The classical era of American history began with the Revolution and ended with emancipation. Between these bookends lies the absorbing yet overshadowed epic of a new nation spearheading liberty’s cause in a world skeptical of freedom arriving at all, much less in slaver’s garb. M. B. Zucker takes readers back to that adolescent country in the care of an enigmatic guide, John Quincy Adams, heir to one president by blood and another, Washington, by ideology. Adams is the missing link between the founders and Abraham Lincoln, and is nigh unanimously regarded as America’s foremost Secretary of State. Through Adams’ eyes, readers will experience one of history’s greatest and most forgotten crises: his showdown with Europe over South American independence, the conflict which prefigured the Monroe Doctrine.
With his signature dialogue and his close study of Adams’ 51 volume diary, M. B. Zucker’s The Middle Generation is a political thriller and character piece that surpasses his achievement in The Eisenhower Chronicles and ascends to the cinematic heights of the historical epics of David Lean and Steven Spielberg. It is an unforgettable portrait and a leap forward for one of our rising historical fiction novelists.
Buy Links:
Universal Link: https://geni.us/fNbEE
The title will be available in several Barnes and Noble stores in the DC / Northern Virginia area.
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We exited the house. The wind had calmed but the air
was colder, besting the sun’s efforts. I tracked Father as we walked the trail
we’d used many times before. A flickering of memories. Some pleasant, others
buried. The worst moment of my youth happened there—Father, with Mother’s
blessing, pressured me into breaking my engagement with Mary Frazer, a young
girl to whom I’d pinned all hopes of happiness.
Father was silent and I decided to prompt him. “I
don’t seek counsel on policy.”
A moment. My words went unheard. Then, “Good. I don’t
seek to give it. I am too old and have been out of action too long to be
useful.”
“Unlikely.”
“I’d rather discuss issues closer to home.”
“Go on.”
He sighed. “Your mother was my closest advisor. And my
wisest. When I look at you and Louisa…” A moment. “Do you talk to her about
your work?”
“No.”
“You should.”
“Louisa has a limited understanding of politics and
world events.”
“Teach her. Bring her up to speed. Though you’re
wrong. She was a minister’s wife in Europe.
Befriended Emperor Alexander in St. Petersburg.
Witnessed Napoleon’s conquests. My image of her was forever changed when she
told me of how she crossed the continent with young Charles alone for six weeks
and French soldiers intercepted them in a Russian carriage. Her improvisation
saved your family.”
“That does not mean she knows how to manage France and
Russia.”
“You’re making a mistake, Johnny.” He made eye
contact. “I’m fond of Louisa. Marrying her was the most important event of your
life.” Turning away. “No matter what office you may obtain.”
I turned backward, not wanting us to go out too far in
case the wind resumed.
“How are the boys?” he asked.
“What?”
“I asked how are the boys.”
“Oh. They’re fine.”
“How old are they now?”
“George is sixteen, John is fourteen, and Charles is
ten.”
“How is George’s education progressing?”
I groaned. “I don’t know what to do with him. He’s
stupid and weak.”
“What does Louisa think?”
“She’s soft with him. With all of them. Charles’
French is improving but the others are behind. A shame children are not clay to
be made according to the fancy of every potter.”
“Remember that an education should
include a knowledge of history in general and of England, France, Holland, and
America in particular. Have them read whatever legal text you can, no matter
the age. And the memoirs of great men.”
“I know, Father. I remember how you raised me. I model
my approach to fatherhood on you.”
“Just don’t pressure them too much.”
“Is such a thing possible?”
“Yes. Look at your brothers.”
“But look at me.”
“What about you?”
“I didn’t turn out like Tom and Charles.”
“I suppose not.” He growled within each breath. I
wanted to return home soon. “I wish you’d had more success as a lawyer. You
could have been great but you are too disposed to despondency.”
“It didn’t interest me.”
“You didn’t give it a chance. Spent your law school
years playing cards and chasing girls. The profession requires time to earn
appreciation.”
“It was a bad fit. My mind doesn’t work that way.”
“You determine how your mind works.” He looked back
and then said to me, “Realize where you started in life, Johnny. History won’t
give me my due. I won’t be credited for my role in the Revolution. The parts
performed by General Washington, Mr. Jefferson, and Dr. Franklin will be
exaggerated instead. But we are still one of America’s leading families. You
came into life with advantages that will disgrace you if your success is
mediocre.”
“I am the Secretary of State.”
“You must become President.”
He started toward home. I followed. “My position makes
me heir apparent. The last three Presidents all held my office before ascending
to the Executive Mansion.”
“That’s not a guarantee.”
“A guarantee is impossible.”
“It was for General Washington. You are not he, but it
can still be done.”
“How?”
“Find a way, Johnny. And you must win two terms, to
make up for my loss to Jefferson. Restore the family legacy.”
I swelled with anxiety. This was the period where I’d
succeed or fail to fulfill my destiny. I was again the eight-year-old Father
took across the Atlantic during the War for Independence.
“You once told me that you studied politics and war so
I may study mathematics and philosophy, and I had to study mathematics and
philosophy so my children could study painting and music.”
Father chuckled. “There will always be a need for
politics, son. If men were angels no government would be necessary. I am not
advising you. I’m telling you. You must achieve the presidency. For your own
worth and for mine. For our family’s. You must succeed.”
“Yes, Father.” My mind raced faster
than I could follow. Crawford. Onís. Metternich. Only a few of the obstacles I
faced. It was now an issue of life and death. Failure would destroy me and my
family. A disgrace for generations. Through history. My name synonymous with
shame.
Mother waited for us as we approached home. “Louisa is
chatting with Tom and Nancy.”
“I was reminding Johnny of our expectations of him,”
Father said.
“Yes! We shall have a two-term President in this family.”
Father chuckled, embracing the joke at his expense. My
anxiety doubled.
“Remember to not look back or shrink from your duty,
however arduous or dangerous the task assigned you,” Mother said. “And never
forget virtue. It’s equally important. Purge any Old World values you absorbed
from your soul. Your great intellect counts for little if virtue, honor, and
integrity aren’t added to it. I’d much rather you found your grave in the ocean
while returning from Europe than see you an immoral profligate or a graceless
man.”
The highest goals that parents could have for their
child. The heights of ambition and virtue. They wanted the impossible, yet I
had no choice but to obey.
“The first and deepest of all my wishes,” I said, “is to give satisfaction to my parents.”
M. B. Zucker has been interested
in storytelling for as long as he can remember. He devoted himself to
historical fiction at fifteen and earned his B.A. at Occidental College and his
J.D. at Case Western Reserve University School of Law. He lives in Virginia
with his family. He is the author of three other novels. Among his honors is
the Best Fictional Biography Award at the 2023 BookFest.
Author Links:
Thank you so much for hosting M. B. Zucker today, with a fascinating excerpt from The Middle Generation.
ReplyDeleteTake care,
Cathie xoxo
The Coffee Pot Book Club
My pleasure.
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