Fly Girls delves into some of the lesser known aspects of the "Golden Age of Flying" from the late 1920s until Amelia Earhart disappeared on her round-the-world flight a decade later. Specifically author Keith O'Brien revisits the history of women pilots during this era, not only Earhart, but many others whose names have long since faded from the national conscience: Ruth Nichols and Louise Thaden, Ruth Elder and Florence Klingensmith, with plenty of ink devoted as well to that most famous flier, Miss Earhart.
O'Brien does justice to each of these women, and Fly Girls works as a min-biography for a half dozen of the earliest women pilots. More crucially, O'Brien examines the prejudices these early pilots faced, including the rather preposterous regulation against flying immediately before, during, or after menstruation. Unfair, no doubt, but not terrifying. No, the terrifying risks were borne by all pilots, male and female alike, and again and again O'Brien documents the horrifying results of early planes, rudimentary airfields, and nascent navigation.
Frequently these crashes occurred at the National Air Races, an annual exhibition of the finest pilots and fastest planes, and attendance at which often outdrew the World Series. (I lost track of the fatalities somewhere in the middle years.)
Part history of flight, part women's history, Fly Girls is ultimately a look at an entire era - the zeitgeist, the mores, the thrills of victory and the agonies of defeat. In that sense, it serves as a reminder of the sacrifices early pioneers in any discipline must make.
Five stars.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Friday, September 21, 2018
So Much Life Left Over
The narrative of Louis de Bernieres's So Much Life Left Over has the feel of a short story collection. The chapters are are told from the perspective of friends whose lives were upended by World War I - psyches shattered, fiances and brothers killed, dreams derailed. In the aftermath of the war, they've settled across the world, in Ceylon, in India (modern day Pakistan), in Britain, and are busy building new lives in the shadow of the Great War.
de Bernieres follows them through the decades: marriage and children; careers and displacements; unbearable or stoically-borne heartbreaks. Soon, another war is upon this and these friends who were raised in the midst of an all-but-disappeared way of life (think Downton Abbey) are old enough to have fought once, and young enough to volunteer again - sometimes alongside their children.
So Much Life Left Over is ultimately an ode to what it means to be alive, the many ways large and small in which we all must compromise, the events both large and small that can derail plans in an instant. Quietly, each of these characters must learn to live with what life has inflicted, choices that de Bernieres helps his reader understand apply not only to Daniel and Rosie and Wragge and Archie. Oh, there's humor along the way, generally courtesy of Rosie's dotty mother, and I wouldn't term it a tearjerker by any stretch of the imagination, but it is, nonetheless, a quietly philosophical work.
Four stars.
de Bernieres follows them through the decades: marriage and children; careers and displacements; unbearable or stoically-borne heartbreaks. Soon, another war is upon this and these friends who were raised in the midst of an all-but-disappeared way of life (think Downton Abbey) are old enough to have fought once, and young enough to volunteer again - sometimes alongside their children.
So Much Life Left Over is ultimately an ode to what it means to be alive, the many ways large and small in which we all must compromise, the events both large and small that can derail plans in an instant. Quietly, each of these characters must learn to live with what life has inflicted, choices that de Bernieres helps his reader understand apply not only to Daniel and Rosie and Wragge and Archie. Oh, there's humor along the way, generally courtesy of Rosie's dotty mother, and I wouldn't term it a tearjerker by any stretch of the imagination, but it is, nonetheless, a quietly philosophical work.
Four stars.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Reader, Come Home: The Reading Brain in a Digital World
Recently one of my favorite journalists wrote a review of a restaurant that he said was so bad that "I'm only writing about it as a warning." I'm not delusional enough to think I have anywhere near the audience or influence as this gentleman, but all the same, I'm reviewing Reader, Come Home only to warn you off it.
If you know me personally, you know that we have a particular, personal interest in neuroscience in our house, and also a child on the cusp (we hope!) of learning to read. Maryanne Wolf's book seemed like a "must read" from both perspectives, and from the first few pages, I foolishly hoped it would provide me practical insights on preparing my son for this brave new world. According to the back cover, Reader, Come Home, is a "must-read" and "a game changer for parents and educators." As if.
Here are my take-aways: 1) Read to your children. 2) There's some evidence that reading hard copy, instead of electronically, increases retention. For some people. 3) It's probably not good to use technology as a babysitter - it might just rot the brain a bit. And, no, that's not the scientific term for what happens. Admittedly, I was shocked by the statistic that the average amount of time spent by three- to five-year-old children on digital devices was four hours a day in 2015.
That said, I'm going to presume there's not much new here for most anyone who would pick up Reader, Come Home. The neuroscience could be new, but I found Wolf's explanations far too obtuse, and for all the times she used the word "plasticity," there was little there about what we parents might do, if anything, to fully maximize this magic time.
Zero stars.
If you know me personally, you know that we have a particular, personal interest in neuroscience in our house, and also a child on the cusp (we hope!) of learning to read. Maryanne Wolf's book seemed like a "must read" from both perspectives, and from the first few pages, I foolishly hoped it would provide me practical insights on preparing my son for this brave new world. According to the back cover, Reader, Come Home, is a "must-read" and "a game changer for parents and educators." As if.
Here are my take-aways: 1) Read to your children. 2) There's some evidence that reading hard copy, instead of electronically, increases retention. For some people. 3) It's probably not good to use technology as a babysitter - it might just rot the brain a bit. And, no, that's not the scientific term for what happens. Admittedly, I was shocked by the statistic that the average amount of time spent by three- to five-year-old children on digital devices was four hours a day in 2015.
That said, I'm going to presume there's not much new here for most anyone who would pick up Reader, Come Home. The neuroscience could be new, but I found Wolf's explanations far too obtuse, and for all the times she used the word "plasticity," there was little there about what we parents might do, if anything, to fully maximize this magic time.
Zero stars.
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Dear Mrs. Bird
Dear Mrs. Bird is a lighthearted take on a brutal time: life in London during the blitz. Emmy Lake is a girl with serious pluck, and when she lands her dream job in journalism, she is a woman on the make, dreaming of her life as a war correspondent. Unfortunately, she's forgotten to ask any questions at her job interview, and only learns that the new job is not, in fact, at the London Evening Chronicle, but at a little-known ladies' weekly, whose fierce Editress, Mrs. Bird, also writes the advice column.
Mrs. Bird wouldn't deign to let any Unpleasantness into her column, though, and has a long list of Unmentionable Topics; any letter that veers into even questionable territory is to be summarily cut up. Emmy feels a genuine sympathy for many of these women, and plots to answer their most personal queries with her own experience, and the advice a few friends. The results are predictable, which doesn't make them any less comical.
What AJ Pearce does so deftly is weave this lighthearted tale with the nightly air raids and war time troubles, in general. Emmy and her flatmate Bunty are spunky, fun protagonists, characteristics they share with Dear Mrs. Bird.
Four-and-a-half stars.
Mrs. Bird wouldn't deign to let any Unpleasantness into her column, though, and has a long list of Unmentionable Topics; any letter that veers into even questionable territory is to be summarily cut up. Emmy feels a genuine sympathy for many of these women, and plots to answer their most personal queries with her own experience, and the advice a few friends. The results are predictable, which doesn't make them any less comical.
What AJ Pearce does so deftly is weave this lighthearted tale with the nightly air raids and war time troubles, in general. Emmy and her flatmate Bunty are spunky, fun protagonists, characteristics they share with Dear Mrs. Bird.
Four-and-a-half stars.
Friday, September 7, 2018
Chesapeake Requiem: A Year with the Watermen of Vanishing Tangier Island
Chesapeake Requiem may well be the most powerful, provocative book I read all year. Earl Swift spent a year on tiny Tangier Island, deep in the Chesapeake Bay, living amongst the few hundred residents who call it home. These hardy individuals, whose numbers are dwindling by the year, primarily make their living off the water and nearly all of them can trace their lineage back to the pre-Revolutionary settlers.
Swift captures the spirit of Tangier, which is rife with contradictions, so eloquently that I practically felt I was there next to him. As the title says, Tangier Island is slowly disappearing. Never mind that the stages of disappearance can be traced to at least 1850; the bottom line is that the island likely has but a handful of years left. Like many rural places, though, the demographics are also working against the continuation of Tangier and the way of life there. As Swift notes, the end of Tangier will likely come down to a race between climate change and demographics.
Swift captures the spirit of Tangier, which is rife with contradictions, so eloquently that I practically felt I was there next to him. As the title says, Tangier Island is slowly disappearing. Never mind that the stages of disappearance can be traced to at least 1850; the bottom line is that the island likely has but a handful of years left. Like many rural places, though, the demographics are also working against the continuation of Tangier and the way of life there. As Swift notes, the end of Tangier will likely come down to a race between climate change and demographics.
As for that climate change bit: the population of Tangier Island is skeptical, and that's putting it mildly. They do agree that their island is disappearing, and they're desperate to save it, but they believe the culprit is "erosion" and not "rising sea levels" and I'll leave it to the reader to split those hairs - although Swift does a fine job of both providing the scientific background and the Tangier perspective. The federal government has been concerned about the rapid disappearance of the island as well, primarily for the migratory bird habitat it provides, and has "studied" the issue on and off for the past 20 years.
Like much of Rural America, Tangier Island was and remains Trump Country. While this may seem one contradiction too many, by the time Swift had enumerated all of the various studies and the studies of the studies and so on, I was sympathetic to the notion of wanting someone who promised to slash red tape. And build walls. Tangiermen really, really, really want a seawall, and their mayor has even gone on the record as saying maybe Washington should just build them a sea wall if the folks in the Southwest don't want one. Desperate times call for desperate arguments.
It would be easy enough for Swift to have created caricatures; presumably most of his readers won't have visited Tangier, nor perhaps have firsthand experience with many from the tiny towns that dot this country. Why not confirm the stereotypes? Yet, Swift has done a commendable job of presenting a holistic portrait of the men and women who call Tangier home. Time and again I was struck by how hard they work and how hard life is. Up and at 'em closer to midnight than daylight, as Swift observes, and not just occasionally, but every. single. day., the men work the water until either it claims them (not too uncommon, unfortunately - remember, commercial fishing is the most dangerous occupation in America) or until they physically can do it no longer.
Lest the reader have their own ideas about when that might be, Swift provides a sketch of two hale watermen working their boat in high seas, on a day when he can barely remain upright. One of the two is 81 and the other recently celebrated his 86th birthday. Crabbing is not for the faint of heart. In his year on the island, Swift witnesses heartbreaking tragedy, as well as the reaction of the town to that tragedy, which can largely be summarized as doubling down on hard work, faith, and taking care of their own.
Ah, faith. The municipal water town is painted with a cross, and I'm sure you've already guessed there's no shortage of prayer in the school. (That would be the K-12 school, enrollment 58, where the class of 2016 was uncommonly large for having 7 graduates.) There are two churches, though, and if attendance isn't mandated, the blue laws restricting Sunday commerce as well as the dry laws restricting any alcohol sales on-island are.
By the end of Chesapeake Requiem, I felt I actually knew some of the individuals, and wanted to know them better. I would say I've added Tangier to my bucket list, for the just-caught crab cakes and crab hush puppies if nothing else, but I recognize I'm unlike to make it there before it - or its denizens - disappears. At its heart, this is a book that asks its readers to think about the myriad people and cultures that comprise this country, the ways in which we fit together, and how we value one another, our beliefs, and our land. For these reasons, Chesapeake Requiem should be required reading for anyone who lives in this country or wants to understand it better.
I'd give it six stars if I could.
Monday, September 3, 2018
The ones I haven't finished...
I have read a number of truly outstanding books this summer (see A Gentleman in Moscow, Call the Nurse, Tai-Pan, and Lost City of the Monkey God for just a few of the highlights). I've also started and abandoned a number of clunkers, which I'll cover here very briefly:
American Scoundrel: The Life of the Notorious Civil War General Dan Sickles
Sickles was the first person to successfully use temporary insanity as a defense against committing murder after he murdered his wife's lover, Philip Barton Key (son of Francis Scott Key). As portrayed by Thomas Keneally, Sickles was also a spendthrift, womanizer, swindler, Tammany Hall politician, and general scumbag. I gave up on this one both because I could hardly stomach Sickles and because I felt the book, though excellently written, was too much in the weeds. (I also recognize that those issues go hand-in-hand and if I hadn't been so thoroughly put off by Sickles's person, I might have found the additional detail interesting rather than repulsive.)
Bunker Hill: A City, A Siege, A Revolution
I picked up Nathaniel Philbrick's Bunker Hill because I was interested in deepening my knowledge about the American Revolution, about which I've read significantly less than the Civil War of either of the World Wars. Honestly, it was just too dense for my level of interest and I found I just wasn't that interested in every actor and every scene leading up to the break with Britain. Like American Scoundrel, I have no complaints about the book or writing per se, and think a reader with a strong interest in the topic would find this a worthy read. I've simply decided life is too short, and my reading list too long, to continue slogging away at those that don't fully capture my attention.
Factory Girls: From Village to City in a Changing China
Leslie T. Chang's Factory Girls has been on my reading list for ages and I finally tackled it this summer after a few days in Vietnam left me looking for hard facts and data on the phases of globalization and transition from villages (or in some cases, "villages") to cities. Unfortunately, I would categorize Chang's work as a bit more anthropological in nature, and while she unquestionably creates a dynamic and accurate portrayal of migrant life in China (circa early 2000s), there is far, far less (virtually nothing in the 170 pages I read) about the larger causes, both in China and elsewhere, that lead young people, especially, to leave their native villages for a chance in big, and often anonymous and frightening, cities. Chang also commits one of my pet peeves and inserts herself and her family story into her work, with little to no payoff. It's not that her personal history is uninteresting; it's just not why I was reading the book, and it was a distraction. In any case, for those looking to put a personal face on the migrant experience in China, Chang provides that. For those looking for another lens through which to understand globalization, I'd argue not so much.
Dirigible Dreams: The Age of the Airship
Dirigible Dreams opens with great promise and potential, as C. Michael Hiam provides a riveting survivor's account of traveling aboard the ill-fated Hindenburg. Unfortunately, that is simply the prelude to the highly-detailed history of the birth of airships, which emerged as the brain child of German Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin in the early twentieth century. From there Hiam traces the innovations that Germans, British, and Americans made, particularly for military use. I'm not sure whether he got back around to the Hindenburg or not - I lost interest about two-thirds of the way through in the midst of numerous disasters and crashes, but without the most famous of the doomed airships in sight.
Summer, in a nutshell.
American Scoundrel: The Life of the Notorious Civil War General Dan Sickles
Sickles was the first person to successfully use temporary insanity as a defense against committing murder after he murdered his wife's lover, Philip Barton Key (son of Francis Scott Key). As portrayed by Thomas Keneally, Sickles was also a spendthrift, womanizer, swindler, Tammany Hall politician, and general scumbag. I gave up on this one both because I could hardly stomach Sickles and because I felt the book, though excellently written, was too much in the weeds. (I also recognize that those issues go hand-in-hand and if I hadn't been so thoroughly put off by Sickles's person, I might have found the additional detail interesting rather than repulsive.)
Bunker Hill: A City, A Siege, A Revolution
I picked up Nathaniel Philbrick's Bunker Hill because I was interested in deepening my knowledge about the American Revolution, about which I've read significantly less than the Civil War of either of the World Wars. Honestly, it was just too dense for my level of interest and I found I just wasn't that interested in every actor and every scene leading up to the break with Britain. Like American Scoundrel, I have no complaints about the book or writing per se, and think a reader with a strong interest in the topic would find this a worthy read. I've simply decided life is too short, and my reading list too long, to continue slogging away at those that don't fully capture my attention.
Factory Girls: From Village to City in a Changing China
Leslie T. Chang's Factory Girls has been on my reading list for ages and I finally tackled it this summer after a few days in Vietnam left me looking for hard facts and data on the phases of globalization and transition from villages (or in some cases, "villages") to cities. Unfortunately, I would categorize Chang's work as a bit more anthropological in nature, and while she unquestionably creates a dynamic and accurate portrayal of migrant life in China (circa early 2000s), there is far, far less (virtually nothing in the 170 pages I read) about the larger causes, both in China and elsewhere, that lead young people, especially, to leave their native villages for a chance in big, and often anonymous and frightening, cities. Chang also commits one of my pet peeves and inserts herself and her family story into her work, with little to no payoff. It's not that her personal history is uninteresting; it's just not why I was reading the book, and it was a distraction. In any case, for those looking to put a personal face on the migrant experience in China, Chang provides that. For those looking for another lens through which to understand globalization, I'd argue not so much.
Dirigible Dreams: The Age of the Airship
Dirigible Dreams opens with great promise and potential, as C. Michael Hiam provides a riveting survivor's account of traveling aboard the ill-fated Hindenburg. Unfortunately, that is simply the prelude to the highly-detailed history of the birth of airships, which emerged as the brain child of German Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin in the early twentieth century. From there Hiam traces the innovations that Germans, British, and Americans made, particularly for military use. I'm not sure whether he got back around to the Hindenburg or not - I lost interest about two-thirds of the way through in the midst of numerous disasters and crashes, but without the most famous of the doomed airships in sight.
Summer, in a nutshell.
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