Benjamin Franklin: An American Life

When I engaged in a debate with the person who recommended the Steve Jobs biography to me, he suggested that a person can’t be a great leader without being an asshole.  I argued that great leaders can be inherently kind people, and I cited Benjamin Franklin as an example.  Fortuitously, Walter Isaacson, the author of Steve Jobs, had also written Benjamin Franklin: An American Life.  My debate partner and I agreed that this book would be a good basis upon which to continue the discussion.  

Isaacson’s evidence suggests that I was right.  Well, mostly right.  Franklin was well liked, especially among women.  He was fantastically smart and enviably clever.  He was charming, witty, unassuming, optimistic.  He hated conflict but exercised cunning.  All of these qualities, along with his keen wordcraft, made him a naturally great diplomat.  

However, I must concede some points:  Franklin struggled to sustain friendships with men, and he was surprisingly distant from - even cold toward - his wife and children.

Walter Isaacson

Throughout the book’s 590 pages (including a cast of characters, extensive notes, and an index), Isaacson carefully constructs a comprehensive picture of Benjamin Franklin, from his ancestry through his death.  He delves into his family life, education, and religious perspective, his professional path and personal habits, his friendships and falling-outs, experiments and inventions, accomplishments and failures, and best of all, his writings.

Yes, what I loved most about this biography is Isaacson’s reliance on original sources, especially Franklin’s own compositions - newspaper publications, pamphlets, almanacs, etc.  Some are comical, some are beautiful, some are profound.  I was affected by them all, but my very favorites were the letters to his girlfriends.  They’re colloquial and enchanting, perfect specimens of his gift for wit and soft manipulation. (For more on Franklin's own writing, see my review on his autobiography.)

But as sweet as Franklin was to women at large, his marriage struck me as sad. He took Deborah’s hand out of moral obligation and was faithful to her, and he genuinely appreciated her practicality and frugality.  Still, their relationship was passionless.  He loved adventure and travel, and she stubbornly stuck her stick in the Philadelphia mud.  For the last ten years of their marriage, he lived in England for business and pleasure, and he established a surrogate family there with his landlady and her daughter.  He was overseas when Deborah suffered a stroke, and despite the doctor’s letters urging him to return, he stayed in England until after her death.  He was no better toward his children.  His relationships with his son and daughter ranged from politely detached to downright hostile.  So it seems that Franklin, like many of us, could get along with almost everyone but his own family.

Deborah Franklin

Then did I lose the debate?  Was Benjamin Franklin an asshole?  At times, I thought so, but mainly, I liked him.  And this book.  A lot.



Check it out on Amazon!