Books Finished Since June 1

 America is Born, Gerald W. Johnson
This is the first of three books for young people that Johnson wrote for his nephew about the history of the United States. There's a heavy, avuncular narration that is now out-of-fashion and does seem heavy-handed at times, but it's also a novel approach for the 1950s when the standard narration was often that what the colonial explorers and settlers did was for the good of everyone. Johnson admits that the native people were badly treated and asks his readers who have grown up on endless cowboy and Indian films to consider US history from the point of view of those here when the early settlers arrive. It's certainly not the most even treatment of the era, but certainly shows more consideration for other sides of the story besides the "true blue red-white-and-blue" establishment tale. An interesting artifact from the mid-20th century, and I'm still considering whether to hunt down the two sequels. 

 The Apprentices, Maile Meloy
It is two years since Janie Scott moved to London, met the apothecary's son, and was able to transform into a bird and have other wonderful but frightening adventures with Benjamin, his father, the Chinese chemist Jin Lo, and an exiled Hungarian count against a vindictive spy selling secrets to the Communists. She's back in the States, attending a private school in New Hampshire, her imagination fired by chemistry. Then, as two year's earlier, her life is turned into turmoil: she's accused of cheating and expelled. She takes refuge in a restaurant while she tries to figure out what to do. In the meantime, Benjamin and his father are in the jungles of Vietnam, facing their own dangers, but he's found a way to communicate with Janie—until he realizes she's in danger and calls on their old friend Pip in England for help.

In this wonderfully improbable and exciting sequel to The Apothecary, the children—well, not children anymore, but teenagers—are as resourceful as ever, trying to connect with one another and foil yet another plot to bring nuclear domination to the world. It's impossible to read just one chapter without going on to the next, promising yourself "Just one more" until you've reached the final page. While a returning villain from The Apothecary still comes off as slightly "Snidely Whiplash," the chief antagonist is a more complex, genuinely evil character who is quite chilling. A grand adventure!

(Warning for parents: some graphic but not gratuitous violence. You may want to screen this before reading aloud.)

 More Scenes from the Rural Life, Verlyn Klinkenborg
I am not familiar with Mr. Klinkenborg's column, but have reveled in rural-life observations from favorites such as Gladys Taber, Mary O'Hara, Haydn Pearson, and Rachel Peden. I was not disappointed with this thoughtful book of essays about life on a northern New York State farm, as well as other Western locations he has visited. Occasionally, I thought he was too detached from his observations, but chiefly I just savored his lovely descriptions of countryside, weather, and animal life. These short entries are perfect to read before going to sleep, a welcome respite from our frantic electronic world.

If you enjoyed this volume, I highly recommend O'Hara's out-of-print but well worth searching for Wyoming Summer, a diary of life on a ranch in the 1930s. Klinkenborg's pieces will never replace O'Hara's reminisces and Gladys Taber's tales of life at Stillmeadow in my heart, but they were enjoyable to read.

 A Discovery of Witches, Deborah Harkness
I refer to this as "the toast book."

I read this as a library book when it was first released and really did enjoy it, despite the fact that I intensely dislike vampire romances. The story opens in the confines of the Oxford University Ashmolean library, where Diana Bishop, an American student of ancient alchemical studies who suppresses her witch ancestry, inadvertently summons an ensorcelled volume missing for centuries. Suddenly all the otherworldly denizens of Diana's world—other witches, vampires, and the unpredictable daemons—are watching her, seemingly ready to pounce until she comes under the protection (at first unwillingly) of dashing vampire Matthew Clairmont.

Make no mistake, this book takes its sweet time building its universe, its characters, and its suspense. The protagonists take many chapters to trust and finally depend on each other, and Harkness leisurely details meals, Diana's sculling excursions, cozy rooms and fabulous libraries, castles and clothing, and everything else to add texture and place to her story. I was amused by the reviews of this book that constantly complained that Diana and Matthew strike sexual sparks off each other almost immediately and have many "near misses," but never do consummate their relationship. Heck, I thought the fact that they held off was refreshing (and with no lectures about "saving it for the right person," either). I particularly enjoyed the last portion of the book, where Diana's relatives provide a refuge: their bewitched home is delightful, supplying rooms when necessary, disgorging hidden family artifacts and needed furniture and bedclothes, riddled with family ghosts. Probably a third of it could be edited out, but that would curtail all the wonderful descriptions.

Anyway, Diana manages to eat toast at least six times in the first third of the book and the toast orgy continues in future pages; I've been craving toast ever since I read it the first time! Hence "the toast book." Hm. Maybe like Ashmole 782, this book is bewitched, too...

 The Adventures of Amos'n'Andy, Melvin Patrick Ely
By now the radio series and its television continuation have gone down in history as one of the most racist stories of all time—after all, the protagonists were two African-American men played, at least on radio, by two white men who used unlettered slang and malapropism, and who appeared as the characters in blackface makeup in public appearances.

But for years Amos'n'Andy was a hit series appreciated not only by whites, but by a considerable population of blacks, despite protestations from the leading "colored" newspapers of the time. Movies stopped when the series was on the air and the radio series piped into theatres; the television series, while concentrating its attentions on the rude and shiftless characters (the Kingfish and the shifty attorney Calhoun), was the first program to show African-American people as doctors, lawyers, and other professionals, rather than the servitude roles they were reduced to in white-protagonist comedy series.

Ely presents, as evenly as possible, both sides of the argument: the tradition of the minstrel show where even blacks were in blackface; the way Correll and Godsen's original serial take on Amos'n'Andy chronicled the African-American migration from the South to Northern cities and the challenges they faced there (only to degenerate, as many modern television series have, into a show emphasizing the more disreputable characters); the fact that the television series featured an all-black cast when such a thing was unheard of, yet presenting offensive stereotypes with at least half the characters; protests from African-Americans which were met by approval from other African-American groups. Some older African-Americans still remember the series with fondness; most groups, black and white, would rather forget.

An interesting take on what was once an American phenomenon.

 How Not to Write a Novel, Howard Mittelmark and Sandra Newman
In this case the old clichè is false: in this book you catch more flies with vinegar. That's the entertaining concept for this tutorial about what not to do as you begin your Great American Novel, illustrated with truly awful examples of cliches, stereotypes, abysmal writing, multi-page descriptions (as well as exceedingly terse ones), and grammatical horrors. Character and plot development, narrative style, handling of ethnic characters, historical fiction, dialog, and more are covered in a laugh-aloud, but point-taken manner.

The sad aspect of this book? You'll open the next novel in your TBR pile and discover many of the bad writing examples reproduced in the published volume in your hand!

 The Astronaut Wives Club, Lisa Koppel
I became fascinated by the story of the astronauts' wives from the first time I saw The Right Stuff. Already living an uncertain life as the wives of test pilots who might or might not come home every night, spouses of "the Original Seven" were thrust in the limelight, fictionalized in "Life" magazines, and held their breath during each spaceflight. When HBO's Emmy Award winning miniseries From the Earth to the Moon aired, one of the twelve episodes was devoted to "The Original Wives Club," concentrating on the Mercury and Gemini astronauts' wives. So it was with anticipation that I grabbed this volume.

I needn't have bothered. Most of what is rehashed here was addressed either in The Right Stuff or "The Original Wives Club," and the whole book is written at a fourth-grade reading level worthy of "People" magazine. Koppel adopts a chatty, superficial style mixing biographical data with the pop culture references of the 1960s that might be okay for a gossip magazine, but is sadly lacking as a definitive profile of women who juggled frequently absent and often unfaithful husbands, home responsibilities, childcare, and a growing awareness of their own place in a world where opportunities besides marriage and childcare were opening daily. I did learn a few things here and there, like the fact that Trudy Cooper was a licensed pilot, but, sadly, there's not much else here for someone looking for a serious portrait of astronaut wives. Louise Shepard, Betty Grissom, etc. deserve better.

 The Sisters Grimm: Tales from the Hood, Michael Buckley
Things are looking grim for the Grimms of Ferryport Landing. Sabrina and Daphne Grimm and their Granny Relda are no closer to awakening the girls' parents from their spell. Their uncle Jack has found their father's old girlfriend, Goldilocks, whom they think is capable of breaking that spell, but she appears to be fleeing a persistent pursuer. In the meantime, Robin Hood and Little John are put in charge of defending Mr. Canis, increasingly under the grip of the wicked Big Bad Wolf, in Mayor Charming's kangaroo court which surely will put the old man to death. Sabrina's even afraid that perhaps this is the best thing that can happen.

This entry, book six in the series, has a lot going on: the search for a spell quencher, as well as the efforts to find out the truth in the story of the Big Bad Wolf and the madness of Little Red Riding Hood. It is also the story of Sabrina's development from child into young woman, and the decisions—some bad—that she feels forced to make. This is a fun, imaginative series turning fairy tale legends on their heads, but it may need screening for younger readers due to the increasing violence of the conflict to come.

 The Sisters Grimm: The Everafter War, Michael Buckley
SPOILERS AHOY! because the series isn't finished yet!

It's finally happened: the moment Sabrina and Daphne Grimm have dreamed of. Their parents, once kept under an evil spell, are awake again. Sabrina is looking forward to going home to New York City and taking up her old life, free of the vengeful fairy tale characters who have tried to harm them ever since they came to live with their Granny Relda in Ferryport Landing. And, indeed, her father, still disgusted with his Grimm heritage, is eager to get the whole family far away from his hometown. But Daphne doesn't want to leave their new life and reminds her older sister that some of these "characters" are their friends. It's down to one question: do you do what's safe or what's right?

In the meantime those on the side of the Grimms are training to fight a bitter war against Mayor Heart and the Sheriff of Nottingham. There's a traitor in their midst, and a growing mystery...what happened to another Grimm, one both Sabrina and Daphne were unaware of? And who is the Master directing all this warfare? He's finally revealed...but don't expect it to bring the story to a happy ending.

 Confessions of a Prairie Bitch, Alison Arngrim
I reviewed this as a library copy when it came out:

Arngrim's writing is fast, funny—and sometimes terrifying, occasionally profane, and always absorbing. Arngrim came from a theatrical family: her father was Liberace's manager and her mother the voice of animated characters like Gumby and Sweet Polly Purebred, her brother was the cute little kid with the dog on Land of the Giants. But beneath the surface was dysfunction; her father was gay in an era when it wasn't spoken of and her parents focused so little on their children that Arngrim's "cute" brother molested her from an early age and was a hard drug user, all without their knowledge. In the midst of this chaos Arngrim worked off her fears and frustrations (and the pain of her elaborate wig and costume) via bratty Nellie Oleson, and found friendship with the girl who played her "enemy" Laura Ingalls, Melissa Gilbert. Hilarious and heartbreaking by turns.

But I had to buy my own copy because this is just such a memorable book, from Arngrim relating pranks on the set to her work for AIDS education after her co-star and good friend Steve Tracy was diagnosed with the illness to her incredible tales of her parents' cluelessness when it came to her brother. One of the more enjoyable show business autobiographies.

 The Life and Times of Call the Midwife, Heidi Thomas
Lovely coffee-table type book covering series one and two (and the Christmas special) of the recent hit British series following the adventures of midwives working in the impoverished East End of London during the late 1950s. The genesis of the series is covered as well as the casting, and, most interesting, the effort to make the 1950s setting as authentic as possible. There are neat little "profiles" of the main characters, and dozens of color photographs, not just of the cast, but of the settings and props, and tantalizing glimpses of Jennifer Worth from the journals of producer Heidi Thomas. Well mounted; a great gift volume for anyone fond of the series. 

 Little Shop of Homicide, Denise Swanson
Our protagonist Devereaux Sinclair comes with a big load of backstory: she led a pleasant life in her small hometown in Missouri until her dad was convicted for DUI homicide, her mother left home, and her boyfriend deserted her. (Sounds a lot like a country song, doesn't it?) Later, living in the city and working at a high-powered investment firm, Dev gets out just a month before her boss is arrested for running a Ponzi scheme. Despite having been cleared in court, there are still some people who thought the other employees of the firm—including Dev—knew all about the scam. Now she's back in Shadow Bend, caring for her grandmother and running an old dime store while making gift baskets on the side, and happy with her new lot in life; that is, until a sourpuss police detective who just happened to have lost his retirement funds with Dev's former employer accuses her of murder, one committed with the contents of one of her gift baskets. The victim: the fiancee of Dev's old high-school sweetheart, who supposedly still carried a torch for her.

Dev quickly rustles up her best friends Bess and Ned...whoops, Poppy and Boone...to help her combat the accusation. They think she needs some more professional help, and voïla, handsome detective Jake Del Vecchio, on medical leave after suffering an injury while on duty, arrives. Needless to say, sparks fly as Dev, her friends, Jake, and even spirited grandma Birdie try to run the real murderer to earth.

A cute little cozy with a large dollop of romance book-type passages. If you like your mysteries less frivolous, stay far away.

 Travel as a Political Act, Rick Steves
Steves takes us beyond the scenery, art, and history that make up the bulk of his travel series to write about traveling "responsibly," opening your mind to other cultures and mindsets beyond your own. In successive chapters, we visit the countries formerly comprising Yugoslavia, examine the good and the bad about the European union; examine culture and revolution in El Salvador; experience total government care (and high taxes) in Denmark as well as alternative drug use measures in Amsterdam; visit Turkey and Morocco, countries with large Islamic populations but a secular government; and dip into Iran, long a bad word in the US vocabulary.

Steves admits he doesn't want Danish taxes or have women swathed in burkas surrounding him; he does ask that you understand the reasons other cultures prefer their own way of living. While veiling seems extreme to us, for example, to certain Muslim families it means their daughters will not grow up being sexualized as they see Western countries treating women. Older Bosnians actually miss Communism because they did not have to worry about medical expenses or old age pensions. Admittedly a bit evangelical, but still...always food for thought.

 Memories Before and After The Sound of Music, Agathe von Trapp
If your exposure to the story of the Trapp family has been the Rogers and Hammerstein musical...well, it's a lovely movie with fabulous music, but not much of it is true. For the real "Maria's" side of the story, a visit to her Story of the Trapp Family Singers is in order. But for the story of the Trapp family before the arrival of their unladylike tutor (the real Maria was employed as a tutor to one of the children who had been sick, not as a governess), we must turn to this easygoing memoir by Agathe von Trapp. The first half of the book chronicles the Trapp family life before the death of her mother, who succumbed after the rest of the household recovered from scarlet fever. We meet the grandparents of the original seven children, including the aristocratic but loving "Gromi," and the Whiteheads, the Trapp children's maternal British family. Agathe also paints a loving portrait of her father, whom she thought was terribly portrayed in the film as a martinet, and we follow the children and their parents on adventures in Austria and Italy, including camping trips on deserted islands and adventures aboard a sailing ship.

Agathe's chronicles after her father remarries are briefer, possibly because she knew her stepmother had chronicled those years more fully. Still, some facts came as a surprise: I had no idea Maria was known to the children as Gustl (a diminutive of her middle name Augusta) before becoming their stepmother! She also briefly vents some frustration at Maria's meddling in her adult life, but mostly the book chronicles smooth sailing and hard work. Her prose doesn't exactly "sing," but if you're interested in knowing more about the family, especially before the advent of Maria, this is a good solid choice, and it's illustrated by her charming pen-and-ink drawings.

 Among the Janites, Deborah Yaffe
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that...devoted admirers of novels of note will eventually seek and encounter one another."

Actually, Yaffe had me at page three of her introduction, in which she described herself and commented, "As far back as I can remember, I earned good grades, hated gym class, and read with a ravenous hunger." And she wore glasses, too! :-) Jane Austen was one of her childhood favorite authors, but years after befriending Austen fans, organizing an Austen book club, and attending meetings of the Jane Austen Society of North America (JASNA), she began to wonder about her fellow "Janeites." What drew them to Austen? How far did their affections reach: did they just see the movies (to drool over Colin Firth in a wet shirt) and perhaps read one or two of her books? Were they addicted from childhood to Austen's novels or did they come to be a fan later in life? Nor, she knew, were devoted Austen fans unique to modern times; the word "Janeites" was coined to describe them in 1894.

Within a framing sequence of purchasing a gown to attend the Regency dance at the upcoming JASNA convention, Yaffe talks about all aspects of Austen fandom: taking Austen tours, writing Austen-inspired fiction, finding other Austen fans pre-internet, Austen web pages and mailing lists, and more. You'll meet the former computer executive who restored an Austen relative's home, the gadfly who proposes there's a much darker subtext under Austen's prose, people whose devotion to Austen kept them on an even keel during major disasters in their lives and others to whom the characters are so real they develop personal dislikes or affections for them. You don't even need to be familiar with Austen's works to read this book (I've never read Austen myself, despite the fact that every e-reader I've ever owned has come with a copy of Pride and Prejudice; I can't seem to get past that classic first line)—handy summaries of her six books are included as an appendix—because it's not just a portrait of Austen fans, but a summary of fandom itself, people who have found a family with those who have like interests.Whether your fandom is based on print or visual media, you will probably recognize archetypes here. A delight from beginning to end.

Food for the Mind

What were adults reading 100 (or more) years ago?

I've chatted in this blog about my collection of bound issues of "St. Nicholas" magazine, which was published first by Scribner; their magazine for adults was, not surprisingly, "Scribner's Magazine"; when "St. Nicholas" was sold to the Century Company, naturally its adult counterpart was "The Century Magazine."

I've written about reading a bound copy of the latter before here, but if you want to do your own investigation, Google Books now "has you covered." For instance, here's a bound copy of 1912 -1913's "Century":

November 1912 - April 1913  

which includes the sobering “Is the Negro Having a Fair Chance?” by Booker T. Washington, a stinging indictment of "separate but equal."

From a year earlier: November 1911 - April 1912

In fact, if you note the first "Century" issue listed on this search page and click the "more editions" link next to it, you will get an extensive list of the bound issues you can check out.

But don't be surprised after reading the subjects and text in "The Century" if "The Economist" and "Scientific American" suddenly look like sixth-grade fare and "People" only fit for kindergarteners.

Books Finished Since May 1

 Mistletoe and Murder, Carola Dunn
Daisy's first Christmas with her new husband, DI Alec Fletcher, and her stepdaughter Belinda, is hijacked by her imperious mother, who declares the whole family will spend the holiday season at the Cornish estate Brockdene as guests of Lord Westmoor. Alas for the Dowager, who is imagining an elegant country-house Christmas, Lord Westmoor doesn't even live at Brockdene any longer; the house is occupied by some "poor relations" in his family, the Norvilles, who are treated with snobbery by the servants because the female head of the household is from India and her children are of mixed racial ancestry. Not only are relations tense as the Fletchers arrive, but a guest brought by "sea dog" Captain Norville, a straitlaced missionary, turns out to be imperious, unyielding, humorless—and eventually dead.

This is a dandy Daisy outing, with the children (Belinda and Daisy's nephew Derek) providing humor and clues without being cloyingly cute kids. The Norvilles are all appealing characters, especially the gentle grandmother whose marriage to Lord Westmoor's uncle has never been legitimized—well, except for young Jemima, whose irritating adolescence is in nice contrast to Belinda's sunny personality. The manor house and its surrounding estate provides a great setting as well, complete with hidden passages and intriguing antiques. One of the better entries in the Daisy Dalrymple Fletcher mystery series.

 War Work, Libby Oneal
Ms. Oneal, who was a little girl during World War II, based this wartime novel on her own experiences as a child. Zoe and her little sister Rosie face a boring summer since their usual seashore trip has been canceled due to gas rationing. While helping a neighbor boy, Joe Bunch, collect scrap for the war effort, the children discover a man dropping a note into a tree trunk. Convinced he's a spy, the kids start staking out the tree and following the culprit, who seems to be connected to the sisters' neighbor Miss Lavatier, who gives dancing lessons. What's going on? Can the kids catch a spy?

This is considerably less suspenseful than my summary sounds. Despite the mention of scrap collection and Victory gardens, blackouts and German spies, I never got a real 1940s feel from the story. It has more of a 1950s/early 1960s feel to it, and the illustrations don't help; they are in a very 70s style, especially on the cover. Children probably won't notice the difference, but it was a real letdown for me. Plus I know kids didn't have "helicopter" parents back then, but I can't believe Zoe was able to sneak out of the house as many times as she did, get her clothes all dirty, and then have her mother not notice! Zoe's relationship with her little sister is very natural, however, and often comic, and sisters should recognize themselves in Zoe and Rosie.

 Murder at Marble Arch, Anne Perry
How refreshing to see Pitt back where we enjoyed him best, investigating society crime. The rape and murder of Caroline Quixwood, followed by the accidental death of Angeles Castelbranco, daughter of the Portuguese ambassador, sets the stage in Perry's newest Pitt mystery; as the novel unfolds, it becomes apparent the two deaths are connected in some way, especially after it is discovered that Angeles was almost certainly a victim of rape. Both Thomas and Charlotte find that this latter crime hits close to home, as Angeles was only a few years older than their eldest child, fourteen-year-old Jemima, just blooming sexually and beginning to notice young men.

I enjoyed this much more than the more cloak-and-dagger aspects of the last few novels, but admit to being dismayed that Victor Narraway appears to be taking over the Pitt stories. Half the plot revolves around Narraway's investigation of the crimes, and his attraction to the older but still lovely Lady Vespasia Cumming-Gould. I also still miss Gracie, the Pitts' former maid, who is now married; Minnie Maude isn't half so memorable or fun. I wish Perry would write a novel with Gracie and her husband, police officer Samuel Tellman, as the main characters!

 Private Life in Britain's Stately Homes, Michael Paterson
If weeks of watching Downton Abbey have whetted your curiosity about English country houses, you should enjoy this easy-to-read overview of the golden age of the British country house, which only lasted briefly between the time transportation, plumbing, and heating made these country houses a comfortable place to weekend and the beginning of the first World War, after which people were much less likely to want to be servants on a huge estate and inheritance taxes took the bloom off owning huge properties. It may surprise people to know that this "golden age" lasted only around thirty years since so much literary and film attention has been paid to it. Paterson takes us behind the scenes of the history of the great manor homes, and the daily activities of both the "upstairs" and "downstairs" folk. History buffs should enjoy!

 The Apothecary, Maile Meloy
Some of the best books are accidental. There's this one, for instance, which I picked up at Books-a-Million because I was intrigued by the cover and the description on the back cover. Janie Scott lives a fun life in 1952 Hollywood, where her parents are writers for television. But 1952 is also the uneasy reign of Senator McCarthy and the House Committee on Un-American Activities . Knowing they will be subpoened to testify against friends, the Scotts flee to austerity London, where Janie's mom and dad find work writing for a series about Robin Hood. Janie finds herself the "new American kid" in a British school, intrigued by classmate Benjamin, whose father is the local apothecary.

And then Benjamin's father is kidnapped. But why? He's just a neighborhood storekeeper who's tried to persuade Benjamin to follow in his footsteps. Could it have something to do with the Pharmacopoeia?

This is just a dandy adventure story mixing a variety of elements: magic from the apothecary's ancient book the Pharmacopoeia, 1950s spy fiction, English school mystery, traitors, and Soviet agents. As an adult I might have wished for a few more glimpses of austerity Britain and fewer daydreams involving schoolgirl crushes, but the emphasis is pretty spot-on for a fourteen-year-old girl, and it sure beats females gushing over vampires and werewolves. As a plus, the pages are decorated with wonderful charcoal-like pencil sketches. I'd just turned the last page when I discovered a sequel was in the works. (Plus the plot element about American writers living and working in Britain and writing under assumed names is taken from real life as well.) Can't wait!

 The Possibility Dogs, Susannah Charleson
I enjoyed the author's previous Scent of the Missing, and found this volume even more appealing. After a particularly arduous and unsettling search-and-rescue mission with her Golden retriever, Puzzle, Charleson found herself developing PTSD symptoms including repetition of tasks. Soon afterwards she began to foster an abused, starved pit-bull cross that was abandoned by his owners.

For years, service dogs--at first guide dogs for the blind, and, more recently, "hearing-ear" dogs and dogs to help the mobility-impaired--have been specially bred for their tasks. But in adopting "Jake Piper," Charleson investigates the more recent notion of training rescue dogs as service animals, including working as psychological support for those who suffer PTSD or unexpected panic attacks. To that end, she begins training Jake Piper as a "psych dog," discovering in the process that she may need him herself.

Interspersed with Charleson's narrative of training Jake, she recounts stories of people helped by their service animals, including a former firefighter, a young woman who suffers from severe panic attacks, and a man with anxiety disorder whose introduction to service animals came when his son became wheelchair-bound after an accident; abandoned dogs like Annie, Lexie, and Ollie T, who proved that being discarded did not make them unwanted or unlovable; and often amusing (but occasionally heartbreaking) stories of her own pet Pomeranians, including handicapped Misty and the opinionated Mr. Sprit'sl. A pleasant, readable narrative, recommended for dog lovers or those looking for information about the training of service dogs.

 Speak to the Earth, Rachel Peden
I was looking for a book to satisfy my "more Gladys Taber"—since, alas, I have collected and completed all of Taber's delightful "Stillmeadow" books—craving, and noted Rachel Peden mentioned as being similar in style and tone. Speak to the Earth is a compilation of Peden's farm columns from 1940s through the 1970s, as were her previous books. How could you not like a book that starts with "The February day was ending in a cold sunset; no red clouds, no pinkness, no orange-colored glory. Only a dazzling silver disk in a gray muslin sky; a hill from which bushy, dark trees pushed upward; a wind blowing coldly out of the north."

Peden's descriptive language about the land, foliage and animals is beautiful and evocative; I particularly loved the story about her daughter and the violets. She has a nice solid knowledge of insect life, although for myself I would have had fewer descriptions of bugs! I just didn't find her as warm as Taber. I'm probably just being picky. If you enjoy lyrical language about country living, give Peden a try.

 Duel With the Devil, Paul Collins
Murder mystery blends with historical tale in this slim but detail-packed volume about the death of a young Quaker woman whose body is found in a 18th century New York City well. Just before disappearing, the girl confides to a boardinghouse companion that she is to be married to a talented young carpenter who also lives at the boardinghouse. Of course, he becomes the first suspect in her death, and the denizens of the city are howling for his blood. With this in mind a talented team of defense lawyers must be chosen—and it includes Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, four years before their historic duel, and already viciously sniping at each others' political beliefs.

While Collins does an excellent job of maintaining suspense in the mystery, even offering a solution to this, which is termed "America's oldest 'cold case,'" the big draw for me was the eloquent description of 18th century New York City, a noisy and noisome post-Revolutionary community suffering from bad water and constant sickness, the most recent being yellow fever. You are there walking the cobbled streets and dirt roads, hearing the sounds of the blacksmith and the fishmonger, smelling pungent waste and candle wax and livestock, there as civilization's slow progress creeps up from the Battery and approaches Greenwich Village (still an actual village at the time), as the construction of a potable water system is attempted. You meet the venial and the virtuous, the prim ladies and the rakes, feel the bite of winter and the uncomfortable fate of the twelve jurors left to bed down on the floor in a portrait gallery until the trial is finished. For this glimpse into 18th century alone, this book is "worth the trip." A great read for history lovers.

 What's a Dog For?, John Homans
Subtitled "The Surprising History, Science, Philosophy, and Politics of Man's Best Friend," the adoption of Homan's Lab mix Stella sets the stage for his exploration of the dog's place in culture and in science. Homan investigates the intelligence of dogs, from the opinion that they are unique (did you know dogs are the only animal that will follow a pointing finger? not even a chimpanzee will do so) to the studies of others who say that dogs are nothing special in the brains department. Several chapters cover the evolution of wolves into dogs, and then the further segmenting of dogs into breeds and how the breed standards have created health problems in dogs like the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and the German Shepherd (this section includes a interesting chapter that traces the history of the Labrador retriever, descended from the St. John's dog of Newfoundland).

Homans had much interesting information here, although there really wasn't anything "surprising," but I still found the book difficult to complete. The narrative isn't bad, but it isn't compelling either; there's nothing about it that takes me effortlessly from chapter to chapter. I usually finish nonfiction books about dogs in less than a week and this one took me over a month.

 Mr. Monk on Patrol, Lee Goldberg
Monk was always written with a dollop of humor, and in this book the dollop is very large indeed.

In this outing, Monk and Natalie find themselves in Summit, New Jersey, trying to help out old colleague Randy Disher and Monk's old nurse, Sharona Fleming, now a couple. All the elected officials of tiny Summit have been indicted on various fraud charges, so Randy's trying to juggle being police chief, mayor, and God knows what else. Into this has come a spate of home burglaries, and then a woman is murdered, and the "defective detective" and his overworked assistant come to the rescue.

There are some funny moments here, especially when Monk is initially repulsed and then attracted to, due to her OCD proclivities, a woman named Ellen Morse who runs a shop called "Poop," which sells fossilized coprolites and other items to do with excrement, and Natalie continues her voyage of self-discovery in her process of becoming a private investigator on her own. (Randy's still his goofy self verbally, but he's acquired a veneer of responsibility and his real love of Sharona shows through, which reduces me to a puddle of goo.) But the plot and situations are pretty over the top, even compared to past volumes; I'm thinking this is a novel only an Adrian Monk fan could love. (Oh, and by the way, I can't believe it took Monk and Natalie so long to twig to "whodunit." Talk about being self-absorbed!)

 A Question of Honor, Charles Todd
After three very good adventures with Bess Crawford, World War I nursing "sister," this fifth volume returns to the flawless excellence of Bess' first mystery.

Bess' early life was spent in India with her Army officer father, the "Colonel Sahib," as he is known, and her mother. Unlike other children, she is not sent to England to relatives or to boarding school as she gets older, but is tutored at "home." Thus she vividly remembers the shock when dependable, friendly Lieutenant Wade disappears after the police appear searching for him in connection with a murder. Her father, angry at this betrayal of his unit's honor, has the officer searched for, and a report finally comes that he has died trying to escape to Afghanistan. While it cools tempers, except for the few that think the Army is covering up for Wade, the mystery of why the murders occurred is never solved. Then, ten years later as Bess is nursing during the war, a dying Indian sergeant tells her he has seen Lieutenant Wade—alive. It is a mystery that will take Bess from London to the countryside, and in the meantime her battle to save lives in the medical stations of France continues.

In this installment, Bess' ability to travel back and forth to England to investigate the mystery is much more believable, as she accompanies troopships back and forth across the channel, delivering injured men to recuperative facilities and escaping the predations of submarines. Todd spends much time in the trenches with Bess as she endures blood, filth, sleeplessness, and constant shelling, portraying the stark horror of the war in vivid terms. At the same time we are able to follow the bit-by-bit investigation of the reason a family was murdered. The mystery is well drawn out and keeps you guessing, and the fact that Bess does, coincidentally, run into some of the people she needs to talk to in the trenches is not overwhelming. There's even an encounter with Rudyard Kipling, which, if you have read, or seen an adaptation of, his short story "Baa-baa Black Sheep," will give you a clue to the mystery. Bess and Simon continue their "is there something between them?" relationship (with no resolution, but a good working partnership), and the descriptions, from battlefield to bucolic, are evocative and strong. Bess' mother is able to help her with her sleuthing in this outing, and the situations are realistic. I opened this book at Chapter One and didn't put it down until it was finished.

 The War to End Wars 1914-18, Readers Digest
This is part of a series called "20th, The Eventful Century," from Reader's Digest, which I picked up in a used book store. This is a basic, illustrated overview to World War I, filled with a great collection of photographs, drawings, and illustrations of the different battles on the Front. (A two-page spread illustrates the trench system integral to the "Great War.") I'm still looking for a homefront WWI book, if such an animal exists, but in the meantime this illustrated volume filled in some blank spaces rather well with photos of the era.

Books Finished Since April 1

 Here is Where: Discovering America's Great Forgotten History, Andrew Carroll
I always wince a little bit when people say they "hate history," as the author of this book does up front, but on the other hand can understand. For years uninspiring history teachers have made the study a jumble of rote names, dates, and events. I was lucky and had history teachers that tried a bit harder to bring the past alive, parents and relatives who had lived through historic events (the Depression, the Hurricane of 1938, World War II) and talked about it, and, finally, when I reached eleventh grade, Alistair Cooke's brilliant America program. Cooke didn't just name pertinent dates and people, he talked about the things limited history classes left out: Columbus' charismatic personality, the sufferings the pioneers endured crossing the continent, the appalling conditions among the poor and the burlesque houses of the turn of the 20th century, etc. So a book like this, talking about the forgotten people and events of United States history, is like a Christmas feast, the ordinary combined with the extraordinary.

Carroll's journey begins in a light rail station that was the site of an ironic piece of history: there Abraham Lincoln's eldest son Robert was saved from death by Edwin Booth, brother of John Wilkes, a fact not even noted at the rail station itself, which gives him the idea to search for unmarked historical sites all over the country. He begins his journey on the privately-owned island of Niihau in the Hawaiian chain, where a forgotten event (well, to everyone but a recent episode of PBS's History Detectives) eventually led to the internment of Japanese citizens. Along Carroll's journey, you will learn of courageous runaway slaves, of the noted gangster whose brother worked in law enforcement, of ancient settlers' homes and of rocket launches, presidents, ordinary folks, and the fellow who invented television while plowing his father's fields, not to mention the first African-American to not give up a seat on a bus to a white person (hint: it wasn't Rosa Parks).

This book was a real treat for a history lover, and I highly recommend it.

 Trixie Belden and the Mystery of the Queen's Necklace, Kathryn Kenny
Apparently whatever ghostwriter did this volume had the impression Trixie was a rude, boorish teenager. Impulsive surely, but rude...what the heck? Trixie laughing so hard about the Shakespearean names of hotel rooms that she gets the Bob-Whites refused rooms? Being so loud in Madame Tussauds that she gets them in trouble? Really. Did they even read the other books?

The skinny on the plot: Honey, Trixie, Mart, and Jim, chaperoned by Miss Trask, are off to London and then to Stratford to track down Mrs. Wheeler's family (no ancestry.com then!) and find out if a large, elaborate paste necklace might have some historical value. Honey inadvertently mentions the necklace in public and the next thing you know, a mysterious man in grey is following them everywhere (or so Trixie thinks, as no one else ever sees him). They gain a guide in an amiable Scotsman who saves Honey from a bus and who takes a shine to Miss Trask (and she, surprisingly, to him!). So are they really being followed? And who's the enemy here?

Besides Trixie's odd antics, because this is for kids everything is explained: the difference in British and American English (Mart is forever translating things), well-known historical sites, even 221B Baker Street, which, I'm sorry, Trixie should have remembered, since they talk about her in connection with Sherlock Holmes so much. Sightseeing facts are tossed in liberally as well, so this may not be the ideal volume for the nostalgic adult. :-)

 French Twist, Catherine Crawford
So what's a nearly retirement age childless woman doing ordering this book? Well, because I'd read French Kids Eat Everything and considered Bringing Up Bebe, and I was intrigued to find yet another book about French parenting making the rounds. I enjoyed this book a lot, but perhaps not for the reason the author would want. I was just plain amused to hear about this novel "French parenting."

You see, fifty years or more ago, when I was a kid (yeah, I did walk to school in the snow, but not uphill both ways) this was the way AMERICAN parents brought up their kids. You were taught to be polite and respectful. You were at least expected to try a new food, and while your mother might give you a break on a few, there were just foods you had to eat because the doctor said they were good for you. Kids didn't eat endless specially prepared meals of chicken fingers, macaroni and cheese, and hot dogs; you ate the good chicken/pork chops/beef/veal you were served along with healthy helpings of corn, salad greens, carrots, etc. Kids washed up and went to bed without endless bedtime rituals and didn't sleep every night in their parents' bed. Screaming tantrums got you removed from the premises. Kids didn't make the rules, the parents did.

Well, until some psychologists and "parenting experts" (a lot of whom didn't even have kids) decided that if you didn't indulge your child in every whim they would grow up emotionally stunted and turn into raving maniacs who hated their parents.

Surprise! we didn't. All of the novelty "French parenting" is just practical advice from an earlier era. The narration is a bit scattershot, but it's mostly fun, but the biggest revelation in this book if you're an older person is how spoiled the author's children were before she started "French parenting." My parents would have been appalled at the manners and habits of Crawford's daughters.

 Dear America: Dreams in the Golden Country, Kathryn Lasky
This is the enjoyable "diary" of Zipporah Feldman ("Zippy" to her friends), who moves with her Jewish family from Russia to the tenements of New York City. The family is discouraged at the crowded, smelly tenement house in which they end up, but soon Zippy is trying to catch up in school (they won't let her go into her proper grade until she can speak English fluently), her eldest sister is organizing sweatshop workers, and her father has found work. Zippy can't figure out, however, where her middle sister goes during the night, nor why her mother is so afraid to give up her old-country ways (including the wig which was traditional among Russian Jews), nor why they need to have a smelly boarder. Once again, as in Christmas After All, Lasky draws on the experiences and memories of her ancestors to make the story more true-to-life. Her portrayal of the crowded conditions in the tenements and in the streets of the Lower East Side are very vivid and jibe with other accounts I have read, including Sam Levinson's. Zippy is a smart and spunky heroine caught between old customs and new, and doing her best to make her own way.

 Doctor Who FAQ, Dave Thompson
Okay, this isn't as good as Star Trek FAQ, since the last sixty pages are pretty much an episode list and a list of books and comics (but for that it's a good summary of each), but there's a lot to like in Thompson's collection, if you can be patient with his likes (the first four Doctors and the seventh, and, marginally, I think the ninth) and dislikes (every other Doctor and every redhead who's stepped aboard the TARDIS—don't get him started on Rory Williams). Neat chapters/essays: how the Fourth Doctor took PBS by storm, followed by a short history of the creation of the series (including its origins in British SF); an examination of the succession of companions; how the author thinks the historical stories have become disappointing; and a ripping entry about "The Daemons." There's also a rather overlong chapter on the villains and intriguing bits on Doctor Who songs (no, not incidental music and the theme song, but tunes like "I'm Gonna Spend My Christmas With a Dalek") and toys, and pieces on sea monsters and the Tube to boot.

And of course there's Daleks. All about the Daleks, and vintage images of Daleks (along with vintage books and posters, which are fun all in themselves). Yeah, it's a bit pricey, but this Who fan since 1974 enjoyed the hell out of it.

 Cronkite's War: His World War II Letters Home, Walter Cronkite IV& Maurice Isserman
Although we watched our news—and all the space mission coverage!—on NBC (Chet Huntley and David Brinkley), there's nothing I like better than watching retrospectives of the past and seeing Walter Cronkite, listening to his authoritative, comforting voice, whether it tells about the anguish over the assassination of a president or the joy of watching man leave his home planet. His The Twentieth Century was a Sunday-night staple in our home.

Cronkite's news career during World War II was what brought him to the fore in news reporting, but, as for almost every other reporter and every other soldier in the fight, his heart was at home with his family and especially with wife Betsy, whom he was separated from for three years. His letters vividly speak of his loneliness.

Unfortunately, they don't speak of a lot else all that interesting. Due to censorship, Cronkite doesn't write much about the war, except for a few poignant bits, like a few lines about a aircraft gunner who stuck to his gun even when the turret cover was ripped off and was so severely frostbitten he had no face left, or a personal experience in which a buzz bomb struck the rear of the building in which Cronkite and a buddy shared an apartment. Mostly he speaks of how much he misses Betsy (and the other red-head in his life, their cocker spaniel Judy), the bad weather, the bad food, his annoying roommates, the lack of fuel, the aborted war assignments. When he does get to go on something significant, he can't write of it to Betsy except in passing, although we do get passages from many of the articles he wrote about those missions via inserted news stories. After a while, it just gets tiresome—especially when we're told by the supporting narrative for the fiftieth time that Judy is the cocker spaniel (we get it, she's their dog) or information is imparted in the narration which is then repeated by Walter several lines later in the actual letter. It was nice to see Cronkite's "softer side," but to tell the truth I found this book slow slogging.

 Trixie Belden and the Mystery at Saratoga, Kathryn Kenny
Another good entry in the "Trixie sequels" (after the classic sixteen), Saratoga, the 24th book in the series, opens with Honey's tearful news that the Manor House's beloved stable manager, Bill Regan, has vanished after leaving her parents and his nephew cryptic notes about having to go away and take care of some business. The girls suspect, since Regan's mysterious past has something to do with the racetracks at Saratoga, New York, that he's there, and, since the Wheelers are also there for the racing season, talk Honey's parents into having them as guests.

Except for the fact that there's a big "information dump" during a library sortie researching a prominent horse owner, and another given by Honey about the history of Saratoga (because Trixie never pays attention in history class, apparently; how does she get promoted in school?), this is a dandy mystery with lots of red herrings and a sauce of danger, even if the girls get into giggling fits one too many times. Oh, and the social problem lesson for this volume is gambling addiction. Recommended for Trixie fans.

(I found it amusing that when Honey does her "history of Saratoga" summary for Trixie, she doesn't mention the one thing a Wimpy-hamburger-loving Bob-White probably would have remembered the most about Saratoga: it was the birthplace of the potato chip!)

 Little Women, Annotated Edition by Daniel Shealy
If you're an Alcott fan, as I am, this volume will be a delight. I've read Little Women since childhood (all the way back to when I complained to my mother when I found out I read an abridged edition—I wanted the whole story!) and, by dint of further reading, found out many of the historical background items for this book, but this collects all of them in a super package, from the many references to Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, to how book events paralleled the Alcotts' real lives, to definitions of familiar objects and terms in the 19th century that have since disappeared, like a charabanc, pickled limes (which, BTW, sound disgusting!), and trumps. (I did find it a bit sad that the author needed to translate several words that I found commonplace; is it really necessary today to tell someone that "sober" means "solemn," for instance?) Other than the fact that a couple of the annotations struck me as incorrect or odd, and that one illustration was mislabeled, this is thoroughly delightful from cover to cover. Included in the text are illustrations from various editions of the book, from May Alcott's originals to the Louis Jambour drawings that I grew up with, and stills from the various film versions of the story.

An introduction provides historical and biographical background to Alcott and the writing of the book. Also cool is the fact that Shealy uses Alcott's original publication text, which was edited when the book was brought out in a uniform edition several years later (this is the version most people have been reading since 1880; Alcott's publishers objected to the slang that had been used in the original version, such as "ain't," and "don't" rather than "doesn't" and corrected them, as well as fixing other descriptions—"stout" was removed from descriptions of both Mrs. March and Professor Bhaer, for example, with "tall" substituted); these changes are listed in an appendix. Absolutely worth the money!

 Shopping, Seduction & Mr. Selfridge, Lindy Woodhead
Just so we're clear here: Mr. Selfridge, which has lately appeared on Masterpiece, is a fictionalized soap opera based on the story of the real Harry Gordon Selfridge; this book is about the real thing. However, the real Harry (his friends actually knew him as "Gordon") was just as audacious as his television counterpart.

When H. Gordon Selfridge opened his first department store at Oxford Street in London, it was the beginning of a revolution. Selfridge, who started out as a stock boy and served under the American department store giant Marshall Field, took the stock from behind the counter, tucked away in nondescript boxes, and put it on display for his customers to touch (and smell, in the case of perfume—he moved the perfume counter to the front of the store to cover the pervading odor of horse from the street). He took makeup "out of the closet" (previously it had been hidden at the back of the store, women not wanting to admit they used "paint" to enhance their appearance). His display windows were inventive and eye-catching rather than just a jumble of for-sale merchandise. His promotions included inviting adventurers of the day, like aviators and explorers, to the store. He believed in paying his employees a living wage. But he had his dark side: losing quantities of money gambling, and being unfaithful to his wife, lavishing large amounts of money on his mistresses.

Woodhead's lively biography is all the more interesting because it's the true tale of Selfridge and the retail world he changed. The modern department store is partially that way because of Selfridge's marketing and design choices one hundred years ago.

 A Crimson Warning, Tasha Alexander
Lady Emily Hargreaves and her husband Colin, dashing espionage agent for the Crown, return to London for the season, but their arrival is greeted with the current scandals: a young woman making a promising engagement is revealed to be illegitimate, a busy exporter was left to burn to death in his own warehouse and before his death, his front door and steps were smeared with red paint. Then red paint begins appearing on other homes, revealing other scandalous secrets, and breaths are held: who will be next and what will be revealed? And will Emily's best friend Ivy be one of those exposed in a scandal?

Alexander seems to be "back in the saddle," so to speak, in this latest Lady Emily mystery. Emily is closely involved in the investigation of who killed the exporter as well as in a later murder which takes place, solving clues scattered in the British Museum among the antiquities she so loves, deciphering codes, even exploring a location where a young woman was supposedly imprisoned and accompanying Colin to a fetid match factory where the disabled are being exploited. A string of colorful characters appear, including the eccentric Lady Glover, who drives a team of zebras, and Jeremy Sheffield makes a welcome reappearance. This isn't a deep psychological mystery, but it's a good solid read.

 Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street, William S. Baring-Gould
You can't read books about Sherlock Holmes without tripping over the title of this book, written by a prominent Sherlockian. It's a biography of the Great Detective, deduced from comments and references in the Canon as well as deductions made over the years by the Baker Street Irregulars (not Holmes' youthful assistants, but the society of Holmes lovers). A good portion of the text is given over to retelling some of the notable stories of the canon, so the faithful Holmes fan may find much repetition. It's interesting to see the biographical deductions, especially in Holmes' early life, while one later relation seems a bit of a stretch. I'm glad I finally found this book after reading about it so many time, but IMHO I don't think it would be of interest to anyone who isn't a Sherlock Holmes fan. If you're a Holmes newbie and want an introduction to the universe, something like the "Dummies" guide to Holmes would be a better bet.

 Two for Sorrow, Nicola Upson
"Baby farming" was the name given to the 19th-early 20th century practice of unscrupulous midwives who took in unwed expectant mothers (or women who didn't want any more children), promising them that their children would be adopted, but in reality allowing the babies to die. When Josephine Tey decides to write a novel about the two most notorious baby farmers, Amelia Sach and Annie Walters, who were hanged at Holloway Prison, she has no idea how her research will eventually connect to the brutal murder of a young ex-convict working as a seamstress.

Multiple plotlines run through this third Josephine Tey mystery. One is the novel that Josephine is writing, which tries to make sense of why a woman so devoted to her own child would condone the death of babies. There is also the continuing story from the previous books in which Josephine comes to terms with a relationship. The main storyline involves Tey's club, which is associated with a nurses' college, a charity show for which Inspector Archie Penrose's cousins are making the costumes, the seamstress' murder, and the long-ago suicide of a university classmate of Tey's. This is a complicated mystery with many threads, and the addition of the relationship issue almost bogs the story down. Still, I found myself enjoying the puzzle enough that the romantic plotline didn't distract me overmuch. If you are sensitive to such things, do note that the murder is described in detail and there is also a detailed sexual encounter.

Read Faster, You Fool

I've been an Amazon Vine member since 2009. I'd been doing Amazon reviews for a while before that, and was very surprised to be asked, because I certainly didn't have hundreds of reviews.

The idea is that every third Thursday you are sent a "targeted" list, supposedly by your interests. (There are some bitter comments from childless people who get offered baby strollers or nipples for bottles, women who are offered men's items, etc.) This is usually one to two pages. Then on the following Thursday all the items left are offered and you can pick two more. The items are usually books, but almost everything else has been offered, from electronics to food. You get the items for free, but in return, you are required to review them—a more thoughtful review than "I really liked this" or "This was awful."

The rule was, when I joined, that you had to review 75 percent of everything on your list. This was fair. I pretty much kept up with this for quite a while, but then, just being human, did skip some things. Last year the percentage you had to review was increased to 80 percent.

Sometimes things just don't work out. I've loved Amazon Vine because, since the books were Advance Reader Copies and free, I could occasionally step out of my book comfort zone without feeling like I'd wasted money. I don't usually read "chick lit," but once I selected a novel about a fictional dressmaker aboard the Titanic, another about a young woman living in Niagara Falls just after the falls were rigged to provide electrical power. I even got some military nonfiction. Just lately I got a book of Oz short fiction (definitely for adults), even though I've never been much of an Oz fan. But I also got a book that I thought was a geological history that turned out to be a climate change diatribe. A book about dogs that has actually turned out to be a bit dull. And even a piece of electronics which I ended up not using because after I read the other reviews of it, I didn't want to take a chance with it.

Friday everyone on Amazon Vine got an e-mail. Starting May 15, 100 percent of everything you order has to be reviewed within 30 days. Ouch! If you read slowly, better not order tomes. If they're offering something summery in December, you're probably not going to take it. Waiting till the grandkids visit at Thanksgiving to test out the cool toy you chose in May—not any more. The sticker was that this 100 percent review policy is retroactive through the beginning of January. So most of us have to hustle to get any back items reviewed. I'm enjoying Cronkite's War, but it's slow going as well. I have that and another book to finish for this month and will need to watch what I order from now on.

I guess I understand. The publishers and manufacturers want some advance reviews on the site before the product is released and everyone's been procrastinating too much, including me. Sadly, it's "safe" choices from now on.

Now to finish Cronkite...

Books Finished Since March 1

 Lost States, Michael J. Trinklein
I first saw this book while wandering around Borders (::sob!::), but it was too expensive for me (even during the liquidation). So you can see why I pounced on it when it turned up on a remainder table.

Everyone knows about the fifty states—but how about the states that "almost were," or ones that died "a'borning"? Thomas Jefferson, for instance, envisioned a group of states in the northern Midwest called Sylvania, Michigania, Metropotamia, and Saratoga (among others). Utah began as territory three times as large, called "Deseret" (honeybee). Northern Californians/southern Oregonians have considered a new state called Sonoma. Did you know Cuba and Greenland were considered to become states?

These "almost" states range from the founding of the United States all the way through the 1950s. Trinklein's narrative is a little bit more tongue-in-cheek than I would have liked, but his explanations are sound and each "state" is illustrated with either an actual map of the era or handsome reproductions. If you're a geography fan like me, you'll enjoy it.

 Those Angry Days: Roosevelt, Lindbergh and America's Fight Over World War II, Lynne Olson
My father fought in World War II, and my mother saw her brothers and nephews become soldiers. I grew up on my mother's stories and would beg her to "tell about what happened the day of Pearl Harbor" over and over again. World War II was as real to me as my childhood days in the 1960s. My parents, like most kids in the 1920s, were awed by Charles Lindbergh's historic flight, but during World War II they never forgave him (nor other Americans like Henry Ford) for "siding with" the Germans and the isolationist faction. When I saw this book I knew I had to read it to get more information on the isolationist movement.

Olson's absorbing book examines the tense years of 1939 through 1941, when Great Britain was hanging on by their fingertips from the Nazi onslaught and desperate for any type of help, be it equipment or munitions (but hopefully manpower), from the United States. Americans had been badly bruised by "the war to end all wars." Having marched home triumphantly after making "the world safe for democracy," they were disillusioned by the war dead and injured, the continued squabbling for territory in Europe, and the nonpayment of the Allies' massive war debt, especially after the Depression began. The isolationists had no better spokesman than the heroic Lindbergh, already an intensely private man whose subsequent fame after his 1927 flight and the following horrific kidnapping and death of his son made him even more insular. Meanwhile, Franklin Roosevelt and many of his compatriots believed that if Great Britain fell, the United States was next on Hitler's plate.

In the midst of the emotional battles between those wanting to stay away from Europe's dance of death and those who wished to fight the expanding sphere of Nazism, Olson gives us fascinating glimpses into the past: the British agency who operated covertly from Rockefeller Center to convince Americans that Great Britain was worth supporting; the Americans like Lindbergh and Ford who saw something different in German expansion; sensitive Anne Morrow, who married and loved Charles Lindbergh, but was increasingly alienated by him; the use of Hollywood films to show the effects of rising Nazism; the eugenics movement that underpinned "the final solution," the appalling weakness of the American army right up to the day of Pearl Harbor. This is a sizable book, but one with a sweeping, appealing narrative that presents all sides of the arguments (and, in the end, notes a startling footnote to the life of Charles Lindbergh). An enjoyable read for those interested in history.

 Europe on 5 Wrong Turns a Day, Doug Mack
Doug is at a book festival waiting for  his mother when he comes upon a tattered copy of Arthur Frommer's classic Europe on $5 a Day, one of the first books that convinced ordinary Americans that "the Grand Tour" of old wasn't just a fancy of the rich. Instead of seeing the book as the joke he intended, Doug's mom is thrilled: in 1967 she traveled to Europe with a friend using the same book as a guide and had a wonderful time. So Doug Mack thought it would be interesting to take the vintage Frommer book to Europe and follow his mother's trip, to see what the landmarks and restaurants Frommer pointed out look like today.

This is a fun travel book, if a little melancholy, as Mack discovers that most of the beautiful free sights noted by Frommer are today covered with strip malls and house developments, much like the United States, and that the roles once played by natives of each country have been taken over by new immigrants. He visits the fleshpits of Amsterdam, explores the relics of a formerly divided Berlin, takes in the Oktoberfest spirit of Munich, encounters swamped sidewalks in Venice, and wall-to-wall tourists in Rome, not to mention making the obligatory visit to Mannekin-Pis (the fountain in Brussels with the little boy pee'ing—and, oh yeah, there's a little girl counterpart, too!). It's also the history of the Arthur Frommer books, from their genesis as a soldier's guide to returning to a peacetime Europe after World War II to the present.

I enjoyed reading this travelogue, although Mack's search for a romance and his dissatisfaction with not finding things as they were got a bit tiresome after a while. However, it was still worth reading for me, especially the glimpses of his mother's own trip in the 1960s.

 Told Under the Stars and Stripes, Association for Childhood Education International
These "Under the Umbrella" children's short story collections were published by the Association for Childhood Education, and this particular volume printed in 1945; I picked it up at the spring library book sale. I was reading it at the mechanic's, waiting for a tire change. The stories are all about immigrant children, or children moving from one region of the country from another, and the challenges they face. What is absolutely astounding about all of them is that although this was written in 1945, there are no prejudices shown in these stories as were still in other children's books of the time. Yes, immigrant parents speak in broken English, but it's not patronizing, and, most impressive, is that the two stories about African-American children do not include, from children and adults alike, the stereotypical "Amos and Andy" type malaprop language that was common in kids' books in those days involving "Negros." No one says "what dat?" or talks about "ghosties" or makes watermelon jokes as were still in the Bobbsey Twin books in the 1940s. Even the story that takes place in Harlem contains no shuffling Stepin Fetchits. Impressed. Really, really impressed.

 Seeds of Hope: The Gold Rush Diary of Susanna Fairchild, Kristiana Gregory
The Fairchild family sets out by ship to Oregon, but halfway there disaster strikes: Mrs. Fairchild is swept overboard during a storm, leaving a grieving Doctor Fairchild and the two teenage daughters, Clara and Susannah, alone. It is also enroute that news of the gold strike in California comes, and Susannah is baffled and horrified when her father quits the Oregon plan to become a gold miner.

Soon the Fairchilds find out the truth about the work needed to find gold. They encounter treachery and theft and betrayal, but make fast new new friends and conquer the hostile environment around them. A similar element of romance as in The Great Railroad Race creeps into this story, and it's pretty obvious when it happens. A workmanlike book that imparts all the requisite historical information.

 Trixie Belden and the Mystery at Mead's Mountain, Kathryn Kenny
When a friend of Mr. Wheeler buys a ski lodge, the Bob-Whites are thrilled to get an invitation to check out the slopes in Vermont. There's a rumor that there is a ghost at the lodge on Mead's Mountain, which piques the interest (naturally) of Trixie and Honey. They soon find that the lodge is beautiful and that the caretakers, Pat and Katie O'Brien, are model hosts. But things start to go wrong: they receive threatening notes from the "ghost," items are stolen out of the Bob-Whites rooms, and Trixie becomes suspicious of the new ski instructor.

Thankfully, there's no one pointing guns or knives at Bobby Belden in this outing. It's pretty much straight mystery, with many red herrings and still a bit of danger in the end. Would that they were all like this!

 The Lexicon, Steve Vander Ark
One of the most popular web outgrowths of the Harry Potter books was the extensive, exhaustive "Harry Potter Lexicon," an encyclopedia of the Potterverse. Drawings, photos, cross-reference, even conjecture found its way on the site. JK Rowling enthusiastically supported it.

However when a publisher came a'calling, Rowling objected to a book being published, as she was considering her own Harry Potter encyclopedia. So The Lexicon published is a much abridged item. It's still a fun read, but, sadly, not as complete as the original. I'd save it for a bargain purchase.

 The Great Railroad Race: The Diary of Libby West, Kristiana Gregory
This is the third "Dear America" book by Kristiana Gregory that I've read and I have come to the conclusion that I don't like her stories very much. She's not a dreadful writer or anything like that, but her books don't seem to have the luster others do.

Libby West's newspaperman father is determined to go west to cover the completion of the transcontinental railroad, and, since her mother will not let him go alone, the entire family, parents, Libby, and her precocious younger brother Joe travel to Utah. On the way they encounter both good people and bad (including a frightening outing to a "hell town" by Libby and a friend), are curious about the Mormons, and puzzle over why Mr. West is so patient with his grubby, smelly assistant Pete, an old friend from his Army days.

Gregory does a nice job describing the activity around the construction of the railroad and the conflicts and dangers of the day, but I just don't find her prose all that inspiring. YMMV.

 Serving Victoria, Kate Hubbard
Say "lady in waiting" or "queen's equerry," and what would  you imagine? I'm sure more than a few folks would envision a glamorous position doing a few light chores while enjoying the pleasures of a magnificent palace, dressing up in lovely clothing, and meeting with all sorts of interesting political and national figures.

Being one of the royal attendants to Queen Victoria, alas, was nothing like that. Her ladies-in-waiting endured freezing environments indoors (Victoria didn't allow her homes to be any warmer than 60 degrees) and out (long open carriage rides, even in winter), close supervision of their personal lives down to the books they could read, separation from their children, and dull evenings making small talk over meals or embroidery. Her male secretaries and assistants rarely saw their wives, were driven to ulcers, and had to endure the impertinence of more favored servants (like the Highlanders from Balmoral, who were pretty much constantly drunk). Everyone was expected to wear some sort of mourning clothes for many years following the death of Prince Albert, and as the queen grew older and lost more members of her family and household, there were memorial services almost every month at which black must be worn. Yet most of Victoria's entourage were devoted to her.

Hubbard weaves an absorbing narrative of the women and men who kept Victoria happy and the monarchy running smoothly, using material taken from personal diaries and letters. Considering the queen's whims and the strain under which the servants were required to perform, I'm surprised more of them didn't go to an early grave, as many of them suffered nervous breakdowns, and, at the very least, loneliness with regards to their family and lack of sleep. There were many details of the Queen's life that I had not read in other volumes (the Princess Royal's tantrums, for example, or about her Highland and Indian servants being favored over the rest—previously I thought only John Brown alone received such exalted status) and Hubbard writes in a brisk style that imparts many details without being dull. If you are curious about "backstairs at the palace," you should enjoy this volume.

 A Time for Courage: The Suffragette Diary of Kathleen Bowen, Kathryn Lasky
Girls today may not be able to grasp the idea of how few rights women had in the so-called "modern world" not so long ago. Those who react indignantly to the mistreatment of women by certain religious groups today would be shocked to realize that, before 1920, women in the United States not only could not vote, but in many states were unable to own property, and that in a divorce a husband almost always received custody of the children and it was the woman who was "ruined" by the act, even if the husband was abusive. Indeed, police often did not respond to domestic violence calls because the opinion was "she had it coming."

It is this world Kathleen Bowen is growing up in. Her mother, sister, and aunt are staunch suffragettes, used to being called "unnatural" by both men and women alike, peacefully marching with protest signs (no, that wasn't just in the 1960s) and being attacked and arrested. Her aunt's husband is against women's suffrage and her aunt and cousin lead a miserable life under his thumb. Meanwhile, World War I is raging in Europe and some women are longing to help in the war effort in more ways than knitting and rolling bandages.

Lasky lends a nice flavor to this 1917-set novel, although I didn't like it as much as Christmas After All. Her chapters about the force-feeding of women prisoners are pretty chilling. I did notice one basic historical error: she talks about children trick-or-treating. This custom did not start until the 1930s and was not really popular until after World War II. Before that, children and adults had Hallowe'en parties where they played games and told fortunes.

 His Majesty's Hope, Susan Elia MacNeal
MacNeal gets to a little more "meat" in this third installment of the story of Margaret "Maggie" Hope, a British-born but American-raised young woman with a talent for mathematics who is back in wartime Britain and will be going on her first undercover mission for the Allies. She is given two relatively "easy" tasks (if she can avoid being caught by the Nazis, of course) and has then been instructed to come home. But as always with Maggie, things are never easy. She discovers there is more important information she can glean by staying in Germany, even if it costs her her life—not to mention a face-to-face meeting with someone she had always been told was dead.

Those readers charmed but occasionally frustrated by Maggie's "Nancy Drew for adults" adventures will find this volume a bit more disturbing, as MacNeal addresses Hitler's original "final solution" of "humanely euthanizing the sick, the mentally ill (including homosexuals) and "deficient," and other undesirables through the eyes of a young German nurse who discovers the truth while caring for a little girl with Downs Syndrome. (Hitler's jeer that the Americans' concern about this policy makes them hypocrites due to the US theories of eugenics and treatment of people of color will truly make you wince.) If you are sensitive to this type of story, I would beware reading this book. Otherwise, Maggie's career continues apace as she discovers more family secrets and becomes toughened to the realities of war (especially to the results that her actions have to those connected with her). In addition, her homosexual friend is "outed," which bringing pain to him and his lover, and Maggie's own lover Hugh becomes embroiled in sensitive issues at Bletchley Park. MacNeal's modern references are getting fewer, but boy, do they toss you out of the story. When Maggie admires a friend's "baby bump" ("baby bump"? in 1940s Britain? seriously?), my jaw dropped. But I still raced through the pages to get to this installment's conclusion. Take that as you will.

The Spring Library Book Sale

This morning I got there late enough not to have to stand in line, but early enough. Didn't spend much time in the alphabetized fiction, but I never do as the volumes are heavily bestsellers. Heck, "P" should just be labeled "James Patterson" and "Jodi Picault." I'm always looking for Barbara Paul's Marian Larch mysteries (they have a character based on Paul Darrow's Avon character from Blake's 7), since I never saw them in bookstores. Miracles still do not occur. You also find fewer and fewer really old children's books anymore. And I did not luck out and find the companion book for my hardback of The Good Master (The Singing Tree).

I did hit the usuals: Literature, History, Biography, the Nature and Animals section, Science, Travel, even took a peek in Sociology, and then braved the Stroller Crowd at the children's books. But first I found the Christmas books on a cart right in front. They did have more of the "World Book" Christmas In... books, and, since I had wisely taken inventory of the ones I already had, I only picked up four: Spain, Brazil, Holy Land, and Russia. I also found something called The Christmas Almanack, which is a cheap paper but fat book with customs, countries, and stories and song references.

The rest of the tally:

• Letter from New York by Helene Hanff, based on broadcasts she did for the BBC
• Through the Children's Gate by Adam Gopnik
• A Year in the Maine Woods (which I thought I might already have and I did; ah, well, it was only $1.50)
• Usage and Abusage, an English usage manual by Eric Partridge
• Blue Latitudes by Tony Horowitz (following Captain Cook's voyage; I loved his A Voyage Long and Strange)
• Three "Dear America" books (the Gold Rush, transcontinental railroad, and the diary of a Jewish immigrant)
• A Dictionary of First Names
• Told Under the Stars and Stripes, tales of international children now living in the United States
• Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street by William S. Baring-Gould, which is supposed to be a classic

And a brand-new book I can't mention because it's intended as a gift.

James got home early and had happened to read my Facebook post about having passed up two books of literary criticism of Robert Heinlein. (Also passed up a book of short stories by Alexander Wolcott, one of the Algonquin Round Table writers.) He said he would have been interested in them. I said, "Well, we could always go back."

And so we did. The place was nearly empty, and the earlier crowds had scarfed up a ton of books; books that were in boxes on the floor this morning were on the tables now. (Yes, I do notice what's on the floor.) The Heinlein books were still there, though, and he found some other cool stuff, too, including a 1945 book of classic science fiction short stories.

The second tally (yeah, second, even with the books picked over):

• Christmas in Poland
• An Oxford Book of Christmas Stories (lovely illos here)
• Street Gang [the story of Sesame Street]
• An Italian Education by Tim Parks, sequel to his Italian Neighbors, which I already have
• A Year in Provence, because it's mentioned in every travel narrative I read
• The Mystery of the Black Diamonds by Phyllis A. Whitney, one of her teen mysteries
• Holiday Symbols, from all countries and religions (heck, and events; they even have the Stupid Bowl and the Indy 500)
• And finally 1950's The Little Princesses, a memoir by Marion Crawford, the beloved governess "Crawfie" of Lilibet and Margaret, otherwise known as Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret

I was reading Told Under the Stars and Stripes at the mechanic's, waiting for my tire change. These children's short story collections were published by the Association for Childhood Education, and this particular volume printed in 1945. What is absolutely astounding about all of them is that although this was written in 1945, there are no prejudices shown in these stories as were still in other children's books of the time. Yes, immigrant parents speak in broken English, but it's not patronizing, and, most impressive, is that the two stories about African-American children do not include, from children and adults alike, the stereotypical "Amos and Andy" type malaprop language that was common in kids' books in those days involving "Negros." No one says "what dat?" or talks about "ghostes" or makes watermelon jokes as were still in the Bobbsey Twin books in the 1940s. Even the story that takes place in Harlem contains no shuffling Stepin Fetchits. Impressed. Really, really impressed.

Oh, Look: Upcoming!

Little Women: An Annotated Edition

I have the annotated Anne of Green Gables and love it! This one is already on order.

[April 16: This came today! It's lovely!]