billmartin

History Lives

For me, history is always alive. Bringing it to life is what I do for a living in my novels. But we often hear that in America, we don't really honor and certainly don't study our history. Well, I beg to differ. As proof, let me offer a few experiences that my wife and I have enjoyed over the last two weeks.

First, my friend, Randy Clutter, general manager of The Fireplace Restaurant in Brookline, Mass., invited us to enjoy their "Cuisine of the American Presidents" menu. For the month of July, they've been celebrating Independence by offering some of the favorite foods of the presidents who "were born, raised, or vacationed annually" in New England. It's a great menu and a great restaurant at any time of the year, but how cool it is to sample items like George W. Bush's Scallop and Corn Chowder, Calvin Coolidge's Melon Salad, John F. Kennedy's Citrus-Glazed Salmon, or William Howard Taft's favorite dessert, Deacon Porter's Hat with Hard Sauce and Vanilla Whipped Cream.  Go crazy. We did. And there's something deeper going on here, too. Randy and owner/chef Jim Solomon are students of American history, lovers of the American story, and a menu like this reflects their passion as well as their understanding of a truth that historical novelists figure out early on: you'll find history in the grand movements and big moments, but you'll also find it in the details, like what people wore, what they read for fun, what they ate. Knowing that JFK liked citrus-glazed salmon  may not give you much insight into the Cuban Missile Crisis, but it will bring you a bit closer to him as a human being. And that's one of the things that the study of history aims to do.

Then, this past weekend, my wife and I drove our daughter to Virginia to start a new job. On Saturday, we went into DC to enjoy one of the grandest sights in America, the Capitol Mall on a warm summer night. Thousands of people were out. The breeze off the Potomac was cool and refreshing after the daytime heat and humidity. And the white monuments seemed to vibrate in the darkness. So we made our way to the rise of land on which the Washington Monument stands. From that vantage point, we could admire, in a single sweep of an eye, some of our most potent national images: the Capitol Dome to the east, the  Jefferson Memorial to the south, the White House to the north, the Lincoln Memorial and the handsome new World War II Memorial to the west. I was reminded of something Walt Whitman said just after the Captiol Dome was completed in 1865: "I like looking at it. It comforts me somehow." I feel the same way about the whole Mall.

And the next day, we drove up into the Catoctin Mountain region to visit one of the most hallowed plots of ground in America: the battlefield at Antietam. On Sept. 17, 1862, the Army of Northern Virginia and the Army of the Potomac clashed here. It was the bloodiest day in American history. By nightfall, there were close to 23,000 casualties. Today, this scene of horror in the rolling farmland of northwest Maryland is one of the most peaceful and beautiful places I've ever visited, and perhaps the most unspoiled of Civil War battlefields.

I have to admit that even though I wrote about the battle in Harvard Yard, I had never visited Antietam before. I'm happy to report, however, that my research, culled mostly from the Regimental History of the 20th Mass., was accurate.   

But you should go there, whether you're writing about it or not. Follow the superb National Park Service self-guided driving tour. Ask one of the volunteers or rangers a question and settle down for fifteen minutes of riveting narrative. Stand at the edge of the north woods, the first Federal postion, and look south over the cornfield toward the Dunker Church. Hear the wind whisper through the tall green stalks, and perhaps you'll hear the voices of the men who clashed there so long ago. Or maybe you'll hear echoes of the Emancipation Proclamation, which Lincoln issued after this battle, the first real Federal victory in the war.   

And don't let anyone tell you that history does not live in this country. It's thriving... in monuments to the principles that emerged from its struggles and in places like Antietam, where the struggles unfolded. It's even alive in some of our restaurants.

In America, we get up in the morning and go to work and solve our problems"

An author who has spent most of his career writing about American history should not let the two hundred and thirty-second anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence go by without comment. So, happy Fourth of July to all my readers.

I don't spend a lot of time analyzing the themes in my work. I'm too busy worrying about character development, plot dynamics, and the way that sentences fit together. And that's as it should be. But when I look back at the my books - eight now, with a ninth sometime next year - I can see what motivates me in writing them: By bringing history to life, by showing readers the way in which American have confronted their problems in the past, I can offer a lesson and a bit of inspiration. If our American forerunners could confront and overcome the challenges that faced them, we can face and survive whatever is coming at us. While the tasks that history sets for us might not be easy, we've always been able to endure and usually to thrive.

Sometimes we've done it through acts of courage, sometimes in moments of brilliant inspiration, but often, American success has been the product of brains, ingenuity, and simple hard work. Hence the title of this post. It's a line of dialogue that I put into the mouth of a character early in The Lost Constitution, and I liked it so much that I turned it into an echoing device that resonates through the whole book.  Considering the number of letters I've gotten about it, that line has resonated with a lot of readers, too.

But back for a moment to acts of courage. Those men in Philadelphia pledged their lives and "sacred honor" to the cause. By signing the Declaration, they were commiting an act of treason. So they had to cooperate, despite their differences, because, as Ben Franklin said, "If we do not hang together,we will most certainly hang separately."

We face plenty of issues that divide us today. For example, even after Justice Scalia wrote the majority opinion in the Second Amendment case (a decision that I agree with, and one that I read closely, since The Lost Constitution follows a ficitonal attempt to repeal the amendment), I'm still arguing with friends about it. And now we're living through a long presidential campaign in which the differences between the candiates will grow ever wider in the months ahead (on taxes, on deficit reduction, on energy policy, on the war in Iraq). Presidential scholar David Gergen has warned that the next president, no matter who he is, will face the most serious set of challenges "since FDR took office in 1933."

As we confront these challenges, we should remember the wisdom of Benjamin Franklin in Philladelphia in 1776. Then we should go to work and solve our problems.

Does the term 'Number Thirty-Four Extended' mean anything to you?

That's the question that my hard-working Forge publicist Patty Garcia asked me the other day. She had just seen the upcoming New York Times Best Seller List, and The Lost Constitution had made it onto the extended list at #34.

And to answer her question, yes, I know what it means. And it really means a lot. It means that people out there are buying my latest novel in good numbers. And that's one of the reasons that a writer writes - to reach an audience. We set out to divert, to educate, to enrich our readers. We set out to create, as the novelist John Gardener once wrote, "a fictional dream," then we invite readers into the dream.

In the course of twenty-eight years of being in print, I've only seen people reading my books in public places, like subways or beaches, a few times. The process of writing, of creating the ficitonal dream, is like a performance without an audience. And the reader's experience is likewise a private business. From my brain to the reader's, with a brief stop on the pritned page. That's how it works.

Si it's fair to say that writers don't get to hear a lot of applause. We like to hear from readers via mail or e-mail, and we like to know that one of our books is flirting with the New York Times Best Seller List. My first novel reached as high as #4 and several others have made the list, too, but no matter where a book debuts or how high it reaches, the news never gets old. It's great to win awards and enjoy the respect of your peers, but there's nothing like knowing that the people you wrote the book for are finding it and, you hope, enjoying it.

The Lost Constitution - Fun and Satisfaction

A novel about the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Second Amendment, the Boston Red Sox in the World Series, and the history of New England from Newport, Rhode Island to the White Mountains of New Hampshire to the great pine forests of Maine? That's a lot of narrative. And it's a quite a journey from Shays's Rebellion in 1786 to Fenway Park in the twenty-first century, but it's the kind of trip that my readers have come to expect of me, and it's what I set out to write in The Lost Constitution.

Since the hardcover publication last May, a lot of readers have taken the journey with me, and a lot of them have had as much fun reading as I did writing.

And that word, fun, is important. I have a sign over my desk: This is supposed to be fun. If it isn't, you won't want to read it. The characters must be interesting and likeable (or hateable). The plot must give us a sense that we're getting somewhere. It should accelerate toward a climax that leaves us breathless. And we should have a sense of satisfaction when it's over.

And there's another word that matters: satisfaction. A good story should operate on more than just that visceral level. Sure, I like to keep you turning pages and wondering what happens next, but I know that for the reader - and the writer - the real satisfaction of spending time with a story comes in the reflection. If you're left with something to think about when it's over, if you find yourself speculating about the fictional future of those fictional characters I created for you, then I've done my job. And we're both satisfied.

After you read The Lost Constitution, you might reflect on the stubbornness of the farmers who rebelled with Daniel Shays, or on the absolute bravery of the men of the 20th Maine who defended the Constitution by marching into the Confederate guns at Fredericksburg, or on the committment of the women who helped to push through the Nineteenth Amendment, which extended voting rights to women.

You might also appreciate the motivations of Peter Fallon. This is the third novel in which he has been the main character (Back Bay (1980) and Harvard Yard (2003) were the others). He's a dealer in rare books and documents. He lives in the present, but he believes that history matters, that we are a product of the past, of the grand movements of history and of the decisions of ancestors we don't even know. And if we can understand our history, maybe we can understand something about ourselves. That's why he hunts for The Lost Constitution.

And maybe that's why you should read it.

It's a modern thriller wrapped up in a historical novel. It's a journey through American history and a chase across modern New England. It' a page-turner that's plenty of fun. And it opens with the line "I am a good American." Then it defines the term by showing you good Americans in action. And meeting them, I hope, will bring you the kind of satisfaction that it brought me in the writing.

The Lost Constitution arrives in paperback this week, on June 3 to be exact. And I got to thinking about fun and satisfaction when I held this version for the first time. It has shiny silver lettering embossed into the cover. It's in the new Premium Mass Market format, larger than the old mass market format but not so large as the trade paperback, easier on the eyes than one, easier on the pocketbook than the other. It's a nice package, if I do say so myself. Whenever one of my books takes a new form, whether it's the hardcover or the audio version or maybe even a movie, it's another moment of satisfaction. I know I'll be reaching new readers. And I hope that they'll have as much fun on the journey as I did.