The Blood of Free Men was one of the recommended reads from the last issue of the University of Michigan alumni magazine. I've never gone wrong with one of their suggestions before, the library had a copy, and the book is a succinct 250 pages, so I figured, why not? This is a book whose title tells you pretty much everything you need to know about what lies beneath the cover: it is an extremely detailed and informative, if sometimes dry, retelling of the days immediate before and after the liberation of the City of Lights. Michael Neiberg does an excellent job reconstructing the movements and motivations of those at the heart of the resistance uprising and ultimate Allied liberation.
This book was especially interesting to me because, despite the many French history classes I've taken over the years - and several hours spent at the Invalides military museum in Paris this past spring - I don't believe I had ever heard the story as Neiberg presents it, replete with iconic Parisian barricades (think Victor Hugo and Les Mis) and street fighting. Even at the Invalides museum, the majority of exhibits were devoted to that most memorable moment when Charles de Gaulle strode triumphantly down the Champs Elysees.
Neiberg also does a great job of presenting the primary actors, de Gaulle and Leclerc not least among them, from multi-faceted perspectives. De Gaulle is alternately maddening and inspiring, which I imagine is pretty true to life. Similarly, Neiberg fleshes out the American position so that the reader can really comprehend why they were not keen to liberate Paris initially. Ultimately, one or two questions do remain unresolved, such as the true motivations of the German commander, Choltitz, who was ordered to destroy Paris, but did not.
All of that said, The Blood of Free Men is probably best recommended for absolute history buffs, either of World War II or French (especially 3rd/4th republic) society and politics. Those looking for less academic reading on occupied Paris might prefer Death in the City of Light or Suite Franรงaise.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
The Midwife
The Midwife (which I also saw in a bookstore this past weekend with the title Call the Midwife), is the basis for my latest British television obsession, Call the Midwife. It's a seriously good show, and I was impressed how closely a great number of the plot lines hewed to the original book by Jennifer Worth, nee Lee. Although I admit to skimming some of the most, uh, detailed chapters on the art and science of midwifery (and nursing, generally), I found this book absolutely fascinating. Worth does a bang-up job of capturing life in London's East End, not only during the 1950s, when she lived there as a nurse and midwife, but - through her own research and the stories she learns from patients - of life there through the end of the 19th century and entire first half of the 20th.
It is this history that really sets the book apart from the television show. The show cannot capture the scope of the War World II destruction that still litters the landscape: entire city blocks that have been fenced off, the jagged remains of war - and the stench of a decade of filth therein deposited - filling the senses of all who live there. She takes a hard look at workhouses (the description of the workhouse howl is one of the most haunting passages I have read in a very long time), prostitution (often involuntary), and absolute, grinding poverty. As in the television show, most of the individuals who give this book life have dignity and humor that belies their circumstances.
Throughout the book, Worth captures not only the spirit of her patients, but their speech: the Cockney accents seem to leap off the pages and into the reader's ears with ease. Her appendix on the dialect is fascinating, and well worth reading.
The book, like the show, is absolutely fantastic, and I can recommend both without reservations. Four stars.
It is this history that really sets the book apart from the television show. The show cannot capture the scope of the War World II destruction that still litters the landscape: entire city blocks that have been fenced off, the jagged remains of war - and the stench of a decade of filth therein deposited - filling the senses of all who live there. She takes a hard look at workhouses (the description of the workhouse howl is one of the most haunting passages I have read in a very long time), prostitution (often involuntary), and absolute, grinding poverty. As in the television show, most of the individuals who give this book life have dignity and humor that belies their circumstances.
Throughout the book, Worth captures not only the spirit of her patients, but their speech: the Cockney accents seem to leap off the pages and into the reader's ears with ease. Her appendix on the dialect is fascinating, and well worth reading.
The book, like the show, is absolutely fantastic, and I can recommend both without reservations. Four stars.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
The Spoiler
The Spoiler is the last of my readings from the NPR summer reading list. Generally, it goes like this: London's tabloids are in a cut-throat competition to scoop one another in the late 1990s, just as the age of the internet is dawning. The book's protagonist, Tamara Sims, is caught in the rush when she is commissioned to write a piece on the life and times of Honor Tait, one of the country's great war correspondents.
Several times I was tempted to give up on The Spoiler altogether, but then I'd turn it over and read the reviews: "A cracking plot, alive with twists and turns and meaning" - The [London] Times and "Extremely funny and sharply observed" - the Guardian and "...a darkly, deliciously witty read" - The Independent. The reviews (and NPR) couldn't all be wrong. Could they? Unfortunately, for me, the answer was yes.
More than once I found myself wondering what I was missing. Was this a farce, in the style of Confederacy of Dunces? (Now there's a book I never should have read.) Every so often I would decide that it was, and then The Spoiler became almost funny, but then I'd change my mind and decide that this book really was intended to be taken seriously. To farce or not to farce? I still don't know. Equally frustrating was that Annalena McAfee alternates between clearheaded, fabulous writing and truly tying her sentences in knots. Several times I skipped entire paragraphs or skimmed multiple pages simply because I couldn't take anymore of the meandering, let's-play-thesaurus prose. (I should add that never once did I need to go back to see what I'd missed - evidently, you can skim heavily and still get the gist.) Also, there are many, many characters who seemed to exist entirely for McAfee's amusement (or word count). That is, they didn't appear to have any real relevance to the story (such as the Monday night salon gang), and their stories neither started, stopped, or intertwined in any meaningful way. Other characters seemed to have stories with real direction, but then they just disappeared in the last pages, leaving me wondering what the point was. Similarly, both Tamara and Honor Tait seemed to have back stories that were never fully revealed and didn't serve a great deal of (any?) purpose. Even more, I found the most interesting plot line - the coming Internet age - to be the least explored and, therefore, the most disappointing. Finally, I really did not like either Tamara or Honor, but given my litany of other complaints, it seems that hardly matters.
You've probably gathered, but I was tremendously disappointed in this book. There was a lot of promise here, and McAfee clearly has the chops for it, but the book was dragged down by unsympathetic characters and plodding prose. One star.
Several times I was tempted to give up on The Spoiler altogether, but then I'd turn it over and read the reviews: "A cracking plot, alive with twists and turns and meaning" - The [London] Times and "Extremely funny and sharply observed" - the Guardian and "...a darkly, deliciously witty read" - The Independent. The reviews (and NPR) couldn't all be wrong. Could they? Unfortunately, for me, the answer was yes.
More than once I found myself wondering what I was missing. Was this a farce, in the style of Confederacy of Dunces? (Now there's a book I never should have read.) Every so often I would decide that it was, and then The Spoiler became almost funny, but then I'd change my mind and decide that this book really was intended to be taken seriously. To farce or not to farce? I still don't know. Equally frustrating was that Annalena McAfee alternates between clearheaded, fabulous writing and truly tying her sentences in knots. Several times I skipped entire paragraphs or skimmed multiple pages simply because I couldn't take anymore of the meandering, let's-play-thesaurus prose. (I should add that never once did I need to go back to see what I'd missed - evidently, you can skim heavily and still get the gist.) Also, there are many, many characters who seemed to exist entirely for McAfee's amusement (or word count). That is, they didn't appear to have any real relevance to the story (such as the Monday night salon gang), and their stories neither started, stopped, or intertwined in any meaningful way. Other characters seemed to have stories with real direction, but then they just disappeared in the last pages, leaving me wondering what the point was. Similarly, both Tamara and Honor Tait seemed to have back stories that were never fully revealed and didn't serve a great deal of (any?) purpose. Even more, I found the most interesting plot line - the coming Internet age - to be the least explored and, therefore, the most disappointing. Finally, I really did not like either Tamara or Honor, but given my litany of other complaints, it seems that hardly matters.
You've probably gathered, but I was tremendously disappointed in this book. There was a lot of promise here, and McAfee clearly has the chops for it, but the book was dragged down by unsympathetic characters and plodding prose. One star.
Monday, November 26, 2012
When You Look Like Your Passport Photo, It's Time to Go Home
Thanksgiving weekend was productive, reading-wise; not only did I start and finish History of a Pleasure Seeker, but I also managed this light and funny travel memoir.
I was given this book by my sister, who remembered my adolescent fondness for the late humorist Erma Bombeck, whose columns appeared weekly in the newspaper. As you might have guessed from the title, When You Look Like Your Passport Photo... describes Erma's adventures traveling to places near (the Grand Canyon) and far (the Great Barrier Reef), exotic (Papua New Guinea) and less exotic (Canada). Beyond a bad case of traveler's envy, this book provided an interesting perspective on international travel 25 or 30 years ago. For example, Bombeck devotes one chapter to airline food, as in the complimentary meals that haven't been served in coach for the past decade. As she vents her frustration about being lost in one country after another my first thought is 'I can relate,' but my second 'yes, Garmin is my friend.'
The most interesting chapters for me were those devoted to her travels in the former Soviet Union, specifically the panel discussions in which she participated with the intent of fostering greater Soviet-American understanding. I believe she cuts to the heart of why so many of us travel when she writes, "Once you have looked into the eyes of people in a foreign country, you realize you all want the same thing: food on your table, love in your marriage, healthy children, laughter, freedom to be. ... [T]he dreams are all the same."
I was given this book by my sister, who remembered my adolescent fondness for the late humorist Erma Bombeck, whose columns appeared weekly in the newspaper. As you might have guessed from the title, When You Look Like Your Passport Photo... describes Erma's adventures traveling to places near (the Grand Canyon) and far (the Great Barrier Reef), exotic (Papua New Guinea) and less exotic (Canada). Beyond a bad case of traveler's envy, this book provided an interesting perspective on international travel 25 or 30 years ago. For example, Bombeck devotes one chapter to airline food, as in the complimentary meals that haven't been served in coach for the past decade. As she vents her frustration about being lost in one country after another my first thought is 'I can relate,' but my second 'yes, Garmin is my friend.'
The most interesting chapters for me were those devoted to her travels in the former Soviet Union, specifically the panel discussions in which she participated with the intent of fostering greater Soviet-American understanding. I believe she cuts to the heart of why so many of us travel when she writes, "Once you have looked into the eyes of people in a foreign country, you realize you all want the same thing: food on your table, love in your marriage, healthy children, laughter, freedom to be. ... [T]he dreams are all the same."
History of a Pleasure Seeker
History of a Pleasure Seeker was another pick from the NPR summer reading list. The novel is set primarily in Amsterdam in the opening years of the 20th century, although key scenes also take place in New York City, aboard the luxurious ocean liners of the day, and in Cape Town. It is, at heart, a book about class and opportunity: Piet longs to escape the dreary life that awaits him if he remains in Leiden and finds his escape as the tutor to the possibly autistic youngest son of the Vermeulen-Sickerts (not that such a diagnosis would have been made in 1907). The Vermuelen-Sickerts are one of Amsterdam's leading families and their son's affliction is at odds with the rest of their gilded, orderly life.
Once he arrives, Piet - and the reader - are thrown into a Downton Abbey-esque atmosphere of life above and belowstairs. There is a gruff butler, a strongwilled housekeeper, a convivial footman, and enough maids and cooks to keep a grand house running in belle epoque style. There is also no shortage of scandals on either side of the class divide.
The book is lively and fast pasted, well written, and with plenty of believable characters to go around. Ultimately, however, it served to drive home to me the extent to which I prefer non-fiction to fiction. I had a hard time caring about almost any of the characters and truly debated finishing the book once I discovered the ominous To be continued on the last page. I did finish it, though I must admit to skimming a passage here and there rather than reading closely. I will not be reading the sequel though.
Once he arrives, Piet - and the reader - are thrown into a Downton Abbey-esque atmosphere of life above and belowstairs. There is a gruff butler, a strongwilled housekeeper, a convivial footman, and enough maids and cooks to keep a grand house running in belle epoque style. There is also no shortage of scandals on either side of the class divide.
The book is lively and fast pasted, well written, and with plenty of believable characters to go around. Ultimately, however, it served to drive home to me the extent to which I prefer non-fiction to fiction. I had a hard time caring about almost any of the characters and truly debated finishing the book once I discovered the ominous To be continued on the last page. I did finish it, though I must admit to skimming a passage here and there rather than reading closely. I will not be reading the sequel though.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
April 1865: The Month That Saved America
Jay Winik has essentially taken the bulk of the Civil War, its major actors and causes, and analyzed the entire cataclysmic event in the context of a single month - April 1865. Occasionally I find a book so great that as I read I cannot help 1) annotating the text, willing myself to remember pieces of it and 2) wishing that I might have written it myself. April 1865 is just such a book.
In roughly 400 action packed and beautifully written pages, Winik has provided his readers not only the background on the war itself, but mini-biographies of everyone from Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses Grant (whose real name was Hiram; he became U.S. after he failed to correct a clerical error upon his admission to West Point), Jefferson Davis (middle name: Finis, as in his mother really was done after he, her tenth babe, was born), Robert E. Lee, Nathn Bedford Forrest, Andrew Johnson, John Wilkes Booth, William Sherman, Joe Johnston, and basically every other major general or politician of the era.
The events of a single month - the fall of Richmond, Lee's surrender, the assassination of Lincoln - are presented chronologically, yet with the history of all that proceeded and all that came after flawlessly knitted into their telling. The prose is often quite spare, allowing the events to speak for themselves. It is just as often was is not written that truly emerges, as in the description of Lee's final order to the men of the Army of Northern Virginia. After reproducing the order in full, Winik adds a single, simple sentence that elucidates clearly the relationship between North and South for decades to come. "For generations, General Orders Number 9 would be recited in the South with the same pride as the Gettysburg Address was learned in the North."
I can easily recommend April 1865 to anyone with a love of fine writing, an interest in American history, or an appreciation for the art of a good story, even - or especially - if the story is true. Four stars.
In roughly 400 action packed and beautifully written pages, Winik has provided his readers not only the background on the war itself, but mini-biographies of everyone from Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses Grant (whose real name was Hiram; he became U.S. after he failed to correct a clerical error upon his admission to West Point), Jefferson Davis (middle name: Finis, as in his mother really was done after he, her tenth babe, was born), Robert E. Lee, Nathn Bedford Forrest, Andrew Johnson, John Wilkes Booth, William Sherman, Joe Johnston, and basically every other major general or politician of the era.
The events of a single month - the fall of Richmond, Lee's surrender, the assassination of Lincoln - are presented chronologically, yet with the history of all that proceeded and all that came after flawlessly knitted into their telling. The prose is often quite spare, allowing the events to speak for themselves. It is just as often was is not written that truly emerges, as in the description of Lee's final order to the men of the Army of Northern Virginia. After reproducing the order in full, Winik adds a single, simple sentence that elucidates clearly the relationship between North and South for decades to come. "For generations, General Orders Number 9 would be recited in the South with the same pride as the Gettysburg Address was learned in the North."
I can easily recommend April 1865 to anyone with a love of fine writing, an interest in American history, or an appreciation for the art of a good story, even - or especially - if the story is true. Four stars.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Killer on the Road: Violence and the American Interstate
Killer on the Road... by Ginger Gail Strand was another NPR summer reading suggestion. It's a thin little book (roughly 200 pages) with a lot packed into it. This book examines the construction of America's interstates and the ways - directly and indirectly - that the highways have led to an increase in violence, particular of the serial killing variety. Despite the fact that Ben mocked me for reading a book about how the highway system came to be, I actually found the book informative, thought provoking and well-written, and the history of the highways was the most interesting to me. (I was most amused by the fact that the PA Turnpike was considered a "dreamway" when it was built and cars waited for hours for the opportunity to drive it. My experiences on this road usually run closer to nightmare than dream, but I guess it was a different world.)
My complaint with Killer centers on the fact that it often had a bit of split personality, frequently feeling like Strand had written two separate books - one on the construction of the interstate and one one serial killers - and smushed them together. In places, particularly the first chapter, this was done exceedingly well, while in others the connection between highways and murder appeared tenuous at best. I found her last chapter, where Strand examines the correlations between growth in highways and growth in murder rates in developing countries, to be especially intriguing. This book runs the gamut from urbanization and globalization to truck stop prostitution, 1950s' angst over juvenile delinquency and the military-industrial complex of the Cold War era. As usual, NPR is on the mark in recommending it.
My complaint with Killer centers on the fact that it often had a bit of split personality, frequently feeling like Strand had written two separate books - one on the construction of the interstate and one one serial killers - and smushed them together. In places, particularly the first chapter, this was done exceedingly well, while in others the connection between highways and murder appeared tenuous at best. I found her last chapter, where Strand examines the correlations between growth in highways and growth in murder rates in developing countries, to be especially intriguing. This book runs the gamut from urbanization and globalization to truck stop prostitution, 1950s' angst over juvenile delinquency and the military-industrial complex of the Cold War era. As usual, NPR is on the mark in recommending it.
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