J.L. Witterick's My Mother's Secret is an absolute gem of a book. Based on a true story, it tells how the illiterate and poor Franciszka, along with her daughter Helena, saved the lives of two entire Jewish families and a defecting German soldier by hiding them in the most unlikely places in their tiny home and pigsty. None knows of the others' presence. Then, for her pièce de résistance, Franciszka befriends the German commander, throwing (modest) dinner parties for him literally right on top of the hidden Jews.
Among the results, is much needed food supplies and a greater distance from their fellow villagers. As daughter Helena describes, with the appearance of the German commander, any they would have wished to befriend no longer wanted to associate, while any of those who might have wished to be friends were not the type mother and daughter sought.
Witterick tells this story in four parts, using four different perspectives, beginning with Helena. At fewer than 200 pages, it's an incredibly quick read, the more so for being so engrossing. In all, this is one inspiring piece of work - and how might history have been different if there were more Franciszkas and Helenas?
Five stars.
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Sunday, June 24, 2018
I'd Like to Apologize to Every Teacher I Ever Had: My Year as a Rookie Teacher at Northeast High
As a child of the '80s, I well remember Tony Danza of Who's the Boss? fame, and can even cop to watching more than a few episodes when they were on the first time. I'm not exactly up on my pop culture, though, and couldn't have told you that a few years ago he spent a year teaching in a Philadelphia high school had my life depended on it. His memoir, I'd Like to Apologize to Every Teacher I Ever Had, is an ode to teaching as much as the re-telling of his single year in the classroom.
If Danza's teaching career can't entirely be categorized as a lark, it is the case that he undertook it as part of a reality show, though he eloquently expresses his misgivings about this aspect of the work early in the book. (I also learned that his college degree is in education, and he did intend to become a teacher before boxing and later acting derailed his plans.) In any case, it's clear that Danza's heart is in the right place, and I came away impressed not only by how hard he worked and how creative his assignments often were, but inspired by his portrayal of teaching in the very hardest circumstances. In that sense, it's clear that this gig was anything but a lark.
Years ago, back when I was myself a fresh-eyed college grad, I read Wendy Kopp's One Day, All Children about the Teach for America movement. I wasn't sold, perhaps because I even had a couple of friends who did the TFA thing. Neither the efforts nor the results were anywhere near what Danza appears to have achieved in 2009-10.
At a time when education, and too often teachers, is so regularly under attack, the profession can use whatever support it can get, whether from an actor whose heyday was three decades ago or otherwise. I'd Like to Apologize... is also a good gut check for anyone who has ever wondered if they're in the right profession, if their work is meaningful, or if it's too late to switch careers.
Four stars.
If Danza's teaching career can't entirely be categorized as a lark, it is the case that he undertook it as part of a reality show, though he eloquently expresses his misgivings about this aspect of the work early in the book. (I also learned that his college degree is in education, and he did intend to become a teacher before boxing and later acting derailed his plans.) In any case, it's clear that Danza's heart is in the right place, and I came away impressed not only by how hard he worked and how creative his assignments often were, but inspired by his portrayal of teaching in the very hardest circumstances. In that sense, it's clear that this gig was anything but a lark.
Years ago, back when I was myself a fresh-eyed college grad, I read Wendy Kopp's One Day, All Children about the Teach for America movement. I wasn't sold, perhaps because I even had a couple of friends who did the TFA thing. Neither the efforts nor the results were anywhere near what Danza appears to have achieved in 2009-10.
At a time when education, and too often teachers, is so regularly under attack, the profession can use whatever support it can get, whether from an actor whose heyday was three decades ago or otherwise. I'd Like to Apologize... is also a good gut check for anyone who has ever wondered if they're in the right profession, if their work is meaningful, or if it's too late to switch careers.
Four stars.
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
To Die But Once: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
Set against the backdrop of the evacuation of the British forces from Dunkirk and on the eve of what everyone can feel is the coming Battle of Britain, private detective Maisie Dobbs investigates the mysterious death of a young painter apprentice working on a secret government contract.
If Jacqueline Winspear isn't quite Dame Agatha, To Die But Once is nevertheless a snappy read with an enticing plot. Fifteen-year-old Joe Coombes in the young apprentice; conveniently, his family was already acquainted with Maisie and her assistant, Billy Beale. As Billy quickly points out to Maisie, though, something just isn't quite right with the family. Priding herself as much on her work as a psychologist as a detective, Maisie teases the threads apart to solve the case.
While the secret government contract - a job painting all of the buildings on RAF bases with fire retardant - provides a bit of the wartime feel, Winspear has infused it throughout the book with talk of petrol coupons, rationing, and the evacuation from Dunkirk itself. This last is its own sub-plot, apart and unrelated to Joe Coombes's fate, as though reminding readers that whatever personal tragedies one may have faced during World War II, there the war loomed overhead, overshadowing even the worst pain. (With Dunkirk, too, I was reminded keenly of Natasha Solomons's The House at Tyneford, which makes an excellent choice for anyone interested in Dunkirk-themed historical fiction, but for whom mystery isn't quite the order of the day.)
Learning how much of the story was inspired by true events was the icing on top - and a rarity in mysteries.
All told, To Die But Once is a solid, four-star read.
If Jacqueline Winspear isn't quite Dame Agatha, To Die But Once is nevertheless a snappy read with an enticing plot. Fifteen-year-old Joe Coombes in the young apprentice; conveniently, his family was already acquainted with Maisie and her assistant, Billy Beale. As Billy quickly points out to Maisie, though, something just isn't quite right with the family. Priding herself as much on her work as a psychologist as a detective, Maisie teases the threads apart to solve the case.
While the secret government contract - a job painting all of the buildings on RAF bases with fire retardant - provides a bit of the wartime feel, Winspear has infused it throughout the book with talk of petrol coupons, rationing, and the evacuation from Dunkirk itself. This last is its own sub-plot, apart and unrelated to Joe Coombes's fate, as though reminding readers that whatever personal tragedies one may have faced during World War II, there the war loomed overhead, overshadowing even the worst pain. (With Dunkirk, too, I was reminded keenly of Natasha Solomons's The House at Tyneford, which makes an excellent choice for anyone interested in Dunkirk-themed historical fiction, but for whom mystery isn't quite the order of the day.)
Learning how much of the story was inspired by true events was the icing on top - and a rarity in mysteries.
All told, To Die But Once is a solid, four-star read.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
The Doha Experiment: Arab Kingdom, Catholic College, Jewish Teacher
Gary Wasserman's The Doha Experiment is a look at the nitty-gritty realities of international education - a timely read in the run up to the NAFSA Conference. Wasserman was among the initial faculty appointments to Georgetown's Qatar campus. Perhaps reasonably, Wasserman has doubts as to how he will be received given his Jewish background. (Hint: better than the suggestion to place crosses outside each classroom to mirror the practice in Washington.)
In The Doha Experiment, Wasserman reflects on his time in Doha, as well as the initial founding and evolution of the school itself. Many of the anecdotes will elicit a familiar groan from those who have tried to navigate the developing world: the policeman who issues "slowing" tickets to every vehicle stuck in a traffic jam; the ubiquitous security that provides questionable value; the nightmare of navigating the roads.
Much of the book, though, is focused on the educational experience, and rightly, and offers plenty of food for thought for those of us who work in international education. The value of intercultural understanding and importance of travel can't be overstated, but Wasserman does pose important questions about the ability to overcome societal and family expectations and the ultimate value of a multicultural education if and when individuals return to the pre-set path.
Wasserman does not shy away from the difficult questions. To what extent are such campuses a form of American imperialism? How might such campuses further perpetuate social class dynamics? (He ruminates at length on the proper approach to dealing with "the help," which in Qatar consisted largely of terribly underpaid South Asians who had their passports confiscated as a condition of employment.) To what extent must a university tolerate government interference, or a government tolerate dissent by the college?
Although I personally found The Doha Experiment terribly interesting, I recognize this is one book that appeals to a particularly niche audience. If you're part of that audience, by all means, read away. If you're not, you may find greater interest between the pages of another book.
Four stars.
In The Doha Experiment, Wasserman reflects on his time in Doha, as well as the initial founding and evolution of the school itself. Many of the anecdotes will elicit a familiar groan from those who have tried to navigate the developing world: the policeman who issues "slowing" tickets to every vehicle stuck in a traffic jam; the ubiquitous security that provides questionable value; the nightmare of navigating the roads.
Much of the book, though, is focused on the educational experience, and rightly, and offers plenty of food for thought for those of us who work in international education. The value of intercultural understanding and importance of travel can't be overstated, but Wasserman does pose important questions about the ability to overcome societal and family expectations and the ultimate value of a multicultural education if and when individuals return to the pre-set path.
Wasserman does not shy away from the difficult questions. To what extent are such campuses a form of American imperialism? How might such campuses further perpetuate social class dynamics? (He ruminates at length on the proper approach to dealing with "the help," which in Qatar consisted largely of terribly underpaid South Asians who had their passports confiscated as a condition of employment.) To what extent must a university tolerate government interference, or a government tolerate dissent by the college?
Although I personally found The Doha Experiment terribly interesting, I recognize this is one book that appeals to a particularly niche audience. If you're part of that audience, by all means, read away. If you're not, you may find greater interest between the pages of another book.
Four stars.
Friday, June 8, 2018
Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates: The Forgotten War That Changed American History
"From the halls of Montezuma | To the shores of Tripoli | We will fight our country's battles..."
I have previously given exactly zero consideration to the meaning behind the famous lyrics of the Marine song. Encountering Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates: The Forgotten War That Changed American History in an airport bookstore recently, I was intrigued and bit. Well, sort of: I put myself on the waitlist at the library and then bided my time while a dozen people ahead of made their way through Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger's book.
Here's the story: in the early nineteenth century (and for some time before that), pirates owned the seas around the Barbary Coast - essentially North Africa. Many of the European powers paid hefty annual "tributes" to encourage the pirates - who operated openly under the flags of their countries and whose bounty became part of the national treasury - to seek alternate targets. The U.S. was young, poor, and also temperamentally opposed to following suit. Thus, U.S. ships were regularly boarded, plundered, and the sailors enslaved, frequently for years and years. Only those who converted to Islam escaped slavery, religious difference being one of the pirates' justifications for their actions. (That old history-repeating-itself bit again.)
Ultimately, after years of failed diplomacy and debate within the U.S., Thomas Jefferson resolved to make war on the pirates, and the Barbary powers that backed them. Perhaps not surprisingly for a country that had no navy and whose only previous experience with war was during the Revolution (and, some might argue, against the Native tribes), it didn't go well at first. The earliest U.S. "navy" was undermanned, outmatched, and frequently poorly led. As time passed and Jefferson's and Congress's resolve grew, better men were appointed, better strategies developed, and better ships built. The end result was a full and complete victory over the pirates (no "shores of Tripoli" lyrics otherwise, right?) such that the European powers sought to imitate the Americans for the first time.
Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates is a fantastic read. Kilmeade and Yaeger take a little known moment in American history and flesh it out, giving it color and context, and also providing the reader with a greater history of U.S. involvement and intervention in other countries. (Part of our plan was to depose one leader and replace him with his "friendly" brother, a pattern we still seem fond of some two centuries later.) History buffs rejoice, this is another great one!
Five stars.
I have previously given exactly zero consideration to the meaning behind the famous lyrics of the Marine song. Encountering Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates: The Forgotten War That Changed American History in an airport bookstore recently, I was intrigued and bit. Well, sort of: I put myself on the waitlist at the library and then bided my time while a dozen people ahead of made their way through Brian Kilmeade and Don Yaeger's book.
Here's the story: in the early nineteenth century (and for some time before that), pirates owned the seas around the Barbary Coast - essentially North Africa. Many of the European powers paid hefty annual "tributes" to encourage the pirates - who operated openly under the flags of their countries and whose bounty became part of the national treasury - to seek alternate targets. The U.S. was young, poor, and also temperamentally opposed to following suit. Thus, U.S. ships were regularly boarded, plundered, and the sailors enslaved, frequently for years and years. Only those who converted to Islam escaped slavery, religious difference being one of the pirates' justifications for their actions. (That old history-repeating-itself bit again.)
Ultimately, after years of failed diplomacy and debate within the U.S., Thomas Jefferson resolved to make war on the pirates, and the Barbary powers that backed them. Perhaps not surprisingly for a country that had no navy and whose only previous experience with war was during the Revolution (and, some might argue, against the Native tribes), it didn't go well at first. The earliest U.S. "navy" was undermanned, outmatched, and frequently poorly led. As time passed and Jefferson's and Congress's resolve grew, better men were appointed, better strategies developed, and better ships built. The end result was a full and complete victory over the pirates (no "shores of Tripoli" lyrics otherwise, right?) such that the European powers sought to imitate the Americans for the first time.
Thomas Jefferson and the Tripoli Pirates is a fantastic read. Kilmeade and Yaeger take a little known moment in American history and flesh it out, giving it color and context, and also providing the reader with a greater history of U.S. involvement and intervention in other countries. (Part of our plan was to depose one leader and replace him with his "friendly" brother, a pattern we still seem fond of some two centuries later.) History buffs rejoice, this is another great one!
Five stars.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
The Lost City of the Monkey God: A True Story
Equal parts horrifying and fascinating, I sped through The Lost City of the Monkey God: A True Story like a woman possessed.
The Lost City is Douglas Preston's account of the discovery of a "lost city" deep within the Honduran rain forest. From the earliest days of its suspected existence to the unearthing of the first artifacts, Preston was there documenting the entire process. The city, known sometimes - perhaps mythically - as the White City or the Lost City of the Monkey God - was abandoned roughly at the time of the Spanish conquest by a people who did not belong to the Mayan culture which dominated much of the region. Preston's descriptions are equal part science writing and travelogue; there's more than a hint of David Quammen here.
To give you a glimpse of the expedition itself: snakes bigger than men; mud up to the waist (in which one archaeologist believe she truly might sink and die); an insignificant tent in the face of fierce rains; transport by aircraft that have cycled through several countries' militaries before acquisition by Honduras; and bugs, bugs, bugs galore. Beyond the exhibition itself, Preston does an excellent job of providing the historical and cultural context for the both the ancient people from the region as well as Honduras today, much of which has been shaped by Spanish and then American imperialism. Oy.
About the aftermath of the expedition, I can only say, oh the humanity! Preston, along with approximately half of the expedition team, is struck by the tropical disease leishmaniasis, the description of which took me back to my years at Johns Hopkins working on public health content and being constantly amazed and disgusted at the myriad things that could go wrong with the human body.
It is a horrifying disease, and one largely without cure - Preston and the others were treated by the NIH, and with varying degrees of success, because that is literally the only place in America where one can be treated. The side effects of the treatment include anorexia and feeling like your head is on fire and may explode. Then there are the unlucky folks who can't tolerate treatment for even long enough to get the side effects...and we're talking mere minutes here.
Circling back to David Quammen, where I really made the connection was in Preston's analysis of the progress of "leish" and it's slow but determined march north, deep into the U.S. There's no doubt that it falls in the same category as the equally horrifying diseases Quammen profiles in Spillover.
And although there's plenty for the horror files here, or perhaps because of it, this is a book that anyone who's concerned about public health, healthcare in America, climate change should read; it's also a book that anyone who loves travel, history, culture, or science, or wants to understand more about the sacrifices individuals make in the name of science, will truly enjoy reading. This is a thought-provoking read on so levels.
Five stars.
The Lost City is Douglas Preston's account of the discovery of a "lost city" deep within the Honduran rain forest. From the earliest days of its suspected existence to the unearthing of the first artifacts, Preston was there documenting the entire process. The city, known sometimes - perhaps mythically - as the White City or the Lost City of the Monkey God - was abandoned roughly at the time of the Spanish conquest by a people who did not belong to the Mayan culture which dominated much of the region. Preston's descriptions are equal part science writing and travelogue; there's more than a hint of David Quammen here.
To give you a glimpse of the expedition itself: snakes bigger than men; mud up to the waist (in which one archaeologist believe she truly might sink and die); an insignificant tent in the face of fierce rains; transport by aircraft that have cycled through several countries' militaries before acquisition by Honduras; and bugs, bugs, bugs galore. Beyond the exhibition itself, Preston does an excellent job of providing the historical and cultural context for the both the ancient people from the region as well as Honduras today, much of which has been shaped by Spanish and then American imperialism. Oy.
About the aftermath of the expedition, I can only say, oh the humanity! Preston, along with approximately half of the expedition team, is struck by the tropical disease leishmaniasis, the description of which took me back to my years at Johns Hopkins working on public health content and being constantly amazed and disgusted at the myriad things that could go wrong with the human body.
It is a horrifying disease, and one largely without cure - Preston and the others were treated by the NIH, and with varying degrees of success, because that is literally the only place in America where one can be treated. The side effects of the treatment include anorexia and feeling like your head is on fire and may explode. Then there are the unlucky folks who can't tolerate treatment for even long enough to get the side effects...and we're talking mere minutes here.
Circling back to David Quammen, where I really made the connection was in Preston's analysis of the progress of "leish" and it's slow but determined march north, deep into the U.S. There's no doubt that it falls in the same category as the equally horrifying diseases Quammen profiles in Spillover.
And although there's plenty for the horror files here, or perhaps because of it, this is a book that anyone who's concerned about public health, healthcare in America, climate change should read; it's also a book that anyone who loves travel, history, culture, or science, or wants to understand more about the sacrifices individuals make in the name of science, will truly enjoy reading. This is a thought-provoking read on so levels.
Five stars.
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