Books Completed Since June 1

 The Splendid and the Vile, Erik Larson
I don't think I've read an Eric Larson book I didn't like, even if Devil in the White City was supremely creepy and I don't believe I'll be reading it again. This is one of those books I dived into and didn't come up until I was finished. It begins in May 1940, when King George VI requested Winston Churchill to start a new government and ends with the United States' entry into World War II, since Churchill realized early that Great Britain could not stand against the juggernaut German war machine and if the Nazis decided to invade, they would indeed "fight them on the beachheads, etc." but in the end would lose.

It's also a splendid portrait of Winston Churchill, warts and all, at his most resolute, and his family (including his disappointingly drunken and dissolute son Randolph, who was even disliked by his mother), and of a Britain mobilized into its now-classic "Keep Calm and Carry On" response. We're taken into 10 Downing Street, Chartwell (Churchill's "weekend home" in Aylesbury that became a second planning center), the bombed London streets, the crowded and dirty Tube shelters, Lord Beaverbrook's fruitless attempts to resign, and even into the plans of Rudolf Hess involving a trip over the English Channel.

As always Larson intertwines events, personalities, and places with absorbing ease. Loved this book—can't you tell? (This would be a good book to read along with the new Agents of Influence, about William Stephenson and the pro-British propaganda movement in the 1930s United States.)

 The National Review Treasury of Classic Children's Literature, Volume 2, selected by William F. Buckley
This is the second of two volumes where the short stories were chiefly taken from "St. Nicholas" Magazine, and, seeing that I have this "St. Nicholas" fixation, it had to become part of the household. (Three stories exactly are from other magazines, including Ellis Parker Butler's hilarious "Pigs is Pigs," and the complete Tom Sawyer, Detective, which, unlike Tom Sawyer Abroad, at least as a beginning, a middle, and an end.)

Like in the first volume, Buckley seems a bit too fond of the fairy tales (sorry, not a fan of Burnett's "Queen Crosspatch"), but there's a fine assortment of other tales, including two selections from The Jungle Book/The Second Jungle Book, "Another Chance" about a girl given a chance to go to a toney school who almost ruins herself by getting in with a wealthy crowd, the medieval adventure The Boy and the Baron, Jack London's "Cruise of the Dazzler," and, probably my favorite in the volume, L. Frank Baum's "Aunt Phroney's Boy," about a wealthy young man whose automobile is stranded outside a country farm where an elderly woman waits for her husband to come home from the local fair (her thrifty husband explaining to her that it's "too expensive" for her to go). It's heartwarming and funny all at once. 

 Four Funerals and Maybe a Wedding, Rhys Bowen
It's finally going to happen: Lady Georgiana Rannoch now has no obstacles in her way to marry dashing spy Darcy O'Mara, but as always with Georgie, there are problems to overcome. Her wedding's been turned into a larger affair, she's having problems communicating her ideas for a wedding dress to her best friend Belinda, and, worst of all, when Georgie and Darcy go residence-hunting, their meager incomes mean they'll be living in one-room walkups with insect infestations and mold. Plus Georgie's worried that her mother's intended German spouse is getting too pally with the Nazis.

Luckily Georgie's godfather (and first stepfather) Sir Hubert Anstruther comes to the rescue. Since Anstruther, an avid explorer, uses his estate Eynsleigh so little, he's willed it to Georgie, and wants her to set up housekeeping there; he only asks she leave him a few rooms in one wing to live in when he occasionally visits home. Georgie is delighted and heads to Eynsleigh to start prepping the house for her married life, only to discover the familiar butler and old staff are gone, to be replaced by a lazy, sullen butler, a chef who can't cook, a snooty maid, and two lazy gardeners. Plus, Plunkett the butler tells her Sir Hubert's elderly mother lives in one of the wings and is quite mad. Not able to contact with her godfather, who's on one of his exploring treks, Georgie tries her best to cope with the lazy servants, and soon realizes something is "really wrong in the state of Denmark."

Enjoyable as always, although Georgie seemed slightly naive about the servants. Would love to see Sir Hubert in another book, and glad Georgie's mother has taken a new tack.

 Re-read: The Andromeda Strain, Michael Crichton
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...okay, not that far. It's 1971. There's a new film at Garden City Cinema for Memorial Day: a scientific thriller called The Andromeda Strain. My best friend and I see this together. And boy, do we fall. Hard. We go see it again, although both our practical fathers are aghast at the idea of paying to see a film for a second time! A month or so later, I manage to see it a third time when I inveigle my parents with "But you haven't seen it!" When it played on NBC Saturday Night at the Movies some years later, I audiotaped it. And, of course, the moment we got out of the theatre the first time, I bought the book.

In The Andromeda Strain, a space satellite lands in an obscure corner of Arizona and kills all but two people in a tiny town: an elderly man and a small baby. These two survivors are brought to an underground lab in Nevada where scientists prepared for a biological crisis try not only to categorize and explain this new, deadly germ, but try to figure out what it was about the man and the baby that kept them alive.

Crichton fooled many a reader by almost making them think this (or a version of this) had really happened by citing scientific papers, referring to sober-sounding Government projects and teams, using known or realistic technology in the diagnosis—in short, making this like a memoir instead of like a standard thriller. There's no real fancy technology, explosions, or gore, just a realistic narrative about the relentless repetition of tests enable scientists to solve the mystery of a deadly disease. Action fans will certainly find it dull; I still find it absorbing and utterly realistic, if not terrifying. Still one of Crichton's best, despite the dating, since it's firmly grounded in its era and "could have happened."

 The Andromeda Evolution, Daniel N. Wilson
One of the differences between The Andromeda Strain the film and Andromeda Strain the book was in the film they actually kill the virus at the end; in the book it mutates into a non-infectious form and they let it be. That decision comes back to bite them in the butt in this recent sequel to the classic novel: something dark and sinister is starting to grow in the midst of the Amazon rain forest. And nothing seems to stop its progress. Luckily Project Eternal Vigilance has never forgotten Andromeda, and when word comes, a new Project Wildfire team is assembled to investigate the Amazon growth: an Indian doctor, an African scientist, a Chinese pathologist, an American astronaut/scientist monitoring the situation from the International Space Station, and a last minute replacement, the son of one of the original Project Wildfire scientists, James Stone, son of Jeremy Stone.

The original novel was a taut, quiet thriller taking place in a laboratory. This story is what happens when you take the original story and graft on a half-dozen other Crichton ideas, including Sphere and Jurassic Park, add duplicitous military men, an Amazon native tribe, a "space elevator," and a woman who has a genius mind but whose physical problems really should have a deterrent to her being assigned to the Space Station in the first place. Elements of horror films creep in everywhere, whether in the jungle, in the installation in the midst of said jungle, and up on the space station. People get swallowed up, native Amazonians get massacred, and the space station sequences have elements of Alien and Doctor Who's "The Ark in Space." The result is a mess, and the only reason I kept reading was because I wanted to see what happened to James Stone. The most interesting thing in the story is the one other link it has to the original novel, which made did make me smile.

 Game of Dog Bones, Laurien Berenson
Margaret Turnbull, Melanie Travis' renown and often annoying aunt, had been awarded the dog world's ultimate accolade: she's been chosen as a group judge at the Westminster Kennel Club dog show. Melanie accompanies Aunt Peg to New York City as assistant and companion, and must literally fend off an old "frenemy" of Peg's on the way to the hotel: Victor Durbin, whose questionable breeding methods and involvement in a dog café venue for adoptions have made him persona non grata with many people, but especially Aunt Peg, so when he turns up murdered Peg is the prime suspect. Naturally, Melanie throws herself into the investigation.

The mystery itself involves something in the news a lot these days and is suitably complicated for a cozy. The real strength with this book, the 25th in a series, is in the details: behind the scenes at august Westminster, Melanie's teaming with her sister-in-law Bertie, and the approaching wedding of flamboyant Terry and conservative Crawford (something happens at the wedding that made me cry). Davey continues with showing his poodle Augie, and of course there's kindergartener Kevin for comic relief.

By the way, I agree with another reviewer that we'd love to see Sam involved in a mystery!

 A Question of Betrayal, Anne Perry
This is the second in Perry's newest series set in pre-World War II England and Germany, featuring Elena Standish, talented photographer and daughter of a former ambassador to Germany. In the first volume of the series, Elena discovered her beloved grandfather was the former head of MI.6, Great Britain's international spy network, and she had successfully completed an errand that sent her to Berlin and put her in great danger. In this outing, Elena has an even more difficult mission: extricate her former love Aiden Strother, a man who revealed himself as a traitor to the country and got her fired from her job at the British Embassy, from Italy, since it turns out he was a double agent all along. The man who customarily passed Aiden's reports to England has not been heard from in weeks and it may be that Strother, too, is in danger. Can Elena get him out of Italy while putting aside her personal feelings?

In a subplot, Elena's older sister Margot goes to Berlin to attend the wedding of a dear childhood friend, who she realizes is marrying a heartless member of the Gestapo. Margot wonders: is her friend just too besotted with love to understand the hate within the man, or is there something more sinister going on?

I probably would have been better off reading the previous book first so I would know the particulars about her grandfather and how losing her job affected her and her family, but this can be read pretty much stand-alone if you don't mind being missing some background information. There's the distinct Perry touch of two capable women surviving in hostile environments, detailed descriptions of the ladies' fashions at the time, and welcome detail to 1930s life, and there's a tense plot right until the very end. The buried sinister machinations under German bonhomie is especially well done, making for uneasiness in many chapters. However, I don't find I like Elena or Margot as well as her two other leads, Charlotte Ellison Pitt and Hester Latterly Monk; the sisters don't seem to have the depth that either of Perry's Victorian protagonists have.

 How Did It Begin?: The Origins of Our Curious Customs and Superstitions, Dr. R. & L. Brasch
This is an Australian-published (since much of it is Anglo-Australian in focus) book of trivia that I picked up ages ago on a remainder table and have read in a desultory fashion for literally years now. Interesting facts about customs surrounding death, birth, courtship, drinking customs, homes, sports and other pastimes, religion, time, etc..Basically this is what I call "a bathroom book," something kept in the john to read during, as Frank Gilbreth called it, "unavoidable delay." Not true how much of these facts are true, as some of the word etymologies are iffy, but some trivia for your entertainment.

 Tunnel in the Sky, Robert A. Heinlein
This is a Heinlein juvenile I had never read, and when a friend said she was reading it, I decided to try it as well. I have heard it described as Lord of the Flies-like, but it really isn't.

Rod Walker lives on a future Earth threatened with overpopulation and starvation. Luckily a scientist has invented a device that can teleport humans—the titular "tunnel in the sky"—to other planets to colonize. Rod dreams of being one of these colonists, and, in his final year of high school, he takes an elective "survival course," the final exam which is being teleported to an uninhabited planet to survive for a week before being retrieved; the choice of survival equipment taken is the student's. His older sister Helen gives him good advice on what to take, and he is able to survive the anticipated test period, even after most of his gear is stolen. But retrieval back to Earth doesn't come, and Rod finally partners with a friend from school and another student from a different school. When they become resigned to the fact that retrieval may never come, Rod and his friends find other students, both good and bad, and start building their own civilization.

It's a fascinating portrait of how villages begin and how teamwork provides survival, and also how the lazy or callous can erode the group's safety. The story works because Rod isn't a model teen—he doesn't want to play politics, but leaves that to another young man, only to find that costs and causes problems—and that things can go wrong simply from underestimating the local flora and fauna. It is very anti-Lord of the Flies because, despite problems from a few students who refuse to cooperate, the students do manage to found a thriving community instead of descending into barbarity.

When Heinlein wrote this book, he refused to use stereotypes to delineate his characters, and intended that his protagonist be a person of color. Although other POC are featured in the story, most notably Caroline, who is of Zulu heritage, his publishers in the 1950s were extremely reluctant to have a lead character who was black. Since then publishers have portrayed Rod as white (and even blond) on covers over the years. However, this book is notable for a 1950s book in that its lead character is black, and refreshingly non-stereotyped compared to most 1950s efforts. Old-fashioned (the colonists usually go to new planets in covered wagons drawn by horses or oxen, or riding horses), but food for thought.

 The Happy Hollisters at Lizard Cove, Jerry West
A shipment of pineapples and the tiny iguana that stows away in it send the Hollister kids (12-year-old Pete; 10-year-old Pam; Ricky, age 7; Holly, age 6; and 4-year-old Sue) and their parents on not only a wonderful vacation but an interesting mystery in this entry in the series. Mrs. Hollister discovers the sender of the pineapples is an old school chum who married a doctor in Puerto Rico, and that she is in town with her two children, Carlos and Maya. The Villamils persuade the Hollisters to spend the week at their home at Lizard Cove, where the kids return "Lucky" the iguana to his native land, play in the surf, and explore. They discover an old stone with carving on it, and discover it may lead to a stolen Spanish relic. In the course of the story, they also help a boy named Manuel, who attends the local school for the blind, recover his stolen guitar, a memento from his grandfather. Would you be surprised to know that the stolen guitar and the two men trying to steal the stone the kids find are connected? Probably not, because this is a Happy Hollisters mystery after all.

This is part mystery and part travelogue, as the kids learn some Spanish and visit historical sites, plus learn what an infanta is (it's the 1950s, so Columbus is still treated in a positive way—time for a learning moment). Joey Brill, of course, mutters about "foreigners" when Carlos and Maya visit the Hollister kids' school, and gets set straight about them being Americans by one of their classmates, so apparently 1950s kids knew what a lot of modern adults don't understand. Contains a few 1950s gender-role stereotypes, but, again, all the kids go on the hunt for the thieves, not just the boys, and the girls are just as clever as the boys at picking up on clues.

 Mousse and Murder, Elizabeth Logan
I tend to pick up my cozies by location—I admit, I favor New England-set ones, and ones not in warm places—and when I saw this was set in Alaska, I thought I might get a softer, gentler Sue Henry-like mystery story. Alas, not to be. Our heroine is Charlie (short for Charlotte) Cooke, who switched from law school to culinary school in San Francisco, and has been running the town diner The Bear Claw, since Mom retired to travel with her father, who teaches international seminars. So, protagonist now back in small town (Elkview, Alaska, near Denali National Park) after fiancee ran off with co-worker. Check. How about the rest of the stock cozy conventions? Cute pet? Check, an orange tabby cat named Eggs Benedict, Benny for short. Romance with cute guy? Check, newspaper reporter. (At least the romance is not with the town police officer, as in so many of these.) Best friend who runs local business? Check, Annie, who runs local, family-founded inn. Things that designate the location? Lots of snow, cold weather gear, tourists, and moose, alive and in the stew and meatloaf served at the diner.

Anyway, Bear Claw head chef, temperamental Oliver Whitestone, has an argument with Charlie over trying something new on the menu, and walks out in a tiff. Next thing they know, he's dead, and it's murder. In a little bit of a twist, since Elkview has a tiny police presence (one state trooper, his wife, and his deputy), newspaperman Chris and Charlie are actually deputized to help with the murder investigation (usually the characters investigate on their own). No dangerous stuff, just research and interviewing some family and friends. What time Charlie doesn't spend running the diner and going off sleuthing with Chris (who loves her car with the heated steering wheel), she spends using the "Bennycam" she has in her house to interact with the cat. (If all the Bennycam stuff was deleted, the book would be about twenty pages shorter.)

There's an iffy character from day one, once a clue shows up about halfway through the book you know who the bad guy is, Chris and Charlie actually go in Oliver's house and remove stuff without a warrant figuring it's okay because they're deputies, everyone else in the diner loves working there and will take over at a moment's notice when Charlie goes off sleuthing, and, goodness, she's obsessed with that cat. As far as I can tell, no Native Alaskans live in Elkview or go to Charlie's diner (unless assistant chef Victor and his sister are natives; they are described as dark haired).

 Re-read: Life is a Banquet, Rosalind Russell, with Chris Chase
My mom picked this out of the book club back when it was published; at that point I had only seen Rosalind Russell in The Trouble With Angels, and knew only that she was a classic film star. But the first pages of the book looked so interesting I was drawn into it. Now it's one of my comfort reads; after you watch a few Russell films (for me, I cannot resist stopping and watching Auntie Mame any time I see it running, and love His Girl Friday and The Women) you can hear "Roz" talking to you as you read this book, starting with her active life with her siblings and parents in Waterbury, Connecticut, and the wonderful adventures she had with her Mame-like sister nicknamed "the Duchess." It is the greatest charm of the book, that it feels like she is sitting there telling you her life story. She covers her career and her personal life in a delightful, honest style, admitting when she made downright boners like acting snooty about parts or turning down lucrative ones, and she downplays a lot of her own personal tragedies, like having a nervous breakdown and the illnesses she contracted later in life (she became a spokesperson for people with arthritis and pretty much ruined the rest of her career because no one wanted to hire a women with arthritis). She talks about meeting the famous, but also wonderful stories about people she thought were courageous, like Colonel Hans Adamson and Sister Kenny (Russell played this Australian nurse who challenged the standard treatment of polio patients in a film). She talks so lovingly about her husband (they were married for thirty-five years) and her only son that I wish I could have met all of them, and you get some different views of celebrities like Cary Grant and Frank Sinatra.

 The Annotated Black Beauty, Anna Sewell, introductions/annotations by Ellen B. Wells and Anne Grimshaw
I love annotated books. Some friends of mine were thinning out their library on New Year's Eve (boy, if I known then what I know now...) and this is the book I found to take home with me. I have loved it since I was young and had the Whitman edition.

Though thousands think of this as "a children's book," it was definitely not written for children, but as a tract by the Quaker Anna Sewell, who loved all animals, but horses most of all; lame most of her life, she depended on them to get around to have any sort of life outside the home, and was cruelly grieved when she saw them mistreated. So she wrote the story of Black Beauty, the finely-bred colt brought up on a gentle farm and at first owned by the kind Gordon family, where he makes friends with the other horses, including the formerly mistreated Ginger and the pony Merrylegs. Alas, Mrs. Gordon takes ill, and there Black Beauty's perfect life goes astray, as the mistress of his new household believes in the cruel "bearing rein." As his fortunes ebb and flow, going from high-stepping carriage horse to livery horse to cab horse, Sewell talks about the sometimes brutal life horses lead.

The annotated edition adds so much information to the story; besides explaining now archaic terms and horse-care facts that would have been normal back then, the book is full of illustrations from just some of the numerous editions of the book, and indeed the illustrations of the terrible "bearing rein" (here in the U.S. called a "checkrein") make it horrifyingly obvious what horses rigged out in this cruel item suffered.

 A Christmas Resolution, Anne Perry
Celia Darwin, who lost her cousin Kate to murder in the William Monk mystery Dark Tide, has married John Hooper, Monk's current assistant at the Thames River Police. Celia is looking forward to their first Christmas together until she finds out her closest friend Clementine Appleby is marrying Seth Marlowe, a new member of her church and the Reverend Arthur Roberson's former brother-in-law. Roberson is a shy, retiring man who preaches forgiveness while his brother-in-law is an unyielding, judgmental being who still has not forgiven Celia for perjuring herself at the murder trial, even though the court gave her clemency for her decision, and forbids Celia to speak to Clementine except for "matters of housekeeping and motherhood." Clementine believes her gentle love will change him, but Celia finds out Marlowe's wife, "a strumpet," he called her, committed suicide and his daughter ran away from home. Was it true? Were Marlowe's wife and child so deceitful that it's understandable that he's bitter? Or must further investigation be done so that Clementine does not suffer the same fate?

A thoughtful story and within the theme of Christmas about forgiveness—but about how with forgiveness must come acceptance that truths must be faced and corrected. This isn't my favorite of the Christmas mysteries—that's A Christmas Promise with Gracie Phipps—but Celia and John are fine characters I'd love to know and I appreciate the love Celia has for her friend that she dares Marlowe's wrath to assure Clementine is happy.

 Tea & Treachery, Vicki Delany
Another advanced reader copy here, from NetGalley, the first in Delaney's Tea by the Sea mysteries set on Cape Cod. Lily Roberts is happy working in her new tea shop set on the shores of the Cape, in a converted gatehouse next to the Victorian bed and breakfast run by her grandmother Rose, a transplanted Englishwoman with an independent streak a mile wide. Lily helps make breakfasts at grandma's B&B in the mornings and then runs the tea shop in the afternoon, a stretch of kitchen work that makes me faint just to think about it. Next to Rose's property is another Victorian seaside home and property, this one crumbling and overgrown, and a local land developer wants to buy the property to set up a humongous hotel/golf course/resort that will, of course, destroy the tranquility of both the tea shop and the B&B.

And then the land developer meets his death falling off the sea wall near Rose's property. And of course the stupid chief of police suspects that this feisty, but 80+ year-old woman is the main suspect, although his new assistant from Boston doesn't.

I admit, I picked this to read because takes place "just up the road apiece" from my old home town. And yep, this one hits all the cozy cliches: talented protagonist who moved back home from the big city because her boyfriend was a louse; her quirky best friend Bernadette (call her "Bernie") who's a writer in search of a subject (and cute guys), a tea shop and a B&B with cute names, the standard stupid police officer who couldn't find a black cat on a snow field, a cute pet with a cute name (this one's a labradoodle named "Eclair"), the by-now requisite cute guy (the gardener, who—amazing!—also has baking experience so he can help Lily). And then there's Grandma Rose. I liked her the first few chapters and then finished the book being totally annoyed by her selfish, self-serving ways. It's not bad enough Lily works like a dog cooking breakfast and then making teas—Rose is "do this, check out that, make sure of this..." How annoying can you get?

The mystery was adequate, but Grandma Rose got on my nerves.

 Accidental Presidents: Eight Men Who Changed America, Jared Cohen
Eight men stepped from Vice President of the United States to the office of Presidency upon the death of their predecessor: John Tyler, Millard Fillmore, Andrew Johnson, Chester Arthur, Theodore Roosevelt, Calvin Coolidge, Harry Truman, and Lyndon Johnson. These are their succession stories.

This is a dense book, but the author does well in keeping the pace going even if the political machinations do get a bit deep at times. We discover that when John Tyler took over after William Henry Harrison's brief one-month tenure, there was not even a vehicle in place should the President be unable to serve. Much of Congress, who hated Tyler, thought the succession should go to the Speaker of the House or to someone in the Cabinet. Andrew Johnson, who was a Southerner who did not believe in slavery, changed his tune completely under power and completely sealed his fate. "Silent Cal" was so silent he was a "sea change" from Warren Harding; Theodore Roosevelt was, alternatively, so well known for being a maverick that Congress viewed with horror "that cowboy" becoming President. Chester Arthur was a product of machine politics, the complete opposite from the almost saintly James Garfield. Harry Truman was at the time of his succession so obscure no one knew what to expect, and he turned out to be a powerhouse. Lyndon Johnson, crude and bombastic, spent his presidency juggling the Vietnam war and the leftover remnants of the Kennedy White House. He lost such prestige over Vietnam that he really did not get to further work on what should have been the standout of his career: the Civil Rights Act. And really, how many books actually talk about Millard Fillmore? (Really, there should be a book out about "the unremembered Presidents" like Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, Martin Van Buren, and Rutherford Hayes.)

The final chapter talks about Gerald Ford and things that didn't come to pass, either because the miscreant was caught (an attempt on George W. Bush) or because modern medicine saved the day, i.e. Ronald Reagan.

I enjoyed this volume about a little-known subject.

 Life Among the Savages/Raising Demons, Shirley Jackson
One of the short stories I remember from my school readers over the years was the tale of "Charles," the story of a small boy named Laurie who goes to kindergarten and comes home with hair-raising stories about a schoolmate named Charles who does everything against the rules. This story is taken from Jackson's wry domestic columns in "Women's Day" and other magazines about raising four children in a rambling old house in Vermont while carrying on with her writing (including the disturbing The Haunting of Hill House and the startling short story "The Lottery," which "The New Yorker" reports was the feature that garnered the venerable magazine the most letters). Childish obsessions, frozen car radiators, missing boots, overflowing books, and the antics of Laurie, Jannie, Sally, and Barry fill the pages with eye-rolling exasperation and shaken-head laughter as Jackson juggles kids, home, professor husband, and her own errands against rain, snow, and neighbors who are either helpful or think them strange. (Jackson once said "The Lottery" was written as a small revenge at certain narrow-minded townspeople.) In the second book baby Barry comes into his own and they move to another home with a crooked gatepost, which obsesses almost everyone.

Amusing commentary on keeping house, working as a writer, and raising a high-energy brood in the 1950s.

 The Happy Hollisters and the Scarecrow Mystery, Jerry West
In this fourteenth book in the series, when John Hollister's store "The Trading Post" is robbed, he's afraid the thieves have made off with his new creation, a lightweight collapsible canoe, but axes and geiger counters were stolen instead. When another businessman wishes to invest in the canoe, he suggests Mr. Hollister test out the canoe at Fox Lake, and camp on his lakeside property. In fact, Fox Lake has been in the news because there are rumors that uranium has been found there.

You've got this now, right? Yep, John and Elaine Hollister and the kids, 12-year-old Pete; 10-year-old Pam; Ricky, age 7; Holly, age 6; and 4-year-old Sue, plus Zip the collie dog, are off to camp, swim, and canoe—and are warned off the moment they arrive by a tricked-up "talking" scarecrow. Nevertheless, they persevere, and good thing they brought along Zip, because they are further threatened with notes, have their tires and camping gear and supplies stolen, and even approached by a frightened boy who pleads with them to get out of there. Plus there's wildlife, swimming, and lots of lessons in hiking survival, like blazing trails. (At one point Pam gets praised for not doing something that will later help corral a bad guy.) Does it surprise you that geiger counters are involved? Not me.

Ah, well, in this one the guys are the ones to test out the canoe in the rapids (although Pete and Pam do it together on the lake first) while all the girls do is do a clambake with beans, taught to them by the untidy older man who asks them to call him "Scarecrow." However, Pam does get the first few outings in the canoe, adorable Sue does discover two clues to the mystery, and Holly, already an expert swimmer at six, discovers where the bad guys have hidden the Hollister tires.

There's never a dull moment in this one!

Books Completed Since August 1

 The Epic Book of Top 10 Lists, Jamie Frater
What can I say? I love books of lists. Yeah, some of the lists in this book are rubbishy things about celebrities, and there's true crime, conspiracy theories, and "woo-woo" lists galore. But mixed in are lists about history, geography, literature and writers, linguistics, science, urban myths and sociology. It's a perfect bathroom book, and now that I've finished it, there it shall stay.

 The Lure of the Moonflower, Lauren Willig
Wayyyyyyy back when twelve books in the Pink Carnation saga apparently were only a dream in Ms. Willig's head, Penelope Devereaux, after a bad marriage to a lout, found true love with an adventurer named Alex Reid. At the end of their story Alex's brother Jack, a brash soldier of fortune, made a brief appearance. "That," I announced to no one in particular as the room was empty save for me and the book, "is who the Pink Carnation will end up with."

And for once I was right.

In December 1807 Jack Reid finds himself in Portugal, assigned to help his new contact protect Queen Maria, "the mad queen of Portugal," from being captured by the French. He's dismayed to discover that not only is his contact a woman, but it's none other than the woman, the famous Pink Carnation who managed to thwart revolutionary plans and then Napoleonic excesses with superb management of a spy network. But now the Carnation, in the person of Miss Jane Wooliston, has gone rogue, teamed up with the biggest rogue of all.

It's a tense romp across Portugal, with Jane pursued by an old lover and enemy, the Gardener, parrying and thrusting with each other (and arguing what to name a ragtag donkey) in a fragile romance that may come to disaster at any moment, in the style of Raiders of the Lost Ark and other romantic adventures. In the meanwhile, Eloise and Colin's framing tale comes full circle, with a Selwick secret finally revealed.

Sad it's all over, but happy it ended so well for the inimitable Pink Carnation.

 The Oregon Trail, Rinker Buck
I saw this book at Barnes & Noble the week it was released and was immediately intrigued by the concept: a man who has a genuine pioneer wagon built and then buys three mules and drives them along as much of the old Oregon Trail as is possible with his brother along as a partner. I dived in immediately, happily enjoying its mix of memoir, soul-searching, and history (the history of mules in the US, of westward expansion, of wagon making, etc.) until I reached page 95, where the author mentioned his father by his full name, Tom Buck. Holy smokes! Suddenly I realized I know this guy! Well, not in person, but in the 1960s Tom Buck wrote a humorous book called But Daddy! about his multiple-child Catholic family. It was one of my favorite books in the Hugh B. Bain library and I later found a copy at a used book store. He wrote about Rinker and Nick and all the kids, including little Ferry who was forgotten sitting on her potty seat. And now here I was reading Rinker's book.

And I had a blast, seriously, especially the historical asides and the chronicle of the trip, the stories of the people they met, and the relationship between Rinker and his brother Nick, a craftsman and independent artisian. I was also interested to learn the other side of Tom Buck, the genial "Daddy" of the book that made growing up in a big family look like so much fun, and of Rinker trying to resolve his personal issues with his father. I'd say this is a perfect choice if you are a history buff, but please be advised the language is very salty.

 A Letter of Mary, Laurie R. King
I have a confession to make: I do not review the e-books that I read. So if you are surprised to see a Mary Russell book here when I've never mentioned reading any before, it's not because I began in the midst of the series, but because I've already read the first two books that came before. I actually read The Beekeeper's Apprentice several years back and didn't like it, then came back to it last year and finished and enjoyed it, going on to the second. However, I had picked up this third in the series "dead tree version" at the book sale. If you aren't familiar with this series, it is based on the premise that, in his 50s, Sherlock Holmes retired to the Sussex Downs to keep bees (as Conan Doyle stated) and met a bright, American-bred teen of British/Jewish ancestry living a miserable life with her adoptive aunt. He senses her quick mind and takes her on as an apprentice. After she comes into her majority, they are married, but have an unconventional relationship where he still sleuths on the side and she reads theology at Oxford.

In this outing, amateur archaeologist Dorothy Ruskin turns up on the Holmes/Russell doorstep with an astonishing find: a roll of papyrus that states that Mary Magdalene was a disciple of Jesus. Later Ruskin is killed; the pair soon discover it was murder. Was the murder due to the papyrus? After their home is "tossed," Holmes and Russell come to believe it is so. While Russell investigates one suspect, Holmes tackles another.

I have to admit my favorite part of this story is begins eight pages into chapter seventeen where Mary runs into a young English lord who you may recognize if you are a devotee of Dorothy L. Sayers. But I did enjoy the mystery, if the "letter of Mary" actually got short shrift (maybe it will come up in a later book), and am already reading the fourth book, The Moor.

 The Lexicographer's Dilemma, Jack Lynch
Imagine English with no grammar regulations and spelling rules!

Once upon a time, that's the way English was. Each region in England had its own spellings for words. Even kings and scribes frequently spelled the same word different ways. Shakespeare, in fact, couldn't seem to decide on how his own name was spelled. He had signed himself Shakespear, Shakspear, and other permutations. Then writers like John Dryden began concentrating on another classical language, Latin, and noticed that English did not conform to the same rules of this impeccable grammar; in fact it had no strict rules at all!—and he though it should. Soon Jonathan Swift wanted an English academy where proper forms would be taught and chronicled. As the years passed, more rules were created.

This is a smartly written, understandable and lively chronicle about how grammar rules "got that way," from Dryden to Noah Webster all the way to protests against "Ebonics." Immensely readable, especially for English nerds.

 Sword Bound, Jennifer Roberson
It's been ten years since Roberson wrote what was supposed to be the final Tiger and Del novel, and I bought this book with both anticipation and fear, the former because I had loved the previous six books of the series and fear because in ten years I had changed: would I still like these characters?

I needn't have worried. Rejoining the Sandtiger and his lifemate Delilah was like visiting relatives; no time had changed them. Set two years after the close of the previous story, they now run a training center for sword dancers, that strictly-ritualized art of swordfighting that they both practice, and are raising a two-year-old daughter, while Neesha, Tiger's son from another relationship learns the trade. But he thinks their life has become boring. What about going out on an adventure? What about, Del suggests quietly without Neesha hearing, if they went to visit the boy's mother and stepfather on their horse farm?

What follows is an episodic (yet one building to a climax) adventure tale. Despite all their efforts at staying anonymous, Tiger is constantly challenged to a "dance," especially by youngsters trying to prove themselves, and along the way they are recruited to rescue the kidnapped son of a caliph and protect a caravan. But danger from an old enemy is approaching them, and when it happens, lives may be forfeit. Tiger's still the arrogant one who, nevertheless, never stops training or learning, Del is more the peacemaker who, nevertheless, can take you apart from the moment she lays hands on her sword. Neesha displays all the cocksureness of youth as the story opens, but ripens with disaster. Familiar characters appear, especially Tiger's temperamental horse with no name.

I fell right back into the stories and the situations. If you enjoyed Tiger and Del before, you probably will, too.

 Why? Because We Still Like You, Jennifer Armstrong
This is a nice hardbound history of The Mickey Mouse Club (the original, not the tiresome one with Britney Spears), and if you haven't read one before (there were several books about the Club released in the 1970s, when the series was re-syndicated to television), this is as good a place as any to start, since it's more up-to-date on the Mouseketeers' later lives. However, it takes a lot of its meat from the earlier books as well, so if you have those, you may be reading things you already knew.

One of the unique things about this book is that Armstrong devotes some time to the Mouseketeers that weren't in the public eye, like Mary Espinosa, who was the first Hispanic child involved in a television program, brothers John and Dallas Johann, and Don Agrati (later Don Grady), their problems, and how they felt being relegated to the White and Blue teams (the prestigious Red team, of course, were the kids like Annette, Bobby, Karen, and Cubby). There's also a chapter on the boys of the Club's most famous serial, "Spin and Marty."

Still, a lot of the volume seems padded, and the chapter "Life After Mousehood" and the appendix pretty much offer the same information. Still, for a basic history of The Mickey Mouse Club, this one is pretty good.

 Maryellen Larkin: The One and Only, Valerie Tripp
The newest American Girl, Maryellen, is growing up with five brothers and sisters, a stay-at-home mom, and working Dad. She lives in Florida, has two best friends named Karen, an aging dachshund named Scooter, and loves swimming, The Lone Ranger, and her buddy Davy next door. She's looking forward to fourth grade, and even makes a new friend there, an Italian girl. But her old best friends don't like Angela (I mean, weren't they our enemies during the war?), her friendship with Davy seems to cool, and her mom still seems to forever bunch her in with the little kids.

I'm ambivalent about Maryellen. She's at heart a good kid. But she seems over the top somehow. In the first half of the first book, she gets herself in dutch trying to paint the front door red when her Mom's old war plant friends visit. It's just such a dumb thing to do that it colors my whole opinion of her. She also seems very self-centered compared with the other American Girls. It's all about her, her, her and the attention she thinks she's not getting. Frankly, I like her oldest sister, Joan, whose upcoming wedding works into the plot, and even her musical sister Carolyn more than I like Maryellen. (Beverly, the little sister who likes ballet, is freaking annoying, even if she does teach Maryellen to skate.)

I guess what I'm really unhappy about is the new format of the books. Your American Girl used to get six books (albeit narrow ones) with color illustrations and little incidental illos in the text showing things that might be unfamiliar to modern girls, like a sadiron in the Addy books or a patten in the Felicity books), and then each book had a "Inside [Girl's Name] World" which talked about a topic addressed in the books (the Depression in Kit's books, the war effort in Molly's, etc.) with old photographs, drawings, and maps in six pages. Now the six books are two books, three stories in each book, with only two pages of historical info at the end, no illustrations at all.  It's disappointing and very cheap.

 Maryellen Larkin: Taking Off, Valerie Tripp
Many things happening in the second volume of Maryellen's adventures: the family gets a camper, Maryellen and her friends enter a science contest only to be pushed around by the sixth graders in their group, they go on vacation and their dog Scooter gets lost, Maryellen writes a play about the Salk vaccine to urge parents to vaccinate their kids, then pouts when no one wants to do it her way. Again, her self-centeredness really bugs me. Yeah, you are self-centered at ten, but on Maryellen it just seems annoying.

Positive points: the science project part which really gets rolling at the end of the book, and also Joan's wedding (and Joan finally communicating to her mother that Mom's wedding plans are not necessarily what she wants) and when Maryellen realizes that all her Mom's fears have come true on their camping trip. Plus Mr. Larkin isn't such a cardboard figure in this one. However, I can't believe they would team fourth graders up with sixth graders for a science project; grades were kept pretty much strictly segregated in those days. Also, every 1950s trope seems to be here, last book it was poodle skirts and the Lone Ranger, now it's Davy Crockett, campers, and the polio vaccine. Still miss the illos and the history.

 Sleepy Hollow: Children of the Revolution, Keith R.A. DeCandido
Ichabod Crane, convert to the American side in the Revolutionary War, was killed in battle by his former best friend, who became initiated into a fiendish cult, but not before he cut off the head of his now enemy. Over 200 years later, having been enscorcelled by his wife, who he was unaware was a witch, Ichabod comes back to life to help Lieutenant Abigail Mills, an African-American woman who is part of the Sleepy Hollow police force, defeat minions of evil. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are ready to rise and devour the earth.

If this sounds nothing like the Washington Irving story, well, it isn't. This is the basis of the television series Sleepy Hollow and of this novel based on the series. It's a quirky plot which actually works if you like a mixture of fable, fantasy, and horror as part of your weekly viewing diet.

In the novel, Ichabod's wife Katrina appears to him in a vision, begging him to find a medal he was awarded by George Washington. Trouble is, he died before he received it. Soon Ichabod and Abbie discover that medals identical to the ones Ichabod was awarded are being stolen from museums, and the guards killed in a particularly gruesome manner. It's up to Ichabod, Abbie, Abbie's sister Jenny, and their police captain Frank Irving to track down who's stealing the medals and why.

I like DeCandido's work and this isn't a bad Sleepy Hollow novel, but it seems to me there's not enough Ichabod in it to go around. Yeah, the series is an ensemble show, and I love that, but I just think Crane gets short shrift here. When he is involved, though, DeCandido gives him some great Ichabod-and-new-tech commentary, and the sequence in the Sleepy Hollow museum was so great I was sorry there wasn't such a place. Historical characters are also worked effortlessly and well into the plot, including a visit to Fort Ticonderoga, a place I've loved since my teens. Looking forward to the next Sleepy Hollow novel!

Books Finished Since March 1

 How Shakespeare Changed Everything, Stephen Marche
Well, really, he didn't; still, this is a lively small book about some of the major influences Shakespeare's plays have had upon our society: innovations in language, unique characters, even "modern" concepts such as racial equality—the opening chapter, about Paul Robeson's portrayal of Othello, presents an aspect of the play I had not heard of before—and teenage angst. Other chapters discuss aspects of the Bard I had read about previously (those who try to prove Shakespeare did not write the plays attributed to him, the fact that not much biographical information is known about the man, even one about the gentleman who released starlings in North America, determined that every bird mentioned in Shakespeare should be available to be seen in the United States—the starlings, of course, bred copiously and invaded native species' territories), and there was a short but interesting chapter the Booth family and the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.

This is not a book I would have gone out of my way to buy, nor is it remarkable, but it was enjoyable, easy reading, and might be a good text to spark a teen's interest in Shakespeare.

 Ten Second Staircase, Christopher Fowler
Once again, the Peculiar Crimes Unit, with its elderly senior officers, the eccentric and acerbic Arthur Bryant, and the still urbane John May, is threatened with extinction when their supervisor complains to his superiors about his difficulties reining in the offbeat group. In the meantime, an artist is murdered in her own display at an art museum, with a school group nearby, by a mysterious highwayman on a black horse, an improbable criminal seen by one of the students.

As always Fowler deals with much more than the mystery originally posed: May's agoraphobic granddaughter April is lured from her home to work with the Unit, Bryant becomes troubled by the emotional disassociation of the privileged as well as impoverished youths they encounter during their investigation, and the ghost of an old investigation is purposely called up, that of the Leicester Square Vampire, a killer who claimed the life of May's daughter (April's mother). The hows and whys of the plot kept me guessing until the end, and I found much amusement in realizing how much I agreed with some of Bryant's complaints about modern society! Captivating and absorbing.

 The Silver Guitar: A Julie Mystery, Kathryn Reiss
The Julie stories wig me out; it's impossible for me to think of my teenage years as now being "history." :-) In this outing, Julie participates in a fundraising project that will help birds and mammals harmed in an oil spill (a particularly timely topic) and meets a couple who collect priceless objects. They plan to auction some of these collectibles off to help the cause, including a genuine silver StratoCruiser guitar which belonged to a famous, deceased rock star. But when Julie's friend T.J. accidentally breaks the priceless instrument, the two kids discover that the guitar is fake.

While the mystery is fairly solid, the dialog in the Julie books always strikes me as being unnecessarily stiff. It sure doesn't sound like the 1970s I lived through. They also manage to mention deceased young rock stars without once mentioning drug overdoses, which I found intensely amusing. Another curious incident is T.J. being given the responsibility that gets him in trouble: the couple allows T.J. access to their house after meeting him once; it's a bit hard to swallow. This is not the best of the Julie mysteries, but much better than the first one.

 A Family Affair, Caro Peacock
Once again Benjamin Disraeli summons Miss Liberty Lane to provide discreet information into a perplexing event: influential Lord Brinkburn is dying, and, inexplicably, his formerly retiring wife has circulated the shocking information that their eldest son Stephen is not legitimate; she claims she accidentally had sexual congress with a stranger in a hotel room in Italy and he was the result. Their younger son Miles, her favorite of the two boys, is the actual heir. Liberty, with a young urchin named Tabby in tow to play as her maid, poses as an artist who wishes to paint and sketch in a cottage on the Blackburn estate. In this way she hopes to gain the confidence of Lady Brinkburn and perhaps find out the truth behind this fantastical statement.

This third Liberty Lane adventure starts off at a gallop during the re-creation of a joust held by bored young aristocrats and never slackens its pace. Bit by bit, Liberty peels back the layers of the Brinkburn family, to come to some astounding revelations and an action-filled conclusion to the story. Yes, Liberty's manner still seems too modern for an early Victorian-era young woman--in one sequence she's actually running around the countryside in a robe and her underwear, and seems not very nonplussed by the fact--but our plucky heroine, the narrative, the interesting supporting characters, and even the medieval re-creations by the indolent young lords all add up to an appealing mystery-adventure.

 Clue in the Castle Tower: A Samantha Mystery, Sarah Masters Buckey
Samantha and Nellie accompany the Admiral and Grandmary to England, where they are invited to the manor home of the Admiral's old friend, now guardian to his two mischievous grandsons. The lively boys seem nice enough, albeit being pranksters, so the girls decide to help when Henry and Ian are threatened with being sent back to their dreary boarding school after their grandfather suspects them of stealing valuable books.

Aside from the boys seeming a bit more American in their manners than English, this is a mildly interesting mystery. The Lady Florence character, however, seems just tossed into the story to show an independent British girl and add another suspect, and the tutor is rather colorless. The most interesting character is the maid who yearns for more education (although she reminded me a bit of Maisie Dobbs).

 Make Room for Danny, Danny Thomas with Bill Davidson
This is an easy-to-read, amiable autobiography of television star and nightclub performer Danny Thomas, who started off life as Amos Jacobs, the son of Lebanese immigrants. One of eight children, Thomas was actually raised by the aunt who cared for him while his mother was sick after childbirth and her husband. He was determined go to into the entertainment industry and eventually did, working hard and eventually getting some big breaks due to friends. Eventually he became known nationwide as the star of the highly popular sitcom Make Room for Daddy.

This book may not be everyone's cup of tea—Thomas doesn't "dish dirt" or relate sexual escapades. By today's standards it's pretty tame! But as a fan of Make Room for Daddy and Thomas' charity, St. Judes, I found it enjoyable.

 A Bundle of Trouble: A Rebecca Mystery, Kathryn Reiss
Rebecca's troubles are only beginning when she notices her brother Victor sneaking out at night. The same day a young couple and their small baby move into the Rubins' apartment building and Rebecca offers to care for the fretful infant away from the tumult of moving. She takes the child to the park, where she befriends an Italian girl taking care of her baby sister. But when she returns baby Nora, she fears the two babies have been switched—deliberately, as part of a kidnapping spree going on in New York City.

The historical details of this volume are much better than the previous Rebecca mystery. Reiss gives one a nice feel for how poor children lived and cared for younger siblings in 1914. For an adult, it will be obvious that one character must be the obvious suspect since that person has no other purpose in the story. Still, there are several mysteries working here at once, a definite improvement on the first story.

 The King's Speech; How One Man Saved the British Monarchy, Mark Logue and Peter Conradi
Albert Frederick Arthur George grew up as a shy prince in the shadow of his effervescent older brother, first in line to the throne of England. "Bertie," as he was known to family and friends, suffered from a debilitating stutter that made him the butt of classmates' jokes and caused instructors to think he was slow-witted. Lionel Logue was a talented public speaker from Australia who emigrated to England with his family and successfully treated people with speech disorders despite having no formal training.

In 1926, tired of criticism of his public speaking and desperate for a cure, the Prince contacts Logue for help. What he did for the prince was nothing short of a miracle; the treatment became a godsend when "Bertie" found himself king after his brother abdicated in favor of "the woman I love," and, not soon after, the country was plunged into World War II.

This book is at its best in the first two-thirds, as it chronicles the life of the man who would later be George VI as well as the Australian upbringing of Lionel Logue, followed by the prince's decision to seek Logue's help and how the therapist helped him. Revealed are the prince's bleak childhood, Logue's youth in pioneer Adelaide, and of the close friendship that sprang up between the men, as well as a portrait of England in the first half of the 20th century. If you saw the film, are a history buff, or were simply curious about the story, you will probably enjoy this book.

 The Mental Floss History of the United States, Erik Sass with Will Pearson and Magesh Hattikuduk
The Mental Floss folks hit the high points in this occasionally humorous overview of United States history, with summaries of each era ("State of the Union"), "Lies Your Teacher Told You" (actually misconceptions people have about US history, riffing on the van Loewen books), and sections like "Where My Gods At," "Other People's Stuff," "Trendspotting," etc. The authors try hard to stay impartial (especially near the end during the Red/Blue States controversies), and it's a nice, informative summary in digestible bites. In fact, there are some nice overviews of subjects many history books gloss over, such as indentured servitude, the ubiquitous colonial rum, Bacon's Rebellion, Lincoln's treatment of civil liberties, how Commodore Perry really "opened up" Japan to trade, and more, plus a tidy summary of presidents from Washington to Obama at the conclusion of the book. Super for history buffs!

 The Winter Garden Mystery, Carola Dunn
The Hon. Daisy Dalrymple, her family fortune just a memory due to her brother's death in the Great War, must instead write articles and take photographs for "Town and Country" magazine to earn her living. When an old school friend invites her to the family estate, Daisy is overjoyed to find a new article source. But the household is unsettled: autocratic Lady Valeria is quarreling with one of the inhabitants of the nearby village, her vague husband retreats to his model dairy at the least sign of conflict, tomboyish "Bobbie" (Daisy's chum) keeps disappearing, and something is obviously troubling breathtakingly handsome Sebastian, Bobbie's brother, and his crippled tutor, Ben.

It is when Daisy is being given a tour of the manor's famed Winter Garden that another apparent secret of the estate is revealed: the body of Grace Moss, a housemaid who disappeared, is buried under a dying shrub.

Again, while the Daisy mysteries have so far mentioned repercussions from the first World War, they are not the thoughtful, psychological tales of Anne Perry's or Jacqueline Winspear's postwar novels. Although the war deaths are not treated lightly, rather, it is the bright 1920s, with snappy slang, flappers, and bobbed hair inserted into an English country house mystery. These are quite enjoyable "cozies" with a heroine who knows her own mind, and supporting characters that will remind you of early Sayers or Woodhouse.

 Mother Was a Gunner's Mate, Josette Dermody Wingo
I found this at the library while I was there for a totally different reason (but isn't that always how it is?). It's the true story of Josette Dermody, "nice Catholic girl" from Detroit who joined the WAVES in 1944. She trains at Great Lakes and then is shipped to her duty station at Treasure Island near San Francisco to train naval Armed Guard antiaircraft gunners on the West Coast. Told in a delightfully brisk first person, Josette encounters sexist male compatriots, occasionally hostile female companions (one of her bunkmates is a deeply prejudiced Southern girl), not to mention the fears of her family at home (she never did get her father to understand why she joined up, a sore point with him) and her fears for her brother and ex-boyfriend overseas. Josette may not "see the world," but she certainly sees lives different from the world she grew up in, meeting German prisoners, Russian sailors, and the denizens of 1940s San Francisco. A must for anyone wanting to know about woman's contributions during World War II, or just wanting a good coming-of-age story.

 The Vertigo Years, Philipp Blom
The years from 1900-1914 are known by many names, including the Edwardian era (although George V came to the throne in 1910, those four years are usually considered to be a continuation of Edward's reign until the first World War began) and "the Gilded Age." It's usually considered a quiet time of fabulously wealthy aristocracy, complacent middle class, and appallingly hideous slum dwellers.

Don't believe it. Behind the post-Victorian "calm" was a world already boiling with social change—suffragettes, sexual tensions, young men and women gathering without chaperonage, the theories of eugenics, the collapse of aristocracy, the flowering of psychiatry, the protest against abuse of colonial tribes—and mechanical ones as well: the rise of the automobile, aviation, and other technological advances. For years doctors had insisted only women suffered from nervous problems due to the fact that they were female and subject to "hysteria"; now more and more men were appearing with "nervous complaints," harried by the clock and the rush of industrialization, feeling emasculated by intelligent women.

Year by year, Blom deals with a topic particular to that passage of time: the Paris exposition of 1900, X-rays and radioactivity in 1903, the Russo-Japanese war of 1905, the suffragette movement in 1908, the rise of leisure time by 1911, etc. I really enjoyed this book and all the different topics and personalities it addressed.

 Trio of Sorcery, Mercedes Lackey
There was no way I was going to miss this volume, after having read all the Diana Tregarde novels and existing short stories—not buy the book with the "long lost 'Arcanum 101'" in it? Lackey has talked about this story for years!

It's the first Tregarde story ever written, about Diana's first steps away from home and lodging at college, trying to balance study and sorcery. Along the line she gets an assignment from the police (discredit a fortune teller who's advising a woman whose little girl was kidnapped) and a "Scooby gang" comprising the students upstairs who become her first friends. There's some exposition for newcomers to the storyline which may be tedious to Tregarde fans, but it trots along at a good pace. The other two stories are "Drums," a short story based on the Native American characters in Lackey's novel Sacred Ground and an original tale, "Ghost in the Machine," about Ellen McBride, a "techno-shaman" who helps online game developers whose new "super-villian" is a lot more powerful than it should be. The Jennifer Talldeer story explores some interesting Native American legends, but the Ellen McBride story crackles with energy—I would definitely like to see more stories, or a book featuring McBride. Highly recommended for those of you, like me, who've been waiting for "Arcanum 101" for years, and the other two stories are welcome laginappe.

Books Finished Since February 1

 Intrigue, Mercedes Lackey
Mags, the wretched orphan rescued from mine work by being Chosen by the Companion Dallen, is progressing well at the new Collegium being built, but he still remains a solitary character with only a few strong friends: Bear, gifted with knowledge of herbs; Lena, a Bardic student desperately trying to do something outstanding so her talented but narcissistic father will notice her; and Amily, the handicapped daughter of the King's Own Herald, Nikolas. He is trusted enough to do little spying missions for Nikolas—until a group of Farseers have a vision of what seems to be an assassination attempt on the King with a "foreigner" involved, and Mags is the only "foreigner" in residence. And it's then that Mags' solitary life starts to work against him, as he is suspected by fellow students and courtiers alike, despite the fact he has become a star player in a new game invented to help the Heralds simulate battle situations.

I have been reading books about Valdemar since the first, Arrows of the Queen, was published. Mags' story still feels a bit like Talia's with some changes in it (if you remember, students bullied Talia as well, and even tried to drown her). This time everything conspires against our hero; even his best friends (granted, under great duress) desert him. Mags' situation just becomes worse and worse until he is driven to rock bottom; it is not an easy story to read (nor should it be, since he is under such stress, but it is a hard slog). Plus there is entirely too much time taken up with the Kirball games, which, as other critics have pointed out, bear a remarkable resemblance to Quidditch on horseback. Mags being good at the game makes him a few more real friends, ones who appreciate him for himself, not just his playing, but the descriptions of it get tedious fast, like reading an old-fashioned boys' sports book. I'm sure the training will serve Mags and his friends in some way in the final book of the trilogy, but for now the play-by-play is a tad tedious.

I would wait for the paperback on this one.

 The Sisters Grimm: Magic and Other Misdemeanors, Michael Buckley
In Buckley's delicious mish-mash universe of fairy tale characters of all persuasions, things are deteriorating at a rapid rate. Sabrina and Daphne Grimm's parents are still in an enchanted sleep, the murderous mayor of Ferryport Landing (the Queen of Hearts) has levied an enormous tax on the remaining human members of town and left the despicable Sheriff of Nottingham to enforce her laws, and someone is stealing magic items for an unknown purpose. How will Granny Relda find the objects and pay the tax?

The most intriguing thing in the story is a glimpse into a possible future due to time rips opening and closing within the town. A character who disappeared in a previous novel has returned and talks the sisters into helping look for the stolen objects; what the person has suggested sounds sensible, but is there something behind it? It will be interesting to know in future books if what the girls see is their actual future or just an alternative they may want to change.

 Murder on Waverly Place, Victoria Thompson
Sarah Brandt, midwife, has just recovered from finding out the truth of the murder of her physician husband, when her wealthy mother comes to her asking for help. Mrs. Decker has consulted a spiritualist in hope to contact her older daughter, Sarah's sister Maggie, who was driven away from home when her parents disapproved of her marriage, and who later died. Sarah disapproves, but goes with her mother in hopes of proving the spiritualist, an Italian girl, is a fraud. Instead, she is witness to a murder of another attendee.

This is a very talky entry in Thompson's "Gaslight Mystery" series. Frank Molloy, Sarah's love interest, is the investigating officer, and we learn a good deal about how spiritualists dupe their clients. A whopping coincidence helps solve the mystery, and there is no real progress in the Molloy/Brandt romance. The narrative was good enough to keep me reading, but the mystery is rather lukewarm.

 Napoleon's Hemorrhoids, Phil Mason
"And Other Small Events That Changed History"
This is a British-published trade paperback that will please any history lover who likes bits of trivia about historical situations. As the title explains, these are tiny bobbles in history that could have led to vastly different futures had they not happened. My only complaint on this book would be is that the sports chapter is totally unnecessary; who cares about results in sports? It's not like a differing result makes any difference in history. Really, forty years later, who cares about "the Heidi Bowl" except a few fans of the sports teams involved?

 The Ninth Daughter, Barbara Hamilton
Abigail Adams arrives at the home of Rebecca Malvern and knows immediately, frighteningly, that something is wrong. Rebecca, a woman who contributes to the causes of the Sons of Liberty, and who lives in poverty since being driven away from her wealthy husband by his jealous children, has vanished and another woman is murdered and horribly mutilated in her kitchen. Later the Sons of Liberty cover up the murder evidence because Rebecca knew too many secrets about them—and John Adams himself becomes one of the suspects in the murder. It is up to Abigail and British Lieutenant Coldstone to find the murderer and Rebecca—if the latter is still alive.

Despite some of the slightly improbable situations Abigail is involved in, including scoping out a strict religious colony with faithful Sergeant Muldoon, Hamilton brings daily life in Revolutionary-era Boston and the outlying towns of Massachusetts Bay come alive. Aspects of everyday living, politics, and religion are vividly portrayed. Hamilton's Boston is populated by characters both good and bad, some facing universal problems: people who marry into a family who resents her, spoiled children, abusive religious leaders, adults with problem parents. She creates British characters who are fully realized, not just two-dimensional enemies of those who seek a break with the British monarchy. Abigail is also an appealing protagonist who must juggle her investigations, her friendships, her household duties, and her role as wife and mother.

Please note that this book, while looking like a "cozy" because of its setting and protagonist, does contain some strong, unflinching scenes of violence.

 Looking for Anne, Irene Gammel
Have you ever enjoyed a literary character so much that you wondered how the author came up with the idea for him or her? Since Lucy Maud Montgomery is no longer around to ask, Irene Gammel has investigated the various aspects of Montgomery's life and environment that combined to become the immortal Anne Shirley, heroine of Anne of Green Gables. As with most characters, you will find that Anne is a combination of Montgomery's life experiences while reading something of the author's troubling and often lonely life; what you might not know is that the original image for Anne's "look" came from a notorious American girl whose name was soon plastered in newspapers across the country.

Some readers will find troubling the author's inferences to Montgomery's—and perhaps Anne's—sexuality. Anyone who reads Victorian and Edwardian books that contain strong girls' friendships will note that today these behaviors often indicate lesbianism: girls held hands, danced with each other, had crushes on older girls and gave them little love-tokens, etc. Maud herself had friendships like these as a girl and then refuted them in adulthood. Since being a lesbian was forbidden territory then, there is no way to know how many of these friendships were more than that. I did not mind nor did I find such suppositions a handicap when reading this book, and found the various origins that combined to make Anne a fascinating example of how an author combines bits of reality and fancy to create a character.

 Verily, Verily, Jon Sweeney
Two of the most quoted books in the English language are the King James version of the Holy Bible and the plays of William Shakespeare. In this small, appreciative volume, Sweeney recounts the history of the English-language Bible, starting from publishers who risked death to translate the standard Latin version into the vernacular: Wycliffe and Tyndale. When eventually it was published in English, the Geneva Bible held sway until James I required a Bible that would unite the English.

Sweeney also deals with unintended humor in the KJV, how renown authors used it in their works, immortal verses and apt proverbs, and the role of the KJV in modern life despite its archaisms (a glossary to many of the words is provided at the conclusion of the book). This is a nice overview of how the KJV came to be and its impact on society.

 Side Jobs: Stories from the Dresden Files, Jim Butcher
These are short stories based in the universe of Harry Dresden, "Chicago's only practicing wizard," as chronicled in Butcher's 12-book (and growing) series. The first is Butcher's first attempt at creating a universe around Dresden, which also recounts his first meeting with Karrin Murphy, his contact at the Chicago police, followed by a short vignette Butcher wrote to promote the series. The remainder of the stories, save one, have appeared in various fantasy anthologies over the years, and the final story is an original published for this volume.

Well, I enjoyed them all, even the first which Butcher claims isn't quite polished. In the short stories he has taken opportunities to deal with Harry's world from other POVs, so we have a story from the point of view of Harry's half-brother Thomas, one concentrating on Billy and Georgia's wedding, one about Michael's enforced retirement after the injuries he sustained in Small Favor, and even one which teases the "'shippers" of Harry/Murphy. Even Harry's big Temple dog Mouse gets in some good action.

Warning: the final story takes place after a major plot point in the book Changes. If you haven't reached that story yet and don't like spoilers, I'd avoid the story. Good piece, though, told from Murphy's POV.

 The Land of Painted Caves, Jean M. Auel
After many years Auel is releasing the sixth, and supposedly last, book in the Earth's Children series (although I read somewhere Auel has enough material for a seventh novel). Even if you have never read this series, you have probably heard of it via, if nothing else, the Daryl Hannah film of the first book, Clan of the Cave Bear. Hannah played the protagonist, Ayla, a Cro-Magnon child orphaned by an earthquake and raised by Neanderthals.

The first few books had a specific theme. Cave Bear was a "fish out of water" story. The second book, The Valley of Horses, is a survival story until right at the end where Ayla meets her soulmate, the handsome Jondalar. The Mammoth Hunters chronicles how Ayla learns to live with others of her kind, and is adopted by the people of the Lion Camp. Other adventures happen in The Plains of Passage and The Shelters of Stone, but they seemed anticlimatic.

In this book, Ayla prepares for her Zelandoni (spiritual leader) training by taking a pilgrimage to the sacred sites: the painted caves, culminating in a tour of Lascaux. In a way, that is one of the problems with this book: as Ayla, Jondalar, their baby and later young daughter Jonayla, and the First (the head spiritual leader) tour each of the tribes who live around the sacred spaces, the same things happen over and over: each must be introduced with their long titles, people must be amazed at Ayla's foreign accent and her way with animals (she has tamed two horses and also a wolf which she raised from a cub), the travois on which the First travels, etc. Although I understand Auel's need to describe everything to illustrate to the reader how the Zeladonii (Jondalar's tribe) live, the sheer description becomes daunting. Plus there is a large cast of characters, and while there are a dozen or so who stand out, after a while the names begin to blur. Is this man the drunken one, or the nice one? Is this woman the flirt, or the helpful one? One also wishes young Jonayla had been given more to do.

In the third part of the book, Ayla undergoes a revelation that will change the way the tribe sees itself, and the story moves a bit faster. Unfortunately, it also rehashes a plot from a previous volume. If you have invested yourself in the characters previously, you will probably be more patient with Auel's long-winded narration. Just be warned: it's slow going.