Politically active people who came of age in the crucible of the 1960s tend to retain a core of idealism beneath crusty layers of cynicism that have built up on their souls over succeeding decades. Nothing since the cataclysmic events of 1970 (Kent State and its aftermath) that marked the end of the so-called ’60s can quite match the intense highs and lows of that handful of years.
Since then, in fact, we have witnessed a slow, steady debasement of our political life and discourse. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, just days before his assassination, “The arc of a moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” Congruently, for veterans of the 1960s, the arc of a political universe is long, but it bends toward disappointment and disillusionment.
The lead characters in John Callahan’s debut novel, “A Man You Could Love,” are children of the 1960s who chose to remain in the political arena, fighting the good fight while all around them, politics and civility disintegrated. It is fitting that this novel, a 400-plus- page flashback, begins and ends with the aborted Florida recount during the fateful presidential election of 2000.
At its best, “A Man You Could Love” is a moving tribute to that which is inspiring in politics and politicians. Michael J. “Mick” Whelan, present at the “I Have a Dream Speech”; staffer for the Eugene McCarthy campaign of 1968; and later a U.S. congressman and senator, represents the American political ideal. He is a man of unquestioned integrity, a uniter, not a divider, a man blessed with the tongue of angels. A man you could love and who might, just might, rise all the way to the top.
Gabe Bontempo, who narrates this near-epic, is Whelan’s longtime right-hand man. An archetypal political junkie, Gabe has aspirations of his own but lacks Whelan’s charisma, his looks and his ability to schmooze with sincerity. So Gabe settles for being Mick’s top adviser, charting his course to the top.
An Oregon liberal, Whelan tries his best to keep the spirit of the ’60s alive, forging alliances across the aisle in the early 1970s to enact legislation to build a national, high-speed rail network and mandate national service for all young people. His efforts, described in great detail, appear headed for shocking success, until – well, read the book to find out.
Meanwhile, Bontempo is so mesmerized by the political whirlwind and his friend’s meteoric rise, that his wife and son barely merit a mention. Just when the reader might begin to wonder why these characters exist in the book, Calla-
han delivers a roundhouse right that puts everything in a new perspective. Whether Bontempo internalizes these lessons, however, is never clear.
The major flaw in this ambitious and often moving novel is its fixation on the legislative process. Time and again, the reader is subjected to painstakingly detailed descriptions of the horse-trading that moves a bill from subcommittee to committee to the floor of the House or Senate.
An old chestnut attributed to Otto von Bismarck advises that “anyone who loves law or sausage should never watch either being made.” I’d argue that only someone who really loves law or sausage should watch (or read about) either being made.
“A Man You Can Love” is chock- full of sausage-making. If the legislative process in all its glory is your idea of prime entertainment, by all means dive in. If your passion for legislation falls somewhat short of that, you may find yourself skimming over lengthy passages of this otherwise worthy novel.
Alan Gottlieb’s first novel, “Ultimate Excursions,” will be published in October by Paandaa.
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FICTION
A Man You Could Love
John Callahan
$26
