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THE MUCH-LAMENTED DEATH OF MADAM GENEVA

Every duck associated with the gin craze—lord, merchant, magistrate, family-values careerist, commoner, reformer, sot—is...

From English historian, architect, and novelist Dillon, an admirable history of the London gin craze that tainted everyone involved.

When William of Orange took the throne from James Stuart in the Glorious Revolution, things French and Catholic got their walking papers—among them brandy—and things Dutch were welcomed—among them gin. That clear, juniper-scented distillate took London by storm. Already pummeled by its political transformation, London was also “neurotic and violent,” racked by great population growth, high and wild with gambling, stock-jobbing, debt-running, gangs, and prostitution. Gin was fuel to all these woes, but, to Dillon’s way of thinking, it also served to put a balm on all the uncertainty and risk of the times: it made life more palatable for those in a state of struggle even as it lined the pockets of land owners and the distillers. And it came, too, to line the pockets of corrupt excisemen, informers, and—for Madam Geneva had friends in high places—politicians themselves once the gin acts were instituted in a doomed and eerily familiar effort to exert control. Dillon ably brings into the picture what the writers of the times had to offer, from Smollet to Defoe to Fielding; the role of class distinction in gin’s rise and fall; the effects of the middle class and materialism on the drink; and the part Mother Nature played via harvest failures. He lauds the pragmatism of repealing the gin acts and draws the obvious parallels between those acts and our own war on drugs, which by the 1980s “was no longer about the social causes of drug abuse, nor about the safety of users. It was about enforcement.”

Every duck associated with the gin craze—lord, merchant, magistrate, family-values careerist, commoner, reformer, sot—is crisply lined up and then bowled over for the benefit of the self-righteousness, self-service, and self-destruction. (For another history of this “craze,” see Jessica Warner’s Craze.) (8 b&w illustrations)

Pub Date: Feb. 1, 2003

ISBN: 1-932112-00-6

Page Count: 368

Publisher: Justin, Charles

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2002

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A PEOPLE'S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES

For Howard Zinn, long-time civil rights and anti-war activist, history and ideology have a lot in common. Since he thinks that everything is in someone's interest, the historian—Zinn posits—has to figure out whose interests he or she is defining/defending/reconstructing (hence one of his previous books, The Politics of History). Zinn has no doubts about where he stands in this "people's history": "it is a history disrespectful of governments and respectful of people's movements of resistance." So what we get here, instead of the usual survey of wars, presidents, and institutions, is a survey of the usual rebellions, strikes, and protest movements. Zinn starts out by depicting the arrival of Columbus in North America from the standpoint of the Indians (which amounts to their standpoint as constructed from the observations of the Europeans); and, after easily establishing the cultural disharmony that ensued, he goes on to the importation of slaves into the colonies. Add the laborers and indentured servants that followed, plus women and later immigrants, and you have Zinn's amorphous constituency. To hear Zinn tell it, all anyone did in America at any time was to oppress or be oppressed; and so he obscures as much as his hated mainstream historical foes do—only in Zinn's case there is that absurd presumption that virtually everything that came to pass was the work of ruling-class planning: this amounts to one great indictment for conspiracy. Despite surface similarities, this is not a social history, since we get no sense of the fabric of life. Instead of negating the one-sided histories he detests, Zinn has merely reversed the image; the distortion remains.

Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1979

ISBN: 0061965588

Page Count: 772

Publisher: Harper & Row

Review Posted Online: May 26, 2012

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1979

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I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS

However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.

Maya Angelou is a natural writer with an inordinate sense of life and she has written an exceptional autobiographical narrative which retrieves her first sixteen years from "the general darkness just beyond the great blinkers of childhood."

Her story is told in scenes, ineluctably moving scenes, from the time when she and her brother were sent by her fancy living parents to Stamps, Arkansas, and a grandmother who had the local Store. Displaced they were and "If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat." But alternating with all the pain and terror (her rape at the age of eight when in St. Louis With her mother) and humiliation (a brief spell in the kitchen of a white woman who refused to remember her name) and fear (of a lynching—and the time they buried afflicted Uncle Willie under a blanket of vegetables) as well as all the unanswered and unanswerable questions, there are affirmative memories and moments: her charming brother Bailey; her own "unshakable God"; a revival meeting in a tent; her 8th grade graduation; and at the end, when she's sixteen, the birth of a baby. Times When as she says "It seemed that the peace of a day's ending was an assurance that the covenant God made with children, Negroes and the crippled was still in effect."

However charily one should apply the word, a beautiful book, an unconditionally involving memoir for our time or any time.

Pub Date: Feb. 1, 1969

ISBN: 0375507892

Page Count: 235

Publisher: Random House

Review Posted Online: May 14, 2012

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1969

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