Numero uno

George Washington: A Life by Willard Sterne Randall

Despite having a general (ha! get the hideous pun?) positive regard for our first president, I’ve darn near ignored him all these years. At least ever since I read all of those presidential biographies (the 64-page jobs) in 3rd grade.

I think I’ve been freaked out by the slaveholder aspect, so I’ve kept him far distant. I remain freaked out by that part, but I’ve gone in and read this here book anyway.

At first, I was a little bit worried that I’d waded in too deep. Meaning: there was an awful lot of detail about Washington’s younger years, and I was getting a little bit weary of all of that French and Indian War stuff.

But—every now and again, one of the author’s sentences would make me smile. So I stuck with it, and I’m glad I did. Randall makes Washington seem human. Thank goodness for that.

Here’s some of the stuff a person can learn about Washington:

- When he was a young soldier, he was not very successful At All.

- All that stuff about him being in love with his best friend’s wife: True. (But it seems to have been one of those unrequited situations, which earns him some points in my book. I’m an odd one that way.)

Once we got to the part when the Revolutionary War was in progress, (for me) this book really got cooking. Especially when Benedict Arnold did that traitor thing—gripping, I tell you!

(Quick aside: Am I the only one out there who first learned about Benedict Arnold from The Brady Bunch, when one of the boys [Bobby?] referred that way to someone who betrayed him? OK. Back to the book...)

Here is a wonderful sentence that captures a lot, both about Washington and about the American Revolution: “How George Washington brought the United States to victory in its war for independence was a mystery to the British, a wonder to the French, and a surprise to most Americans.” (p. 397) Indeed.

As I mentioned, this book brings Washington to life, and it largely brings him to life as a hero. Not that his slaveholding is ignored, but it’s not harshly criticized. But we know it’s there, lurking in the background, and it casts a shadow.

Overall, I’ve decided this approach to biography works for me: give me the grand narrative, but also tell me about the warts, and then I’ll get a sense of the person.

And... in other GW news, National Geographic put together a video that's pretty interesting, and it's free right here on the interweb:

And, in reading challenge news, this is my 19th presidential biography! I'm inching my way to the halfway point...

Book Blogger Appreciation Week 2010

I don't know about you, but by the time September rolls around, I'm going to be in the mood for a good doggone Book Blogger Appreciation Week.

So I've gone and signed up for it and everything.

You can, too.

The feelings in food

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender

While I usually have about 7 books going at a time, occasionally one of them will overtake the others. This book did that. It was the one I most wanted to read of the bunch.

Rose, who is about 9 years old when this book begins and in her early 20s when it ends, narrates this story about her quirky family and her own peculiar gift for tasting the emotions of the person who prepared the food she eats. It’s kind of like mind-reading, and it ain’t a good thing. (She resorts to eating lots of processed food, in order to avoid the emotional hubbub.)

And her family. Oh, her family.

Her brother Joseph is a genius who appears to have Aspergers, and he clearly is their mother’s favorite.

Their mother flits from interest to interest, trying to find her niche. It appears she finally does find it in woodworking, but at the studio she also finds Larry, who becomes her (secret) lover (whose existence Rose ferrets out by tasting guilt/excitement in her mother’s cooking).

And their father is a lawyer who seems largely disengaged emotionally from his family.

When Rose is a teen and Joseph is off at college nearby, she discovers that he too has an unusual—and troubling—talent: he disappears. I’ll leave it at that.

While this book is its own wonderful self, several read-alikes hit me along the way. Here goes:

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead (similar narrative voice)

Disobedience by Jane Hamilton (child knowing that the mother is having an affair)

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel (magical realism; the emotional power of food)

The best part of the book arrives at the end, when Rose has made a place for herself in this world.

Lovely book.

War

War by Sebastian Junger

Oh, this is not an easy book. It is every bit as dreary, frightening, and depressing as I thought it would be.

Yet, still, I am glad I read it. Even though it will haunt me.

But doggone it, we’re a nation at war; why the hell shouldn’t an American feel haunted?

Between June 2007 and June 2008, Junger (yes, the same guy who wrote The Perfect Storm and who writes for Vanity Fair) was an embedded reporter who lived with Army troops who were on the front lines in Afghanistan.

So he got as close to living their experience as anyone can, and thank goodness he’s one heck of a writer, because he makes it real to those of us who are reading in our comfy armchairs and living our cushy lives.

For even more of this reality, you can check out the documentary Restrepo, which Junger and Tim Hetherington co-directed and co-produced. The film’s web site also has photos of the soldiers who appear in the book.

As one would expect, there’s plenty of suffering in this book. Soldiers die, and soldiers are injured. And then the survivors wait around in a start of tense boredom, yearning for it all to start up again. That sentiment seems unfathomable, but Junger makes it make sense.

He writes that war (the big picture) is different from combat (what happens on the ground/air/sea), and that many of the soldiers grow to love combat. But, he says, for them, a love of combat does not equal a love of killing. Instead, combat comes to mean protecting, defending the tribe—which quickly becomes addictive.

The entire third section of the book, titled “Love” is a remarkable thing I’ll not soon forget.

And listen to this, from the section titled “Killing”:

“Society can give its young men almost any job and they’ll figure out how to do it. They’ll suffer for it and die for it and watch their friends die for it, but in the end it will get done. That only means that society should be careful about what it asks for.” (p. 154)

Dang.

Anyone else just feeling like weeping?

Happiness in book form

Junkyard Dogs by Craig Johnson

Normally I read fast.

But when Craig Johnson has a new book, I take my time.

There are so few authors whose books just bliss me out. He’s one of them.

Several nights ago, here was the situation: I’m on the sofa, reading page 6, laughing out loud. I ask you: Does it get any better than that?

In this latest novel, which is every bit as good as all of the earlier books (can it be that they’re getting even better as the series progresses?!) Sheriff Walt Longmire has a situation with the town junkman and his family—and then someone dies, and it looks like an accidental death—but no. Plus, one of his deputies has given notice. And Walt’s daughter is engaged to a cop, so that’s making him all weirded out, too. In other words, we’re all set up for one heck of a story.

I’ve raved before. I’ve raved often. But truly, there is no other narrative voice that can match Walt’s.

In an interview on “Book Lust with Nancy Pearl” from last year (on October 8, 2009—the podcast is available via iTunes), Craig Johnson said that sometimes, at book signings, people will give him notes to pass along to Walt Longmire. (I’m thinking some of them are marriage proposals.) Anyway, the thing is: Walt seems so darn real—flawed and funny and just plain decent.

But here’s the thing: The author has given us wonderful characters, but he also creates tight, interesting plots and a sense of place that just won’t quit.

In other words, he’s got it all going on.

I don't care about sports.

The Beckham Experiment by Grant Wahl

Every year of late, I’ve had the pleasure of hearing Lester Munson (of ESPN and Sports Illustrated fame) give a presentation. And following each such event, I have read at least one sports book.

Anyone who knows me will recognize that this is weird behavior. Indeed, for me, it is downright freakish.

Thus is the power of Lester Munson.

So this year, the result is that I picked up a soccer book. When Lester said, “Grant Wahl is the sweetest of writers,” I immediately decided to Read That Book, even though soccer leaves me cold.

Plus, David Beckham has one of the nicest faces ever to appear in my Us Weekly. I understand the appeal.

So first, I’ll confirm what Lester said: Grant Wahl is indeed a sweet writer. Even for the non-sports-fan reader—and I personally can attest to this—The Beckham Experiment is a pleasure to read. Wahl’s writing makes the reading effortless, and he spins a very fine narrative.

Mercifully, there’s relatively little actual soccer playing described in this book, and, when I needed to, I was able to skim over those sections and land on a nice summary sentence that told me what I needed to know. Though mostly I hung in there and tried to pick up some soccer terms, because it seemed the decent thing to do.

The book is much more about the people—their quirks and their relationships to one another; the enormous salary differences between the stars (in 2008, Beckham at $6.5 million, Donovan at $900K) and the newer, lesser-known players (earning as little as $12K—egads!); the weirdness of fame; the business side of things (the Beckham “brand,” underwear ads and all); and the quest to make soccer a huge spectator sport in the United States. (My prediction: ain’t never gonna happen.)

If you really want to think well of David Beckham, you may want to steer clear of this book. The last couple of chapters are rather damning, despite a general consensus that he is a good man—and I was left feeling a bit let down (because soccer means a whole lot to me. Right.) Really, it was that I wanted him to be better than he was/is.

See what happens when I read a sports book? Disillusionment, disenchantment, disappointment. No more.

Until next year.

Book Club at 3 1/2

Our book club has now reached the age of preschoolers! We’re at the 3 ½ year mark, and we’re going strong—and growing!

In February, I reported on our age 3 check-up.

And in that update, I gave our big, huge list.

And now here’s the latest stuff we’ve read:

They Dared Return by Patrick K. O’Donnell

Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck

Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea by Jules Verne

I’ll just say right now that I won’t be writing anything about those last three. They’re classics, so what the heck am I going to say?

(I am a big liarhead. I will say that Cat’s Cradle was my favorite of that bunch. That’s all.)

On re-reading

Re-reading. It is a darn interesting topic.

At least for readers, it is.

While getting caught up on podcasts (which can be its own special kind of time warp when you’re as far behind as I am), I recently listened to the Nancy Pearl Book Review podcast from December 18, 2009.

She and the snarky host were talking about books we re-read: what are they, and why do we choose them? Why do we “waste time” by re-reading, when there are so many other books to read?

And, as Nancy said, do we ever really re-read a book, since each time we read a particular book, we are at a different stage of our life? The book may be the same, but the reader is different.

The most thought-provoking part was the conversation with Suzanne Morrison, who writes about books for The Huffington Post. She wrote an article titled “Forget the Facebook Quizzes: This’ll Tell You Who You Are,” which made me begin to think twice about revealing my own re-reading preferences. Yikes. Now it feels like I’m about to slink around the blog in a bikini, which, I can assure you, nobody wants.

The other interesting topic was: Why do some books stand up after re-reading, while others are diminished? I confess that this question occurs to me often, often!, when I am re-reading a book in preparation for a book discussion. Maybe it’s also the need to develop questions that will keep a conversation going, but often I think, “This was better the first time around…” and I get that sinking feeling…

But, with other books, I am so, so happy that they keep working their particular magic. And some of them become refuges.

So, here are my top re-reading choices:

Topping the list (meaning: I’ve read these puppies at least 4 times)

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

Young Men and Fire by Norman Maclean

In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O’Brien

All the President’s Men by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward

The runners-up (meaning: I’ve read these guys at least 3 times)

Happy All the Time by Laurie Colwin

The Killer Angels by Michael Shaara

A Night to Remember by Walter Lord

The Spy Wore Red by Aline, Countess of Romanones

And this list contains a few others, some of which are intentional/just-for-fun re-reads, and some of which were re-reads-for-a-book-discussion.

Other than, “I love that book!” I’m not too sure why I re-read, and I’ve decided that I’m not going to gaze at my navel in an attempt to figure it out. I’m sticking with plain old “I love that book!” It works.

So--I'm wondering:

What are your favorite books to re-read? Do you have tried and true favorites that you repeat time and time again?

Cottage living, Lincoln style

Lincoln's Sanctuary: Abraham Lincoln and the Soldiers' Home by Matthew Pinsker

Crap. I read the wrong book. How did this happen? I’m a professional, for the love of Mike!

(photo credit: Library of Congress)

Here’s what I did: Before visiting Lincoln’s Cottage at the Soldiers’ Home, I read Lincoln’s Other White House: The Untold Story of the Man and His Presidency by Elizabeth Smith Brownstein. That was a mistake. It was a bit of a weird book, which felt more like an apology for Mary Lincoln and a collection of snapshot biographies of various generals than it did an in-depth look at Lincoln at the Soldiers’ Home. OK, I know that is snarky. But I truly was disappointed by that book.

This here book—Lincoln’s Sanctuary: Abraham Lincoln and the Soldiers’ Home by Matthew Pinsker—is the one I should have read. This one is the book about Lincoln and the Soldiers’ Home.

So now I’ve read it, and I’m glad.

Here’s our “Who Knew?!” fact of the day: Abraham Lincoln spent about 1/4 of his presidency residing at the Soldiers’ Home on the (then-)outskirts of Washington, D.C., since it provided relief from the sweltering heat of the city and afforded the family a modicum of privacy. During the summers of 1862, 1863, and 1864, Lincoln commuted from the Soldiers’ Home to the White House for work. (Check me here: Can a person commute on horseback?)

Not only does author Pinsker stay on topic, but his writing is very nice. This fellow can assemble quite a fine sentence, which makes this book a pleasure to read.

He also beautifully combines the public and private elements of Lincoln’s life to show the president as an actual human being. For example, Pinsker mentions the spans of time when Mary Lincoln was away, surmising about the effects of her absence on the president.

Truly, for any presidential history geek, a visit to the Lincoln Cottage is highly recommended. When I was there, an amazingly good tour guide led the small group through the house, and it was totally worth the price of admission. (In D.C., with all those free museums, it’s almost weird to pay admission to anything, but I tell you, this place is worth it!)

Booking Through Thursday: Long and Short of It

From Booking Through Thursday this week:

Which do you prefer? Short stories? Or full-length novels?

I'll keep this short: Novels!

With only an occasional exception, I'm a novel reader through and through.

Librarian Gaga

The Lady Gaga thing has gone completely mainstream. Here's how we know:

Earlier, other geeks gave it a whirl:

.... all inspired by these guys: