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All I Want for Christmas Compiled by
Kathryn Jean Lopez |
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As a frequent writer on matters Chinese, I get called in whenever China is in the news for any reason. I sometimes like to stir things up at these meetings by saying: "You know, you're all obsessing about the wrong country. China's a no-hoper, and will be until they get themselves democracy. The real Asian power of the 21st century will be India. Why, by the end of this decade she will even have more people than China. And the economy's booming." To bolster my arguments in these situations, there is now an excellent book I can recommend: Gurcharan Das's India Unbound, which came out in the U.S. this spring. It is hard to categorize this book precisely: in part it is an autobiography, in part a survey of recent Indian history, in part a handbook for aspiring capitalists. It is, at any rate, chock-full of conservative virtues, from a belief in free markets and low taxation to a bone-deep love of country, and a thoughtful skepticism towards any notion of progress that does not take into account the attachment ordinary people have towards their families, traditions, customs, and religion. For deeper background, reaching back into the early struggles for independence, the autobiographical books of Nirad Chaudhuri — Autobiography of an Unknown Indian and the unforgettably titled Thy Hand, Great Anarch! — remain indispensable classics, full of wit and brilliant writing, as well as historical insight. Finally, in honor of the Nobel Prize for Literature awarded this year to Sir Vidia Naipaul, I urge all who have not yet done so to read his masterpiece, the part-autobiographical A House for Mister Biswas. It is a beautiful, beautiful book. And I see that, without my having intended it, all my India recommendations are at least partly autobiographical. Well: then Indians are the autobiographers of the world. Jai Hind!
I tried to avoid making this list because nearly all the books I've been reading this fall have had to do with bioterrorism, the clash of civilizations, and Our Friends the Peace-Loving Muslims. It's all vital, but very depressing, and not the kind of thing I'd be likely to give for Christmas presents. But I have read two recent volumes that will be on my gift-giving list. Both are biographies of American leaders of our time who achieved greatness, even heroic greatness, because of the mysterious alchemy of character, will, and the demands of their time, which both men rose gallantly to meet: Peggy Noonan's When Character Was King: A Story of Ronald Reagan is a beautifully written, deeply moving, personal account of the man by an extraordinarily gifted writer who was part of Reagan's circle. This impressionistic book has about it the air of hagiography — the life story of a saint — a term usually employed by reviewers in a pejorative way. I mean it in the old-fashioned, praiseworthy sense. Reading this book, you understand clearly that Ms. Noonan is aware of Reagan's flaws, but that she sees his lasting importance as a historical figure and a man worthy of emulation. She is properly awed that he was able to accomplish so much by the purity of his heart and the strength of his convictions. Similarly, Full of Grace: An Oral Biography of John Cardinal O'Connor, by Terry Golway is a captivating collection of personal anecdotes of the late Cardinal Archbishop of New York, told by men and women — many of them non-Catholic — who knew him best. I had always admired Cardinal O'Connor, but I had no idea of how intimate his kindness and charity were, of how little we really knew of his goodness. Living in New York this awful season, I've missed him terribly; I sat up till 3:30 in the morning reading this book, in a single sitting. It felt like I had him back.
The September 11 attack has naturally focused the nation's attention on New York City. For those interested in how New York came to be the greatest city in the world, I recommend New York, an Illustrated History, by Ric Burns and James Sanders, with Lisa Ades. Published in 1999, it of course doesn't include any accounts of September's horror. But the reader will discover how New York and New Yorkers have triumphed through previous hardships, just as they will through the present one. As it has in previous confrontations with evil, it is apparent that the United States must lead the way if Western civilization is to survive what can best be described as barbarian aggression. Some among us — such as certain editorial-page writers and most college professors — may need to be reminded of why America is special, and that the reasons it is special are the very reasons it was attacked. If you have such people on your gift list this year, how about stuffing their stockings with My Love Affair with America, by Norman Podhoretz. As a young man Podhoretz was an active member of the America-hating academic Left, but he grew wiser as he grew older, a natural process to which those same editorial writers and college professors seem immune. Podhoretz came to realize that the United States of America, for all its flaws, represents a high point in the history of civilization. This book is his declaration of gratitude that he is an American, and a reminder to the world that it should be grateful there is an America.
From Dawn to Decadence: 500 Years of Western Cultural Life, by Jacques Barzun. A magisterial survey of the singularity of Western culture — warts and all — that suggests the greatest dangers to our culture have always lurked within, rather than arising from threats abroad. The Muslim Discovery of Europe, by Bernard Lewis. A learned and typically balanced account of the divides and bridges between East and West that is characterized throughout by intellectual integrity and independence — and therefore as unfashionable as it is brilliant in avoiding the usual stereotypes that Islam was not a warrior religion and that the Europeans they met were simply backward and uncivilized. The Wealth and Poverty of Nations, by David Landes. An exhaustive and thoroughly honest appraisal of the role of culture — not germs or geography — in explaining why some nations succeed in providing security, prosperity, and freedom for their people, and others do not. The anger and nature of Landes's critics are more proof of the soundness of his argument. While America Sleeps, by Donald Kagan and Frederick W. Kagan. We know that America can handle Afghanistan and Iraq — but can it go to war with both and still help to keep the peace on the other five continents at the same time? The Kagans argue perhaps, perhaps not, in demonstrating how the dismantling of our defense capabilities during the last eight years was at odds with both our responsibilities and our own recent record of increasing intervention abroad and may have sent the wrong message to our enemies.
Mere Christianity, by C. S. Lewis. Essays from his radio talks, commissioned by Churchill, that rallied Britons during WWII. These remarkable spiritual thoughts will rally all of us during the war on terrorism. Seven Fat Years, by Robert Bartley. Watching the completely screwed-up debate in Washington on taxes and the economy, this treatise on supply-side origins is an educational read. The Growth Experiment, by Lawrence Lindsey. What might have been if supply-sider Lindsey, now President Bush's right-hand economics man, had stayed true to his beliefs. Lincoln, by Gore Vidal. Fortunately, this has none of Vidal's left-wing political gibberish. But his history is good and his imaginary narrative is engrossing, especially Lincoln's decision to suspend habeas corpus and other executive-branch power grabs during wartime.
April 1865, by Jay Winik: An instant classic in the crowded field of Civil War literature. Winik is a great storyteller who brings real freshness to an old topic — and persuasively shows why the American South did not become our own version of Northern Ireland. Communism: A History, by Richard Pipes. "Communism was not a good idea that went wrong; it was a bad idea," writes Pipes in this excellent primer. Essential reading for young conservatives who need a crash course on what the Cold War was all about. Fire on the Beach, by David Wright and David Zoby. The compelling story of Richard Etheridge, a man born into slavery who fought during the Civil War and later led the U.S. Life-Saving Service's only all-black crew. It's partly about race, but mostly about heroism — rescuing people trapped aboard shipwrecks on North Carolina's outer banks took a special breed. Lord of the Rings, by J. R. R. Tolkien: The best-loved novel of the 20th century is poised to spellbind a new generation when the latest movie version comes out on December 19. This is a great gift for teenagers who like to read, especially boys, though it is also a mature and serious novel adults can enjoy. (Also recommended: Tom Shippey's Tolkien: Author of the Century — it's the best interpretation of Tolkien available.) Old House of Fear, by Russell Kirk. I've heard that this out-of-print novel outsold all of the author's other books — combined. After years of searching the shelves of second-hand bookshops, I finally found a copy online this year and read it in a few sittings. It's a delightful throwback to the Gothic novels of the late 18th century (such as The Castle of Otranto or The Mysteries of Udolpho), told with the moral sensibility of a 20th-century conservative. Someone should turn it into a screenplay; it would make a great film.
Life at the Bottom: The Worldview that Makes the Underclass, by Theodore Dalrymple. Dalrymple — the pen name for Anthony Daniels, who also does a good deal of writing under his own name — is simply one of the finest, brightest, and most interesting writers in the world. He is a doctor in a prison hospital; he travels all over the world, in particular to the most wretched places; and he has a literary gift that has been likened to Orwell's, with reason. This book collects his essays from City Journal. Read and be amazed, and weep, and laugh, and understand, etc. An Old Wife's Tale: My Seven Decades in Love and War, by Midge Decter. This is a beautiful and wise autobio by a leading light of our political culture. The highest praise I can give it is to say that it deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as another recent memoir, My Love Affair with America, by Norman Podhoretz — Decter's husband. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn: The Ascent from Ideology, by Daniel J. Mahoney. Mahoney understands Solzhenitsyn as very few do, and he orients the great writer for us all. This is a book that should destroy the myth of Solzhenitsyn as an autocrat, a theocrat, a right-winger, etc. And it is as exquisitely written as it is conceived. A real pearl of a volume. When Character Was King: A Story of Ronald Reagan, by Peggy Noonan. It is a rich subject — Reagan — and no one does it better than this author, Noonan. Some complain that she writes sentimentally; I say she writes feelingly. And if you don't think sentiment is part of Reagan . . . I thought I couldn't read another book about Reagan, one of my favorite subjects, and about whom I've read more than anyone probably should; but this book sings, and those who don't want to purr along with it should just get out of the way. In the Arena: A Memoir of the 20th Century, by Caspar W. Weinberger, with Gretchen Roberts. An absorbing autobiography by one of the best of the Reaganites. Read it and see if you don't think that Cap would have made a splendid president. Basic Economics: A Citizen's Guide to the Economy, by Thomas Sowell. It is one of Sowell's missions in life to teach the average Joe — and the ruling class — the basic truths of economics, truths that get almost weirdly obscured in America, land of the free market. The book is kind of eat-your-peas. But, frankly, a lot of us — and I do mean us — could eat some peas. The Closed Circle: An Interpretation of the Arabs, by David Pryce-Jones. This magnificent and all-too-borne-out book was first published in 1989, and has just been reprinted by Ivan R. Dee ((800) 462-6420). I realize I'm touting my own senior editor here — but he is toutable. Finally, for pure novel-love and novel-pleasure: Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernieres, and An Equal Music by Vikram Seth. Anyone in his right mind would kill to have written them.
For those who
love novels, the two recent books that offer the most pleasure are
Richard Russo's Empire
Falls and Michael Chabon's Pulitzer prize-winning The
Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.
From Dawn to Decadence: 500 Years of Western Cultural Life, by Jacques Barzun. Now available in paperback, a magisterial account of the highlights of modern culture. Smiling Through the Cultural Catastrophe: Toward the Revival of Education, by Jeffrey Hart. A breathtaking reading of the Western canon; covers an amazing breadth of material — with great insight — in under 300 pages. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. A conservative new translation, both reverent and readable. The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen. A good old-fashioned Dickensian page-turner, a novel by turns hilarious and heartbreaking. The Tristan Chord: Wagner and Philosophy, by Bryan Magee. A full-throated and fascinating defense of a great composer, who was also a thoroughly unpleasant fellow. And if you haven't read Proust's In Search of Lost Time, by all means read it now. The only downside of reading this masterpiece — in my view, the best novel ever written — is that on reaching its final page you will realize, with a pang of regret, that you will never again get to read it for the first time.
My holiday pick is The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien. With the first of three LOTR movies due out December 19 I have been rereading Tolkien for the first time in many years. A number of themes and details stand out in ways they didn't when I first read (and reread and reread!) the series as an adolescent. The struggle of good versus evil is gripping, as always. The heroism is inspiring. I have a deeper appreciation of the values reflected in the books, particularly the deep and unshakable bond of friendship between Frodo and Samwise. And I have a better sense of the craft of Tolkien the writer. He plugged into the ancient mythos in a way very subtle and charming. His work is filled with echoes of events far distant to us and yet uniquely personal to him. One reads the depiction of hand-to-hand fighting in "The Fall of Gondolin" very differently after learning that Tolkien wrote it in a hospital in 1916 after surviving the Battle of the Somme. Those interested in learning more about Tolkien's life as an author and scholar should check out The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien, edited by Humphrey Carpenter. Tolkien writes at length about his creative process and the way in which his works evolved, starting in his boyhood and continuing until his death in 1973. His befuddlement at his own fame is very entertaining. NRO readers with children might try getting them interested in The Hobbit, if they can be diverted from Harry Potter. Tolkien may seem like escapist literature in these troubled times, but if you don't come away from Lord of the Rings with a deeper understanding of the fight for freedom you weren't paying attention.
I read only a few new books this year and none made a deep impression, at least to the point of suggesting someone go out an actually buy a copy. But if something current must be read you can't go wrong with the Statistical Abstract of the United States, where one can learn how many Americans garden, play pinball, create love children, shoot their neighbors, and perhaps whittle ducks. The Abstract supplies the raw data; a reader must supply the narrative. It's a good bargain. Two literary books I try to read every year are Les Miserables and Juvenal's Sixteen Satires. Hugo's masterwork (prose division) is a great big story about love, revolution, faith, obsessive madness, and treachery. It also benefits from many great passages. Juvenal's javelins almost always draw blood, often lots of it. He reminds us, across the centuries, that the preening classes deserve nothing more than a big, fat, dismissive sneer.
The
Broken Hearth: Reversing the Moral Collapse of the American Family,
by William J. Bennett. Making Patriots, by Walter Berns. A deep meditation on, and defense of, American patriotism. Could not have been better timed. An Old Wife's Tale: My Seven Decades in Love and War by Midge Decter. A beautifully written memoir by one of our great conservative intellectuals that doubles as a brilliant critique of feminism. Paul Revere's Ride, by David Hackett Fischer. This 1994 book is an exciting and surprising account of the start of the American Revolution. It conveys as clearly as anything could the meaning of patriotism, preparedness, and war in defense of freedom. This book's time has come again — and must never go away. Democracy in America by Alexis de Tocqueville, translated and edited with an introduction by Harvey C. Mansfield and Delba Winthrop. The best book about America ever written, in a brilliant new translation, and with an important new introductory essay.
Two choices this year, both published before September 11 and yet both transformed by it. The first, Up in the Air by Walter Kirn is dry, deadpan comedy, the tale of Ryan Bingham, a consultant with a vague job, but a clear purpose: to earn a million frequent flyer miles from Great West Airlines. There is a narrative of sorts, but it comes a poor second to Mr. Kirn's gloriously funny, and brutally accurate, description of "Airworld," the bland, endlessly replicated airport habitat of this country's road warriors, those anonymous, innumerable business travelers who fly from terminal to terminal, from Denver to Dallas-Fort Worth to O'Hare, camping in suite hotels, snacking on mini-pizzas and wrestling with laptops. Or at least that's what they used to do. The second book, Taliban by Ahmed Rashid goes a long way towards explaining the background to the events that were to wreck Airworld and leave Up in the Air as the accidental portrait of the last moments of a brilliantly trivial, but ultimately doomed, subculture. Poignantly, Mr. Kirn's novel now looks more like ancient history than contemporary satire. Taliban, by contrast, describes a regime that, regardless of its own fate, will continue to scar our future. In this erudite, and highly readable, work Mr. Rashid makes the most of his years of experience in Pakistan and Central Asia to trace the intellectual origins and complex past of the fundamentalist movement that was to bring such misery both to Afghanistan and to the United States. Mr. Rashid enjoyed good and, at times unique, access to many of the players in this drama, and it shows, while his familiarity with the culture of the region leaves him well-equipped to explain the subtleties of a saga that we should have been trying to understand well before that blue, cruel autumn day. First published in 2000, when it attracted comparatively little attention, Taliban has been reprinted as a paperback and is now, for obvious reasons, a bestseller. The book is a horrifying depiction of our species' capacity for credulity, cruelty, and greed, and its early difficulties in finding a readership are a painful reminder of our former complacency in the face of evil. |
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RO
asked some of our well-read contributors to give their book suggestions
for gifts this holiday season. For more gift-buying ideas, be sure
to glance at NRO's 
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