History in human scale

History is a constant interest to me—an understatement—and when I read for fun and enjoyment, as is customary in the summer, I tend to read biographies. What makes biography so appealing is that it brings history down to the human level.

A good biography is not just the story of a person’s life, with all the facts and dates. At its best, biography introduces the reader to another mind, in another age, in a way that even the best narrative history cannot do. The best biographies captivate as they educate, translating the biggest ideas and the deepest convictions—the largest events of history and the turning points of civilization—even as they reveal a person, a genuine individual.

A good biography can reveal England’s King Henry VIII to be a real person, not just a lusty prince. The reader learns why he was so determined to have a son, lest England be fatally weakened by a dynastic crisis. This is the same Henry who wrote a treatise against Martin Luther, only to decide, admittedly with a mix of motivations, to turn England away from the pope and toward its own path of reformation. Abraham Lincoln the boy explains Abraham Lincoln the president. The same is true of George Washington.

The biographies that linger in my memory demonstrate that an unimaginable weight can rest on fragile human shoulders. William Manchester made that point clear when, after describing Britain’s crisis after Hitler’s invasion of France, and after painting a horrifying (and accurate) depiction of Britain’s ­crisis of leadership, he argued that England’s hope would come down to a singular leader who could inspire unprecedented greatness in the British people. He then offered my favorite line in all of biographical literature: “In London, there was such a man.”

That man, of course, was Winston Churchill. The Bible communicates the meaning and significance of every human life, and simultaneously points to specific human lives that changed history—Abraham, Moses, Samuel, David, Esther, Peter, and Paul. The four Gospels are biographical in telling the story of Jesus, as Luke candidly makes clear in his introduction. The four Gospels are much more than biography, but they are not less.

Every human life, however long or short, famous or humble, is a story. But some lives stand out. We want to be told of prophets and kings and emperors, but we also want to know of reformers and missionaries, generals of armies and titans of industry. Often, the best biography is one you do not expect to be all that interesting … until it is.

Let me recommend three biographies that illustrate my point. The first is Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther (1950) by Roland Bainton. Professor Bainton held the wonderfully named Titus Street Chair in Ecclesiastical History at Yale for more than four decades. His biography of the great Reformer is a classic, and it stands the test of time. Readers will learn much about the Reformation, but they will learn those lessons through Bainton’s epic chapter-by-chapter telling of Luther’s unfolding story.

I would also recommend Churchill: Walking With Destiny (2018) by Andrew Roberts, recently elevated by King Charles III as Baron Roberts of Belgravia. Roberts has an incredible feel for biography, and, just as those who know me would expect a biography of Churchill on this list, those who know me should expect I would recommend any biography by Roberts.

In a different vein, I recommend Ron Chernow’s Titan: The Life of John D. Rockefeller, Sr. (1998). Chernow is another influential writer of recent years, and in this book he accomplishes what a great biographer can do—he helps the reader to understand Rockefeller, warts and all, as well as his context. You may think you would not be interested in such a man and such a time. I dare you to find out.

One of the burning questions in current biography is whether Robert Caro will ever finish the last volume of his monumental biography of Lyndon Baines Johnson. Trust me, this is a pressing issue. Those of you who get it, get it. As for the rest, read the first volume, The Years of Lyndon Johnson: The Path to Power (1982), and try not to be hooked. Trust me on this. Such is the power of biography.