Making Book With the Candidates
Writing a book has pretty much become a prerequisite for running a presidential campaign, but writing an engaging book certainly has not. Even though some have left the campaign trail, all eight of the Democratic candidates remain in the hunt for royalties, although if amazon.com rankings are any indication Joe Lieberman and Dick Gephardt, in particular, can call off the dogs. For the moment, at least, Howard Dean and Wesley Clark have bragging rights.
Of course, there's not always a direct correlation between great sales and great prose. And that raises the question: If literary prowess was the yardstick by which voters chose their candidates, which of this group would get the nod? Here's the lowdown, from worst to best.
Al On America, by Al Sharpton (Kensington). The Democrat who launches the most memorable one-liners in presidential debates manages to make 283 pages of written words eminently forgettable. Even a co-author can't rescue this autobiographical exercise from reading like meandering stream of consciousness, the book's clichéd, staccato sentences bouncing like pinballs from one subject to another. Chapters unfold as if they've been arranged in random order, with the only unifying thread Sharpton's titanic ego: I know Jesse, Fidel, James Brown and just about everyone else. Included are prescriptions for America's problems, but they're tacked on almost as afterthoughts.
An Amazing Adventure: Joe and Hadassah's Personal Notes on the 2000 Campaign, by Joe and Hadassah Lieberman (Simon & Schuster). As road trips go, Lieberman's campaign quest of 2000 isn't quite the stuff of a Kerouac novel. In alternating passages written to play like dueling banjos, the senator and his wife serve up unremarkable reminiscences devoid of behind-the-scenes dope. The structure is so repetitive it feels as if the same words were transferred from page to page, then rearranged. Lieberman's views may have changed since that failed run for veep, but you'd never know it from this book.
An Even Better Place: America in the 21st Century, by Richard Gephardt (PublicAffairs). Until I stumbled into my local library, the lone copy of the former House minority leader's book, published in 1999, had never been checked out. Maybe that's because my neighbors are union members who, enamored by Gephardt's organized-labor plaudits, all own copies. Or perhaps it's because my neighbors would rather read something engaging. Accurately described elsewhere as "earnest," this book resonates when Gephardt writes about personal struggles, such as his young son's cancer. But confessional passages are lost amid uninspiring pap about threats to democracy, partisan bickering and well-meaning -- but not well-thought-out -- solutions.
A Call To Service: My Vision for a Better America, by John Kerry (Viking). The senator from Massachusetts may be partial to windsurfing and riding a Harley, but his literary style has the feel of a man who prefers checkers. In fact, this tome is so plodding it reads like a soporific stump speech. But there's more to Kerry than policy pronouncements, and medleys of personalized prose are interwoven throughout his six-part vision for curing the nation's ills. At times, these tales help neutralize that knock of Kerry the imperious. More often, these interludes read like the nonfiction equivalent of Hamburger Helper -- bundles of fluff designed to stretch campaign literature into a book.
A Prayer For America, by Dennis Kucinich (Thunder's Mouth Press). Kucinich doesn't so much write this book as adapt it from speeches that represent his "holistic worldview." And holistic it is: The former mayor of Cleveland addresses issues ranging from the inevitability of world peace to the merger of spirit and matter. He spells out his beliefs with uncommon -- although at times sappy -- candor, his lilting prose and unconventional ideas a genuine departure from traditional campaign-year fare. Whether Democratic voters will buy into this transcendent view of politics is uncertain, but if president isn't in the cards, philosopher may be.
Four Trials, by John Edwards (Simon & Schuster). The North Carolina lawyer-turned-senator takes a novel approach, ushering readers behind the scenes in a quartet of memorable cases. At their best, Edwards and co-author John Auchard turn out well-crafted, even gripping prose that drives the narrative. But the payoff is never really a mystery: After all, what attorney would showcase his losses? Not all of these tales are equally compelling. And except for the intensely personal passages about his son's death, the autobiographical material makes for unsatisfying lead-ins to the lawsuits, the transitions from home life to courtroom as jarring as a jury duty notice.
Winning Back America, by Howard Dean (Simon & Schuster). Dean's book aptly complements his campaign style: Skip the finesse and pummel readers with lines as compact as left jabs. There's no setting of scenes or wasting time on the likes of metaphors or adjectives; instead, Vermont's former governor offers unblemished biography, followed by pages of Why I Want (and Deserve) to be President. He's not Raymond Carver, but Dean's less-is-more approach has its moments: He condenses his feelings about religion into 83 words, and his aversion to buying clothes requires but a single, memorable line: "My suits are like my friends: They're with me for the long haul."
Winning Modern Wars: Iraq, Terrorism, and the American Empire, by Wesley Clark (PublicAffairs). War is hell, but Clark makes reading about it not quite so torturous. Unlike his Democratic rivals, whose books are obvious attempts to shape their election-year images, Clark's sequel to his scribblings about Kosovo is far more subtle: Although he occasionally resorts to the first person, this highly readable examination of the Iraq war and its consequences, including the "war on terrorism," offers a not-so-coincidental subtext: You want a bona fide commander in chief? Generally speaking, I'm your man.
Bottom line: Dean and Edwards have their literary moments, but Clark obviously didn't spend his time as a Rhodes Scholar just drinking warm beer. So if books are any measure, here's the call for '04: Bush vs. Clark.
Alan Green is senior editor at the Center for Public Integrity. This article originally appeared in The Dragonfly Review of Books, part of Dragonfly Media (www.dragonflymedia.com) .