The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell (2002, Hardcover)

I preceded this non-fiction series in my book blog by mentioning this book and, mischievously, saved it for last. Waiting this long made it necessary to re-read the book, and in so doing, my opinion of the book changed a bit. Initially my reaction was of a light but clever book on the subject of American history, pop culture, and politics. The second time around the block, however, turned up an unmistakable tone of frustration and bitterness, even anger, regarding much of her subject matter. But this is a commentary on the writer more than the written.
Vowell’s subjects begin with a seemingly nostalgic visit to Gettysburg for a reenactment, particularly Lincoln’s post-battle speech there. What had escaped me previously had been buried in the humor and wit—and this is a constant through most of these NPR-type radio essays—a growing, perhaps seething frustration at the decomp occurring in our body politic and in our culture here in the U.S. of A. One leaves this essay with the feeling that Vowell sees such attempts at reliving momentous wedges of Americana as eventually violating the true spirit of the events, leaving them as jetsam atop the cultural froth.
Other essays use the device of fictitious letters to chastise politicians. The first has its crosshairs on Bill Clinton for his peccadilloes, his attempts to lie his way out of them, her admonition that Americans are mature enough to see presidential failures in a balanced perspective with the positives. Another chastises a local Congressional representative for his non-engagement with voters. Vowell, no slouch with prose, tomatoes this guy’s face with her own voting history, her pride in being able to vote, capping the whole thing off with her epiphany that David Letterman is “a non-voting Republican.” The essay seems to scream, “No!” at such people, also bellowing that they are violating the whole American dream in the process.
As one who would wish better for America, I too feel her frustration. I now sense that Vowell has barely contained her rage at the America that inseminated her with a jaded adulthood. The writing seems political catharsis, an attempt to vent while understanding. She’s covered her emotional tracks well here, but she does find herself admitting in the title piece that she is “no sunshine patriot.”
Such insights into the author’s psyche once again stress the value of second, even third, readings. Despite her grabbling within her emotional self here, the collection is worth the read, if for no other reason than to plumb her well-written prose for such hidden nuggets.