2.5/5 - GOOD

I was swindled a little bit by this book. It's title (what you would assume to be its thesis), The Speechwriter: A brief education in politics, is well within my wheelhouse. Public relations, communications, writing, all my bread and butter. And from inside baseball, this is an amusing book to read through - recounting things I've long forgotten: a summer child's experience within the bizarre world of bureaucracy.

In general, it is a brilliant read for those with a passing interest in how the general public would view the sausage being made. Alternatively, and as I will expand upon, political junkies will also appreciate the text. Those that want to know all there is to know about specific events in politics… particularly in South Carolina… in the late naughts… especially if they need to know everything relating to former governor Mark Sanford.

What it isn't, and my main reason for picking it up, is a speechwriting centric view of US politics. In fact, any green staffer could have written this book. In the memoir, Barton Swaim delivers a portrait of the then Governor Sanford's final years in office. Peppered throughout this biography are a handful of autobiographical insights of, specifically, a speechwriter.

The text shines as an autobiography with the chapter Verbiage. Here Swaim highlights the power of language within politics. He focuses his attention of what words can do in the hands of the unscrupulous. Those who know how to wield it against the general public (perfecting what an academic in English - such as Swaim - would consider either clumsy, poorly written, or simply incorrect language) to garner the perfect illusion of having said something whilst being ultimately meaningless. This chapter was what I believed the entire book would be.

Often times the book also lacks in Swaim's perspective or voice all together. This could be painted as a stroke of ironic genius on the part of the author; the first third of the book focuses on Swaim trying to find the Governor's voice throughout all the material he is tasked with writing. Halfway through there is a particularly striking example and review of how little the Governor considers those around him unless they are assisting him in achieving his goals. Everyone within the office is berated, dehumanised, and is never an individual unto themselves, instead part of the singularity of the Governor's ambition. Again, an impressive sample of what would make a compelling biography of Sanford rather than Swaim.

Advocating for the author, another approach could have been that Swaim wasn't trying to colour the readers response, instead allowing the audience to react to the ridiculous scenarios he rather straight-forwardly plays out. Swaim instead bookends his attitudes: the hope and potential of a novice as an introduction, and concluding with the jaded realities of his experience. If that were the case, then why promote the book from the unique perspective?

Really, despite the title, this book is an exposé. The title appears to be more of an editorial or publication choice to entice readers. A ploy I entirely fell for. Swaim is not an experience speech writer, based entirely on the book's opening chapters, and so if you go into this expecting analysis of writing strategy, environment, or technique, this is not the book for you. Instead, it is a fish-out-of-water perspective that provides you with a glimpse into some of the grind political lackies go through on a daily basis. ( )

What a horrible job! Swaim hires on as a speech writer for South Carolina's governor Mark Sanford, a thoroughly unlikable man. Swaim doesn't seems to disagree with the governor's politics, but he finds the governor a horrible man to work for and to write for. Then bad goes to worse as the governor disappears for a weekend and the story of his affair with an Argentine divorcee hits the news. Swaim's foray into politics has landed him in a hell-hole of bad treatment, cliched speeches and despicable behavior. He escapes to another job, not in politics, but I'm thinking that the experience haunted him until he let it flow out in this book. ( )

Swaim was a political speechwriter for former South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, infamous for his “hike on the Appalachian Trail” for several days when in fact he was in Argentina with his mistress. This is a great tale of how a naïve young man came to work for a man who at one time was considered a presidential contender but through his own acts destroyed his future and his family. Sanford is portrayed as a controlling narcissist who was never happy much of anything and treated his staff very poorly. This is a great behind the scenes look at the type of people we elect to office. ( )

Not bad but not great either. There is nothing in the book itself to indicate that the author worked for Mark Sanford, governor of South Carolina, and leading light of the tea party until his fateful misstep of taking a trip to Argentina to see his mistress. There is a pretty good analysis at the end of the book on politicians in general; the motto is: don't trust them. ( )

Sanford and Company

The Speechwriter reads like a sitcom. Our hero is a sensible, rational being, in the midst of mad caricatures of people, with ways of doing things that are hilarious if you don’t work in that office. Running rings around everyone is The Governor, badly dressed, totally self-absorbed and uncaring, who some have learned to ignore, some have learned to accept, and our hero, to cope with. The trials of working for an inconsistent, unsatisfiable boss make for a number of cute episodes, as long as you can pretend it wasn’t all true.

Mark Sanford self-destructed as governor by lying that he was hiking in Appalachia when he was instead humping in Argentina. That he has come back, running unopposed, to a seat in Congress is sad, not so much because he was shamed, but because of the shameful way he ran his people and the state.

Barton Swaim was his speechwriter. He is hypersensitive to words and speech. He chooses them carefully, notes all their potential nuances warily, and reels at the failings of ordinary conversation and speech. It makes for a different sort of tell-all memoir. He has a fascinating take on letters to the editor. He divides them by category, cliché and purpose. He explains the basis for their printing and their complete pointlessness. He waxes eloquently on the art of saying nothing in sufficient words to make a letter, usually a thank you letter, unhelpful but impressive. His own writing is of course clear and concise, and his story is heartfelt and sensitive. You feel badly that he must ignore all his own knowledge and talent, and write trash for delivery to audiences the governor considers ignorant. The overall impression is of a mad governor surrounding himself with a bunch of mid twenties, unsavvy young men and women whose guidance and advice explain the awful state of government.

David Wineberg ( )