something about "Believer: My Forty Years in Politics" by David Axelrod

David Axelrod emerged on the national political scene as Barack Obama's invaluable strategist during the 2008 campaign. After the campaign, Axelrod stayed on as Obama's senior advisor for half of the first term. He returned to the campaign trail for Obama in 2012. While these events, covered in Axelrod's memoir, Believer, are momentous, I enjoyed the beginning of Axelrod's story most of all.

When he was a child, the future strategist, born in New York City, witnessed a John F. Kennedy campaign speech. Axelrod cites that moment as a formative experience. He had caught and internalized the political optimism of the day. He recalls the experience with undiminished sincerity.

I also enjoyed his brief recount of Chicago's modern political history. This memoir also offers a little of the guilty pleasure of gossipy criticism, such as when Axelrod criticizes Elizabeth Edwards for micromanaging the 2004 presidential campaign of her husband, John.

Axelrod went to college in Chicago, then started as a journalist investigating Chicago politics and corruption. He had his own column in a city paper by age 18. Axelrod was friends with Obama long before they campaigned together, both having built careers out of Chicago politics.
 
Axelrod keeps the narrative moving. He could have written a whole book on just the first week in the White House, with the whole country groaning under the weight of the the financial crisis. But Axelrod gives those monumental days only the standard highlight reel. His writing is crisp, clever, and often funny. His forty-year career goes by too fast at times. He is an underrated and undervalued figure in our national politics. His enduring belief in the promise of America is precious.

(posts) a doodle

anything but about idealism

Countries speak to ideals, but are never kind to idealists.

one of many things about Camus' "The Stranger"

(aka "The Outsider" or "L’Étranger")

Albert Camus' The Stranger begins with the main character, Meursault, attending to his mother's funeral. He resumes his life the day after the funeral, but quite soon kills a man in cold blood, apparently, and stands trial. It is not so much his murderous act, but rather his earlier callousness and inexplicable behavior after his mother's death that are used as evidence to convict him.

It's boilerplate to say Camus' The Stranger depicts a brand of existentialism. But even so, Meursault is not readily understood, though, oddly enough, he's completely relatable. Maybe this is because he also personifies another philosophy--one we all have but hate to admit to, a way of life that does not always seem conventionally noble: Pragmatism. 

The novella first casts pragmatism as universal, a view everyone adopts at one time or another.* Then, pragmatism, in all its beauty and brutishness, is contrasted with and convicted by lofty, often unrealistic ideals like nobility and justice.

Here are examples of how pragmatism is depicted as a quite ordinary mode of life, as universal: In accepting his mother's death, Meursault says, "The funeral will bring it home to me, put an official seal on it, so to speak ... " (p. 2). When he arrives at the retirement home chapel, the caretaker is too busy to greet him right away; then, when he arrives, Meursault immediately asks to see mother's body, but the caretaker has already rested the lid on the coffin. When asked, Meursault declines to have the lid removed for viewing. Here, the "official seal" is already on, and he need not see the body for repeated closure. His not viewing the body is later deemed criminal. But, meanwhile, the warden denies the other retirement home residents access to much of the ceremony because death, he says, puts them "in a nervous state for two or three days. Which means, of course, extra work and worry for our staff" (p. 4). The whole sequence goes on like this, Meursault just going through motions and the staff joining him and cutting corners of their own. In this way pragmatism is first cast as universal--everyone seeks their own convenience much of the time.

When retold in the courtroom, it is Meursault's behavior, not everyone else's, that is reexamined--reexamined out of context. And behavior that was previously all too human is on second thought deemed inhumane.

* Pragmatism may be easily confused with, and, in a sense, interchangeable with selfishness.

Notes: 

• On the matter of mourning: Meursault doesn't give much sign of mourning for his mother. But the novel shows that mourning is usually centered on oneself rather than the deceased--you mourn your own loss, not the death of the other. For example, when an elderly woman cries at the wake, the caretaker explains, "She was devoted to your mother. She says your mother was her only friend in the world, and now she's all alone" (p. 12). This is the only person who cries throughout. Compare this scene to one later in the novella in which Meursault's neighbor loses his dog and suffers for it; on the suggestion that the pound might euthanize the mutt, the neighbor, Salamano, is quoted as saying, "'They won't really take him from me, will they, Monsieur Meursault? Surely they wouldn't do a thing like that. If they do, I don't know what will become of me'" (p. 50). Then, after Meursault and Salamano return to their respective rooms, we hear Meursault thinking, "Through the wall there came to me a little wheezing sound, and I guessed that he (Salamano) was weeping. For some reason, I don't know what, I began thinking of mother" (p. 50). And, on the astonishing final page, Meursault speaks again of this mourning, judging it so: "With death so near, Mother have felt like someone on the brink of freedom, ready to start life all over again. No one, no one in the world had any right to weep for her" (p. 154). 

• The murder is still a bit of a mystery, though not entirely. 

A favorite line:

On leaving another neighbor's apartment drunk on wine:

After closing the door behind me I lingered for some moments on the landing. The whole building was quiet as the grave, a dank, dark smell rising from the well hole of the stairs. I could hear nothing but the blood throbbing in my ears, and for a while I stood still, listening to it. Then the dog began to moan in old Salamano's room, and, through the sleep-bound house the little plaintive sound rose slowly, like a flower growing out of the silence and the darkness (p. 42).

About the TV show "Leave It to Beaver" (1957-1963)

Compared to "grittier", more recent television shows like Norman Lear's work in the 1970's and early "Rosanne", "Leave It to Beaver" is often critically dismissed for three reasons: (1) it's bourgeoisie idealism, a show (often seen as representative of other shows of the era) whose producers were either too disconnected or too disinterested to deal with darker, more important themes and problems; (2) the parenting it portrayed set too high a bar for those in the real-life business of parenting; (3) it oversimplified life with cut-and-dried narrative archs. (An example of this last criticism lies in the IMDB plot summary for the show: "Unlike real life, these situations are always easily resolved to the satisfaction of all involved and the Beaver gets off with a few stern moralistic words of parental advice.")

After watching the show the last several weeks, these critical write-offs seem way too hasty.

That the setting is a middle class suburb, that Ward and June can make it look pretty easy, and that problems arise and see resolution within the episode are all arguable enough. But none of these issues are unique to "Leave It to Beaver" or shows of its era. Moreover, consider the show's context: first, the middle class was booming then, so upward mobility was real (more so than now); second, the show was aimed at families, so its arch and content were built accordingly.

So those criticisms are a little unfair. Worse, they are conventional. They are conversation enders that cut off any real consideration of the show's merits. And it definitely had merits.

It wasn't like Beaver would just drop his lollipop in the mud and learn to be careful. No, the conflicts and themes could be substantial. Beaver might learn about the nature of trust--that trust is often necessary, that trust can be betrayed, and that trust can redeem the trusted and the trustee. He might learn about making choices by feeling regret. He might learn about responsibility after being disappointed or disappointing others. He might learn that there can be more to a person than the impression they make. And there were episodes in which he saw and met people outside his privileged suburban middle class world. Jealousy, money, status, honesty, popularity, peer pressure--all covered, and not always "to the satisfaction of all involved". In some episodes it was Ward and June whose eyes were opened.

Not every episode hit a home run but "Leave It to Beaver" deserves way more credit than it usually gets.

Note:

• In one stellar episode called "Eddie Spends the Night", Eddie Haskel, whose parents are out of town, is invited to stay at the Cleavers. That evening he and Wally fight and in protest Eddie goes home to an empty house. At first the Cleavers are relieved, but soon Ward and June remember their responsibility and lobby Wally to re-invite Eddie. Wally finds Eddie home alone and evidently a little scared of being by himself, though he tries not to show it. After first pretending (for Wally's benefit) to demand his father allow him to return, Eddie rejoins Wally. The next day Eddie confesses to Beaver that he hates being alone because, even though he acts like a big shot all the time, he can't pretend to himself that he's as confident and popular as he wants to be.