The first half of this book is excellent. Moore has a knack for weaving historical detail into a coherent narrative, telling the story of the Roaring Twenties. Her portrayal of Zelda Fitzgerald--as a woman who turned to hedonism as an escape from inner despair--was especially poignant. I didn't know much about the Fitzgeralds before I read that chapter, but I do not hesitate to say that it was the first time I encountered them as people. Moore's sweeping portrait of the jazz scene--as one of rebellion and despair and joy all rolled into one--was also excellent. If I had to recommend this book, I would recommend reading the first half. What would be a good stopping point, you ask? Why, the chapter "Fear of the Foreign," in which she spends a considerable amount of time on the Sacco and Vanzetti case.
Now, I am no expert on that case. I know more than some, less than others, and not as much as I would like. It's a historical mystery, and a tragedy as well--one that resulted in the execution of two potentially innocent men. Note the first word: potentially. As in, their guilt or innocence has still not been determined over eighty years later. If I were handling this case, I would stick to the facts, incorporating views from both camps, and end the chapter with a note that while the case is still shrouded in doubt, it continues to be as divisive today as it was in 1927.
Moore does not do this. Instead, she takes the opportunity to add as much preaching to her narrative as she can muster. This is not a "failure of the justice system" case; it is not a "we don't know what happened and we may have erred on the wrong side" case; it is not a "Judge Thayer went against popular opinion, and in this case popular opinion may have been correct" case. In Moore's hands, it is a clear-cut case of good and evil. Everyone who allied with Sacco and Vanzetti were Good; everyone who allied against them is Evil. And Racist and Xenophobic and probably a Fat Cat Capitalist, too.
I can accept that Sacco and Vanzetti were good men. I can even accept that they were innocent. But in quoting heavily from their supporters--and from the men themselves, who earnestly proclaimed their innocence and their faith in their ideals--Moore glosses over the most important fact of all, which she states earlier in the chapter: The year 1919 saw many labor strikes, some of which became violent, as well as anarchist protests.
Like bombings.
As in, blowing up buildings.
That's the kind of thing that strikes fear into the hearts of....oh, every person who values their life. To a person in 1919 or 1920, it probably seemed as though anarchists were trying to take over the country--after destroying it, of course! What would YOU think if multiple buildings were bombed by people who claimed "Long live anarchy!" I'd be terrified. And since Sacco and Vanzetti were anarchists...well. That certainly puts a damper on Moore's claim that everyone who opposed Sacco and Vanzetti were unabashed racists, doesn't it? Add this to the fact that after their execution, many more protests took place, including bombings of American embassies in Rome, Paris and Lisbon. "People involved in their conviction--the brother of the garage owner who had informed on them, Governor Fuller who had refused them clemency, one of their jurors, the executioner, Judge Thayer himself--were the focus of specific violent attacks. Thayer's home was destroyed and he spent the rest of his life living under permanent guard at his club in Boston." (Pg. 182)
Those facts do not seem to support Moore's thesis that Sacco and Vanzetti were members of a good-hearted group working to free lower-class Americans from oppression; they support Thayer's implied thesis that they were members of a militant group that did not hesitate to use violence to support its ends, heedless of how many lives were lost or property destroyed along the way. Did Thayer deny evidence that could have exonerated them? Most likely, and there is no excusing that. Were the men of the jury who convicted Sacco and Vanzetti racist? I'm sure some of them were. But it seems more probable that Thayer and the men responsible for Sacco and Vanzetti's conviction were terrified of anarchy and the violence it seemed to embrace. So rather than releasing them because they were not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, they convicted them--because there was considerable doubt as to their innocence. It was a failure of the American justice system, not a case of blatant racism. Had Sacco and Vanzetti been whiter-than-white descendants of Mayflower Pilgrims, I don't think the outcome would have been any different.
Moore doesn't even consider this idea. Instead, she brands everyone who opposed Sacco and Vanzetti an Evil Racist Pig, and labels everyone who supported them Intellectual and Enlightened and Compassionate Toward the Ninety-Nine Percent. Everyone in the middle becomes a Passive Supporter of an Unabashedly Racist Regime that killed Kindhearted Immigrants who Just Wanted to Spread Joyous Anarchy to the Little Children. Excuse me while I vomit.
In short, this book goes from fascinating to disgusting in the space of a single chapter. It's not disgusting because she sides with Sacco and Vanzetti, or even because her sympathies so clearly lie with the anarchists of the 1920s. It's disgusting because she deliberately twists facts to suit her worldview. It's disgusting because she takes a perfectly legitimate fear--the fear of being blown to smithereens by anarchists who were often from Italy--and turns it into "EVERY1 IN THE 1920S WAS SUPER UBER RACIST AND TAHT'S RONG!!!!!11!!!!!1!!! IF U DONT BELEEVE ME GO JOIN THE KKK!!!!!!" She doesn't consider other factors--factors that, if incorporated, would make for a much more balanced and honest history.