Reflections: MacKinlay Kantor’s Novel, Andersonville

MacKinlay Kantor’s novel, Andersonville, won the 1956 Pulitzer Prize. A friend, knowing my interest in the Civil War, gave me the novel a few weeks ago. Expecting the worst and expecting the usually heard information on Andersonville and the treatment of prisoners of war there, I plowed into it. I was surprised to find a balanced novel that uses a Southern protagonist and that reflects decades of research.  Unless the reader allows them to slip by, the historic facts in the novel help tell the real story of Andersonville. For example, the novel reveals how Wirz really did try his best in an impossible situation, how the Northern leaders refused to allow prisoner exchange, even when our representatives pointed out to them how the South could not adequately take care of so many prisoners, and how the thugs among the Northern prisoners victimized the Union soldiers far more than their jailers.  The characters who walk through the novel’s 760 pages represent nearly every strata of American society during the Civil War, making the novel to be a panorama of our nation.

Kantor’s writing style reminded me of Cormac McCarthy—it is intense, with vivid interior and exterior realism.  If you want to know the facts of Andersonville you can find them elsewhere, but if you want to experience Andersonville from both a Southern and Northern perspective, you need to read this novel.

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 29

I love Shakespeare’s sonnets. Every one of them written in perfect Elizabethan rhyme scheme in perfect iambic pentameter. Which is your favorite sonnet? Here’s Sonnet 29 that has always meant a lot to me, more so these days for some reason.

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,–and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings’.

I found the sonnet online here: http://www.albionmich.com/inspiration/whenindisgrace.html