Nonfiction Reviews: Publishers Weekly Nonfiction Reviews from 6/26/06

by Staff -- Publishers Weekly, 6/26/2006

Nonfiction

A world authority on language, Crystal (The Stories of English) offers an impeccably organized guide to language and communication that brings clarity to a scholarly subject, and is sure to become a standard reference. Written in an unadorned style, Crystal's chapters are purposeful lessons ("How we use tone of voice"; "How children learn to mean"; "How we choose what to say") that demonstrate his pedagogical genius for rendering complex matters simple. Crystal's tome imparts a vast amount of knowledge concerning intricate and interrelated aspects of speech, the written word, lexicography, grammar and neurological aspects of communication; it encompasses issues of identity, ethnicity and the preservation of disappearing languages, the structural organization of the world's different language families, multilingualism, and the pragmatic uses of artificial and natural languages. A feat of academic distillation, Crystal's book abounds in wisdom and dry wit. (Nov.)

In this buoyantly written first biography of Charles Addams, Davis dispels the myths surrounding the cartoonist and challenges facile assumptions that Addams was the archetype of his own creepy creations. Though fascinated by "the aberrations of life," he loved Aston Martins and Bugattis, cigars, drinking and beautiful women (he often dated famous ones, including Greta Garbo, Joan Fontaine and Jackie Kennedy). Addams—whose living room centerpiece was a draining device for corpses called a "drying out table"—gleefully perpetuated the myths surrounding him. He liked to imagine "that if he hadn't been a cartoonist, he might have been a criminal." However, a more sustained exploration of Cecil Beaton's comment that Addams's work "introduced a gothic element into daily life" would have added a deeper dimension to this portrait. Overall, it's more affectionate than critical, and never fully explains why Addams's work became so beloved or significant. Yet the book, which includes previously unpublished artwork, photographs and personal drawings, is sure to interest Addams fans and New Yorker history buffs. (Nov.)

Hirshenson and Jenkins got their start casting for Francis Ford Coppola's Zoetrope Studios. When the studio went bust, they opened their own office, the Casting Company, and their book reminisces about the many films they've cast, including Harry Potter and A Beautiful Mind; the actors they've discovered, such as Tom Cruise, Leonardo DiCaprio and Scarlett Johansson; and some of the A-list directors, like Ron Howard and Steven Spielberg, who hired them. Given the authors' credentials (they have been casting partners since 1981), consider the advice they offer blue-chip. They cover everything from how to handle a call-back to telling actors to send head shots "that actually look like you." Most important, never take anything personally. A great audition doesn't always translate into a role: there are many factors that determine the final decision, such as chemistry, preference and competition. These veteran insiders have a passion for casting major motion pictures, and they use meetings with famous people to illustrate how Hollywood works. Tales of actors' career trajectories are informative without being malicious. For actors, this informative, breezy narrative is like having a frank but loving aunt tell you the facts of life. (Nov.)

We all get where we're going with a push from someone who cares, says acclaimed actor Washington. A national spokesperson for Boys and Girls Clubs of America, he tells how he found his own mentor in the Mount Vernon, N.Y., Boys Club and celebrates the organization's 100th anniversary with this collection of 70 celebrities' accounts of how as youngsters they were guided by a caring adult. Among the contributors are actors, athletes, authors, artists and former presidents. Retired basketball coach John Wooden remembers his hardworking father, a farmer, making the time every night to read poetry and Scripture to his children. Gloria Steinem describes how she saw a commitment to women's rights in the novels of Louisa May Alcott. Whoopi Goldberg credits her mother with teaching her empathy the day she abandoned her best friend to hang out with the popular kids. Bill Clinton was influenced by a great-uncle, an undereducated man who not only taught him to value people's differences but to refrain from making judgments. Washington has produced an anthology that will inspire successful men and women to help and empower the next generation. B&w photos. (Nov.)

Adding to the burgeoning number of books about defining and seeking happiness, cultural historian Schoch looks to the work of philosophers and religious seekers of the past. The essence of happiness, Schoch believes, is not simply feeling good—a state some today consider an entitlement. Rather, it lies in one's quest to create a better world. First highlighting the Greek philosopher Epicurus, the Roman Stoic Seneca and medieval Islamic scholar Abu Hamid al-Ghazali, Schoch explains that although these three thinkers had very different experiences, they were united in their search for a more fulfilling life under sometimes adverse conditions. Schoch then explores the ideas found in eight sacred and secular traditions, including Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity and Epicureanism. Epicureans, for example, sought pleasure, but only after conquering their fear of death. Judaism, the author says, wrestles with the question of human suffering by emphasizing the importance of enduring it honorably. Buddhists struggle to free themselves from the ego to attain detachment, right actions and enlightenment. Schoch writes in an informed, lively style and his nonjudgmental stance will appeal to many who seek not easy self-help but to wrestle with issues of meaning and values. (Nov.)

Smith, a sailor and author of How the Great Pyramid Was Built, intersperses occasionally dry explanations of the complex physics of waves with harrowing tales of modern-day maritime tragedies. He enumerates the many natural forces that create waves: the moon's gravity pulls on the oceans; Earth's rotation pushes them; the sun heats them; the wind tugs against their surface; earthquakes displace them. The resulting waves can propagate from one side of the ocean to the other: waves from one storm race outward to interact with waves from another, converging ocean currents force them even higher or flatten them out completely. The complexity of waves staggers the imagination. In modern times, Smith says, with the importance of shipping and the growth of off-shore drilling platforms, understanding waves is more vital than ever—we must especially understand extreme, or rogue, waves that can appear out of nowhere and tower over a hundred feet high. In a chapter on the 2004 tsunami, Smith recounts the harrowing experience of two scuba divers caught in the maelstrom and suggests California could be at risk for a future tsunami. Science is only beginning to understand tsunamis, hurricanes and rogue waves, and Smith's book is for readers who want a serious scientific look at what we're learning. Illus. (Nov. 27)

A podiatrist shortens toes so her clients can fit into Jimmy Choos, and a lawyer who's argued before the Supreme Court routinely lies to a succession of doctors to feed his Botox habit. As this depressing survey of a global beauty business rooted in self-hatred and a fear of aging demonstrates, an unfortunate few are literally dying to be pretty: the Nigerian first lady expired after liposuction and a tummy tuck, and Olivia Goldsmith, whose novels lampooned middle-aged women afraid to look their age, succumbed during a chin tuck. New York Times reporter Kuczynski has attitude to spare as she outs Sarah Jessica Parker and Nicole Kidman as probable Botox users, and assesses the "traumatized" naked body of a litigator who's showing off the results of a total body lift after gastric-bypass surgery: "to be honest and brutal and bitchy, she doesn't look that great." A canny and witty guide to the excesses of a conformist society with more money than sense, Kuczynski discloses her own beauty addiction in the form of Botox, collagen derived from cadavers and fetal foreskin cells, liposuction, eyelid lifts and eventually a botched Restylane treatment that left her housebound for days with a disfigured lip.(Oct. 17)

Not a light read, this memoir of the author, an American-bred Zionist, and his 15-year relationship with a Palestinian insurgent is bound to have detractors, in part because New Yorker Washington correspondent Goldberg is painfully honest—about his dreams, limitations and anxieties. "I wanted to... have it all," he writes, "my parochialism, my universalism, a clean conscience, and a friendship with my enemy." Goldberg lived in Israel as a college student, sharpening the contradictory emotions shared by many of his American peers and eventually watching his former certainty crumble under the weight of military service at Ketziot, an Israeli prison. Grounded in his relationship with a prisoner, Goldberg's book travels from Long Island to Afghanistan as he struggles to understand Israeli-Palestinian violence. His honesty is itself high recommendation; the book is also marked by beautiful turns of phrase and a forthrightness that saves it from occasional self-importance. Some readers will argue with some of Goldberg's assertions (such as his reading of Israel's offer to Arafat at Camp David), and the author's halting recognition of the role despair plays in shaping Palestinian thought. Like the warring nationalisms it presents, his book is complex and deeply affecting. (Oct. 9)

As life expectancy increases, U.S. presidents are living longer out of office than ever before. But the post–White House lives of the presidents since Truman have been a mixed bag, according to this creative work by Updegrove, former publisher of Newsweek. Updegrove delineates how these men, formerly the world's most powerful, coped with their new status, earned a living and tried to shape their legacies. Lyndon B. Johnson became depressed, and overate and smoked, despite an earlier heart attack. Jimmy Carter found a new purpose in his humanitarian and diplomatic activities. Some of the book's most surprising moments come in the accounts of the immediate post-WWII presidents: Updegrove reminds us that when Truman left office, there was no pension for former presidents. Updegrove also focuses on the relationships among the ex-presidents, noting that many former adversaries made common cause, though Richard Nixon found it more difficult to get along with his successors. Scholars may find little new, as Updegrove mainly relies on presidential memoirs and secondary sources, in addition to personal interviews. But for those interested in the former presidents, this popular history will do the trick. B&w photos. 40,000 first printing; $75,000 ad/promo; first serial to American Heritage. (Oct.)

Nobel laureate I.B. Singer created a rich imaginary world during an emotionally austere childhood as the son of a rabbi absorbed in the Talmud and a cold, distant mother. His family's stint from 1908 to 1917 on Krochmalna Street in Warsaw's Jewish quarter, where his father arbitrated disputes, celebrated marriages and granted divorces, gave Isaac a front-row seat to the passionate dramas of daily life. This period was a fount of inspiration for Singer until his death in 1991. Far more complex than the media's image of the impish Jewish fabulist, Singer, as Noiville shows, was at once a calculating, charming womanizer and a depressive introvert who often alienated those closest to him, including his mentor and older brother Joshua, a bestselling novelist who invited him to America and got him his first commissions from the Jewish Daily Forward; Saul Bellow, whose brilliant translation of "Gimpel the Fool" was Singer's passport to fame; and his son, Israel Zamir, whom he abandoned in Poland at the age of five. Drawing on Singer's oeuvre as well as interviews with his son and various peers and collaborators, Le Monde literary critic Noiville paints a respectful, worthy portrait of the penniless immigrant who became a brilliant writer. Illus. (Oct.)

The third of Rossant's memoirs with recipes (after Apricots on the Nile; Return to Paris) takes the reader briskly from her 1955 marriage to an American architect right through to the present. It is less personal than her earlier books—after recounting initial difficulties with her new in-laws, she more or less lets her family (four children) fend for itself in these pages—perhaps because she has had a genuinely adventurous life, with a lot to tell, both about her New York neighborhood and the larger world. Her first boss was a criminal, but she soon found a new job as a French teacher, while she learned how to cook with American ingredients. These two callings, teacher and cook, led her through many jobs, a television show, friendships with celebrity "foodies," several cookbooks and eventually around the world collecting recipes and experiences in not only the usual destinations but also such exotic spots as Xi-an, a Chinese Muslim city. At times clichéd, Rossant's writing is vivid and opinionated, which makes her good company, and the recipes that follow each chapter are as eclectic as one would wish from a well-traveled writer. Illustrations. (Sept.)

Developed originally from an article she wrote on "erotic intelligence," psychotherapist Perel's first book sets forth a thesis for today's couples that is as revelatory as it is straightforward. Languishing desire in a relationship actually results from all the factors people look for in love and marriage: grounding, meaning, continuity. Partnerships are supposed to provide "a bulwark against the vicissitudes of modern life," Perel notes, and in one person we turn for all the emotional connections that the greater society (church, community, family) can no longer provide. Habit and certainty kill desire, yet how to live comfortably with the elements of unpredictability and risk that are necessary for healthy eroticism? Perel supports her nicely accessible work with case studies of couples both heterosexual and gay, spanning all ages, with kids and without, in an attempt to cure what ails their sex life. Some of the proposals Perel recommends for rekindling eroticism involve cultivating separateness (e.g., autonomy) in a relationship rather than closeness (entrapment); exploring dynamics of power and control (i.e., submission, spanking); and learning to surrender to a "sexual ruthlessness" that liberates us from shame and guilt. In short, Perel sanctions fantasy and play and offers the estranged modern couple a unique richness of experience. (Sept.)

Barking, lunging and nipping at visitors, terrorizing school buses and crashing through a window screen to pursue a cat in a neighbor's house, the hero of this absorbing, if melodramatic, memoir hardly seems a good dog. But Orson's fangs are firmly set in the heart of dog journalist Katz (The Dogs of Bedlam Farm), who tries everything to soothe his frenzy—acupuncture, chiropractic, "Shen calming herbs from China," sessions with a "shamanic soul retriever"—then moves to a farm where the border collie's native sheep-herding instincts might flourish. Ultimately, the therapeutic benefit accrues to the author, who finds in Orson a "soul mate" who saved him from mid-life crisis in the New Jersey suburbs and brought him to an ecstatic communion with nature. Katz's flagrant anthropomorphizing and his intense emotional involvement ("I was nearly crying with frustration, torn by my growing love for this dog") and heart-to-hearts with Orson ("[w]e can't go on this way," he sobs after a school-bus incident) will resonate with dog lovers, while perhaps puzzling others. When he Katz gets some psychological distance, though, his subtle, evocative descriptions of the beasts around him—including Rose, another border collie whose brilliant herding steals the show—vividly capture the fascinating, enigmatic lives of animals. Photos. (Sept. 26)

Shortly before noon on September 1, 1923, a massive earthquake and devastating fire destroyed Yokohama and parts of Tokyo, and killed over 140,000 people. Using vigorous prose, Newsweek journalist Hammer (A Season in Bethlehem) skillfully sets the sociopolitical stage for the catastrophe, drawing a picture of Japan's rapid economic growth, Westernization and integration into the world community. However, underneath this veneer of progress lurked a growing militaristic, xenophobic impulse. While the mass death that followed the quake is bad enough, Hammer describes in grisly detail the wanton killing of Korean immigrants by roving bands of sword-wielding Japanese. Following the chaos of the disaster, in Hammer's telling, the forces of imperialism took increasing control of the nation's agenda, and Japan began its march to war with the West. Too much of Hammer's recounting comes from the observations of outsiders: American and British diplomats, scientists and world travelers. One wishes there were a more nuanced treatment of the average Japanese who were crushed, burned or hacked to death as a result of this cataclysm. Instead they are swallowed up in Hammer's big-picture rendition. 8 pages of b&w photos. (Sept. 14)

Acclaimed journalist Rosenbaum, New York Observer columnist and cultural omnivore (Explaining Hitler), conveys the impassioned arguments of leading directors and scholars concerning how Shakespeare should be printed and performed. "Hearing Sir Peter Hall pound his fists in fury over the vital importance of a pause at the close of a pentameter line, for instance—wonderful!" Rosenbaum enthuses. Elsewhere he recalls how seeing Peter Brook's definitive 1970 production of A Midsummer Night's Dream inspired Rosenbaum's "outsider's odyssey into the innermost citadels of scholarship" to investigate the painstaking work of Shakespearean textual experts as they convert the Bard's earliest published works into authoritative editions. Evoking the clashing methodologies and discourses of scholars, the dizzying depths of lexicographic databases and a rare instance of Shakespeare's voice transcribed in a court proceeding, Rosenbaum captures with clarity and wry humor the obsessive fervor, theoretical about-turns and occasional scholarly fiasco that characterize this arcane world. He considers the politics of portraying Shylock and Falstaff, appraises Shakespeare on film and provocatively comments on the work of such influential critics as Harold Bloom, Stephen Greenblatt and Stephen Booth. Balancing academic reportage with his own lively observations, Rosenbaum wrestles with the weightiest issues of Shakespeare studies in a down-to-earth manner that readers will applaud. (Sept. 26)

For the ancient Mayans, Burns says, smoking was prayer, but when Rodrigo de Xerez, a crewmate of Columbus, returned to Spain, the Inquisitors saw what they assumed was the devil's fire spiraling from his nose and mouth—they confiscated de Xerez's land and jailed him. The weed fared better in England: Sir Walter Raleigh taught Queen Elizabeth to light up, and folks thought tobacco could protect them from the plague. In a genial social history that backhandedly glorifies this "first successful American export" while tracing its "mesmerizing" mystique, Burns (The Spirits of America: A Social History of Alcohol) demonstrates how the labor-intensive tobacco crop led to slavery, and how the YMCA withdrew its support from the Anti-Cigarette League and shipped millions of dollars' worth of cigarettes to GIs during WWI. Tobacco's detractors included Russia's 17th-century Czar Michael Feodorovich, who had third-time violators of his smoking ban beheaded, and Wayne McLaren, the famous face of the Marlboro man in print ads and on billboards who became a passionate antismoking advocate before his death at 51 from lung cancer. Burns is an able writer and researcher, but given the controversial nature of his topic, one would have hoped for more edge and attitude from the Fox News anchor. (Sept.)

During the latter half of the 20th century, geometry largely fell out of favor within the mathematical community. As Canadian journalist Roberts so well describes in her first book, Donald Coxeter (1907–2003), a University of Toronto mathematician, almost singlehandedly preserved and advanced the discipline through hard work and acute insights. His impact has been felt in a wide variety of fields and acknowledged by the likes of Buckminster Fuller and M.C. Escher. Coxeter also helped transform mathematics education to bring geometry back into the mainstream. This change is critical because, as Roberts explains, a robust understanding of geometry is essential for progress in disciplines from crystallography to cosmology, and from video graphics to immunology. Given Coxeter's long life and career, his biography, in large part, tells the story of mathematics in the 20th century as well as a human portrait of a man who—despite his royal title—was a "humble, hands-on geometer." Roberts, who won a National Magazine Award for a Toronto Life profile of Coxeter, puts most of the technical material in appendixes, so the text is readily accessible to a general audience. 70 b&w photos and diagrams. (Sept.)

In September of 2001, Breitweiser had a tumor in her breast, was suffering from colitis and lupus and recovering from the death of her mother from cancer of the mouth. Then terrorists crashed into the World Trade Center, killing her beloved husband and hundreds more. Devastated, the New Jersey stay-at-home mom became an activist, channeling her pain and rage into learning everything she could about the U.S. government's role in the attacks—an excruciating journey that is carefully chronicled in this emotionally charged memoir. Colloquial in tone, Breitweiser recounts how she and three widow pals—her fellow "Jersey Girls"—began lobbying the government to establish an independent 9/11 commission to explore all that went wrong that day. With narrative ease, the author, who has a law degree, breaks down complex arguments and political theories: one chapter is dedicated to a single footnote from The 9/11 Investigations, while another segment explains why negligence is cheaper than prevention for airlines and governments. But in episodes where she mouths off to Henry Kissinger and campaigns for the "awkward" John Kerry, her frustration palpably grows. Though not the most elegant storyteller, Breitweiser has produced a touching account of her history and ongoing mission that's bound to achieve prominence thanks to Ann Coulter's recent attacks on the author. (Sept.)

Friend, a former director of photography at Life and currently editor of creative development at Vanity Fair, writes: "For many of us, photos are the glue we use to hold in place the disjointed bits of fiction and fact that make up the stories of our lives." In this important analysis of how images of 9/11 and the "war on terror" have altered our understanding of power, world politics, religion and identity, he successfully merges reportage and analysis as he interprets the images of falling towers, panic in Manhattan streets and prisoners at Abu Ghraib that have been burned into our brains. But Friend elevates the book to a higher level with his iridescent commentary on the broad political and philosophical implications of 9/11 photography. For example, he recognizes the need to identify victims of a disaster as well as the Orwellian impulses in potential federal programs to create national photo ID cards. And he takes on such complicated issues as self-censorship in the media and how the Bush administration quickly learned how to use images to kick-start and maintain the war on terror. Lucidly written and urgently argued, this essential book is a valuable addition to literature on contemporary media and current politics. (Sept.)

Van Zandt, an early FBI specialist in hostage negotiation, shuns the fireworks his fictional Hollywood counterparts can't seem to avoid, yet veteran ghostwriter Paisner (Citizen Koch) has successfully converted his reminiscences into a surprisingly entertaining series of anecdotes. Despite the absence of gunplay, these nuts-and-bolts descriptions of bank robberies, dramatic prison riots, grotesque scenarios in which the offender yearns to die and exotic hostage dramas in foreign lands make for gripping reading. A standout is 40 pages on the 1985 siege of the Covenant, an armed survivalist cult living on a heavily defended rural Arkansas farm. Few Americans remember the outcome: a hundred men, women and children peacefully surrendered. Van Zandt also relates his autobiography, beginning as a poor youth with divorced parents whose dream was to become a G-man, which required overcoming obstacles such as failing courses in college. He describes himself as a deeply religious born-again Christian who, unlike colleagues, never subordinated family to career but who loves the FBI and America and holds a low opinion of criminals, America's enemies and liberals. This turns out to be charming and does not diminish the value of his stories, which could appeal to readers not normally drawn to such macho adventures. (Sept. 7)

Investigative journalist Hendricks significantly updates the story of the American Indian Movement (AIM) to reclaim civil and treaty rights, which has been generally underreported and lacked substantial book-length treatment since Peter Matthiessen's In the Spirit of Crazy Horse (1983). Bracketed by the 1976 murder of AIM activist Anna Mae Aquash and the 2004 trial related to it, Hendricks's swift narrative is riddled with judicial travesties, coverups, vigilantism, COINTELPRO-style tactics, mounting paranoia and lawlessness on both sides, as activists and ordinary American Indians confront the devastating neglect and outright hostility of government authorities. Based on reams of newly released official documents (many the result of the author's own Freedom of Information Act lawsuits) and interviews with many surviving actors and witnesses, the book's committed journalism doesn't leave its sympathies in doubt, while also holding AIM's militants responsible for their actions. Hendricks is careful throughout this harsh, heart-thumping account never to lose sight of the larger context. "Aquash," he persuasively reminds us, "was murdered because the government of the United States waged an officially sanctioned, covert war on the country's foremost movement for Indian rights." (Sept. 1)

These 10 original, judiciously edited essays—most of them by lawyers—explore the political and social response to Hurricane Katrina. The two opening pieces look back to the historical development of ghetto neighborhoods. Another complementary pair addresses the centrality of race in Louisiana politics and the commonalities of black and white suffering. Among the best are Clement Alexander Price's "Historicizing Katrina," a groundbreaking review of the "close link between natural disaster and black migrations in American history," and Cheryl I. Harris and Devon W. Carbado's "Loot or Find: Fact or Frame?" an eye-opening riff on the way the frame of race filters our perception of fact. Others consider the treatment of the victims as criminal acts, delve into the dispersal of the population and examine the media response. All are succinct and fresh, bound by the common question of whether there will be a new New Orleans, how it will be made and how much of the old New Orleans can be resuscitated. (Sept.)

In his latest offering, the author of The Hipster Handbook brings his brand of sardonic wit and caricature assassination to bear on all things evangelical. Like all great satire, the book is cerebral, irreverent and hilarious, while also edifying in introducing the characters, vocabulary and complex political and social network loosely referred to as the Christian right. Lanham skillfully navigates the "Evangophobe" through the treacherous waters of Colorado Springs ("the Evangelical Vatican"); goes after leaders like Jerry Falwell, whose health, Lanham writes, "has been declining ever since he got shrapnel in his leg from the war on Christmas"; and explains the megachurch phenomenon, where congregations approaching 20,000 people can contribute $6 million annually. Readers familiar with Lanham's style will immediately recognize his self-deprecating irony and indomitably hip sensibility. Despite the sometimes predictable snarkiness and easy targets, Lanham keeps the humor sharp throughout. (Sept. 5)

Richardson, executive dean of the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, set out to write a single-volume, nonpartisan explanation of "terrorism in all its complexity." Her reach, however, exceeds her grasp in an evaluation that leans more on theory than practice and is unrelenting in its attack on current policy. In fact, she's certain that the war on terrorism cannot be won and advises that we limit ourselves to "containing the threat." Richardson (When Allies Differ) follows two converging threads: Part I seeks to demystify terrorism; Part II outlines a proper response to the terrorist threat. There is much valuable information, but Richardson is too quick to dismiss or oversimplify issues: "there is no single cause of terrorism"; "efforts to produce a terrorist profile have invariably failed"; and trying to isolate economic causes is "complicated." The author insists that "terrorists are human beings who think like we do," but then dismisses Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh as "a deranged extremist." In Part II, Richardson dissects U.S. policy since 9/11 and judges it a disaster. The litany of failures is familiar if one-sided: the terrorist threat has been exaggerated, allies alienated, "liberal democratic values" abandoned. Still, Richardson's policy prescriptions, which mirror her criticisms of current policy, deserve a hearing. (Sept. 12)

An expert in Russian politics, Knight (Beria: Stalin's First Lieutenant) mars this otherwise excellent in-depth portrait of a Soviet defector with inflated claims. Igor Gouzenko, a cipher clerk in the Soviet Embassy in Ottawa, defected with his pregnant wife, Anna, and their young son in September 1945. Gouzenko also had a cache of stolen documents proving Soviet espionage against World War II allies: Canada, the U.S. and the U.K. On the basis of those documents and Gouzenko's testimony, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was able to roll up a spy ring that included a member of the Canadian Parliament. In the U.S., the case "marked the beginning of a red scare." After the furor died down, Gouzenko wrote his memoirs, which inspired the movie The Iron Curtain, and a bestselling novel, The Fall of a Titan, which sparked comparisons to Tolstoy, before dying of a heart attack in 1982. Gouzenko's story is a real-life spy thriller, and Knight recounts his defection and its frenzied aftermath deftly. She overreaches, however, when she argues that the affair "destroyed" the "already fragile post-war peace" and led "inexorably into the Cold War." In fact, the wartime alliance foundered on much more fundamental differences. (Sept. 5)

With a foreword by Jay Leno, how could this not be a nice book? Coauthors Thaler and Koval submit their own success in the cutthroat world of advertising as evidence that nice girls can finish first while taking home more than a dozen Clio awards along the way. Following up their bestselling look at creating compelling marketing strategies—Bang!—they turn most truisms about business inside out, arguing that good deeds are returned, not punished. Warning against a me vs. you mentality, they even suggest helping opponents as a good way to boost a career. Game face on? Thaler and Koval say, take it off. Being genuine, they explain, produces much better results. From crediting their friendly building security guard for helping them sign new clients to recommending chocolate as an accompaniment to presentation materials and invoices, they build their case for using little gestures to get you what you want. Though a lively and pleasant read, this is not a cutesy little bonbon of a book. Well thought-out and crisply presented, it offers key principles, case studies and exercises to help make niceness habitual. Some exercises, like turning personal disappointment into positive energy, are even quite therapeutic. (Sept.)

Given the hostile biographies and debunking histories that have recently appeared, it's safe to say that Mao's overlong honeymoon is over. In this exhaustive critique of the terrifying Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution between 1966 and 1976, when Mao unleashed the Red Guards on his people, MacFarquhar (director of the Fairbank Center for East Asian Research at Harvard) and Schoenhals (lecturer on modern Chinese society at Sweden's Lund University) deliver the divorce papers. MacFarquhar and Schoenhals cover the unceasing, pointless intrigues between Mao and his chief henchmen as the violence and denunciations, the staged humiliations and mass executions raged out of control, and the country lurched into turmoil. Even today, no one knows the final death count of the Mao reign of terror. In rural China alone, according to a conservative estimate, 36 million people were persecuted, of whom between 750,000 and 1.5 million were murdered, with roughly the same number permanently injured. In the end, the authors, ironically, take comfort from one of the chairman's favorite sayings: "Out of bad things can come good things." For out of that dreadful decade, the authors conclude, "has emerged a saner, more prosperous, and perhaps one day a democratic China." 57 b&w photos. (Aug.)

A re-creation of the inner workings of a government commission threatens to be a dry bureaucratic procedural, but the 9/11 Commission was so politically fraught that its story is compelling in its own right. Chairman Kean and vice-chair Hamilton detail the commission's fight with Congress for more money and time; its wranglings with the Bush administration to win access to witnesses and classified documents; its delicate relations with victims' families, who were its harshest critics and staunchest champions; its strategic use of public censure to wring concessions from recalcitrant officials; and the forging of a bipartisan consensus among fractious Republican and Democratic commissioners. Their tone is evenhanded and diplomatic, but some adversaries—NORAD, the FAA, House Republicans—get singled out as stumbling blocks to the investigation. The authors cogently defend the compromises they made and swat conspiracy theories about coverups, but critics unhappy with the commission's refusal to "point fingers" or its lukewarm resistance to White House claims of executive privilege may not be satisfied. The issues the commission wrestled with—official incapacity to prevent disaster, the government's use and misuse of intelligence, presidential accountability—are still in the headlines, which makes this lucid, absorbing account of its work very timely. Photos. (Aug. 15)

Award-winning travel journalist Tidwell (who predicted a Katrina-like catastrophe in his 2004 book, Bayou Farewell: The Rich Life and Tragic Death of Louisiana's Cajun Coast) ramps up the rhetoric to a category 5 intensity in this assessment of how global warming is swelling the volume of water lapping against the world's coasts. Because of society's insistence on re-engineering natural waterways and shorelines, we are committing a form of "group suicide." And, Tidwell goes on, President Bush, by refusing to fund a $14-billion plan to bring back wetlands and barrier reefs to protect the Louisiana coast, is committing "federal mass murder." His central thesis is that two conditions threaten to inundate nations like Bangladesh and cities like Calcutta, London and New York: land-based glaciers are vanishing, their meltwater seeping into the seas at the equivalent of a Lake Erie every year,; the slowly warming water temperatures causes sea levels to rise even more dramatically. Drastically slashing greenhouse gases is the only way to save the planet, writes Tidwell, who proves—his dire prognostications notwithstanding—to be an optimist, pointing to Japan's success in reforesting its islands as a model for other nations to emulate. (Aug. 16)

In her bittersweet memoir of her father's death from metastatic stomach cancer, Montgomery (editor of Tin House magazine) charts the rough terrain of her eccentric New England family life and explores the trauma it took to reunite her dysfunctional family. Montgomery's mother is a falling-down drunk who has gin for breakfast; her gentleman farmer father, Big Dad, ignores his wife's alcoholism. The author's sister, Lael, and brother, Bob, are nine and six years her senior: Montgomery feels as if she grew up solo, in a different world than they. Escaping harsh realities is a family trait and none of the family has spent so much as a holiday together in more than a decade before Big Dad's news, when they all, reluctantly, come home. Montgomery skillfully shifts her narrative between the harrowing dailiness of her father's yearlong illness, her mother's escalating drunkenness, her own impending sense of loss and a damaging familial past she recalls with deeply mixed emotions. Montgomery's lyric and nuanced rendering of her love for her miscreant tribe has comic as well as tragic moments, but she steers clear of both sentimentality and New England stoicism, creating a tender portrait of modern death and real American families. (Aug. 9)

American history of the 19th century is dominated by the Civil War, the expansion to the Pacific and the push to industrialization, but it is worth recalling the prominent interest in natural history in the U.S., a movement of which the tremendously popular Prussian scientist Alexander van Humboldt (1769–1859) was more or less the first practitioner. Arguably the Einstein of his day in terms of fame, accomplishment and influence, the explorer and author of the magisterial work Cosmos had a huge impact on American environmentalism. This ambitious subject is admirably tackled in this complexly argued book by Sachs, an environmental journalist and history professor at Cornell. Sachs cannily divides the book into the four points of the compass, addressing East (Europe's influence), South (excursions to Antarctica), West (exploring the frontier) and North (failed attempts to conquer the North Pole). The author chooses four explorer-naturalists—J.N. Reynolds, Clarence King, George Wallace Melville and John Muir—to represent the various tributaries of Humboldt's considerable influence. In this timely read, he even documents the naturalist impulse in writers such as Thoreau, Whitman and, surprisingly, Poe. (Aug.)

In this insightful but plodding critique of American foreign policy, national security scholar Johnson (America's Secret Power) worries that the United States is the world's most unloved "sinner." Patriots need not fear any sweeping moral condemnations of the U.S. from Johnson, however. He is just as concerned with whether U.S. policies enhance the nation's security as with whether they are righteous. The "seven sins" he warns against are American ignorance of the rest of the world; the executive branch's dominance of foreign policy; an overreliance on military solutions; a tendency to act unilaterally; a penchant for isolationism; lack of empathy for others; and a generalized arrogance. Johnson argues that in the post-9/11 era, these traits have hardened into a national "syndrome," leading much of the world to "doubt the wisdom of the United States and its capacity for global leadership." Blending liberalism and realism, his critique is strongest when examining specific policies in detail—such as U.S. arms dealing to other nations (too much) and U.S. foreign aid (not enough). Unfortunately, overly schematic analysis produces a simplistic portrait of America's international role. Despite some persuasive critiques of U.S. foreign policy, this pedantic book leaves the reader with a narrow vision of how this alleged "sinner" might find redemption. (Aug.)

The soap opera that is the Boston Red Sox is in full bloom in Mnookin's (Hard Times) tale about how the organization coalesced to finally bring Red Sox Nation its first world championship since 1918. After reviewing the dismal bigoted history of Boston—it was the last team to integrate, in 1959, and somehow managed to snub both Jackie Robinson and Willie Mays—Mnookin, a contributing editor at Vanity Fair, explains how the sale of the Sox to a group led by John Henry resulted in changing the direction of the franchise. And like a true soap opera, this one is filled with heroes and villains. There are the ballplayers (Pedro Martinez, Manny Ramirez, David Ortiz and Curt Schilling) and the executives (owner Henry, CEO Larry Lucchino and GM Theo Epstein). There are the intangibles like Fenway Park—to stay or not to stay, that is one of the questions—and the highly opinionated sportswriters of Boston, Peter Gammons, Dan O'Shaughnessy and the late Will McDonough. There is enough inside stuff here to send the average Red Sox fan into baseball ecstasy—and put the rest of the baseball world into a coma. Part Money Ball, part Ball Four and all Red Sox, this title was written for one audience—Red Sox Nation—and they will love it. (July 11)

Religion

Most readers know Kidd for her blockbuster novels, The Secret Life of Bees and The Mermaid Chair. Yet this nurse-turned-writer was known in traditional Christian circles for years for her inspirational essays and nonfiction spiritual memoirs (When the Heart Waits) until she turned to a more nontraditional feminine spirituality (The Dance of the Dissident Daughter). In the introduction, Kidd admits it was difficult to go back and reread her earlier work with an eye to publication. But "[a] significant portion of my life can be understood as spiritual quest and the articulation of that experience." Gleaned from Guideposts (for which she wrote for a dozen years), Weavings and other publications, these essays point to Kidd's desire to pay attention to her soul, a "repository of the inner Divine, the truest part of us," from which so much of her writing sprang. The subjects have universal appeal: a child sharing a red scarf with a homeless man; the need for solitude; fishing with her grandfather; the joy and pain of sending a child to college. Most of the essays have a point, which is neatly explained. Kidd's lovely prose, passion for the spiritual life and early instincts for telling a compelling story should help this book attract a wide readership. (Oct.)

Between family, professional work, housework, working out, e-mail and the simple essentials like bathing, eating and even sleeping, there is always too much to do. Readers who identify with the above and lament their lack of time will find themselves engrossed within the first few pages of this spiritual self-help title, as Seixas describes with candor and personal experience the unhappy life situation so many women face today. A psychotherapist by profession and founder of Deep River seminars, Seixas outlines the steps for slowing down in today's world by drawing from case studies in her work, outlining the basic spiritual principles of her seminars and providing a range of helpful, easy exercises for readers to practice. Getting to the spiritual within is not easy in a culture that favors multitasking, endless activity and the pressure to strive for perfection, but Seixas advocates what she calls "dropping down" as key to this process, which involves "moving from a more outward focus at the surface of our lives, to a more inward focus deep within ourselves." Seixas's accessible prose and the slow, lasting journey she advocates are welcome in light of the many self-help books that teach us to snatch moments of rest while still keeping on the go, go, go. (Sept.)

Pet ownership is filled with spiritual lessons, according to spirituality writer and retreat leader Farrington, who has owned her share of dogs, cats, gerbils, guinea pigs and parakeets over the years. She turns a heavenly eye to our furred and feathered friends, offering readers a new perspective on the domestic animals we love so much. "The animals are creatures of God, just as we are, ones who deserve to be treated with God-like respect, compassion, and love," she says. Saints of old, ancient prayers and modern poetry find a place in Farrington's work, which covers all aspects of pet ownership: committing to care for a pet, naming and training it, pet pregnancy, etc. She talks movingly of caring for sick animals and offers an interesting discussion of a hospice approach to helping end a pet's life. Scattered throughout are blessings, prayers and services appropriate for animals. Farrington deepens our understanding and appreciation of animals as spiritual beings, as well as our practices involving them. She encourages us to rethink our attitudes toward pets as "disposable" and merely for our pleasure, and instead helps us see caring for domestic animals as one way we can mirror God's love. (Sept.)

This brief mandate by Gingrich, the architect of 1994's conservative congressional manifesto "The Contract with America," opens with a battle cry: "There is no attack on American culture more deadly and more historically dishonest than the secular effort to drive God out of America's public life." The book's arguments are predictable: Gingrich claims that references to God are sprinkled everywhere in our nation's founding documents; that most Americans believe in God; and our classrooms and courtrooms are the laboratories where such belief is being irrevocably eroded. He trots out quotations from founding fathers that suggest their allegiance to Christianity or at least to theism, but conveniently ignores evidence that some of these men—particularly Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson—believed religion should have little, if any, role in the nation's government. If the book's thesis is tired and essentially unpersuasive, its unique contribution is its innovative, even brilliant, method of organization. Gingrich presents his arguments as a "walking tour" of the nation's capital, beginning with the National Archives and winding through the Lincoln and Jefferson memorials, Supreme Court, Library of Congress, Capitol, White House and other sites. This structure does much to freshen up a book that is otherwise indistinguishable from prior offerings by Pat Robertson and David Barton. (Aug. 22)

Are movies just mind candy or can they be vehicles for theological inquiry? Jesuit film critic and writer Leonard clearly believes the latter. He examines 50 films and extracts their theological themes with a direct and engaging prose style. Some of the film selections might surprise readers—Leonard is not afraid to tackle gloomy and often graphically violent films, such as The Exorcist, Unforgiven and The Godfather. He is quick to point out that, while some movies contain lurid content, this should not detract from their critical messages about God, human nature and relationships. Leonard also includes more lighthearted fare, such as Groundhog Day and Chocolat, thus illustrating that no film genre is completely devoid of theological possibilities. The central point for readers who are followers of Jesus is found in the essay on Billy Elliot: "Christianity, rooted in the Incarnation, must be embodied." Leonard's insights about films being opportunities for theological reflection are refreshing, and his questions at the end of each essay are excellent resources for teachers, retreat directors and religious educators who desire to use film in their ministry. (Aug.)

Despite the provocative title, Linda Seger, a theologian and commentator who has appeared on CNN, NPR and The O'Reilly Factor, disappointingly fails to deliver the "accounting of how Christian values are expressed through the Democratic Party" that she calls for in her introduction. Rather than juxtaposing Democratic Party platform ideas against her analysis of biblical references and Jesus' stand on topics ranging from abortion to the environment, health care, homosexuality and war, she instead defies her own battle cry to "stop the rhetoric." Much of the book is taken up with criticism of the current Republican administration, as well as conservative Christians and their actions, policies and hypocrisy. James Dobson and Focus on the Family figure more prominently in her debate than one might expect in a national overview of Christian Democrats. Sadly, Seger squanders the opportunity to provide Christian Democrats with a plan to showcase their religious values, much less bring new members to their party. The included study guide may serve for both personal and group reflection, and in the end, prove more useful than the uneven book that precedes it. (Aug.)

Roughgarden, a Stanford biology professor and author of Evolution's Rainbow, is impatient with the current tone of creation/evolution debates, but takes them seriously as an expression of a "pent-up urge for talking about God" in American public life. Attentive to "the spiritual yearning of people that compels them to overlook the evidence" if evolution is portrayed as an enemy of faith, Roughgarden urges science educators to show "more sympathy and willingness to accommodate people of faith, to offer space for seeing a Christian vision of the world within evolutionary biology." The book's main argument is that a suitably flexible reading of the Bible and Darwin bears out common, or at least compatible, themes, and that evolution can be read within a broader perspective of divine design. Roughgarden sees room in the biblical account for the common ancestry of all life on Earth, as well as the possibility that evolution is "guided by the hand of God, even if the mutation process is random" as described by Darwinian theory. While the book occasionally overreaches in attempts to have things both ways—or so it will seem to controversialists on either side—readers who see a role for both evolution and divine creation will appreciate Roughgarden's attempt to stake out a common ground that does not feel like a compromise. (Aug.)

The cadence of every conversion narrative is one of lost-and-found, and this edgy memoir by Chotzinoff, a freelance writer and convert to Judaism, does not disappoint. We learn of her rarefied and decidedly secular New York childhood, where music and free-flowing liquor framed intellectual discussions late into the night. This led to a wandering adolescence and young adulthood marked by drugs, sexual promiscuity, depression and binge eating. But Chotzinoff's conversion narrative eschews the traditional sudden epiphany for a gradual, postmodern transformation; when she discovers Judaism at an eclectic Denver synagogue, the change comes across less as a bolt of lightning than a long-desired and tentative homecoming. Her story is also refreshingly devoid of the usual convert's fervor—she considers herself observant, but does not strive to keep every jot and tittle of halakah. As she learns to quilt, make latkes (the low-fat version just won't cut it, she discovers) and keep Shabbat, Chotzinoff uncovers herself anew in the rigors of an ancient faith. Her writing is acerbically funny and generally devoid of sentimentality, which makes the memoir's more powerful moments—such as the haunting beauty of her daughter's bat mitzvah—unexpectedly emotional. (Aug.)

This collection of essays on a Buddhist approach to politics is far-ranging. We see contributions from Buddhists engaged in politics, whether religious figures like the Dalai Lama and Zen monk Thich Nhat Hanh or Zen student and political leader Jerry Brown, as well as a wide variety of Buddhist teachers and practitioners. McLeod, who edits two Buddhist periodicals and an annual anthology of Buddhist writing, skillfully organizes the diverse writings by using the categories that describe Buddhism's noble eightfold path. Contributions vary in quality. Nhat Hanh is clear as a Zen sitting-room bell; the precepts of his Order of Interbeing community are specific, and he can draw on decades of peace work to illustrate that what he says is not merely possible but has already been done. Scholar Rita Gross offers fresh insight about the anger of righteousness that often motivates political involvement. Other contributions are woolly or left over from the 1960s; bell hooks's use of leftisms ("imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy") draws on stale ideology. Margaret Wheatley does important work in community and leadership development, but should avoid writing bad poetry to express her views. Despite unevenness, this anthology usefully disputes Buddhism's reputation as apolitical. Buddhism is quiet but not quietistic. (Aug.)