Thande
Donor
I picked up this work by Eric Flint not without a certain degree of trepidation. Its immediate predecessor, 1812: The Rivers of War, was a very divisive book to read. On the one hand, it covered an excellent and original concept, the storytelling and descriptions were good, and Flint is certainly well-read and has researched the material. Unfortunately, it was undermined by the fact that he let silly nationalism overrule his knowledge, attacking the British role in the War of 1812 and ignoring that it began as a war of American aggression (admittedly, of course, provoked by Royal Navy policy towards American sailors), presenting it as a war for American survival against the eeevil British imperialists. The second major flaw was one also found in the 1632 series, Flint's inability to create a balanced enemy character who damn well stays an enemy. As with Wallenstein then, 1812 suffered from Robert Ross and most other British characters presented in a good light inevitably sympathising with the Americans by the end, implausibly so.
However, this is a review about 1824, not 1812. Now the idea behind this book, along with its predecessor, is superb in its originality. It apparently started as a challenge to Flint by a friend, to create an alternate history scenario in which the Trail of Tears was avoided. Flint decided, realistically, that it was virtually impossible to actually change U.S. policy towards the Indians, with the tide of settlers, so instead he chose to set things up so the Cherokee and their allies choose to go west of their own accord, rather than waiting until they will be forced out.
One rather strange aspect is that this plot is not kept to in 1824. Having got to the stage where he does indeed have a free Indian confederacy in the west (in the region of Oklahoma, what became the Indian Territory after the Trail of Tears in OTL) he then proceeds to ignore it in order to focus on the freed blacks who make up the Arkansas Confederacy, to the east of the Indians. This, of course, has the effect of shielding the Indians from American encroachment. Now a book about a free (mostly) black state in the middle of America is interesting. I would have picked it up if it had said that on the blurb, certainly. However, it didn't. This was supposed to be a series about a better fate for American Indians, and indeed there's a picture of a Cherokee warrior on the cover. I just find the fact that it's segued into being mainly a history about a better fate for American blacks to be a little bit odd (in 1824, formerly sympathetic Indian characters like The Ridge suddenly become 'teh eevil' because they keep slaves...)
The final problem with 1824 is Flint's problem with treating with 'the enemy' as sympathetic characters. He does manage it with Henry Clay, who is ultimately an antagonist in the book, although primarily because he is presented as being an amoral figure willing to cleave to any policy in order to gain political power. However, John C. Calhoun, the man whose pro-slavery agenda is the reason why Clay takes such policies, is lambasted with maladicta without actually appearing in the narrative, which one might say is a little bit libellous. Certainly, it's generally agreed in OTL that Calhoun was an intelligent politician who just happened to hold unfortunate views on race and slavery, but Flint appears to treat him as though he's a redneck Nazi who has somehow managed to get himself elected as senator.
Now the problems are out of the way, let's turn to the good points, and there are many. Flint has taken the courageous decision to miss out some stories in between 1812 and 1824, just hinting at them in retrospect: notably the way the mob mutilated Henry Crowell of the Iron Battalion and the blacks of Louisiana fought the Louisianan militia in return, then left en masse for Arkansas. Patrick Driscolwas my major problem with the original book: Flint did at least give him a realistic background for a former United Irishman, practically unique for Americans writing about the Irish, but also made him a bit of a loathsome character who was presented in a too-sympathetic way. In this book he has both softened and is not treated as the major viewpoint character - the other characters talk about his bad points and there is the amusing irony of him being a committed republican, but his subjects as 'Chief' of the Arkansas Confederacy universally referring to him as 'the Laird'.
The British characters in the book are treated a lot more sensibly than in 1812, perhaps due to the fact that there's no longer a war to make Flint's emotions swallow his rational knowledge. His presentation of Ross in Ireland is perfectly accurate, his brief portrayal of the Duke of Wellington and Thomas Clarkson is fine. The exception is Wilberforce, who was also slammed in 1812 - what problem Flint has with the father of English abolitionism is something which truly escapes me. Ross is also treated realistically when he decides to go to Arkansas, not actually participating in Driscol's war, simply observing it and, it is hinted, offering 'advice'.
Probably Flint's best point in any book is the way he can dredge up interesting historical people to do equally interesting things with. In this story, there's Richard Mentor Johnson, a senator from Kentucky who defies the opinion of the day by openly marrying a black woman, and his two daughters, after being schooled in Arkansas, end up marrying two veterans of the Arkansas army. There's also Zachary Taylor, in OTL a future president of the United States, whose cavalry unit observes the fighting between the Arkansans and a mob of state militiamen led by John Crittenden, another historical character. It is this skirmish which leads to the USA, under President Clay, declaring war on Arkansas.
It is at this point that Flint becomes a little too vague. All the characters seem to agree that if a free black republic survives in the middle of America and its inhabitants prove they can fight and beat white men, then slavery in the USA is doomed. It is, however, unclear exactly why this is, given that in OTL there was Haiti right next door to the US, and everything true of Arkansas was true there as well.
One slightly gratifying factor is the revelation that Flint's occasional irrationality appears to be due to ideology rather than American nationalism as I had previously thought: it is quite strange, after reading 1632 and 1812, to see him describing the Arkansans and Indians slaughtering American regulars at the Battle of Arkansas Post with almost loving detail. On the other hand, Flint presents the dichtomy of slavery in the USA in the 1820s in a thoughtful and informative way for outsiders who are likely to view it as a black and white (if you'll pardon the pun) issue, explaining how there were plenty of slaveholders who disliked the institution of slavery but were unable to free their own slaves, as it would have bankrupted them and ended their own political careers. He does take this a bit too far with Andrew Jackson, who as with 1812 is too much of a Mary Sue-ish figure, going 180 degrees against his OTL positions on important issues in order to fit Flint's role for him in the scenario. The idea of so many high-ranking American military officers resigning rather than fight the Arkansas also seems a little unrealistic, unless they all thought that the war could not be won and didn't want to be tarred with the brush of defeat.
There is also the occasional touch of humour: I particularly enjoyed the scene where Julia Chinn (Richard Mentor Johnson's black wife) finds her daughter reading the Bible next to her would-be veteran beau in hospital; fine, you might think, except that the chapter in question was the Song of Solomon
Overall, this is a worthy addition to the AH canon and superior to 1812. I give it 7 out of 10. One does have to get used to Flint's slightly irritating writing style (practically every sentence takes the form "the militiamen would retreat through the dark forest. Would they escape? No, they would not", answering its own rhetorical question) but compared to Turtledove he's Shakespeare.
I look forward to any future sequels, but I do hope that they get back to what the Cherokee and company are up to, as I was under the impression that that was supposed to be the subject of the 1812 series.
Thande
However, this is a review about 1824, not 1812. Now the idea behind this book, along with its predecessor, is superb in its originality. It apparently started as a challenge to Flint by a friend, to create an alternate history scenario in which the Trail of Tears was avoided. Flint decided, realistically, that it was virtually impossible to actually change U.S. policy towards the Indians, with the tide of settlers, so instead he chose to set things up so the Cherokee and their allies choose to go west of their own accord, rather than waiting until they will be forced out.
One rather strange aspect is that this plot is not kept to in 1824. Having got to the stage where he does indeed have a free Indian confederacy in the west (in the region of Oklahoma, what became the Indian Territory after the Trail of Tears in OTL) he then proceeds to ignore it in order to focus on the freed blacks who make up the Arkansas Confederacy, to the east of the Indians. This, of course, has the effect of shielding the Indians from American encroachment. Now a book about a free (mostly) black state in the middle of America is interesting. I would have picked it up if it had said that on the blurb, certainly. However, it didn't. This was supposed to be a series about a better fate for American Indians, and indeed there's a picture of a Cherokee warrior on the cover. I just find the fact that it's segued into being mainly a history about a better fate for American blacks to be a little bit odd (in 1824, formerly sympathetic Indian characters like The Ridge suddenly become 'teh eevil' because they keep slaves...)
The final problem with 1824 is Flint's problem with treating with 'the enemy' as sympathetic characters. He does manage it with Henry Clay, who is ultimately an antagonist in the book, although primarily because he is presented as being an amoral figure willing to cleave to any policy in order to gain political power. However, John C. Calhoun, the man whose pro-slavery agenda is the reason why Clay takes such policies, is lambasted with maladicta without actually appearing in the narrative, which one might say is a little bit libellous. Certainly, it's generally agreed in OTL that Calhoun was an intelligent politician who just happened to hold unfortunate views on race and slavery, but Flint appears to treat him as though he's a redneck Nazi who has somehow managed to get himself elected as senator.
Now the problems are out of the way, let's turn to the good points, and there are many. Flint has taken the courageous decision to miss out some stories in between 1812 and 1824, just hinting at them in retrospect: notably the way the mob mutilated Henry Crowell of the Iron Battalion and the blacks of Louisiana fought the Louisianan militia in return, then left en masse for Arkansas. Patrick Driscolwas my major problem with the original book: Flint did at least give him a realistic background for a former United Irishman, practically unique for Americans writing about the Irish, but also made him a bit of a loathsome character who was presented in a too-sympathetic way. In this book he has both softened and is not treated as the major viewpoint character - the other characters talk about his bad points and there is the amusing irony of him being a committed republican, but his subjects as 'Chief' of the Arkansas Confederacy universally referring to him as 'the Laird'.
The British characters in the book are treated a lot more sensibly than in 1812, perhaps due to the fact that there's no longer a war to make Flint's emotions swallow his rational knowledge. His presentation of Ross in Ireland is perfectly accurate, his brief portrayal of the Duke of Wellington and Thomas Clarkson is fine. The exception is Wilberforce, who was also slammed in 1812 - what problem Flint has with the father of English abolitionism is something which truly escapes me. Ross is also treated realistically when he decides to go to Arkansas, not actually participating in Driscol's war, simply observing it and, it is hinted, offering 'advice'.
Probably Flint's best point in any book is the way he can dredge up interesting historical people to do equally interesting things with. In this story, there's Richard Mentor Johnson, a senator from Kentucky who defies the opinion of the day by openly marrying a black woman, and his two daughters, after being schooled in Arkansas, end up marrying two veterans of the Arkansas army. There's also Zachary Taylor, in OTL a future president of the United States, whose cavalry unit observes the fighting between the Arkansans and a mob of state militiamen led by John Crittenden, another historical character. It is this skirmish which leads to the USA, under President Clay, declaring war on Arkansas.
It is at this point that Flint becomes a little too vague. All the characters seem to agree that if a free black republic survives in the middle of America and its inhabitants prove they can fight and beat white men, then slavery in the USA is doomed. It is, however, unclear exactly why this is, given that in OTL there was Haiti right next door to the US, and everything true of Arkansas was true there as well.
One slightly gratifying factor is the revelation that Flint's occasional irrationality appears to be due to ideology rather than American nationalism as I had previously thought: it is quite strange, after reading 1632 and 1812, to see him describing the Arkansans and Indians slaughtering American regulars at the Battle of Arkansas Post with almost loving detail. On the other hand, Flint presents the dichtomy of slavery in the USA in the 1820s in a thoughtful and informative way for outsiders who are likely to view it as a black and white (if you'll pardon the pun) issue, explaining how there were plenty of slaveholders who disliked the institution of slavery but were unable to free their own slaves, as it would have bankrupted them and ended their own political careers. He does take this a bit too far with Andrew Jackson, who as with 1812 is too much of a Mary Sue-ish figure, going 180 degrees against his OTL positions on important issues in order to fit Flint's role for him in the scenario. The idea of so many high-ranking American military officers resigning rather than fight the Arkansas also seems a little unrealistic, unless they all thought that the war could not be won and didn't want to be tarred with the brush of defeat.
There is also the occasional touch of humour: I particularly enjoyed the scene where Julia Chinn (Richard Mentor Johnson's black wife) finds her daughter reading the Bible next to her would-be veteran beau in hospital; fine, you might think, except that the chapter in question was the Song of Solomon
Overall, this is a worthy addition to the AH canon and superior to 1812. I give it 7 out of 10. One does have to get used to Flint's slightly irritating writing style (practically every sentence takes the form "the militiamen would retreat through the dark forest. Would they escape? No, they would not", answering its own rhetorical question) but compared to Turtledove he's Shakespeare.
I look forward to any future sequels, but I do hope that they get back to what the Cherokee and company are up to, as I was under the impression that that was supposed to be the subject of the 1812 series.
Thande