Nonfiction

American fans who may know little about Horace Rumpole's creator will learn from this dismal life of John Mortimer—who was enormously successful as both a barrister and a writer and is now a frail 83—that many people bear him grudges, not least Lord himself, whose wounded vanity at having been demoted from authorized to unauthorized biographer is evident in every repetitious swipe at his subject. Do we really need four people who knew Mortimer at Harrow to say that he was "dirty" or "unhygienic" as a schoolboy? Lord (James Herriot) also charges his subject with being a hypocrite, a liar, an ingrate, a snob, a philanderer who fathered more than one illegitimate child and a "champagne socialist" whose liberal views on sex and pornography contributed to Britain's moral decline in the 1960s. Most aggrieved perhaps, with some reason, is the late Penelope Mortimer, the great man's troubled first wife and an eminent author in her own right, who portrayed her husband unflatteringly in such novels as The Pumpkin Eater as well as in memoirs. Lord is less partisan in his assessment of Mortimer's literary achievements, but one can only hope that the authorized biography will provide a more nuanced view that relates the life to the work. Photos. (Aug.)

In prose not readily accessible to the average reader, science writer Crelinsten, who has written radio and film documentaries about Einstein, explores how the theory of relativity was greeted by members of the astronomical community. By focusing on astronomers rather than the theoretical physicists more often associated with Einstein, he offers new insights. Crelinsten presents the surprising fact that virtually all astronomers engaged in crafting the empirical tests of relativity for a period of almost two decades had very little understanding of the theoretical physics and mathematics underlying Einstein's principles. Nonetheless, astronomers from around the world spent years chasing solar eclipses in an attempt to gather data, and each held strong opinions about whether or not Einstein's theory was correct. Crelinsten is best when discussing the attacks on Einstein and his theory, demonstrating that some arose from ignorance, some from petty jealousy and some from anti-Semitism. He uses the introduction of the theory of relativity to present a case study of how innovative scientific ideas enter both the scientific community and the consciousness of the general public. Crelinsten provides so much astronomical detail, however, that only true aficionados are likely to remain interested throughout. B&w photos and illus. (Aug.)

All schoolchildren learn that ancient Athens was the birthplace of democracy, forebear of the philosophy of governance that Westerners now almost universally consider the natural right of every human being. But what does our system of protected freedoms, popular elections and checks and balances really share with the public congresses of Kleisthenes and Pericles? In this complement to his previous book, Democracy: The Unfinished Journey (1992), British political theorist Dunn traces the roots of democratic rule, examining the motivations and tactics of its major proponents and detractors while deftly leading his readers through thousands of years of political rhetoric. As much a linguistic and sociological exploration as it is a political history, Dunn's book questions why this word, democracy, has gone from a peculiar concept widely regarded as a failure to a term of ridicule and derision, then to its current status in all languages as an aspirational ideal. Dunn departs ancient Greece for the enlightened radicalism of the American Revolution and the jubilant chaos of the French Revolution in his quest to answer what exactly has given "this very old and much reviled word the stamina and drive to win through in the end." (July)

The Pentagon's fascination with fringe science is old news, writes veteran defense reporter Weinberger in this incisive study, but the Bush administration has pushed it to new levels of wackiness. After reviewing our government's pursuit of antimatter weapons, psychics and telepathy, she focuses on a "nuclear hand grenade" that may cost billions and seems certain to fail. Before the War on Terror and the avalanche of government money for advanced new weapons, few paid attention to physicists who said they could harness the energy of unstable atomic nuclei, or "isomers," through a wildly expensive process involving atomic reactors. But in recent years, a group of fringe scientists aided by defense industry insiders has convinced the Pentagon that America's post-9/11 survival depends on developing an isomer bomb. While proponents compare it to the Manhattan Project, opponents point out that independent researchers have not been able to duplicate the results attained by isomer enthusiasts, and that many assumptions behind the bomb contradict the laws of physics. Though Congress canceled isomer bomb development in 2004, the Department of Energy found $5 million to continue the research. (July 1)

Zinn's newest book (of more than 20 published) collects eight radio interviews conducted with the Boston University history professor emeritus between August 2002 and February 2005 by Barsamian, founder of Alternative Radio, in Boulder, Colo. Barsamian, who is clearly sympathetic to Zinn's radical views on such subjects as the war in Iraq, art and civil disobedience as political tools, Martin Luther King Jr. and the Kennedy brothers, largely poses softball questions. The octogenarian Zinn thrives on them, explaining cogently and forcefully why world peace must predominate, rather than American military might, or how artists challenge established social boundaries. In discussing domestic politics, Zinn continues his decades-long advocacy of pulling up the poor through social engineering rather than failed programs already in place. The book closes with the text of a speech by Zinn, "Against Discouragement," which he presented at Spelman College in 2005, where he had been fired in 1963 because of his crusading for civil rights. Enthusiasts who hang on Zinn's every word will enjoy this slim paperback original; newcomers may be better off starting with his more substantial work. (July)

Former Special Forces sergeant Antenori and writer Halberstadt (War Stories of the Green Berets) grippingly recreate the valor of Antenori's Special Forces A-Team in the battle at Debecka Pass in northern Iraq on April 6, 2003. Antenori's 12-man operational team (call sign: Roughneck Nine-One), along with more than a dozen other Green Berets, fought a major engagement with an Iraqi armored task force on Highway 2, a vital artery for moving troops and supplies. Despite being outmanned and outgunned, the Special Forces closed the highway and repelled an Iraqi counterattack spearheaded by four T-55 tanks and eight armored personnel carriers. The Special Forces suffered no casualties, but dozens of their Kurdish allies were killed or wounded by an errant American air strike. The authors highlight the skill and bravery of the Special Forces without overlooking their foibles and mistakes (or failing to lambaste the pesky, on-the-scene reporters who made their job harder). Though the book's second half speeds along with the battle's details, it's preceded by an overly long, familiar prologue—the selection and training of Special Forces soldiers and pre-deployment preparations. On balance, Antenori's memoir offers a gritty inside look at a Special Forces team at war. (July)

Cosmologists ask many difficult questions and often come up with strange answers. In this engagingly written but difficult book, Vilenkin, a Tufts University physicist, does exactly this, discussing the creation of the universe, its likely demise and the growing belief among cosmologists that there are an infinite number of universes. Vilenkin does an impressive job of presenting the background information necessary for lay readers to understand the ideas behind the big bang and related phenomena. Having set the stage, the author then delves into cutting-edge ideas, many of his own devising. He argues persuasively that, thanks to repulsive gravity, the universe is likely to expand forever. He goes on to posit that our universe is but one of an infinite series, many of them populated by our "clones." Vilenkin is well aware of the implications of this assertion: "countless identical civilizations [to ours] are scattered in the infinite expanse of the cosmos. With humankind reduced to absolute cosmic insignificance, our descent from the center of the world is now complete." Drawing on the work of Stephen Hawking and recent advances in string theory, Vilenkin gives us a great deal to ponder. B&w illus. (July)

A transformative career in dance and the development of an experimental artist are examined in choreographer, dancer and filmmaker Rainer's engrossing memoir. Organized by concepts, such as her burgeoning sexuality and her cultural memories, rather than by strict chronology, the structure makes a difficult childhood seem even more unmoored and the dizzying parade of men she slept with more kaleidoscopic. Rainer doesn't have many kind words for anyone in her early years and is equally hard on herself. A ferocious intelligence combined with years of psychotherapy have made her intensely self-aware, and Rainer exposes her flaws, acknowledging potential objections to her behavior and character. Rainer's position at the epicenter of postmodernism in dance in the early '60s is illuminated through descriptions and photographs of working and playing with fellow Judson Dance Theater pioneers such as Trisha Brown and Steve Paxton, as well as artists like Robert Rauschenberg and Andy Warhol. Particularly fascinating are her descriptions of her intentions in creating certain dances and the struggle between directing dancers and allowing improvisation to color the work. The explorations of the Judson crew, including Rainer, continue to influence contemporary dance, and Rainer's chronicle of her journey as an artist is a winning addition to the literature about this groundbreaking era. (July)

Outdoorsman O'Neill (The Last Giant of Beringia) steers his canoe through the history and topography of the Yukon River, which runs through Canada and Alaska, letting its course carry his witty travelogue. Drawing from legend, interview and observation, he evokes the river's rustic majesty and the spartan dignity of its vestigial towns, briefly fed by the frenzied Gold Rush of the 1890s. His engaging account of the river's history punctuates its backwater charm, pulling readers into a realm of frigid wilderness and frontier stakeouts. He captures the hardiness of its scattered dwellers in vignettes of outmoded customs and bawdy tourist traditions, including the tale of someone chugging an amputated-toe cocktail in the Canadian town of Dawson. Exploring the conflict between nature and society, O'Neill writes of legendary holdouts (such as crusty Dick Cook, who he acknowledges was also a subject of John McPhee) who chafe at federal mandates that threaten their hardscrabble homesteads. O'Neill's meditations on the river branch into epic themes of self-reliance, heroism and humanity. Poetic renderings of creeks, camps and log cabin settlements bestow a refined gloss on rough terrain, reviving the moribund spirit of the "ghost river connecting ghost towns." (June)

Knighton, who teaches at Capilano College in Vancouver, started going blind in his teens, and in this hilarious and unsentimental yet moving memoir, he tells what it was like to lose his eyesight. He was born in the early 1970s, grew up in British Columbia and by 1987 was showing signs of poor vision. He began losing his sight early enough that the time frames of his coming-of-age and his coming-of-blindness overlap. Milestones such as his first driving experiences and his first relationships with girls, which would have been ordinary for other teenagers, were anything but for him. As he moved into adulthood, he also moved further into sightlessness, yet he turns the story into something so bracing that it reads like a travelogue—you can't wait to know where he's going next, whether it's to attend college in Vancouver, teach English in South Korea or get married. Wit can be a weapon, but can also be a kind of walking stick; being so gifted clearly guided Knighton long before anything began to happen to his eyes. Luckily for his readers, he was also gifted with a different kind of care and clear-sightedness, never stumbling into the maudlin. His book is an invitation to take a journey that no reader should refuse, to see life through another lens. (June)

In this engaging memoir, Kahn (The Boys of Summer) looks back at baseball and much more as he presents his episodic reminiscences as free-form essays arranged loosely around iconic figures from his past. In a profile of New York Herald Tribune sports editor R. Stanley Woodward, entitled "The Coach," Kahn elegizes the great postwar newsroom culture of the paper, where he learned to structure a narrative and slip in Milton references. He probes the epochal subject of racism in baseball through homages to integrationist hero Jackie Robinson and his teammate Pee Wee Reese, a white Southerner who literally embraced him. He evokes the 1960s in a kaleidoscopic essay that ranges from a thumbnail sketch of a washed-up Mickey Rooney to impressions of the Goldwater and McCarthy presidential campaigns. A regretful piece on his son's suicide recalls the crazy therapeutic culture of the "Me" decade, while getting off a few terse words about his ex-wife. Kahn has a graceful, personal style, full of deftly evoked color and characters, with a bit of the newspaperman's hard-bitten swagger and a two-fisted liberalism one doesn't see much anymore. Photos not seen by PW. (June)

The British antihero of this moving biography started with teenage glue-sniffing, petty thievery and gang brawls, then graduated to heroin and major thievery. He endured prison stints and led a "medieval existence" on the streets, finally emerging into triumphant semistability as an "ex-homeless, ex-junkie psychopath" with only occasional episodes of violence and suicidal impulses. In Cambridge, England, Masters, an advocate for the homeless, befriended Stuart—someone for whom "cause and effect are not connected in the usual way"—and found him at times obnoxious and repellent, but also funny and honest. Masters notes bad genes and childhood sexual molestation, and critiques "the System" of British welfare and criminal justice institutions that help with one hand and brutalize with the other, but he doesn't reduce Stuart's intractable problems to simple dysfunction or societal neglect. By eschewing easy answers (the easy answers—don't drink, don't use, don't steal, don't play with knives—are precisely the hardest for Stuart), he accords full humanity to Stuart's stumbling efforts to grapple with his demons. Hilarious and clear-eyed, the author's superbly drawn portrait of Stuart is an unforgettable literary evocation and a small masterpiece of moral empathy and imagination. Photos. (June 6)

In 1997 the world was surprised to learn that scientists had cloned the first mammal, a sheep named Dolly. The lead scientist for the project, carried out at the Roslin Institute in Scotland, was Ian Wilmut, who in this engrossing book tells how he and his colleagues made their breakthrough. Many people were excited about the potential medical advances that cloning presented; others were convinced it was a step toward eugenics and human cloning. Wilmut, assisted by Highfield, science editor of Britain's Daily Telegraph, argues passionately that cloning will revolutionize medicine and—perhaps a little too optimistically after the South Korean cloning scandal—that scientists can be relied on to behave. He explains why a blastocyst, the 200 cells present a few days after fertilization, is not an embryo and should be permitted in medical research. But Wilmut opposes the use of genetic enhancement to create "designer babies." The author is a bit defensive at times, but he explains his positions clearly so readers on both sides of this contentious issue will be able to re-examine and clarify their own convictions. 20 b&w illus. (June 12)

Wildlife biologist Chadwick's fascination with whales began when he found himself floating nose to nose with an inquisitive humpback off the coast of Maui. Since that heady experience, he has traveled the seas with whale researchers, becoming ever more enchanted with these great mammals. In this compelling book, he records what he has learned and observed of five whale species, including the humpback, described by Melville as "the most gamesome and light-hearted of all the whales"; the bottlenose, an exceptionally intelligent whale that can dive to great depths; and the orca, misnamed the "killer" whale, a very social whale that does not attack humans. As he observes the whales' habits and listens to the sounds they use to communicate with each other, Chadwick (The Fate of the Elephant) struggles to remain objective. But this is difficult. Whales have such a complex assortment of lifestyles, cultures and social relationships, it's hard to avoid anthropomorphizing them, especially since they seem to be as curious about humans as humans are about them. The author's enthusiasm for these extraordinary creatures effectively draws the reader into the whales' underwater environment and makes a powerful case for increased efforts to preserve that environment. Six b&w illus. (June)

After a generation out of the spotlight, coal has reasserted its centrality: the United States "burn[s] more than a billion tons" per year, and since 9/11 and the Iraq war, independence from foreign oil has become positively patriotic. Rolling Stone contributing editor Goodell's last book, the bestselling Our Story, was about a mine accident, which clearly made a deep impression on him. Our reliance on coal—the unspoken foundation of our "information" economy—has, Goodell says, led to an "empire of denial" that blocks us from the investments necessary to find alternative energy sources that could eventually save us from fossil fuel. Goodell's description of the mining-related deaths, the widespread health consequences of burning coal and the impact on our planet's increasingly fragile ecosystem make for compelling reading, but such commonplace facts are not what lift this book out of the ordinary. That distinction belongs to Goodell's fieldwork, which takes him to Atlanta, West Virginia, Wyoming, China and beyond—though he also has a fine grasp of the less tangible niceties of the industry. Goodell understands how mines, corporate boardrooms, commodity markets and legislative chambers interrelate to induce a national inertia. Goodell has a talent for pithy argument—and the book fairly crackles with informed conviction. (June 8)

This provocative and frightening look at the synthetic chemicals used by the processed foods, pharmaceutical and chemical industries delivers an excellent, up-to-date summary of "what is really in our food, water, vitamins, prescription drugs, childhood vaccines, cosmetics, and in our homes." Former Wall Street Journal investigative journalist Fitzgerald (Mugged by the State) takes aim at the belief that "lab-created synthetics are as benign as—and more effective than—naturally occurring foods and medicines." The "hundred-year lie" dates from 1906, the year Congress enacted the Pure Food and Drug Act. Utilizing a range of articles from science journals and government reports, along with interviews with scientists and environmentalists, Fitzgerald looks at synthetic chemicals—from artificial sweeteners to antidepressants—that are diminishing our health. Throughout, Fitzgerald explodes various myths such as that one right dose of a particular drug works for everyone and that all food additives have been tested for safety. Still, Fitzgerald's faith in Eastern and other natural healing processes will not convince everyone. The author concludes with practical steps for "choosing a diet of pure foods and a lifestyle free of synthetics." (June)

In this impassioned but hard-to-swallow treatise, Dworkin, an M.D. and senior fellow at the Hudson Institute, laments the rise among primary care physicians of the "ideology" that "unhappiness [is] a disease" to be treated with "external cures" from psychotropic drugs to "obsessive" exercise. This view, he argues, has led doctors to push antidepressants onto patients at an explosive rate. Dworkin argues that primary care doctors initiated and conquered a turf war with psychiatrists in which antidepressants are their main source of power. The author shows how placebo science, the desire for happy patients and a desire for more personal doctoring led to a rise in dubiously beneficial alternative health practices. He belittles the 1980s buzzword "stress" with its accompanying surge of mind-body activities and denigrates the moral deficit he perceives to be underlying a widespread obsession with fitness culture. He also argues that "many Americans are only superficially religious, outwardly professing belief in God while crossing over to medicine for help when life grows really difficult." Dworkin's thesis is provocative but its sweeping claims, heavy reliance on the term "ideology" to describe doctors' motivations and his confrontational approach undermine the book's power to persuade. (June)

This unique hybrid of memoir and science writing offers a remarkably intimate portrait of a British neuroscientist confronted with the tangible experience of modern science. McKernan was working for a major pharmaceutical company when her father became ill with a mysterious infection, and she repeatedly draws on her scientific training as she describes her father's illness and eventual death, taking refuge in the knowledge of what biology and neuroscience can now explain while wrestling with the questions still left unanswered. As a memoirist, McKernan holds nothing back, sharing her experiences both as a devoted daughter and as a scientist; the result is hugely compelling, nimbly shifting back and forth from micro to macro (she juxtaposes, for instance, a biological description of cell necrosis with the emotional consequences of watching a loved one slip away day by day). A reader will turn the last page with a clear sense of what modern science can tell us about life, death and consciousness, but the knowledge almost seems incidental; what sticks most is the nuanced and wrenchingly real experience of loss that no amount of scientific knowledge can buffer. (June)

A modern-day German magically transported back 250 years would barely recognize his own country, says Blackbourn, a professor of history at Harvard. Where today manicured fields, straight canals and windmills dominate, then the landscape was "[d]ark and waterlogged, filled with snaking channels half-hidden by overhanging lianas" and inhabited by mosquitoes, frogs, wild boar and wolves. Blackbourn investigates this remarkable feat of aquaforming as Germans sought to manacle nature by means of mammoth hydrological projects, from building dams to "remaking" the Rhine. The simple act of draining a marsh, Blackbourn points out, can be interpreted in multiple ways. Liberals saw in human mastery of the waters a shining instance of scientific rationalism—which could be applied to settling national conflicts. Conservatives thought that reclaiming marshland would provide Frederick the Great's regiments with an unimpeded line of march to the battlefront. The Nazis, too, perceived land reclamation as a duty for a "people without space." More recently, Greens have highlighted the downsides of water engineering (loss of biodiversity, pollution, overconsumption) even as its supporters trumpet its successes (free commerce, the end of malaria, control of flooding). The unique framing of Blackbourn's interpretation of German history and the lavish illustrations make this an engrossing read. (June)

At the outset of this "book of journeys," Wright (God's Soldiers) declares, "Throughout history, ambassadors would be in the vanguard of cultural discovery." Presenting intricate ambassadorial narratives in the context of their age's geopolitical tensions, Wright shows how intrepid ambassadors in the ancient world traveled epic distances to foster trade, seek out alliances or discipline rivals. Wright's sources are historical—a survey of 302 B.C Indian life by Macedonian ambassador Megathenes and the chronicles of Han dynasty ambassador Chang Ch'ien, who traveled as far as Kazakhstan—and literary: he explores theories of diplomacy through the so-called "Sanskrit Machiavelli" Kautilya's treatise Arthasastra and the medieval Song of Roland, celebrating the diplomatic acumen of Charlemagne. Complex accounts of Crusade-era political maneuvers and growing rifts in the Christian commonwealth segue into discussion of the 15th-century rise of statecraft and of 16th-century Protestant-Catholic tensions. He also describes diplomatic faux pas such as the British envoy Sir Henry Wooten's flounderings in the 17th-century Catholic bastion of Venice. Illuminating the practice of diplomatic immunity, the gradual formalization of the institution of global diplomacy and the role of maverick diplomats, Wright carefully balances general developments in the scope of ambassadorial duties with colorful and exemplary tales of particular instances. (June)

Real poker players will cringe at this slim—literally and figuratively—account of one man's run at the World Series of Poker's (WSOP) main event: the No-Limit Hold'em tournament held annually in Las Vegas (buy-in: $10,000). The author, formerly senior editor at independent publisher MacAdam/ Cage, acknowledges that he's not one of the game's luminaries, but his play, at least to the extent described here, is laughably bad. And the book is not much better. The conceit is that he'll write a funny story chronicling his preparation for and participation in the tournament (and use his advance to pay his $10,000 entry fee), but the tone is more sarcastic than genuinely humorous. Even worse, there isn't much drama; the outcome of his quest—losing in a field of more than 5,600—is inevitable. The account of the tournament occupies just 16 pages; the rest is preamble. While Walsh does capture the essence of the WSOP dream—that an amateur can beat the pros—he never distills any of his experience into wisdom that's helpful in poker or in life. (June)

Though "memory piano" sounds like a phrase from Simic's own poetry, it comes from the title of one of the essay-reviews from the New York Review of Books that form the bulk of this collection of mainly critical pieces on poetry in both America and the former eastern bloc. Simic's background as an immigrant from the former Yugoslavia and a Pulitzer Prize–winning poet puts him in a rare position to appreciate both the virtuosity of English-language poets such as Robinson Jeffers, W.S. Merwin and Donald Justice and the tragic exiles of Marina Tsvetaeva and W.G. Sebald. While Simic is an academic (professor of English at the University of New Hampshire), he sticks to the lesson he cites from the Paris Review's eclectic retrospective anthology: "keep the literary scholars out and stick to the original writing." Throughout, his biographic summaries smoothly shift to insightful, approachable literary characterizations and well-chosen excerpts from the books under consideration. Interspersed among these are briefer personal essays and memoir vignettes with idiosyncratic charm. Less original is an account of a Deep South trip just before George W. Bush's re-election, in which a feeling of disconnection from the religiously parochial Red States is palpable. (June)

This tragicomic exposé is a roller-coaster ride through the world of justice in the South Bronx. Former trial chief of the Bronx Defenders, Feige takes us through a typically harrowing day as a public defender, dealing with arbitrary judges and clients who are often victims of the judicial system. By a combination of skill and stealth, Feige negotiates the best deal he can get for his clients. In Feige's account, the power of judges—many of whom, he says, are political hacks—triumphs over almost everything else. One judge demanded that all Jews be removed from jury selection because they wouldn't be able to be present on Yom Kippur. To keep up with 75–100 cases at a time. Feige "reinvents" the rules so he can race from one court building to another. We follow the fortunes of dozens of cases, from the ridiculous (Michael, jailed for simply walking a friend's unvaccinated dog) to the tragic ( Jaron, charged with stabbing his cousin). But it's the failure of the system to free the innocent that haunts the author. In this dramatic first book, Feige skillfully shares his wisdom and his humanity and sheds light on a justice system that too often works irrationally. (June 3)

The disturbing 2004 Missouri murder of Bobbie Jo Stinnett, eight months pregnant, whose unborn baby was ripped from her womb by her alleged killer, Lisa Montgomery, is the subject of Phelps's undistinguished latest true-crime book. Having lied about a nonexistent pregnancy, Montgomery deliberately planned the crime, selecting her victim after meeting her through their mutual involvement in breeding rat terriers. Immediately after the savage killing, Montgomery presented the newborn girl as her own to friends and family, most of whom rapidly put aside the suspicious circumstances, which included the new mother's claim that she had been discharged only hours after the delivery. Once an alert was issued for the missing baby, it was only a matter of time before the police put the pieces together. Montgomery's trial is due to begin in late 2006. In the hands of a writer such as Ann Rule, this grim tale could have served as a meaningful entry point into the killer's psyche, but Phelps (Perfect Poison) overwrites and fails to offer much insight. (June)

Names such as Freedom's Journal, Mattachine Review and RAIN may have little resonance today, but Ostertag's succinct, well-paced study, growing out of a report commissioned by the Independent Press Association, reveals the "crucial and neglected" role they and other "social movement" journals have played, and still do, in bringing about social change. Ostertag focuses, thematically rather than chronologically, on five movements (abolition, women's suffrage, gay and lesbian liberation, Vietnam antiwar, environment). In treating the abolitionist and women's suffrage movements, he brings together the conventionally divided "story of the early 'black press' and that of the predominantly white 'abolitionist press.' " In treating an underground GI press, Ostertag describes how the antiwar movement in the military ("almost entirely clandestine [with] almost no identifiable organizations") found its voice. Ostertag shows how advances in printing technology (e.g., for the Whole Earth Catalog, "one of the most startlingly innovative journals in the history of publishing in America") and the gradual shift "from the sparse, privately owned media environment of the nineteenth century to the corporate media saturation of the present" alter the shape of the independent journal, but not the visionary significance of the "accidental" journalists motivated by "a sense of social justice." (June)

Journalist and thriller writer Nadelson tells the life story of Dean Reed, "the Johnny Cash of Communism," and of her own investigation into Reed's life, in a book that, while always fascinating, has trouble walking the line between memoir and biography. The details—of how Colorado-born Reed lived and sang in South America and the eastern bloc and became a star of Elvis-like proportions there—are relayed in a clear and often captivating manner. When the author opines on her personal journey to discover and understand Reed, the narrative is often awkward ("my metaphors collided and crashed: none of them any good") and the findings are sometimes naïve ("In the end, the Soviets had not wanted to nuke us; they just wanted to listen to our music"). As "a kind of travel book through a now half-lost time and place"—the time being the '60s, the place being the U.S.S.R.—the book is absorbing. And though there are speed bumps (weak images and an oversimplification of complex political events), as the mysteries of Reed's suspicious death begin to unfold toward the end, the author's strengths become apparent, making Reed all the more exciting. (June)

This first-person account of a young woman's seduction by Islamist extremism also offers an intimate look at the Algerian civil war. Journalist Gacemi interviewed "Nadia" (a pseudonym) in 1997 in Algiers, where she came seeking help at an organization for needy women. As a teenager in a poor village, Nadia fell in love with Ahmed, a charismatic hoodlum. Her persistence in sneaking out to meet him made her parents send her away to live with her uncles. Two years later, when her father finally accepted Ahmed's marriage offer, Nadia returned home expecting her dreams to be realized. Since she'd last seen him, however, Ahmed had joined the Armed Islamist Group, or GIA—a terrorist group then at the height of its power in the town. Nadia's dream became a nightmare, as she found herself cook and slave to her husband's "brothers." Yet the status of being the wife of a terrorist leader was addictive, and she accepted enough of what Ahmed told her about the GIA's political vision that she even believed the beatings she received from him were legitimate. Gacemi's book received a lot of attention in France. Since Americans are less knowledgeable about Algeria, it will probably get less here—which is unfortunate, since her account of how a whole community can be seduced by terrorists is frightening and invaluable. (June)

What's most surprising about this exposé of the Chinese government's brutal treatment of the peasantry is not that it was banned in China, but that it got past the censors in the first place. The authors—a husband and wife team who have received major awards—recount how, in the poor province of Anhui, greedy local officials impose illegal taxes on the already impoverished peasantry and cover their tracks through double-bookkeeping. Outraged peasants risk their freedom and sometimes their lives by complaining up the command chain or making the long and costly trip to Beijing, but for the most part the central government's proclamations against excessive taxation don't effectively filter back to the local level. The authors criticize the central government for its own heavy taxation and underrepresentation of the peasantry, though in much more measured tones than they fault the local officials. "Could it be that our system itself is a toxic pool and whoever enters is poisoned by it?" they ask. As Westerners look toward China as the world's next superpower, this book is a reminder that the country's 900 million peasants often get lost in the glitter of Shanghai's Tiffany's. (June)

In this critical look at Kennedy's handling of the civil rights struggle, Bryant, a former BBC Washington correspondent, provides a riveting but flawed read. From Kennedy's first campaign for Congress, when he targeted black voters, to his last days wooing Southern moderates in Texas, this narrowly focused book depicts Kennedy as a "minimalist" whose "sometimes cynical, sometimes sincere" manipulation of black opinion gave him a false sense of accomplishment. It shows how Kennedy swerved from rapprochement with segregationist Democrats during his failed bid for the vice-presidency in 1956 to the liberal vanguard during his run for president. Bryant claims that until halfway through his presidency, Kennedy viewed the race problem with "cool detachment," worrying mainly that the Soviet Union would cast the U.S. as weak on human rights. His taste for "piecemeal reform" might have worked with the wider public, Bryant argues, but it emboldened both white and black militants, and his call for legislation to speed up school desegregation came too late. By the time he was assassinated, Kennedy had "abdicated his responsibility to lead the great social revolution of his age," Bryant asserts. While that may be true, this well-written book fails to consider the immense distractions of the other historic struggle that Kennedy faced: the Cold War, at its height. (June)

In the early morning of March 9, 1916, Pancho Villa launched an attack on Columbus, N.Mex., that cost the lives of 18 American civilians and soldiers. The American government responded by dispatching troops, led by Gen. John Pershing, into Mexico in pursuit of Villa, while tensions continued to escalate between the two countries, bringing them to the point of war. Despite its title, this book is more concerned with the Columbus attack itself—as well as its root causes and general aftermath—than it is with Pershing's hunt for the perpetrator. A Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist, Welsome approaches her subject with a novelistic eye for character and minutiae, devoting as much care to describing Villa's eyes as she does to his military philosophy. These digressive flourishes lend a raw humanism to her account of the attack, which plays as a series of horrifying vignettes and serves as the book's centerpiece. In the pages that follow, Welsome's anecdotal style occasionally saps the text's momentum. Overall, the vivid attention to detail compensates for whatever the narrative lacks in focus or efficiency. (June 2)

Mauboussin is not your average Wall Street equity analyst, writing investment recommendations whose topical interest wanes a few days after the report is issued. His strategy reports begin with scientific findings from diverse fields, then show why an investor should care. This book is a collection of 30 short reports, revised and updated, covering animal behavior ("Guppy Love: The Role of Imitation in Markets"), psychology ("Why Zebras Don't Get Ulcers"), philosophy of science ("The Janitor's Dream: Why Listening to Individuals Can be Hazardous to Your Wealth") and other fields. Each essay describes a fascinating scientific finding, then develops and applies it to personal investing. "Survival of the Fittest," for example, begins by discussing how Tiger Woods improved his golf swing, introduces the concept of fitness landscapes from evolutionary biology, then explains why investors in commodity-producing companies should like strong centralized management, while technology-stock buyers should prefer flexible organizations with lots of disruptive new ideas. The book is breezy and well written, but not dumbed down, and provides extensive references. It can be read for entertainment as popular science or to broaden your investment thinking. However, it suffers from a common problem among compiled essays: despite the revisions, some material is out of date and other material is repeated. (June)

Courtney, a realtor with 26 years of experience and a weekly columnist for the Nashville City Paper, offers an easy-to-read reality check for anyone contemplating a real estate transaction. In addition to buyers and sellers, this includes real estate agents who must manage their clients' expectations and counteract the "lying" of all the parties involved. Where buyers are concerned, he argues that lying to a realtor about such issues as how much you like a prospective house is self-defeating. Sellers, meanwhile, tend to be more delusional than untruthful about the attractiveness and value of their property. Courtney's chatty portrayal of both sides, along with the biases of their respective agents, provides a 360-degree view on topics ranging from open houses to credit scoring. While fairly evenhanded in his swipes at buyers and sellers, Courtney tends to portray realtors as superheroes who are overworked, very patient and only slightly prone to misstatements. In addition to dishing on the realities of residential transactions, Courtney is also realistic about foreclosures and flipping properties. Applying an insider's insights, he deflates the giddy fantasy of instant profit promised by so many other real estate books. (June)

Ruggero retraces the course of the storied 82nd Airborne Division as it jumped into occupied France on the night before June 6, 1944, in this vivid and often intimate account. Focusing on "those crucial first three days in France," he portrays the chaotic, often frantic fight, led by Maj. Gen. Matt Ridgway and Brig. Gen. Jim Gavin, to secure the critical roads and bridges leading to Utah Beach in order to prevent a German counterattack. Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower knew the dangers inherent in putting lightly armed paratroopers behind enemy lines—casualties were projected at 70%—but approved the operation since he believed the paratroopers were crucial to the assault. Despite missed drop zones, scattered units, lost equipment and fierce German resistance, the 82nd pulled together ad hoc units and proceeded to accomplish its mission with skill and uncommon valor. Relying on memoirs, histories and especially interviews with campaign veterans, Ruggero, a former infantry officer, draws on his skills as a novelist (The Academy) and historian (Combat Jump) to deliver a moving portrait of the service and sacrifices of the U.S. Army's first airborne division. (June 1)

If there were nothing more to Carroll's book than its chronicling of the U.S. military's amassing of power and influence from WWII to the present, it would still be valuable history. But the National Book Award winner (An American Requiem) makes the story something else altogether. "The lifetime of the Pentagon is my lifetime," he asserts, noting that the building had its dedication ceremony the week he was born; he also grew up playing in its maze-like corridors while his father worked as a high-ranking air force general. The nuclear dread that dominated the Cold War era thus plays out as personal and family drama, turning the book into "[my] long-delayed conversation with [my] father." It's strongest in its first half, where the development of atomic power and the turmoil of the Vietnam era hold the greatest personal significance for Carroll; later sections on the Reagan and Clinton eras are informative but less intimate. Carroll's approach can be poetic—he makes much, for example, of the coincidence that the Pentagon groundbreaking took place on September 11, 1941—but the emotional weight he brings to a Chomsky-like critique of American militarism results in an aggressively compelling history. Photos. (May 16)

This stimulating manifesto calls for a liberalism that battles Islamist totalitarianism as forthrightly as Cold War liberals opposed Communist totalitarianism. Former New Republic editor Beinart assails both an anti-imperialist left that rejects the exercise of U.S. power and the Bush administration's assumption of America's moral infallibility. America shouldn't shrink from fighting terrorism, despite civilian casualties and moral compromises, he contends, but its antitotalitarian agenda must be restrained by world opinion, international institutions and liberal self-doubt, while bolstered by economic development aid abroad and economic equality at home. Beinart offers an incisive historical account of the conflicts straining postwar liberalism and of the contradictions, hubris and incompetence of Bush's actions. He's sketchier on what a liberal war on terror entails—perhaps a cross between Clinton's Balkan humanitarian interventions and the Afghanistan operation, with U.S. forces descending on Muslim backwaters to destroy jihadists and build nations. The tragic conundrum of a fighting liberalism that avoids enmeshment in a Vietnam or Iraq (the author now repudiates his early support of the Iraq war) is never adequately addressed. Still, Beinart's provocative analysis could stir much-needed debate on the direction of liberal foreign policy. (May 30)

During the last five years, the struggles of Bolivia's indigenous community against government corruption and globalization have garnered unprecedented visibility for the nation around the world. As an aid worker living in Bolivia, Powers did not just witness the change; he was immersed in the action, forced to juggle the country's internal conflict with his environmental organization's mission of saving the rain forest. By "thinking locally and acting globally," he forges a delicate partnership with Indians and multinational energy corporations to designate a swath of the Amazon forest for absorbing greenhouse gases. While matters of politics and the environment provide the framework for the book, much of the story is focused on the friendships he builds through genuine curiosity and emotion as he attempts to truly understand the needs of the people around him. What results is a deeply personal and informative chronicle of Powers's ambitions, the Indians' ambitions and perhaps most importantly in a country as physically diverse and dramatic as Bolivia, nature's ambitions. Although more background on Bolivia would have been helpful, the book succeeds in using the country's recent history to reveal how the worldwide battle for increased economic equality and environmental conservation operates locally. (May)

Meyer sets out to integrate the war's discrete elements into a single work of popular history and delivers a worthy counterpoint to Hew Strachan's magisterial three-volume scholarly project, The First World War. A journalist and author (Executive Blues), Meyer doesn't offer original synthesis or analysis, but he does bring a clear, economical style to the war's beginnings; the gridlock produced by the successes and failures of both sides; the divided military and political counsels that hobbled efforts at resolving operational and diplomatic stalemates; and above all the constant carnage, on a scale that staggers the imagination. Meyer provides brief, useful background on subjects from the Armenian genocide to the Alsace-Lorraine question—topics he considers crucial to an understanding of the war, but too cursorily explained in most popular histories. Correspondingly, he blends "foreground, background, and sidelights" to highlight the complex interactions of apparently unconnected events behind the four-year catastrophic war that destroyed a world and defined a century. Constructing a readable, coherent text in that format is a demanding challenge, accomplished with brio. (May 30)

Freelance journalist Boss performs a real service by putting some of America's financial hangups on trial, charging that "the money taboo"—our good-manners reluctance to discuss what we earn and spend—is "destructive nonsense" that leads to debt and despair. Boss argues that envy ("the only vice warned against in both the Ten Commandments and the Seven Deadly Sins") can be good for the economy, but our drive to keep up with our neighbors can be unhealthy. In five case studies, she shows the consequences of maintaining appearances when we can't afford it; the highlight is a chapter in which Boss lives a fantasy by interrogating her seemingly well-off next-door neighbors and getting the real scoop on their savings, income and credit card bills. The scope of the author's reporting is a bit limited—except for one billionaire, her subjects aren't especially socioeconomically diverse—and we never learn whether non-U.S. cultures suffer the same pangs of envy. Worse, her soft concluding chapter tacks toward self-help, offering counsel that's surprisingly platitudinous ("The universe will provide"). Even so, Boss's case for candor is valuable. (May)

In this dense but well-written work, veteran journalist Goldman examines the cultural, political and violent roots of Bob Marley's classic record Exodus. Goldman is undeniably as intrepid and insightful as music journalists come—and this effort clearly required every ounce of her talent. In setting the stage for what would become Marley's masterpiece, she reached beyond the Exodus sessions themselves into the early history of Marley and the Wailers, into the hornet's nest of Jamaican politics and the island's international history and African history, as well as the mystical, often contradictory, tenets of Rastafarianism. It is all necessary background for what made Marley both the searing performer he was and the iconic figure he would become—a fame that would nearly kill him. Just days before a planned free concert in 1976, Marley, his wife, Rita, and Don Taylor were wounded by gunmen, forcing Marley to flee to London, where Exodus was recorded. This is no pop music hagiography but a brimming, tightly constructed examination not just of Marley's life and music but of human nature itself and the struggle for freedom. The more casual fans of Marley may not follow; those who do will see deeper into the man and his music than ever before. (May)

When Abrams talks about humans flying, he is referring more to Icarus than to airplanes. From ancient myths through China "sometime in the sixth century A.D." to present-day skydivers, Abrams chronicles the men and their various models of wings that have taken to the air in hope of flying like a bird. The tales of flight range from the silly and mysterious to the inspiring and unbelievable. Abrams's brief biographies are deep enough to convey how serious these birdmen take the notion of flight, but lighthearted enough to capture the carefree way most of these sky flyers face possible death. For instance, Abrams isn't afraid to paraphrase Shakespeare in describing one would-be flyer who also happened to be an English king thus: "the wind did not crack its cheeks quite enough to keep the sovereign aloft—'twas his neck that cracked instead." Abrams's witty touch is a saving grace considering that many of these daredevils' stories follow a similar arc: as Abrams notes, an exceptionally high percentage of successful and would-be birdmen are, for some unexplained reason, either orphans or from the state of Michigan. B&w photos. (May)

Despite an introduction touting Parisian gastronomy and its two defining styles (cuisine savante and cuisine bourgeoise), there's little evidence of such fare in these pages. Rather, the authors of this illustrated volume dote on décor, which is, admittedly, magnificent in most cases. Examples of art nouveau and art deco mingle with illustrations of contemporary design and a "post-historic" style that mixes old and new, as Rival and Sarramon, who coauthored the more scintillating Gourmet Shops of Paris, showcase more than 100 dining establishments in the City of Lights. The scenes are no doubt beautiful: a glimmering chandelier with several hundred glass drops illuminates a room at the restaurant at the Plaza Athénée; the quintessentially French bistro L'Ami Louis looks like a set straight out of Gigi; art deco fabulousness infuses La Coupole, with the work of Fernand Léger and others decorating the pillars in the dining room. Yet for all the photographs' attractiveness, they feel oddly hollow: patrons are scant, bustling waiters nonexistent. Ample text accompanies the images, giving a crash course in Parisian history seen through its restaurants. Design aficionados will eat this up; foodies, meanwhile, will require more sustenance. 180 color photos. (May)

Japanese cooking is no longer considered an exotic cuisine, available only in big cities with large Asian popula-

tions. Today, many of us can buy ready-made sushi at our local supermarkets along with wasabi-covered peas and frozen edamame. What are not so familiar to us are the traditional tools used to prepare authentic Japanese dishes. Klippensteen, a freelance writer living in Japan, fills this void with a beautiful guide to Japanese cooking utensils. Enamored with the organic quality of these handmade instruments, she considers them works of art. Vibrant photos by Konishi dominate the book and reinforce this belief. Not surprisingly, Klippensteen pays particular attention to Japanese knives: their history, specific functions, and production. Along the way, she explores the less familiar, such as the versatile suribachi (mortar) and the oroshigane (wasabi grater). Kuminabe—stackable, handle-less metal cooking pots—double as measuring cups; the okama, precursor to the electric rice cooker, is made of heavy cast iron to retain heat and make fluffy rice. From the recognizable, such as the makisu sushi mat, to the unusual, such as the oni oroshi, used to grate daikon radish, Klippensteen provides an enjoyable and informative journey through the Japanese kitchen. (June)

Curtis, author of Santa Fe School of Cooking Cookbook and founder of the school, teams with daughter Nicole in this instructive and appetizing look at New Mexican cuisine. Drawing on recipes from the school, the pair pay proper homage to the chili, which features prominently in most recipes. They provide a list of their favorite types of chilis, introducing readers to the spicy, orange aji amarillo; the woodsy, dark red cascabel; and the sweet, smoked monta. Recipes for rice and salsa abound, but poultry, seafood, beef and pork dishes are also prevalent. Recipes range from classics, like the Spanish Tortilla, to the unusual, such as Stuffed Squash Blossoms with Fresh Tomato Sauce. New Mexican twists add flair to mundane dishes such as Southwestern Caesar Salad, which includes red chile croutons, and Dixon Apple Pie Tamales. The authors also offer helpful techniques for assembling tamales, making sopaipillas (light, fluffy fried dough) and working with nopales (cactus paddles). Throughout, they explore related topics such as "wildcrafting," New Mexican wines and Mexican vanilla. Particularly useful is the section listing sources for unusual and hard-to-find southwestern ingredients. Color photos. (May)

Grillmaster Raichlen (The Barbecue Bible; etc.) believes "[t]he rib is surely the most perfect morsel of meat known to man. Most of the world's great food cultures back me on this." To wit, he points to the gastronomy of Argentina, Brazil, Italy, China, Korea and, of course, America. Yet many of the people who attend Raichlen's Barbecue University tell him the thought of cooking ribs intimidates them. While the task isn't complicated, Raichlen admits, a solid grasp of technique, tradition, lore and science can help anyone prepare "the perfect bones." In his casual, friendly manner, Raichlen takes readers through the ins and outs of ribs, with anatomy lessons explaining the difference between various cuts of ribs (like baby backs and rib tips) and instructions on trimming and peeling; seasoning or marinating; and mopping and saucing. He covers direct grilling, smoke-roasting, smoking and spit-roasting (and their variations), with advice on which kinds of ribs are best suited to each method. After an overview of tools and accessories, it's on to the 75 recipes in all their carnivorous glory. From First-Timer's Ribs ("the foolproof recipe that gives you competition-quality bones every time") to Grandpa's Barbecued Pastramied Short Ribs, Raichlen's got ribs—as well as all the necessary sides and sauces—covered. (Apr. 24)

Coulter sets out to provide readers with "a sampler for heirloom seeds" to learn about and grow. Each of her four chapters focuses on a single season, with an informative essay on its tasks and pleasures and descriptions of heirloom garden plants, including an overview, recommended varieties and helpful growing tips. While the listings are far from exhaustive, they include a wide enough range of edible and ornamental plants to populate a large and varied garden. They also provide well-researched, lively descriptions, including fascinating facts about common plants and their uses throughout history. For example, readers will be delighted to learn that the green paint used to illustrate medieval manuscripts was made from spinach, and that carbon dating has placed the pea as far back as 9750 B.C. This makes Coulter's book an ideal armchair companion to seed catalogues—an extremely popular genre in their own right. Coulter's organization does violate some conventions: vegetables are intermingled with flowers, and annuals are not clearly distinguished from perennials. Still, her stylish, interesting text, an exhaustive listing of sources for heirloom seeds and numerous color and b&w illustrations make this a welcome addition to every gardener's bookshelf. (June)

According to the EPA, "the air in the average American home is between two and ten times more polluted than the air just outside the threshold." Sandbeck, a onetime housecleaner and roofer, explains why a homemaker must avoid toxins and pesticides if the home is to maintain a balanced, healthy ecosystem. The first chapter—touting the benefits of tidying up and getting organized—is tedious, but the book hits its groove in a chapter on "Organic Cleaning." Here, readers learn that all too often the very products we trust to keep our homes clean contain toxins and antimicrobials that kill beneficial organisms. Sandbeck touches on a wide array of housekeeping issues, sometimes almost straying dangerously off-topic. From preventing mold and mildew and controlling garden pests, to computer care and avoiding electrical fires, Sandbeck doles out knowledge with an easy-to-digest blend of authority and humor. (May)

Aging boomers eager for answers to health-care questions couldn't ask for a better guide to the best treatments than Schneider, a practicing clinician and dean emeritus of USC's Andrus Gerontology Center. Evaluating the latest medical research on topics ranging from arthritis, depression, menopause and male libido to heart disease, brain function and cancer, Schneider (The Longevity Quotient) outlines his recommendations for a combination of conventional and alternative treatments. Though recent studies have shown that some of the supplements that he and others advocate (saw palmetto for prostate problems and glucosamine and chondroitin for joint pain) can be ineffective, the use of these are, in general, just a small part of Schneider's comprehensive wellness program. All chapters are easy to navigate and well organized, and feature not only useful "to dos" but a number of "how tos" (relaxation response for sleeplessness, for example). When dealing with insomnia, he suggests an exercise program and good "sleep hygiene" (firm mattress, no caffeine) and discusses various nonaddictive prescription drugs (including dosage and side effects). Overall, Schneider's balanced view of integrative therapies and his great fund of practical and medical advice are both reassuring and invigorating. (June)

Based on products developed in the 1960s by Austrian chemist Rudolf Hauschka and aesthetician Elisabeth Sigmund, the Dr. Hauschka skin-care line has been used by Hollywood makeup artists to care for the complexions of such trendsetters as Cate Blanchette, Jennifer Aniston and Madonna. The line incorporates plant ingredients extracted by a method that Hauschka claimed retained their most vital life energies. West Kurz, now president of Dr. Hauschka Skin Care Inc., offers readers a month-long, 12-step regimen to restore health and beauty based on Hauschka's belief that restoring life energies provides optimum health. West Kurz shows readers how to structure their lives and choose healing strategies according to their own natural rhythms. Her plan consists of foods, herbs, essential oils, exercise, meditation and beauty products that readers can use to combat stress, environmental pollution and the effects of aging. She provides menus and recipes and describes proper skin-care methods and solutions for rosacea, acne and other conditions. West Kurz actively promotes the Dr. Hauschka line, but also includes instructions for simple at-home treatments using oatmeal, almond butter, apple cider vinegar, herbs and other inexpensive items. While her practical, creative suggestions are rejuvenating, readers will find most refreshing Hauschka's vision of respect and love, first for the self and then for others and the planet. (May)

Christianity Today editor Galli explores the less lovable side of the Christian deity, offering a well-written, thoroughly researched look at Jesus. "The warm and friendly Jesus, although an attractive idea, is but an idol," Galli says. He uses 17 passages in the Gospel of Mark to present a Jesus who is much less loving, gentle and patient than many Christians would like to believe. This Jesus can be stern, confrontational, purposefully confusing and even impatient. He sometimes shames and scares us, but loves us enough to draw us inexorably toward him: "For Jesus has come to us, the real Jesus—mean, wild, and pulsing with an unnerving and irresistible love." Although several other recent books, including Mark Buchanan's Your God Is Too Safe and R.T. Kendall's Out of Your Comfort Zone, have also traversed the God-is-dangerous territory, this one contributes much to the discussion; Galli's writing is clear and concise, his logic smooth, his knowledge of early Christian saints helpful, the discussion questions on target and his conclusions inescapable. Readers will come away with a disconcerting new understanding of "Jesus mean and wild." (July)

By age 11, Cornwell had a well-deserved reputation as "an academic reject and troublemaker." Besides running with young thugs in London's East End, he had attacked a nun, a teacher at his school. But after a stranger molested him, he became a devout altar boy and, two years later, a priest-in-training at Cotton College. There he lost his Cockney accent, felt schoolboy crushes and constantly wrestled with an overzealous conscience, his scruples exacerbated by priest-teachers ranging from rigid to predatory. Helping him navigate stormy adolescence was the brilliant and sensible Father Armishaw, literature teacher and music lover, who cared for him as his own troubled father and volatile mother were never able to do. Readers who objected to Cornwell's controversial bestseller Hitler's Pope may not appreciate his portrayal of Catholics in the 1950s, and the memoir police may accuse him of erring on the side of invention, especially since he kept no diaries. Despite its occasional touch of narcissism—his culminating struggle is with "the embodiment of all those in my life who had failed to see my worth"—the book is a fine read. With a literary novelist's eye for detail and ear for dialogue, Cornwell has written a psychologically astute and often touching coming-of-age story. (June 13)

Boyett (Pocket Guide to the Apocalypse) packs a surprising amount of information into this little guide. With humor always at the ready, he dashes through a glossary of biblical terms, a list of key characters and a summary of every book of the Bible. The introduction kicks off with a nod to the difficulties of biblical interpretation and a few of the less-than-stellar movements it helped inspire ("The Bible has motivated its readers to tend the sick.... It also motivated the Crusades"). This forthright tone continues throughout, though Boyett clearly writes from an evangelical perspective. The guide also includes an interesting history of the English Bible and summary of translations. Younger readers who would like to be more familiar with the biblical text will appreciate Boyett's tone, while older readers who have been in the church most of their lives will learn—or be reminded of—many things along the way. The book has a few weaknesses: the endless list of books and biblical events gets tedious; readers may have benefited more from thematic summaries. And there are a few references those outside the church won't understand. But overall, the guide is well written, fun and brief—which, when you're attempting to summarize the entire Bible, is quite an accomplishment. (June 6)

It's a little jarring to see a new book from an author who's been dead for 10 years. Yet these clearly are the words and teachings of Nouwen, prepared by two people close to him when he was alive (Rebecca Laird and Michael Christensen). Much like Nouwen's Making All Things New, this is by a spiritual master for everyday people longing to be closer to God. It is not about how to become a spiritual friend, mentor or director, but focuses on ways individuals can find their spiritual direction in the broadest possible sense. Although there is an essay on what a spiritual director does, there is much more about how to pray, practice solitude and overcome the fears that keep us from knowing ourselves as God's beloved. Many Christians who struggle with the image of a punishing God will appreciate the section on becoming attentive to and working with our image of God. Following each chapter there is a recommended spiritual practice and questions to ponder. This is a brilliant addition to Nouwen's canon of work as a writer and will enrich both longtime Nouwen fans and newcomers to his wisdom. (June)

Downing, a professor of English at Messiah College, explains what postmodernism is and why Christians shouldn't fear it; indeed, postmodernism can help Christians articulate, experience and embrace faith. For example, postmodern challenges to foundationalism can help Christians move beyond an Enlightenment-based focus on the reasonableness of Christianity and toward a trust of the Incarnate God. Postmodernism also offers Christians new tools for discussing the age-old problem of scriptural inconsistency. Downing, however, is not an uncritical apologist for postmodernism. In a concluding chapter, she raises some concerns: postmodernism has "failed to conceptualize a transcendent Other," and that Other—God—is central to Christianity. The chapter on the arts is sure to distinguish Downing's account from pomo Christian books more narrowly focused on philosophy and theology. Downing deserves kudos for writing about abstruse topics in lucid and clear prose; no one will breeze through this book, but Downing has done everything possible to open up academic concepts to thoughtful readers. Well-placed autobiographical vignettes help illustrate technical arguments from literary theory. While the cutesy postmodern parentheticals—as in the titular "(My)," or in "Opening a (La)can of Worms"—are a bit much, on the whole, this is a winsome introduction to postmodernism. (June)

In this elegant, fast-paced, and judicious cultural and religious history, journalist O'Shea, author of The Perfect Heresy, provides a remarkable glimpse into the origins of the conflicts between Christians and Muslims as well as their once peaceful coexistence. He focuses on seven military battles—Yarmuk A.D. 636), Poitiers (732), Manzikert (1071), Hattin (1187), Las Navas de Tolosa (1212), Constantinople (1453) and Malta (1565)—between Christians and Muslims as the high-water marks of their attempts to shape the Mediterranean ("sea of faith") world of the Middle Ages. O'Shea vividly captures and recreates not only the enmity between the two religions but also the sectarian rivalries and political intrigues within each religion. Yet the relationship between Christianity and Islam was marked not only by bloody Crusades and wars of conquest. As O'Shea so eloquently points out, Christians and Muslims also experienced long periods of rapprochement, signaled by the long peace at Córdoba in the early Middle Ages and in the intellectual and social flourishing at Toledo and Palermo in the 11th century. O'Shea's marvelous accomplishment offers an unparalleled glimpse of the struggles of each religion to establish dominance in the medieval world as well as at the strategies for living together that the religions enacted as they shared the same territory. (June)

The Indian guru Swami Vivekananda had the gift of being bicultural. He brought the Vedanta philosophy of Hinduism to the 1893 World Parliament of Religions and prepared the way for the flowering of yoga in the West. Vivekananda's accessible teachings have been edited and compiled in countless ways, and this edition by DeLuca, a student of Vedanta, is intended to offer students of yoga something to think about, since Indian yoga is more than a series of physical postures. The guru gently introduces what may be unfamiliar ideas from Hinduism, such as maya, or illusion. The book's organization into broad themes, including the four yoga paths, is logical in concept yet fuzzy in execution, because the writing doesn't always lend itself to clear differentiation. "Oneness" is a pervasive teaching for Vivekananda, and ruminations on it end up scattered throughout the book. The result is somewhat repetitive and disorganized. Nor are there citations showing where the writing is drawn from, except in the appendix. End material, including a reading list, glossary and biographical material, is helpful. This is not the best introduction to Vivekananda, but the swami is so clear himself that he needs little help. (June)

What does it mean to be a writer working in a context of faith? Answers to this question and others are the crux of this meaty, thoughtful volume of essays edited from speeches and interviews at the biennial Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing. As with most collections, there is some unevenness but also welcome diversity. The essays range from the gentle simplicity of Jan Karon to David James Duncan's assertion that when writing and faith collide, we'll need to find ways to clean up the "wreckage." Katherine Paterson deservedly gets two chapters; Madeleine L'Engle offers an autobiographical look at writing fiction; and literary novelist Bret Lott is unabashedly evangelical. It's hard to go wrong with essays from the esteemed Frederick Buechner, Ron Hansen (who remarks on the "sabotage of the fictional dream by forcing one's characters to perform the role of mouthpieces"), Elizabeth Dewberry or the delightful Thomas Lynch. There are also interviews with Anne Lamott and Kathleen Norris, and Garry Wills's excellent conversation with screenplay writer and film director Paul Schrader. This collection should be required study for writers of faith and their readers. (June)

The Fitzgeralds, a married couple and co-editors of the award-winning book Christian Spirit, collaborate again in a collection of quotations from Islam's holy book, the Qur'an, and the hadith, or sayings of the Prophet Muhammad passed down by Muslims in the centuries since his death. The book sets out to explore if these sources provide a basis for improving interfaith relations. The Fitzgeralds give the readers space to come to their own conclusions, not taking sides in their preface. Their selections of Qur'anic and hadith passages show a unique sensitivity to and understanding of Islam. Accompanied by lovely photographs, some of which are from the co-editors' travels in the Islamic world, as well as reprints of Islamic art and illuminated Qur'ans, the titular "spirit" of Islam comes across as reflective, wise and bridge building. The introduction by Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf is dull, but it does not detract from the rest of the book. The Fitzgeralds have reorganized some of Islam's most sacred texts and art in an easy-to-understand format, not only underscoring the interfaith resources in Islam but the spiritual side of Islam as well. (May 31)

At the outset of this quiet, quirky book, O'Reilley (The Barn at the End of the World) declares that she has written neither a memoir nor a collection of essays: rather, she has collected ephemera. In vignettes that recall Barbara Holland's work, O'Reilley discusses the meaning of vocation—her job as a college English professor, she says, would not begin to capture her passion for pottery or her call to the ministry of spiritual direction. Her mother, recently dead, casts a long shadow; some of O'Reilley's strongest prose is about grief. She also pays good attention to nature and animals: dogs, goldfinches, elk and deer meander through her reflections. And this is a deeply spiritual book. O'Reilley equivocates about her belief in God, but she wakes up every morning praying and practices walking meditation. She lambastes the kind of Christians who have tamed and domesticated Jesus. The genre of occasional prose invites annoying, if forgivable, repetition—too many uses of the same Sufi phrase "The soul flies in circles," for instance. A Catholic turned Quaker, O'Reilley rebels against tidy religious language. "I want every spiritual word to be new, minted that second. Or else I want silence." Her language is not grandly new every second, but it certainly is lovely. (May 25)

Nina Planck is a good, stylish writer and a dogged researcher who writes directly, forthrightly and with an edge. She isn't afraid to make the occasional wisecrack ("No doubt, for some people, cracking open an egg is one chore too many") while taking unpopular positions. Her chosen field—she is a champion of "real" (as opposed to industrialized) food—is one in which unpopular positions are easy to find.

As Planck reveals, in her compellingly smart Real Food: What to Eat and Why, much of what we have learned about nutrition in the past generation or so is either misinformed or dead wrong, and almost all of the food invented in the last century, and especially since the Second World War, is worse than almost all of the food that we've been eating since we developed agriculture.

This means, she says, that butter is better than margarine (so, for that matter, is lard); that whole eggs (especially those laid by hens who scratch around in the dirt) are better than egg whites, and that eggs in general are an integral part of a sound diet; that full-fat milk is preferable to skim, raw preferable to pasteurized, au naturel preferable to homogenized. She goes so far as to maintain—horror of horrors—that chopped liver mixed with real schmaltz and hard-boiled eggs is, in a very real way, a form of health food.

Like those who've paved the way before her, she urges us to eat in a natural, old-fashioned way. But unlike many of them, and unlike her sometimes overbearing compatriots in the Slow Food movement, she is far from dogmatic, making her case casually, gently, persuasively.

And personally, Planck's philosophy grows directly out of her life history, which included a pair of well-educated parents who decided, when the author was two, to pull up stakes in Buffalo, N.Y., and take up farming in northern Virginia. Planck, therefore, grew up among that odd combination of rural farming intellectuals who not only wanted to raise food for a living but could explain why it made sense.

Planck, who is now an author and a creator and manager of farmers' markets, has a message that can be—and is—summed up in straightforward and simple fashion in her first couple of chapters. She then goes on to build her case elaborately, citing both recent and venerable studies, concluding in the end that the only sensible path for eating, the one that maintains and even improves health, the one that maintains stable weight and avoids obesity, happens to be the one that we all crave: not modern food, but traditional food, and not industrial food, but real food. (June)

Mark Bittman's latest book is The Best Recipes in the World (Broadway); he is also the author of How to Cook Everything (Wiley).