Social History (as opposed to "official" history) has emerged as its own genre in recent years. Perhaps its most famous book is Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States. I'll also add to that my personal favorite American Nations. These books eschew the standard fare "big events" or "names and dates" approach to history to focus on the human aspect. Some do this better than others. I'm not opposed to the "big event" type of history - they are, after all, big events. But I support these writers and historians for telling the stories that give a sense of what it was like for people at the time. It seems that so often people are treated as kind of the backdrop of history even though they're the ones fighting the wars, holding the elections, producing the works of art, winning the contests, inventing those better light bulbs. And naturally, since these are effort to tell more of the story, such history is usually told with a focus on those who has been largely left out of the story - the disenfranchised, the abused, the misremembered and ultimately forgotten. Again, I'm all about setting the story straight and telling it like it is, so I'm all in favor of a telling these stories and bringing truth to the light.
However, throughout this genre there is another common theme. I believe that these writers and historians are acting in good faith and aim to right the wrongs of history. I believe there is so much focus on the people that have been wronged, and specifically on the what was done to them, that these become histories of victims and monsters. I want to be careful with this point so that it's clear what I'm saying, and what I'm not saying. A People's History is perhaps the best and most often-cited example of this. I've read reviews from critics saying that it's Anti-American. I've had conversations about that book where people have told me that Zinn is biased against white people and "the establishment", just trying to defame America out of spite, to sell books, to score points with minorities. Now that's a bit much. From what I can tell, Zinn seemed like he really wanted to balance out the history books by bringing to light the shameful stories in our history. Because it's our history - all of us. Not pretty, but it did happen and we must recognize it. And to that point, I totally agree and support him. But I have a problem with his approach. Yes, we do need to face the land grabs of the Mexican-American War and the Spanish-American War. Yes, we do need to face the history of slavery in all its ugliness. Yes, we do need to acknowledge the role of privilege throughout American history, privilege of race, sex, religion, association, and so on. Yes, we do need to acknowledge that the public institutions created of, for, and by the people have often been exploited for the interests of those in power at the expense of the rest. I'm on board with all of this. But it can't be only this. What is the sum effect of talking exclusively about the evils committed by the United States government? Or on the American Indians exclusively as victims of genocide? Or of black people exclusively as people struggling against slavery, Jim Crow, and pervasive, ongoing racism? There must be more to the story. Otherwise, the very groups you aim to humanize back into the story are exploited as props and placeholders in your own version of history, and stripped of their humanity all the same. There’s more to black people than racism ¬¬– so let’s round out the story here. In other words, by focusing exclusively on institutions as agents of wrongdoing, and on people as noble victims but victims nonetheless, it doesn't balance out the story - it creates a politically and ideologically charged polemic, and it aims it at anyone comfortable with the status quo. I can't emphasize this enough - I'm all for challenging the status quo and for getting people out of their comfort zones, but I can't believe this is the way to do it. "Us versus them". "Drawing a line in the sand." "With the people or against the people" is still an ultimatum. Is there another way? Is there a way to tell these stories without creating more division? Can we find a way that fosters understanding, and reaches out to people that don't feel comfortable looking at these events in history? Yes, Frederick Douglass and Martin Luther King shook the world, and their stories are woven into the big events of history. But George Washington Carver was subject to the very same institutions of slavery and Jim Crow that they struggled against; Carver didn't have any stories with the heroic courage of Douglass, or the grand and noble dignity of King. Yet he was still a giant of industry (to this day, how many commercial products contain peanuts) and a scientist who never really got his due in the history books. Who will tell his story? (Okay, I read a biography on him in the 5th grade, and it left a huge impression on me, but you know what I mean.) History is not just blood and guts, shame and glory. Surely someone can take an honest look at it, and capture the things that fell in between.
Enter Ronald Takaki. I doubt he set out to write the definitive book on multiculturalism in American history. No single book could do that. In fact, that's kind of the whole idea. But with that said, I doubt anyone could do a better job to capture so much, written so eloquently, with a fair and even hand. As you'd expect from the above, so many of these stories are sad. So sad. A lot of betrayal. A lot of exploitation. A lot of hardship and defeat. But also a lot of success through struggle. A lot of hope, joy, humor, cleverness, and of course a bit of luck. After all, these are real stories of real people. Who would tell your story? Or the story of your hometown? Would it be a sad story? Or a glorious story? Would it be a boring story? It would probably be a mixed bag - so many people, so many things happening over so many years. I think Takaki set out to capture that, and I can't imagine he did it so well by accidental. There's no single tone throughout the book, nor even throughout a section. He captured so much of the uniqueness, the specialness of all the different groups of people he talks about. No, never treating them as a caricature, but more than that, never trying to reduce them to a singular identity, a singular narrative. These are groups of people; no single story could tell it all.
It may seem strange that I wrote such a long introduction for such a short review. I did this for two reason. First, I wanted to place this book in that genre of social history, which I do believe is correct, but I wanted to make it clear that this stands apart from so many other popular books that define that genre. I'm not saying those other books are bad, but they're so often typical of what I described above. And since I don't know of any word to capture that, I had to spell it out so I can clearly contrast it against A Different Mirror. And second, I don't want to over-sell this book, but I really thought it was an excellent work of history and of writing, and there's no way I could capture that in a review. If you have any interest in this topic, I highly recommend this book.
Before I close, a couple quick notes about the style and some devices Takaki uses. First, he never seems to go for big effects - no action scenes, no hard contrasts to evoke a reaction. I think he accepts the stories are strong enough on their own that no Hollywood movie magic is required, and would only lessen the effect compared to telling the stories plainly. Second, in the first several chapters he employs a device of using Shakespeare's The Tempest with its character Caliban personifying the Other incarnate. Takaki doesn't overplay it, but he uses this as a metaphor or even as a model to illustrate how English colonists would have understood the new peoples they came into contact with. It's not a perfect metaphor, but I think he employs it well, even if only as a reminder that English people in 1610 did not have the same experience, ideas, values, or exposure to information that we do today. Finally, the organization and style is entirely his own, but the text is saturated with direct quotations. There was a far higher percentage of quoted language in this text than, probably, anything I've ever read. It's not just the volume of quoted text, but it's skillful application. He must have a huge amount of material to draw from because he always seems to have just the right quote to capture the sentiment. This heavy use of quotation both tethers the book close to the topic (no waxing philosophical) and it gives a lot of voice and personality to the people themselves. It's subtle but powerful.
So overall, good writing, good topic, great style, excellent work.