He would be a symbol of power, grace, and tragedy-but before he was JFK, he was sickly and scrappy, troubled and charming; he was a boy called Jack. To Jack, it seemed as if his brother Joe, not quite two years older, would always triumph-in school, on the playing field, in his father's affections. Jack was the sloppy second son, the witty, disorganized dreamer who could never seem to stay well long enough to muster his talents-a risky failing in the success-driven Kennedy family. Young readers cannot help but be fascinated by this sympathetic portrait of a complex youth who, as he struggled with the pressures of father-son dynamics and the shadow of ill health, discovered within himself an intensity for living and a profoundly ironic humor.