An insightful biography of an unassuming literary scholar—and spy—who transformed postwar American culture. Although his impact on twentieth-century American cultural life was profound, few people know the story of Norman Holmes Pearson. His life embodies the Cold War alliances among US artists, scholars, and the national-security state that coalesced after World War II. As a Yale professor and editor, he helped legitimize the study of American culture and shaped the public’s understanding of literary modernism—significantly, the work of women poets such as Hilda Doolittle and Gertrude Stein. At the same time, as a spy, recruiter, and cultural diplomat, he connected the academy, the State Department, and even the CIA.In Code Name Puritan, Greg Barnhisel maps Pearson’s life, from his youthful injury that led to a visible, permanent disability; to his wartime counterespionage work neutralizing the Nazis’ spy network; to his powerful role in the cultural and political heyday sometimes called the American Century. Written with clarity and informed by meticulous research, Barnhisel’s revelatory portrait of Pearson details how his unique experiences shaped his beliefs about American character, from the Puritans onward.
Greg Barnhisel teaches in the English department at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh. His previous books include James Laughlin, New Directions, and the Remaking of Ezra Pound and, with Catherine Turner, Pressing the Fight: Print, Propaganda, and the Cold War.
I picked up this book primarily to read about academics in the OSS, an old interest. The book does have a couple of chapters about Pearson's time with X-2, the OSS counter-intelligence unit, but a limited amount about his actual intelligence work. There is a lot more about Pearson and Yale, Pearson and modernist literature (especially his relationship with Bryher and HD), and Pearson's role as a founder of American Studies as a formal academic discipline.
I gave this book a three partly because it tries to do too many things and partly because at the end I didn't like Pearson much. He exemplifies many of the things I like least about American higher education, especially the more elite branch: glad-handing, influence peddling, and backroom politics. He appeared to play fast and loose with other people's money and seems to have a tax-dodger on a sizable scale.
Overall, somewhat disappointing. If you are interested in academics in the OSS, Winks' Cloak and Gown and Graham's Book and Dagger are much better. And, for that matter, if you are interested in the Yale English Department, Alvin Kernan's memoir In Plato's Cave is vastly more entertaining.
Code Name Puritan, by Greg Barnhisel, is both a thoroughly researched historical account and a very engaging read.
I will admit this is right up my alley, well, one of my alleys. My father was part of the intelligence community from his days during WWII through his time at Fort Meade as a civilian. While I was military for an enlistment, one of my undergraduate degrees was English. So I have an interest in both worlds in which Pearson traveled.
I think what makes this such an enjoyable book is that we move between biography, history, and analysis of what made this specific person, in this specific time, so unique and important. We come to understand the person and the things that motivated him. We learn about why the intelligence community did some of the things they did. And we also gain some insight into why things did or didn't work to plan all around. And we never feel we leave any of these threads behind as we progress.
Whether your interest is primarily this period of history, or you are mostly interested in reading about the people who stepped up during moments of need, you will find a lot here to make you happy. You may also, like I did, go and look up some things that you want to know more about. I always appreciate a book that tells me what it intended and does so while also making me even more interested in peripheral topics.
Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley.
Wow, this is a nearly perfect book. I have nothing negative to say. Greg Barnhisel is a great writer. Academics are the worst and their ivory tower maneuverings deserve to be pasted with napalm. Somehow, Greg manages to cover these loathesome machinations in a way that preserves your sanity and gets the point across. Incredible scholarship here, doubtless better than whatever psuedo-intelligible vomit the subject ever managed to produce. Concludes a bit suddenly, I think.