Books Finished Since June 1

• The Animated Man: A Life of Walt Disney, Michael Barrier
I have many biographies of Walt Disney, from Bob Thomas' approving volume to Marc Eliot's vilified one, and all take a different viewpoint of the man. Barrier's volume is interesting because as an animation enthusiast he discusses Disney in relation to his work—and where his absence of attention showed in his films. There are also many different sources than have been used in previous books, such as the interviews Barrier did when writing his book about animation, and the Disney magazine "The 'E' Ticket." I read several things that I had never heard before, such as that Disney hated the animation style of 101 Dalmatians, but, since he did not give much input into the film, he had no idea of what was going on until the film was about to be released. Barrier also has a few novel criticisms of Mary Poppins, usually considered a Disney masterpiece! I found the new material enjoyable, but still think no one book will ever completely define the complicated persona of Disney. It's best to read all the bios, good and bad, to get multiple views of him.

• Laura Ingalls Wilder: A Writer's Life, Pamela Smith Hill
Laura Ingalls Wilder once stated about her books: "All I have told is true, but it's not the whole truth." Anyone who has read anything about Wilder knows that the "Little House" series is not totally autobiographical, although it is based on true experiences. Many incidences in her life, including the birth of a brother who died at nine months of age, did not make it into the narrative. In 1930 Wilder wrote the first draft of Pioneer Girl, a memoir closer to her actual life. It was from this manuscript that the "Little House" books were born. Hill's absorbing book chronicles Wilder's original writing efforts, and how her daughter guided her (not actually wrote her books, as suggested in Holtz's Ghost in the Little House) into the creation of a more dramatic narrative. In addition, this volume supplies more details of Wilder's life that have not shown up in biographies, including the fact that a young couple and their newborn baby lived with the family during "the long winter," and that Laura was once almost assaulted by a drunken man whose wife she was caring for. Highly recommended if you are interested in the life of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

• The Ghost and the Femme Fatale, Alice Kimberly
I have a love-hate relationship with this series because, while I enjoy the two leads, young widow Penelope Thornton-McClure and the ghost of Jack Shepard, a hardboiled New York private eye who was killed in the 1940s in the doorway of what is now Buy the Book, the bookshop owned by Penelope and her Aunt Sadie and who is now tied to the place (although sometimes Jack's 40s slang gets old), the fictional town of Quindicott, Rhode Island, annoys me. It's populated by ersatz Yankee types that would be more at home in Cabot Cove, Maine, rather than in Rhode Island. When I read a regional mystery I like to feel like I'm in that place, and Kimberly doesn't capture Rhode Island at all. Imagine if you read a book set in NYC or San Francisco or New Orleans that didn't mention the landmarks, regional slang, or regional food and drink of that city? However, I did like this volume's plot, about a murder that takes place at a film noir festival, since the novel is stuffed with authentic old movie lore along with the fictional stars and studio created for the story.

• Escape Under the Forever Sky, Eve Yohalem
Your mother is the American ambassador to Ethiopia—sounds exciting, doesn't it? Lucy Hoffman doesn't think so. Except for her friends Tana and Teddy, she's an outcast at school since she's American, and she's confined at home a lot, partially due to having sneaked out of the house without permission a couple of times and partially because her mother fears for her. She must go to dull dinners with her mother, and only occasionally can explore the African countryside that so fascinates her. On the day she is allowed to visit her best friend again, Lucy and Tana sneak out to a nearby club to have some soda and listen to music. But Lucy is kidnapped and taken away to a shack deep in the bush, to be held for some exchange that she knows nothing about. What she does know is that at least one of her kidnappers is cruel and vicious. Should she wait for ransom, or try to escape? This is a page-turner of an adventure that painlessly imparts information about African wildlife and about the lives of those native to the country. Lucy's resourcefulness is well-balanced by her typical teenage interests, so she comes across as a real person rather than a nature savant. The Africa she paints is vivid and compelling. Only her mother seems a bit two-dimensional, but I believe that is because we are seeing her from Lucy's point of view. Highly recommended, especially for teens interested in wildlife or life in other countries.

• Rebecca: An American Girl Six-Book Series by Jacqueline Dembar Greene Meet Rebecca, Rebecca and Ana, Candlelight for Rebecca, Rebecca and the Movies, Rebecca to the Rescue, Changes for Rebecca)
I've been waiting for American Girl to come out with a series about a Jewish girl for years, and that wish has finally come true. Rebecca Rubin lives on the Lower East Side of New York City in 1914, the daughter of Russian immigrants. She clashes frequently with her older siblings, twins Sophie and Sadie, and brother Victor, but hero-worships her cousin Max, a former vaudeville performer who has become an actor in the new medium of the movies. In fact, Rebecca's big wish is to become an actress.

As a whole I enjoyed this series. The books strike the right line in showing Jewish culture. The Rubins live in a nicer apartment, but their immigrant cousins must make do with a tenement, and there are well-to-do Jews shown as well as classmates and neighbors of other nationalities. The Hanukkah story is particularly well done, with Rebecca concerned about being forced to make a Christmas decoration in school.

However, I thought the last couple of books were over the top. Rebecca and the Movies represented some clear wish fulfillment, but in the early days of the movies, men, women and children were often plucked from obscurity to appear in films, so it wasn't a stretch to believe it could happen to Rebecca. However, Rebecca's heroics in the Coney Island story seems wildly off-base, which is a shame because the rest of the Coney Island narrative is a great portrayal of the area parks in their heyday. The same goes for Rebecca's involvement in the strike in the final book. I could believe some aspects of it, but not the speech parts. Still, the stories are worth reading, especially Candlelight for Rebecca.

(There's one thing that did bother me: in one scene, Rebecca is shown in pajamas. I don't think pajamas for girls had caught on by 1914, especially in poorer households. Nightgowns and nightshirts were still mostly used.)

• Gifts of War, Mackenzie Ford
This is a promising volume that I wished I liked more. The time period (World War I era) is of interest to me and I did like the characters in general, especially the lead character's forthright sister, who becomes a nurse at the front. However, the dialog seemed more modern than I would expect of people in 1914-1919. I understand that in the war years women especially gained freedoms unheard of in previous years, but everyone appeared more outspoken than I thought they would be. Sadly, I thought what happened with the main characters were a bit soap-opera-ish. Also, while the author's descriptions paint lovely portraits of World War I-era England, there is more "showing" than "doing," long, lengthy narrations about things that happened, rather than the author showing the characters doing what is described in those narrations. My favorite parts of this novel, in fact, were the sequences that took place at the intelligence service where Hal Montgomery works, and how he and the others took the seeming minutia that they read in German newspapers and made educated guesses about how this related to the German war effort. The sequence where he and two other operatives stalk a suspected spy is also well done.

• Flyaway, Suzie Gilbert
Especially if you've ever owned a pet bird, filled a bird feeder daily and watched them eat and interact, or birdwatched, you will love this well-narrated, often humorous, but frequently heartbreaking story of Gilbert, who, with the help of an incredibly patient husband, two wonderful kids, and friends who are bird rehabilitators and veterinarians, begins rehabbing and releasing wild birds. Gilbert puts you in the midst of the action, whether it be "bopping" with her kids and pet parrots, rescuing a hawk in a tree, lecturing cat owners about letting their pets outside, feeding baby birds, or dealing with sick crows, sparrows, doves, and even seagulls. I couldn't do what Gilbert does—the dead mice and the mealworms would do me in—but this book struck deep into my heart and I admire and cheer on all the bird rehabbers like Gilbert and her friends. If you enjoyed books like Dewey and Wesley the Owl, this book should definitely be on your list of things to read.

• Death at Gallows Green, Robin Paige
In this second novel about the brash, progressive Katharine Ardleigh, late of the United States and now living in her late aunt's home of Bishop's Keep, one of the servants from Kate's home and her beau find the body of a murdered police constable on their stroll. The man was a friend of fellow police officer Edward Laken, who has Sir Charles Sheridan, photographer and amateur sleuth, take photos of the crime scene. Thus begins a raveled mystery involving the late constable's wife and child, a charge of poaching, missing emeralds, Laken being removed from the case in favor of an inexperienced officer, a foxy man named Russell Tod, a barn, and the investigations of Kate Ardleigh and her new friend, a shy, animal-loving artist named Beatrix Potter. Another enjoyable cozy from the pen of Susan and Bill Albert under the name Robin Paige. I wonder if Albert got the idea of doing her Beatrix Potter mystery novels from this story.

• Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature, Linda Lear
If you have been a fan of Beatrix Potter's "little books," or have watched the film Miss Potter (which was, predictably, romanticized from the real tale) and wanted to know more about the little girl from Bolton Gardens who became a best-selling author, but who reached the happiest portion of her life when she moved permanently to the Lake District of England on her beloved farms. Lear's biography is comprehensive but eminently readable, a vivid portrayal of Potter's life and times. Besides the writing, illustration, and publishing of "the little books," her tragically short first engagement, and her later life with husband William Heelis, the book also talks about Potter's little-known involvement with the investigation and illustration of fungi, and her tireless efforts to preserve the farmland of the Lake District from turning into communities of cheaply-built vacation homes. A very enjoyable read, even if you haven't touched a "Peter Rabbit book" in over 40 years!

• Mr. Monk Goes to Germany, Lee Goldberg
When his psychiatrist goes to Germany for a conference, Adrian Monk falls apart. He finally decides to follow Dr. Kroger to Europe, with a not exactly reluctant Natalie (who's still irritated at the doctor because of his effect on her Hawaiian vacation—see Mr. Monk Goes to Hawaii). They arrive in the fairy-tale village of Rohr, where, of course, they almost immediately stumble upon a murder. This is an amusing book, although the identity of the initial murderer is no surprise. There was one plot convention involving the local police force that has been used a couple of times before and is...well, getting a little old. On the other hand, Natalie's "revenge" was a hoot. Much fun if you are a Monk fan.

• Franklin & Lucy, Joseph E. Persico
I have been wanting this book since its appearance in hardcover and it did not disappoint, although there are some factual errors that have been documented in the Amazon.com reviews, so I will not repeat. While the title is Franklin & Lucy and chronicles Franklin Roosevelt's lifelong love for Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd, it is also about all the other women in his life, from his betrayed wife Eleanor, whom nevertheless formed a working partnership with him, to secretary Missy LeHand, who not only served at his secretary, but who was his hostess and accompanied Roosevelt everywhere, to his strong-minded mother Sara, as well as touching on ladies like Dorothy Schiff, Princess Martha of Norway, and his cousins "Daisy" Suckley and Polly Delano. Although I have many books about the Roosevelts, this one still provided facts I did not know: for instance, I had no idea that Lucy Mercer worked in the Navy Department for Roosevelt after being fired as Eleanor's social secretary. Persico also talks more in this book about Franklin Roosevelt's health than in any other biography I have read, except for Hugh Gallagher's FDR's Splendid Deception.

• Clover Twig and the Magical Cottage, Kate Umansky
This was a delightful book to read, as the humor harkens back to my childhood: a smidge of Mary Poppins, a bit of The Phantom Tollbooth, akin to the "Freddy" books. Add touches from more modern books as in Lynn Britney's Christine Kringle and the humor from the Harry Potter novels and it might come out like this tale of practical Clover, the eldest (almost eleven) in an impoverished family (lots of siblings and a woodcutter dad who hangs out more at the local tavern), who takes a job cleaning house for Mrs. Demelza Eckle, the local witch, who lives in a ramshackle cottage with a talking gate, a mysterious locked cupboard, and her large black cat, Neville. Clover manages to keep her head, even through encounters with a clumsy boy named Wilf--and the vengeful plans of Mrs. Eckle's vengeful, fashion-conscious sister. The text is peppered with "squiggly" illustrations that remind one again of Tollbooth. Much enjoyed...but with the I-Pod/netbook/Barbie crowd, is there still a market for nostalgic tales such as these? I hope so, as they would be missing a treat.

• Death at Daisy's Folly, Robin Paige
Kate Ardleigh, late of America and now living in England in a house she inherited from a cousin, is invited to a weekend party at the home of Frances "Daisy" Brooke, Countess of Warwick, but more well-known for being the mistress of the Prince of Wales, the future Edward VI. Kate is uncomfortable when she discovers Sir Charles Sheridan will be there, since she is certain Charles loves her and she does him—but what would his family think of his marrying an American, who is even more scandalously a mystery writer? In the meantime Sheridan has found out his brother is dying and he will inherit the family estate: would Kate want to live with the stultifying routine of being wife to a titled lord?

Then a stableboy dies, and since the Prince does not want a scandal, he asks Charles to look into the affair. When Kate is enlisted to help, she finds out what lurks behind the seemingly effortless gayity of the upper class: personal secrets, hidden history, jealousies and hatred...and the possibilities of another death.

These are great period cozies that I took a while to get into. Each, except for the first, contains a "kiss with history," as Quantum Leap used to call it, with the story involving 19th and early 20th century personas like "Bertie," Daisy, Beatrix Potter, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, etc.

• Death at Devil's Bridge, Robin Paige
Sir Charles Sheridan and Kathryn Ardleigh, late of New York and now of Bishop's Keep in the English countryside, are now newlyweds, having been married quietly before Sir Charles' mother could be horrified by the prospect of having an Irish-American as a daughter-in-law, and are living at Bishop's Keep, where they have been persuaded to hold an automobile meet and balloon ascension on their estate in conjunction with the village fête. But there are dark feelings surrounding the affair: the villagers think one of the motorcars was responsible for the death of an elderly neighbor, the drivers and backers involved in the auto meet are at each other's throats, and the local squire is incensed when Kate Sheridan's young friend Patsy Marsden is paying so much attention to rakish Charles Rolls.

This edition has some fascinating facts about the early days of motoring, when it was a dirty, dangerous, and precarious business, mixed well with the cozy setting of Bishops Green and its servants, who are frequently more interesting than the two leads. Recommended for cozy fans.

Books Finished Since May 1

• St. Nicholas, 1898, Volume 1, November 1897-April 1898
Some good articles that explain how people lived back then, including "The Quick Horse," a nonfiction story about fire horses, trained to be quick to respond rather than speedy; "The Christmas Ship" (fiction about two girls aboard a whaling ship at Christmas time and how a tree and gifts are managed for them), and "The Story of the Wheel" (which is a history of the bicycle, "wheel" being the 19th century moniker for bicycles). Because of my ancestry, I also found "Bell-Towers of Italy" quite good, and here found the original of "Cousin Jane's Mistake," a story of exchanged gifts to two girls accidentally exchanged by an elderly relative to two girls. This is very reminiscent of the later "Fir Tree Cousins," and I believe was also reprinted in one of the Joe Wheeler Christmas in My Heart books.

Some enjoyable serials in this sequence: the adventures of nine boys through the seasons in "The Lakerim Athletic Club," with fellows with nicknames like "Quiz" and "History," plus two battling red-headed twin brothers; "With the Black Prince," about the English, Welsh, Scots and Irish serving with Edward the Black Prince, one of the innumerable medieval stories that were popular back then, the first half of the very long "Two Biddicut Boys," the adventures of two country boys named Quint and Cliff, on the trail of the unscrupulous "gentleman" named Winslow, who sold them a trick dog named "Sparkler," who has been trained to break away and return to his master to be sold again (apparently considered one of the great serials in the annals of St. Nicholas, enough for Henry Steele Commanger to reprint it in one of his anthologies about the magazine); the very beginning of that little girl's delight "Denise and Ned Toodles," concerning a wealthy child who is given a beloved black pony she names Ned Toodles and of their marvelous playhouse, and lastly the fantasy story "Through the Earth," a surprising effort that uses scientific principles known at the time to propel a car, with a young man who volunteered, through the earth from Australia to New York. Fascinating.

• Harlan Ellison's Watching, Harlan Ellison
Harlan would probably hate me. I like things he considers childish or idiotic, enjoy movies he despises for their stupidity, don't agree with some of his world views, not to mention his attitude to Christmas cards and cats. :-) But I enjoy Harlan's essays. They are wonderful rants that contain, even with things I disagree on, truths. He is infuriating, insightful, obscene, thoughtful, egotistical, enlightening, enraging. Most of all I admire his language: whether in tirade or review or a look behind the scenes, he uses the vocabulary of an adult (and I'm not referring to his penchant for the obscene or scatological). He assumes his readers have a brain hiding behind the face they show to the world.

Ostensibly these are essays about the art of the movies. Be prepared for tangents. Lots of tangents, in a cascade of words.

Not to mention anyone who dislikes Robocop is all right with me. :-)

(As a sequel to his Glass Teat duology, I would love to read Harlan's take on modern television: American Idol and the rest of the crowd, today's dramas/comedies, things like Jon and Kate Plus 8—although I have a feeling the vocabulary would...well, be a tad explosive...LOL.)

• Gaby and the New Money Fraud, Paul Berna
This is actually the third book in the series (the British copyright is listed as 1971, but the book was actually published in 1961) and follows immediately before Mystery of Saint-Salgue. It is four years after the events of Horse Without a Head/Street Musician. Gaby and Zidore's schooldays have ended and both are at work, but the gang is still fast friends (well, with some conflicts, as the story proves). Since Gaby is of driving age, they decide buy a large used car that they all can travel in. As Marion and the other kids struggle to provide additional money and Gaby studies for his driver's license, an unlikely vehicle presents itself, as well as a way to earn money.

Once again the ingenious gang of ten has found a way to accidentally get involved in skullduggery, and once again Marion's smarts are called into play, and her dogs become involved. Despite their aging, the Gang of Ten are as entertaining as ever, and the story is very reminiscent of Horse at one point. It also sets up the events in Saint-Salgue nicely, not only with the acquisition of the van, but hinting of Fernand's secrecy with their holiday destination.

(I did note a "mistake" in the English translation, due to the fact that it wasn't published in GB until 1971...it states Gaby's birth year as 1952. It's actually 1942, since the book takes place ten years earlier.)

• The Mysterious Benedict Society, Trenton Lee Stewart
At the urging of his tutor, an orphan named Reynie responds to a newspaper ad asking "Are you a gifted child looking for special opportunities?" The odd test he takes is only the beginning, for then he meets other children he will shortly be involved with: "Sticky" Washington, a timid boy with a photographic memory; Kate Wetherall, bright, optimistic, and acrobatic; and tiny Constance Contraire, stubborn, annoying, and always sleepy, not to mention the mysterious Mr. Benedict of the title.

As it works in these novels (like Fardell's gang in 7 Professors and sequels, the Pevensie kids of Narnia fame, Kiki Strike and her compatriots, even Harry/Ron/Hermione, etc.), the four children are the only ones who can thwart the sinister doings at an island-bound school. I found this tough going at the beginning because, while the children all have unique qualities—Sticky's knowledge, Reynie's problem-solving skills, Kate's ingenious McGyver-like talents, and Constance's stubbornness—they aren't much more personalized than that, besides the fact Reynie, Sticky, and Kate all have loneliness issues. What kept me with this story was the sinister plot, which involved, in part, subliminal messages being telepathically transmitted via television so that the news shows are always broadcasting messages about an Emergency. And it struck me that this is already happening: there is always a crisis on the news today, even ordinary rainstorms and snow showers and windy weather is greeted with the outcry of "severe weather." I only wish this real-life stream of continuing crises could be thwarted by a real "Benedict Society"! Anyway, the plot is inventive and the kids do grow on you after awhile, even if their personalities are not fully realized.

• Night Watch, Stephen Kendrick
One of the last of the books I bought from the Dollar General spinner (they've replaced the spinner with more expensive books). Some of these turn out better than others. I have enjoyed Sherlock Holmes since I saw the film The Seven-Per-Cent Solution when it was released. I enjoy Holmes' pastiches as well. This one was...okay. On Christmas Day Holmes and Watson, at the request of Mycroft Holmes, are summoned to a church where a murder has taken place. The murder needs to stay under wraps because of the nature of a meeting between religious leaders taking place at the church. One of the religious figures there is a very young priest named Father Brown (as in the Chesterton character). The murder involves some complicated moments, but it doesn't ever quite gel as a Holmes story (I can't speak for the Brown portion, as I have not read any Father Brown). In addition, there were typographic vagaries that drove me crazy, hyphenated words in the middle of lines. Its obvious that this was written on a word processor that puts in hyphenation and then no one proofread the manuscript to take out the unneeded ones. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.

• Christmas Sucks, Joanne Kimes
Sometimes when you get a bargain book you luck out. And then there's this book. I don't mind unorthodox Christmas humor—I Saw Mommy Kicking Santa Claus was very funny—but a humor book about getting what you want out of Christmas rather than falling for the buying/expectation traps shouldn't be considered funny just because she uses a bunch of swear words and insulting humor. Not worth anyone's time unless you like this type of humor.

• Far Traveler, Rebecca Tingle
This was a nice bargain book acquisition, a young-adult novel about a 10th century teenage girl. Ælfwyn is the shy, studious daughter of a former woman warrior who is the sister of King Edward of Wessex. When her mother dies of a fever she is faced with the choice of marrying an older man in an act that will bind his kingdom to her uncle's or she can be cloistered in an abbey. Hating either option, Ælfwyn flees on her mother's last gift, a warhorse named Winter she can barely ride, and poses as a scop (storyteller) to make her living. But the reader of stories finds it harder to tell them, and then she becomes embroiled with men hoping to overthrow her uncle. I found this a page-turner of a story and found the characters enjoyable.

• American Made: The Enduring Legacy of the WPA, Nick Taylor
My parents were teenagers and then adults during the Depression and I grew up on their stories, plus I lived in a city where many of the bridges and roads were of WPA vintage, so I enjoyed this sprawling volume that begins in 1932 as the Depression reaches its ultimate depth and ends in 1943 when it dissolves during the heated days of World War II. In between lie the politics, the machinations, the accusations of laziness and Communist infiltration, the edifices and the works of the Works Progress (later Works Projects) Administration. My favorite parts of this book are when the author concentrates on one person or one project within the whole, whether it is the Timberline Lodge in Oregon or LaGuardia Airport in New York, a packhorse librarian or an African-American writer, the Federal Theatre Project in which Orson Welles and John Housman mount a modern-day Haiti-set version of Macbeth or hot lunches for children. It is also a portrait of Harry Hopkins, the man who was in charge of the WPA for most of its life. This is crammed with information, but even at its most political is never dry. Highly recommended for American history buffs!

• Revolution at the Table, Harvey Lowenstein
As the century came to a close, Americans were found to be eating unhealthy diets full of fats, with few vegetables in evidence. Not the 20th century, the 19th. Lowenstein has created a very readable sociological study of the eating habits of Americans from 1880, when fried foods for breakfast and meat three times a day was the norm, through the 1930s. On the way, food fads such as Kelloggs' cereal diets are touched upon, plus the actual weaning of Americans away from good food like whole grain breads to processed foods like white bread and bleached flour with the help of the government, formula feeding of babies over breastfeeding, the discovery of how different foods fueled the body and then of "vitamines" that changed eating habits, schools of cookery designed to lure ethnic families away from their own diets and onto "real American food," and more interesting facts about how the American diet changed in only fifty years.

• Death at Bishop's Keep, Robin Paige
Mystery writer Susan Wittig Albert and her husband collaborate on this first of their "Victorian mysteries." Spirited, orphaned, half-Irish/half-English Kathryn Ardleigh, who secretly writes sensational fiction under a pseudonym to keep the wolf from the door, is summoned to England by an aunt she didn't know she had to work as a secretary and translator for confidential papers of a secret society her aunt belongs to. Upon arriving in England, Kate makes friends with Eleanor Marston, her brother Bradford, and Bradford's friend, Sir Charles Sheridan, amateur photographer, who has recently taken some photos of a mysterious body found at an archeological dig. Kate is welcomed to her job by her pleasant Aunt Sabrina, but must put up with not only her unpleasant Aunt Beatrice Jaggers, who also lives at the family estate of Bishop's Keep, but an undercurrent of rebellion going on with the servants due to "Aunt Jaggers" iron regime, and soon becomes embroiled with the mystery of the body, the secret society her aunt belongs to...and with Sir Charles, who is struck by her independence and intelligence. This is the first of a series of "cozies" with the usual unconventional heroine, but it's a really fun read and the characters are appealling, from the highborn Marstons to the Bishop's Keep servants and ingenious Kate and Charles themselves. Recommended for cozy fans.

• Paradox of Plenty, Harvey Lowenstein
Lowenstein continues his examination of American diet habits from the Depression to the organic food revolution of the 1980s. In the process he examines exactly how many of the malnourished "ill-fed" in the Depression were truly suffering from malnutrition, how proposed food rationing caused hoarding in World War II, how the American public came to mistrust the government that was supposed to be protecting their nutritional interests, how the processed food that was supposed to be wonderful for us turned out not to be, how vitamin supplements and women's constant dieting came to the fore, and the rise and fall of restaurant cuisine, critics, and chefs. Like his previous book, this is immensely readable and a fascinating overview of the American diet.

• "Just a Housewife": The Rise & Fall of Domesticity in America, Glenna Matthews
In 1850, women were the moral and domestic center of the home. Men went out and made the money, but it was the housewife who made life comfortable for all, who nourished and neatened, and "civilized," as Huck Finn put it, both the men and the children. In literature she was second only to God. By 1950 the housewife was being reviled as a do-nothing bitch who passed her days in idleness, shopping and eating orgies, and nagging. What happened in between? Matthews describes how the rise of labor-saving equipment, processed and prepared foods, and other modern inventions to take the drudgery away from the housewife also took away the respect she had previously garnered. This tied in quite nicely with the Lowenstein books, as there are several chapters on prepared and processed foods and how they changed the American palate. Some great insights on the domestic writers of the day (and their writings), including Charlotte Perkins Gilman, the author of the creepy short story "The Yellow Wallpaper" (which illustrates what happens when a woman takes the "rest cure" so prescribed in those days) and Marion Harland, the mother of Albert Payson Terhune.

• The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, Alan Bradley
"Buckshaw had been the home of...the de Luces[,] since time out of mind." Living there in 1950 are widower Colonel de Luce, avid stamp collector and World War II veteran, and his three daughters, Ophelia, seventeen, a typical teenager; Daphne, thirteen, a bookworm; and the eleven-year-old, Flavia...wise beyond her years and enamored of chemistry—especially poisons. It is Flavia who find the dead body in the garden, after witnessing her father react to a dead bird on the back doorstep, a snipe with a stamp stuck on its beak, and an argument between him and a stranger. It is Flavia who sets out on her trusty bicycle "Gladys" to the local library and the hostelry and other places to solve the mystery of the man in the garden, and who gets into more trouble than she ever bargained for.

Flavia is simply delightful, although I must confess that after a while I got tired of her similes! If Wednesday Addams had a best friend, it would probably be Flavia de Luce (who would also be a perfect candidate for Ronald Searle's St. Trinian's school). She is diabolical, clever, humorous and even tender at times, but always worth following, along with her slightly dysfunctional family; unpredictable Dogger, now a groundskeeper but once a soldier who served with her father; police Inspector Hewitt and his assistants; and the inhabitants of the small English town of Bishop's Lacey. This description does no justice to the book. If you enjoy precocious, but never precious, children, English towns, and offbeat mysteries, this one is for you.

The Newest American Girl

And she's Jewish!

Rebecca Rubin is a Russian Jew who lives on the Lower East Side of New York City in 1914. Her dream is to become an actress in those new things, "the movies."

Meet Rebecca and her family

New York Times article about Rebecca

Jerusalem Post article about Rebecca (note: this one has some spoilers about the stories)

Boston.com article about Rebecca (what's with these nitwits complaining that she's Jewish?)

USA Today article about Rebecca

MSNBC article about Rebecca (geez, what's with all the emphasis on the doll? it's the books that are important)

The Jewish Week article about Rebecca (more spoilers!)

CNN.com article about Rebecca (sigh...again with the doll...)

The Kids in the Castle

Anyone remember the scene in My Friend Flicka where Ken is looking at his books and notes one called Castle Blair, about a bunch of kids in an Irish castle? Always wondered if it was a real book, and yes, here it is, from 1879, no less!

All Our Tribbles Are Small Ones

Did you know that David Gerrold's book about the making of the Star Trek episode "The Trouble With Tribbles" is online as a PDF file?

The Tail End (But Not Really) of the Horse

It's only been a few months since I found that there were three sequels to Paul Berna's The Horse Without a Head (later made into a amazingly faithful Disney adaptation). In early April I bought what I thought were the second and third book in the series on e-Bay. Surfing about Amazon.co.uk last week I found the fourth book, Gaby and the New Money Fraud, at the low price of £2 (an amazingly low price since the only other copies I could find were going for between $44 and $131 on Amazon Marketplace and £9 and £106 otherwhere on Amazon.co.uk—no cheaper than $18 on bookfinder.com!). At first it looked like the vendor didn't ship outside the U.S., although the notation said "International Delivery available," so I e-mailed the person a note and they said they would ship to the States and did whatever they had to do at their end so I could order.

Well, it has arrived here within eight days! Not only that, but a bigger surprise: it's actually the third book in the series. The copyright date is down as 1971, but it was published in 1961 in France. It explains how the kids got the van that they drive in Mystery of Saint-Salgue and a mystery surrounding it. Inspector Sinet also appears in the story, although he was missing from The Street Musician.

(Postscript: It's been very enlightening to read this book "after the fact," as it also provides the setup for Fernand's destination.)

Books Finished Since April 1

The sort of thing you think of at 1 a.m. when you're still not asleep yet: I've changed the title of these posts since the old one wasn't accurate. Many books I've listed were finished in a certain month, but half or more was read in the previous month—or sometimes even earlier, so it wasn't exactly accurate to say they were read in a certain month...yes, definitely one of those things you think of at 1 a.m. when you can't sleep...LOL...

• Kiki Strike: The Empress's Tomb, Kirsten Miller
The improbable, intrepid and ingenious Irregulars are back...and there's trouble brewing: Ananka's been on so many midnight forays that her grades are suffering and her parents are threatening to send her to a farm-style boarding school. In the meantime, Oona's deepest secret has been revealed and now the girls—except for Kiki—are eyeing her warily, wondering if she's about to turn traitor. Into the mix is a find in the Shadow City, trafficking in slaves, giant squirrels running amok in the city, and the tomb of a Chinese empress who is believed to have been poisoned as a traitor. Can the Irregulars triumph? Can Ananka escape her fate—and help misfit Molly at her school at the same time? Like the first Kiki Strike book, this is a fast, funny, page-turner of an adventure. Miller is very convincing in showing Oona's schism within the group, to the point that it becomes truly worrisome. Secretive Betty also becomes more fully realized. In addition, Miller takes some pointed, not-at-all-subtle pokes at overachieving parents who push their children to be what they are not. Highly recommended.

• Main Street: Keeping Secrets, Ann M. Martin
In this next volume in the "Main Street" series, the best friends quartet of sisters Flora and Ruby, plus Olivia and Nikki, are excited to find out that the new family in the Row Houses contains a girl their age. Willow seems friendly and smart, but what's with her odd mom? And why won't she ever invite them over? Along with the fun of preparing for Hallowe'en as well as a dog parade, Martin also sensitively touches on mental illness. The ongoing mystery involving Flora and Ruby's Aunt Allie remains to be solved, so stay tuned for the next installment.

• Small Favor, Jim Butcher
Harry Dresden still owes faery Queen Mab a favor...and the favor she wants him to do is hunt down "Gentleman Johnny" Marcone, a mobster that Harry has tangled with before. He's been kidnapped and exposed to the possessed coins of the Denarians. But someone else doesn't want Marcone found and sends an increasingly large—and violent—gruff (a supernatural goat; think "three billy goats gruff") on Harry's trail.

I enjoyed this book, but it almost takes your breath away, going from one bit of action to the next. The number of players in the game—Harry's allies, Harry's enemies, other characters from previous books—are so many that it's hard to keep up with all of them. At least for once Harry seems to have gotten a happy ending, but I expect it to be a brief respite. It always is.

• A Tangled Web, Kathryn Reiss
This is the last of the new set of American Girls mysteries, featuring Julie and a new girl in school who isn't exactly what she seems to be. Clues are planted so blatantly that a lot of the "mystery" is given away. There are some touching sequences involving Vietnam veterans, however, and Thanksgiving preparations that help the story along.

• Tell Me Where It Hurts, Dr. Nick Trout
I was looking forward to this book being in paperback, as I have collected books about veterinarians' experiences ever since I read James Herriot's books years ago. But now that I've finished with it, it's been consigned to the donate pile. I wasn't totally disappointed with it like I was with the uneven narrative of Best Friends, nor did I mind Trout's insertions of veterinarian realities between the animal stories, but after a while I got tired of his little fantasies about what he should have said or should have done. Once or twice wouldn't have been bad, but these often snarky comments dot the text like one too many horseflies. I would have preferred more animal experiences to Dr. Nick's litany of what he should have said.

• Eleanor Vs. Ike, Robin Gerber
Could a woman have won the Presidency in 1952? That's the premise of this interesting alternative history novel where Adlai Stevenson has a heart attack at the Democratic National Convention and the best candidate left is Eleanor Roosevelt (with Sam Rayburn as her running mate). Gerber does a great job of recreating 1950s politics (there are almost too many explanations of who these people are, I'm sure intended for modern readers who have minimal knowledge of the real 1950s, rather than the Happy Days view of the era), and I found the subsequent campaigns and characters believable. My only two pauses: a silly "kiss with history" where Eleanor is introduced to a little girl named Hillary Rodham and a piece of narrative on the convention floor when "paramedics" go to Stevenson's side. The "paramedic" did not exist in the 1950s and it brings the narrative back to the present with a thump. Otherwise this is recommended.

• The Street Musician, Paul Berna
In the first of three sequels to Berna's Horse Without a Head, taking place mere months after the events of that novel, Gaby's gang of ten are looking for something to do now that clumsy Tatave has wrecked the headless horse for good. Marion ("the girl with the dogs") suggests that they keep an eye on the townsfolk of Louvigny and perhaps a mystery will surface. Soon Fernand is wondering what's going on at a local trucking firm co-owned by two English brothers. And when Marion gives a dog away, supposedly to a disabled man, why does the animal surface some time later, dyed solid black and accompanying a blind street musician who picks a different street each day to ply his talent, even those areas unprofitable to him?

Although all the children—Gaby, Fernand, Marion, Zidore, Tatave, Criquet, Juan, Berthe, Melie, and little Bonbon—have their share in the adventures, it's very obvious that Marion in Berna's favorite, and she gets the lion's share of the action. This is an unusual of mystery and turns out quite differently from the first cops-and-robbers type action of the original story. I'm glad I discovered there were sequels and was able to follow up with this group of children!

• The New York Public Library Book of Popular Americana, Tad Tuljea
Yep, it's a reference book, but I read it. Found mistakes in it, too. :-)

• The Mystery of Saint-Salgue, Paul Berna
In the  third  (see May 6 entry) fourth story of Gaby's gang of ten, several years have passed. Gaby is now old enough to drive and he and the other children have pitched in to buy a 1930s vintage Citroen van, which they are taking on a three-weeks camping trip to the Riviera (if rickety old "Calamity Jane" lasts that long!)—along with eleven of Marion's dogs! Their first night of camping, they run into an older Canadian couple, Charley and Betty, who are from a village in Manitoba called "Saint-Salgue" and who are heading for the village of the same name in France. The moment they speak to the Canadians, the children are followed, accused of theft, have "Calamity Jane" vandalized, and are set on by the police. Puzzled, but perceptive as always, they realize it all has something to do with the mysterious "Saint-Salgue," especially after they discover Fernand has been keeping a secret from them. While two of Marion's dogs are prominent in the story, the tale belongs largely to Zidore, who keeps the van running and the troupe on an even keel. Again, another offbeat and fascinating story from Berna.

• St. Nicholas, Volume 19, Part 1, November 1891-April 1892
I haven't finished a St. Nicholas volume in a while, and this one was quite good. I was most absorbed in following the fortunes of "Tom Paulding," a boy who is searching for for Revolutionary treasure to help his widowed mother and young sister, which has a fascinating look at the development of upper Manhattan, a spot which, at that time, was being turned from farmland into urban area. A second, tamer, serial is "Two Girls and a Boy," concerning a well-bred child named Mildred who becomes friends with rather wild siblings Leslie and Charles. There is one quite funny story about a little boy who arranges a "Bull Fight" with his aggressive pet rabbit standing in for the bull, and some true life stories about "Electric Lights at Sea," penguins, and "Russian Children in the Ural Mountains." Less interesting is an Alice's Adventures in Wonderland knockoff called "The Admiral's Caravan" in which a little girl named Dorothy slips into a fantasy world where, like in Alice, all sorts of improbable things happen and the characters take idioms seriously (these types of stories were quite common then).

A study in opposites come from "Strange Corners of Our Country," which, although spattered with the usual bigotry twaddle of that time—"savages," "queer customs," "dirty homes," etc.—is a fascinating portrait of parts of the country over 100 years ago, including customs of Native American tribes, including an account of a real "snake dance" rather than a movie gussied-up ceremony. Presented in the same volume is "Tee-Wahn folk stories," Native American folk tales, which are presented in a respectful manner, including the story of the revenge of the fawns (on the wolves who killed their parents) and the tale of the man who married the moon.

Lastly is Laura E. Richards' leisurely memoir of her childhood, narrating the plays and travels of her family. I have read several of Richards' stories, including Captain January, about a little girl who lives at a lighthouse, most famously turned into a Shirley Temple film, and the books in her "Three Margarets" series, but I did not realize who she was until getting about halfway through her memoir to discover her father was Samuel Gridley Howe, founder of the Perkins Institute of the Blind in Boston (Laura Bridgeman, the deaf-and-blind girl who served as an inspiration for Helen Keller, was trained to communicate by Howe, and was named after Laura Richards) and her mother was Julia Ward Howe, who wrote the words to "Battle Hymn of the Republic."

Even if you don't know Captain January or the "Three Margarets" series, you may be familiar with Richards from the following, delightful nonsense verse which I remember reading in school:

"Eletelephony"

Once there was an elephant,
Who tried to use the telephant--
No! no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone--
(Dear me! I am not certain quite
That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk
Entangled in the telephunk;
The more he tried to get it free,
The louder buzzed the telephee--
(I fear I'd better drop the song
Of elephop and telephong!)

• Rick Steves' Europe Through the Back Door 2008
A companion book to the Rick Steves' Europe series that shows mainly on PBS stations. Steves encourages "back door" travel—not going to high-priced hotels and seeing only the regulation sites, or moping on the beach, but staying at smaller places, eating local food, and interacting with the folks of whatever area you are visiting. He makes it sound all deliciously wonderful to live out of a backpack for two weeks, tramp old marketplaces and bicycle through the countryside, sleep at hostels and agratourismas—which, probably, it is. There are also tips on best times of the year to travel, how to pack, the best time for visiting popular attractions, and even little sidebars about unusual places to visit: the countryside of Turkey, locations with Holocaust memorials, the former Eastern Bloc countries. As much fun to read as the television show is to watch. If you don't like Steves' television series or can't stand his puns, YMMV!

• Lies Across America: What Our Historic Sites Get Wrong, James W. Loewen
Loewen crosses the United States from west to east, reporting on inaccuracies in historical markers, whether they glorify people who were not what the marker claimed, or inaccurately describe an historic event which took place on the site, or do not mention significant historic events that took place on a site, instead perhaps concentrating on room furnishings, narrowly-described ways of life, and other insignificant details. It makes for absorbing reading (I did spot at least one mistake), but I'm sure it raises controversies as well.

About two-thirds of the way through the book I was impressed; he was getting through his text without mentioning Gone With the Wind. Alas, I thought too soon...

For Fans of Historical Mystery Books

Crime Thru Time

Great site for historical mystery fans, with a timeline of eras and what books have been written within that era with links to the authors. There is also a juvenile section, and a discussion group on Yahoo.

Johnnie At Last!

Has anyone ever read all the "Katy" books by Susan Coolidge and become frustrated at this paragraph as What Katy Did Next opens—

It was nearly two years since a certain visit made by Johnnie to Inches Mills, of which some of you have read in Nine Little Goslings.

—not to mention the referral to Miss Inches ("Mamma Marion") at the end of In the High Valley? What was Nine Little Goslings? Was there another Carr family novel?

It was years before I found out that Nine Little Goslings was not a "Katy" book, but a collection of short stories by Miss Coolidge, one of which was about Katy and the Carr family, specifically about Johnnie Carr.

With all the public domain books digitized to e-books these days, I still had no success in finding Nine Little Goslings—until today! So for all of you who have wondered what happened to Johnnie at Inches Mill, here is

CURLY LOCKS

When a little girl is six and a little boy is six, they like pretty much the same things and enjoy pretty much the same games. She wears an apron, and he a jacket and trousers, but they are both equally fond of running races, spinning tops, flying kites, going down hill on sleds, and making a noise in the open air. But when the little girl gets to be eleven or twelve, and to grow thin and long, so that every two months a tuck has to be let down in her frocks, then a great difference becomes visible. The boy goes on racing and whooping and comporting himself generally like a young colt in a pasture; but she turns quiet and shy, cares no longer for rough play or exercise, takes droll little sentimental fancies into her head, and likes best the books which make her cry. Almost all girls have a fit of this kind some time or other in the course of their lives; and it is rather a good thing to have it early, for little folks get over such attacks more easily than big ones. Perhaps we may live to see the day when wise mammas, going through the list of nursery diseases which their children have had, will wind up triumphantly with, “Mumps, measles, chicken-pox,—and they are all over with Amy Herbert, The Heir of Redclyffe, and the notion that they are going to be miserable for the rest of their lives!”

Sometimes this odd change comes after an illness when a little girl feels weak and out of sorts, and does not know exactly what is the matter. This is the way it came to Johnnie Carr, a girl whom some of you who read this are already acquainted with. She had intermittent fever the year after her sisters Katy and Clover came from boarding-school, and was quite ill for several weeks. Everybody in the house was sorry to have Johnnie sick. Katy nursed, petted, and cosseted her in the tenderest way. Clover brought flowers to the bedside and read books aloud, and told Johnnie interesting stories. Elsie cut out paper dolls for her by dozens, painted their cheeks pink and their eyes blue, and made for them beautiful dresses and jackets of every color and fashion. Papa never came in without some little present or treat in his pocket for Johnnie. So long as she was in bed, and all these nice things were doing for her, Johnnie liked being ill very much, but when she began to sit up and go down to dinner, and the family spoke of her as almost well again, then a time of unhappiness set in. The Johnnie who got out of bed after the fever was not the Johnnie of a month before. There were two inches more of her for one thing, for she had taken the opportunity to grow prodigiously, as sick children often do. Her head ached at times, her back felt weak, and her legs shook when she tried to run about. All sorts of queer and disagreeable feelings attacked her. Her hair had fallen out during the fever so that Papa thought it best to have it shaved close. Katy made a pretty silk-lined cap for her to wear, but the girls at school laughed at the cap, and that troubled Johnnie very much. Then, when the new hair grew, thick and soft as the plumy down on a bird's wing, a fresh affliction set in, for the hair came out in small round rings all over her head, which made her look like a baby. Elsie called her “Curly,” and gradually the others adopted the name, till at last nobody used any other except the servants, who still said “Miss Johnnie.” It was hard to recognize the old Johnnie, square and sturdy and full of merry life, in poor, thin, whining Curly, always complaining of something, who lay on the sofa reading story-books, and begging Phil and Dorry to let her alone, not to tease her, and to go off and play by themselves. Her eyes looked twice as big as usual, because her face was so small and pale, and though she was still a pretty child, it was in a different way from the old prettiness. Katy and Clover were very kind and gentle always, but Elsie sometimes lost patience entirely, and the boys openly declared that Curly was a cross-patch, and hadn't a bit of fun left in her.

One afternoon she was lying on the sofa with The Wide Wide World in her hand. Her eyelids were very red from crying over Alice's death, but she had galloped on, and was now reading the part where Ellen Montgomery goes to live with her rich relatives in Scotland.

“Oh, dear,” sighed Johnnie. “How splendid it was for her! Just think, Clover, riding lessons, and a watch, and her uncle takes her to see all sorts of places, and they call her their White Rose! Oh, dear! I wish we had relations in Scotland.”

“We haven't, you know,” remarked Clover, threading her needle with a fresh bit of blue worsted.

“I know it. It's too bad. Nothing ever does happen in this stupid place. The girls in books always do have such nice times. Ellen could leap, and she spoke French beautifully. She learned at that place, you know, the place where the Humphreys lived.”

“Litchfield Co., Connecticut,” said Clover mischievously. “Katy was there last summer, you recollect. I guess they don't all speak such good French. Katy didn't notice it.”

“Ellen did,” persisted Johnnie. “Her uncle and all those people were so surprised when they heard her. Wouldn't it be grand to be an adopted child, Clover?”

“To be adopted by people who gave you your bath like a baby when you were thirteen years old, and tapped your lips when they didn't want you to speak, and stole your Pilgrim's Progresses? No, thank you. I would much rather stay as I am.”

“I wouldn't,” replied Johnnie pensively. “I don't like this place very much. I should love to be rich and to travel in Europe.”

At this moment Papa and Katy came in together. Katy was laughing, and Papa looked as if he had just bitten a smile off short. In his hand was a letter.

“Oh, Clovy,” began Katy, but Papa interposed with “Katy, hold your tongue;” and though he looked quizzical as he said it, Katy saw that he was half in earnest, and stopped at once.

“We're about to have a visitor,” he went on, picking Johnnie up and settling her in his lap,—“a distinguished visitor. Curly, you must put on your best manners, for she comes especially to see you.”

“A visitor! How nice! Who is it?” cried Clover and Johnnie with one voice. Visitors were rare in Burnet, and the children regarded them always as a treat.

“Her name is Miss Inches,—Marion Joanna Inches,” replied Dr. Carr, glancing at the letter. “She's a sort of godmother of yours, Curly; you've got half her name.”

“Was I really named after her?”

“Yes. She and Mamma were school-friends, and though they never met after leaving school, Mamma was fond of her, and when little No. 4 came, she decided to call her after her old intimate. That silver mug of yours was a present from her.”

“Was it? Where does she live?”

“At a place called Inches Mills, in Massachusetts. She's the rich lady of the village, and has a beautiful house and grounds, where she lives all alone by herself. Her letter is written at Niagara. She is going to the Mammoth Cave, and writes to ask if it will be convenient for us to have her stop for a few days on the way. She wants to see her old friend's children, she says, and especially her namesake.”

“Oh, dear!” sighed Johnnie, ruffling her short hairs with her fingers. “I wish my curls were longer. What will she think when she sees me?”

“She'll think

“There is a little girl, and she has a little curl
     Right in the middle of her forehead;
When she is good she is very, very good,
     And when she is bad she is horrid—”

said Dr. Carr, laughing. But Johnnie didn't laugh back. Her lip trembled, and she said,–

“I'm not horrid really, am I?”

“Not a bit,” replied her father; “you're only a little goose now and then, and I'm such an old gander that I don't mind that a bit.”

Johnnie smiled and was comforted. Her thoughts turned to the coming visitor.

“Perhaps she'll be like the rich ladies in story-books,” she said to herself.

Next day Miss Inches came. Katy was an experienced housekeeper now, and did not worry over coming guests as once she did. The house was always in pleasant, home-like order; and though Debby and Alexander had fulfilled Aunt Izzie's prediction by marrying one another, both stayed on at Dr. Carr's and were as good and faithful as ever, so Katy had no anxieties as to the dinners and breakfasts. It was late in the afternoon when the visitor arrived. Fresh flowers filled the vases, for it was early June, and the garden-beds were sweet with roses and lilies of the valley. The older girls wore new summer muslins, and Johnnie in white, her short curls tied back with a blue ribbon, looked unusually pretty and delicate.

Miss Inches, a wide-awake, handsome woman, seemed much pleased to see them all.

“So this is my name-child,” she said, putting her arm about Johnnie. “This is my little Joanna? You're the only child I have any share in, Joanna; I hope we shall love each other very deeply.”

Miss Inches' hand was large and white, with beautiful rings on the fingers. Johnnie was flattered at being patted by such a hand, and cuddled affectionately to the side of her name-mamma.

“What eyes she has!” murmured Miss Inches to Dr. Carr. She lowered her voice, but Johnnie caught every word. “Such a lambent blue, and so full of soul. She is quite different from the rest of your daughters, Dr. Carr; don't you think so?”

“She has been ill recently, and is looking thin,” replied the prosaic Papa.

“Oh, it isn't that! There is something else,—hard to put into words, but I feel it! You don't see it? Well, that only confirms a theory of mine, that people are often blind to the qualities of their nearest relations. We cannot get our own families into proper perspective. It isn't possible.”

These fine words were lost on Johnnie, but she understood that she was pronounced nicer than the rest of the family. This pleased her: she began to think that she should like Miss Inches very much indeed.

Dr. Carr was not so much pleased. The note from Miss Inches, over which he and Katy had laughed, but which was not shown to the rest, had prepared him for a visitor of rather high-flown ideas, but he did not like having Johnnie singled out as the subject of this kind of praise. However, he said to himself, “It doesn't matter. She means well, and jolly little Johnnie won't be harmed by a few days of it.”

Jolly little Johnnie would not have been harmed, but the pale, sentimental Johnnie left behind by the recently departed intermittent fever, decidedly was. Before Miss Inches had been four days in Burnet, Johnnie adored her and followed her about like a shadow. Never had anybody loved her as Miss Inches did, she thought, or discovered such fine things in her character. Ten long years and a half had she lived with Papa and the children, and not one of them had found out that her eyes were full of soul, and an expression “of mingled mirth and melancholy unusual in a childish face, and more like that of Goethe's Mignon than any thing else in the world of fiction!” Johnnie had never heard of “Mignon,” but it was delightful to be told that she resembled her, and she made Miss Inches a present of the whole of her foolish little heart on the spot.

“Oh, if Papa would but give you to me!” exclaimed Miss Inches one day. “If only I could have you for my own, what a delight it would be! My whole theory of training is so different,—you should never waste your energies in house-work, my darling, (Johnnie had been dusting the parlor); it is sheer waste, with an intelligence like yours lying fallow and only waiting for the master's hand. Would you come, Johnnie, if Papa consented? Inches Mills is a quiet place, but lovely. There are a few bright minds in the neighborhood; we are near Boston, and not too far from Concord. Such a pretty room as you should have, darling, fitted up in blue and rose-buds, or—no, Morris green and Pompeian-red would be prettier, perhaps. What a joy it would be to choose pictures for it,—pictures, every one of which should be an impulse in the best Art direction! And how you would revel in the garden, and in the fruit! My strawberries are the finest I ever saw; I have two Alderney cows and quantities of cream. Don't you think you could be happy to come and be my own little Curly, if Papa would consent?”

“Yes, yes,” said Johnnie eagerly. “And I could come home sometimes, couldn't I?”

“Every year,” replied Miss Inches. “We'll take such lovely journeys together, Johnnie, and see all sorts of interesting places. Would you like best to go to California or to Switzerland next summer? I think, on the whole, Switzerland would be best. I want you to form a good French accent at once, but, above all, to study German, the language of thought. Then there is music. We might spend the winter at Stuttgard–”

Decidedly Miss Inches was counting on her chicken before hatching it, for Dr. Carr had yet to be consulted, and he was not a parent who enjoyed interference with his nest or nestlings. When Miss Inches attacked him on the subject, his first impulse was to whistle with amazement. Next he laughed, and then he became almost angry. Miss Inches talked very fast, describing the fine things she would do with Johnnie, and for her; and Dr. Carr, having no chance to put in a word, listened patiently, and watched his little girl, who was clinging to her new friend and looking very eager and anxious. He saw that her heart was set on being “adopted,” and, wise man that he was, it occurred to him that it might be well to grant her wish in part, and let her find out by experiment what was really the best and happiest thing. So he did not say “No” decidedly, as he at first meant, but took Johnnie on his knee, and asked,–

“Well, Curly, so you want to leave Papa and Katy and Clover, and go away to be Miss Inches' little girl, do you?”

“I'm coming home to see you every single summer,” said Johnnie.

“Indeed! That will be nice for us,” responded Dr. Carr cheerfully. “But somehow I don't seem to feel as if I could quite make up my mind to give my Curly Locks away. Perhaps in a year or two, when we are used to being without her, I may feel differently. Suppose, instead, we make a compromise.”

“Yes,” said Miss Inches, eagerly.

“Yes,” put in Johnnie, who had not the least idea of what a compromise might be.

“I can't give away my little girl,—not yet,”—went on Dr. Carr fondly. “But if Miss Inches likes I'll lend her for a little while. You may go home with Miss Inches, Johnnie, and stay four months,—to the first of October, let us say.” (“She'll miss two weeks' schooling, but that's no great matter,” thought Papa to himself.) “This will give you, my dear lady, a chance to try the experiment of having a child in your house. Perhaps you may not like it so well as you fancy. If you do, and if Johnnie still prefers to remain with you, there will be time enough then to talk over further plans. How will this answer?”

Johnnie was delighted, Miss Inches not so much so.

“Of course,” she said, “it isn't so satisfactory to have the thing left uncertain, because it retards the regular plan of development which I have formed for Johnnie. However, I can allow for a parent's feelings, and I thank you very much, Dr. Carr. I feel assured that, as you have five other children, you will in time make up your mind to let me keep Johnnie entirely as mine. It puts a new value into life,—this chance of having an immortal intelligence placed in my hands to train. It will be a real delight to do so, and I flatter myself the result will surprise you all.”

Dr. Carr's eyes twinkled wickedly, but he made Miss Inches the politest of bows, and said: “You are very kind, I am sure, and I hope Johnnie will be good and not give you much trouble. When would you wish her visit to commence?”

“Oh—now, if you do not object. I should so enjoy taking her with me to the Mammoth Cave, and afterward straight home to Massachusetts. You would like to see the Cave and the eyeless fish, wouldn't you, darling?”

“Oh yes, Papa, yes!” cried Johnnie. Dr. Carr was rather taken aback, but he made no objection, and Johnnie ran off to tell the rest of the family the news of her good fortune.

Their dismay cannot be described. “I really do think that Papa is crazy,” said Clover that night; and though Katy scolded her for using such an expression, her own confidence in his judgment was puzzled and shaken. She comforted herself with a long letter to Cousin Helen, telling her all about the affair. Elsie cried herself to sleep three nights running, and the boys were furious.

“The idea of such a thing,” cried Dorry, flinging himself about, while Phil put a tablespoonful of black pepper and two spools of thread into his cannon, and announced that if Miss Inches dared to take Johnnie outside the gate, he would shoot her dead, he would, just as sure as he was alive!

In spite of this awful threat, Miss Inches persisted in her plan. Johnnie's little trunk was packed by Clover and Katy, who watered its contents with tears as they smoothed and folded the frocks and aprons, which looked so like their Curly as to seem a part of herself,—their Curly, who was so glad to leave them!

“Never mind the thick things,” remarked Dr. Carr, as Katy came through the hall with Johnnie's winter jacket on her arm. “Put in one warmish dress for cool days, and leave the rest. They can be sent on if Johnnie decides to stay.”

Papa looked so droll and gave such a large wink at the word “if,” that Katy and Clover felt their hearts lighten surprisingly, and finished the packing in better spirits. The good-by, however, was a sorry affair. The girls cried; Dorry and Phil sniffed and looked fiercely at Miss Inches; old Mary stood on the steps with her apron thrown over her head; and Dr. Carr's face was so grave and sad that it quite frightened Johnnie. She cried too, and clung to Katy. Almost she said, “I won't go,” but she thought of the eyeless fish, and didn't say it. The carriage drove off, Miss Inches petted her, everything was new and exciting, and before long she was happy again, only now and then a thought of home would come to make her lips quiver and her eyes fill.

The wonderful Cave, with its vaults and galleries hung with glittering crystals, its underground river and dark lake, was so like a fairy tale, that Johnnie felt as if she must go right back and tell the family at home about it. She relieved her feelings by a long letter to Elsie, which made them all laugh very much. In it she said, “Ellen Montgomery didn't have any thing half so nice as the Cave, and Mamma Marion never taps my lips.” Miss Inches, it seemed, wished to be called “Mamma Marion.” Every mile of the journey was an enjoyment to Johnnie. Miss Inches bought pretty presents for her wherever they stopped: altogether, it was quite like being some little girl taking a beautiful excursion in a story-book, instead of plain Johnnie Carr, and Johnnie felt that to be an “adopted child” was every bit as nice as she had supposed, and even nicer.

It was late in the evening when they reached Inches Mills, so nothing could be seen of the house, except that it was big and had trees around it. Johnnie went to sleep in a large bedroom with a huge double bed all to herself, and felt very grown-up and important.

The next day was given to unpacking and seeing the grounds; after that, Miss Inches said they must begin to lead a regular life, and Johnnie must study. Johnnie had been to school all winter, and in the natural course of things would have had holidays now. Mamma Marion, however, declared that so long an idle time would not do at all.

“Education, my darling, is not a thing of periods,” she explained. “It should be like the air, absorbed, as it were, all the time, not like a meal, eaten just so often in the day. This idea of teaching by paroxysms is one of the fatal mistakes of the age.”

So all that warm July Johnnie had French lessons and German, and lessons in natural philosophy, beside studying English literature after a plan of Miss Inches' own, which combined history and geography and geology, with readings from various books, and accounted for the existence of all the great geniuses of the world, as if they had been made after a regular recipe,—something like this:–

TO MAKE A POET.

Take a political situation, add a rocky soil, and the western slope of a great water-shed, pour into a mould and garnish with laurel leaves. It will be found delicious!

The “lambent blue” of Johnnie's eyes grew more lambent than ever as she tried to make head and tail of this wonderful hash of people and facts. I am afraid that Mamma Marion was disappointed in the intelligence of her pupil, but Johnnie did her best, though she was rather aggrieved at being obliged to study at all in summer, which at home was always play-time. The children she knew were having a delightful vacation there, and living out of doors from morning till night.

As the weeks went on she felt this more and more. Change of air was making her rosy and fat, and with returning strength a good deal of the old romping, hearty Johnnie came back; or would have come, had there been anybody to romp with. But there was nobody, for Miss Inches scarcely ever invited children to her house. They were brought up so poorly she said. There was nothing inspiring in their contact. She wanted Johnnie to be something quite different.

So Johnnie seldom saw anybody except “Mamma Marion” and her friends, who came to drink tea and talk about “Protoplasm,” and the “Higher Education of Women,” which wasn't at all interesting to poor Curly. She always sat by, quietly and demurely, and Miss Inches hoped was listening and being improved, but really she was thinking about something else, or longing to climb a tree or have a good game of play with real boys and girls. Once, in the middle of a tea-party, she stole upstairs and indulged in a hearty cry all to herself, over the thought of a little house which she and Dorry and Phil had built in Paradise the summer before; a house of stumps and old boards, lined with moss, in which they had had such a good time.

Almost as soon as they got home, Miss Inches sent to Boston for papers and furniture, and devoted her spare time to fitting up a room for her adopted child. Johnnie was not allowed to see it till all was done, then she was led triumphantly in. It was pretty—and queer—perhaps queerer than pretty. The walls were green-gray, the carpet gray-green, the furniture pale yellow, almost white, with brass handles and hinges, and lines of dull red tiles set into the wood. Every picture on the walls had a meaning, Miss Inches explained.

“Some of these I chose to strengthen your mind, Johnnie, dear,” she said. “These portraits, for example. Here are Luther, Mahomet, and Theodore Parker, three of the great Protestants of the world. Life, to be worthy, must be more or less of a protest always. I want you to renumber that. This photograph is of Michael Angelo's Moses. I got you that too, because it is so strong. I want you to be strong. Do you like it?”

“I think it would be prettier without the curl-papers,” faltered the bewildered Johnnie.

“Curl-papers! My dear child, where are your eyes? Those are horns. He wore horns as a law-giver.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Johnnie, not daring to ask any more questions for fear of making more mistakes.

“These splendid autotypes are from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome, the glory of the world,” went on Miss Inches. “And here, Johnnie, is the most precious of all. This I got expressly for you. It is an education to have such a painting as that before your eyes. I rely very much upon its influence on you.”

The painting represented what seemed to be a grove of tall yellow-green sea-weeds, waving against a strange purple sky. There was a path between the stems of the sea-weeds, and up this path trotted a pig, rather soft and smudgy about his edges, as if he were running a little into the background. His quirly tail was smudgy also; and altogether it was more like the ghost of a pig than a real animal, but Miss Inches said that was the great beauty of the picture.

Johnnie didn't care much for the painted pig, but she liked him better than the great Reformers, who struck her as grim and frightful; while the very idea of going to sleep in the room with the horned Moses scared her almost to death. It preyed on her mind all day; and at night, after Johnnie had gone to bed, Miss Inches, passing the door, heard a little sob, half strangled by the pillows. She went in.

“What is the matter?” she cried.

“It's that awful man with horns,” gasped Johnnie, taking her head out from under the bedclothes. “I can't go to sleep, he frightens me so.”

“Oh, my darling, what, what weakness,” cried Mamma Marion.

She was too kind, however, to persist in any plan which made Johnnie unhappy, so Moses came down, and Johnnie was allowed to choose a picture to fill his place. She selected a chromo of three little girls in a swing, a dreadful thing, all blue and red and green, which Miss Inches almost wept over. But it was a great comfort to Johnnie. I think it was the chromo which put it into Mamma Marion's head that the course of instruction chosen for her adopted child was perhaps a little above her years. Soon after she surprised Johnnie by the gift of a doll, a boy doll, dressed in a suit of Swedish gray, with pockets. In one hand the doll carried a hammer, and under the other arm was tucked a small portfolio.

“I like to make your sports a little instructive when I can,” she said, “so I have dressed this doll in the costume of Linnæus, the great botanist. See what a nice little herbarium he has got under his arm. There are twenty-four tiny specimens in it, with the Latin and English names of each written underneath. If you could learn these perfectly, Johnnie, it would give you a real start in botany, which is the most beautiful of the sciences. Suppose you try. What will you name your doll, darling?”

“I don't know,” replied Johnnie, glaring at the wax-boy with very hostile feelings.

“Linnæus? No, I don't quite like to give that name to a doll. Suppose, Johnnie, we christen him Hortus Siccus. That's the Latin name for a herbal, and will help you to remember it when you form one of your own. Now take him and have a good play.”

How was it possible to have a good play with a doll named Hortus Siccus? Johnnie hated him, and could not conceal the fact. Miss Inches was grieved and disappointed. But she said to herself, “Perhaps she is just too old for dolls and just too young to care for pictures. It isn't so easy to fix a child's mental position as I thought it would be. I must try something else.”

She really loved Johnnie and wished to make her happy, so the thought occurred of giving her a child's party. “I don't approve of them,” she told her friends. “But perhaps it may be possible to combine some instruction with the amusements, and Johnnie is so pleased. Dear little creature, she is only eleven, and small things are great at that age. I suppose it is always so with youth.”

Twenty children were asked to the party. They were to come at four, play for two hours in the garden, then have supper, and afterward games in the parlor.

Johnnie felt as if she had taken a dose of laughing-gas, at the sight of twenty boys and girls all at once, real boys, real girls! How long it was since she had seen any! She capered and jumped in a way which astonished Miss Inches, and her high spirits so infected the rest that a general romp set in, and the party grew noisy to an appalling degree.

“Oh, Johnnie dear, no more 'Tag,'“ cried poor Mamma Marion, catching her adopted child and wiping her hot face with a handkerchief. “It is really too rude, such a game as that. It is only fit for boys.”

“Oh, please!—please!—please!” entreated Johnnie. “It is splendid. Papa always let us; he did indeed, he always did.”

“I thought you were my child now, and anxious for better things than tag,” said Miss Inches gravely. Johnnie had to submit, but she pouted, shrugged her shoulders, and looked crossly about her, in a way which Mamma Marion had never seen before, and which annoyed her very much.

“Now it is time to go to supper,” she announced. “Form yourselves into a procession, children. Johnnie shall take this tambourine and Willy Parker these castanets, and we will march in to the sound of music.”

Johnnie liked to beat the tambourine very much, so her sulks gave place at once to smiles. The boys and girls sorted themselves into couples, Miss Inches took the head of the procession with an accordion, Willy Parker clashed the castanets as well as he could, and they all marched into the house. The table was beautifully spread with flowers and grapes and pretty china. Johnnie took the head, Willy the foot, and Dinah the housemaid helped them all round to sliced peaches and cream.

Miss Inches meanwhile sat down in the corner of the room and drew a little table full of books near her. As soon as they were all served, she began,–

“Now, dear children, while you eat, I will read aloud a little. I should like to think that each one of you carried away one thought at least from this entertainment,—a thought which would stay by you, and be, as it were, seed-grain for other thoughts in years to come. First, I will read 'Abou Ben Adhem,' by Leigh Hunt, an English poet.”

The children listened quietly to Abou Ben Adhem, but when Miss Inches opened another book and began to read sentences from Emerson, a deep gloom fell upon the party. Willy Parker kicked his neighbor and made a face. Lucy Hooper and Grace Sherwood whispered behind their napkins, and got to laughing till they both choked. Johnnie's cross feelings came back; she felt as if the party was being spoiled, and she wanted to cry. A low buzz of whispers, broken by titters, went round the table, and through it all Miss Inches' voice sounded solemn and distinct, as she slowly read one passage after another, pausing between each to let the meaning sink properly into the youthful mind.

Altogether the supper was a failure, in spite of peaches and cream and a delicious cake full of plums and citron. When it was over they went into the parlor to play. The game of “Twenty Questions” was the first one chosen. Miss Inches played too. The word she suggested was “iconoclast.”

“We don't know what it means,” objected the children.

“Oh, don't you, dears? It means a breaker of idols. However, if you are not familiar with it we will choose something else. How would 'Michael Angelo' do?”

“But we never heard any thing about him.”

Miss Inches was shocked at this, and began a little art-lecture on the spot, in the midst of which Willy Parker broke in with, “I've thought of a word,—'hash'?”

“Oh, yes! Capital! Hash is a splendid word!” chorussed the others, and poor Miss Inches, who had only got as far as Michael Angelo's fourteenth year, found that no one was listening, and stopped abruptly. Hash seemed to her a vulgar word for the children to choose, but there was no help for it, and she resigned herself.

Johnnie thought hash an excellent word. It was so funny when Lucy asked whether the thing chosen was animal, vegetable, or mineral? and Willy replied, “All three,” for he explained in a whisper, there was always salt in hash, and salt was a mineral. “Have you all seen it?” questioned Lucy. “Lots of times,” shouted the children, and there was much laughing. After “Twenty Questions,” they played “Sim says wiggle-waggle,” and after that, “Hunt the Slipper.” Poor, kind, puzzled Miss Inches was relieved when they went away, for it seemed to her that their games were all noisy and a fearful waste of time. She resolved that she would never give Johnnie any more parties; they upset the child completely, and demoralized her mind.

Johnnie was upset. After the party she was never so studious or so docile as she had been before. The little taste of play made her dislike work, and set her to longing after the home-life where play and work were mixed with each other as a matter of course. She began to think that it would be only pleasant to make up her bed, or dust a room again, and she pined for the old nursery, for Phil's whistle, for Elsie and the paper-dolls, and to feel Katy's arms round her once more. Her letters showed the growing home-sickness. Dr. Carr felt that the experiment had lasted long enough. So he discovered that he had business in Boston, and one fine September day, as Johnnie was forlornly poring over her lesson in moral philosophy, the door opened and in came Papa. Such a shriek as she gave! Miss Inches happened to be out, and they had the house to themselves for a while.

“So you are glad to see me?” said Papa, when Johnnie had dried her eyes after the violent fit of crying which was his welcome, and had raised her head from his shoulder. His own eyes were a little moist, but he spoke gaily.

“Oh, Papa, so glad! I was just longing for you to come. How did it happen?”

“I had business in this part of the world, and I thought you might be wanting your winter clothes.”

Johnnie's face fell.

“Must I stay all winter?” she said in a trembling voice. “Aren't you going to take me home?”

“But I thought you wanted to be 'adopted,' and to go to Europe, and have all sorts of fine things happen to you.”

“Oh, Papa, don't tease me. Mamma Marion is ever so kind, but I want to come back and be your little girl again. Please let me. If you don't, I shall die–” and Johnnie wrung her hands.

“We'll see about it,” said Dr. Carr. “Don't die, but kiss me and wash your face. It won't do for Miss Inches to come home and find you with those impolite red rims to your eyes.”

“Come upstairs, too, and see my room, while I wash 'em,” pleaded Johnnie.

All the time that Johnnie was bathing her eyes, Papa walked leisurely about looking at the pictures. His mouth wore a furtive smile.

“This is a sweet thing,” he observed, “this one with the pickled asparagus and the donkey, or is it a cat?”

“Papa! it's a pig!”

Then they both laughed.

I think there was a little bit of relief mixed with Miss Inches' disappointment at hearing of Johnnie's decision. The child of theory was a delightful thing to have in the house, but this real child, with moods and tempers and a will of her own, who preferred chromos to Raphael, and pined after “tag,” tried her considerably. They parted, however, most affectionately.

“Good-by, dear Mamma Marion,” whispered Johnnie. “You've been just as good as good to me, and I love you so much,—but you know I am used to the girls and Papa.”

“Yes, dear, I know. You're to come back often, Papa says, and I shall call you my girl always.” So, with kisses, they separated, and Miss Inches went back to her old life, feeling that it was rather comfortable not to be any longer responsible for a “young intelligence,” and that she should never envy mammas with big families of children again, as once she had done.

“So we've got our Curly Locks back,” said Katy, fondly stroking Johnnie's hair, the night after the travellers' return. “And you'll never go away from us any more, will you?”

“Never, never, never!” protested Johnnie, emphasizing each word by a kiss.

“Not even to be adopted, travel in Europe, or speak Litchfield Co. French?” put in naughty Clover.

“No. I've been adopted once, and that's enough. Now I'm going to be Papa's little girl always, and when the rest of you get married I shall stay at home and keep house for him.”

“That's right,” said Dr. Carr.

Come to think of it, this also solves the mystery of the Bible verse Dr. Carr sends to Johnnie before her wedding.

Books Read Since March 7

• Rhett Butler's People, Donald McCaig
When you read a book written by an author who has won acclaim for a Civil War novel and who has written other highly-acclaimed books, and that particular author was chosen by the estate of a well-known writer to continue the saga, you expect a lot.

This book ain't it.

I didn't expect Margaret Mitchell's style; that was so unique and descriptive it would be hard to live up to. But McCaig's prose is so spare it's numbing. Did he even read Gone With the Wind? The quotes from the novel aren't even accurate and he has Rhett actually seeing Scarlett for the first time earlier than the barbecue at Twelve Oaks. The story with Rhett's sister Rosemary parallels the story of Rhett and Bonnie Blue. Oh, yeah, and Rhett was an early pioneer in race relations and even had close friends who were black. Ho hum.

However, this novel has one thing going for it, especially if you are even slightly knowledgeable of horses: there's a wonderful scene where Rhett rides an "11-hand black stallion." Er...and this came out of a supposed Civil War expert? The horse Rhett is riding is then 44 inches at the shoulder. Anything under 14 hands is a pony. This gaffe should keep you laughing for weeks. Certainly it's the only pleasure that will come out of this mess.

• Clues in the Shadows: A Molly Mystery, Kathleen Ernst
• The Cry of the Loon: A Samantha Mystery, Barbara Steiner
• Lady Margaret's Ghost: A Felicity Mystery, Elizabeth McDavid Jones
These are three of the four newest "American girl" mysteries. Some of the previous novels have been quite smart, but I detected an air of tiredness about these three entries. The solution of the Molly mystery seemed to be just tossed in; most of the books was a lecture about post-traumatic stress syndrome. It also used the old plot device of the family members acting so nice that the person being accommodated feels uneasy. The Samantha story is pretty much a different retelling of an earlier Samantha mystery The Curse of Ravenscroft. As for the painter's identity, wasn't that just a bit convenient? The Felicity title turns out to be a partial red herring, as the majority of the mystery is about something else altogether. And one of the characters is a red-headed orphan named Anne who is treated badly by her employers? Oh, dear. It also bothered me that the books are starting to take on the aspects of the television movies about these characters, rather than the original books. For instance, Molly talks about dancing in the Miss Victory pageant. Um, she didn't, at least in the books.

• Before Green Gables, Budge Wilson
I asked in my Rhett Butler's People review if McCaig actually read the book. It's obvious that Budge Wilson hasn't read any of the Anne of Green Gables books as in the afterward she thanks people for finding supporting documentation in the books for her. Where Wilson attempts to explain things like where Anne got her love of words and how she learned so many large ones when she had inadequate schooling, she almost explains too much. For instance, Anne always insists her name be spelt with an "e" at the end. According to Wilson, this apparently was something her father used to say which was passed on to Anne from the woman who kept house for her parents and later cared for her, and throughout the book Anne is proud of her name spelt with an "e." But, if you've read the original book, Anne really didn't like her name, remember? She wanted Marilla to call her "Cordelia." She only resigned herself to being "Anne" if it could be spelt with the "e" at the end which looked more elegant to her.

Wilson tries to excuse all the adults who have been cruel to Anne in her childhood. Drunken Mr. Thomas has just lost all his dreams and is pathetic. Mrs. Hammond of the three sets of twins is just suffering from postpartum depression. The woman that runs the orphanage was just brought up very strictly. And what about all the people Anne befriends? Does no one, like the friendly schoolmarm or the embittered schoolmaster (changed by his exposure to Anne's positive nature) or the midwife ever think to rescue her from her grinding life?

The language of the tale also bothered me. Montgomery wrote in an 19th-century style that did not talk down to children (in fact, Anne of Green Gables was not written as a children's book), yet thousands of children have enjoyed it. Wilson seems to try to make adjustments so that elementary school children can understand the story and the resulting prose is choppy, with short sentences and easy-to-understand vocabulary. I didn't hate this book—interesting take on Anne's past—but it was ultimately disappointing.

• Little Women Abroad, ed. by Daniel Shealy
Although her literary alter ego Jo March never went to Europe, Louisa May Alcott made two trips to the continent, one as a companion (where she met the young Polish pianist who inspired "Laurie") and once, chronicled in this book, with her youngest sister May (the inspiration for Amy) and a friend, Alice. Louisa was still debilitated from the effects of calomel given to her while nursing soldiers in the Civil War, and the sisters and friends flitted from one warm or historical site to another, improving Louisa's health and giving May the exposure to art she desired. Both women wrote dozens of letters home to their parents and to their sister Anna, and although most of the originals have not survived, Bronson Alcott had the foresight to copy most of the letters, which are collected into this volume along with many of May Alcott's drawings of the landscapes, buildings, and people that they encountered along the way. This is fascinating reading of "the Grand Tour" of Europe in the late 19th century, as Louisa and her companions ride rickety wagons over the mountains and May Alcott visits the famous St. Bernard Hospice, and they encounter difficulties engendered by the Franco-Prussian War. Copiously footnoted.

• Shakespeare: The World as Stage, Bill Bryson
Want to brush up your Shakespeare? This a brief but enjoyable volume about the essentials of Shakespeare: the meager facts that are known about his life, the sources of his plays, the phrases and words he seemingly created out of thin air, the different versions of his folios (and the amazing fact that his plays survived when most of the famous ones of the era vanished), and other tidbits about the Bard told in Bryson's entertaining fashion.

• The War That Made America, Fred Anderson
In his more ambitious work, The Crucible of War, cited in the Morgan book below, Fred Anderson commented that most people today think of the French and Indian War as a minor event in colonial American history. Wow. What are they teaching in history class these days? Events from this war, also known as the Seven Years' War, prompted the American Revolution. Anderson focuses on the personalities of the war, including testing and training of young George Washington, and also the dehumanization of the Native tribes, plus touches on the Acadians exile.

• The Name of War, Jill Lepore
This is a rather odd book about King Philip's War, which ended the relationship so tentatively set up after the landing of the "Pilgrims" in Massachusetts. Their tenuous relationship with the different native tribes in the area deteriorates until the son of Massasoit who befriended them, Metacom, also known by the English name of Philip, leads a rebellion against the "civilized" English. Lepore includes actual testimony from settlers' journals, including Mary Rowland's best-selling narrative of captivity, as well as a play written in the 1800s to portray the changing attitude to the tribes involved and Philip himself.

• The Dante Club, Matthew Pearl
What if 19th century writers Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, James Russell Lowell and Oliver Wendell Holmes, along with publisher James T. Fields, became involved in a mystery? The gentlemen, who have formed a "Dante Club" while Longfellow is translating The Divine Comedy, slowly become aware that recent Boston deaths are emulating the gruesome punishments in Dante's nine circles of Hell. Also investigating the brutal crimes is the first African-American police officer in Boston, Nicholas Rey. In the meantime, the Commission that runs Harvard is attempting to bar Lowell from teaching Dante, and indeed trying to get a translation of Dante quashed once and for all.

I found this a page-turner with all sorts of delightful insights into the writers portrayed, but be advised that Pearl has attempted to emulate the verbose style of 19th-century prose; the text contains multiple descriptions, literary allusions, Boston history, portraits of the writers and their families, and minute details of life in that era. It will not be for all tastes.

• A Royal Pain, Rhys Bowen
Bowen has her cozy village-set Constable Evans and her feisty Molly Murphy in turn-of-the-century New York City—and then there is "Georgie." Second cousin to King George V and thirty-fourth in line for the throne, Georgie has been left high and dry by her older brother Binky after their father has lost all their money. She has no employable skills and can either marry "Fishface," a German prince, or become a companion to an elderly cousin—or continue what she is doing, living in the family townhouse and attempting to earn money by valeting stately homes, until Queen Mary asks that she escort a visiting German princess whom she hopes will lure her oldest son (the future Edward VIII) away from the "villainous" Wallis Simpson. Saddled with a kleptomaniac princess who learned English from American gangster films, her snobbish escort and grim maid, Georgie does what she does best: stumble headlong into mystery. The "Royal Spyness" stories are strictly for laughs—enjoy!

• Execution Dock, Anne Perry
In this newest Willam Monk mystery, Monk is trying to convict a loathsome man named Jericho Phillips, who takes poor young boys from the street and confines them to a barge on the river, keeping them fed and warm in exchange for performing sexual acts in front of and with wealthy young men and posing for pornographic photos. Unfortunately, as a favor to his father-in-law, barrister Oliver Rathbone, a friend to both Monk and his wife Hester, defends Phillips so skilfully that he escapes prosecution in the murder of a teenage boy. Angry at having been outmaneuvered, Monk swears to catch Phillips at some other crime to keep him from plying his trade. But in the course of the investigation, Monk finds out that his predecessor may not have been the honest man he seemed—and that his enemy will do anything to succeed, include ruining Monk's name. This is a great entry in the series, with slowly mounting tension. My only complaint: the story just suddenly ends and I wasn't sure how the coup de grace happened.

• The Genuine Article, Edmund S. Morgan
I picked this one off the bargain book table because it was labeled as "essays about early American history." What I didn't realize is they were actually essays based on published history books; basically reviews and the author's thoughts on the subject. Still, most of the essays were quite interesting and this was what prompted me to get the books about the French and Indian War and King Philip's War out of the library. The author writes intelligently, but doesn't get bogged down in a lot of academic blather.

• The Portable Italian Mamma, Luara Mosiello and Susan Reynolds
::giggle::snort::chortle::giggle:: This compact little humor book subtitled "Guilt, Pasta, and When Are You Going to Give Me Grandchildren" has it spot-on, although there's a dismaying reliance on Italian celebrities and ... sigh ... The Sopranos. What happened to the annual church feasts? (I know New York has 'em.) Picnics complete with food cooked at home and eaten off of plates that Mamma has to wash when she gets home? More about Italian mammas/nonnas/aunts from the kids' point of view? I could tell you stories...oh, wait, I already have! LOL. (Also recommended: Rick Detorie's (of the comic strip "One Big Happy") How to Survive an Italian Family.)