“Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman”, by Robert K. Massie

656 pages, Random House, ISBN-13: 978-0679456728

Robert K. Massie is one of those rare authors whose books I buy on the reputation of the writer first and on the subject matter second. Thus was the case with Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman. On its own, it’s not a bad book by any means; once again Massie does a great job portraying Catherine’s personality and character, aided as he was by the memoirs and numerous personal letters Catherine left behind. Massie makes excellent use of this material, quoting freely and revealingly from Catherine's writings, and the image that emerges is of a strong, practical, witty, opinionated, and rather acerbic woman of the world. What’s interesting about Catherine is she had the strength and self-confidence to seize the throne of an empire, yet she was never a self-centered egomaniac like so many rulers. She had a pretty clear-headed view of her own strengths and weaknesses and didn’t lose sight of that, even after ruling for some 30-odd years. I certainly can’t approve of many of her policies as empress, however there’s little doubt she was a highly unusual and interesting person.

With all that said, I was left with several unanswered questions. First and foremost, I wanted more information on Catherine as a mother. Massie tells us a lot about Catherine as a wife and lover, but little about her and her children. He relates the births of her two officially acknowledged children, Paul and Anna, and tells us that Empress Elizabeth essentially stole both children from Catherine; we then hear almost nothing further about Paul, Catherine’s heir, until page 400 or so, nor much about the rumors that he may in fact have been the son of Sergei Saltykov. There is no discussion of how Catherine felt about the loss of her children or what her limited relationship with them was like. Massie also provides little to no information about Catherine’s relationship (if any) with her illegitimate son, Count Bobrinsky.

Another area that falls quite a bit short is the general social and historical context of Catherine’s time. Massie did much, much better with this in Peter the Great, as in that book he really described all the sectors of Russian society in Peter's time – peasants, aristocrats, priests – so you could feel and understand the world Peter was from; in that book he also did a better job of describing the relative character and power of other major European powers, so you understood the political context of Peter’s time. Not so here. While Massie provides a section on the serfs (focusing overmuch on lurid sexual details) he offers no corresponding section on the Russian gentry/aristocracy. There is a decent discussion of the French Revolution, but more information was needed on the significance of Prussia and Frederick the Great, as well as Austria. Massie spends too much time on figures like Voltaire and John Paul Jones (I didn't need to know the life story of each) and not enough on more important people in Catherine’s life. In general, the book could have used a stronger editorial hand; certain areas receive too much emphasis, others not enough. And the second half of the book suffers from a rather episodic, disjointed quality.

Over all I was left disappointed in three things: Massie’s simplified scholarship; his attempts at psychological profiling; and his “dumbing down” of the content. The book is written with a lot of repetition (at some points I had to flip back a couple pages to see if I had accidentally gone backwards instead of forwards as the material was repeated, almost verbatim) and though I was interested in the story it often felt over-simplified with the major events of the time being glossed over; this bothered me and left the scholarship of the book feeling lackadaisical and unprofessional. All this is not to say I didn’t learn something reading it because I did; I enjoyed picking up new information about Catherine, her life as seen through her eyes (so to speak, the book is not in first person). And ultimately I didn't give up on it despite the drawbacks. But I expect more from Massie.

“Kennedy & Nixon: The Rivalry That Shaped Postwar America”, by Christopher J. Matthews

400 pages, Free Press, ISBN-13: 978-0684832463

Kennedy & Nixon: The Rivalry That Shaped Postwar America by MSNBC host and news columnist Christopher Matthews tells a story of personal friendship souring under political differences and career paths as these cordial political colleagues both opposed what they saw as Yalta’s squandered victory after World War II and fought Communist insurgency and infiltration domestically and internationally. Matthews meticulous research and breezy storytelling style creates a psychological/historical drama mixed with Shakespearean tragedy and some hilarious, touching anecdotes as he traces their roles in the era’s major events, all played against a Cold War backdrop: tacit support for Joe McCarthy’s investigations; distrust of Alger Hiss as Nixon prosecuted him; 1952’s infamous “Checkers” speech preserving Nixon’s vice-presidential candidacy, even as President Dwight Eisenhower coldly minimizes Nixon’s accomplishments and even attempts to remove him.

As the book progresses, Matthews reveals the start of Nixon’s legendary personal distrust, hinted when vanquished Congressional opponent Helen Douglas branded him “Tricky Dick”. Here Matthews also introduces characters (Archibald Cox, Charles Colson, Larry O’Brien) who became household names less than 15 years later as henchmen for or targets of Nixon’s need to retain power. You also see the slow roots of America’s painful Vietnam involvement, and how it helped fuel Nixon's 1968 comeback victory. Through it ass Nixon battles first the ambitions, and then later the “Camelot” mythology, of John F. Kennedy. Nixon is then shadowed throughout his political life by memories of the slain president, first by brother Robert (a likely 1968 candidate before his assassination) and finally youngest brother Edward Kennedy.

The core of the book, however, is dedicated to 1960 presidential election and TV’s major role in its presentation and outcome. Matthews meticulously retells 1960 “Great Debate” and how Nixon’s TV image (which, compared to Kennedy’s carefully crafted public persona and what Nixon saw as creative counting) painfully cost him that election. But recounting private taped and untaped conversations, you sense both men’s anger and frustration against enemies foreign (Kennedy’s Bay of Pigs and the assassination of South Vietnam president Ngo Dihn Diem) and domestic (Nixon’s Saturday Night Massacre and his palpable need to discredit Ted Kennedy even after the 1969 Chappaquiddick tragedy ended any hopes for his presidential run).

Matthews effectively argues Ted Kennedy’s threat as fueling Nixon’s self-destruction, but adds that Nixon’s suspicions were justified. From being used by Kennedy’s wealthy father as pawn for President-elect Kennedy before the inauguration, to investigated for loans given Nixon’s brother Donald (for “Nixonburgers”), to Ted Kennedy’s role in prosecuting Watergate, Nixon felt constantly chased by Kennedy legacy and perceptions he only held space until another Kennedy “Restoration” and couldn’t compete with Kennedy’s carefully written legacy. This leads to several bitter but even hilarious anecdotes (the ones about the phony train conductor, the pregnant woman, and the beach photo opportunity being three favorites).

Even in Nixon’s declining, post-retirement years, his foreign policy expertise was respected and sought after by occupants of the Oval Office of both parties, and in more recent years his presidency has been re-examined. All-in-all, one cannot help but sympathize with self-made Nixon who does nothing to besmirch the political fortunes of his Presidential rival, whereas the rich kid Kennedy engages is a whole array of ruthless buyouts, cheap tricks and petty jabs to secure his ill-gotten throne and destroy his old nemesis. An excellent good book for a serious reader interested in the history of this nation and the art of statecraft.

“Caesars’ Wives: Sex, Power, and Politics in the Roman Empire”, by Annelise Freisenbruch

337 pages, Free Press, ISBN-13: 978-1416583035

No single book can tell the story of the Roman Empire; the best any one book can do is focus on one aspect and tell the story of Roman Empire through that focus. In Caesars’ Wives: Sex, Power, and Politics in the Roman Empire Annelise Freisenbruch attempts to give an alternative history of Imperial Rome the lives of the notable women of the Empire (and not just those who were married to a Caesar) from the Julio-Claudian emperors of the 1^st Century AD to the end of the Roman empire in 476 AD.

Anyone familiar with the history of the Roman Empire knows that recounting the historical narrative is difficult; many historical figures are known by multiple names and the same name is common to many historical figures. Freisenbruch includes multiple genealogical charts to help the reader navigate through the morass of names, but her style of writing adds to the confusion. For instance, in the first paragraph of chapter one, the story begins with Nero and his 17-year-old wife, Livia, running for their lives in a burning forest; in the very next paragraph, the text jumps to the political fallout following the assassination of Julius Caesar, which is then followed by a comparison of Livia to Cleopatra, which brings us back to a brief biography of Nero. Nowhere in the chapter does the author take the reader back to the burning forest and how Nero and Livia made their escape. Similarly, chapter five begins with a discussion of two plays about the emperor Titus and his mistress Berenice – that premiered in 1610. Berenice’s story is quite an interesting historical figure (she is even mentioned the Bible), but it would have been a lot clearer for the author to recount her story first and then report that in the Middle Ages her life was made into competing plays, not the other way around.

A journey through the history of the women of the Roman patriarchy is a fine subject worthy of exploration, and while interesting for Roman history buffs, this book can be somewhat disappointing in that most of the personalities don't exactly leap off the page (unlike so many of the Roman men about whom one reads over and over). But this probably isn’t the fault of the author; there just isn’t that much information available about Roman women, even the prominent ones, and much of that information is biased to boot. In a society where the role of the virtuous woman was to be unseen, unheard, and unheard about, this is hardly surprising; even ladies of talent and category were whitewashed in Roman histories, to preserve the virtuous image of their families. As noted above, this is an interesting and easy read for those who really love Roman history, but others may not be drawn to it.