Founding Brothers: A-

Let's begin with a silly question: who likes learning about the American Revolution? Anyone? Ok, let's get more specific: who likes the learning about the Founding Fathers, those sage like demigods who have evolved in the last 200 years to become eternal paragons of American sainthood? I think, and do correct me if I'm wrong, that most people feel sleepy when the topic of Revolutionary history is discussed. And let me just say that I feature myself proudly among these people. Or at least, I did before I read Joseph Ellis' transfixing, deliriously researched, and astutely grounded Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation. In Ellis' study of seven key figures of that early time in our Republic's history - Hamilton, Madison, Washington, Franklin, Adams, Jefferson, and Burr - the quaint and continual deconstruction of myth to man takes place over such a luxuriated well-written timespan that by the end, never again will you see our first Presidents in the same (sacred, shiny) light.

Our author begins with a tidy little preface - it is a quiet beginning and in retrospect a rather mundane introdution to such a deeply learned, fascinating literary voice - to outline the themes his book will espouse and discover pulsing throughtout the veins of our Revolutionary heroes. In no uncertain terms he makes the rather obvious, yet bold, claim that history as viewed then wasn't history at all; that what seemed certain to us, looking as we are through the pane of glass that is the last 200+ years, seemed more foreboding and improvised to them.
Following up this historical analysis is the book itself, seperated out over six vignettes of American history. It is these vignettes, Ellis says, that will cement to us all the true scope of the Revolution back then. Which is to say, there was no scope - except perhaps in Thomas Jefferson's mind. Well let me say, in no uncertain terms, that the vast rogue's gallery of crusty figures Ellis summons for his book prove his point and even more: they cement to us Ellis' talent as a historian of calm style and cool wit who turns past memories of hot days in a classroom into an exciting journey of surprising human depth.

He begins with the Hamilton-Burr duel. To those that don't know, it was a fatal contest of honor that resulted in Hamilton's death. The incident itself actually shares large portions of its screen time with other aspects of the showdown: Hamilton & Burr's respective political careers, their verbal war that lead to the gun battle, and the history of American dueling as a whole. These may seem odd puzzle pieces to fit together but they somehow are - in a fit of elegant writing that ties them all together by the image of that five-second clash (Hamilton's planned mis, Burr's un-planned hit). As historical dissections go, "The Duel" has more depth in its simple investigation than large portions of school-issued textbooks (plus, its fun to read!). Furthermore its the perfect opening act as it only hints at the discoveries to come: Jefferson's relationship to John Adams (a roller-coaster of a friendship), Washington's relationship to the public (a scarily eloof one), and Madison & Hamilton's relationships to the political scene (these two men could give Karl Rove a run for his money when it comes to brilliantly orchaestrated surges of political power) in addition to a few others.

Ellis launches into each of these new tales with relish and yet not losing a single drop of his cool demeanor and style. He sets up facts and fictions with straightforward no-nosense and his eventual conclusions (eluded to in the preface) are some tasty delights. It would be difficult for any writer, fiction or non, to match the divine experience of reading the twelve-year letterathon between Jefferson and Adams, a correspondence that started first as a reconcilliation following the party wars of the '90s and then evolved into a rumination on all the two had accomplished with the fledgling country. Their words speak for themselves, and Ellis lets them for the most part, but when the author does intrude it is only in the most elegant and un-intrusive of ways: to say with calm flourish that his points had been proven and his case won; that these weren't gods that planned our bloody uprsing, they were men of great ability and great flaws who were in the end capable of great humanity.

Finally though it isn't his separate stories that are the point, though they are arguably some of the more highly entertaining I've read, or even the understated thesis. No, the final point I think resides in the simple, easy, razor sharp rendering of Ellis' work; he has alchemized some of our greatest high school woes and boredoms into a supreme biography; a work of potent significance because it has done the impossible: it has grounded the Gods.