Hard as it may be to comprehend, for a time I was a regular reader of William F. Buckley’s National Review. Buckley, the oft-caricatured and curmudgeonly gadfly of the conservative movement, died this week at 82.
For a year and a half during the late 1980s, I was employed by a company that was creating an early CD-ROM version of a database somewhat along the lines of the old paper copy readers’ guide to periodicals. The staff was small, but generally competent, and even though we weren’t supposed to specialize in any one topic, human nature led us in that direction. Management tolerated it so long as the results were acceptable.
Thus, the woman who’d always wanted to go to medical school always abstracted the New England Journal of Medicine and Lancet. One of the guys was a budding young investor and grabbed Barron’s and Forbes, while another hoarded the sports magazines.
Being the resident Europhile and history buff, it soon fell to me to act as the division’s foreign affairs desk. In practice, since we only abstracted English language publications, this fact brought me into constant contact with periodicals from the UK, and The Economist, New Statesman and Punch all were constant companions throughout my stay. Because these alone didn’t provide sufficient articles to meet the quota, I looked for other fairly dependable choices that would provide both sustenance and numbers. National Review fit the bill.
Buckley was a familiar name and face, and I’d read some of his essays and columns while in college, but it wasn’t until the period of twice monthly paid exposure that I began to appreciate the breadth, erudition and vigor of his polemical style. Good writing’s good writing, though in my view sadly wasted in defending the likes of Joseph McCarthy.
Certainly the oppressive whole of today’s bile-spewing conservative blogosphere could learn more than a few lessons from Buckley’s techniques of argumentation and his ability to express himself without overtly foaming at the mouth. That so few today aspire to such levels of credibility emphatically should not be interpreted as an indictment of the late wordsmith.
For a year and a half during the late 1980s, I was employed by a company that was creating an early CD-ROM version of a database somewhat along the lines of the old paper copy readers’ guide to periodicals. The staff was small, but generally competent, and even though we weren’t supposed to specialize in any one topic, human nature led us in that direction. Management tolerated it so long as the results were acceptable.
Thus, the woman who’d always wanted to go to medical school always abstracted the New England Journal of Medicine and Lancet. One of the guys was a budding young investor and grabbed Barron’s and Forbes, while another hoarded the sports magazines.
Being the resident Europhile and history buff, it soon fell to me to act as the division’s foreign affairs desk. In practice, since we only abstracted English language publications, this fact brought me into constant contact with periodicals from the UK, and The Economist, New Statesman and Punch all were constant companions throughout my stay. Because these alone didn’t provide sufficient articles to meet the quota, I looked for other fairly dependable choices that would provide both sustenance and numbers. National Review fit the bill.
Buckley was a familiar name and face, and I’d read some of his essays and columns while in college, but it wasn’t until the period of twice monthly paid exposure that I began to appreciate the breadth, erudition and vigor of his polemical style. Good writing’s good writing, though in my view sadly wasted in defending the likes of Joseph McCarthy.
Certainly the oppressive whole of today’s bile-spewing conservative blogosphere could learn more than a few lessons from Buckley’s techniques of argumentation and his ability to express himself without overtly foaming at the mouth. That so few today aspire to such levels of credibility emphatically should not be interpreted as an indictment of the late wordsmith.
5 comments:
Roger,
I agree with your take on Buckley. I enjoyed reading his work though agreeing with his take about 50% of the time. When I did disagree, I still found him a very good read. That is something very hard to find with any other writers these days.
As far as “today’s bile-spewing conservative blogosphere” I find an equal amount from both liberal and conservative. At least the ones that openly proclaim the gospels of Democrats and Republicans. Rather than your typical dress shoe rubbers, one would be best suited with hip waders when trodding the political opinions blogosphere. Third party and independents do spend much more time promoting their agenda and introducing themselves rather than normal political cow patty tossing.
Buckley is correcting usage in heaven
Buckley is survived by his hip satirical novelist son Christopher, his pale imitation of its former self magazine, and George Will's wardrobe and middle initial.
His style was unequaled, but his substance was the stuff of a pioneer trodding across the wilderness. He truly was the father of the conservative movement and the fact that he wrote, spoke and changed hearts and minds without trying to take you down at the knees was refreshing.
The man knew how to string words together in an honest argument and, in this climate today, that will be sorely missed.
WOW! talk about Bile-spewing.
thanks for the link that proves this non intellectuals’ point, Bookseller
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