If you seek humility, write a book. In 1994 I witnessed the publication of my monograph,Texian Iliad: A Military History of the Texas Revolution. By the modest standards of academic publishing the book has enjoyed healthy sales —although they cause Tom Clancy and Stephen King no loss of sleep. Newspapers and popular magazines such as Texas Monthly featured favorable reviews. The book won a number of prizes and the prestigious Texas Institute of Letters inducted as a member.
I was beginning to feel that I had made a worthwhile contribution to knowledge. Then came the critiques—late as usual—of my fellow academics. In truth, I can't whine that much. Overall, the scholarly reviewers were extremely kind.
Ronald Davis at Southern Methodist University perceptively concluded: "Steven [sic] Hardin draws a vivid picture of the war for Texas independence—engrossing, balanced, astute. Texian Iliad is a model of historical craftsmanship; it is also a splendid tale told with wisdom and compassion." Okay, I can handle that, even if Professor Davis did manage to misspell my name. My colleague, Professor Paul Lack, applauded the effort but expressed quibbles that centered upon my assessment of Houston's conduct during the San Jacinto campaign. "Hardin presents the participants' 'two distinct images' of Houston as either timidly uncertain or coolly confident and concludes that 'neither view is entirely true nor entirely false.' This hedge, while understandable, is not entirely sufficient." On the other hand, my old friend Margaret Swett Henson offered more biting criticism: "The first six chapters focusing on events leading to the Alamo and Goliad are the main strength of the book. Hardin's bias against General Sam Houston lessens the impact of the remaining chapters."
Talk about damned if you do and damned if you don't. Lack gigs me for sitting on the fence, while Henson slams me for partisanship. Margaret's criticism really hurt because I had worked assiduously to be impartial, not only to Houston, but all the participants. My first impulse was to throw up my hands, say to hell with it, and surmise there's just no pleasing some folks. In hindsight, however, I believe that Professor Lack is correct. I was so busy trying to be evenhanded that readers really don't know where I stand. The writer's first obligation is to communicate clearly and succinctly, and in that regard, I failed.
