I'm always torn, on those rare occasions when I have a few hours to devote to leisure, between sitting down with a good book and writing something for the blog or for a forthcoming Masonic presentation. A couple of weeks ago, I found myself with an entire evening free. I had a $50.00 Barnes and Noble gift card that I received for Christmas and had yet to redeem it, so off to the bookstore I went. I spent a couple of hours browsing and came home with, among a few others, the late William F. Buckley Jr.'s Miles Gone By: A Literary Autobiography, a collection of Buckley columns and articles that he chose to tell his life's story.
After overcoming the urge to delve into the Vince Flynn spy novel I had purchased, I settled into the recliner with Buckley's book. I was aware that he had long ago been universally hailed as the father of the modern conservative movement. I knew somewhat of his background, the book he wrote about Yale, and that he founded National Review, the conservative bible. I had seen him on television a few times. Of course, I remembered this famous exchange being alluded to on many occasions. Buckley was commonly accused of being an elitist. His wealth, the patrician accent, and the use of obscure words made him an easy target. Most of the accounts that I've read by people who knew him described him as friendly and gracious- even toward his ideological adversaries, Gore Vidal excepted. Elitist or not, Buckley was brilliant.
Buckley was a prolific writer and legend among his peers for the speed with which he wrote. He authored over fifty books and more than 5000 magazine columns in addition to hosting Firing Line for thirty-three years and giving dozens of speeches annually. I don't recall ever reading anything Buckley wrote prior to his death in 2008 at age eighty-two, when I skimmed through a handful of his columns posted around the internet. It was my loss. Within minutes of picking up Buckley's book, I discovered that he wrote elegantly, convincingly, and with a charm and wit seldom equaled anywhere in print. Only a few of the columns Buckley selected to chronicle his life and career contain anything political although his conservatism never fails to shine through.
Yes, you will need to keep a dictionary handy when you read Buckley. This particular book is 570 pages and I felt lucky when I completed a page without having to look up a word, a phrase in Latin or French, or some arcane Greek mythological character. On the plus side, I have added the words encomium, tectonic, and belletristic to my vocabulary and learned that opera is actually the plural of opus. I can't imagine why any writer would repeatedly choose words that no more than one percent of his readers could define. Buckley tendered an argument defending his penchant for seldom used words, but I remain unswayed. I think he was just showing off. To what higher honor, though, could any writer aspire than to induce a reader to refer to a dictionary 500 times in 570 pages only to find the reader still captivated by the author's wordsmithery? That's Bill Buckley.
I intend to read more of Buckley's work. I'm inclined to choose one of the books he wrote while sailing across the ocean for the next one. Since I lean toward spy novels for my guilty pleasures, I might also begin the Blackford Oakes series although that will require some effort. Many of them are out of print. They will also be outdated, but that seldom spoils a good espionage tale for me. My affinity for spy novels is akin to Maynard G. Krebs's fascination with monster movies. I'm also burnt out on Muslim terrorist bad guys, which have been, not surprisingly, all the rage for several years now. I miss the Cold War stories that find the U.S. taking a few lumps from the Russians, but always prevailing in the end, often with the assistance of the chaps from MI5. That's why I've never become a fan of John LeCarre's work. I like the good guys to be good and the bad guys to be bad with everything wrapped up in a neat little package at the end. LeCarre's characters tend to drift back and forth between the two, which is fine, but not my cup of tea. I suspect that Buckley's characters will be of the white and black hat variety that I prefer. I should note that it lies within the power of my heart to forgive the hero if, to fulfil his duty to God and country, he has to bed down some alluring femme fatale along the way.
