…[Swaim's] book is not a tell-all or an effort to settle scores. Instead, it's a wryly funny, beautifully written, sometimes bewildered, always astute dissection of what it is like to perform a thankless job for an unreasonable person in a dysfunctional office during a period of unusual turmoil…Mr. Swaim is so talented a writer, and has such an eye for a telling detail, that you suspect you could put him in any workplacechicken-processing plant, airport sunglass emporium, stoner skate parkand he would make it come alive in the best possible way…He may have been unsuccessful as a platitudinous speechwriter, but he has produced a marvelously entertaining book.
The Speechwriter: A Brief Education in Politics
Narrated by Jonathan Yen
Barton SwaimUnabridged — 5 hours, 54 minutes
The Speechwriter: A Brief Education in Politics
Narrated by Jonathan Yen
Barton SwaimUnabridged — 5 hours, 54 minutes
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Overview
The Speechwriter is a funny and candid introduction to the world of politics, where press statements are purposefully nonsensical, grammatical errors are intentional, and better copy means more words. Through his three years in the office of a controversial governor, Swaim paints a portrait of a man so principled he'd rather sweat than use state money to pay for air conditioning, so oblivious he'd wear the same stained shirt for two weeks, so egotistical he'd belittle his staffers to make himself feel better, and so self-absorbed he never once apologized to his staff for making his administration the laughing stock of the country. On the surface, this is the story of South Carolina governor Mark Sanford's rise and fall. But in the end, it's an account of the very human staffers who go into politics out of conviction and learn to survive a broken heart.
Editorial Reviews
08/31/2015
Swaim recounts numerous anecdotes from a three-year stint as a speech writer for former South Carolina governor Mark Sanford. Much of the book is an entertaining inside look at state politics and how the wheels of executive office grind. Many of the stories relate the thankless dedication of the staff in contrast with the ego-enlarged antics of politicians. Reader Yen solidly projects with his deep and commanding voice, which maintains the listener’s attention. He moves through the narration at a steady pace, only becoming more deliberate when it fits within a given anecdote. Unfortunately, Yen fails to capture the light and humorous tone Swaim takes when relaying the ridiculousness of his work. As a result Yen’s attitude in the narration comes across as self-righteous, making Swaim seem just as petty as his boss. A Simon & Schuster hardcover. (July)
In an elegiac tone that recalls Robert Penn Warren’s classic novel All the King’s Men . . . [The Speechwriter] is less an account of a politician’s fall than an inquest into mass democracy. . . . His speechwriting days may be over, but Swaim seems to have found his true voice.
"Excellent.
A deeply humane study. . . . Swaim is plainly a gifted writer. His professional experience shows in a firm, easy command of language; with disciplined consistency, his sentences do what they’ve been ordered to do. There’s a smooth economy to his prose, which rarely staggers or overheats. If it isn’t always lyrical, it still has a lean charm that more writing should. . . . The Speechwriter [is] urgent reading, for both its literary and civic merits.
One of the few good books about speechwriting. . . . [Swaim] has a fine eye, a gift for satire, and a clean, clear style. . . . Highly readable and entertaining.
The most ‘instant classic’ book I’ve read this year. . . . Revealing and unusual: a political memoir that traffics in neither score-settling nor self-importance but that shares, in spare, delightful prose, what the author saw and learned. The Speechwriter feels like Veep meets All the King’s Men—an entertaining and engrossing book not just about the absurdities of working in the press shop of a Southern governor but also about the meaning of words in public life.
"The governor's marital infidelity . . . and other moral shortcomings take a back seat here. And deservedly so, for Swaim's approach is far more entertaining and, if you care about language, far more indicting. He describes an administration in which the mistreatment of language—and staff—was commonplace."
"Swaim's book is an uproariously funny and sometimes just weird story of idealistic belief and politics corrupted by narcissism and ruined by scandal. Unfortunately it's all too true."
[Swaim] writes . . . in a breezy, elliptical manner, letting his material work for him. . . . Swaim is insightful not only about Sanford but about the nature of modern political communications. . . . Although it left me feeling slightly dubious about democracy, I have no trouble calling The Speechwriter, with its gloomy reflections and wonderfully vivid character sketches, the best American political memoir written in my lifetime.
[The Speechwriter] is brilliant. It’s not a 'tell-all,' nor is it even really an attack on Sanford. Instead, The Speechwriter is a dead-on depiction of life inside a modern day political spin roomwith Swaim demonstrating on every page the supreme talent he brought to the table. Talent which Sanford wasted. . . . As for the politician chronicled by the book? Swaim nails him. The Speechwriter doesn’t just provide us the occasional glimpse into Sanford’s confounding eccentricities and chronic narcissismit literally exposes the flawed essence of the man.
"[Swaim's] book is not a tell-all or an effort to settle scores. Instead, it’s a wryly funny, beautifully written, sometimes bewildered, always astute dissection of what it is like to perform a thankless job for an unreasonable person in a dysfunctional office during a period of unusual turmoil. . . . Swaim is so talented a writer, and has such an eye for a telling detail, that you suspect you could put him in any workplace—chicken-processing plant, airport sunglass emporium, stoner skate park—and he would make it come alive in the best possible way. . . . He may have been unsuccessful as a platitudinous speechwriter, but he has produced a marvelously entertaining book."
A must-read.
Highly amusing. . . . A remarkable account of a political education told with humor and insight.
"Barton Swaim's little jewel of a memoir reads like the best political fiction. Beyond taking you into the core of an epic political meltdown, Swaim's funny story also illuminates the eroding standards of language, the oddities of office life and the exquisite torture of working for a narcissistic and unappreciative boss."
A candid, witty look inside the world of high-stakes politics. . . . A humorous and sobering glimpse inside the modern political crucible.
"A masterpiece."
A wry and eloquent memoir . . . offering an inside look at the life of a political wordsmith and, along the way, a portrait of a politician who was his own worst enemy. Beautifully written . . . The Speechwriter is a cautionary tale and well-timed, appearing as the race for the White House intensifies, with politicians crowding rooms hoping to impress and true believers hanging on every word they say.
Darkly humorous. . . . Anyone who’s ever sought to maintain sanity in an absurd workplace knows that it requires a kind of gallows humor, a tone Swaim maintains throughout this terrifically entertaining book.
"At last: a political memoir 100-percent free of axe-grinding, score-settling, and self-promotion. What’s left? A beautifully written, hilariously human inside look at a certain governor’s ruinous, um, hike on the Appalachian Trail."
A deftly funny look at life inside the Sanford bubble and a thoughtful, clear-eyed account of what it takes to put words in the mouth of a politician in love with the sound of his own voice.
It would be hard to find a better book in the year leading up to the 2016 election than Swaim’s memoir. . . . His account is unlike the usual political insider’s story. For one thing, it’s better written, funnier too, blessedly concise, and free of huffing and puffing.
Swaim's Veep-like experience of working for Sanford supplied him with a book's worth of mortifyingly hilarious anecdotes, and he tells them exceptionally well. But the greatest value of The Speechwriter is the deeper truths about political language, and the people who employ it, that Swaim learned during his tour of duty. . . . The best book about politics I've read in years.
The Speechwriter is a funny book. Grammarians and word nerds will certainly love it. Political junkies too. . . . But for more than anyone else, The Speechwriter will appeal to other writers.
A highly readable account of [Swaim’s] three years in the governor’s employ. Part All the King’s Men and part Horrible Bosses, it’s fascinating and almost impossible to put down.
"This is the truest book I've read about politics in some time, hilarious and sordid and wonderfully written."
"Politicians don’t always come with warm smiles and narcissistic dispositions, but it was Barton Swaim’s bad luck to work for one, and our good luck that he stayed long enough to tell his very funny tale."
"The book's best passages explore the appeal of charismatic, earnest, and morally challenged souls like Sanford, who invariably devastate their true-believing but self-interested, in-on-the-game handlers and operatives through disastrous public exposure." ---Publishers Weekly
A wry and eloquent memoir . . . offering an inside look at the life of a political wordsmith and, along the way, a portrait of a politician who was his own worst enemy. Beautifully written . . . The Speechwriter is a cautionary tale and well-timed, appearing as the race for the White House intensifies, with politicians crowding rooms hoping to impress and true believers hanging on every word they say.
"[Swaim's] book is not a tell-all or an effort to settle scores. Instead, it’s a wryly funny, beautifully written, sometimes bewildered, always astute dissection of what it is like to perform a thankless job for an unreasonable person in a dysfunctional office during a period of unusual turmoil. . . . Swaim is so talented a writer, and has such an eye for a telling detail, that you suspect you could put him in any workplace—chicken-processing plant, airport sunglass emporium, stoner skate park—and he would make it come alive in the best possible way. . . . He may have been unsuccessful as a platitudinous speechwriter, but he has produced a marvelously entertaining book."
"The book's best passages explore the appeal of charismatic, earnest, and morally challenged souls like Sanford, who invariably devastate their true-believing but self-interested, in-on-the-game handlers and operatives through disastrous public exposure." Publishers Weekly
A rollicking jaunt through Mark Sanford's last term as governor.
Enjoyable.
The Speechwriter is alternately hilarious and just plain sad. And it is well-written.
Swaim undertakes his rueful memoir without malice or anger, so that what we read is the sad and sometimes hilarious story of politics as usual in America. And what did Swaim learn as the governor’s speechwriter? That you can admire a man, agree with his ideas, even like him, but you can never, never, ever trust a politician.
An enjoyable, well-written volume. As he chronicles key events during his time in the governor’s office, Swaim demonstrates that he has an ear for dialogue, an eye for detail and a gift for pithy statements (as you’d expect from a speechwriter). Whether he’s describing the governor’s opponents in the legislature, or recreating conversations between himself, the governor and other staff members, Swaim displays an inspired literary hand.
Revealing, insightful, [and] hilarious. . . . Unlike other my-time-in-politics memoirs, Swaim does not go out of his way to trash his former boss or make everyone around look like idiots. If you are at all interested in politics, the crafting of words, and the absurdities of human nature, you’ll enjoy this book.
A sober, lucid, funny story about language and its fraught relation to statesmanship. … Unlike nearly every book of its kind, The Speechwriter at its core is sensitive and apolitical: Swain just wants to understand why we so often insist on mangling the language.
For political junkies looking for more than the routine gotcha memoir, or another insider tale of revenge, Barton Swaim’s deliciously wicked The Speechwriter is this summer’s must read. With unsparing precision, Swaim dissects the inner workings and galactic stupidities of political life—the wall of spin, the thirst for glory, and above all the insatiable quest for acclaim and attention. The hypocrisy and duplicity revealed in the 200-page book read like a chapter from Kafka or an absurdist play.
Very funny . . . original and interesting.
A candid, witty look inside the world of high-stakes politics.
06/15/2015
The subtitle alludes to the author's three years (2007–10) as a speechwriter and communications officer for South Carolina's controversial Governor Mark Sanford. Although Swaim's education was brief, it was memorable, leaving him embittered about Sanford and politicians in general. The governor was popular with voters, having been reelected in a landslide victory, but his staff and most of the state legislators loathed him. Swaim shares stories that will leave readers shaking their heads about Sanford's bullying and arrogance. Some of these tales are funny, but the humor is more gallows than knee-slapping. To his credit, Swaim lauds his former boss for being able to relate to his constituents, and for his principled stand against President Barack Obama's stimulus package. Sanford's second term ended under threats of impeachment for his extramarital affair, which became a national media event and a disgrace for the governor and staffers such as Swaim who believed in him. Currently, Sanford represents South Carolina in the House of Representatives and Swaim is a regular contributor to the Wall Street Journal and the Weekly Standard. VERDICT The brisk narrative will grip readers who enjoy insider accounts and offers an unvarnished view of pressure-cooker politics. See Horace Busby's The Thirty-First of March and William F. Gavin's Speechwright for fascinating takes on presidential speechwriters.—Karl Helicher, Upper Merion Twp. Lib., King of Prussia, PA
Swaim served four years as a communications officer and speechwriter for former South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, who famously left the state for several days to visit his Argentinian girlfriend without anyone’s knowledge—including his wife’s. Here Swain offers a memoir that is also an ever-so-lightly disguised seriocomic treatment of the wild world of contemporary political officeholders and their dedicated and often-abused staffs. Jonathan Yen’s steady narration is clear, thoughtful, and engaging. Surprisingly, his low-key attempt at a Southern accent works well. The combination of charismatic megalomania and potential ethical abuses presented by Swain makes this memoir informative and, at turns, nauseating. Listen to this tapestry of public life with some caution. W.A.G. © AudioFile 2015, Portland, Maine
2015-04-21
A former speechwriter for an ex-South Carolina governor offers a glimpse into what it really meant to be a "fashioner of words" for a self-obsessed politician who fell from grace. When Swaim went to work as Mark Sanford's speechwriter, he was a naïve English doctorate with romantic notions of what his job would entail. He believed that his position would not only provide him with all the "gratification of being a writer," but also give him "political power, or at least a veneer of it." Within just a few weeks, though, the author went from feeling that he was indispensable to realizing that he was working for a hypercontrolling narcissist with a tin ear for language. Swaim transcribed Sanford's often inarticulate letters to learn the governor's syntax and the "ungainly phrases" that characterized it. In between Sanford's half-comic, half-terrifying "bouts of rage," Swaim also learned that in the political world, what mattered more than clarity and grammatical precision was the ability to sound "consequential" to both constituents and the media. The author soon became just another bureaucrat with no special investment in either the success of Sanford's administration or in his political ambitions, which at one point included the presidency. Only when the governor admitted to both an affair with an Argentine woman and to using state funds to visit her did Swaim realize just how much he had invested in his job. With melancholy bitterness, he writes, "everything we'd worked for was discredited." The author briefly and incompletely sketches out the story of the colorful Sanford and his political fall. The narrative is strongest in its quiet reflection of the end of Swaim's political innocence. As he came to realize, democracy—with its promise of liberty and justice for all—is ultimately based on rhetorical manipulation of the masses. Candid but not especially compelling.
Product Details
BN ID: | 2940170551248 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Tantor Audio |
Publication date: | 07/14/2015 |
Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
The Speechwriter
1
THE DUMPS
About twenty of us sat in the conference room waiting for the boss to walk in. The room was warm and smelled faintly of sweat. A pair of law clerks quietly debated the correct pronunciation of “debacle.” At last Paul asked what the meeting was about. “I think,” June said, “the governor wants to apologize to the staff.” She said it with a wry look, but nobody laughed.
Stewart looked up from a magazine. “He already did that,” he snapped. “He apologized to his mistress, and to his family—.”
“In that order,” Paul said.
Nervous laughter made its way around the room.
“I don’t think we can handle another apology,” Stewart went on, throwing down the magazine. “Because let me tell you, I know what an apology from this governor sounds like, and it ain’t really an apology. It’s more like—.”
He paused.
Someone said, “More like what?”
“I’ll just put it this way. His apologies tend to have an unapologetic tone.”
Another minute passed, and then the governor walked in. All went silent. He sat in the only remaining chair and made jokes with one of the interns.
A week before, he had been openly talked about by influential commentators in New York and Washington as a presidential candidate. In national media reports, his name had been routinely used in conjunction with the terms “principled stand,” “courageous,” “crazy,” “unbalanced,” and “interesting.” The party’s biggest donors had begun to call him and to pay him visits. Now he was the punch line to a thousand jokes; letters demanding his resignation appeared in newspapers; the word “impeachment” circulated through the capital like rumors of an assassination plot.
“How are y’all?” he said. “Wait—don’t answer that.”
More nervous laughter.
“Aahh.” That was his preface to saying anything significant. “Aahh. But that’s why I called you in here. I just wanted to say the obvious, which is the obvious.”
Paul gave me a look of incomprehension.
“I mean, the obvious—which is that I caused the storm we’re now in. And that’s made everything a little more difficult for everybody in here, and for that I want to say the obvious, which is that I apologize. But you know”—he rose up in his seat to an upright posture—“you know, I was telling one of the boys”—the governor had four sons—“this morning. We were up early and I was saying, ‘Look, the sun came up today.’ It’s a beautiful thing to see. And it’s a beautiful thing regardless of the storms of life. Of which this is one.”
People shifted in their seats and glanced at each other questioningly.
“As it happens,” the governor went on, “and before this storm started, I’d been reading Viktor Frankl’s book about being in a concentration camp. And it’s just incredible to me how you can find beauty, you can find reasons to keep going, in the most appalling circumstances. And I just wanted to say to everybody, keep your head up. Keep pushing forward. And let’s not be in the dumps here. The sun came up today. Aahh. We’re not in a concentration camp. So let’s not stay in the dumps. We can’t make much progress on the important things if we’re in the dumps. So if you’re in the dumps, get out. I mean, of the dumps. Get out of the dumps.”
Nobody spoke.
“Aahh. So, anybody want to say anything? Comments? Pearls of wisdom?”
Still no one spoke.
“Okay, well—.”
“Actually I’d like to say something.” That was Stella.
“Okay.”
“I just want to say—. Actually maybe I shouldn’t.”
“No, it’s okay,” the governor smiled, “go ahead.”
“No, I think I won’t.”
“You sure?”
“Mm. Yeah.”
The governor walked out. Stewart looked around the room and said, “For those of you who are newer to the office, that was the governor’s version of a pep talk. Do you feel pepped?”
Later that afternoon I asked Stella what she’d been intending to say. She had often told me that she didn’t like her job—her husband wanted her to keep it for the income—and had often tried to get herself fired. I thought this might have been one of those times. She narrowed her eyes and pointed at me. “You know what I was about to say? You really want to know? I was going to say, ‘You know what, governor—maybe what you say is true. Maybe we should be thankful that we’re not in a concentration camp.’” You could hear a slight tremor in her voice. “‘And maybe we take the sun rising for granted, and we shouldn’t. But you’re not really the one who should tell us that right now. And if you do say anything, it should be more like Sorry I flushed all your work down the toilet, people. Sorry I made you all a joke. Sorry about your next job interview, the one where you’re going to be brought in as a curiosity and then laughed at.’”
“Stella, I wish you had said that.”
She had tears in her eyes.