Let’s get one thing out of the way right off the bat: if it’s an issue for you that Bill O’Reilly co-authored this book, you’re going to have to get over it. You’re going to also have to get over the fact that O’Reilly’s name takes up more real estate on the cover than anything else (that includes the mugs of Jackie, Bobby and JFK himself).
You see, this isn’t a political story. It’s a story involving politics, sure, but that’s a notable difference.
Killing Kennedy is really a story about two men, one powerful and loved by many and another unknown but desperate to change that. It’s the story of the lead up to and final years in the lives of two men destined to be intertwined in the pages of history, as unforeseen of a possibility as that may have been even eight months prior to November 22nd, 1963.
Now, before we go any further, you should know that both John F. Kennedy and Lee Harvey Oswald die at the end of this book. I know, I know… no one likes a spoiler, but I figured if you’ve made it past the title page, you’ve probably put it all together.
I joke about this because O’Reilly and co-author Martin Dugard are obviously digging in on a subject often covered and debated. I myself happen to be a little obsessed with the topic, but even if you’re not a morbidly-fascinated nerd like me it’s pretty hard not to know the basic facts of what went down that day in Dallas.
And yet, despite the rehashing of (what I consider to be) fairly common knowledge— any number of affairs and sexual indiscretions on the part of JFK (not the least of which include a brief bout with Marilyn Monroe), alleged connections between JFK and the mafia, etc.—there’s still tons of nuggets in O’Reilly and Dugard’s narrative.
And it is just that… a narrative. The book reads more like simple fiction than historical rhetoric, and that’s a good thing. In fact, I feel like it’s one of the highest compliments you can pay a book of this style: at no point does it get truly slogged down by overly in-depth political talk, nonsensical conspiracy theories or anything other than the events that occurred, as they occurred.
As they point in the Sources section at the back of the book:
“The life and death of John F. Kennedy needs no embellishment… it’s important to remind the reader that Killing Kennedy is completely a work of nonfiction. It’s all true. The actions of each individual and the events that took place really happened. The quotations are words people actually spoke.”
I include this bit of reminder because when you read this book, it’ll seem too good to be true. The stories told therein, the details provided and accounts given are so complete in nature, it would seem only logical this must be a work of fiction.
But that, of course, is what makes the life (and death) of John F. Kennedy so fascinating. Despite it having played it right in front of us in the not-so-distant past, it seems as if his life, his family and the fascination America held with it were all concocted by some Hollywood screenwriter.
Inside that fairytale story, the one we all know (or think we know), there’s tons of information.
There’s nuggets about the history of Secret Service protection (Did you know that the officer assigned to protect Lincoln actually left the play that night to drink at a nearby tavern? Or that compulsory protection of the Vice President didn’t begin until 1962?) and Oswald’s failed attempt to travel to Cuba and Russia via Mexico City. There’s nuggets about John Kennedy’s propensity for casually wading into crowds (which would give his Secret Service detail panic attacks) or his daily routine (which would include at least one naked swim a day, sometimes with other members of his staff).
These, and many other insights, fill the pages of this book so that we’re not so much focusing on the Killing of Kennedy, but the life and times of the man as well.
