Books Finished Since July 1

 Mrs. Daffodil, Gladys Taber
I'd love to own this book, but the best price I've seen it for online has been $125.00 (it cost $3.75 when released in 1957; Gladys would be amazed). So I take it out of the library every so often and worry about what I'll do if they ever discard it.

This is Taber's fictionalized account of her life at Stillmeadow, her Connecticut farmhouse made famous in her nonfiction and her monthly magazine column; like Taber, Mrs. Daffodil shares a Colonial-era country house with her best friend Kay, a widow; writes a magazine column called "Butternut Wisdom" along with short stories; raises cocker spaniels and one unruly Irish setter and is owned by a Siamese cat; constantly wavers between dieting and including recipes in her publications that involve fresh foods raised on her property or on neighboring farms. Too, she has a dreamy, romantic daughter in college.

I think Taber wrote this volume because there were things she didn't want to address in her nonfiction: life was always so pleasant in her Stillmeadow columns, with only a few hard times intruding, that her frustrations are all vented in this piece of fiction: her constant struggles with her weight, her uncomfortable encounters speaking or appearing in interviews; and, a constant theme through the book, fans of her books and columns who show up unannounced at all hours of the day, expecting to be shown through the house and often inviting themselves to dinner. Too, she talks about neglected neighbors, country politics, and the comedy after comedy that recurs as she and Kay try to find someone to help them with the housekeeping. Her greatest criticisms, however, are directed at herself: abortive efforts raising fruits or tapping maple trees, sentimental outbursts, and her inability to manage a checkbook. It's sweet, usually humorous but occasionally sad, and if you are any kind of Stillmeadow fan, beat it to your local library and search for this one via interlibrary loan. You won't be sorry.

 Paris to the Past, Ina Caro
I think I've been an Anglophile since I watched Richard Greene's Robin Hood and the syndicated Adventures of Sir Lancelot when I was a kid. I'm not a Francophobe, but I've never had much interest in France. However, a friend in another book blog talked about a book reading challenge called "Paris in July," and, although I didn't want to take part, I thought: in July why not read some of the books I have in the growing to-be-read piles that concerned France?

I picked this dandy volume for my first sortie and was not disappointed. Caro and her husband, after traveling around France for years, settled in Paris, so content in their life there that they didn't want to leave it for long periods of time, even to explore the historical sites Caro so loved. So she devised trips to historical sites that were short rides on express trains from Paris, places you could explore in a day and then come home. Paris to the Past is the story of those day trips, arranged in chronological order so that Caro and her husband, and the reader, could trace French history through its landmarks, including the development of castles from defensive fortresses to opulent palaces, and the different architectural styles of cathedrals. You meet the Abbot Suger, who built the first Gothic cathedral; the formidable Diane de Portiers and Blanche of Castile; Joan of Arc (of course); and other personalities from the 12th century to the 19th. Caro explores tourist attractions and those off the beaten track. Detailed without being dry, filled with bits of historical trivia rubbing elbows with gastronomic treats, this was a very enjoyable read.

 The President is a Sick Man, Matthew Algeo
In 1893, President Grover Cleveland received shattering news: he has a cancerous growth in his mouth. Remembering ex-President Grant's painful death from throat cancer, but at the same time not wanting to rattle a country already suffering from financial difficulties and "the silver question" (not to mention weakening confidence in his leadership), Cleveland does something extraordinary: he announces he will be spending a week or two on a friend's yacht to relax after weeks of late nights and hard work. But in reality he gathers a group of surgeons to remove the growth in his mouth and then care for him until he is well enough to travel back to Washington, DC.

For years most people never knew this surgery happened; it was reported back then, by a newspaper reporter named Edwards, who was called a liar and worse. It was only 20 years later that the truth came out to an incredulous public. This is the story of that deception, of the precarious political situation of the time, of the persons involved, and of the extraordinary will of Grover Cleveland, who was much more ill after the surgery than he let anyone suspect. It's not the best history book I've ever read, but it is to the point, sums up the era well, and presents an interesting portrait of Cleveland, his young wife Frances Folsom (whose courtship some modern folks may find a bit creepy, but it was quite common for older men to marry young women in those days), his surgical team, and reporter E.J. Edwards and his newspaper rivals in a concise manner. If you're not a history buff, you may find it dull. Interesting note: this was the first of several non-fiction books now out about Cleveland, the "forgotten Republican."

 Trixie Belden and the Sasquatch Mystery, Kathryn Kenny
This has to be the most boring Trixie Belden book ever. I know in the last few I've been complaining about Trixie not acting like herself, or Bobby being in danger, but this one is numbing.

Plot in brief: The Bob-Whites (minus Dan, of course), with Miss Trask as chaperone, are spending August camping in Idaho with the Belden cousins: Hallie (see Mystery of the Uninvited Guest) and her older brothers Knut (a dependable hunk) and Cap (a teenage Grizzly Adams). Trixie wakes up one night to see Cap facing down what looks like a sasquatch at their campfire. The sasquatch keeps turning up. Tourists scared by the sasquatch flee. Others come to hunt him down. Meanwhile the kids hike up to see an old friend of the Idaho Beldens, an elderly miner with a pet skunk and a yumpin yiminy accent. Rocks are tossed at them. Their food is stolen. Their truck smells like skunk. And every time one turns around, Di is screaming. Oy.

The bad guys are telegraphed from their introduction. The kids spend a lot of time tramping back and forth through the forest. Trixie falls down a log chute. Jim is almost a non-entity in the book and seems unconcerned that his "special girl" is (a) hurt and (b) hanging a lot around with her hunky cousin. And Di keeps screaming. For heaven's sake, girl, shut up! Really, maybe I can understand why girls started reading the Babysitter's Club books instead. 

 Thieftaker, D.B. Jackson
I was at an Alternative History panel at DragonCon last year where Jackson talked about his new "tricorn punk" (as opposed to "steampunk") novel, and couldn't resist buying a copy when it came out in paperback recently.

Ethan Kaille is a "thieftaker" (an early version of private detective) in Colonial Boston. After he spent fourteen years as a prisoner on a sugar plantation for his part in a ship's mutiny, he now ekes out a small living bringing criminals to justice, small crimes that are too minor for Boston's primary thieftaker, Sephira Price, an audacious woman with a gang of cutthroats almost as bad as the criminals they chase. Amazingly, however, Ethan is hired to look into the case of a well-born young woman found dead in the streets after a gang of rowdies destroyed a government official's home. But once he examines her, Ethan—whose talents, as many people know, include witchcraft—knows that the girl was actually killed by sorcery. But for what purpose? And why has her father hired him, instead of Sephira Price, whose reputation is so much better?

This is a satisfactory mix of historical novel crossed with fantasy elements. Colonial Boston's wealthy homes and narrow side streets are convincingly portrayed, and Jackson's magic working seems grounded in a logical manner. It isn't "wiggle your nose" magic or something that just comes out of thin air. Okay, I was getting a bit tired of Ethan always getting outclassed by Sephira's thugs by the time the novel ended, but that's because I quickly became fond of the character and his struggles to make a life for himself and find some sort of happiness in a life that has been filled with hardship and deception. I thought it interesting that Jackson originally set the novel in an imaginary setting and then re-wrote it as a historical fantasy; it works so well as the latter it's hard to envision it any other way.

 Paris to the Moon, Adam Gopnik
For my second foray into French life, I picked Gopnik's book of essays chronicling his family's life in France. From 1995 through 2000, Gopnik, his wife Martha, and their young son Luke lived in Paris, where Gopnik and Luke spent lyrical days playing in the park and riding the charming, antique carousel, and he and his wife experienced the day-to-day differences of life in France and lived quite differently from their former hectic existence in New York City. Gopnik gets involved in a movement to save a favorite restaurant, observes the quirks of French life, participates in a sweet "romance" between his little boy and a girl his own age during swimming excursions, and, in a charming sequence, makes up a baseball story about a child prodigy that becomes his son's favorite bedtime tale. If this lyrically-written memoir stalls at all, it's when Gopnik talks about French politics, which, predictably, are as boring as their American counterparts. (Gopnik's use of language is one of the treats of this volume. One of my favorite passages comes when he describes a depressing visit to the Bibliothèque Nationale, which includes this piece of description, "A stray piece of foliage peeks out forlornly from some of the enclosures, like Hans's fingers from the witch's cage.") Otherwise, Paris becomes tangible from his descriptions of cafes and food, walks in the park and visits to gardens, the gentleness of life, and even the absence of one annoying purple dinosaur in French toddler society. For those who love Paris or dream of going there.

 Trixie Belden and the Mystery of the Headless Horseman, Kathryn Kenny
I had to read another one right away to get the bad Sasquatch taste out of my mouth. Thankfully, this outing is much better!

The Bob-Whites are all involved in a UNICEF charity bazaar to be held on the Lynch property, and are aghast when the Lynches' butler, Harrison, who was to have coordinated the event while Di's parents were away, disappears. According to the Lynches' cook, he rode off on a bicycle and never returned. Bicycle tracks lead them to a little house in Sleepyside Hollow, where Trixie and Honey find Harrison locked in the cellar! How did he get locked in there? And why won't he tell the girls why he was there?

But, even more spookily, why is there a "headless horseman" riding around the house when Trixie and Honey go back to the property to free a trapped cat?

There's also a very funny subplot where Mart decides to teach the Beldens' scatterbrained Irish setter Reddy to obey orders that actually works out well for the kids. Wordplay will help you solve the mystery within the mystery. Just one question: you mean to tell me that Trixie, Honey, etc. have been riding all over for...well, at least a year book time and they never found the way to Sleepyside Hollow?Ah, inconsistency, thy name is ghostwriter.

 Yes, I Could Care Less, Bill Walsh
What can I say about this book? If you're looking for a grammar lesson, this isn't the volume for you. On the other hand, if you're the type of person, like me, who winces at grammar and spelling errors online, and, even worse, in books, you'll probably enjoy this grumpy, tongue-very-in-cheek commentary about the English language, and when and if it's permissible to indulge in bad grammar and when you can just let it go. Walsh's plays-on-words and never-ending streams of jokes do go on a bit long; I recommend a chapter a night even for the most dedicated fan of English. But I did get quite a few laughs out of his commentary, especially the collection of tweets on every odd-numbered page, and quite enjoyed "The Curmudgeon's Stylebook" at the end. Plus, there are usage tips as you wind your way around the puns.

 Die Laughing, Carola Dunn
How does Daisy do it—even in pain she finds a mystery!

Daisy Dalrymple Fletcher has a toothache, and she finally conquers her fear of the dentist to go to a highly-recommended doctor, the handsome Mr. Talmadge. However, when Daisy arrives for surgery hours, the office is still closed, and when she finally gains entry along with Talmadge's nurse, he's dead, having taken too much nitrous oxide without benefit of oxygen. At first everyone thinks the dentist, who "indulged" in laughing gas the way others have a nip or two of liquor, died by accident, but Daisy notes things that point to only one conclusion: murder. And the prime suspect seems to be hysterical Mrs. Talmadge, whose love affair hasn't been as circumspect as she hoped. But was the dentist himself all that innocent?; rumors keep flying about his own affairs.

This is a nice solid entry in the Daisy Dalrymple mystery series, although there's something one of the characters says near the last third of the book that will twig you to the murderer, if only you will notice it.Once again, I love the 1920s world that surrounds Daisy, AleC, and their family and friends: the slang, the foods and manners. And there's always the inevitable question: will Daisy's mother ever accept Alec? Or his mother ever accept Daisy? Only time will tell.

 Eiffel's Tower, Jill Jonnes
For the third and last of my French books, I plucked this one from the stacks as I had just heard the author speak on a 2009 "Travels With Rick Steves" podcast, and was immediately immersed in the world of the construction of the Eiffel Tower as part of the 1889 Paris Exposition.

The Eiffel Tower is so much a symbol of Paris today that it is hard to believe that when it was being built it was considered a monstrosity. Art patrons, newspapers, and citizens of Paris alike complained about the ugly iron edifice growing foot by foot between the river Seine and the Champ de Mars. Eiffel had to guarantee payment to several building owners near the site of the tower, since they were afraid the lofty structure would collapse and destroy their property. Eiffel himself had a running feud with the Otis Elevator engineers who would install the elevators in the tower's legs because they were not finished in time for the fair's opening—because Eiffel kept changing the structure of the legs. You are there as each platform is built, and finally ascend to the top level, where Eiffel had a lavish apartment and rooms full of scientific equipment.

It's also the story of the personalities who came to the Exposition and visited the tower: "Buffalo Bill" Cody and his Wild West show (including sharpshooter Annie Oakley and more than four dozen Sioux), unknowns in France before the Exposition opening and darlings of the country by the time it closed; James McNeill Whistler, the flamboyant expatriate American painter who wanted his art exhibited "just so";  James Gordon Bennett, the erratic editor of the Paris edition of the New York Herald; Rosa Bonheur, the acclaimed elderly painter who had special permission to wear pants instead of traditional skirts; and Thomas Edison, who had come to the Exhibition to promote his new improved phonograph and whose exhibit of inventions far surpassed the other American exhibits, not to mention a conclave of French art lovers determined to keep more French art from ending up in American hands.

This is a wonderfully-written book that made me feel that I was at the Paris Exposition experiencing the building of the tower and becoming intimate acquaintances with people like Eiffel, Edison, Cody, Whistler, and the rest. I'll never forget this "summer at the fair."

 One Summer: America 1927, Bill Bryson
What a trip! I went from 1889 Paris to the United States in the summer of 1927, as brought to life by the inimitable Bill Bryson. Chronicling the events beginning in May when several teams of aviators prepare to compete for a $25,000 prize offered by Raymond Orteig for a nonstop New York-to-Paris (or vice-versa) flight (among the bigger names participating is a Minnesota unknown named Lindbergh, who will be flying a tiny aircraft) and ending in September, Bryson paints "the Roaring Twenties" in big, colorful brushstrokes, a decade—and a summer—when the United States and not Europe began to make news.

In a sprawling narrative joined by the thread of Lindbergh's flight and subsequent fame (which appalled the reserved airman) celebrated by a tour of the United States, Bryson introduces us to the colorful characters of the era: "Big Bill" Thompson, the mayor of Chicago, who wasn't big on intelligence, but who had a loyal political following; Ruth Snyder and Judd Gray, whose murder of Snyder's husband was as big as the OJ trial; Herbert Hoover, the superlative organizer and engineer whom no one had ever seen laugh; Al Capone; hard living and hard playing Babe Ruth; the quiet powerhouse Lou Gehrig; taciturn Calvin Coolidge, who kept his nose out of other people's business—including the thousands displaced by Mississippi River flooding; Henry Ford; the big fight between Jack Dempsey and Gene Tunney (broadcast over radio by a mellifluous newcomer named Graham MacNamee); and Sacco and Vanzetti—to name just a few. We are taken from Prohibition Chicago to the sky over the Atlantic to Mount Rushmore; from ballparks to hotels to the top of a flagpole where "Shipwreck Kelly" holds court. We also meet the unhappy realities of the time: the racists especially embodied by the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan, the eugenicists who believe "the unfit" should be sterilized, the criminals brought to fame by Prohibition, even the United States government poisoning their own citizens with alcohol additives to curb drinking.

This is like a delightful set of snapshots of a bygone era; don't expect much depth, but that's not what the book is all about. My only caveat is that I found at least one very obvious historical era, and, not knowing all the details of that era, expect that there could be more. No matter—pick your favorite aspect of this book and research it more thoroughly, but in the meantime enjoy this breezy portrait of 1927 America.

 What's the Number for 911?, Leland H. Gregory III
A perfect book to keep in the bathroom for those "unavoidable delays," as Frank Gilbreth called them, short, mostly one-page tales about the crazy calls made to 911 emergency centers. Embarrassingly enough, the book ends with a local blooper from 1996: the frantic efforts of the 911 operators in Atlanta to put in a report of a bomb threat at the then brand-new Centennial Olympic Park because the automated 911 system required a street address, which they didn't know. Before they were able to get it into the system, the bomb went off.

Committing Book

There's this evil, evil site.

It tells  you what book sales are being held at local libraries all around the country. A friend of mine reminded me of it last week on Facebook, and I noticed there was one at the Northside Library today. Most of the books were $1 except for certain volumes (like big picture books like the lighthouse book), and two were a quarter and 50 cents.

 Boston Firsts (40 of them!)
 Sprezzatura: 50 Ways Italian Genius Shaped the World
 A Charmed Life: The Spirituality of Potterworld
 So Far From Home (a "Dear America" about an Irish mill girl in Lowell)
 What's the Number for 911? (a bathroom book)
 Twentieth-Century Girl (basically a "Dear America" book from Great Britain, and written by Carol Drinkwater from All Creatures Great and Small)
 My Love Affair With England: A Traveler's Memoir
 The Child That Books Built: A Life in Reading by Francis Spufford
 Colonial America: A Traveler's Guide (Colonial sites you can visit, with large dollops of history)
 Queen of Shaba, Joy Adamson book about an African leopard
 This England, a collection of "National Geographic" articles
 Stories Behind Everyday Things, one of the "Reader's Digest" compilation books I so love
 Lighthouses of New England (aw, how could I resist? especially with a full color photo of Point Judith Light at night)

and a lovely book, brand new, that I won't even mention, because it incorporates two things a friend of mine loves, and I plan to give it as a gift.

Since I had (a) a Barnes & Noble 20 percent off coupon and (b) was just a hop, skip and a jump from the Buckhead store, I went there. I found several likely prospects, including the paperback copy of Thieftaker (I was at one of the author's panels last year at DragonCon), but bought The Diaries of Nella Last, which I'd read about on a book blog in the past. These are the edited diaries of a British woman during World War II and afterward during the austerity period.

Plus when I got home, the book I found on Amazon for only $5 with shipping, Autumn: A Spiritual Biography, had arrived.

So many books. So little time.

Books Finished Since June 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An interesting take on what was once an American phenomenon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Food for the Mind

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

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

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

November 1912 - April 1913  

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

From a year earlier: November 1911 - April 1912

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

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

Books Finished Since May 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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