David Brewster (2) (1939–)

Commissioned as part of the state’s centennial celebration in 1989, this book sets itself an immense task -- presenting the stories of the men and women who, over a 400-year period, shaped the future of the Pacific Northwest and, most specifically, what is now the state of Washington.

Roger Sale, in his introduction, does an admirable job of immediately identifying the schizoid break between the eastern and western parts of the state. No one can truly understand this region without acknowledging and exploring that deep division.

Divided into historical sections – Creators, Visionaries, and Contemporaries, the biographical essays are interspersed with sidebar articles, often culled from personal letters and diaries in the early sections. The essays by and large are lively and informative, and the sidebars provide an alternative or expanded view of the movers and shakers. It’s only when the book moves to “contemporaries” that the information threatens to become the worst kind of boosterism. Things bog down considerably, and the reader may be forgiven for skipping the stories of businessmen and women in favor of the material on Tom Robbins, Jimi Hendrix, and Bruce Lee. Curiously, they managed to utterly ignore Microsoft, which by the mid-80s was already casting a significant shadow across the region.

The biggest problem, however, is the physical design. It’s a cumbersome and bizarre 9 ½” wide by 8 ½” tall – when opened, its nearly 20” wingspan is too big for holding comfortably in the hands. It must be rested on a lap or tabletop, and it’s fatiguing to read that way. Someone apparently tried to save a few pennies in the assembly process, as the 519-page bulk puts unrealistic strains on the typical paperback “perfect” binding. (My copy has been read perhaps three times and is already uncomfortably sprung.) The book’s curious design leaves massive white space margins – artistic as hell, but wildly impractical. A more traditional layout would have resulted in a publication perhaps two/thirds of its current dimensions, making a much more reader-friendly and durable volume.

Even worse, the sidebars are dropped randomly into the biographical essays like raisins in a cookie. The reader is happily absorbing the story of Isaac Stevens, the first territorial governor, and on turning the page suddenly finds Ezra Meeker holding forth on the Medicine Creek Council of 1854. And two pages later, we pick up the interrupted sentence concerning Stevens again. Why these excerpts weren’t placed at the beginning or end of the essays is incomprehensible, since the reader can only appreciate them by skipping over them to finish reading the essays, and then going back to peruse the inserts.

In short, the book’s designers should be taken out and shot. At the very least, they should never again be allowed to design any publication more complex than a trifold brochure explaining parking regulations.

Mostly a curiosity, the book might make an interesting addition to a regional history collection, but it is not a particularly useful tool for the serious scholar.… (plus d'informations)