Yup, he's still my favorite

Jack Kennedy: Elusive Hero by Chris Matthews

Chris Matthews, along with Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, are heavily responsible for that political science degree of mine. Matthews’ Hardball and Woodstein’s All the President’s Men were too good to resist. I needed more.

It’s been a year or two since that first semester of college [understatement, anyone?], and I’m still hooked on this stuff.

So this new book, by Matthews, about my favorite president (even though yes, I know: Lincoln was nobler) was beyond irresistible.

It’s a glowing portrait of JFK, and I’m OK with that. 


Here’s a sense of Matthews’ take: “In searching for Jack Kennedy, I found a fighting prince never free from pain, never far from trouble, never accepting the world he found, never wanting to be his father’s son. He was a far greater hero than he ever wished us to know.” (p. 11)

Given that I’m already a Kennedyophile, those two sentences nearly did me in.  

Plus, Matthews has a fine writing style that flows right along, and you gotta like that.

Also, it was a comfort to me to read the old story* again. I’ve known the basics of JFK’s life story since way back when I was still playing with Barbies (yeah, so 4^th grade was maybe a little old for dolls, but hey). Back in those days, once I’d planted the Barbies in their dream house, I’d head for the presidential and First Lady biographies. And JFK was my fave back then, too.

So, yeah, I know the bio. Boyhood illnesses and bookishness: check. PT-109: check. Malaria and back surgeries: check. “Irish Mafia”: check.

So, I gotta say, there wasn’t too much new information here. But—the thing that sets this book apart is that Matthews incorporates snippets of interviews and memoirs of those who knew Kennedy well, and that makes it feel very fresh and somehow current.

So if you’re in the mood for an adoring biography of JFK, this book’s probably gonna do it for you.

* OK. Hymn flashback here. The phrase “the old, old story” kept running through my head while I was reading this book, which launched my brain’s secret stereo into this fine number imprinted on me during my younger years. It’s a grand old hymn that really demands to be belted out with some gusto. In keeping with the 4^th grade Barbie recollections, we’re going to hear it from the Oak Ridge Boys. Hello¸early ’80s!

(But guys? I am not suggesting that we compare JFK to Jesus. That really doesn’t work.)