“The only thing more dangerous than an idea is a belief.”
So begins a great book by the hilarious and thought-provoking Sarah Vowell. [By the way, one wonders, with that name, if dear Sarah had any choice but to become someone who uses words for a living. Perhaps the only other alternative would have been letter-turner for Wheel of Fortune, but that's been occupied for some time.]
As a lifelong student of history, I’ve read countless books – everything from biographies to academic treatises to oral histories and beyond. The only fan letter I’ve ever sent in my life was to William Manchester, a best-selling author then esconced in academia at Wesleyan University (He wrote back!). I love trying to imagine the lives and times of people throughout history, but let’s be honest, as a literary genre, history books don’t fly off the shelves like the Koonz, Brown, Patterson and King’s of the world. They’re often dense, rarely humorous, and require a certain commitment to trying to understand the context in which events occurred.
Loyal readers are well aware of my fondness for all things Rhode Island, and as I watched “The Daily Show” one evening I was fascinated by an interview they had with Sarah Vowell. Apparently the subject of her latest book was the Puritans who founded the city of Boston (as opposed to the more famous Puritans of Plymouth Rock fame), and she was rip-roaringly funny in her interview talking about the characters populating her work. Once she mentioned Roger Williams, she had me hooked. She had attained the nexus of my interests – humor, history and Rhode Island.
Vowell’s “The Wordy Shipmates” is a history book I found to be truly unique. Within the first ten pages I found myself laughing out loud. And this is a book about the Puritans! The incongruity of that struck me as wildly unexpected, and the book turned quite literally into a page-turner.
Her use of modern references to help relate the reader to 17th century colonial America is exceptionally well done. Where else would you see a thoughtful discourse on these subjects which incorporates not only detailed examination of the language used by those living at the time (John Winthrop, John Cotton and more) with the 1960′s-era television sitcoms “Bewitched” and “The Brady Bunch”?
She thoroughly deconstructs the origins of the “city on a hill” reference so often quoted by American politicians, and depending on your political leanings, scathingly indicts those who see the United States as some sort of moral beacon with a God-given purpose to go forth and help others, often to their extreme detriment.
Using the Pequot indians as a glaring example of our misplaced moral rectitude, Vowell retraces the steps from arriving on the shores of the new world buffeted with words preaching Christian charity to burning Pequot women and children alive in order to secure the newly developed country for the Puritans’ particular views.
Disturbing in parts, compelling and imminently readable throughout, Vowell’s novel achieves the most basic goal of reading history – drawing direct lines from the past to the present.
The heretic Anne Hutchinson’s trial becomes an opportunity to highlight the disparity of logic between the Puritan authorities and a free thinker – and then is brought forward to modern times with the identification of two descendents of the trial participants: John Kerry, a descendent of John Winthrop, chief accuser of Hutchinson, and George W. Bush, the descendent of the thoughful and free-thinking Hutchinson. Yes, the irony can be thick when reading history, and Vowell’s excellent prose makes it easy to reach.
I encourage everyone to pick up this book, I doubt you’ll be disappointed. For humor value, historical context for many current situations (e.g. Iraq) and lessons to be learned for the future, Vowell’s book meets the bar.
