The problem with reading about Pearl Harbor isn’t the number of books available, of which there are many. It’s finding the right one. It’s tough to sift between titles to find the one that tells you what you want, with both skill and credibility. I wanted a comprehensive history, one that covered the lead-up to Pearl Harbor (including the intelligence failures that allowed the Japanese to land such a devastating surprise blow) and a narrative of the battle itself. In other words, I wanted a book that encompassed both Gordon Prange’s monumental At Dawn We Slept and Walter Lord’s near-masterpiece Day of Infamy. I’m a simple man, you see, and all I want is a single book that perfectly captures the essence of two all-time classics.
Thus, I picked up Craig Nelson’s new Pearl Harbor: From Infamy to Greatness with impossible expectations. Was this reasonable? No. Is it fair? Again, no. Did this give me a moment’s pause? Of course not. Am I drunk right now? Not yet.
In terms of comprehensiveness, at least, Nelson’s Pearl Harbor fits my specifications. It is divided into three parts. Part one goes over the territory mined by Prange and discusses Japanese-U.S. relations, the growing tension in the Pacific, and Japanese war planning. Part two is devoted to the attack itself, which came from carrier-launched Japanese fighters, bombers, torpedo planes, and midget submarines. Part three covers the aftermath of the attacks, from rescue efforts, to salvage efforts, to the dropping of the atomic bomb.
This is a book that I generally disliked. There aren’t any huge problems here. It’s just a bunch of little things that irritated me. Combine the little things together and it formed a frustration I just couldn’t shake. I hasten to add that I recognize the arbitrariness of this statement. There are books that I absolutely adore that I would hesitate recommending. Likewise, this is a book I didn’t love, but would probably recommend to someone looking for a volume on Pearl Harbor.
Things start out well enough. Nelson cannot be faulted for the scope of his ambition. He begins all the way back in 1853, with Commodore Perry forcing Japan to be “friends” at the point of a gun. He then traces the outline of the Meiji Restoration and Japan’s entrance onto the world stage as a regional power with imperial aspirations.
Japan’s goals soon came into conflict with those of the United States, which had a newfound Pacific presence following the Spanish-American War. As Japan expanded into China (in oft brutal fashion), the U.S. tried to temper Japanese designs with economic sanctions that culminated in an oil embargo. The Japanese pursued diplomatic rapprochement with the U.S. while simultaneously developing a plan (pushed by Isoroku Yamamoto) to strike the U.S. Fleet at Pearl Harbor.
This is a lot to cover in a section less than 200 pages long, but Nelson does a credible job. It’s hard to keep all the characters straight (and a dramatis personae would’ve been helpful) but that’s to be expected. I also think Nelson could’ve done a better job highlighting the extreme importance of the oil embargo to the failure of diplomatic relations (it is mentioned almost offhand). For the most part, though, he does a good job at explaining the context in which the Japanese and U.S. were acting.
The problem is the writing. Describing good or bad writing is hard; it’s like describing love. You know it when you see and feel it. I struggled with Pearl Harbor mainly because of Nelson’s style. This is a book with strange authorial interjections (early in the book, after a paragraph raving of Hawaii’s natural beauty, Nelson blurts “In case you can’t tell, I love her like Christmas”), odd phrases (he refers to one naval ship as the "USS destroyer Greer"; at two different points, a fighter plane “piles” bullets into a target), and paragraphs that simply don’t flow. There were too many times when I had to stop and read a sentence twice or more to gain its meaning. Typically, this is the kind of book I’d tear through. Instead, I plodded.
Part two of Pearl Harbor, covering the attack itself, flat-out disappointed me. To be sure, Nelson is extremely thorough in covering all aspects of the attack. I just didn't like the presentation. He writes this section almost as an oral history. His technique is to give a name followed by a colon, and then to quote the witness at length. The result is big chunks of uncut primary recollections. (Maddeningly, Nelson does not use block-quotes in excerpting these statements. This makes for an aesthetic nightmare. There are quotations that go on for pages, and I was constantly having to stop to figure out who was speaking: author or witness. Seriously. Use block-quotes).
At this point, you’re probably like, This sounds great! But hear me out. A true oral history attempts to put recollections into a logical framework. There has to be some explanation as to who the witness is, where he/she is located, what he/she is describing, etc. Nelson doesn’t do this. For long stretches, he simply segues between various eyewitnesses. This leads to incidences of repetition, chronological confusion, and factual misstatements.
One example of why this didn't work for me: some of the witness statements that Nelson quotes embody the entirety of that witness’s daylong experience on December 7, 1941 at one time. Thus, these uncut accounts sometimes span minutes, other times hours. This makes it really difficult to establish a timeline of events. The result can be chaotic, which might be true to the experiential spirit, but is not what I'm looking for in a narrative history. By the time Nelson gets around to describing the sinking of the USS Arizona, the Arizona has already sunk two or three times as mentioned in earlier accounts.
Moreover, these accounts come with very little or no introduction. People you don’t know are suddenly talking, and often times they are mentioning other people you don’t know. Nelson also tends to quote inaccuracies without correction. For example, he has one man mourning the loss of 500 men who went down on the USS Utah; 64 officers and men actually died in the attack. What is the point of including this mistake?
This method took me out of the story. I prefer it when an author weaves the primary sources into a coherent narrative. Yes, it’s nice to have some actual quotations to emphasize particular points. It is equally as important to excise mistakes, non sequiturs, and nonessential phrasings. (I think it’s entirely understandable that a lot of eyewitnesses fall back on clichés in attempting to describe the indescribable. I also think it’s unnecessary to continually repeat them). In other words, I prefer Walter Lord’s style to Stephen Ambrose. If you like Ambrose (I don’t, but let’s not fight about it), you will very likely enjoy this a hell of a lot more than me.
Nelson closes by defining what he sees as Pearl Harbor’s legacy. This takes him three chapters, much of it spent on delineating the entire course of the Pacific War. (With a heavy emphasis on the Doolittle Raid). I could have done without these chapters, since it adds absolutely nothing to our understanding of Pearl Harbor in particular, or World War II in general. This book would have been better served had Nelson integrated his first appendix (about who’s to blame for the surprise nature of the raid) into the main body of the text.
Part three seems to exist solely for Nelson to propound upon the theme of vengeance. At one point, he even calls it “sweet vengeance,” which is… I don’t even know. He is all over the place on these pages. In one paragraph he might be extolling the reconciliation between Japanese and American participants. In the very next paragraph he might be implying that the Japanese have no moral right to complain about Hiroshima.
After spending so much time itemizing American revenge post-12/7, it’s not surprising that he draws a muscular conclusion as to Pearl Harbor’s meaning. Nelson believes that Pearl Harbor jolted America into flexing her great and terrible might, heretofore untapped. He subscribes to the belief that the American Century began on December 7, 1941. That it took a sneak attack by the Imperial Army and Navy of Japan to turn America into a world power – a more-benevolent version of the international titan that Germany and Japan had tried to become.
I prefer to view Pearl Harbor differently.
We are not our best selves as a nation, right now. This is an ugly, fractional time, and it is frankly hard to stomach. Pearl Harbor is clearly a massive national failure on many levels. But Pearl Harbor also shows us at our finest. Unified and dogged and dedicated to a common purpose. I don’t claim that thriving in the face of adversity is a uniquely American trait. But America does have a way of being utterly unprepared for trouble; of getting walloped in the face; and yet somehow managing to rise after the blow. That was demonstrated time and again that long-ago Sunday morning. Failed by their government, failed by their leaders, thousands of young American men and women managed to be their absolute best in the direst of circumstances. They pulled together to save each other, and they did this for each other. They built a monument to humanity amidst the hell of flame and saltwater.
That is the Pearl Harbor worth remembering.