“At last I had the authority to give direction over the whole scene. I felt as if I were walking with destiny, and that all my past life had been but a preparation for this hour and for this trial…I thought I knew a good deal about it all, and I was sure I should not fail. Therefore, although impatient for the morning, I slept soundly and had no need for cheering dreams. Facts are better than dreams.”
- Winston Churchill, upon becoming Prime Minister in 1940
How do you fit a life as long and full as Winston Churchill’s into a single volume? The answer is that you need a big book, one that is figuratively (and nearly literally) the size of Churchill himself. Andrew Roberts’ Churchill: Walking With Destiny is a big book. I do not mean to dwell on the size of this volume, but it is prodigious. It is 982 pages of text, not including endnotes, index, and bibliography, and it attempts to at least mention every incident of Churchill’s existence, from his birth in 1874, to his death ninety years later.
Churchill’s resume is one of those things that tend to make you feel bad about yourself. He was a soldier, reporter, writer, and politician. He fought dervishes, escaped from a Boer prisoner-of-war camp, and held almost every cabinet position in the British government. He made mistakes that would have destroyed the careers of lesser men, but nevertheless rose to become Hitler’s chief nemesis, enough of a thorn to be name-checked in der Führer’s speeches. He delivered epigrams with the flair of Samuel Johnson, won the Nobel Prize in literature, amassed and squandered great fortunes, and did it all while consuming heroic quantities of alcohol and cigars (though, as Roberts is at pains to point out, on numerous occasions, he seldom got drunk).
On the other hand, I wore sweatpants all day yesterday, and will probably do the same today.
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The sheer amount of things Churchill did is frankly a bit exhausting, as is this exhaustive book. Things are rolling from the very start with a relentless pace that matches its subject. Fitting Churchill’s whole life between just two covers requires that kind of pacing, and also a bit of cramming. On a single page, for instance, Roberts covers the suicide of Churchill’s brother in law, the death of his American mother, and the sexual assault of his son at school. This is a take-a-breath-and-hold it storytelling style, with little space for reflection. Roberts also makes full use of oft-amusing footnotes to add further trivia to the proceedings.
The structure of Walking With Destiny is purely chronological. Thankfully, each chapter includes the relevant period that is being covered, so all you have to do to stay oriented is look at the top of the page to know exactly where you are on the timeline. This is a little thing, but it's a nice thing, and it's the nice little things that make life better.
***
Unfortunately, in order to get all the facts on page, there is a tradeoff in analytical depth. Churchill made a lot of decisions in his life, some good, some catastrophic, but none of them get the treatment they deserve. Roberts gives Churchill a pass for the Dardanelles operation, for instance, but does so in a rather conclusory manner, cherry-picking quotes and referring vaguely to “modern historians” to support Churchill’s pet operation. But this shotgun approach is never satisfactory (especially since, at other points, Roberts acknowledges Gallipoli as a mistake). With space limitations an obvious factor, hugely momentous choices – such as unleashing the furies of Bomber Command on Dresden – do not even get an airing.
To be sure, Roberts does a fine job as an investigator, utilizing a wide variety of sources, including recently-revealed diary entries from King George VI. However, there is nothing here that radically changes my perception of Churchill. Despite its great length, Walking With Destiny is short on keen insights. Saying that Churchill was haunted by his father and loved the Empire is not a unique observation. Rather, the portrait presented is very much a colonial-era throwback, a familiar Great Man history that is so blushingly positive that it feels exceedingly out of place in a post-colonial world (more on that below).
***
I took a lot of notes during my reading, but in nearly 1,000 pages, I don’t think I highlighted a single line of Roberts’ prose. This surprised me a bit, since this was a pleasurable reading experience (which is important when we're talking about a 982-page infant-sized book). Then it struck me: Roberts makes so much use of Churchill’s own words, that he essentially allows his biographical subject to write his own biography. This is not a literary problem, since Churchill is one of history’s unparalleled narrators. It is, however, a historical problem. Churchill has already done incredible damage to the record by his hugely popular memoirs, which masquerade as objective history. Roberts doesn’t simply allow this trend to continue. He gives it a modern-day boost. It is telling that almost every chapter begins with not one, but two Churchill quotes.
***
Before I continue, I should add that I really enjoyed this for what it is: a deeply-researched and obsessively detailed hagiography. By the end, I felt I knew Churchill personally, intimately, and I missed him when he was gone. It was especially hard to read about Churchill's long demise. As unconquerable as he was, Churchill could not defeat Time, and this made me feel incredibly mortal. Nevertheless, Walking With Destiny did nothing to convince me that Roberts' interpretation of Churchill is accurate. It is so laudatory that I am left to assume that the chapter where Winston created the world while drinking a scotch-and-soda, and then wrote a seven-volume series of books about it on the seventh day, was left on the cutting room floor.
Part of the problem with attempting to do so much in only a single volume is that Roberts is not able to expand his view to include multidimensional portraits of the other people in Churchill’s life. The result is that Churchill sucks all the air out of the room. Colossal, world-historical figures such as Franklin D. Roosevelt are reduced to nonentities with no agency of their own, pawns to Churchill’s will.
In the same vein, everyone who criticizes Churchill, such as Alan Brooke and Andrew Cunningham, are libeled as bitter know-nothings, their entire lives apparently motivated by a sincere desire to destroy Churchill’s reputation in their private writings. At one point, Roberts comes off as personally affronted that Field Marshal Brooke thought that Churchill was a terrible strategist. Instead of providing honest critiques (and instead of accepting that it was possible to criticize Churchill in good faith), Roberts too often prefers to quote from such unbiased sources as Churchill’s daughter, who unsurprisingly found her father’s every action “brilliant!” or “superb!”
Don’t get me wrong: Roberts acknowledges the screw ups. But that is all he does. And I mean that quite specifically. When Churchill drops the ball, Roberts will write something to the affect that his actions had been “unfortunate” or that it was not his “finest hour” (yes – he actually uses that very phrase). This gentle scolding is as far as he will go. I find that very difficult to accept, especially since one facet of Churchill’s character was his proud belief in white supremacy, manifested most infamously in his attitude towards giving self-government to India. I am not advocating that Churchill be removed from the curriculum of school children (which Roberts insists is occurring). To the contrary, I fully support huge books on Churchill, and the proposition that he was a major figure in the defeat of Adolf Hitler (which has to be counted among the more important moments in history). But in 1,000 pages, you have to give the bad along with the good, and you have to do it truthfully. Frankly, Churchill had some pretty major blind spots and character flaws, and those should have been accounted for, rather than given the yada-yada treatment as though he didn't floss enough. In other words, it's not enough to just mention the bad, the misguided, and the ugly; you have to reflect on it, too.
***
This is a good book that falls well short of being a classic. I want to repeat that first part: this is a good book. If you wanted to read a book on Churchill, and you asked me if you should read this book on Churchill, I'd say yes. If you don’t know anything about him, you will learn a lot. Even if you know a bunch about him, you will discover new things. Also, if you read this on a plane or a bus or a train, people will be super impressed by the huge book you have. Unless you have a Kindle. If you have a Kindle, people will probably just assume you are reading James Patterson.
***
Yet, Roberts could have done more. This should have been a Lincoln-esque tale of a man who overcame a series of failures to rise, at the precise moment his country – indeed, the free nations of earth – needed him to rise, to ultimately prevail on the world’s stage at a time of inestimable danger, when good and evil grappled on the edge of a knife. Instead, Roberts gives us Sir Winston the Great White Imperialist, who would have won World War I if he hadn’t been surrounded by idiots; who invented the tank and the British Air Force and his own persona; who was the only man in the wide world who saw the danger in Hitler and Stalin before the cataclysm; and who single-handedly guided the Allies to victory in World War II.
This is inaccurate. Worse, it’s not that interesting. I am far more fascinated by complex and flawed heroes, because there is something incredibly noble and powerful about human beings overcoming their contradictions and imperfections to achieve greatness. There is nothing inherently appealing about a perfect knight, for the simple reason that such a figure exists only in myths and fairy tales.