Rounding up from a 3.5.
The topic is fascinating--how Americans viewed and treated revolutionaries from Latin America (the further south, the better, as it turned out). The author, a Yale-educated historian, certainly knows the topic well. Looking at Fourth of July toasts and the naming of babies "Bolivar" in the 1820s is an interesting, if not very scientific, barometer of public opinion. Given the political climate today and the nonsensical political rhetoric about wall-building, it's important to look at how the first generations of Americans thought out our southern neighbors as they broke free from their European masters, and how racism and slavery fit into the picture.
However, the prose is florid. Try this: "The trickle of weapons that dripped southward from the United States before 1815 turned into something more of a stream following the peace with Britain, just as public excitement began to rest as well." (p. 163) The next page continues the water motif: "The United States formed only one spoke in the water-churning wheel of Atlantic trade, of course and it was not the only country that sent supplies south. Britain, too, was drowning in weapons after the Napoleonic Wars..." (p. 164) I turned to my husband and said I'd toss myself in the ocean if we kept up with the water metaphors.
It's pretty writing and it's easy to read, but it's a waste of words in an academic book that could have used more specificity. We are repeatedly told about how phlegmatic Adams (I) and (II) were, how wild Henry Clay could be, and how James Monroe and John Randolph looked. Really--who reading early American history doesn't know these things? Or the basics of the Monroe Doctrine? George Canning (the British foreign secretary) appears in a minor moment (whether the US would join with Britain against the "unholy alliance"--we don't--but words are used to describe him as "balding and brilliant." One Virginia Fourth of July bash was described in incredible detail (there was a blustery storm) simply for the point of demonstrating there were pro-Latin American independence toasts made during it.
Seriously? You could turn superfluous adjective/adverb spotting into a drinking game without much work. I give you thirty pages (max) before you are completely drunk.
Pretty writing is pretty, though, and other than being repetitive, wouldn't be much of a problem...except it was at the price of more facts. (I know, I like facts!) This isn't my field, but off the top of my head I can come up with a few examples. Naval Commissioner (and Captain) David Porter (of USS Essex fame) is mentioned twice--but neither for the event that got him booted out of the US Navy (a bout of imperialism south of the border) nor the fact he went on to work for Mexico while he was suspended from US Naval service--and it was very newsworthy at the time, especially since he was duking it out with his subordinates in the newspapers leading up to his court martial. Joel Poinsett, an intriguer (responsible for bringing Poinsettias to the US) is mentioned once in passing. The German naturalist Alexander von Humboldt had explored South America and his writings made him a huge celebrity in North America as well as Europe. Americans didn't know about South America solely from newspapers. I'd rather have had the toasts and baby names skipped one of the fifteen or so extra times they're mentioned (in case we forgot from one chapter from another?) in order to have a more nuanced picture--what of ship manifests, ship's logs, journals of midshipmen (since they were usually required to keep them)? Particularly as selling weapons to rebels was very lucrative for Americans post 1815.
The author (or rather the publishing house) engages in the persistently annoying trend of one-endnote-per paragraph. This makes for long endnotes that do not directly link up a claim with a source, and I was often frustrated that even a wordy endnote failed to address basic questions I might have about source material. (Disclaimer: I am a lawyer and if I write something that isn't my own argument, it's a source and it gets cited. EVERY TIME.) I find this type of endnote intellectually dishonest, because it's all too easy to slip some shiners in among better sources--or to omit a source entirely if one doesn't exist. There's no excuse for not using footnotes with modern layout software, and it's a lot more frustrating to flip a couple of hundred pages forward in a book to find a note rather than glance down at the bottom of the page.
For all that, I'd recommend reading it to those interested in Latin American studies and in Early American history. But I sincerely hope Professor Fitz will do a find-and-replace for the more egregious adverbs and adjectives in her next book. (And I am looking forward to a next book, whenever it will be.)