I have read all three of Robert Caro's volumes on LBJ with fascination. Caro is unsurpassed as a researcher, and while there is far too much repetition here (similar evidence marshalled to make a similar point) and too wide a sense of relevance (was it necessary to spend a chapter, for example, on Coke Stevenson's happy marriage AFTER he lost the 1948 Democratic Primary for the Senate to LBJ?) and a lot of stagey writing, too (eg, thundering one-sentence paragraphs), the degree to which Caro succeeds in reconstructing a context for the most minute of LBJ's machinations gives priceless insight and makes this a truly exciting work to read.
The great flaw of these books, however, is that they make Johnson a one-dimensional character, a tireless self-seeker and manipulator of men and women who cannot live a day without furthering his ambitions. In the service of his cause, Caro's Johnson never commits himself, never gives a hint of his true views, if he has any. He started out as a New Dealer but with Southern Conservatives he always behaved like one of them. Then finally, added to this portrait of the shamelessly sycophantic bully, Caro also would have us believe that Johnson all along was an idealist who really wanted to help people, a trait that Caro sees expressed in LBJ's heroic early performance as a teacher of poor Texas children. This assessment will be borne out by the record of LBJ's presidency (Caro is still at work), when Johnson did abandon his Southern base and revert to the emulation of his original model, FDR. But there is no way that the Johnson has described so far will be able convincingly to be transformed into the idealistic reformer president Caro hints at in volume theree. The complexity of motivation simply isn't there in these three volumes. Caro's LBJ seems always to be approached through the eyes of others, whereas LBJ's own point of view remains elusive.
LBJ's life makes a fascinating story--that of a man who used every dirty trick in the book on his way to the top, then tried to use his position to help people. Caro's book would have been better titled LBJ and the Art of Corruption, for he shows that part of the story brilliantly--how money and power work together (roughly, power equals money squared). It's the other side of the story that is unconvincing here, and we are still left wondering Who is the real LBJ?

Many books and articles have been written about the poetry of Robert Frost, but this book, astonishingly, makes almost all of them obsolete. Frost's critics have found him haunted by a dark vision but they have been hard pressed to say exactly what it was. They have struggled to find the real context of his thinking, but the poems, in spite of many melancholy readings, have remained elusive. What are these elegant meditations really about? Where does the impetus for these disturbing dramatic monologues and stark dialogues come from? Faggen's brilliantly researched and forcefully written book finally tells us the answer: Frost was obsessed with Darwin and his vision of the natural world. He said so many times (though none of his critics was willing to listen). And once you have recognized this fact, the grave, witty, tender, and frightful poems acquire a new clarity and force. Frost was no "spiritual drifter," no vague perveyor of "metaphysical terror," as earlier writers have thought, but the most sophisticated and tough-minded poet of science that modern culture has produced--the nearest thing we have to a Lucretius. This book takes a figure who has seemed conservative or even backward to his readers and shows him to be the most forward-looking artist of his generation. And it accomplishes this task with an easy mastery of detail that removes all doubt. "Never again would bird's song be the same," Frost wrote--never the same after reading Darwin, that is, nor will this poem be the same after reading Faggen. The romantic Frost is dead, and a new Frost is afoot. Some will mourn, some will rejoice at the news, but scholarship is seldom as conclusive as this and hardly ever as exciting.