Books Completed Since April 1

 Sergeant Stubby, Anna Bausum
This is the second time in four years I've discovered a new book based upon information I read first in a children's book published in the late 1950s, so it amused me a bit to see this book publicized as the "first time" Stubby's story is being told. Sergeant Stubby, a stray Boston terrier (or possibly Boston mix) who wandered out onto an Army training field in 1917, became the mascot of the 102nd Infantry and accompanied "the doughboys" to Europe. While in service, he was gassed and also physically injured in an attack. Stubby's story (and also the story of Snowman the jumping horse told in The Eighty Dollar Champion) was told in Patrick Lawson's More Than Courage, published by Whitman Books.

Much of Bausum's story of Stubby and his "handler," Robert Conroy, and their experiences in World War I is that of conjecture, as Conroy kept no diary. However, after the war, when Stubby was welcomed home to as much acclaim as the men he served with, Conroy did keep a scrapbook, and much of that information is happily firsthand. Bausum does a super job of describing Stubby's and Conroy's world in the 'teens: the pre-war U.S., the world of the training camps and the trenches, the endless mud and disease and the very real terror of being killed or maimed, the horror of gas. There is also discussion of just what breed of dog Stubby was, as he has been described at various times as a pit bull, a bull terrier, or some other bully breed.

Since this year marks the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of the first World War, Sergeant Stubby is a lively and painless way to review the American experience during the event by following an affable dog and his devoted owner, and the book is scattered with vintage war illustrations, and photographs and ephemera from Stubby's scrapbook, plus a close-up of his famous jacket with all its ribbons and medals.

Note to Ann Bausum: if you don't want to drive every Bostonian (and possibly every New Englander) who reads this book mad, please correct the typos in the "Stateside" chapter which refer to the Boston "Commons." It is the "Common," singular, and has never been "Commons." Ever.

 Stuff Matters, Mark Miodownik
I loved this book.

I'd never heard about "material science" when I went to school, but biology left me cold, chemistry was absorbing in the laboratory, but the mathematical portion of the course was over my head. Needless to say, after that, physics was out. :-) But earth science I loved, and I would have loved a course on material science, especially if Mark Miodownik was the teacher. I found myself smiling as I read the science behind the everyday things in our lives: concrete, steel, paper, glass—even chocolate—and the most enjoyable part was that his prose was illuminating and the scientific concepts were clearly explained. Instead of being puzzled by the concepts, I found them completely understandable. Perhaps, for people who are more science-oriented it might have been simplistic, but I found it fascinating, especially the chapter about the silica aerogel.

Miodownik has an easygoing writing style that I really enjoyed, reminding me of Bill Bryson and James Burke. My only problem with this book is that I wish it could have been twice as long! I'll be looking forward to his next book, especially if concerning the same subject.

 My Gentle Barn, Ellie Laks
Ellie Laks spent a difficult childhood in a home and with a family she found distant and uncaring, and she almost always felt like an outsider at school. Her only solace was with her dog and other animals that she befriended. She felt animals spoke directly into her heart. Her early adult years were troubled as she met a man who got her into drugs. Finally she broke away from drugs, married, and had a child. But animals in distress still called to her, and for some time she ran a dog rescue. One day she adopted a sick goat from a badly-run, abusive petting zoo. Over the years she collected more creatures from the same petting zoo and realized what she really wanted to do was run a shelter for abused animals. This is her story of how her dream came true and she founded The Gentle Barn, a refuge that also helps neglected children.

This is an inspiring story, although it's sad and ironic that Ellie neglected her first husband, who didn't plan on having a backyard full of rescued creatures occupying all of her time, the same way that she talks about parents neglecting her. I'm rather surprised he didn't abandon the marriage earlier. The fact that animals "talk" to her without speech and tell her their names sounds a bit farfetched as well, the bottom line is that The Gentle Barn does special rescue work, and the children who visit the farm, victims of abuse, are helped emotionally by hearing the stories of and tending these animals. It's a story of long days, hard work, heartbreak, and a person who rises above emotional troubles to help others. Animal lovers especially will enjoy.

 I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly: The Diary of Patsy, A Freed Girl, Joyce Hansen
Patsy has lived on the Mars Bluff plantation belonging to the Davis family all her life. Since she has always been lame and when she speaks, she stammers, everyone—or at least those who are not close to her—thinks she is stupid. She must complete the most boring chores day after day, appropriate for someone considered slow-witted. But Patsy's stammer hides a quck mind: she has taught herself to read and write by observing the white children's lessons. Now that the Civil War is over, what will happen to the plantation slaves? Their former masters are supposed to give them land and build them a school, but they're pretending as if nothing has happened. Some of the former slaves even want life to remain the same.

There are two stories here that meld into one: the story of the dilemma of the slaves themselves about their futures and the story of Patsy, who comes into herself as an individual and as a person who has formerly been beaten down by criticism who suddenly finds she has talents to share. From the "dummy" of the plantation, Patsy becomes a teacher her friends can depend on. A nice, solid story of real-life plantation life (not the romanticized pap of the last century). According to the sticker, this book won a Coretta Scott King Award.

 Edison and the Rise of Innovation, Leonard DeGraff
This is a marvelous coffee-table type volume chronicling Thomas Edison and his inventions. While Edison's biography is briefly touched upon, and his first invention (a stock ticker) and lesser inventions are commented upon, the book mainly chronicles Edison's most famous innovations, the ones that changed peoples' lives, including the phonograph, the long-lasting electric light bulb (Edison did not invent the first electric light bulb; arc lights were in use for many decades earlier, but they threw a harsh light and were expensive—what Edison invented was an inexpensive light bulb that most people could afford to use in their homes), motion pictures, portland cement, storage batteries, and rubber, plus a look at his laboratories, which were the innovation centers of the time.

The most wonderful thing about this book are the beautiful illustrations throughout: modern and vintage photographs of the inventions, workshops, and people involved, and illustrations of Edison's notebooks, vintage advertisements, newspaper stories, patent illustrations, engravings, and store displays of Edison products. It's a virtual museum of historical objects and persons to make any history buff drool. If you're interested in the age of invention, this is a great bet; those looking for a detailed bio of Edison will need to look elsewhere.

 Birdmen, Lawrence Goldstone
At the turn of the century, not only the Wright brothers dreamt of the sky. From Otto Lillenthal and his wings to Octave Chanute, Augustus Herring, Samuel Langley, Louis Bleriot, and the man the Wrights considered their greatest rival, Glenn Curtiss, men on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean wrestled with the problem of heavier-than-air travel. Birdmen chronicles the steps—and often mis-steps—in the efforts to fly.

I have to be honest; it's my husband who's the aviation buff, but I've been to so many aviation museums with him I've taken a liking to the early aspects of aviation, including ballooning and the career of the Wright brothers. I thought this book would be more enjoyable than it was; it's a very knowledgable, but I also found it very dry, especially the parts devoted to the Wright brothers' efforts to slap lawsuits on anyone who seemed to be copying their patented wing-warping innovation. The book is at its best when it chronicles the groundbreaking flights and the dismal failures, the air races, and the structural innovations. The legal aspects are otherwise rather tedious.

 A Brief Guide to Star Trek, Brian J. Robb
As someone who bought Stephen Whitfield's The Making of Star Trek when it was published back in the late 1960s, the question might be "What could yet another book say about this series that you didn't know?" Rather a lot, actually, as it's not just about the original series, but all the spin offs, the films, and the reboot. Since we got bored with Voyager in second season, Enterprise after first season, and missed great chunks of the last two seasons of DS9 because of its broadcast time (and because, up against Babylon 5, there really wasn't much choice which one we would watch regularly), we also missed a lot of what went on with the various series, and it was nice to read a wrap-up, and such things like the Voyager cast's criticism of the show's shortcomings, examinations of what worked and what didn't in Enterprise, and other later tidbits were interesting. There's a surprising lot of Trek information packed into this small book.

 Tales of the New England Coast, anthology, Castle Books
It literally took me years to buy this book. I first saw it way back in the late 1980s in Oxford Too, the late Oxford Books' remaindered/used outlet, but always gave it a miss. But recently a one-dollar price tag changed my mind.

These are stories about New England taken from old magazines like "Scribners" and "New England Magazine," from the time period 1884 to 1910, ranging in subjects from fisher folk to historical sites like Salem, Massachusetts, and the Naval Torpedo Station in Newport, Rhode Island, to historical portraits like the story of the Boston Post Road and the stagecoaches that traveled it. In typical adult Victorian magazine style, the narratives are voluble and occasionally very dense. I was struck by the social snobbery of several of the articles, especially "Newport," which seemed to be primarily about the titled people who lived glittering lives in their summer homes, as if the ordinary citizen of the city wasn't good enough to write about.

The articles, however, make you think about how the country has changed in over one hundred years. It's not just the lack of modern technology, but the close-knit, often remote communities that existed back then. "Fisher folk" are discussed as if they are some alien breed of humans, and one article concentrates on the "characters" that exist on the Maine coast. Our society has become so homogenized we don't really have groups like this any longer, unless they are some religious sect.

In addition, there are dozens of black and white photographs of "how it used to be" in tourist areas like Martha's Vineyard, Salem, Block Island, Gloucester, Cape Cod, and Bar Harbor, showing lovely country views of places now covered with blacktop, billboards, and businesses. It will make you long to take a time machine back to the quiet beauty of these places.

 Elementary, edited by Mercedes Lackey
This is a second collection of stories based on Lackey's Elemental Masters novels, in which Air, Earth, Water, and Fire mages exist in an alternate Britain between 1890 and 1918. The short stories, however, have a broader range and take place from the Aztec era to Edwardian Britain, with the final tale, Lackey's own, in an indeterminate era based on the Red Riding Hood legend (a preview of her next Elemental Masters novel).

In general I liked this total collection better than the last, but the complaints I had in the first book still stand: several stories are just incidents rather than complete stories, such as "Feathers and Foundations," which is an anecdote about the Warders and the ravens at the Tower of London. Others, like "The Flying Contraption," involving a little girl and the Wright brothers, were just strange. I enjoyed "Fire Storm," although very little elemental magic moved the story. Then there was "London Falling," an interesting, but grisly, story that is a fictional follow-on to the true crime book Devil in the White City. "Air of Deception" is a new story about Aurelia Degard, apprentice parfumeuse, and one of the better entries.

Like the previous book, the cover was done on the cheap, using snippets from other Elemental Masters novels. Sad that the publisher itself doesn't even value these books.

 Dying in the Wool, Frances Brody
Kate Shackleton's husband disappeared in the carnage of the first World War and, in the four years since he was declared lost in action, Kate has developed a small talent for searching for missing persons. When a friend she nursed with in the Voluntary Aid Detachment asks her to take on a search for her father, the owner of a profitable woolen mill who disappeared in 1916 after having been rescued from a suicide attempt, she attempts to make a go of it professionally. Needing an extra hand, Kate employs John Sykes, an out-of-work police officer, and stays with her friend Tabitha in the weeks before her wedding to delve quietly into the mystery from the family point of view. And what she finds are plenty of secrets.

This is an English country mystery in the classic style, with an appealing, if not exactly sparkling protagonist, and a slow-moving, yet twisting narrative with a surprise or two around every bend. We get an interesting portrait of Britain in the 1920s, in which a woman driving her own car is a novelty, yet the period details don't overpower the story, and the woolen mill details are fascinating. Best yet, Kate and John's relationship is refreshingly unmarred by sexual tension. If you're looking for a fast-moving modern-style detective novel, this isn't it; if you enjoy cozies alà Christie, it may be a perfect fit.

 Call The Midwife: Farewell to the East End, Jennifer Worth
This is the third and final book in Worth's trilogy based upon her career as a midwife in London's dockland slums. This time Jenny, Cynthia, Trixie, and Chummy as well as the Sisters of Nonnatus House must deal with an unmarried girl whose delivery will be as much a surprise as it is for the midwife, the amazing story of a pregnant woman where no woman should ever be, and the identical twins Mavis and Meg who prove formidable when the former is expecting. Sister Monica Joan continues to prove mercurial, and we finally see how Chummy meets and courts her policeman. Worth also provides grim stories about tuberculosis that runs in families and back-alley abortionists; in a lighter note, a chimney cleaning and a birth combined prove a sooty operation.

While the stories about the midwives and the nuns are as lively as ever, I think Worth was running out of novel experiences for this final book, and it is padded out with extended stories about each of the mothers and children, plus some horrific historical facts, including the story of the abuses of the Contagious Disease (Women) Act. There is a welcome epilog to let us know what happened to each of the characters after the Docklands were cleared and Nonnatus House closed for good.

 The Prime Minister's Secret Agent, Susan Elia MacNeal
I'm tempted to call this outing "How Maggie got her groove back."

Margaret Hope, former American mathematician, now a British spy, is still recovering from her arduous mission in Berlin in which she discovered she had a German half-sister, confronted her mother (a Nazi spy), killed a man, and rescued her lover—who promptly dumped her when he found she'd turned to another man after he was declared dead. Maggie's now training spies in Scotland, where she struggles with depression, while her mother Clara, imprisoned in the Tower of London, slowly reveals a grisly secret. And then Maggie's close friend Sarah becomes critically ill after being accused of murder.

Frankly, most of this book isn't about Maggie at all, but about the machinations behind the attack on Pearl Harbor, from Dusan Popov's warning to J. Edgar Hoover about certain suspicious Japanese military movements to the fateful hours just before and after (you may be interested, or perhaps even a bit outraged, at who MacNeal speculates knew about the attack beforehand). In the meantime Maggie searches for the source of Sarah's illness (a mystery that takes a page out of an episode of Foyle's War; and I was amused that Porton Down was mentioned just after I had seen the episode of The Bletchley Circle that referenced this war location). Make no mistake, the multiple plotlines keep the pages turning, but there's a little less of Maggie Hope in this Maggie Hope mystery. Incidentally, MacNeal's anachronisms still jar: I don't think people referred to "the big picture" back then.

 A Coal Miner's Bride: The Diary of Anetka Kaminska, Susan Campbell Bartoletti
Thirteen-year-old Anetka lives in a Poland that has been conquered by the Russians, so she is understandably annoyed when a young Russian soldier begins flirting with her. But her lot seems thrown in with him when he, she, and her little brother head for America with steamship tickets provided by a man who works in a Pennsylvania coal mine with her emigrant father—the price of the tickets? Anetka must marry the man—and be mother to his three small daughters.

This is a vivid portrayal of the hardships of immigrants in the coal mining industry in the late 19th century. Anetka goes from a poor but bucolic rural environment to a filthy, rude, poverty-stricken life, living with a man she does not love, but whose children she does come to care about. The immigrants are hated by the American citizens who seem to have forgotten they were immigrants once themselves, who fear the "hunkies" will steal jobs from them, and they are cheated at every turn by the mine owners and foremen. The early activities of the Mine Workers' union play a role in the story as well, underlined by the very real specter of Anetka's loneliness.

The setting of this book was also appealing in that this was the situation my grandparents entered upon coming to the United States: from rural Italy to a coal-mining village in eastern Ohio. The romance is also very sweet.

Books Completed Since March 1

Where are all the books for March? Well, I was finishing the winter magazines I didn't read in the winter because I was catching up reading the Christmas magazines. And I was dipping into The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries almost every night. And because I started a bunch that I haven't yet finished. So that's why there are only...goggle...three books in here. Be assured I was reading. :-D

Sherlock Holmes FAQ, Dave Thompson
Two things are very obvious after reading this book: Dave Thompson loves the series Sherlock and doesn't like the series Elementary. And he manages to check off a selected list about Sherlock pastiches and books with Sherlockian protagonists, including Alan Bradley's Flavia de Luce novels, and never once mentions Laurie King's now at-least-ten-book series featuring Sherlock Holmes and Mary Russell. I think I know what that means. :-)

Using the gimmick of naming the chapters as if they were the titles of Sherlock Holmes adventures (which does get tiresome after awhile) and writing as if the narrative is a Victorian mystery, Thompson tells the story of Arthur Conan Doyle, son of an alcoholic father and a mother who protected him from his rages, the story of the "Strand" magazine, and finally all about the canon story-by-story and interesting notes about each (a River Song warning: spoilers!), followed by commentary on Holmes media adaptations, going all the way back to the William Gillette play that gave the world a Holmes eternally in deerstalker cap and with meerschaum pipe.

In addition, the book is dotted with numerous illustrations of Holmes illustrations, photographs of actors who played Holmes and Watson, movie posters, cigarette cards, Sherlock Holmes games, and more. If you're a Holmes devotee, you may not find anything new here, but it's in a smart package that's altogether enjoyable if you, like me, can't get enough of the world's favorite consulting detective. 

Louisa Alcott: Girl of Old Boston, Jean Brown Wagner
This is a charming, child-oriented biography in Bobbs-Merrill's "Childhood of Famous Americans" series, illustrated with darling silhouette illustrations. As a juvenile biography from the 1940s, it takes a simple, childlike view of Louisa's early life and much of the reality of what actually happened is missing: the endless, grinding household work; going hungry because her father's teaching didn't bring in much money; the Alcotts' mercurial fortunes. But as a simple introduction to Louisa's childhood, it's perfect for a younger child interested in "how people lived."

I was amused by the endpapers, which feature some of the famous women portrayed in the series. In probably my favorite "Dear America" novel, Lasky's Christmas After All, her young heroine Minnie accompanies her sister to the Bobbs-Merrill Christmas party (her sister works there) and is given a biography of Martha Washington. Minnie makes a face and asks why they don't do biographies of more interesting women, ones who do things, like her favorite, Amelia Earhardt. According to the end papers, Bobbs-Merrill apparently "took Minnie's advice" and did do a bio of Earhardt. :-)

 Fic: Why Fanfiction is Taking Over the World, Anne Jamison and others
Fanfiction isn't anything new. It wasn't born with Trekkies writing Mary Sue fiction about Spock. Unauthorized sequels to Jane Austen novels popped up almost immediately, and sequels and alternate versions continue to appear (a novel about Pride and Prejudice from the viewpoint of the servants was just recently released).  J.M. Barrie wrote Sherlock Holmes fic along with Peter Pan; Sherlockian "fanfic" has existed almost as long as there has been a Holmes and Watson, and Arthurian fanfiction and sequels to noted novels like Don Quixote dot literature. Austen herself even wrote fanfiction as a child, about the Duke of Wellington.

Anyway, as a fanfiction reader and writer, I had, had, had to have this book, and in general I enjoyed it. I have the two classic fanfiction books, Jenkins' Textual Poachers and Bacon-Smith's Enterprising Women, and this looked as if it were a good update into the world of today's internet fanfiction. And so it is; just past page 100 the past of mimeographs and offset printing has been overtaken by online fic, and I was enlightened.

Still, things bothered me. First, for anyone who likes fanfiction but who is sensitive to swearing, be advised this book is full of strong language. Second, there seems to be an overreliance on Twilight fanfiction in the narrative. Third—where's all the gen fanfic? Almost every online fanfic addressed between pages 107-388 is het or slash fic. I have no objection to adult fic. I've written adult fic. But where are the character studies, the adventure tales, the hurt/comfort, the fill-ins? I came out of the book with the bemused impression that 100 percent of online fanfiction is about sexual encounters, and it only confirmed that I have no interest in who Bella Swan bonks. So—it's enjoyable, it's informative, but it's rather one-sided. Be forewarned.

Got Book?

James left early for his club meeting so he could give a disabled member a ride. I went back to the book sale; I was right about it being slim pickings: previously they had put out more books on Saturday and again on Sunday. I wonder if people are now taking their books to 2nd and Charles to trade for credit rather than donating them. Anyway:

To Conquer the Air: The Wright Brothers and the Great Race for Flight, James Tobin (mostly for James)
Cape Cod and the Offshore Islands, Walter Teller
Christmas in Williamsburg, Joanne B. Young  and Taylor Biggs Lewis Jr
Wandering Through Winter, Edwin Way Teale (this is part of a series of four seasonal travelogues through the United States, done before the interstates were built; looks fascinating)

and a brand new book that I bought as a gift.

Book Sale Tally

The semi-annual Cobb County Library book sale was today. I keep saying I'm not going to buy much. LOL. Actually, the pickings weren't all that good, but I did get a couple of goodies. Oh, and I did end up getting more of the World Book Christmas books, even if I'm not all that interested in Christmas in warm places.

Louisa Alcott: Girl of Old Boston, Jean Brown Wagoner
Rocket Ship Galileo, Robert Heinlein (this for James, a hardback copy—don't think I've ever read this one)
Christmas in...Scandinavia, ...Mexico, ...the Philippines
Christmas in the Big House, Christmas in the Quarters, Patricia C. and Frederick L. McKissack
Sears, Roebuck and Co, 100th Anniversary 1886-1986 (with photographs)
The Cuckoo's Calling, Robert Galbraith (::wink::)
The Art of Raising a Puppy, The Monks of New Skete
Hattie Big Sky, Kirby Larson (set during the first World War)
So Dear to My Heart, Jane Goyer (I read this as a library book ten years ago)
Place Names of the English-Speaking World, C.M. Matthews
One Dozen and One, Gladys Taber (short stories)
Sylvia's Farm, Sylvia Jorrin (I may have this already, but it was only a dollar)
Santa and Pete, Christopher Moore and Pamela Johnson
The Dirty Life, Kristin Kimball (this was on my Amazon Wish List, so I'm chuffed)
Over the Beach: The Air War in Vietnam, Zalin Grant (for James)

and a Gladys Taber book I already have, but I'm trying to get a blog friend to read Taber, so I'm going to send it to her. 

Books Completed Since February 1

 The Late Scholar, Jill Paton Walsh
[warning: spoiler if you haven't read any of Walsh's previous Wimsey novels] One of the perks of Peter Wimsey's new role as Duke of Denver is that he is the Visitor—an impartial judge of any contested decision—at Oxford University, where both he and Harriet were educated and where an ugly mystery finally drew them together. The college dons cannot decide whether to sell an historical, but relatively unimportant, manuscript, and feelings are heated on both sides. Then the don who might have cast the deciding vote dies, and they ask Peter to arbitrate. But more people begin dying, and in a manner having to do with murders Peter has investigated and Harriet has used in her novels.

Again, you can't expect Walsh to be Sayers; the books are no longer sprinkled with quotations or passages in French. Nor have Peter or Harriet remained static; it's the 1950s now and they have changed along with a changing culture; I noticed some reviewers were upset when Bunter sat down at table with the Wimseys or when they used American slang, but as the song said, "the times they are a'changing," and the Wimseys have gone along with it—American culture had continued to affect British culture as it began to do in the 1940s. Plus I'm for any novel that brings Peter and Harriet back to Oxford, since I love books set in England's two primary university towns; they sound so wonderful! Some old friends from Gaudy Night, like Miss de Vine and Miss Lydgate (who has yet another manuscript in process!), even appear. Just wish Walsh had not made Hope Bunter disappear; she merits only a mention in this one.

As long as you're not expecting Sayers, this is an enjoyable mystery with more than a few twists. (And to the publishers, Hodder & Stoughton: What were  you thinking? The paperback cover is plain ugly.)

 Valley of the Moon, Sherry Garland ("Dear America")
Maria Rosario and her brother Domingo are orphans, rescued by missionaries who found the small children next to their deceased mother's body, and later adopted by servants at the Medina ranch. Thanks to the mission priest, she can read and write, and she begins keeping a chronicle of her life of drudgery at the ranch and of the foibles of the daughters of the ranch owner, especially the mercurial elder daughter being courted by an American settler living in California. Set in the year just before the discovery of gold at Sutter's Fort, this easygoing narrative chronicles the day-to-day life in the Sonoma ranchlands of California before it became a state. The author does not flinch at portraying many of the practices of the 19th century, and both cockfighting and bullfighting are mentioned as everyday occurrences. A minor quibble: the ending of the story rather smacks of classic Victoriana about orphan children.

 Abraham Lincoln in the Kitchen: a Culinary View of Lincoln's Life and Times, Rae Katherine Eighmey
My cooking skills are minor, but my love of history is unbounded, so that books about food history are "devoured" (pun intended) as eagerly as a more general history text. This is an enjoyable survey of American food habits from frontier to "high society" as we follow Abraham Lincoln from his country childhood to his final residence in the White House, from simple, homey foods like corn dodgers and gingerbread cookies to French-inspired recipes and meat dishes for "company." Eighmey not only reproduces historical recipes, but talks about the 19th century food preparation process, to go so far as to hand-crush corn for proper frontier-style hominy and set a appropriate sponge for breadmaking. There are even details about the type of food the frontiersmen and Civil War soldiers would have made around the campfire, and also of sickroom foods. We also see Abraham and Mary Lincoln in a different light from the now customary costumed movie figures, as a 19th century husband and wife who go about ordinary day-to-day chores like preparing food for cookery (milking cows, raising vegetables, etc.) and the cooking itself. Lincoln not only cooked for himself as a single man "baching it" but helped his wife prepare meals; he didn't stand about all the time in a suit and a stovepipe hat looking wise. :-)

Even if you "burn water," this tasty history text should please history fans as well as foodies. Fans of Barbara Walker's classic The Little House Cookbook, which mentions a couple of the same recipes, will especially find much to like here.

 Life in the Fabulous '50s, Remininsce Books
Sadly, they were sold out of the 1940s book, which is what I really wanted, but this Christmas gift from James had charms all its own, even though I was too young to remember poodle skirts, ducktails, early Elvis, the rise of tailfins, DeSotos and Edsels, car hops, and President Eisenhower. But by luck some of those 50s things lasted into the 1960s: classic television like The Roy Rogers Show, Lassie with Jeff, Highway Patrol, Sergeant Preston; old cars; Loretta Young's swirling skirts; hula hoops and other classic kids' games; and a whole bunch of other things it was fun reliving: trips to the drive-in, picnics, beach excursions, phonographs, and other '50s nostalgia. 

 More Tea, Vicar?, Nigel Rees
I bought this just for the heck of it, because it looked funny: a dictionary of catchphrases for various situations, the titular "More tea, vicar?" is said to cover up an embarrassing situation, like breaking wind. There are also "nannyisms" ("If you cross your eyes, they'll stick that way."), mangled words (mispronouncing "Neapolitan" as in ice cream, for instance), and many, many euphemisms for using the lavatory (of which "going to the smallest room" many be the most sensible). These are Britishisms, so they may be unfamiliar to many, but most are very funny. I especially loved the nannyisms, which used wordplay to great effect.

 Doctor Who 50th Anniversary Collection, anthology
This is a collection of eleven short stories first published as e-books written to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the series. Had I not plowed on through the first story, an imaginative but very strange story about the first Doctor and an artificial hand, and his having to rescue Susan, who has tried to help some children only to have all of them captured by Soul Pirates (with a nice twist at the end, I grant you), I might not have finished at all. I enjoyed the remainder of the stories much more, although the Third Doctor and Jo story was a bit of a disappointment (a bit stilted, and the Master rather boringly used). I particularly enjoyed the Fifth Doctor and Tegan story about children beguiled by a novelty called a Truth Teller. The Rani returns with excellent effect in the Sixth Doctor story, and then...anyway, I enjoyed them all, even if the strange first tale and the Doctor and Jo among the gods weren't quite up to snuff. The Eighth Doctor story was particularly creepy, as was the Eleventh.

 All The Stars in the Sky, Megan McDonald ("Dear America")
Florrie Mack and her brother Jem, along with her mother and new stepfather, are emigrating to Santa Fe from their home in Missouri. The Santa Fe Trail is filled with obstacles—weather, wagon breakdowns, injuries, deaths, illness, the gaining and the loss of friends, down to Florrie's sisterly battles with Jem and her getting used to Mr. Ryder as her stepfather. Along the trail Florrie endures thirst and hunger and fear for her mother, but also learns to draw from an artist in the wagon train and opens her mind to other cultures. This is a fine portrait of a young woman's experiences as part of the Western emigrant movement. It's nothing outstanding, and other novels have done it better, but it's a good starting point for any young person interested in the Westward movement.

 A Picture of Freedom, Patricia McKissack ("Dear America")
Clotee is a slave on a Virginia plantation on the eve of the Civil War. Chosen to work in "the Big House" and watch over spoiled Willie Belmont, Clotee pretends indifference during his lessons, but begins teaching herself to read. When a new girl in the kitchen, Spicy, clumsily takes on duties, Clotee and her fellow slaves wonder if she is a spy planted by the master and mistress to pass on any tales of rebellion. But instead the two girls become fast friends as injustices rise: a friend is unnecessarily killed, another demoted, others whipped. When Willie's new tutor arrives, it turns out he is secretly an abolitionist. Can he help Clotee escape?

McKissack is unsparing of the misery that slavery caused, but celebrates the resilience of those enslaved. She doesn't fall into the trap of making them all suffering martyrs; some cannot face the thought of brutal punishment and instead turn to lies or flattery to turn dangerous attention away from them, even though it empowers those who enslave them. There are also surprises from a couple of the white characters, even if the "massa" and the mistress are rather one-dimensional.

 Tomorrow-Land: The 1964-1965 World's Fair and the Transformation of America, Joseph Tirella
In 1964, my parents took me to the New York World's Fair. I was eight years old and, although we only attended for one day, it remains one of my most vivid childhood memories. I loved the dreams of the future proposed by General Motors and General Electric. The future looked bright: we were going to cure cancer, avert hunger, travel to distant planets, and abolish poverty.

At that age, however, I was little aware of the other tumult going on in the world aside what I saw on the news each evening: the Civil Rights movement, the murder of Kitty Genovese, the changes Beatlemania and Bob Dylan wrought on rock and roll, the rise of the drug culture, the escalation of the war in Vietnam. The author points out how the creators of the Fair—especially the hard-nosed Robert Moses, the master builder of the Fair, and the man who nearly ruined the city of New York with a cross-Manhattan freeway project—had lost touch with the changing face of the United States. The stories about the Civil Rights movement were heartbreaking and infuriating, the Vietnam stories sadly reflective since I was of the generation who watched the war unfold on television; a friend's father and my own cousin served there. Frankly, I found the rock and roll stuff boring and the drug culture just plain stupid, but it was part of the change going on in society at the time. A good read, but marred by typos that should have been corrected in the editing process, including the repeated use of " Jacob Javitz" for "Jacob Javits," even in the index.

 A Light in the Storm, Karen Hesse
This "Dear America" book is the story of Amelia Martin, whose father mans the lighthouse on Fenwick Island in Delaware in the months before the Civil War breaks out. It is a bleak, lonely life, with the island scoured by the sea, but Amelia—nicknamed "Wickie"—still loves it; her mother, however, who is tormented with arthritis and on some days can barely move, hates it. She and Wickie's father also disagree about the slavery issue consuming the country, so home life in the lighthouse is stormy even when the weather is bright.

I love stories about lighthouse keepers' families because it was often such a trial for the families who lived on these lonely spits of land, what with isolation and storms, and this is a sobering look at the realities. You can sympathize with Wickie's mother, driven by her pain, while also wondering how the woman can be so bitter. In addition, Hesse based the story on Ida Lewis from my native state of Rhode Island, who ran the light at Lime Rock for many years.

 The Traveler's Tricks: A Caroline Mystery, Laurie Calkhoven
There's one big problem with this story right off the bat if you're an adult. Yes, Caroline has proven she's very responsible. And yes, she'll be riding with her friend Rhonda on their long stagecoach ride. But I still can't see Caroline's father allowing a child, especially a female child, and in those dangerous days of the War of 1812, to carry valuable plans and a large amount of money on a several-days trip with spies everywhere. Surely there was some trusted employee at the shipyard who could have done it? Other passengers are also fearful of thieves. And why is a mysterious horseman following the coach?

The stage is robbed just as it is incapacitated by an accident: Caroline and Rhonda must find the stolen plans and money before they have to leave. There's a nice collection of suspects, including a sad young woman Caroline is certain has a secret, but that wretched bratty little boy aboard is really annoying. If you can get past the fact that it's bizarre for Caroline's father to have given her this job, it's a passable adventure—complete with talking pigs.

 A Growing Suspicion: A Rebecca Mystery, Jacqueline Dembar Greene
Rebecca's visiting her cousin Ana in Brooklyn, hoping her aunt will teach her the secret of her delicious knishes. But Ana is more interested in starting a garden, and, thanks to the vegetable patch she's trying to start, the girls befriend Ana's neighbor, Mr. Tanaka, who is helping to build the elaborate new Japanese garden at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. To Ana's delight, Tanaka asks the girls if they would like to help in the garden. But the moment Rebecca and Ana show up, things in the garden begin to be sabotaged, and the girls are blamed. Ana even thinks it's all Rebecca's fault after she pulls a prank.

This is a great look behind the building of the Japanese garden at the historic Brooklyn location, but a certain character is suspicious right from the start. The only question is why the person is doing it; you may "twig" early to the reason. It's hard to remove modern sensibilities from this; I know in those days children were considered incurable mischief-makers, so naturally Rebecca and Ana are blamed, but it's really irritating the way the adults pin it on them without a pin of evidence.

 Intruders at Rivermead Manor: A Kit Mystery, Kathryn Reiss
Of the three new "American Girl Mysteries," this one is my favorite, although there's a point where the Uncle Hendrick storyline becomes cliche (Kit's observation at the end also sounds a little too pat to come out of a girl her age). It has touches of Annie, and the novel doesn't shy away from using the correct descriptive terms of the time, such as "colored" for a person of color. Something is going on every minute! Kit is working for her uncle again, and on her way to his house, stops to help the elderly woman next door, Elsie Munnis. Kit soon finds out that the eccentric woman believes that time travelers are visiting her home. There's also the mystery of Kit's friend Jessamine, whose father used to work with Kit's dad; Kit keeps seeing her, but she won't tell Kit where she lives. Then Kit herself finds evidence of the time travelers: a woman's bonnet in an otherwise empty room. Could Miss Munnis, a science-fiction fan, be right?

Books Completed Since January 1

There are Christmas book reviews here, here, here, here, here, and here, in Holiday Harbour.

 The Race Underground, Doug Most
I fell in love with the T in 1979, on my first trip to Boston, and it’s always irritated me that I’ve never been able to find a history of the Boston subway system, the first in the United States. So happy this turned up, although the book’s promos seem a bit misleading: “Two Rival Cities, Two Brothers, Both With Plans to Build A Subway Underground. Who Will Be First?” (By the way, who would build a subway aboveground?) It seems to be playing up a rivalry between the two brothers, Henry and William Whitney, one in each city, but that didn’t seem to exist. The rivalry between the two cities, however, was quite real: both Boston and New York were determined to host the first underground transportation system. Traffic, like traffic today, was glacially slow, irritating, and clamorous, and made even worse by use of the horse, who deposited pounds of manure and quarts of urine each day (this fact is brought up regularly as the chapters progress, as if the author fears we will forget it). Horsecars were filthy inside and out, and there were dozens of different companies running transportation through the city streets. People wanted better transportation, but first they had to get over prejudices–most were afraid to walk to any transportation underground “where the Devil lived” and expected it to be dark and dank–and find a better propulsion fuel than coal, which filled the existing London “underground” with choking smoke.

Most takes us back to the first subway construction attempts in New York City, Alfred Beach’s pneumatic railway, which was blocked by “Boss” Tweed, who had money in the elevated system, and to the architects of both systems, who fear they may have to use coal, but really wish to use the cleaner invention of the time, electricity, which at first does not have the power to propel both cars and passengers. This is followed by the endless political wrangling in both cities, Boston’s eventual decision to build a subway using the cut-and-cover method, and the drama of that construction. The resulting, initial subway route was less than two miles, but did what it was intended to do: reduce traffic on city streets.

Most follows the personalities of each of the people involved: the two Whitney brothers, so disparate in their personalities; the inventors and engineers who devised the systems; the greedy ward bosses; the common laborers who worked on the construction; the ordinary people affected by the weather, the bad transportation, the social mores, the economic turns. There’s bid finagling, gas leaks and one explosion, protests from those who preferred an elevated system, and other drama.

I’ve been reading advanced reading copies for some time now, and know you should ignore the typos, but this volume has the most I’ve ever seen in an ARC, especially proper nouns without capital letters and missing spaces between words. I’ve no doubt they will be cleared up before publication, but I hope the mistakes are corrected along with them! On page 17, in a paragraph describing how horses are unnerved by traffic, the author oddly describes the nervous animals who “sometimes raised up their front legs.” Horses do have to “raise up their front legs” to walk! Does he perhaps mean “rearing,” in which the horse raises up the front part of its whole body? At the beginning of chapter three, the Whitney family of 1635 board a wooden sailing ship in England and arrive in Massachusetts “eight days later.” Maybe in 1935, but not in 1635! Could the voyage have taken eight weeks? There’s another howler a little further along in the book, but I neglected to bookmark it and now can’t remember what it was, but suffice it to say that I blinked and said “No, no.”

This criticism may lead you to believe that I hated this book, but I didn’t; it is filled with detail about the people and the events–there’s a harrowing description of a little boy sent out on an errand at the height of the Blizzard of 1888, for example–and despite the typos and errors it was quite enjoyable. However, small errors like these make you wonder if some of the larger facts are also inaccurate. Mr. Most is a heck of a storyteller, and at his best when he’s talking about the everyday life of the 19th century protagonists, but I’m not sure how seriously to take some of his facts.

 Finding the Way, Mercedes Lackey
This was a surprise; I thought I had read all the Valdemar short story collections and was current with them, but, fishing in my to-be-read pile, I found this one, copyright 2010, and with a Borders ::sob!:: sticker still on it. I was even more delighted to read it, as usually I have a quibble with one or two of the stories. Surprise! No Scooby-Doo homages or vignettes passing for complete stories. All are solid and absorbing. The volume starts off at a gallop with the story of Sherra the hertasi, who meets a frantic Companion searching for her new Chosen at the edge of a swamp; Sherra must guide the Companion across the swamp in circumstances that grow continually more complex. Another excellent story concerns a new Chosen who refuses to believe she is good enough to be a Herald and must be convinced of the fact; yet a third story involves an elderly Chosen who has since stopped dreaming about adventures, only to be drawn into one by the arrival of a Companion. Several of the stories take place in the Arrows of the Queen era. Two new Ree and Jem stories are included, plus a story about Herald Jors and his Companion Gervase, who have figured in other tales in the short story collections. This is a great collection if you love Lackey's Valdemar universe.

 Look to the Hills: The Diary of Lozette Moreau, A French Slave Girl, 1763, Patricia C. McKissack
This is the first in the newest batch of "Dear America" books I dug up at McKay's used books in Knoxville, Tennessee. It is told by Lozette Moreau, who is the "personal servant" (read "slave") of Marie-Louise Boyer, daughter of a French aristocrat. When the marquis, the father of "Ree" as Zette calls her, dies, older brother Pierre brings the estate to insolvency, and Zette is about to be sold into what is probably certain death in the West Indies while Ree is to be married off to an elderly nobleman. Ree forestalls this by accepting help from a male friend, fleeing to the colony of New York to search for her younger brother Jacques, a prisoner in the French and Indian War. It is there that Zette, who has always taken her slavery for granted, learns the importance of freedom, not only for herself, but even for Ree.

This is one of the better "Dear America" novels. Zette and Ree (both who have mastered fencing) are level-headed young women who manage their new freedoms well. The French and Indian War is a brief interlude in American history class and it's not only nice to see it addressed, but addressed from "the other side," so to speak, as the French were the enemies in this conflict. McKissack isn't afraid to address hard questions, either: once in the United States, are Ree and Zette still mistress and slave? Or have they become real friends, something that is a change from the way they were raised?

 The 1964-1965 New York World's Fair, Bill Cotter and Bill Young
The memories dim a bit more every year, but I was there, and there was no way I'd pass up this Images of America volume of color photos from the Fair. From the Disney-designed pavilions and the other big business exhibits, the regional venues, the boulevards, the concessions, and the 1960s fashions, this is one big nostalgic journey for anyone who attended, and a window to the future we dreamed about in 1964 for those who didn't. Thanks to Bill and Bill and Arcadia Publishing for the memories!

 To End All Wars, Adam Hochschild
As the 100th anniversary of World War I approaches, I'm reading various books based on the subject, and am always interested in a different point of view (the only point of view I'm avoiding, actually, is a straight narrative of battles, ground gained, and other facts of a statistical nature; I want narratives about people and lifestyles on the battlefield and home front). This volume concerns those who were opposed to the wars, specifically those belonging to the growing socialist movements in Europe, but also from the POV of the peacemakers and conscientious objectors. I understand from some reviews that the author is a socialist and that his narrative cannot be trusted, but I found the focus of this volume fascinating. Except for Vera Brittain's Testament of Youth, most of the first World War histories I have read either do not take a side for or against, or are "for" the war while making occasional comments about the carnage and its uselessness. I find it especially pertinent because for many years now I have been reading American children's series fiction cataloged on sites like gutenberg.org and munseys.com, where, in nearly all the books written from 1917-1919, the boys and/or girls in the stories are wholeheartedly for fighting "the Boche" and doing positive things to help the allies, and the books are so "gung-ho" it is a revelation to read this volume and know that so many people were actually against participating in the fighting (the author even mentions children's stories like this in his introduction).

There are some fascinating characters within: John French, the cavalry general who still believed almost until the war was ended that one good cavalry charge would still make a difference in a war of trenches and massive artillery, brother of Charlotte Despard, who became a socialist and one of the war's most vocal protesters. There were the "saber-rattlers" like Douglas Haig and Rudyard Kipling (the latter who so instilled patriotism in his children that his half-blind son begged to be sent into combat and his father found a way to send him). There were the famous suffragist Pankhurst women, mother Emmeline and daughters Christabel and Sylvia, who first opposed the war, but who were then estranged once Emmeline and Christabel joined the war effort. There was the Scots socialist James Hardie, who later became Sylvia Pankhurst's only love. Hochschild follows these personalities and others through each year of the war, interspersed with vivid battlefield horrors and the chronicles of antiwar movements in every country in Europe including Germany.

I found this book a great read.

 Mr. Monk is a Mess, Lee Goldberg
In this next-to-last volume of Lee Goldberg's tie-in novels with the Monk series, Natalie and her former boss are on the way home to San Francisco, ostensibly to pack up their homes to move to Summit, New Jersey, where they've been offered positions on the police force. Monk is unsure he wants to leave, even though he has formed a bond with Ellen Morse, a Summit storekeeper who is nearly as OCD as he is. But when Natalie arrives home, she finds a dead woman in her bathroom; the investigating police then find marked money stuffed under her mattress. The FBI suspects she's guilty of the murder and involved in the scam the money came from. What's an almost newly-minted private investigator to do, especially when another mystery pops up: Ambrose Monk's new love-of-his-life Yuki has vanished and Monk doesn't want to find her.

This mystery has more knots in it than a kid's aged shoelace.Just when you think you have your finger on what's going on, another tangle appears. I like that in a mystery. Also, Goldberg is slowly wrapping up the threads of the story he has created following Adrian Monk and Natalie Teeger after the end of the television series. (Don't worry, Monk fans: after Goldberg's final book another writer is taking over chronicling further adventures.)

 Louisa May Alcott, Susan Cheever
If you take a peek at my bookshelves, you'll see my biographical hobbyhorses: I have multiple biographies of Walt Disney, Theodore Roosevelt (and other Roosevelt family books)—and Louisa May Alcott, including a biography written about her in the 19th century by a family friend. Naturally, I picked up this book!

Sadly, I was disappointed. Cheever spends a lot of time trying to get into Bronson Alcott's head (sadly, no matter which biography of Louisa I read, I end up wanting to smack Bronson upside the head; he had educational ideas before their time, but as a husband and father I find him rather lacking), avoids even mentioning that Bronson once told wife Abba ("Marmee" of Little Women) that he didn't want to have sexual relations with her any longer, and tosses great chunks of Civil War events at us during that decade in Louisa's life (one must have some reference to the event, but four pages chronicling a specific battle seems unnecessary). Not only that, but in-your-face errors pop up in the book, the most egregious being that Elizabeth Alcott is several times mentioned as being the Alcotts' youngest daughter, when it was actually May (the original of "Amy" in Little Women). Cheever also digresses occasionally by trying to define the personality of a writer, which belongs in an introduction or in an afterward, not in the body of the text.

I'm still waffling about whether to keep this or not. There are several photos included that I haven't seen before. But the text is less than inspiring.

 Blind Justice, Anne Perry
Oliver Rathbone, now a judge, is presiding over a rather ticklish case in court: a well-respected minister has been accused of gathering charitable contributions from his flock with such strong methods that some of them, including the father of a young woman who works at Hester Monk's clinic, have been driven to bankruptcy. (The case, in fact, was initially instigated by Hester, and corroborated by her clinic bookkeeper.) The case against the minister looks bad until one of his friends testifies, making all the witnesses—and Hester—look witless and childish. Rathbone, horrified, secretly uses one of the unsavory photographs left to him by his late father-in-law against the witness—and is even more horrified when the minister kills his wife and children, and then himself.

There's a rather clever crime involved here, but it's buried in pages and pages of Rathbone's wrestling with himself: should he use the photograph or not, how should he use it, and when it's found out, what will happen to him for using it. Hester and Monk take rather a back seat in the story until the last third, and Perry, in this entry, has a maddening habit of telling us things that happened rather than showing us (for instance, in one sequence, Scuff, the young slum child the Monks have unofficially adopted, talks to some servants hoping to find some evidence, and instead of showing Scuff doing so, as Perry has done previously so successfully with Gracie Phipps in the Pitt mysteries, we are only told the result of it later; this makes the story very static). The only thing that makes the soul-searching bearable is that Rathbone's officious wife, who was in denial and deserted Oliver when her "sainted" father was revealed as not-so-sainted in a previous novel, finally learns the truth about him.

This is not a good book to join the Monk series with. The Oliver/Margaret story goes back some previous novels and you need to have read them to understand what is going on with Arthur Ballinger and the legacy he left Oliver. I stuck with the story because I love the characters, but it was slow going for a while.

 A Mourning Wedding, Carola Dunn
It's time for another wedding now that magazine author Daisy Dalrymple (from a once-titled family who fell on hard times after the first World War) has tied the knot with Detective Inspector Alec Fletcher of Scotland Yard and the pair is expecting their first child together: Daisy's dear friend and former housemate Lucy Fotheringay is marrying Lord Gerald Bincombe. Daisy has no sooner spent her first night at the vast country home of the Fotheringay family than Lady Eva, whom everyone in the family knows collects gossip, is murdered. While everyone is quite horrified, no one is quite surprised, given the secrets that Lady Eva knew; they are more horrified that the killer must be someone in the family. Soon Alec is involved, and then another stunning event occurs.

Thankfully, there's a family tree at the front of this book so you can tell all the characters without a scorecard, as Lucy's family is quite large, with "poor relations," officious ex-Army officers, and distant female cousins. Quite a nice classic country house murder mystery is related here, while poor Daisy has to cope with morning sickness and Lucy's waffling about even marrying at all. We also find out what psychological damage Lady Eva's gossip-collection has done to some family members and their relations with each other. I was very glad that several characters were not involved in the crime, as I'd come to like them a lot. The ending is a bit abrupt, but all the loose ends are "well tied up," as the cliche goes.

 A Boston Picture Book, Barbara Westermann
I was given this cute little children's picture book as a Christmas gift. Verse accompanies detailed little cartoon-like drawings of the city and its landmarks. Adorable, but oh, it is so very seventies! :-)

 Hollywood's Top Dogs: The Dog Hero in Film, Deborah Painter
This is a small press book which I was given for Christmas. It's an overview of—what else, dog films, starting with the silents. While most filmgoers probably know the classic dogs, like Rin-Tin-Tin and Lassie, and possibly Strongheart, plus the more modern dogs like Benji, Old Yeller, and Beethoven, they're probably not knowledgeable about the first American dog star, Jean, a border collie that worked at Biograph studios, plus a whole horde of German Shepherd canine heroes like Peter the Great (who was tragically shot by an angry man gunning for his owner), Flash, Lightning, and Flame. There are summaries of many of the films of each of the dogs, including modern films like Benji: Off the Leash, and chat about the Lassie and Rin Tin Tin television series. The author also makes a point of addressing the continuing problem of people making a breed of dog popular because it was featured in a hit movie and discovering that the resulting dog doesn't resemble the well-trained animal in the film. I found it enlightening because I'd heard of some of the more obscure dog stars, like Flame, but had never heard of Peter the Great and Lightning, and was interested in the plots to the silent films, but this is a rather mediocre book at best. Persons looking for a solid book of film scholarship will be disappointed.