Count of Concord

Jerome Charyn

Publishers Weekly

From humble beginnings in colonial New Hampshire through to the courts of imperial Europe, Delbanco (Spring and Fall) imaginatively maps the deeds, misdeeds and accomplishments of the real-life polymath Benjamin Thompson (1753-1814), an American contemporary of Franklin and Jefferson, and their equal in scientific inquiry and sociological (if not philosophical) thought. Thompson has been neglected by American history because he was a Tory-i.e., he sided with the British during the Revolution-who was eventually made a count of the Holy Roman Empire under Francis II. Delbanco covers that material nicely, but is equally interested in Thompson's cunning study of household thermodynamics and horticulture, and his invention of such appliances as roasters and coffee pots. Along the way, Delbanco celebrates Thompson's social reforms and innovation (Thompson patented none of his gadgets, believing that they should belong to the poor) and his military genius, while casually detailing the married Thompson's libertine lifestyle and varied sexual peccadilloes. Unfortunately, the story is told from the point of view of Sally Ormsby Thompson Robinson, Thompson's fictional present-day descendant: her rat-a-tat voice is often intrusive, and the whole ends up more a collection of variously colorful set pieces than a character-driven novel. (May)

Library Journal

Delbanco (What Remains) here fictionalizes the life of one of the most widely accomplished yet unknown characters in American history. Benjamin Thompson married well; betrayed and abandoned his country; invented, among other things, the most efficient fireplace of his time; made tremendous contributions toward the welfare of the poor in Munich; proudly acquired titles, including count of the Holy Roman Empire; and established the Royal Institution of Great Britain. But as seen here, he had an irrevocably fractured relationship with his daughter. Although the narrator, a distant relative of Thompson's, writes pulp romances for a living, the novel is far from formula and titillation. Thoroughly researched, it will appeal to readers who are interested in the history of science, the early years of this nation, and the turbulent central Europe of Napoleon. But it should also appeal to a wider audience because Delbanco writes beautifully. In the penultimate chapter, for instance, he skillfully depicts the count's loneliness and deteriorating mind as he catalogs his contributions to humanity, justifies his transgressions, and lashes out at his second wife. Highly recommended for academic and public libraries.
—K.H. Cumiskey