An odd piece of nonfiction, Robert Sullivan's most recent book, his first since the, now that I think about it, equally odd Rats. Sort of essay-ish, sort of history, sort of stunt journalism, My American Revolution takes as its starting point Sullivan's realization that most of America's Revolutionary War was fought and nearly lost and eventually won NOT in New England or Virginia, but rather right here in what local TV news anchors like to call the Tri-State Area. Manhattan and Brooklyn, Northern New Jersey, Southern Connecticut. In fact, Sullivan points out that you can actually see many of the war's most significant battle sites and staging grounds from a single vantage point, the observation deck atop the Empire State Building.
To tell the stories that his insight provokes, Sullivan slogs around former battlefields, witnesses re-enactments (most notably, Washington's crossing of the Delaware), marches upon former, um, march-routes, and ruminates. And ruminates some more. He tries to connect semi-spiritually to ghosts of the past. He interviews everyone, from obsessive re-enactors to fellow history buffs to random folks he meets on his adventures. There are some interesting perspectives here, for instance on the pivotal (though somewhat arbitrary and always utterly neutral) role often played by geography in events of great historical significance. Sullivan tries to destroy some persistent myths, he shares some fun Revolutionary War trivia, and he delivers a few genuinely great moments, including the book's final act, when he embarks upon a reenactment of his own devising, attempting to communicate from the Watchung mountains of New Jersey to his daughter's high school in Brooklyn via a hand-held mirror, reflecting the sun. But the book loses focus too often, it reads much longer than it is, and Sullivan isn't really humorous enough to pull off some of the material. In fact, I would suggest skipping this and reading Tony Horwitz's excellent Confederates in the Attic, which takes a similar look at the Civil War.