose that’s the nature of a “notebook” format, so I don’t see the lack of organization or conciseness as a significant failing.

Both of the notebooks address the Ukrainian Famine of 1932-33 (one of the worst acts of genocide in modern history) and the earlier relocation/deportation of kulaks (property owners). Stalin regarded Ukrainian kulaks as class enemies, even if they only owned a couple of cows. Viewing self-sufficient farms as a threat to collectivist ideals, Stalin used the military to block the borders of Ukraine and to confiscate food, animals, and property. Millions people died of starvation or related disease during the forced famine. The exact number is both disputed and unknowable, and depends upon whether indirect deaths are counted (Igort adopts one of the highest estimates), but there is no dispute that the Ukrainian population suffered immensely as a result of Stalin’s policies.

Some stories of the famine are told by its survivors but other entries, less personal but all the more chilling because of their detachment, reproduce excerpts from official reports. The reports contain stark accounts of illness caused by eating rotting food and animal carcasses. Instances of cannibalism, the living eating the dead, are itemized by district.

A variety of perspectives capture life during the Second World War, during the reign of Khrushchev, and after the fall of communism. Interestingly, some of the people who tell their stories view life under Khrushchev as the high point of their national history, and view the fall of communism as a disaster. In the absence of a planned transition, prices skyrocketed, jobs were lost, and once productive fields were abandoned. Production was replaced by destitution. The fantasy that western nations have constructed around the fall of communism is far removed from the reality that Russians and Ukrainians have endured.

Igort describes the present Russia as a brutal “sham democracy.” He illustrates that belief with several entries that revolve around Anna Politkovskaya, who was murdered in 2006 for (in Igort’s view) speaking the truth about Chechnya. Igort writes of journalists and activists who have been gunned down, of Chechens who have been tortured and who have turned to terrorism in support of their cause, of Russian military violence that might well be defined as state-sponsored terrorism.

The art accompanying the texts is bleak. It gives the impression of an artist’s sketchbook. The art is well-suited to illustrate the stories that Igort tells. The best images are leafless trees, footprints in vast stretches of snow, symbolic expressions of lost hope.

The Notebooks are ambitious, perhaps too ambitious. When Igort writes about the scope of Russian history and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky he strays from the personal stories that he does best. I appreciate the desire to provide context, but the book seems scattered when Igort tries to look at the bigger picture. Still, as a graphic reminder of the suffering of Russians, Ukrainians, and Chechens in an oppressive system, Igort succeeds admirably.

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