History for Adults and for Children

The past two weeks I finished Mayflower (along with two Sports Illustrated issues). The history of the Mayflower colonists was fascinating but also disturbing.  Those folks created some chaos by intruding upon the native inhabitants, but it was really the fact that they successfully planted a colony in Massachusetts that did the most damage to the indigenous way of life.  Having proved it could be done, the Plymouth colony showed the way for many, many more English people to migrate to New England and eventually the whole continent.  It was inevitable that they would clash with the Indians who gradually came to realize that the English were not going away, and that they were not going to be satisfied with a few acres of land. Nor were they willing to peacefully coexist with the people who had been there for thousands of years.

The war that resulted from the clash of cultures--King Phillip's War, as it was later termed--was more devastating to Americans, both native and English-born, than was the Civil War in the next century. Philbrick describes in great detail the battles and the combatants' futile efforts to make peace.  Brutality was common on both sides of the conflict. There was nothing superior about the supposedly "civilized" people from England, except in numbers and material support, which is what ultimately decided the war in their favor.

Mayflower was a sobering look at the more complex picture of our English beginnings.  At the end of the book, Philbrick takes some time to explain how we ended up with the more familiar, sentimental, patriotic version of the story--the one purged of King Phillip's War.  (The revision had mostly to do with time passing and Lincoln's desire to find a war-time narrative that people could rally around).  Mayflower was a very well-written, compelling book, though somewhat depressing, especially when considering what happened to the Indians.  I recommend it highly.

Following that book, I decided to turn to a children's book that many people my mother's age read when they were little, The Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  It was a delightful, supposedly true account of a year in the life of a young family on the edge of the wilderness.  There was no plot beyond that and precious little went wrong for the Ingalls, so there was no suspense, only wonder at the many ingenious ways people came up with for getting by with very little.  And it was a detailed picture of pioneer life in the 1870s.  Though it has a nostalgic tone (it was written by Ingalls-Wilder 60 years after the events took place), the book actually gives a lot of information about how things were done back then and what life was like.  Wilder makes it all seem very nice, though what really made her childhood wonderful, I think, was all the love and caring she was surrounded with every day.

I asked a few of my mother's fellow residents in the nursing home whether they remember reading this or other Little House books.  Two of them said they did and that they liked them very much.  My mother had not read them, so I encouraged her to read the one I'd just finished.  I'm hoping she will.

Ever since I took a children's literature course in college, I'm been a firm believer in adults reading children's books, especially those universally recognized as great.  This book was one of those and I'm glad I read it, even if I am old!

My next book will be the latest John Grisham legal thriller, The Litigators.  So far I'm enjoying it.

See  you next time.

Magazine Week II: Endangered Rhinos, Potatoes, Coptics and Goddesses

As it turned out, this past week was magazine week, so I did not finish the history of the Mayflower colony. But I did read a variety of interesting articles in Smithsonian. One I thought particularly poignant was the story, "Defending the Rhino," in the November 2011 issue. It was about an alarming increase in the poaching of rhinoceroses in Africa, due in part to a recent (false) rumor that rhino horn cured someone's cancer.  One of the photos showed a dead rhino covered with blood streaming from where his horn used to be.  But fortunately, new techniques using DNA are helping to put at least some of the poachers in jail.  When shipments are intercepted, the confiscated horns can be matched to killed animals, thereby connecting the poached horns to captured poachers.  But so far, it's a drop in the bucket; the amount of money the horns bring on the black market keeps the animals in grave danger and conservationists very busy.

Another very interesting article in that issue was about potatoes.  "The Eyes Have It" told the story of potatoes' origin in the Americas and how they became a staple food in Europe following their discovery by Spaniards in the 16th century.  It also told of the pests that have plagued potatoes (due in large part to the industrialization of agriculture), one of which was the potato blight of the 19th century that destroyed the Irish potato crop and caused famine.  Such pests still plague potato farms today and for the same reason--lack of variety in the mass-produced strains.

Other articles of interest in the November issue involved Coptic Christians in Egypt and how they are being targeted following the revolution there; Shanghai's building boom; and the repatriation of stolen ancient art treasures from Italy, most notably a large statue of a Roman goddess.

I enjoy these little interludes of magazine reading.  They remind me that magazines are still producing interesting and informative articles, and that the well-written essay has not given way entirely to the photograph or the video.

But it's back to books next week.  Stay tuned for my next post on Mayflower.

History and Mystery

Last week I skipped posting because the week before was a holiday week which I spent mostly reading a mystery novel, Night Work, by Laurie R. King, whose novels about Mrs. Sherlock Holmes I've enjoyed in the past. This book is one of her modern-day mysteries featuring Kate Martinelli, a lesbian police detective working in San Francisco.  It was well written (if a little too detailed from time to time), and though it involved a vigilante killer, that person's actions were not condoned and she does not get away with it at the end (unlike in the Lee Child book I read a couple of weeks ago). Ms. King is a prolific writer and I recommend her books highly, especially the Sherlock Holmes stories.

The other book I started reading over Thanksgiving and continue to read is Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War by Nathaniel Philbrick. It's a revisionist history of the Mayflower colony and its inhabitants.  It's quite good.  The writer keeps readers in suspense wondering what will happen to the Pilgrims and their hopes for a successful religious community in the wilderness.  Their encounters with native inhabitants as well as other English settlers who arrive later cause them (and us) much anxiety as they try to work through their many challenges.

I didn't recognize most of this story since only the first-Thanksgiving part (a sanitized version) was taught me in school.  Apparently, there was a great deal of work to creating and maintaining an English village in the forests of Massachusetts and ensuring not only the physical and spiritual survival of the immigrants, but emotional and political as well. Those who did survive those first few years turned out to be a tough lot, thanks in part to the help they secured from the indigenous people they met.

I must admit that so far I'm not too fond of these English interlopers.  They seem quite arrogant and not entirely honest or trustworthy.  But the Pilgrims seem decent next to the less disciplined or scrupulous English that follow--my ancestors, that is. Nonetheless, I'm learning a great deal about early American history and the complex founding of our English colonies.

I will finish this book this week, I hope.  But in any event, I'll write about it again in next week's post.

A Great Horse and a Great Book

Well, I finished Seabiscuit this week and I was wowed! What a story that is, and what a horse! Ms. Hillenbrand did a great job of bringing it all to life: the era, the horse and the people who cared for him.

For me, the book was like a great novel.  I got deeply involved in the lives of all these people and their beloved horse to the point where I got quite emotional at the end when their deaths were described.

Seabiscuit was apparently a horse like no other.  Not only did he have lightning speed and tremendous heart, he was also calm, friendly, and tolerant of all the excitement that swirled around him throughout his life.  All the people who worked with him fell in love with him, especially his owners, his jockeys, and his trainers.

The public was especially enamored of Seabiscuit.  His humble beginnings and eventual triumph was just what the country needed during the dark years of the depression.  His was a rags-to-riches story that people could connect with.  Though Seabiscuit was descended from royalty (his grandfather was Man O'War), he was early on thought to be a mediocre horse, short-legged with a funny gait who showed no promise of racing greatness.  It took a visionary (but initially unpromising) trio of owner, trainer and jockey to bring Seabiscuit to his full potential.

The story Hillenbrand tells is thrilling, filled with treachery and love, amazing races and horrifying injuries.  You'd think it would be tailor-made for Hollywood.  And indeed, there was more than one movie made about the horse's story.  The latest, Seabiscuit, starring Tobey Maguire, Chris Cooper and Jeff Bridges, probably did the best job of the three.  But there was something missing.

I saw the movie again after I finished the book and was disappointed to see that the filmmakers completely missed the point of Hillenbrand's book: the horse. Oh, sure, they had the horse there and told his story, but the emphasis was upon the three people involved rather than the horse.  While their story is interesting, it wouldn't be without the horse. He was the reason for their being there and doing what they did and caring so much about the outcome, but Seabiscuit kind of gets shoved aside.  The horse in the movie version of Seabiscuit just doesn't seem all that special.

I guess there just wasn't enough room in the movie to bring out the greatness of the horse.  It's a shame, really, because people who saw the movie without reading the book might believe they don't need to read the book.  But they do, because in the book is the whole story, the great story of a great horse.

And, I hasten to add, a great writer. I am ready now to read anything by Laura Hillenbrand.  The story of the Olympic athlete in World War II (Unbroken) is one I bought for John.  He declared it a great book, so I may get around to reading that one in the future.

What to read next?  I haven't decided yet, but I think it will be another book of non-fiction.

I'll let you know what I choose in my next post.

History and a Famous Horse

This week I continued my new campaign of reading my magazines the first week of each month.  I finished American Heritage, and then Smithsonian, and finally Colonial Williamsburg magazine.  As you can see, most of my magazines are history-centric.  I learned a number of things, but I can't remember them too vividly at the moment, so I'll just say that they proved to be interesting reading and reminded me that there is a great deal of good writing being published out there.

Following my magazine interlude, I started reading Seabiscuit, by Laura Hillenbrand.  It is a very interesting and well written story of the fabled horse who achieved fame in the 1930s. It's filled with details about horse racing, horses, jockeys, and the era.  I've already learned quite a bit and I've barely begun the book!

One of the things I've learned so far is that Seabiscuit was the son of a horse called Hardtack, which is what people call the rock-like biscuits given to soldiers and sailors to carry with them on long campaigns or voyages.  Seabiscuit, incidentally, is another name for such difficult-to-eat fare. Hardtack was an unruly horse, apparently. (Seabiscuit was just the opposite, however.)

Oddly, one of the magazine stories I read this week told of how much Civil War soldiers hated hardtack, to the point that a song was penned, "Hardtack, Come Again No More," sung to the tune of Stephen Foster's "Hard Times, Come Again No More," a popular song of the times.  Interestingly enough, that song, sung by James Taylor, is on the album Appalachian Journey (featuring Yo Yo Ma) that I've lately been using for my morning dance exercise. 

From Seabiscuit I've also learned about the transition from horse transportation to automobile transportation, and how that impacted horse racing.  Hillenbrand also details the grueling life of the jockey, especially those who worked the lesser known races for smaller purses.  Jockeys put up with a great deal of abuse, it seems, from the trainers and the horses as well as the other jockeys during the race.

So, I'm looking forward to finishing this one.  I've seen the movie, and I'm trying to remember how close it was to the book.  I may have to see it again once I finish Seabiscuit.

Tune in next week for more about the famous horse!

Worth Dying For Worth Reading?

This week I read Lee Child's Worth Dying For, and though I enjoyed it while I was reading it, disturbing questions about it changed my ultimate judgement.  It turned out to be a story in the revenge genre.  People who are evil get their just deserts, delivered at the hands of the avenging angel from out of town, Jack Reacher.  And although I disapprove of vengeance and vigilantism, in fiction I can tolerate it to some extent because I know it's not real.  It also has to be well done.

It seems to me that a revenge story has to draw clear lines between good and evil.  The evil people need to be really evil so the avenger's actions make sense and are fully justified.  Otherwise the reader might start to wonder if a less lethal alternative might have worked just as well to stop the evildoer and bring him to justice in our courts.

Worth Dying For did not meet these criteria, in my opinion.  When I finished the book and all the bad people were dead, for some strange reason the writer chose not to show us the "unretouched photo" of their evil deeds, preferring to hint at the horror instead of describing it, demurring that the details were too ghastly to reveal.  This was a major mistake, I think, since it was necessary for us to "see" the horror so that when Reacher murders all the perpetrators, we would feel he was justified. 

Not only does he murder a number of baddies (with the help of a few of their victims), he also does it in a very cold, efficient, skillful way that does not show his outrage and anger at their inhuman actions over the course of twenty years. (I'm not revealing their deeds now because someone might want to read this book.) 

Added to that was the general implausibility of his campaign.  He starts out meddling in something he doesn't understand, then ends up getting caught by the bad guys and hurt a few times, mostly because of bad luck.  But then his luck turns and his foes are all themselves caught and fairly easily dispatched.  It's a bit anti-climactic by this time, really, because we can see they're no match for our hero.

At that point the book is not over, though, and what follows is as unbelievable as it is morally ambiguous.  Our hero, after littering the countryside with bodies (without the county sheriff finding out), then leaves his accomplices, the inhabitants of the little town, to clean up the mess, which they do without compunction or worrying about cops carting them off to jail. Apparently, we're to believe they get away with it.  But I thought, "Nah, I'm not buying that." 

That's not the way I want to feel at the end of a thriller/murder mystery novel; I want to feel that justice has triumphed and evildoers will answer to the law.  But lately I've noticed a trend in mysteries toward ambiguous endings and the lack of moral neatness. Perhaps it's what writers think readers want these days--hit-man heroes, high body counts and no reason to believe law enforcement will intervene or care.

I'm not one of those readers, obviously, so I can't recommend this book. And I won't be reading any more of Lee Child's novels, either.

After Worth Dying For, I was going to move to a non-fiction book, but I'd promised myself that I would devote the first week of every month to reading my magazines, which have been piling up for years unread.  So this week I've been reading American Heritage and Smithsonian. The American Heritage had several articles of interest; one of them involved the pre-Civil War panoramic daguerreotype of Cincinnati that has been restored and enhanced and is currently on display at the Cincinnati library. John and I went to see it there recently so the article was very timely for us.  There were other interesting articles that I won't describe here but if you look at the link you can see what they were.

Since last week was a short week, I'm going to devote a few more days to magazines before turning back to non-fiction books, this time Seabiscuit.

Join me next week!

A Life Wild and Perilous: Jack Reacher's?

Unfortunately, I didn't stick with A Life Wild and Perilous for very long. The title was great, hinting at adventure, but alas, the book itself was tedious and somewhat confusing. I found myself looking ahead for the "good" parts, scanning large sections and re-reading confusing parts until I finally gave up. I'll have to read a different book on this subject, I guess, because I couldn't finish this one.

To be fair, there was a lot of interesting information about the early years of our republic, when mountain men were out trapping animals for their fur while exploring western territories that eventually became part of the United States. But the information was presented in a straight-forward way--"just the facts, ma'am"--that left me longing for a story about these men. I guess I've gotten used to the highly narrative historical accounts that many writers have provided in recent years. 

Another aspect of A Life Wild and Perilous that I found frustrating was the way it was organized--in chronological order, apparently.  While that would seem to be a good choice for a historical account, it ended up being confusing because at the same time the book seemed to want to emphasize individual mountain men. (The title, after all, indicates that people's lives will be examined.)

Because some of the men were important early in the era (1800-1820), some important in the latter years, and others important throughout, the author has to keep circling back to explorers such as Jedediah Smith (who lasted nearly the whole time) as the book progresses through time.  I wanted to focus on the individuals, but it was almost impossible because Utley kept jumping back and forth between well known explorers like Smith and a handful of other lesser lights whose lives I couldn't really imagine because they were discussed for such a brief period of time. I think the book would have benefited greatly from telling one mountain man's story at a time, or focusing on the explorations and de-emphasizing the mountain men.

I did learn some things from the book, though.  The repeated descriptions of the various people's encounters with indigenous folks (some friendly, some not) brought home the fact that American Indians west of the Mississippi did not submit quietly to their fate. I knew there were some uprisings, but I didn't realize there were so many, many attempts on the part of all tribes (even those who cooperated at first with the Europeans) to make the new interlopers' lives miserable, either by stealing from them, cheating them, lying to them, harassing them, burning their encampments, kidnapping, scalping, or murdering them.  This went on, in fact, until the numbers of European invaders were too great to successfully resist. 

Another thing I learned from this book (related to the above), is that finding South Pass in Wyoming made a very big difference in settling the west.  Being able to cross the Rockies with wagons was a big deal; South Pass made it possible.  After that, there was no stopping settlers longing to go west.  (Of course, there was still the Sierra, but that's another story.)  Mountain men helped a great deal in finding pathways for future pioneers to follow, much to the chagrin of the native inhabitants.

A third thing I learned is that Jedediah Smith wasn't exactly the way he was portrayed to be in the movie starring Robert Redford. He wasn't a loner roaming the mountains simply because they were there; though exploring was his first love, he made his living working for different fur companies as a trapper. He was economically invested in exploring the wilderness, as were the rest of the mountain men. It makes sense that they would be, of course, but it kind of tarnishes their reputation as romantic old west heroes, I think.

Robert Utley is a learned man and a well-known historian, and his book contained interesting material. I just wish he would have presented it in a more entertaining way.  I recommend this book to those of you who want to learn about mountain men and are not put off by a straightforward chronicle.

After abandoning A Life Wild and Perilous, I picked up a mystery I've had on the shelf for a while, Worth Dying For. It's by Lee Child, who is apparently quite popular in the thriller genre. There isn't a great deal of mystery to it (except for the whereabouts of a long-ago missing child), but it's a good example of the hard-boiled detective type of novel--lots of demonstrations of amazing strength and keen intelligence, lots of violence and gripping evil-vs-good action.

Child's continuing character, Jack Reacher, is on the way to somewhere else when he gets involved with some people in a town held captive by a family of bullies. He can put things right, of course, and sets about doing so, all the while uncovering a bigger secret.  The plot is intricate and the action is non-stop, so what's not to like?  I may have to read some more by this author. It's always fun to discover a new mystery writer.

After this I plan to read Seabiscuit. I've had it on my shelf for a while, so I thought it was about time.  But I might also read Mammoth next; after visiting Big Bone Lick State Park, I got interested in learning more about the ice age creatures. I'll see what I feel like when the time comes.

Until then . . .

Two Weeks, Three Books

Well, I've been guilty of neglecting my reading blog for a week, but as always, I continue to read.  I finished the memoir It Never Rains in Tiger Stadium and turned to a novel by T. C. Boyle, East is East, followed by a non-fiction book I've been meaning to read for a long time, A Life Wild and Perilous, by Robert Utley, which chronicles the lives of several American mountain men in the nineteenth century. 

The memoir by John Ed Bradley was very interesting, but somewhat sad, in that it seems he is only just beginning to come to terms with his loss.  Apparently, no matter how exciting his life as a world-traveled free-lance journalist has proven to be, he still longs for his days playing football.  He doesn't completely explain why he decided to stop playing; he could have signed on with an NFL team, it seems, but declined in order to pursue his dream of becoming a writer.  He thought that as a professional football player he would not be credible as a novelist.  Ironically, his novels have not done well, but he enjoys continued success as a sports writer, a career enhanced by his first-hand sports experience.  After reading the book, I looked on line for more information about Bradley, but didn't find much, except for his articles.  Here's one of them, about Beryl Shipley, a basketball coach who died earlier this year: SI. I enjoyed reading this book and I would recommend it to anyone interested in sports and athletes.

The novel I turned to this week was quite a departure from the Bradley memoir.  Boyle is a wonderful writer, one of my favorites, but I can't read more than one of his books at a time because they are so full. East is East was no exception; it's a wacky, satirical adventure about people living on an island off the coast of Georgia. The plot involves a Japanese teenager who jumps his cargo ship, and the denizens of an artist colony, one of whom tries to help him.  Also involved are people who try to catch the Japanese kid: an INS agent, a Vietnam veteran, a sheriff and townspeople.  All are quirky, maddening yet somehow sympathetic.  There's a serious message at the bottom (as with all good satire) and a less than happy ending, but all in all it was great fun, and I recommend it highly.  When I was finished,  it occurred to me that this book achieves what the book I read earlier, Six Suspects, attempts but fails to deliver.

T.C. Boyle has written many novels and other fiction. (One of them is the book about Kellogg, The Road to Wellville, which was made into a movie.)  He has wonderful characters and entertaining plots, but what sets him apart from many writers is his language.  He enjoys words and isn't afraid to use them, but he never comes across as wordy. I have several other books by Boyle that I got at Borders' closeouts, so I'll get back to him in the future.

The book I started yesterday is one I started years ago, shortly after buying it.  It was first published in 1997 and looks to be a very interesting book.  I know John, my husband, has read it and enjoyed it.  So I'll get back to you with my thoughts about  A Life Wild and Perilous in my next post.

See you then!

Fiction and Life

This week I finished the book, A Judgement in Stone, and I now know the answer to the question "Why?" Long before anyone oppressed her with their love of reading, Eunice was a murderer of people who got in her way.  She kills her father because he's interfering with her life and she kills her employers for the same reason. When her desire to be left in peace (and ignorance) is frustrated, she kills those who thwart her.  But it really is an accident of sorts.  Her friend, the lunatic Joan, sets the conditions under which they both step over the line.  Joan ends up in a coma, and Eunice gets away with murder for a couple of weeks, until the tape recording of the murder comes to light and the game is up.

I found this book to be fascinating and quite realistic.  As a sometime reader of true crime, I find that real criminals are pretty stupid, committing crimes in broad daylight in front of witnesses, or telling their friends what they did, or leaving a trail to their door so obvious that a child could follow it.  Their motives are often mixed up and their decision to kill spontaneous,not--as in detective fiction--thoroughly thought out and carefully planned.

Because of its realism, this novel was quite chilling.  A person who seems alright (if a bit odd) may not be the least bit alright but actually quite dangerous.  People who have such dangerous persons in their homes may not know it until it is too late.  How are we to guard against such eventualities? The fact that we really can't know who is going to suddenly turn irrational and lethal is what is so frightening.

Interesting that even though I knew what was going to happen, I was still riveted to the page until I arrived at that pre-determined end.  The narrator of the book sprinkles a number of "what-ifs" throughout the story, speculating on how tragedy could have been avoided if a different decision had been made.  When I think about that now, I realize the author was playing with us a bit, since she is the one who invented all the decisions and created the tragedy by taking us down the roads that she did.  It's almost as if she is laying out her own decision making process as she plotted the novel and asking us to admire it.  Clever!

Rendell is really quite a good novelist; I recommend her highly and this book in particular.

The book I am currently reading, It Never Rains in Tiger Stadium, returns me to non-fiction.  It's a memoir by John Ed Bradley, who played center for Louisiana State University in the late 1970s.  Mr. Bradley is also a novelist, and though I have not read any of his other works, I am enjoying his account of being a star football player in both high school and college, and of his life after football, focusing especially on what it was like to stop playing football.

The book takes me back to the John Grisham novel I read recently, Bleachers, which explores the same topic: life after football.  Especially now that we're in the midst of football season, both books help to deepen my insight into the players who entertain us with their skill and talent and heart.

In my next post, I'll let you know what I learn.

More Mysteries

The second in the three-book series about Lisbeth Salander, The Girl Who Played With Fire, was very good, and also different from the first, The Girl With the Dragon Tatoo. In this second installment, the main character finds herself attacked by violent criminals whom she successfully fights right up to the end, when she is rescued by her friend Mikael Blomqvist.  Along the way, there are a number of exciting twists and surprising revelations.

But what's also interesting about this second story is that we learn a little bit more about the character, and how she came to be where she is and who she is.  The character and her story are very compelling, and that's a large part of why we keep reading, I think, and why this writer is so popular.

I'm also learning quite a bit about Swedish society and culture from these novels. Since I knew very little before, that's a big plus.  I'm even thinking of checking out the Swedish language.

The only criticism I would have of the books is that the narrator tends to give mini-lectures on what he apparently believes are pertinent topics that sometimes go on just a bit too long and tempt me to skip to the action.

After finishing that book, I went on to a book by another of my favorite mystery writers, Ruth Rendell.  This novel, A Judgement in Stone, published in 1977, appears to be a sort of mystery-in-reverse.  Right up front we are told who dun it and why, and then the rest of the novel explains how it happened by presenting a chronicle of events that led up to that fateful day.  It's the kind of anwers people want following a shocking multiple murder and journalists try to provide with newspaper reports and TV movies that analyze how such a tragedy could have been prevented.

Though Rendell's novel is not true crime, it has the ring of truth to it, and is even better than true crime because she can give us the thoughts of the people involved, especially the dead ones.  Under real circumstances we don't get to ask the victims the question: "Why didn't you realize this person was going to murder you?"  But in fiction,we can ask and the author will give us the answer. 

I'm about a third of the way through this novel, and so far it's very good.  The simple answer to why the culprit killed an entire family is given at the start (because she couldn't read), but it doesn't make much sense. The mystery to solve, then, is how could such a reason be a motive for murder?  I'm curious and hoping the author will surprise me with her answer.

I'll keep you posted on how it turns out.