Geoff Williams's Washed Away is an in-depth look at the massive floods that decimated the U.S., in particular the middle part of the country, in early 1913. Williams works through the days chronologically, and often the hours within each day. This style took a little getting used to; it had the advantage of being incredibly orderly and organized, but the disadvantage was that I found it easy to lose track of the various characters - this one in Dayton, that one in Indianapolis, another in Pennsylvania, and so on - since they cropped up sporadically, especially in the early chapters.
On the whole, this is a fascinating look at an event that once dominated the national conscience, but has long since receded from even the most detailed history books. (See The Devil Is Here in These Hills or Ashes Under Water for other examples of famous-now-forgotten events.) I have to say, though, that I felt the title oversold the story: at least as Williams has written it, the "changed it forever" piece is not obvious. He does spend a couple of pages at the end on water engineering, but I actually would have liked to learn more about those changes than some of the hour-by-hour accounts. (And now I'm being nit-picky, but Williams did not spend nearly enough time delving into the flooding outside of the Midwest, such as along the Mississippi, as the "most widespread natural disaster" - or the pages of photos of flooded Memphis - would imply.)
Ultimately, I was interested to learn about this flood, particularly having read about the Johnstown flood somewhat recently. Williams does highlight those unlucky, lucky few who are known to have survived both, which can hardly be matched for bad luck.
Best for history buffs. Three stars.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Thursday, January 19, 2017
East of the Sun
Viva Holloway lived in India as a girl, before she was orphaned by a terrible car accident - or so she tells anyone who dares to ask about her circumstances. Now 28 and independent, she longs to return to the land of her youth, taking on the job of chaperoning three young people on the Kaisar-I-Hind to cover her passage.
Nineteen-year-old Rose is bound for India and a new husband, leaving behind her home and her parents, who are too ill to travel. Her best friend, Tor, is weighing anchor with her, hoping that she too might next see England as a married woman. And 16-year-old Guy has just been expelled from his English boarding school and most return to his unhappy parents, whom he hasn't seen in several years. Viva's job is to shepherd them through the crossing; her path continues to cross theirs in India in circumstances that are perhaps best described as bizarre.
I am of two minds about Julia Gregson's East of the Sun. On the one hand, it's beautifully written and I loved the setting (pre-independence India, which, of course, means present day India and Pakistan). I've neither read anything set there, nor traveled there myself, and the book's rich imagery is a wonderful way to dive into the country. On the other hand, I hated most of the characters (and frankly, a good bit of the plot) with an energy I don't typically feel when reading. More than that, I was bothered by the fact that I couldn't figure out if Gregson wanted me to dislike her characters. Unlike The Hurricane Sisters, for example, in which I felt that I understood why the author made her characters so irritating, here, I never could figure out if the irritation I felt was intentional or if it was just me.
So: to continue reading about the fascinating time and place? Or to heck with the whole lot of them?
I did finish, but it's all credit to the place and not the people.
Nineteen-year-old Rose is bound for India and a new husband, leaving behind her home and her parents, who are too ill to travel. Her best friend, Tor, is weighing anchor with her, hoping that she too might next see England as a married woman. And 16-year-old Guy has just been expelled from his English boarding school and most return to his unhappy parents, whom he hasn't seen in several years. Viva's job is to shepherd them through the crossing; her path continues to cross theirs in India in circumstances that are perhaps best described as bizarre.
I am of two minds about Julia Gregson's East of the Sun. On the one hand, it's beautifully written and I loved the setting (pre-independence India, which, of course, means present day India and Pakistan). I've neither read anything set there, nor traveled there myself, and the book's rich imagery is a wonderful way to dive into the country. On the other hand, I hated most of the characters (and frankly, a good bit of the plot) with an energy I don't typically feel when reading. More than that, I was bothered by the fact that I couldn't figure out if Gregson wanted me to dislike her characters. Unlike The Hurricane Sisters, for example, in which I felt that I understood why the author made her characters so irritating, here, I never could figure out if the irritation I felt was intentional or if it was just me.
So: to continue reading about the fascinating time and place? Or to heck with the whole lot of them?
I did finish, but it's all credit to the place and not the people.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day
I absolutely adored everything about this little gem of a book. Originally published in 1938, I'd never heard of it, and probably still wouldn't have, were it not displayed on a "librarian's choice" shelf in my local library recently.
In a nutshell, Miss Pettigrew is an aging, ineffectual governess down to her last chance when she rings the bell of the lithe nightclub singer Delysia LaFosse, she of the fine figure and decidedly loose morals (at least by Miss Pettigrew's standards). Without asking what her business is, Miss LaFosse puts Miss Pettigrew to work, but in the most unconventional way. A revolving cast of characters works its way in and out of Miss LaFosse's day - and Miss Pettigrew's life, causing the latter to wonder if she's really lived at all.
Winifred Watson's work is unlike any book I've read before, and I struggle to compare it to anything else. The illustrations are the icing on the cake. Love, love, love.
In a nutshell, Miss Pettigrew is an aging, ineffectual governess down to her last chance when she rings the bell of the lithe nightclub singer Delysia LaFosse, she of the fine figure and decidedly loose morals (at least by Miss Pettigrew's standards). Without asking what her business is, Miss LaFosse puts Miss Pettigrew to work, but in the most unconventional way. A revolving cast of characters works its way in and out of Miss LaFosse's day - and Miss Pettigrew's life, causing the latter to wonder if she's really lived at all.
Winifred Watson's work is unlike any book I've read before, and I struggle to compare it to anything else. The illustrations are the icing on the cake. Love, love, love.
Friday, January 6, 2017
A Good Place to Hide: How One French Community Saved Thousands of Lives During World War II
What better way to ring in the New Year than with a great book? A Good Place to Hide is just that, for not only is the book interesting, well-researched and written, and thoughtfully organized, but it's also an uplifting story.
Peter Grose neatly narrates the history of how the tiny village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon (and other surrounding communities of even smaller size) saved thousands of Jews and other "fugitives" from the Vichy regime. A Good Place to Hide is every bit as exciting as The Nightingale or The Paris Architect, but with the added benefit of being a true story. Grose takes care to examine the many facetsiss border, to influential religious leaders who encouraged both non-violence and peaceful resistance from the earliest days of the war. The fact that the people of the Plateau were largely Huguenots who had, themselves, suffered centuries of religious persecution certainly didn't hurt.
As good as the history itself is, I was especially glad for the appendix of what happened to each of the individuals in the book in the years after the war. Sadly, the character who most impressed me, 17-year-old passeur Pierre Piton, who led more than 20 smuggling runs to the Swiss border helping scores of Jews escape France, has essentially disappeared. None of the people Grose interviewed has any idea what Piton may have done after the war, whether he is alive, and if so, where.
Fans of World War II history will be particularly drawn to this book, but above all, this is an uplifting story of committed individuals working for right, rather than simply accepting wrong.
Peter Grose neatly narrates the history of how the tiny village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon (and other surrounding communities of even smaller size) saved thousands of Jews and other "fugitives" from the Vichy regime. A Good Place to Hide is every bit as exciting as The Nightingale or The Paris Architect, but with the added benefit of being a true story. Grose takes care to examine the many facetsiss border, to influential religious leaders who encouraged both non-violence and peaceful resistance from the earliest days of the war. The fact that the people of the Plateau were largely Huguenots who had, themselves, suffered centuries of religious persecution certainly didn't hurt.
As good as the history itself is, I was especially glad for the appendix of what happened to each of the individuals in the book in the years after the war. Sadly, the character who most impressed me, 17-year-old passeur Pierre Piton, who led more than 20 smuggling runs to the Swiss border helping scores of Jews escape France, has essentially disappeared. None of the people Grose interviewed has any idea what Piton may have done after the war, whether he is alive, and if so, where.
Fans of World War II history will be particularly drawn to this book, but above all, this is an uplifting story of committed individuals working for right, rather than simply accepting wrong.
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