tenance of national memory. In short,rnshe thinks hke a matriarch. She is selflesslyrndevoted to the transgenerationalrnsense of our country and voices only thernnoblest of patriotic sentiments. ThoughrnMrs. Clinton presents herself as a FirstrnLady through and through, some may bernas disappointed as I was that she did notrnchoose to reveal her secret method forrnmaking a 10,000 percent profit on an investmentrnin one year. (No doubt she willrnanswer that, and many other questions,rnin her next book.) We just have to rememberrnthat this book was devoted tornkids’ letters to the First Pets. Let’s try tornstay focused, shall we?rnSecondly, Dear Socks, Dear Buddy isrndefinitely the best book about kids’ lettersrnto Socks and Buddy that I have ever seen.rnI don’t mean that all the letters arernhere—it’s just a vibrant sampling of a vastrnoutpouring. But before I dispense somernenticing quotes, I think it would be nicernto stop and think about how many lettersrnthere were, and how nice it was of Mrs.rnClinton to let the veterans at the U.S.rnSoldiers’ and Airmen’s Home in Washingtonrnhandle all the mail and answerrnthe letters, and how nice again to let usrnknow how nice she was. There aren’trnany nasty letters here, thank goodness, ofrnthe “How come you SOBs don’t go backrnwhere you came from? Signed, Dave”rnvariety, or of the “Why they so many Lisbeansrnin yo cabinette?” stripe, or of thern”Socks and Buddy ain’t the only animalsrnin the White House” ilk. The lettersrnfrom our nation’s selected children arernsweet, humorous, and kindhearted. Therntexts could only be properly appreciatedrnby the unredeemed Ebenezer Scrooge,rnbut on the whole it’s nice to know thatrnthis is a book that anyone can read withoutrngetting all upset, and you don’t evenrnhave to read much because there are sornmany pictures of Bill and Hillary in intimaternfamily snapshots, in color.rnMrs. Clinton does not say, either becausernshe could not do so without invitingrnhorse laughs or because she just didrnnot want to, that there is much here torninvite a sense of pride in the nation’srnparents and teachers. The triviality ofrnthought and the illiteracy of much of thernexpression in the letters does not bodernwell for the future of the nation that Mrs.rnClinton cares so much about. She doesrnsay, “What touches me most about thernletters is how much the children give ofrnthemselves.” I wish she had been able tornsay, “Our children have mastered the elementsrnof orthography, grammar, andrnrhetoric. Besides that, they are seriousrnyoungsters, properly concerned with ourrnculture and civilization.” The evidencernis otherwise. Perhaps Mrs. Clinton simplyrnthinks that “giving of themselves”rnmeans “revealing their lack.” Or maybernwhat she is thinking is that in ten yearsrnthese “children” will be “voters.”rnThese young students seem not to takernschool very seriously, and I don’t knowrnwhy they should. Aimee Buchananrnwrites, “The stuff I like in school is math,rnlunch, music, gym and trips. We went torna show and it was hm. We ate lunch beforernwe went and we went on a bus. Wernwatch TV in school.”rnLooking for any irony or discursive reflectionrnamong the letters is unrewarding,rnbut Anna Campbell makes a stab atrnproviding some: “Does the presidentrndrink a lot of coffee? He might want tornswitch to decafe!rn”Ha! Ha!”rnGregory Kohl’s closing question tornSocks brings a welcome gothic element:rn”have you ever seen the Gohst of lincoln?”rnThe most tragic letter is from WillyrnDeCamp, addressed to Socks. “Is it nicernliving at the Whitehouse? I used to haverna Dog but we had to sell it because itrnscratched a little boy on a tricycle thenrnthe police officer.”rnEmily Forden asks Buddy an astuternquestion: “Do you help the presidentrnmake new laws and goverment decisions?”rnAnd Jillian McGaflFigan, referringrnto cat/dog conflict, uses the suggestivernword “JELLUS,” which should havernbeen stricken from this volume for reasonsrnneedless to relate.rnSo here is my third point (I’ve beenrncounting). There is little spark in thesernletters. The subtextual interest in DearrnSocks, Dear Buddy is in Mrs. Clintonrnand her projection of an idyllic home lifernin the White House, which is somehowrnrelated to a vision of the nation that is atrnonce kitschy-koo nice-ums and imperial.rnShe cannot write many words (if, in fact,rnshe writes any at all) without referencesrnto her own virtue or to the governmentrnwhich she seems to have confi.ised withrnthose powers formerly attributed to thernDeity, citing it as the authority on education,rnliteracy, writing, and pet care.rn”(Mrs. Clinton recommends neuteringrnwithout exception for all pets, which Irnthought a bit much imtil I rememberedrnhow that policy jibes with others concerningrn”reproductive services.”)rnI don’t doubt for a second thatrnDear Socks, Dear Buddy is a provocativernlook at hot-button issues, writtenrnwith bold fi-ankness by a womanrnwho once scorned baking cookiesrnand standing by her man. Made overrnon a recent cover of Vogue, HillaryrnRodham Clinton knows how to manipulaternthe American public. What DearrnSocks, Dear Buddy tells me—in its nuanced,rnpiquant, poignant, starry-eyed,rnheartfelt, and cornfed way—is that thernnon-author of this non-book is runningrnfor office.rnJ.O. Tate is a professor of English atrnDowUng College on Long Island.rnKind Words on a Thursdayrnby Constance Rowell MastoresrnIt seems that thoroughly modern verse,rnat odds with rhyme and reason,rnhas been exceedingly short with us —rnor long for that very reason.rn34/CHRONICLESrnrnrn