Auld Author: Dearest Friend: The Letters of John and Abigail Adams.

Forget George and Martha, Bill and Hillary and even JFK and Jackie–and although Eleanor Roosevelt was a winner, there was a tremendous distance between her and FDR that was probably enhanced by policies rather than feeling. No, for me the most interesting relationship between a husband and wife who at one time occupied the White House was that of John (1735-1926) and Abigail Adams (1744-1818). They were married for fifty-four years (when such lengthy unions were common amongst people who managed to live long), and through their correspondences (which were required due to John having to serve the nation from afar) the reader is able to admire a loving relationship between two opposite personalities who met correctly on higher thoughts and had the admirable ability to like each other.

John was a feisty individual who stood his ground and would defend anyone on the basis of right and wrong. He was querulous, intelligent and unlikely to smooch rings. Abigail was his conscience; she was shrewd and tough and also a moral soul who viewed slavery as evil in a time when it was supported by the church. That might sound merely “just fine today,” but such stances were often disastrous. Just ask the ghost of John Brown.

The letters cover decades and between the two; I believe that both were excellent writers, but I find Abigail the more talented of the two (even though she frequently invented various spellings of the same word in the same letter with frequency). I imagine that came from her natural position of knowing that she was writing to her husband, a man who often had to write for the masses. He could be personal, but you can see where the “public orator” comes in.

I picked this book up as something to read during my long ferry commute to work (one hour each way, for twenty-plus years). God knows how many words I read on that trip. Millions, maybe. I deliberately chose items I would not normally read or would re-read Shakespeare or other classics such as The Scarlet Letter. I believe that a person should develop a life long relationship with high level writing. You can track the state of your own growth by comparing your opinion on Othello from first having read it in school to how you feel about it at fifty. Shakespeare and great writers such as Hawthorne, Dickens, Parker, Twain, O’Connor, D.H. Lawrence (currently reading The Sisters) tend to grow along with you–looking back at showoffy “product” can often embarrass you for your previous admiration for it. (I avoid slamming other writers in public anymore–after all, it is just my point of view; maturity arrives when you can freely admit that you do not know everything.)

Moreover, I like to keep my touts for works that I admire short and sweet. I greatly avoid windy forwards written by academics. Top shelf critics, like Harold Bloom, could write interesting books on certain works, but he also knew that the world doesn’t require a twenty-thousand word preface for Hamlet, when a thousand will do.

Therefore, my aim is to kindly offer a reading suggestion that I believe will bring serenity to long and boring travels or during the wonderful quiet hours of privacy.

Leila