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[Simon & Schuster, 2003, ISBN: 0743255429]

The greatest claim to fame of The Hornet's Nest is that it's the "first novel ever written by an ex-president." But this isn't exactly true. Mr. Carter is indeed an ex-president, but his book is not a novel -- it's a narrative history decked out with novelistic devices, namely dialogue and fictional characters. It begins with something that looks like a plot, but within the first fifty pages it's trampled to mush by the headlong rush of RevWar events. Lots and LOTS of RevWar events. The scope is roughly twenty years, beginning in 1763, and Mr. Carter seems determined to pack in everything and everybody related to the conflict in Georgia during that period. This he does at the expense of character development, dramatic tension, personality, sensual detail, and all sense of place.

On the positive side, if the reader dutifully slogs through all 450+ pages he will receive a pretty good overview of the southern campaigns and the confused ebb and flow of Tory/patriot loyalties. The main "character," Ethan Pratt, is neutral when the fighting begins; like a lot of homesteaders southern and northern, he just wants to live his life in peace. Personal tragedy and violent treatment at the hands of Tories pushes him into the patriot camp, though he still doesn't seem to have strong feelings either way. Even at the Battle of King's Mountain, which kind of feels like a climax, his attitude is something like, Well, I'm here; may as well get off a few shots. (One of them happens to bring down Patrick Ferguson.) Ethan is the kind of hero (I use the term loosely) who lets things happen to him. He falls in love with his best friend's wife, but still feels a strong sense of loyalty to his own wife, and in the end he settles down with one of them but the reader doesn't know which. (Carter himself admitted in an interview that he doesn't know which--a clear case of a novelist shirking his responsibilities!)

Given the scope and plot structure (another term used loosely) of the book, Banastre Tarleton doesn't appear until the last 100 pages. He is first seen on the deck of a troop ship bound for the Carolinas, in the act of throwing up in a bucket. We are told about his background, mostly accurate except for his commission being purchased by his father (pretty tough to pry money out of the hands of a corpse, Jimmy), plus a mention of the Spread Eagle Tavern incident that pits Tarleton against "General Francis Lighthouse Lee." That's a glitch that may well be corrected in the final copy (I read an uncorrected proof). Or at least the "Lighthouse" will be corrected -- but chances are that Declaration signer Francis Lee will still be mistaken for his spryer brother. Still, it's irresistible to think of ol' Lighthouse standing at the tavern window holding aloft a torch...

Tarleton is treated as historical background, not as character, dashing around the Carolinas wreaking havoc and failing to restrain his men (blah blah blah). At least the "Butcher" and "Bloody Ban" epithets are not repeated. "An expert on promulgating news of his exploits, Tarleton was soon known among the British and Americans, based on [sic] his daring adventures, his intrepid leadership in battle, his surprisingly rapid and sustained movements, and the brutality with which he permitted his dragoons to treat adversaries..." But not for his personality, courtly manners or high spirits or anything resembling a character trait.

As a historical narrative, The Hornet's Nest is standard boilerplate, without style or sparkle. As a novel, it sinks like a rock. RevWar buffs should definitely save their money or wait for the remainder bin, where this book is headed with record speed.