Native Roots: How the Indians Enriched America

Native Roots is an obscure little book* that delves deeply into the cultures of the native tribes of the America, from the Inuits of the far north to the Incas of South America. Author Jack Weatherford examines aspects of their lives and civilizations from diet and housing, dress and transportation, with extensive sections devoted to the ways in which European settlers incorporated native elements into their new world - particularly when it came to their diet.

Weatherford also spends time education the reader on the ways in which native languages enriched English. Here, we have everything from kayak to raccoon, igloo to tobacco. Which is to say nothing of the continent's place names. My own town, Okemos, is named for an Ojibwe chief of the same name, and like every good Michigander, learned the meaning of Gitche Gumee as a child.

Native Roots especially examines the contributions of individual Native Americans to "American" history and culture, from Pocahontas to the entirety of Henry Schoolcraft's in-laws. Although his approach is less in-depth than those of Peter Starks (Astoria) or Stephen Ambrose (Undaunted Courage) - both of whom focus less of their overall work on the contribution of the Indian guides, but go into greater detail when they do - the overall impact is far greater because Weatherford's approach is much broader and ultimately provides a better sense of the collective impact of Native Americans on "Americanizing" the continent.

As is frequently the case with non-fiction, the audience that will truly enjoy reading Native Roots is relatively s mall, but readers who love early American history, and certainly pre-United States history, should be quickly taken in.


*Native Roots was published in 1992, yet has only 22 reviews on Amazon, so I'm extrapolating here, but I don't think unfairly.

The Mirrored World

Occasionally, I finish a book and find myself struggling to describe it in a meaningful way. That was the case with The Mirrored World. I chose this book for its relatively unique setting (at least as far as historical fiction is concerned): St. Petersburg in the years immediately before Catherine the Great ascended the throne. Unfortunately, save for the occasional glimpse of the Neva or description of the Winter Palace, the city itself was a relatively minor character.

At the most basic level, Debra Dean's novel is the story of cousins Dasha and Xenia, whose families are loosely connected to the royal court, and the latter of whom eventually marries one of the court's choristers, Colonel Andrei Feodorovich. When he dies tragically, Xenia descends rapidly into madness, distributing all of her wealth and possessions to the poor, while cousin Xenia tries futilely to help her overcome her grief.

I did not realize until after I'd finished the book and begin doing a bit of research that Xenia and Andrei were, in fact, a real couple, and that she became St. Xenia (saint day: September 11), a "holy fool" beloved by the residents of her city and famous for her sense of clairvoyance. The character of Dasha, as best I can tell, is Dean's own work.

Ultimately, I felt rather ambivalent about this book. Learning of St. Xenia lends a level of interest to it, and Dean's prose is fluid and beautiful, but I just wasn't that invested in what happened to either Xenia or Dasha, and I was admittedly disappointed by the fact that St. Petersburg, which looms so large in life, was relegated to such a supporting role in this book.

Island on Fire: The Extraordinary Story of a Forgotten Volcano That Changed the World

 Island on Fire: The Extraordinary Story of a Forgotten Volcano That Changed the World by Alexandra Witze and Jeff Kanipe is the story of Laki, the massive Icelandic volcano whose 1783 eruption plunged Europe - and possibly the wider world - into the dark (and subsequently the cold). In Iceland they died of the direct of effects of a poisoned environment; in western Europe of the prolonged effects of breathing in an unrelenting poisonous fog; further afield - as far as the Nile - of the effects of climate change wrought by this massive explosion.

Using the meticulous records of one Jón Steingrímsson, Witze and Kanipe reconstruct the terrifying days following the eruption of Laki. However, Island on Fire is more than the simple retelling of what happened to Iceland in 1783. It is a treatise on volcanology, from plate tectonics and magma build-up to detailed explanations on the scale and after-effects of eruptions from Mount Vesuvius (the one that buried Pompeii) and Krakatau (the Indonesian volcano whose eruption and final collapse could be heard as far as Singapore) to Mount Pelée (the Caribbean monster who erupted with devastating force in 1902) and Mount St. Helens. Even better, Witze and Kanipe bring the study of ice cores, atmospheric conditions, magma formation, lava flows, and killer gases emitted by underwater volcanoes to a level that laypeople can easily comprehend.

That said, I felt the title of this book didn't really do it justice. I read Island on Fire for two reasons. I'm getting ready to run a program in Iceland and I'm trying to read widely of the country before this happens. I came away with relatively little knowledge about Iceland, but a tremendous amount of knowledge about volcanoes in general. I would guess that roughly 50 percent of the book deals with Iceland directly, and perhaps 70-80 percent of that is about the Laki eruption. This isn't a complaint and shouldn't be an issue for most readers (ardent researchers of Laki aside), but it is something to note.

The bottom line: calling all science geeks, and those with a healthy appetite for science reading. On the other hand, if plate tectonics bores you, it would be best to find another book.

How the Scots Invented the Modern World: The True Story of How Western Europe's Poorest Nation Created Our World & Everything in It

Alexander Graham Bell: Scottish.
Adam Smith: Scottish.
Andrew Carnegie: Scottish.
Robert Burns: Scottish.
Sir Walter Scott: Scottish, obviously.

Also many of the U.S.'s founding fathers - from James Madison to Alexander Hamilton, Patrick Henry to Andrew Jackson were of Scottish descent. And so was Samuel Morse.

So the title of this book, How the Scots Invented the Modern World: The True Story of How Western Europe's Poorest Nation Created Our World & Everything in It, might be overreaching things, but perhaps just a bit.

The Scots, Arthur Herman informs the reader, were the first to develop a system of free and compulsory public education. The Scottish Enlightenment produced many of the finest thinkers in 18th century Europe: among them, economists, philosophers, architects, and doctors. And then, when the Scots left Scotland, they took with them ambition and drive and education and shaped the U.S. and Canada, New Zealand and Australia into their mold.

Herman's arguments are compelling. They are also, at times, a bit dry. Large chunks of How the Scots Invented the Modern World are lofty and, with all due respect, quite boring. The most interesting and most readable sections focus on individuals (such as Smith, Carnegie, Scott, and Bell) and historical events (such as the creation of the United Kingdom and the Highland Clearances) rather than, say,  the theological underpinnings of the Scottish Kirk. Unfortunately, there is much, much more of the latter than of anything else - and here I admit, I skimmed heavily, rather than reading closely. I was disappointed that the Highland Clearances were summarized in roughly two pages, a disservice to both the event and the reader, when ideas such as moral philosophy and politeness had received entire chapters.

Ultimately, I would say that if you're interested in any of the gentlemen whose names began this post, find a biography. If you're interested in the history of Scotland, I'm sure there are many. This is neither, and in that I was dismayed.

Madame Tussaud: A Novel of the French Revolution

I am of two minds about Madame Tussaud, Michelle Moran's recounting of the famous waxmaker in her pre-London fame days.

Marie Grosholtz (later Tussaud) is ambitious, Moran does not let us forget that. She has a great head for business, although more for the numbers than for giving the people what they want: the latter she must still learn at the knee of her mentor-uncle-father-protector, Philippe Curtius. Marie's skill with wax is unrivaled; not only does she create the displays to which rich and poor alike do flock, but on the eve of the French Revolution, she is invited to Versailles to become the tutor to Louis XVI's pious younger sister, the Princess Elisabeth. In the months and years that follow, Marie's world is torn apart by the revolution and ensuing Reign of Terror.

Based in historical fact and events, the first half is excellent. The book begins to unravel about two-thirds from the finish, though, as Moran compresses months and then years into a mere two or three pages, whereas the initial chapters might comprise a single day each. The story begins to suffer. Admittedly, I was also a bit put off by the character of Henri Charles. Not as Moran has created him - no he's very nice and sympathetic - but his mere presence. For while Grosholtz/Tussaud, Curtius, the royal family, and revolutionaries (chiefly Marat, Robespierre, and Desmoulins) were all real people, Henri Charles exists between the pages of Madame Tussaud alone. (A fact, a might add, the Moran should make clearer as she gives a post-revolution round-up of each of the figures who appeared in this book.)

I understand that much about Tussaud's life is suspect: a showwoman to her last, those who know best advise taking Tussaud's own memoirs with a grain of salt. Or two. Perhaps Moran felt the book needed a bit of romance, or perhaps she learned of some former flame, but in either case, I wish she had clarified this (as, for example, did Melanie Benjamin in advising readers of The Aviator's Wife just how much came from history and how much from her pen).

If you're dying to read a novel set during the French Revolution and you don't mind a co-mingling of real and imagined characters, Madame Tussaud is a rich and entertaining read. (And I still very much prefer it to Annette Vallon.)