However, do not think-- not for one minute-- that Mr. Demos' 'care' is analogous to 'accuracy'. Through a preciously-wrought language of options and possibilities, Mr. Demos makes it seem as if he has constructed a tale as true as possible from the sources available. What he fails to let his audience know (but perhaps, depending on the extent of his postmodern embrace, he does know) is that this historical knowledge is a language, not a reality reconstructed. Demos' understanding of the Williams family, the circumstances of the massacre, the religious constructions of the First Great Awakening are perceptive, but not revolutionary. Moreover, they are not, in the end, terribly creative. Such a loss! This story is so exciting and possibly explosive and yet because of Mr. Demos' limiting commitment to the constructed historical methodology and imagined professional ethic, it is instead a notable monograph-- not explosive, just a kid toying with matches.
There are so many moments in the book where you can see Mr. Demos chomping at the bit-- wanting to say things, imagine things, narrate things-- but resisting. This is a story that could have been told beautifully, brilliantly, and compellingly had it embraced the story more and the imagined possibility of 'true' history less. Mr. Demos: I think you wanted to write a novel. But you didn't. If you had, do you think it would have been any less true than the tale here taped together?
