Nonfiction: Nonfiction Reviews from Publishers Weekly (6/19/2006)

From the Washington Monument to the 1913 Armory show to 9/11 memorials, controversies over art exhibitions, memorials and public art have abounded in the U.S. In this expansively researched history of major and lesser-known disputes from the 1830s to the 21st century, Pulitzer Prize winner Kammen (A Time to Every Purpose) argues that the "disturbations" roused by artworks and monuments are often both "destabilizing" and "enlightening and educational," indicative of healthy social change and increasing democratization. Structured chronologically, the book balances scholarly investigation and insightful analysis in its fascinating discussion of monuments, memorials and American national identity, and in its probing of modernism's threat to American concepts of morality, pluralism and art itself. While this is a work of meticulous scholarship with remarkable depth and range, Kammen's dry writing style sharply contrasts with the vigor of the controversies he so painstakingly details. Yet for scholars and students of cultural history and art history, Kammen's highly informed analysis will prove an invaluable contribution to American cultural history. (Oct. 3)

The argument of this brisk biography is summed up by the subtitle: Sam Adams (1722–1803)—whom most Americans know principally as that jolly guy on the beer bottles—was a major architect of American independence. Indeed, he was the only founding father to argue for independence from England before shots were fired at Lexington. A native Bostonian and brilliant political strategist, Adams led the protests in the 1760s over the Sugar and Stamp Acts, as well as the 1773 Boston Tea Party. After war broke out, he slowly nudged other leaders toward a decisive commitment to independence; Puls quotes Thomas Jefferson's description of Adams as "the fountain of our more important measures." Puls follows Adams's distinguished post-Revolutionary career: he weighed in on the Constitution and served as governor of Massachusetts. But, argues Puls (co-author of Uncommon Valor: A Story of Race, Patriotism, and Glory in the Final Battles of the Civil War), Adams was mainly interested in local politics, and sought neither fame nor leadership in the early republic. This account lacks some of the everyday details that enliven biographies—in large part, no doubt, because Adams destroyed much of his correspondence. Still, early American history buffs will enjoy Puls's fine study. Illus. 50,000 first printing. (Oct.)

An Olympic skier who failed to medal in Albertville cheerleads sales reps at $15,000 per 50-minute gig; a triple killer gives speeches from prison; a firewalker coaches executives to walk on red-hot coals and conquer their fears; and a double amputee who is both a doctor and an opera singer summons a group of Michigan road builders to appreciate their loved ones. As he surveys a field of 5,000 registered American motivational speakers and 50,000 wannabes, Black, a former Playboy managing editor, learns that the events industry is nervous in these budget-conscious times, as corporate bean-counters question what professional speakers actually add to a company's bottom line. Trying to inspire some suburban Kiwanis with his own speech, Black wonders if people really change after hearing a speaker and concludes that the proclivity to change may be programmed into American DNA. He also discovers that one lecture can't always do the trick and enrolls in a more rigorous Landmark Forum, where strangers swap intimacies for three intense days, and chases that with a 10-week jargon-laden seminar on effectiveness. Although bolstered by solid research and lively anecdotes, this effort might have motivated readers more as a magazine article than as a book. (Oct.)

Although sports journalist Hoose's memoir of a baseball-obsessed childhood has the potential for the usual suspended-in-amber nostalgia of supposedly more innocent times, his endearingly self-deprecating tone and refusal to trade in clichés gives his story a welcome snap. Growing up in Speedway, Ind., during the 1950s, Hoose (Hoosiers) was an ungainly kid prone to being bullied: "Mine was a toxic combination, weak and mouthy." Like many a bookish boy, Hoose found escape in an obsession: baseball. But unlike his peers, Hoose had a special connection—his cousin (once removed) was Don Larsen, pitcher for the New York Yankees. They corresponded occasionally, and Hoose even shared one thrilling ballpark visit with Larsen. Hoose received even more reflected glory from his famous relative in 1956, when Larsen pitched the first perfect game in the history of the World Series (against the Brooklyn Dodgers). The event was announced to the school by the principal and the normally unpopular author was surrounded by cheering, congratulatory classmates. Although the book drifts into less-interesting territory in its later sections as Hoose tries to find some closure to this (some would say unfairly) glorious childhood episode, it remains, all in all, a well-chiseled memento of one boy's love of the American pastime. (Oct.)

Conventional wisdom has it that giant breweries, driven by corporate greed, have flooded the U.S. with inferior-tasting swill, and the only beer worth drinking is from scattered boutique microbrewers. Nonsense, says Ogle: companies like Miller and Anheuser-Busch are actually near-perfect embodiments of the American dream (in which "liberty nurtured ambition, and ambition fostered success")—and if their beers became noticeably blander 50 years ago, it's because consumers wanted it that way. Ogle (All the Modern Conveniences) looks back at the early years of brewers like Phillip Best, Frederick Pabst and Adolphus Busch as they rose to success making European-style beers for fellow immigrants, converting plenty of native palates along the way. Such men, she claims, should be heralded as captains of industry like Gilded Age icon J.P. Morgan. This material is strong, as is Ogle's analysis of the slow but steady rise of the Prohibition movement, but her narrative loses momentum as she tries to encompass the post–WWII era and add the most successful microbrewers to her list of heroes. Her exuberant musings on the American spirit become distracting, but there's more than enough drama in the family sagas to keep even the soberest of readers turning the pages. (Oct.)

Crowdy, who has previously written for Osprey on the uniforms and organizations of French revolutionary armed forces, reflects his publisher's expanding horizons in this survey of espionage from ancient times to America's invasion of Iraq. Since Egypt fought the Hittites, he observes, secret agents have been dispatched to spy and perform other deeds that may be against the law but are perceived to be in the country's best interest. Though Crowdy is familiar with standard sources, this is a work of narrative and anecdote rather than analysis, and succeeds within that context. He discusses the role of intelligence collecting in creating and sustaining the Persian, Roman and Mongol empires, offering Judas as an early example of a double agent. The development of professional secret services in early modern Europe segues into the often-overlooked role of intelligence in the Revolutionary/Napoleonic era, making for tales of spy and counterspy that are the most interesting in the book. As Crowdy moves into more recent times, he stresses increasing technological competition, reflecting the increasing difficulty of mounting human intelligence operations in modern national security states. His conclusion is a paradox: secret services must be kept under control, yet be effective enough "to make a difference." (Oct. 31)

Veteran investigative author and organized crime expert Russo's magnum opus is a compelling look at one of the last century's major power players: Sidney Korshak, a "sphinxlike operator" who, despite pulling the strings of politics and industry, remained invisible to the general public. With great detail (some of it extraneous), Russo traces the amazing course of Korshak's life—from his childhood on Chicago's Jewish West Side to his role as a mouthpiece for the Windy City's Mafia leaders and, eventually, as a major league fixer who brokered labor truces and other deals for politicians and Hollywood moguls (Korshak died, aged 87, in 1996). The list of his clients and associates reads like a who's who of the last 50 years, including Ronald Reagan, MCA president Lew Wasserman, hotelier Conrad Hilton and cosmetics king Max Factor. Russo's extensive research is amply evident, and he has made use of recently disclosed records to paint a fuller picture than predecessors such as Seymout Hersh and Brian Ross were able to. His conclusions about Reagan—such as that he sold out the actor's union—in particular are likely to create controversy, although similar ones were drawn in Dan Moldea's Dark Victory 20 years ago. This worthy addition to the genre is marred only by some sensational claims concerning Reagan that lack adequate documentation. B&w photos. (Sept.)

In the Monty Python film Life of Brian, a member of the People's Front of Judea asks, "What have the Romans ever done for us?" (apart from, of course, the "sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh water system and public health"). The director of that movie—and now popular historian—Jones (Who Murdered Chaucer?), along with Ereira (The People's England), now answer the question: a bit, but nowhere near as much as the barbarians did. Jones attempts to overturn the popular conception of the glorious Roman Empire, which he says is mostly propaganda, and claims that the barbarians—a general term describing the tribes of western and northern Europe, as well as of the Middle East—have for too long been slandered as "savages" by the allegedly more advanced and civilized Romans and their descendants. In fact, these assorted Celts, Vandals, Persians and Goths were technologically, economically and intellectually sophisticated, but were on the wrong side of history. While scholars will sniff at Jones's offhand humor, somewhat wide-eyed "revelations"—which have been revealed before—and tendency to believe the vastly exaggerated death tolls of the time (he relies on Plutarch's figure that Julius Caesar slaughtered a million Gauls, a virtually impossible feat), readers will go along for a most enjoyable ride and appreciate his fascinating tale of the barbarians' lost world. 24 pages of color photos, maps. (Sept. 15)

The author of this dramatic but restrained memoir documents a harrowing childhood in Nazi Austria, in which his personal misery blends with the larger national trauma of war and occupation. Born in 1937 to a Viennese former opera singer and a German antiaircraft artillery commander, Behr, who has written for German newspapers, was raised in a punitive atmosphere, routinely beaten by his mother (his father was away at war) for childhood infractions. When Behr stammered and soiled himself, his mother publicly humiliated him. As well, he was sexually abused, first by a Russian laborer on his grandfather's estate and then, after the war, by a priest at the authoritarian Catholic boarding school he was banished to. Behr understatedly evokes these violent episodes by remaining at a distance, referring to himself as "the boy." His father was hanged for war crimes, leaving his wife under Russian occupation, tainted by her marriage to an officer of the defeated Reich. This bitter tale ends with Behr's first taste of freedom, when he manages to escape from his draconian boarding school. (Sept.)

Kurlansky applies the microhistorical approach of his bestellers (Cod; Salt) to the loftier subject of nonviolence—which, he observes, is so "profoundly dangerous" to the powers that be that it has never existed as an idea in and of itself, only as the absence of violence. "Active practitioners of nonviolence are always seen as a threat," he says, and the conflict between authority and nonviolent resistance becomes a "moral argument" that, all too often, the nonviolent lose by abandoning their ideal in the name of self-defense. But as he studies the history of nonviolence from the dawn of Christianity to the U.S. invasion of Iraq, Kurlansky can also point to prominent victories, like Gandhi's quest for Indian independence and the Eastern European resistance to the Soviets. There are plenty of missed opportunities, too; the American Revolution, he suggests, need not have escalated into war; "protest and economic sabotage" might have forced Britain to withdraw from the colonies. Sometimes, Kurlansky's impassioned rhetoric turns argumentative, and his "lessons"—e.g., "behind every war there are always a few founding lies"—offer scant practical guidance to those wanting to take up the nonviolent mantle themselves. (Sept. 5)

Everyone knows which secret agent drives a car that turns into a boat at the flick of a switch, leaves fake fingerprints and, of course drinks his martinis shaken, not stirred: Bond. James Bond. Gresh and Weinberg, having surveyed the science of supervillains and superheroes, turn to Bond and all the wonderful toys conjured up for him by Q, as well as the weapons created by his enemies. They explain how "dirty bombs" work while noting that Goldfinger's plot to contaminate Fort Knox with one wouldn't work, because the radiation would turn gold into liquid mercury. Biological agents were also used by one of Bond's foes. Fortunately, Hugo Drax's Moonraker scheme to destroy humankind with a poison made from orchids was fairy tale stuff. Gresh and Weinberg's book goes up against last year's Death Rays, Jet Packs, Stunts, & Supercars by Barry Parker,, but they write better and their book is more accessible to Bond fans who've forgotten their high school science. Readers might check out the appendix on the Bond martini first, so they'll have something to sip while enjoying this lively read. (Sept.)

No brain is an island—so argues neurologist and writer Restak (The New Brain) in his latest book, which aims to synthesize emerging research on what he calls "social neuroscience," which examines the relationship between the social lives of human beings and the physical structure of our brains. Much of this research indicates that we're hard-wired to relate to other people, from the new mother who instinctively recognizes the cry of her infant to the twinge of empathy we feel when we see a lost stranger. Restak proposes that we can use this knowledge to understand our own behavior (a jilted lover, for example, feels an attachment and craving for his departed ex because the memory of her quite literally causes brain activity in the regions that control both pleasure and addiction) and potentially even control it (Buddhist monks seem to be able to rewire and enhance their brain activity through meditation). In the end, it's a bit unclear whether Restak wants to be a dispassionate observer of the scientific landscape or a more activist polemicist—the book closes with the claim that "by learning as much as we can about [social neuroscience], we will be in a position to resist manipulation by ads, pop culture, political spin, movies and television... social neuroscience can provide us a path towards... personal and collective liberation." Either way, this book offers a fascinating glimpse into how our brains are built. (Sept. 26)

Those curious about chess and wishing to learn more about the game (but not too much more) will welcome this accessible, nontechnical introduction. Shenk (The Forgetting) succinctly surveys the game's history from its origins in fifth- or sixth-century Persia up to the present, touching along the way on such subjects as his own amateurish pursuit of the game, erratic geniuses like Paul Morphy and Bobby Fischer, chess in schools today, computer chess and his great-great-grandfather Samuel Rosenthal, who was an eminent player in late 19th-century Europe. To heighten the drama, Shenk intersperses the text with the moves of the so-called "immortal game," a brilliant example of "romantic" chess played between Adolf Anderssen and Lionel Kieseritzky in London in 1851. Appendixes include transcripts of five other great games, along with Benjamin Franklin's brief essay "The Morals of Chess." Readers will come away from this entertaining book with a strong sense of why chess has remained so popular over the ages and why its study still has much to tell us about the workings of the human mind. 50 b&w illus. (Sept.)

Neal Cassady's wild life has been unreliably chronicled many times, most famously by Jack Kerouac, who portrayed him as the mythically restless Dean Moriarity in On the Road. The primary goal of this new biography is to separate the facts of Cassady's life from the various legends that surround it. Thus, the narrative begins with numerous true and fabricated versions of its subject's birth, after which it diligently pursues the facts behind Cassady's often exaggerated road trips and sexual encounters. While a great deal of the book recounts Cassady's influential friendships with Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg, the character who is most vividly and sympathetically brought to life is Carolyn Cassady, Neal's wife for 20 years. Carolyn served as his rarely heeded conscience, and her presence in the tale repeatedly reminds the reader of the consequences of Neal's selfish and destructive activities. The story clips along steadily and the prose is consistently sharp, but Sandison (Jack Kerouac), who died in 2004, and Vickers (21st-Century Hotel) offer scant analysis of Cassady's character. The authors do have a strong sense of movement and scope, however, which renders this a crucial tool in understanding the life, if not the mind, of Neal Cassady. 16 b&w photos. (Sept.)

BBC Radio journalist Blastland offers the heartfelt and honest story of his 10-year-old autistic son, Joe. Unlike some memoirs, which tend to focus on diet changes and medication trials and caretaker failures, Blastland uses each chapter to raise broad philosophical issues that define what it means to be human—such as intention, innocence, self-consciousness—in order to evaluate where Joe stands. Does Joe consider himself the "only boy in the world," with everyone else—even his dad—more like some "universal vending machine" that he pokes repeatedly to get what he needs? How does Joe think about himself, if he has so little awareness of others, and no capacity for imaginary play? What is it like to live completely in the literal world—with no fantasy, no jokes, no lies? At times, Blastland comes to profoundly sad conclusions. With Joe craving the familiar to the point of obsession, it's difficult for him to learn anything, since learning involves novelty. In the end, though the big philosophical issues remain unclear, Blastland knows he's learned a lot from trying to understand his son. (Sept.)

Jared is one of the most recognizable advertising icons of the last decade, and one of the most successful—sales at Subway franchises skyrocketed after the debut of TV commercials describing how he lost nearly 250 pounds by eating two sandwiches a day. But while those ads focused on the feel-good angle of his accomplishment, Jared's memoir explores the frightening aspects of being at high risk for heart attack at the age of 20 and the frustration of all his previous failed attempts at dieting. He uses his experience as a framework to offer advice on achieving all sorts of personal transformations, from dieting to battling addiction, but the principles he lays out are fairly bland: "One size doesn't fit all," "Change is for life," etc. The self-help material becomes engaging only when Jared shares the personal details of his unconventional weight-loss strategy—like how he kept his scale in the closet and let the increasing bagginess of his clothes tell him his diet was working. Delivered in a voice as amiable as his TV persona, Jared's plainspoken inspirational message has perfect built-in appeal. (Sept.)

Screenwriter Kenney (Animal House; Caddyshack), co-founder of National Lampoon, was one of the gifted gagsters who ignited the 1970s revolution in American humor. Journalist Karp (Playboy; Premiere) delivers an iridescent, polychromatic portrait of the humorist, framed within an amusing anecdotal history of National Lampoon. To chart the magazine's rise and fall, Karp conducted 150 interviews, mapping every avenue of business decisions, feuds, romances, cocaine use and bizarre pranks. It all began at Harvard, where wild wit Kenney and misanthropic Henry Beard became "symbiotic creative forces," revitalizing the Harvard Lampoon. When they teamed with publisher Matty Simmons, National Lampoon was born in 1970, filling the "gigantic void" between the New Yorker and Mad. Success led to heightened hilarity as the brand expanded with posters, products, theatrical productions and recordings. The 1973 National Lampoon Radio Hour cast resurfaced in 1975 on Saturday Night Live, but the anarchic Animal House in 1978 catapulted Kenney to Hollywood—as Karp writes, "He had transformed himself from nerd to preppy to hippie and now to unassuming millionaire artiste." 16-page b&w photo insert not seen by PW. (Sept. 1)

The title of this memoir is misleading: it's less about dogs than about Fischer's unhappy childhood, full of losses that she says developed in her a sense of justice that led her to become a crime reporter and, more recently, a savior of suffering dogs, stealing them from abusive owners. Fischer was only four when her father committed her mother—suffering from depression—to a state-run mental institution; soon after, not knowing how to care for Fischer and her sister, Kate, he sent them off to a convent school. In vivid prose, the author describes visits she and Kate made to their nearly unrecognizable mother. She emerged from her hospitalization in 1965, after nine years, and, though her husband had divorced her, she was eventually happily reunited with her daughters. During the 1960s, Fischer experimented with drugs and sex, and was arrested for shoplifting but finally found her path with a journalism career, making her mark by reporting on the McMartin preschool molestation case. Toward the end of this chronicle, the author discusses her recent avocation as a dognapper, sparked by taking care of Charlie, her sister's neglected dog. Though dotted with moving moments, this story of a highly dysfunctional family is disorganized and overlong with regret. (Sept.)

Few architects have gained the level of professional achievement and popular notoriety of Frank Lloyd Wright, who's as famed for his bullheadedness, abuse of underlings, condescension to his clients and his numerous wives as he is for his indisputable masterpieces of American architecture. In their biography, Friedland and Zellman skim over the typical historiography and gleefully delve into Wright's secrets and scandals, focusing on the cultish atmosphere, the mystical teachings and especially, the sexual indiscretions at Taliesin, his studio-commune where he commanded a near-messianic following. There are no major revelations, but the narrative is riveting, endowing its historical characters with all the drama of contemporary tabloid celebrities. However, heavy reliance on the dusty and probably skewed memories of interviewees produces some anecdotes that sound more like exaggerated cocktail gossip than historic fact. Occasionally, the authors use awkward psychoanalysis to account for Wright's architectural practices, such as interpreting his prairie houses' lack of basements or attics as an attempt to erase the painful memories he suffered in those spaces as a child. While the book may appeal to those more curious about the man than his achievements, readers may find the focus on all the indiscretions at Taliesin underwhelming. (Sept. 1)

Rarely has partisan rhetoric been more divisive or political bickering more infantile than over the last few election cycles. In this short book, Dworkin, a professor of law and philosophy at New York University and Oxford University, argues that liberals and conservatives must realize that each camp is working for the same goal of a better nation. Dworkin (Law's Empire) builds this work on the assertion that most Americans accept certain fundamental principles, the most important of which are the beliefs that "each human life has a special kind of objective value" and "each person has a special responsibility for realizing the success of his own life." From these conventionally conservative maxims, Dworkin constructs an unmistakably liberal legal framework, coming down in favor of due process for terror suspects, same-sex marriage, abortion rights and progressive taxation and social welfare policies. Written in simple and sometimes repetitive language, some of the book's sections are more compelling than others. The too-brief passage on abortion, for instance, is unlikely to make any converts, and the final chapter, on tax-and-spend policies, may strike some as naïve. Though his claim that democracy is imperiled by a dearth of rational public debate is certainly overblown, Dworkin's book deserves careful consideration and response. (Sept.)

After the left's electoral defeat of 2004, filmmaker and all-around provocateur Michael Moore has been an easy target. In his second book, Larner deftly argues why Moore is also a just target. For liberals who never liked Moore but couldn't figure out why, the book provides essential and definitive muckraking, and the reasons why Moore has attained such prominence within America's conflicted self-image. Larner, a staunch liberal whose rage at much of the current administration's policy is palpable, also despises "political work that emphasizes emotional appeal over factual content" from either side. Moore, he argues, is similar to Anne Coulter in producing journalism of false pretext and sleight-of-montage, sabotaging his own credibility and, by proxy, that of the causes he espouses. Hence, the book is foremost an assiduously researched and impassioned exposé of the foibles that have rendered the left so vulnerable to attack. Some will undoubtedly read it as the revolution's devouring its own children. But Larner's undertaking is admirably unflinching: a call for nuance and evenhandedness from liberals who would revile that same reductionism in the right. (Sept.)

Before explaining how to use ethnicity to one's professional advantage, Roldan spends almost two-thirds of this book arguing that minorities need to lose any illusions they may harbor about succeeding without learning to understand and play by corporate and majority rules. From his position as CEO of a top minority recruiting firm and former employment discrimination attorney, Roldan matter-of-factly details the obstacles to the advancement of Hispanic, Asian, African-American and female employees, and the self-defeating behavior that can keep promising managers from rising. His emphasis is on creating a personalized plan of action based on stellar performance and on building relationships, choosing mentors, networking and mastering corporate politics while outperforming competitors at every rung of the ladder. Intended for ambitious people, these are well constructed and tested lessons, supported by examples from the career paths of prominent executives like Merrill Lynch CEO Stan O'Neal. Roldan also highlights myths and mistakes that are commonly and easily made along the way, such as failing to leverage one's ethnic background into an area of expertise or resisting assimilation into the corporate culture. While he targets a specific segment of readers, Roldan's clear-eyed advice on what it takes to succeed in corporate America would benefit a reader of any background. (Sept.)

More often than not, companies face the challenge of differentiating themselves from each other—a tricky process, but one that can be accomplished through careful planning, Harari promises. Focusing on exposure and profitability, he proposes a four-pronged process for moving into the lead, including having a contrarian mindset, a willingness to cast aside perceptions, exceptional follow-through and disciplined focus, and integrity and courage. While acknowledging that it's easy to be ahead one moment and behind the next, he also observes that if your products become irrelevant, then your company will, too. To avoid that fate, he points to the Madonna Effect, reasoning that the pop star has had such a sustainable career because she has continually reinvented herself for two decades, and that regularly reinventing your business can provide similar effects for your company. He also advocates the Willie Nelson Principle: jumping in front of a movement that is already successful, re-creating it for your own advantage and leading from there. While he isn't alone in his major emphasis—that "to break from the pack, you must dominate some significant area of the market"—his primer offers many useful, concrete tools for doing it. (Sept. 22)

This scintillating follow-up to Callow's acclaimed The Road to Xanadu traces Welles's career from the triumphant premiere of Citizen Kane to his self-imposed exile to Europe in 1947. It was a pivotal period in the director's life, as his luster as Hollywood's boy wonder dimmed through a series of flawed—if intermittently brilliant—films, from The Magnificent Ambersons to MacBeth, that were snatched from his control and vandalized by frustrated studio executives. Eschewing the cliché of misunderstood genius persecuted by Tinseltown philistines, Callow assigns some of the blame to Welles's perpetual distraction with a plethora of projects (including a misbegotten scheme to become a radio comedian), the unfocused grandiosity of his artistic impulses and his directorial "strategy of simply shooting until the nature of the film finally declared itself." As he explores the tension between the director's compulsion to make art and Hollywood's need to run a business, the author interweaves fluent critiques of Welles's films and creative processes that are nuanced and perceptive. Callow's is a superbly written account of a magnetic personality and towering talent plagued by internal weaknesses and external friction, one that manages to shape the "Orsonic tornado" into an engrossing tragicomedy. (Aug. 21)

Shermer (The Science of Good and Evil), founding editor of the Skeptic and Scientific American columnist, thoughtfully explains why intelligent design is both bad science and poor religion, how a wealth of scientific data from varied fields support evolution, and why religion and science need not be in conflict. Science and religion are two distinct realms, he argues: the natural and supernatural, respectively, and he cites Pope John Paul II in support of their possible coexistence. Shermer takes the "ten most cogent" arguments for intelligent design and refutes each in turn. While on the mark, the arguments' brevity may hamper their usefulness to all but those well versed in the debate. Looking for converts, Shermer offers a short chapter entitled "Why Christians and Conservatives Should Accept Evolution" (i.e., it "provides a scientific foundation" for their core values). His overall message is best summarized when he writes, "Darwin matters because evolution matters. Evolution matters because science matters. Science matters because it is the preeminent story of our age, an epic saga about who we are, where we came from and where we are going." Although there's not much new here, Shermer's wit and passion will appeal to many but won't convince believers. (Aug.)

In this series of sprightly essays Lee presents an intriguing look at how atmospheric conditions have affected a range of historical events, while acknowledging that other factors were important as well. Lee (100 Most Dangerous Things in Everyday Life) argues that, because of the weather's impact, we have less control over events than we think. She theorizes that Greek culture survived a Persian attack in the 480 B.C. battle of Salamis because of naval commander Thermistocles' excellent knowledge of wind currents. In another chapter, Lee vividly describes the 1415 battle of Agincourt, where England's Henry V pitted his exhausted and badly outnumbered army against the French as relentless rain turned the war arena into a mud field. Henry dispatched his archers to force the opposition onto the deadly battleground, where horses and riders collapsed, giving the young king a decisive victory. Elsewhere Lee recounts how in 1800 a storm flooded bridges and roads, disrupting a potential slave uprising in Virginia, while another torrential rainstorm finally delivered water to Civil War prisoners dying of thirst at the notorious prison camp, near Andersonville, Ga. Lee presents intriguing browsing items for history buffs. (Aug.)

The premise of this follow-up to Leadership and Self-Deception is simple: people whose hearts are at peace do not wage war, whether they're heads of state or members of a family. In this semi-fictional narrative ("inspired by actual events") illustrating the principles of achieving peace, the setting is a two-day parent workshop at an Arizona-based wilderness camp for out-of-control teenagers, but the storyline is a mere setting for an instruction manual. Workshop facilitators Yusuf al-Falah, a Palestinian Arab whose father was killed by Israelis in 1948, and Avi Rozen, an Israeli Jew whose father died in the Yom Kippur War, use examples from their domestic lives and the history of their region to illustrate situations in which the normal and necessary routines of daily life can become fodder for conflict. Readers observe this through the eyes of one participant, a father whose business is in nearly as much trouble as his teenage son. The usefulness of the information conveyed here on how conflicts take root, spread and can be resolved more than compensates for the pedestrian writing. $150,000 ad/promo. (Aug.)

When Bill Cosby addressed a 50th-anniversary celebration of Brown v. Board of Education, he created a major controversy with seemingly inoffensive counsel ("begin with getting a high school education, not having children until one is twenty-one and married, working hard at any job, and being good parents"). Building from Cosby's speech, NPR/Fox journalist Williams offers his ballast to Cosby's position. Williams starts with the question, "Why are so many black Americans, people born inside the gates of American opportunity, still living as if they were locked out from all America has to offer?" His answers include the debacle of big-city politics under self-serving black politicians; reparations as "a divisive dead-end idea"; the parlous state of city schools "under the alliance between the civil rights leaders and the teachers' unions"; and the transformation of rap from "its willingness to confront establishment and stereotypes" to "America's late-night masturbatory fantasy." A sense of the erosion of "the high moral standing of civil rights" underlies Cosby's anguish and Williams's anger. Politically interested readers of a mildly conservative bent will find this book sheer dynamite. (Aug.)

In 1987, during the height of the Reagan administration's "Just say no" campaign, 21-year-old Santos received a 45-year sentence for his involvement in the distribution of large amounts of cocaine. Now, after nearly 20 years in jail, Santos has devoted himself to making the best out of his incarceration. Having received a B.A. and M.A. from accredited universities, he spends much of his free time reading and writing about the U.S. criminal system. Here, he uses his insider perspective to provide a blunt, often disturbing look at America's prison system. More anecdotal than personal or analytical, his account illustrates the presence of gangs, drugs, prostitution and rape in prison through a series of dramatized stories. Although the dialogue is at times overwrought, the stories themselves are shocking and illuminating. Together they paint a picture of prison culture and its dehumanizing effects on the people who live within it. The book also functions beyond its role as an exposé, effectively questioning the efficacy of modern prisons. Santos rejects the idea that the "correctional system" does much correcting, and provides repeated examples of the sense of hopelessness inmates suffer during their sentences. (Aug.)

Wright, a New Yorker writer, brings exhaustive research and delightful prose to one of the best books yet on the history of terrorism. He begins with the observation that, despite an impressive record of terror and assassination, post–WWarII, Islamic militants failed to establish theocracies in any Arab country. Many helped Afghanistan resist the Russian invasion of 1979 before their unemployed warriors stepped up efforts at home. Al-Qaeda, formed in Afghanistan in 1988 and led by Osama bin Laden, pursued a different agenda, blaming America for Islam's problems. Less wealthy than believed, bin Laden's talents lay in organization and PR, Wright asserts. Ten years later, bin Laden blew up U.S. embassies in Africa and the destroyer Cole, opening the floodgates of money and recruits. Wright's step-by-step description of these attacks reveals that planning terror is a sloppy business, leaving a trail of clues that, in the case of 9/11, raised many suspicions among individuals in the FBI, CIA and NSA. Wright shows that 9/11 could have been prevented if those agencies had worked together. As a fugitive, bin Ladin's days as a terror mastermind may be past, but his success has spawned swarms of imitators. This is an important, gripping and profoundly disheartening book. (Aug.)

Preoccupied by Iraq, America paid little attention to its vastly larger and wealthier neighbor until Iran announced resumption of its nuclear program in the past year. This scholarly but lucid account by a prominent British historian begins with the Persian empire's 19th-century decline, as it lost territory to Russia and economic independence to Britain. Iran-American relations remained friendly until after WWII, when the U.S. aligned with British policy. After Mohammad Mosaddeq nationalized his nation's oil industry, the CIA engineered his 1953 overthrow—an event remembered in Iran as an outrage similar to Pearl Harbor. There followed 25 years of rule by Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlevi, who sent an avalanche of oil money to the U.S. to finance a high-tech military force that proved useless in the revolution that ousted him. Humiliated by the revolutionists' 1979 takeover of our embassy, the U.S. supported Saddam Hussein during the brutal 1980–1988 Iran-Iraq war. As vividly as he portrays American blunders, Ansari does not ignore Iran's tortured politics and its national myth of victimization. American readers may wince at Iran's wildly distorted view of Western culture, but those who persist will realize the enormous barriers to understanding that both nations face. (Aug.)

In a compelling tale with resonance for today, Blum evokes a surprising sympathy for her band of tough-minded intellectuals—among them philosophers, psychologists, even two future Nobelists—who, around the turn of the 20th century, pursued the paranormal in an attempt to bridge the gap between faith and science at a time when religion was besieged by the theory of evolution and a new scientific outlook. Foremost in the Society for Psychical Research in America was the brilliant philosopher and psychologist William James, who like the others, risked his reputation in this unorthodox pursuit. Blum unearths the history of their research, their passionate friendships and debates, as well as their private doubts about the meaning of their work. Much of the society's efforts were devoted to exposing charlatans, but even the most dogged of the members, Richard Hodgson, was baffled by Boston's Leonora Piper, a reluctant medium of rare gifts. As Hodgson obsessively studies this medium, the story grows weirder and weirder, but Blum, who was nominated for an L.A. Times Book Award for Love at Goon Park, tells it straight, never overdramatizing the strange events. She achieves deep poignancy at moments that in less gifted hands could have seemed most laughable. The result is a moving portrait of a fascinating group of people and a first-rate slice of cultural history. (Aug. 7)

Pomfret's first sojourn in China came as an American exchange student at Nanjing University in 1981, near the outset of China's limited reopening to the West and its halting, chaotic and momentous conversion from Maoist totalitarianism to police state capitalism and status as world economic giant. Over the next two decades, he returned twice as a professional journalist and was an eyewitness to the events at Tiananmen Square in 1989. Pomfret's enthusiasm and personal access make this an engaging examination of three tumultuous decades, rooted in the stories of classmates whose remarkable grit and harrowing experiences neatly epitomize the sexual and cultural transformations, and the economic ups and downs, of China since the 1960s. At the same time, Pomfret draws on intimate conversations and personal diaries to paint idiosyncratic portraits with a vivid, literary flair. Viewing China's version of capitalism as an anomoly, and focused overwhelmingly within its national borders, the book's lack of a greater critical context will be limiting for some. But Pomfret's palpable and pithy first-hand depiction of the New China offers a swift, elucidating introduction to its awesome energies and troubling contradictions. (Aug.)

In this troubling portrait of the war on terror, America's intelligence agencies confront not just al-Qaeda but the Bush administration's politicized incompetence. Journalist Suskind (The Price of Loyalty) follows the triumphs and failures of the "invisibles"—the counterterrorism experts at the NSA, the FBI and especially the CIA—as they painstakingly track terrorists' communications and financial transactions, interrogate prisoners and cultivate elusive al-Qaeda informants. Unfortunately, he contends, their meticulous intelligence-sifting went unappreciated by administration policymakers, especially Dick Cheney, who formulated an overriding "one percent" doctrine: threats with even a 1% likelihood must be treated as certainties. The result was "the severing of fact-based analysis from forceful response," most glaringly in the trumped-up alarm over Iraqi WMDs. In dramatizing the tensions between CIA professionals and White House ideologues, Suskind makes his sympathies clear: CIA chief George Tenet, pressured to align intelligence with administration policy, emerges as a tragic fall guy, while President Bush comes off as a dunce and a bully, likened by some observers to a ventriloquist's dummy on Cheney's knee. Suskind's novelistic scene-setting—"Condi looked up, impatiently"—sometimes meanders. But he assembles perhaps the most detailed, revealing account yet of American counterterrorism efforts and a hard-hitting critique of their direction. (June 20)

Lifestyle

Food & Entertaining

Born Ethiopian, raised Swedish, and now one of New York City's top chefs, Samuelsson (Aquavit: And the New Scandinavian Cuisine) has written an exotic yet accessible book that will hasten the coming of the African fusion cookery he envisions. His 204 recipes and 258 color photos are enriched with personal and political history; as in his many condiments and sauces, the balance is right. While he stresses the diversity and bounty of the second-largest continent, he repeatedly describes African cuisine as poor people's cooking, crafted with simple tools and necessarily emphasizing starches, vegetables and big flavors. Whether it's rosemary for Honey Bread or turmeric, ginger and cinnamon in his Vegetable Samosas, herbs and spices are always sauteed in oil or tossed in a hot dry pan, to intensify and mellow. He even proposes toasting the cinnamon for the whipped cream accompanying his Ethiopian Chocolate Rum Cake. The recipe for the cake is typical: the batter is prepared in a single bowl, mixed with a spoon, and bakes up moist and gingerbread-like, with great keeping properties. Toasting the cinnamon takes seconds and is impressive in the complexity it delivers. (Oct.)

This cheery cookbook celebrates the timeless appeal of homemade chicken and chocolate cake on the kitchen table. Torey, owner of the Magnolia Bakery and author of The Magnolia Bakery Cookbook and More from Magnolia, has built her culinary career on simple, classic recipes. Here the focus moves away from cookies and cupcakes (recently namedropped in a Saturday Night Live sketch) to the dishes she makes in her own home in upstate New York. Colorful photographs depict Torey, her partner and collie dogs in their country-style house amid vintage textiles and tableware. Torey is a believer in fresh, seasonal eating. Her homey, elemental dishes span the seasons, from light summery Eggplant with Red and Yellow Cherry Tomato Sauce to an autumnal Butternut Squash Soup with Apple and Onion. Dinners are divided up into no-fuss "weekday" and more complicated "weekend" categories. She's also included the formulas for two of her famous cupcakes: Chocolate with Butterscotch Frosting and Orange Vanilla. Torey goes easy on the text, offering minimal instruction, but these are straightforward recipes to follow, and the result is a tasty blend of nostalgia and innovation. (Oct.)

Dornenburg and Page, authors of Becoming a Chef and Culinary Artistry, demystify the challenge of food and beverage pairing in this exhaustive, accessible resource. Believing that the best matches create peak experiences, the authors consult with the world's most discriminating palates, who see food and drink as inseparable. With stories from such noted chefs as Daniel Boulud, Traci Des Jardins and Patrick O'Connell and a host of top sommeliers, this comprehensive collection provides a wealth of guidelines for pairings, not only by specific food, but by food type, time of day, characteristics, season and personal mood. From fast food to ethnic cuisine, they include unlikely entries such as Kentucky Fried Chicken (Pinot Noir, Gewürztraminer), oxtails (Barolo), moussaka (Retsina, Rioja), potato chips (beer, champagne) and saag paneer (Pinot Gris). While focusing primarily on wine, the authors include matches for a variety of other beverages, including tea, water, coffee, beer and spirits, and offer the pairings in reverse—what to serve if you've already selected your beverage. This encyclopedic collection is highly recommended for those who give serious thought to the flavor of each dish. 70 full-color photographs. (Oct.)

Parenting

Crease, a music journalist (Gil Evans: Out of the Cool), gently guides parents through the potentially overwhelming process of choosing a musical instrument for their child, and nurturing musical development throughout childhood. Noting that public schools have lost the beat when it comes to music education, Crease urges parents to take matters into their own hands, beginning early on to shape their child's musical world. Not intended to help parents raise professional musicians, the book is a primer on how to encourage music education and enjoyment. Crease explores preschool programs like Music Together and Kindermusik, then delves into the Suzuki method, Kodaly, Dalcroze and Orff, explaining the philosophy of each approach. Included are such topics as musical readiness, picking an instrument and finding the right teacher. For parents who are not musically trained, Crease explains the families of instruments, pointing out which are best suited to various ages. Though Crease doesn't gloss over how playing a musical instrument benefits the brain (better attention span, sharper focus, increased memory retention and higher test scores), her focus is the hands-on process of helping children choose and practice an instrument. This clear-cut guide will help parents find the right musical fit for their child—and introduce them to what might be a fun and engaging hobby. (Aug.)

Health

Taylor has maintained a weight loss of 50 pounds for more than five years. Her secret? Her work as a "weight-loss artist." Taylor says her turning point came during a meeting at a weight-loss center, when she decided to stop obsessively tracking the food she ate. Instead, she would create food-centric art whenever she had the urge to eat. She quit her job and combined her artistic leanings with a childhood fascination with nuns (she lived near a convent as a kid; the kindly nuns never commented on her chubbiness) in a creative homage to Our Lady of Weight Loss, an inner voice that provides inspiration and support to Taylor. The book offers a refreshing take on weight. Sure, there are recipes, and discussions of nutrition and self-image and exercise, but Taylor gets that most overweight folk already know they need to eat less and exercise more. In chatty, supportive prose, Taylor highlights her book with "weighty confessions" that offer absolution and cute "fat-oids" ("It takes twenty-two muscles to smile and sixty-two to frown"). And there are clear, witty instructions for art projects, including sewing, collage and lamp makeovers—most projects call for glitter glue, and lots of it. (Aug.)

Home & Gardening

Martin certainly knows a niche when he sees one, having previously cranked out manly guides on How to Mow the Lawn, How to Keep House and Bringing Up Baby. Here he gets to leave his family behind, traveling the country to explore 50 different dwellings. With its title and the unfortunate subtitle, it seems as if the book is being marketed to men who cannot commit and/or beer-guzzlers. In fact, it's a rather charming and generally un-brutish travelogue of dens that guys love, which fights hard to overcome Martin's occasional indulgence in puns and clichés. Each room of one's own is slotted into one of five categorical chapters. In the Collecting category there are gents who gather objects, large and small, into private sanctuaries—Larry Moellman in Camp Cole, Miss., for example, turned a bedroom in his 1880 farmhouse into a showcase for ornate fishing tackle. The chapter on Entertaining features an East Hampton, N.Y., man who converted his garage into a Japanese tearoom. "Real men really do drink tea," clunks the author. Martin also throws in various manspaces of cultural or historical importance. Harry Truman's presidential yacht gets a nod as, of course, does the Playboy Mansion. 300 color photos. (Oct.)

Alexander continues where her previous volumes, on designing and creating gardens, left off. The topic here, her most ambitious yet, is matched by the broad scope of her approach, which covers the "many different skills" and "various fields of knowledge"—from architecture to horticulture, with a smattering of linguistics, carpentry, sociology and more along the way—a good gardener needs. Amply illustrated chapters address each step, from initial assessment and planning through rejuvenating and renovating an existing garden. Each concludes with worksheets for hands-on projects designed to help readers use what they've learned in their own gardens, plus captioned color plates that reinforce key concepts. The encyclopedic information flows naturally, providing a wealth of knowledge, insights, tips and techniques for beginners and seasoned experts alike. These pages are destined to become muddy. Long after they've read the lively, conversational text from beginning to end, gardeners will delve back into specific sections for reference. London-based Alexander sometimes addresses concerns more relevant to Great Britain than North America, but she has clearly taken pains to appeal to both audiences and includes plant hardiness zone maps for the U.S. and Canada. Helpful appendices also include "What to Do When in the Garden," a season-by-season guide, and a list of recommended reading organized according to topic. (Aug.)

Dreamy and light, these hideaway domiciles across the country photographed with stunning serenity by Ken Gutmaker share an uncluttered effortlessness. Vassallo defines a barefoot home as enjoying informality, openness to nature, abundance of light ("helps blur the distinction between inside and outside"), and the use of straightforward, touchable textures—peeled cedar columns, exposed cabinets and framing. Vassallo's model here is clearly the Usonian house by Frank Lloyd Wright, as well as an open Japanese living room parceled into flexible spaces using screens. Many of the houses selected are located in California and the Pacific Northwest, such as a cozy bungalow in a busy neighborhood in Seattle with high transom windows and a courtyard. Other arresting structures include a summer house on Lake Martin, Ala., featuring flip-up windows rather than air conditioning; a modernly refurbished colonial in Bethesda, Md., with a fairly unconventional, detached screen porch that doubles as a clubhouse for the kids. By far the wildest structure here is a revamped Native American longhouse smack in the middle of the Kansas prairie: no curtains necessary. Vassallo, like Henry David Thoreau, whom he quotes, eschews the stuffiness and formality of the typical home. (Sept.)