Word: rex
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...scene is a representative one in the political life of a man whose energy, earnestness and sheer charisma drove those who met him to awe. Morris’ new biography, Theodore Rex, covers in dramatic detail the Roosevelt administrations (1901-9) and, more importantly, their leader, whom more than one commentator characterized as the supreme political personality of his time. The previous installment of Morris’ Roosevelt trilogy, The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt, won a Pulitzer Prize...
...Theodore Rex lets Morris be Morris (not "Morris"), which is to say one of the most adroit biographers around. And every visit to the footnotes shows that those cinematic details--the wind that ruffles Teddy's hair on one page, the sunset that darkens windows on another--are all accounted for in some real person's memoirs or letters or in some old newspaper account...
With most biographies, it's only the specialist reader who bothers to flip back to the footnotes. Not so with Theodore Rex (Random House; 772 pages; $35). The second volume of Edmund Morris' projected three-volume set on the life of Teddy Roosevelt is likely to have just about everybody taking a peek back there once or twice. People are going to want to reassure themselves that the gifted but infamous Morris has not made up some of his nicely observed details, and not just because so much of this book has the hurtling pace and alert eye of good...
Dutch was a postmodern stunt that dumbfounded most critics. It also left a radioactive glow around the edges of Morris' reputation. Two years later, Theodore Rex offers Morris the chance to redeem himself by returning to the field of his first triumph. And let the record show that at no point in this book does Morris introduce himself into a subplot of the action. On the mid-September day in 1901 when Vice President Roosevelt gets word that President William McKinley has succumbed to an assassin's bullet, Morris isn't the messenger who brings the telegram. When Teddy plots...
...dear, it seems that a large rabid T-Rex named “thesis” has eaten my senior-year pie, dripping warm cherry filling all over my new winter white corduroys! “Shoot him! Shoot him!” I cry to no avail. The beast, unsatisfied with having eaten my pie, moves on to its next victim with that “no summa for you” grimace and “overdue library book fine” growl...