For military memoirs, Grant’s is one of the most famous, and something of a gold standard. This is a combination of fame, circumstance, and good writing. Grant’s writing of orders was always predicated on being clear and direct, and it shows here as well.
That said, my big surprises are what the two volume are not about. In the end, this is about the highlight of his career, his time in the United States Army fighting the War of the Rebellion (as it’s called by the Official Records). As such, the second volume starts with the Chattanooga campaign, and then moves into the final year the war, describing it in relative detail from his viewpoint as the Commanding General of the Army. It does not go past this, into the last two decades of his life. Certainly things of interest happened, though I imagine he would not relish talking about politics at all, and would not figure a travelogue of his trip around the world after his presidential terms would hold any real interest.
The first volume is much less detailed, covering his early life, lightly passing over his time in West Point, and service in the Mexican-American War. The bulk of course deals with the first three years of the Civil War, dealing with his various posts and commands in that time. Again, I was surprised by what isn’t covered. Despite the fact that these are his memoirs, there’s not a lot of inward-looking examination. What you learn of Grant is more through what he does.
Notably, in the early chapters (or elsewhere), he never talks about his name. If you know anything about Grant, you know that he was born as Hiram Ulysses, and only became Ulysses Simpson by a mix up in his enrollment to West Point. It’s known that he did not like his original given name, but this isn’t discussed at all. Nor is his early Army nickname of “Sam” (from “Uncle Sam” Grant), nor even his early Civil War nickname of “Unconditional Surrender” Grant even mentioned. In a way, his name is part of what made him, and it is studiously ignored.
Similarly, his drinking and smoking are not mentioned, though it’s much easier to see why. With so many other memoirs already out, he was more at pains to give a record of what happened, at least from his point of view, with more reference to his correspondence as corroboration than many, and was not interested in indulging in a bunch of self-reflection. He knew the public was interesting in hearing what the hero of the Union had done, and his memoirs are aimed at precisely that desire.
