Books in Brief

The Good Fight: The Education of an American Reformer, by Gary Hart (Random House, 327 pp., $23)

TRY THIS: “The rodent of fate that gnaws most tellingly is not the rodent of failure but that of never having tried …” A grotesque image, and typical of this plodding, morose third-person (“the reformer” is Mr. Hart’s persona) rehash of old Bethany-Nazarene philosophy courses, civics lectures, and now-dated New Democrat goo-goo position papers, only occasionally envenomed by that high-pitched, self-righteous, unmistakable McGovernite rhetorical viciousness, as when Mr. Hart slashes at Pat Buchanan for having “the blood of the original occupants of this land” on his hands. Less excusable still is “the reformer’s” failure to acknowledge even a trace of personal responsibility for what he calls in passing “the incident” that destroyed his 1988 presidential candidacy and for which he blames, in turn, the press, other politicians, the Zeitgeist—anything except “the reformer” himself. Toward the end of the book, in his uniquely ponderous way, “the reformer” tells us that “The dinner party is closed to the heavy of mind, if not the heavy of heart.” Heavy of mind, heavy of prose. For him the party is definitely over. What was it all about? Early on, he tells us that “reform is nothing but the American ideal: the pursuit of happiness.” Indeed. From Pilgrim’s Progress to Rake’s Progress to the Pursuit of Happiness to Monkey Business. As for the rodent, he’s lucky that Donna Rice or Mrs. Hart apparently didn’t have big brothers—or for that matter, rat terriers.

JR

About the Author

John R. Coyne Jr.

About the Author

Christopher Caldwell

Mr. Caldwell is a contributing editor of the Claremont Review of Books and the author of The Age of Entitlement: America Since the Sixties.

MR

About the Author

Michael Romain

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The Good Fight: The Education of an American Reformer, by Gary Hart (Random House, 327 pp., $23)

TRY THIS: “The rodent of fate that gnaws most tellingly is not the rodent of failure but that of never having tried …” A grotesque image, and typical of this plodding, morose third-person (“the reformer” is Mr. Hart’s persona) rehash of old Bethany-Nazarene philosophy courses, civics lectures, and now-dated New Democrat goo-goo position papers, only occasionally envenomed by that high-pitched, self-righteous, unmistakable McGovernite rhetorical viciousness, as when Mr. Hart slashes at Pat Buchanan for having “the blood of the original occupants of this land” on his hands. Less excusable still is “the reformer’s” failure to acknowledge even a trace of personal responsibility for what he calls in passing “the incident” that destroyed his 1988 presidential candidacy and for which he blames, in turn, the press, other politicians, the Zeitgeist—anything except “the reformer” himself. Toward the end of the book, in his uniquely ponderous way, “the reformer” tells us that “The dinner party is closed to the heavy of mind, if not the heavy of heart.” Heavy of mind, heavy of prose. For him the party is definitely over. What was it all about? Early on, he tells us that “reform is nothing but the American ideal: the pursuit of happiness.” Indeed. From Pilgrim’s Progress to Rake’s Progress to the Pursuit of Happiness to Monkey Business. As for the rodent, he’s lucky that Donna Rice or Mrs. Hart apparently didn’t have big brothers—or for that matter, rat terriers.