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PPM Picks: ENGLISH HISTORY MADE BRIEF, IRREVERENT, AND PLEASURABLE

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By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

When I visited the Tower of London in the summer of 2015, I was greatly intrigued. Not just by the gruesome tales of torture and beheadings, mind you, but by the Beefeaters who served as tour guides. Ours was particularly lively.

“Any Americans here?” he asked at the outset. A few of us raised our hands.

“If you had paid your taxes, all this could be yours!”

He then asked if any of us had studied American History. I raised my hand. At the time, I was a social studies teacher.

“That took you what, two hours? You’re about to find out what history really means.”

All jokes aside, he’s not incorrect. Coming from a land where “old” means two hundred years ago, I found it hard to fathom artifacts and architecture dating back to the twelfth century. English history can be daunting, a seemingly endless parade of depraved monarchs, bloody conquest, and political betrayal that somehow resulted in a modern culture of stiff upper lips, quiet dignity, and tea.

Fortunately, then, we have Lacey Baldwin Smith’s aptly titled English History Made Brief, Irreverent, and Pleasurable, which cover nearly two millennia in fewer pages than J. K. Rowling needs to describe a semester at Hogwarts. Those of us with a cursory knowledge of the United Kingdom learn a great deal, quickly and without succumbing to boredom.

Of particular interest to me was the final chapter, which examines the reign of every British monarch in brief, providing lots of historical gossip in the process. Myths are punctured, legends are replaced with the (often more interesting) truth. If your knowledge of English monarchs comes from Shakespeare and Hollywood, this may surprise and delight you.

PPM Picks: THE BEST AND THE BRIGHTEST

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By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

One of the reasons people love reading about presidential pets is that it allows them to see behind the carefully managed political events they’re used to. Yes, presidents use their animal companions as political tools, but something real, something unscripted comes out when people and pets interact. We relish seeing these iconic figures being real.

For the same reason, I have long enjoyed behind-the-scenes histories of the White House. Bob Woodward is probably the most famous chronicler of executive intrigue, but he wasn’t the first. Around four years before the excellent Woodward and Carl Bernstein book The Final Days (which detailed the end of Nixon’s presidency), David Halberstam had compiled a massive, sobering book called The Best and the Brightest, which explained in great detail how America entered the Vietnam War.

Halberstam had been in Saigon in 1962 as a young reporter for the New York Times. He arrived with the idea that the North Vietnamese communists could and should be stopped, but, as time passed, he realized that the realities of the war did not support the optimism of American politicians. He had believed in the rational, moderate men of the Kennedy administration, men of wit and charm and brilliance. How these left-leaning intellectuals walked into a horrific foreign policy disaster puzzled him, and so he set out to write this book.

As you might have guessed, this is history, not a gossip-soaked beach read like the recent Fire and Fury. Halberstam cares about the private lives of these men only if they impact the decision-making process. We don’t hear about affairs or unhappy marriages. What we get is the extensive debate about American foreign policy that occurred at the highest levels of government in the 1950s and 1960s, as well as detailed backgrounds on all of the major players–Robert McNamara, Dean Rusk, George Ball, and others. Presidents Kennedy and Johnson are not the focus, although we get to know them from the way they respond to pressure and the choices they make. It is not a particularly flattering portrait of either.

We all want our government to be run by intelligent leaders, but Halberstam draws a distinction between genius and wisdom. It’s good to be smarts, but it’s better to be wise.

PPM Picks: THE DOGS OF CAMELOT

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By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

It seems almost silly to write a lengthy review of The Dogs of Camelot. If you are visiting this website, particularly if you come here often, you need to read this book in the same way someone studying American novels needs to read The Great Gatsby or someone studying film needs to see The Wizard of Oz. This is essential presidential pet reading.

Filled with photos and anecdotes reaching back to John F. Kennedy’s childhood, Margaret Reed and Joan Lownds’ history is a warm portrait of a man who loved dogs (despite his allergies). Each White House-era canine is covered with his or her own chapter. We learn birth dates, breeders, how the Kennedy family acquired each pup, and everything important related to that dog’s life through the fall of 1963 and beyond.

The authors spent countless hours sifting through archives at the Kennedy library, reading oral histories and notes. They also make good use of Dog Days at the White House, the classic memoir of JFK’s dog wrangler, Traphes Bryant. This legwork pays dividends.

They take great care to place each animal in the history of the era. The book notes, for example, that during the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis, JFK took a quick break from high-level discussions to play with Charlie and center himself before making critical decisions. Even presidents sometimes need emotional support animals,

The Dogs of Camelot is, above all, a satisfying read. As Labor Day approaches and you try to squeeze in one more beach book, consider this page-turner. It overflows with history, good humor, and a strong love of dogs. If you’re here, you need it.

PPM Picks: THE LAST MAN ON THE MOON

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By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

Eugene Cernan will never be as widely known as Neil Armstrong. Everyone knows the first man on the moon–his “one small step” quote is embedded in our culture and Ryan Gosling will play him in a movie this fall. Cernan, by contrast, appears in the documentary The Last Man on the Moon (based on his own memoir) but has never been a household name. He is the last of only 12 men who have stood on the lunar surface, but he wasn’t first.

The Last Man on the Moon does not wallow in resentment or self-pity. Armstrong and Cernan were friends, and Cernan felt fortunate to be allowed the chance to travel to space at all. Rather, the movie digs into the more mundane aspects of astronaut life–the long work hours, the emotional strain on their families, the bonds between the men. The neat trick here is that these astronauts feel like real people, not icons, so every tragedy and triumph resonates that much more. This film is startlingly emotional.

It’s also beautiful. Combining actual footage and some re-creations, director Mark Craig creates a visually stunning companion to Cernan’s engaging narration. Key events–particularly Cernan’s spacewalk during the Gemini 9 mission–offer both tension and beauty.

What’s most appealing about The Last Man on the Moon, however, is it’s complete lack of triumphalism. Cernan did important, exciting things, but the sacrifices made by his wife and daughter are not brushed aside. Career devotion comes at a cost, one that both the movie and the man acknowledge. You don’t walk on the moon if your life isn’t fully dedicated to NASA, and though your spouse and child are supportive and proud, no doubt they would prefer more time with you.

“If you think going to the moon is hard,” Cernan’s first wife, Barbara says, “try staying home.”

PPM Picks: THE NATURALIST

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By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

There’s a caricature of Theodore Roosevelt as a hyper-masculine blowhard bulldozing his way through life. Not only did he carry a big stick, but he used it, both in politics and in his private life. He embodied a certain patrician ruggedness, and in no place is this more evident than in his love of hunting.

To be sure, one can find evidence to support this view of the president. Indeed, depending on the biography of TR you read, you could be forgiven for feeling that the above description is the sum of the man. Happily, Darrin Lunde’s The Naturalist focuses solely on Teddy’s relationship with the natural world, and it provides a great deal of context for better understanding the man and his times.

Full disclosure–I have been hunting. Members of my family hunt for food. I find it boring, but not morally objectionable. Big game hunting, however, where rich men pay exorbitant fees for the chance to kill a large animal for bragging rights, repulses me. My relationship to TR has always been filtered through my knowledge that he enjoyed killing lions and rhinos, shooting over 200 large animals on his post-presidential African safari. Fortunately, Lunde argues persuasively that Roosevelt’s hunts were less about masculinity than about science.

The Naturalist opens with young Teddy, age eight, acquiring the head of a seal from a New York grocer. The boy took it home, cleaned the skull (by boiling or by allowing beetles to eat the flesh), and started his own museum with the end result. From that point, science had hooked him. He collected birds and mice and other small creatures, examining them, taking copious notes, and stuffing them. He longed to become a naturalist, hunting rare animals on behalf of museums, providing specimens for laboratory scientists to examine. His professional life took a different path, obviously, but in his free time, he continued to study animals.

In the late nineteenth century, hunting was an important part of being a naturalist. Without specimens to examine, scientists could not properly determine the differences between species or understand animal anatomy. Many of the tens of thousands of specimens in the Smithsonian’s collection came from amateurs like Roosevelt. These men enjoyed the hunt, yes, but their act served a greater purpose than providing a weekend’s adventure.

Contextualizing TR’s sporting life for modern readers is no small achievement. We have assumptions about endangered animals and the environment that are descended from the views held by men like him. As I read, I was surprised to find myself admiring TR the hunter. Your take may differ from mine, but The Naturalist is certainly a must-read for those who wish to better understand Roosevelt.

PPM Picks: ISLE OF DOGS

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By Andrew Hager, Historian-in-residence

PPM Picks is a weekly feature offering film, book, or music recommendations from our staff. The links provided in the article go to product listings on Amazon. Purchases made using these links support the Presidential Pet Museum. That said, we were not paid to review or promote any of the items mentioned. We just legitimately like them.

Wes Anderson movies all share a distinct aesthetic. Each has impeccable, painterly shot compositions, a droll sense of humor, vintage pop music, and outcast characters learning to live together. The Grand Budapest Hotel and The Royal Tenenbaums marshal incredible casts to serve his unique vision. Now, with Isle of Dogs, he uses stop-motion animation to similarly great effect.

Set in the near future, Dogs concerns an epidemic of dog flu so severe that all canines in the Japanese city of Megasaki have been exiled to Trash Island, where they can die without infecting the human populace. The local mayor is riding high from having solved the crisis, but his 12 year old ward, Atari, has disappeared, heading off to find his furry best friend. Once on the island, he meets a pack of democratic, garbage-eating mutts who decide to help him.

Visually, Anderson references Akira Kurosawa and other Japanese filmmakers while also adding his own touches. Any shots representing a canine point of view, for instance, lack red and green, rendering the mild colorblindness of a dog’s sight. The dogs themselves are adorable but never overly cute.

The voice cast includes Bill Murray, Frances McDormand, Jeff Goldblum, Bryan Cranston, Scarlett Johansson, Greta Gerwig, and Yoko Ono. The score, written by Alexandre Desplat, uses traditional Japanese drums to great effect. Anderson’s striking visual work is thus complemented by an equally compelling soundtrack.

His previous foray into animation, the fantastic Fantastic Mr. Fox fell more squarely into the genre of “family” film. Isle of Dogs, while not overly graphic in content, positions itself as entertainment for slightly older, artistically adventurous children. There are no cheap pop culture references or fart jokes here, no radio-ready pop songs over the closing credits. This is an art film kids can enjoy, one that cinema-savvy parents will like even more.

Available July 17. Pre-Order now!

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