Though somewhat academic and consistently grim, Broughton’s book provides ample documentation of a central truth of...
You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. As this sociological study shows, that, at least, is what they tell the eggs.
Galesburg, Illinois, was once a town of steel, glass and rubber, devoted to meeting “America’s seemingly insatiable postwar appetite for appliances.” Newcomer workers received the less-than-desirable jobs, loading trucks and stuffing refrigerators with insulation and the like. “Appliance City,” as the enormous factory was called, had a population of 5,000 in its heyday, and it was something of a blue-collar paradise, its jobs paying $15-plus per hour with ample benefits. As Broughton (Public Policy/Univ. of Chicago) observes, in the late 1950s, Admiral, Maytag and other American manufacturers were producing 3 million refrigerators per year, along with washers and dryers. Half a century later, almost all that work had been outsourced, the good factory work moving to plants just across the border in Mexico, where a $15-per-hour job could be filled for $15 per day or less. As a result, the sleepy border town of Reynosa, Mexico, where Galesburg’s jobs went, has increased 1,000 percent in population, bringing all the usual crime and anomie. Broughton limns the story with interviews with those left behind and those newly hired, as well as the intermediaries who profit from others’ loss. One of them, central to the story, “saw himself as a warrior, fighting to take Rust Belt jobs and to stop China from stealing low-wage work from the maquilas.” That’s loyalty of a sort, one supposes. Sadder still is the author’s account of the cognitive dissonance that has settled like a shroud over both cities, as workers in Reynosa work 13-hour shifts and lose connections with their families and as the people of Galesburg try to convince themselves that things are for the better in a new world of flipping burgers and stocking shelves at the big-box store down the road.
Though somewhat academic and consistently grim, Broughton’s book provides ample documentation of a central truth of late-American history—namely, that capital has no country.Pub Date: Jan. 2, 2015
ISBN: 978-0199765614
Page Count: 416
Publisher: Oxford Univ.
Review Posted Online: Nov. 1, 2014
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2014
A heartfelt if somewhat unsurprising view of old age by the former president. Carter (Living Faith, 1996, etc.) succinctly evaluates the evolution and current status of federal policies concerning the elderly (including a balanced appraisal of the difficulties facing the Social Security system). He also meditates, while drawing heavily on autobiographical anecdotes, on the possibilities for exploration and intellectual and spiritual growth in old age. There are few lightning bolts to dazzle in his prescriptions (cultivate family ties; pursue the restorative pleasures of hobbies and socially minded activities). Yet the warmth and frankness of Carter’s remarks prove disarming. Given its brevity, the work is more of a call to senior citizens to reconsider how best to live life than it is a guide to any of the details involved.
Pub Date: Oct. 26, 1998
ISBN: 0-345-42592-8
Page Count: 96
Publisher: Ballantine
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 1998
Less a sequel than an addendum, the book offers a close-up view of the Oval Office in its darkest hour.
Four decades after Watergate shook America, journalist Woodward (The Price of Politics, 2012, etc.) returns to the scandal to profile Alexander Butterfield, the Richard Nixon aide who revealed the existence of the Oval Office tapes and effectively toppled the presidency.
Of all the candidates to work in the White House, Butterfield was a bizarre choice. He was an Air Force colonel and wanted to serve in Vietnam. By happenstance, his colleague H.R. Haldeman helped Butterfield land a job in the Nixon administration. For three years, Butterfield worked closely with the president, taking on high-level tasks and even supervising the installation of Nixon’s infamous recording system. The writing here is pure Woodward: a visual, dialogue-heavy, blow-by-blow account of Butterfield’s tenure. The author uses his long interviews with Butterfield to re-create detailed scenes, which reveal the petty power plays of America’s most powerful men. Yet the book is a surprisingly funny read. Butterfield is passive, sensitive, and dutiful, the very opposite of Nixon, who lets loose a constant stream of curses, insults, and nonsensical bluster. Years later, Butterfield seems conflicted about his role in such an eccentric presidency. “I’m not trying to be a Boy Scout and tell you I did it because it was the right thing to do,” Butterfield concedes. It is curious to see Woodward revisit an affair that now feels distantly historical, but the author does his best to make the story feel urgent and suspenseful. When Butterfield admitted to the Senate Select Committee that he knew about the listening devices, he felt its significance. “It seemed to Butterfield there was absolute silence and no one moved,” writes Woodward. “They were still and quiet as if they were witnessing a hinge of history slowly swinging open….It was as if a bare 10,000 volt cable was running through the room, and suddenly everyone touched it at once.”
Less a sequel than an addendum, the book offers a close-up view of the Oval Office in its darkest hour.Pub Date: Oct. 13, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-5011-1644-5
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: Oct. 20, 2015
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