Team of Rivals, by Doris Kearns Goodwin

Team of Rivals has been much in the news lately, given that President Obama cited it as a favorite book and seems to have used it as a guide in assembling his own cabinet. I've not read anything by Doris Kearns Goodwin previously. She writes in a vivid, evocative and enjoyable style. The choice to use quotes from primary sources as if they were ongoing conversation brings a filmic liveliness to the proceedings. Lost in the skillful narrative, I frequently forgot that I was reading a deeply researched work of scholarship. Yet there, in the back, are reams of notes covering each quote and most of her assertions. The skill comes in using these snippets build momentum from sentence to sentence. Though scrupulous in quoting, the reading moves smoothly among diaries, letters, newspaper accounts and other primary sources. Exchanges I remembered as if they were taped conversations were, on further examination, quoted from all of the above sources. Goodwin's integration of these patchwork elements into a greater whole is the star element of the book.

As for the organization of the book, well, it's nothing if not ambitious. DKG offers a political biography of four men: Lincoln, Salmon P. Chase, William Seward and Edward Bates. The first part of the book covers their ascencions to the top of the nascent Republican party, culminating in the nomination fight of 1860. Indulging in a bit of dramatic license, Goodwin opens the book at that year's Republican convention, bringing the four principals on stage. Then, she backtracks through each of their lives, illuminating their paths to the momentous occasion. Though we know the outcome, the details don't fail to fascinate. Frankly, the first 278 pages of the book could have stood on their own.

Having set the stage, DKG moves into the meat of her thesis: that these different men from different backgrounds would, under the steady hand of the one elected to lead the group, be exactly what the country needed. Unfortunately, this is where she also falters. She starts strongly enough, bringing in a greater supporting cast, including Gideon Welles, Edwin Stanton and Monty Blair (and his contentious clan), among others. The early years of Lincoln's administration let us probe the cabinet in detail. We can see Seward's growing respect and friendship with the president and Chase's determined work at Treasury despite his grasping ambition for the Presidency. Bates wanes in effect as Stanton waxes, even through his tendency to be a strict schoolmaster at the Department of War. These early days of Lincoln's Presidency are covered in an almost day-to-day level of detail.

At some point, the author starts to lose focus. Events on the Washington social scene are given focus completely out of proportion to their importance. There are some diversions into the squabbles of the Blair family, which seems bound and determined to annoy everyone it crosses. These new elements cloud the story of the interactions between Lincoln and his cabinet. But the story itself loses some of its drama, as the cabinet, having struggled through the early years, now operates rather efficiently. Were it not for Chase's clumsy lunges towards the 1864 nomination, there would be no drama at all. Midway through the book, the reader is left confused, as the thesis has fizzled, and there's little to replace it. Not that there aren't goings-on of great import, but rather DKG gives them short shrift. The Gettysburg address gets a page. The New York draft riots about the same.

Whereas the front half of the book covered the rivalry among Lincoln and his cabinet-to-be, the back half covers Lincoln's skillful management of the same. Here's DKG ponders how Lincoln's traits made him the perfect manager of men. Yet a variety of the traits which make Lincoln special could be seen as positive or negative. Consider the trait most frequently praised: Lincoln's sense of timing. Over and over, Lincoln ignores those who push him to change, holding out until the opportune moment. But this is praise that could just as easily turn into condemnation. It's possible to say that there are times when Lincoln could have acted quickly, decisively and saved lives. Sacking McClellan comes to mind, as does firing Cameron from the Secretary of War position. On the other hand, the timing of the Emancipation Proclamation seems almost preternatural, with Lincoln's hand on the pulse of the country. Which ties into one of Lincoln's genuine traits: an uncanny and near-perfect ability to read public sentiment. Cynics could criticize Lincoln for blowing in the wind of opinion, but Goodwin exposes that the President often knew exactly what he wanted, and awaited only the best moment to strike.

Sometimes, DKG's attempts to read Lincoln degenerates into unfounded psychoanalysis. She does this clumsily, usually pulling the reader right out of the narrative.

Acutely aware of his own emotional needs, Lincoln had chosen ... to review the troops, for his conversations with Grant and his interactions with the soldiers sustained and inspired him during the troubling days ahead.

There's no footnote associated with this, not a scrap of evidence. In fact, the next portion of the paragraph wanders into a bizarre cul-de-sac discussion of "emotional intelligence" and defining what it means to have hope. Thankfully, these moments are the rarest of occasional tangles in the skein DKG weaves.

Clearly, there's much to praise and much to criticize in Lincoln. Did he drive the nation to war or was he the savior of the Union? Was he a racist or a closet radical abolitionist? Does his suspension of habeas corpus tip his dictatorial ambitions? Or was he simply fighting a difficult battle on difficult terms? Goodwin opts almost exclusively for praise over criticism. There are times where her narrative veers from history into hagiography. For instance: Lincoln's words on race are well-known. While he ended slavery, he was not a man who believed in the equality of white and black; which is fine, as he's a product of his era. But DKG spends an early chunk of pages bending over backwards to prove that Lincoln's not a racist. The point is more effectively proven by Lincoln's early and frequent opposition to the spread of slavery, by the Emancipation Proclamation, and by Lincoln's warm relationship with Frederick Douglass, who spoke warmly and gratefully of how Lincoln treated him as an equal. The story of Lincoln is better served by an honest appraisal. While there's no need to tear the man down, he's got a holiday and the closest thing the country has to a national temple. He can handle some criticism.

In spite of the occasional detour into hagiography or the role of armchair therapist, this is a well-written book. The flaws are few and far between, and the crackling storytelling makes them easy to forget. I'm eager to read more history, down the line, if for no other reason to see if those authors can do as well as Goodwin has with Team of Rivals.