Political geek rejoices

Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime by John Heilemann and Mark Halperin

Perhaps the reason that I sighed with great joy when reading page 3 of this book was that I was sitting in the massage chair at the beauty shop (as we called the salon when I was a just a little girl), getting my hair returned to its natural color (my natural color when I was just a little girl).

But probably it had more to do with the fact that this book is everything I adore: a behind-the-scenes account of a presidential campaign, filled with all kinds of details provided by insiders.

I am sitting here, grinning, at the mere thought of such a book.

If you wish to abandon this blog immediately to avoid further contact with such a one, I do not fault you.

But I do not apologize. I can’t help it: I’ve been a campaign news geek ever since I was just a little girl.

(First political memory: At age 4, I told the other preschoolers who my mom voted for in the presidential election. I don’t recall that anyone present particularly cared; I also recall thinking, “Oh… I don’t think I was supposed to tell.”)

This book is way the heck more recent than that, as you can tell from its big long subtitle. It’s about that most addictive of all presidential campaign seasons: 2008. And also about the couple of years leading up to it, when the candidates were getting their stuff together.

And it’s written in a wonderfully lively style that is a delight to experience. I tell you, it’s lively!

Heilemann and Halperin move effortlessly from using words (several of them) that I had to look up in the dictionary (including this word, which ain’t even in my collegiate dictionary: tsuris*) to a conversational tone like we see here:

“Some days later, Bill received a phone call from George W. Bush. The current and former presidents spoke more often than almost anyone knew; from time to time, when 43 was bored, he would call 42 to chew the fat.” (p. 227)

So—since this is behind-the-scenes stuff—we get to hear the candidates saying snide things and getting all frustrated with their staffers and using very bad language.

And then there’s the whole John Edwards fiasco. And the Palin thing. That’s the prurient stuff.

On a higher plane, we get to see how national and international events affected the strategies of the candidates. And we see the maneuverings that led to certain endorsements. And it all unfolds like we know it will, but we get to hear the story behind the story.

For narrative nonfiction junkies, this book is pure pleasure. For political junkies, same thing.

*found it in the Big Dictionary I got here; it means “trouble” (with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for pool)

Booking Through Thursday: Beach Buddies

Yup. It's Thursday.

On Booking Through Thursday, here's the question of the week:

Which fictional character (or group of characters) would you like to spend a day at the beach with? Why would he/she/they make good beach buddies?

And here's my answer, in two parts.

First, the rejection of the premise: I don't go to the beach!

I really don't like the beach. I sunburn even while wearing SPF 50 and sitting under a huge umbrella. And sunscreen and sand are a truly vile mixture to have affixed to one's person. There it is.

Second, the sudden emergence of an answer anyway: Nancy Drew!

And Bess and George. Those girls know how to solve crimes. Who could be better company if you're stuck on a beach? Most certainly they'd discover a jewel thief or some such, and then there'd be a ripping good tale that would make the beach visit worthwhile. Almost certainly the lifeguard would be a secret villain.

And now I'm really, really regretting that I was too cheap to buy that Nancy Drew purse I saw at ALA once upon a time. (But apparently I'm still too cheap, because such purses are buyable online, and I still ain't budging.)

Stunning

The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien

There’s something about Tim O’Brien’s books that makes me feel a very strong urge to re-read immediately. I think it’s all the ambiguity.

Plus, I believe him to be worthy of one of them MacArthur genius grants.

His books rock my world.

This is a book I’ve been avoiding for a very long time. I knew someday I’d read it… when I Was Ready. (Similarly, I once dodged Margaret Atwood for about a half-decade, until I determined I Was Ready.)

I’ve been thinking about Vietnam lately, for some reason—and my recent reading of War and viewing of Restrepo have had me thinking about war and soldiers—and so I figured now’s the time. I had the book already checked out from the library when I saw Sophisticated Dorkiness’s online book discussion announced, and I opened the book.

And, dear heaven, this book. This book.

This is a desert island book. It’s the kind of book a person can read and re-read and ponder and discuss and then return to it again.

Just reading the first chapter, also titled “The Things They Carried,” is enough to stop a person’s heart.

And “On the Rainy River” made me weep—the story of how the narrator nearly went to Canada to evade the draft, how he was helped by a stoic older man near the border who feigned ignorance of the younger man’s situation, and why he returned to his home so that he could be sent to war. The silence of those men. It gets me.

Then, the chapters “Speaking of Courage” and “Notes” stunned me so much I had to put the book down so I could let them sink in. (I just wandered around the house in a daze.) The first of those chapters seems like a gently melancholy soldier-returned-home story, and the latter pulls the rug out from under you. But in the fairest possible way. (Not all authors do that action fairly. This guy does.)

This book feels true. Even though I don’t know jack about war. But I trust O’Brien when he writes, even though he tells us that some of the stories are not precisely true—that they’re versions made more true by tweaking some of the details. And I get that. I do.

There are so many reasons this book is on track to be a classic.

But don’t listen to me. Here’s Julia Keller, who can actually tell it.

I swear to God, just reading her article about this book made me get weepy.

O’Brien’s book not only made me weepy, but it made me stand still and stare. I don’t do that so very often.

Fancy dress

A Vintage Affair by Isabel Wolff

Isabel Wolff’s written several books by now, but this one—because it has vintage clothes in it—grabbed me when I read a review.

(I have a weird weakness for vintage clothes books, even though I own not a single article of vintage clothing and generally have the style sense of a crow.)

I’m thinking it was probably a ravingly positive review, because that’s what this book deserves. It’s everything a chick lit/women’s fiction book ought to be.

Here’s what I mean--

This book is witty. The writing is lovely—nice and easy, but not simplistic. Just a pleasure to read.

It’s light enough to enjoy during the summertime, yet also deals with some substantial stuff (yes, peeps, there’s death in this book).

It’s got a great cast of characters, and it shows them as they experience some key changes in their lives. So yes, there’s a plot.

Speaking of which…

Here comes the plot summary:

Phoebe, a thirtysomething Londoner, has just opened a vintage clothing shop. She’s also mourning her best friend’s death and feeling enormous amounts of guilt about how she believes she could have prevented it. Add to the mix the breaking-off of her engagement, dealing with the aftermath of her parent’s divorce, some good-looking men vying for her attention, and her new friendship with an elderly lady who has kept a heartbreaking secret all her life—and you’ve got yourself a fine set-up for a novel.

Plus there are gowns!

…including “cupcake dresses”—ballerina-length prom dresses from the ’50s that hold seemingly magical powers to transform their new owners’ lives for the good.

(Photo credit: CoutureAllure.com; original photo = an ad in an issue of Seventeen magazine from 1957)

It kind of makes me want to flounce around in taffeta and tulle.

If you’re in the mood for this sort of thing, here are some others to try:

- Cupid and Diana by Christina Bartolomeo (romantic comedy; vintage clothing shop)

- The early novels of Elinor Lipman (I’m thinking especially of The Way Men Act, which is a romantic comedy set in a flower shop)

- Shattered Silk by Barbara Michaels (romantic suspense; vintage clothing)

Warning: may be flounce-inducing

Booking Through Thursday: Podcasts

From Booking Through Thursday, here's this week's question:

Suggested by Clare:

Do you ever listen to book-related podcasts?

If so, which ones and why? (Include the URLs for people who aren’t familiar with them.)

Or, of course, there’s the flip side … did you even know that such a thing existed? (I ask because I know a lot of people who have no idea what a podcast is.)

Here I am, booking through Thursday, even as my blog template tells me it shall implode within 24 hours. Now that’s dedication. : )

I love podcasts.

As I trot around town doing my many minutes of exercise, I need a distraction, and usually podcasts are it.

While personal finance podcasts are my top podcast choice, followed by The Dinner Party Download, reading podcasts are right up there on my list.

My favorite book-related podcasts both come to us from the incomparable Nancy Pearl (she of the librarian action figure). They are:

Book Lust with Nancy Pearl (in which she interviews authors)

Nancy Pearl Book Reviews (in which she talks about books in a particular genre or books that relate to one another somehow, or another reading-related topic)

The thing about Nancy Pearl is that she know books inside and out, plus she’s as pleasant as the day is long.

I chose to read this book

The Art of Choosing by Sheena Iyengar

First—and importantly—for a book about psychology, this is gorgeously written. And by gorgeous, I don’t mean lush and over the top; I mean, wonderfully, effortlessly readable—with a conversational tone, but a darn smart conversational tone.

When I reached the end of the book and read the Acknowledgments, I discovered what may be the secret of Iyengar’s wonderful style: she says that her son would ask her what story she had written each day, and she would tell him about the writing she had done that day. She says that this process helped her make the stories more engaging.

(I’m compelled to suggest that all writers of nonfiction convey their narratives to children. The result here is remarkable.)

To describe this book’s contents is to make it sound like a dull reporting of research results. It is so much more. While Iyengar indeed relates the results of various studies that investigated people’s responses to situations in which they were offered some type of choice (or denied choices), she also weaves a narrative around those studies.

Unlike some popular nonfiction books that meander all over the place, The Art of Choosing actually has a narrative thread that holds it together in a cogent way. This is hugely satisfying.

I’m all about having options available, but Iyengar writes that sometimes having a lot of options actually has been shown to result in our making poorer choices. Interesting! Iyengar describes what’s behind that whole phenomenon, and it’s pretty fascinating.

Also: the fact that having lots of options can cause us to feel less happy than if our options were fewer, because we know that we must discard some desirable options because we cannot have it all.

There are some other guidelines here, such as: “We should, therefore, focus first on the dimensions that are easiest to choose from, whether because they offer fewer options or because we already know what we want, and let these choices guide us through the more difficult dimensions.” (p. 213) It’s refreshing to hear that it’s OK to start with the easy stuff and work our way up to the tougher parts.

For anyone who enjoys reading Malcolm Gladwell or the Freakonomics guys, reading this book will be sheer delight. She’s taken it up a notch.

Those daring young men and their flying machine

The Flyers: In Search of Wilbur and Orville Wright by Noah Adams

In this book’s favor:

1. Written by Noah Adams (of NPR), who has a pleasant speaking voice (not that that has anything to do with one’s writing ability, but I get a calming feeling when I see the name Noah Adams)

2. It is about the fathers of powered flight!!

On the other end of the stick: This book sure sounds like it’s one of them travelogues.

And, as stated before, I’m not keen on the travelogues, particularly when they are predicated on a gimmick (a la, I’ve always wanted to do this thing, and so now I’ll do this thing and write about it!!)

So this book was a mixed bag for me.

I’ll admit it was Noah Adams’ name that made me pick it up; when I saw the Adams and Wright names together, I thought, “Here’s my book.”

And I liked that he started the book with a visit to the Wrights’ graves. I think a cemetery visit is always good.

In spite of plenty of aviation reading over the years (from the 1980s on), I confess I’ve neglected the Wright brothers Until Now. Poor fellas. Not only ignored by the likes of me, but then Wilbur went and died all young, and Orville was a spinster his whole life and was meaner than mean to his sister when she deserted him to get married at age 50-something. It was a bit troubled, all that business.

But really, for me, it’s all about the humans and their aeroplanes.

Check out this picture, peoples:

(Photo credit: Library of Congress)

How can you not get all verklempt?

That’s Orville flying the machine and Wilbur standing to the right.

Can anyone name the date and place? Aviation geeks, step forward!*

So here’s the best part of this book: It provides good details about the Wrights’ lives and their flights—to such an extent that I am feeling all sentimental about the wonders of flight. Adams makes the Wrights human and he shows them to be remarkable.

The part I didn’t love was the travelogue part—the interviewing people who work at, or live near, the various Wright sites. I like the biographer to step out of the picture and just give us the guys. But that’s just me. I imagine there are people who would be liking the I-went-here-and-talked-with-this-local-expert approach. Not so much my style, but still this book worked for me overall.

*December 17, 1903, in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina

I love haunted, smart-aleck detectives

Drink the Tea: A Mystery by Thomas Kaufman

An award-winning debut mystery, set in Washington, D.C. How could I not check it out?

And, happily, I liked, liked, liked it.

First, I was reminded a bit of Dennis Lehane, which is always a good thing.

Drink the Tea is a first-person private eye novel, with a conflicted and quick-witted main character—Willis Gidney—whose dreadful childhood scarred and haunts him. His younger years provide a compelling back story, which is nicely woven into the main story line. (Well done, Mr. Kaufman—managing to keep the pace moving briskly along, while also giving us the main character’s background.)

So... the main story line: A jazz musician friend of Willis’s asks him to track down the daughter he never really knew. And very soon, all you-know-what breaks loose, because the daughter—whoever she is—turns out to be wrapped up in some shady business.

The only thing that struck me as weird is that I didn’t have a sense of the age of the narrator until partway through the book, when a year from his childhood was mentioned. I’d’ve thought the narrator was older than he turned out to be. Not sure what that was about. Maybe his old-fashioned first name threw me. (And there’s a whole story behind his name…)

Anyway, by midway through this book, a person really cannot help but adore Willis Gidney. He’s a good one. And I’ll be watching for his next appearance.

(Crap. That photo up there, intended to invoke noir, has a doggone Christmas tree stuck right in front of the Capitol dome. Kind of ruins the menace, don't it?)

Mid-year challenge check-up

The year’s halfway through (how did that happen?!) so I’m taking the pulse of my reading challenges.

And I am happy to report that I am feeling pretty dadgum amazing.

Here’s the progress:

ThemeQuest Reading Challenge:

5/10 books

U.S. Presidents Reading Project:

19/44 books [this is one of those lifelong challenges]

2010 Pub Challenge:

8/10 books

2010 Support Your Local Library Reading Challenge:

66/75 books

2010 Mixology Reading Challenge:

20/10 newly published books

5/10 biographies

9/5 audiobooks

14/5 romance

64/75 total books

Time Travel Reading Challenge:

2/3 books

Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction Reading Challenge:

11/8 books [challenge completed! Yet I read on…]

So I’m feeling good about my progress.

So much so that recently I was heckled—heckled!—by a friend who suggested that I was wimping out by choosing the 75-book level for the Support Your Local Library Reading Challenge. And yes, I do wish I’d chosen the 100-book level, in large part because its button is hella cute:

But when I signed up for that reading challenge back in late 2009, my life did not yet include this:

Oh, yes, it looks like a plain old cabinet, dudn’t it?

But, no, my friends, that cabinet hides this little beauty, fondly known around these parts as “The Labor Saving Device” (which I don’t abbreviate, because “LSD” is not a very nice abbreviation.) It was installed and customized by a complete genius.

Another librarian/reader told me that when her kitchen acquired a dishwasher, it changed her life.

Amen.

And hallelujah!