C.S. Lewis cautioned writers, "Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say 'infinitely' when you mean 'very'; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite."
I know what he meant, because after reading a work like this, I question most of the times I have given other authors a they-hit-what-they-were-aiming-at five-star rating. William Manchester's "aim" is sweeping, a narrative history of the years between 1932 and 1972, the first 20 of which are covered in what I deem the first volume. He leaves himself a lot of room to either bore the reader with too much material or leave him or her discontent because something was left out, but he shows himself, again, to be a writer of exquisite taste and pacing.
He can trace trends to keep the reader from getting lost in details, for instance connecting adolescent rebellion in the 30s to it's not altogether different manifestations in the 40s and to its near absence in the 50s. Conversely, he can rivet the reader's attention by re-creating a world of detail and texture right before seminal events like Pearl Harbor or the death of FDR. He can put the reader in Truman's company as the new president prepares for his first day with monumental presidential responsibilities, and he can deftly remind the reader whose attention, whose comprehension he so dearly regards that while these world-shaping events were going on, this or that future great personage was eight, or 10, or 12 and was being shaped by events just as much as he or she would later shape them.
For almost 30 hours in Manchester's literary company, (Okay, it was significantly less than that because I can listen at triple speed.) I was never bored, and, if anything, I experienced odd regret that we had come so far and wouldn't transverse the same ground again. I'm a literary dilettante, and I already gave this author his share of attention reading the third volume of hits Winston Churchill biography and his dirge on the tragic weekend of the Kennedy assassination recently, but I'm fairly well convinced I would be content and even enlarged if I read nothing but William Manchester, Will Durant, and Barbara Tuchman. He's in that pantheon, and I'll be back again for his second "volume" covering the 1960s that already captivate me and then again for his tome on the subject of Douglas MacArthur that clearly captivates Manchester.