Nonfiction

This new volume in the Penguin History of Europe series is a wonderful achievement, particularly so considering the mammoth amount of specialist material that required synthesizing into digestible portions for general consumption. Blanning, professor of modern history at the University of Cambridge, has performed the miracle of balancing and blending traditional political and diplomatic accounts with the newer fields of social, economic and intellectual history. A prime example of this is the author's treatment of the impact of the new "public sphere." As people discoursed through coffeehouses, Masonic organizations or periodicals, "a new source of authority emerged to challenge the opinion-makers of the old regime: public opinion." Countries where this public sphere was left free, as in Britain or the Dutch Republic, tended to be more politically stable than, say, France, where suppression ended in bloody revolution. Blanning narrates the story of Europe from the end of the Thirty Years' War to the end of the Napoleonic wars, when secularization and the primacy of state sovereignty were recognized as the key attributes of the coming era. What the Europeans would eventually get was the secular, martial religion of nationalism. But this is the subject for a subsequent volume—which will be hard-pressed to match this splendid one. (June 4)

Whatever happened to the great Commonwealth of Virginia? Dunn (Jefferson's Second Revolution: The Election Crisis of 1800) investigates how Virginia fell from being the most advanced and vibrant of the 18th-century American states to being among the new country's most stultified and parochial. Dunn points out that four of the first five American presidents were Virginians, and it was often supposed in the early Republic that, in the words of one politician, the Old Dominion had hatched "a systematic design of perpetually governing the country." By the 1820s, however, the commonwealth's once thriving economy had shuddered to a halt, its aristocratic planters were defaulting on their considerable debts, many lived in poverty and visitors from the industrializing, bustling Northeast noticed that everything was dirty and dilapidated—even Monticello and Mount Vernon. Dunn attributes Virginia's downfall to a combination of its ruling elite adhering to a "gentlemanly" way of life, its obsession with states' rights and the retention of slavery. These factors, Dunn says, fostered an atmosphere of indolence and tedious provincialism that condemned the Old Dominion to the status of a has-been champion musing nostalgically on the pleasures of the past. By focusing intently on the stresses within a single state, Dunn's is an admirable guide to those perplexed by the eventual sundering of the entire Union. (June)

Israeli author Watzman (Company C) ambitiously takes on the whole of geological and human history as they developed in the Rift Valley, the defining geographical feature between Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian West Bank. Though he occasionally drops too much information too quickly, Watzman is a talented storyteller, deftly engaging readers interested in the Earth's constant evolution, along with those more likely to be interested in the humanity affected by it. With a nice sense of irony and the absurd, the American-born Watzman makes a lively tale out of his travels in the valley, lending a practiced ear to experts and plain folks alike. Yet there are important gaps. Though he clearly wants to do justice to all the rift's stories, frequently referring to his belief that "people see the same landscape differently depending on who they are," Watzman fails almost utterly to bring in non-Jewish voices; the one Arab we meet is an Israeli Bedouin. He is also inconsistent in his references to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, mentioning Palestinian violence frequently, but largely ignoring Israeli military operations and the ongoing occupation of Palestinian lands. Though this is a thoroughly enjoyable read, readers won't get a fully rounded version of the tale Watzman attempts to tell. (June 3)

Galland chronicles the restoration and reconsecration of an African-American cemetery in her East Texas childhood hometown in this inspirational first-person account. The author, who is white, uncovers a fragment of local history in the process of her participation in an interracial group of people who from 2003 to 2006 convened a series of "work parties" at the cemetery—hacking at weeds, repairing gravestones and making offerings to the ancestors. Galland reports the meetings, church services and potluck suppers she joins in around the communal cleanup of Love Cemetery, which may date back to the 1830s. She portrays the Boy Scout troop, various clergy, parishioners and the community elders ("keepers of the group memory") involved in the effort, with especially nuanced portraits of two African-American women, Doris Vittatoe (a direct descendant of a man buried there) and Nuthel Britton (the unofficial cemetery caretaker). Galland (The Bond Between Women, 1998), who leads spiritual retreats, was acutely aware of "the dissonance between the black and white experience of life in America," but comes to her own "understanding that enormous change happens through tiny choices." Despite some slack passages, this fresh if not always coherent tale will appeal to women readers eager for an uplifting story. (June)

Historian Berman (Lyndon Johnson's War) draws on several years of interviews with Pham Xuan An before his death in 2006 for this engaging biography of the Time reporter who spied for North Vietnam throughout the Vietnam War. Pham Xuan An's deep cover began in 1957, when the Vietnamese Communist Party sent him to study journalism in California. After an internship at the Sacramento Bee and traveling around the U.S., he returned to South Vietnam in 1959. As a reporter for Reuters and Time, he was privy to classified information that made him a hero in Hanoi after the war. Amiable, fluent in English and adept at explaining Vietnam to Americans and vice versa, he was popular with reporters and officials of both nations. Readers may suspect some of An's recollections are self-serving, but the evidence in his favor is that almost everyone he befriended continued to admire him after learning his role. It's also clear An liked Americans, so much so that superiors suspected his loyalty and confined him to Vietnam after relations thawed. Without glossing over An's responsibility for American deaths, Berman portrays an attractive, sometimes tragic character. (May)

These pages resound with two main sentiments: "If you're lucky, really lucky, you have one friend in this life who feels like a gift" and "Getting a gay boyfriend enriches life immeasurably." This collection of original essays celebrates the fierce bond and special intimacy between straight women and their gay male best friends, as well as the sometimes disheartening realization that the boy you like, likes boys. Many essays soar with strong insights into love, humanity and the nature of friendship. James Lecesne writes a letter to a friend that whimsically deconstructs their 15-year friendship while revealing just how lifesaving it was. Cindy Chupack, on the verge of getting married again, embarks on a bittersweet reunion with her gay ex-husband. And Karen Robinovitz rhapsodizes on the joys of shopping with gay men and why when getting married one should, instead of bridesmaids, opt for "bridesgays." Contributors also include some familiar writers from the worlds of journalism, film, TV, theater and fiction, like Anna David, David Ebershoff, Michael Musto and Andrew Solomon. Though bookstores aren't lacking for lesbian and gay anthologies, this one justifies itself by tapping a less-explored subject with fresh voices and fervent first-person accounts. (May)

In Arellano's popular Orange County Weekly column "¡Ask a Mexican!" now widely syndicated and gathered in this acerbic volume, he answers serious, curious, and sometimes hateful but mostly irreverent questions about Mexicans. This book compiles what are presumably the best question-and-answer exchanges over the past two years, under topics including language, sex, immigration and food. Arellano wittily defuses bigotry and mocks stereotypes with his often well-researched replies. To the inquiry on the authenticity of flour vs. corn tortillas, he explains that the Spaniards created the former. "Why do Mexicans wear their clothes when swimming?" is a recurring question among Arellano's readers; his answer: good manners. In response to the vitriolic "What is it about the word illegal that Mexicans don't understand," he points out that U.S. employers don't understand the word either. The author's relentless irony and reclamation of derogatory terms (e.g., "wab," the Orange County version of wetback) is not for the faint of heart, but this approach is a welcome reprieve from common tiptoeing around the fraught subjects of race relations and immigration. (May)

Three cheers for "exuberant, foolish, mad overinvestment!" Slate columnist Gross takes a counterintuitive look at economic bubbles—those once-in-a-generation crazes that everyone knows can't last, and don't. With each one, we lament having gotten in too late, and then not having gotten out soon enough, and finally shake our heads at the inevitable bankruptcies and lost jobs and general financial wreckage. The pattern is all too familiar, which is why Gross's argument is so intriguing: that these bubbles, with their hype and madness and overenthusiasm, are not to be feared—they're actually a primary engine of "America's remarkable record of economic growth and innovation." The author surveys modern bubbles and finds the benefits far more durable than the disruptions: in each case, most investors flopped, but businesses and consumers found themselves with a "usable commercial infrastructure" that they quickly put to new uses. The telegraph "led to the creation of national and international financial markets"; extra railroad lines made national consumer brands possible and gave consumers access to distant stores; extra fiber-optic capacity gave everyone Internet access after the bust. Gross drops zingers throughout his cheery history, amusingly highlighting parallels between past and current bubbles. He concludes—with admirable practicality—by calling for a "real bubble" to jump-start alternative-energy programs. (May)

The ancient Mayan city of Tikal died out, and London nearly met the same fate in the Middle Ages, because they exhausted their local energy sources. All humankind faces a similar situation today, says Eberhart (Why Things Break), but perhaps Americans have enough imagination to come up with alternative energy sources in time to save civilization and the planet. Unlike other commentators on the energy crisis, he steps back to consider the basic science—all the way back to the laws of thermodynamics and the principle of entropy. This discussion is enlivened by the chemistry professor's friendly tone and his gleeful recounting of early childhood experiments in creating explosives, but some readers may be understandably impatient to learn how all this background can be applied to the contemporary situation. When Eberhart, at the Colorado School of Mines, finally gets to that subject, his solution is admittedly broad. He suggests that the U.S. needs to create an "energy-industrial complex" to fully supply its needs by 2035, but offers little in the way of specific proposals beyond building more electric cars and providing economic incentives for reducing carbon dioxide emissions from factories. The science is fine, but more history and policy would have helped. (May)

At its narrowest definition, "Chicago School" refers to a movement in economics whose central figure was Milton Friedman. At its broadest definition, the term refers to a system of research encouraged at the University of Chicago since its founding in 1892, which has produced luminaries in the natural and social sciences and a distinctive style of exposition and debate. This book begins with both definitions and explores how the broad Chicago tradition attracted and shaped the researchers who built an intellectual movement that not only revolutionized economics and finance, but was deeply influential in law, sociology and government. Emphasizing the links between the lives and ideas of dozens of famous Chicago researchers, it spans many intellectual fields over more that a century. The sometimes dizzying result is held together by core principles that define the Chicago tradition: insistence that ideas must be supported by both theory and data, hard work and vigorous debate. In particular, the workshop system nurtured strong personalities who could build and defend orthodoxy, and dissenters of equal strength. As an intellectual or institutional history, this study is superficial due to its breadth, but its exploration of the interaction between institution and idea is unique and fascinating. (May)

Though Rubin's latest self-help volume should resonate with working baby boomer women, she clouds her celebration of their maturity with gushing prose. Rubin (The Princessa: Machiavelli for Women) weaves through history, mythology and literature to illustrate that women can realize their true power with age. Her passionate explanation of "how to face the last big enemy: Time and Mortality" plays out as a frantic rush of not always contextualized historical references that range from former Washington Post editor Katharine Graham (she "enabled" rather than governed) and Cicely Saunders (founder of hospice care in England) to Italian queen Catherine de Medici, who asserted herself in widowhood. Ten vague tactics make up the author's "stratagem" for standing up to "Time" and building character. "Master the force of your mysterious smile, because a woman's laughter is more powerful than her tears," Rubin advises in the chapter title for tactic six, about disarming people with humor. Tactic seven, about drawing on one's anger and dealing with enemies, begins with the maxim, "Hate and wait, because one doesn't grow strong on a diet of wimpy burgers." In a culture that fetishizes youth, Rubin makes a welcome but cryptic effort to empower women 45 and older. (May 21)

Animal experts Williams (who works for the Humane Society) and DeMello (Stories Rabbits Tell) deliver an excellent look at cruelty to animals on an institutional level in various industries, taking a "common sense perspective" and revealing many disturbing facts that could turn the most ardent meat eater into a hard-core vegetarian. The meat industry gets their toughest scrutiny: the authors show that while nearly 10 billion land animals are raised and killed for food each year in the U.S., "there are virtually no laws that protect them from the worst abuse." Williams and DeMello also vividly describe how more than 95% of the nation's 300 million egg-laying hens spend their entire lives—only 12 to 18 months—"crammed into barren, wire battery cages" where they lack the space to walk and spread their wings. Further, our turkeys are produced by artificial insemination using a sucking device that collects semen from males and then forcibly injects it into females. They are also equally hard on other industries, like cosmetics, textiles and the large commercial pet breeders who sell animals "well before weaning age" to outlets like Petco, Petsmart and Petland. This is a tough but fair-minded revelation of how mass production of animals for food and other purposes results in cruelty that usually remains hidden from sight. Photos. (June)

With vivid and energetic prose, Emmy Award–winner and author MacQuarrie (From the Andes to the Amazon) re-creates the 16th-century struggle for what would become modern-day Peru. The Incas ruled a 2,500–mile-long empire, but Spanish explorers, keen to enrich the crown and spread the Catholic Church, eventually destroyed Inca society. MacQuarrie, who writes with just the right amount of drama ("After the interpreter finished delivering the speech, silence once again gripped the square"), is to be commended for giving a balanced account of those events. This long and stylish book doesn't end with the final 1572 collapse of the Incas. Fast-forwarding to the 20th century, MacQuarrie tells the surprisingly fascinating story of scholars' evolving interpretations of Inca remains. In 1911, a young Yale professor of Latin American history named Hiram Bingham identified Machu Picchu as the nerve center of the empire. Few questioned Bingham's theory until after his death in 1956; in the 1960s Gene Savoy discovered the real Inca center of civilization, Vilcabamba. Although MacQuarrie dedicates just a few chapters to modern research, the archeologists who made the key discoveries emerge as well-developed characters, and the tale of digging up the empire is as riveting as the more familiar history of Spanish conquest. B&w illus., maps. (May 29)

Political journalist and historian Barone (Hard America, Soft America) elucidates the template for America's independence movement in this well-written history of its forerunner: England's Glorious Revolution of 1688. The author describes the origins of the revolution, a mostly bloodless change of government, as a mixture of religious, political and diplomatic factors. King James II's Roman Catholicism, hostility to Parliament, and French sympathies alienated an increasing number of his powerful subjects including John Churchill, later Duke of Marlborough, who invited Dutch Stadtholder William of Orange and his wife, Mary, James's sister, to intervene. Among the revolution's consequences was a Bill of Rights that limited the monarch's powers and strengthened representative government. A Toleration Act encouraged variant forms of Protestant worship. The creation of a funded national debt and the foundation of the Bank of England laid the groundwork for financial development. Involvement in the long series of wars with France moved England from a country standing apart from Europe to one that took responsibility for maintaining a continental balance of power. It was a Glorious Revolution indeed that laid the political groundwork for the world in which we now live, and Barone's lucid work honors its heritage. (May 8)

In the second and final installment of Hearst's biography, Procter (Not Without Honor: The Life of John H. Reagan) attempts to humanize the reigning avatar of American media tycoonism. This is no easy task. Hearst's lavish and exotic tastes, his romantic juggling acts, his voracious appetite for anything that cost money and his ruthless pursuit of political office easily congeal into cartoonish self-parody. Procter, a history professor at Texas Christian University, proves that Hearst's intentions were pure—he genuinely wanted to improve the lives of all Americans. The focal point of the mogul's last 40 years is an unshakable political curse. Never internalizing the art of compromise, Hearst failed again and again to parlay his national newspaper puissance into political capital. He had a great knack for making, embellishing and fabricating the news, but no talent for anticipating it, as he continually dug his heels into the historically wrong side of all the big issues—from U.S. involvement in WWI and WWII to Roosevelt's New Deal. Revelatory research into the finer points of Hearst's protean political alliances is rich in detail, as is his infamous meeting with Hitler, but the author delivers the same summaries over and over again. (May)

Until last summer's reports that Brooke Astor's son was keeping her on a shoestring budget in her Manhattan apartment, the widow of millionaire Vincent Astor was known as a society maven who doled out money to worthy causes. But in this enjoyable and flattering biography, former New Yorker editor Kiernan, who knows Mrs. Astor personally, describes how the thrice-married woman was raised to be charming and agreeable, and learned her lessons well. Kiernan finds some detractors, who saw Astor's charm as manipulative and her agreeable nature as sugarcoating on a single-minded determination to advance her status. But even the negative comments have a positive spin. Responding to the theory that Astor married the ill-tempered and reclusive Vincent for money, Louis Auchincloss said, "I wouldn't respect her if she hadn't. Only a twisted person would have married him for love." Then again, it was an odd pairing, and not just because the matchmaker was Vincent's then-second wife, who allegedly wanted out and believed the way to obtain a generous settlement was to find "a suitable replacement." Tidbits like these add zip to Kiernan's affectionate portrait of the poet and writer who really made her mark when she took over her husband's philanthropic foundation. A portrait of the grande dame in decline, manipulated by her son is a poignant end to a grand saga. 16 pages of photos. (May 21)

In the wake of the Supreme Court's 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, many states tested Roe by placing restrictions on abortion rights. Most states now have parental consent laws for women under age 18. For minors who have reason to avoid parental involvement, the Supreme Court has instituted a generally welcomed compromise that allows minors to seek authorization by a third party, usually a judge. In this groundbreaking study, Silverstein, a professor of government and law at Lafayette College, demonstrates that this compromise is fatally flawed. Widely surveying courts in Alabama, Pennsylvania and Tennessee, she discovered that while some courts implement the bypass process straightforwardly, in many others judges defy the law. Some will not sign bypass waivers because they oppose abortion; others insist that the minor receive counseling from a pro-life Christian ministry; still others appoint a lawyer to represent the interests of the fetus. Silverstein does an excellent job of explicating the serious problems with this compromise, concluding that it is rooted in the myth that judges can be relied on to be unbiased. While her writing tends toward the academic and legalistic, Silverstein has produced an important contribution to women's studies and legal practice and theory. (May)

Relman, a professor emeritus at Harvard Medical School and former editor-in-chief of the New England Journal of Medicine, offers his diagnosis of what has gone wrong with American health care, along with a radical solution. In clear, eloquent prose, Relman explains how the rush to commercialize medicine harms both physicians and patients. Contrary to free-market dogma, Relman asserts, in medecine the profit imperative "increases costs; it may also jeopardize quality or aggravate the system's inequity." Relman's proposal: a single-payer insurance program supported by an earmarked, progressive health care tax, coupled with a reformed delivery system in which all hospitals would be not-for-profit and most physicians would be salaried employees of not-for-profit prepaid group practices. Relman acknowledges that today's political reality doesn't favor his program. Instead, it is fueling the drive for so-called consumer-driven health care (CDHC); in theory, by forcing consumers to pay for their own health care (for example, through high-deductible catastrophic insurance), CDHC promotes more prudent choices. But Relman calls CDHC "an illusion that bears little resemblance to the realities" for seriously ill patients.. He predicts that in a decade or so, when CDHC has failed to solve the health care crisis, the country may be ready to try his plan. (May 23)

Harvard professor and National Book Award winner Gould was one of science's best ambassadors to the general public until his death at 60 in 2002. These 44 essays represent his best-known pieces from his books and from essays for Natural History magazine, as well as never before published speeches. The editors have selected pieces on a wide range of subjects—from the ever-shrinking Hershey Bar, to his and Niles Eldredge's theory of punctuated evolution and Freud's adaptation of the (now abandoned) biological notion of recapitulation—which showcase Gould's immense curiosity as well as his skill at explaining even the most obscure topics with clear and vivid language. Autobiographical essays are followed by scientific ruminations on evolutionary theory and how it has been understood, misunderstood and misused, ever since Darwin put pen to paper. This collection demonstrates Gould's passion for life as well as his enthusiasm for, and awe at, the "majesty" of "the continuity of the tree of life for 3.5 billion years." Gould's many fans, as well as new readers, should find this collection intriguing as well as entertaining, an eminently suitable last hurrah for an amazing thinker. (May)

Australian technology writer Johnstone (Never Mind the Laptops) heralds what he believes will be a revolution in lighting: light emitting diodes, or LEDs, "tiny specks of semiconductor material that shine when hooked up to a voltage." They consume 80% less energy than incandescent bulbs and last up to 100,000 hours. According to Johnstone, in front of the revolution is Shuji Nakamura, a Japanese scientist who solved a series of difficult technical problems to develop a blue LED bright enough to be used in commercial settings. Johnstone is utterly enamored of Nakamura ("Shuji took off. It was as if he had rockets in his feet like Mighty Atom, his boyhood comic book superhero"), and two section of the book cover his technical triumph and the legal and professional complications that accompanied his departure from his Japanese employer. This section provides an interesting window into the differences between the Japanese and American approaches to scientific research. The book's other sections expound on the present and future uses of LEDs, for which Johnstone is evangelical in his enthusiasm. Since the technical descriptions of the chemical processes that produce blue LED are difficult, in the end, average readers may find Johnstone's infatuation with Nakamura and LEDs hard to share. Illus. (May)

Lovers' quarrels and murder, greed and social climbing: baboon society has all the features that make a mainstream novel a page-turner. The question Cheney and Seyfarth (How Monkeys See the World) ask, however, is more demanding: how much of baboon behavior is instinctive, and how much comes from actual thought? Are baboons self-aware? To find answers, the authors spent years observing a clan of baboons in Botswana's Moremi Game Reserve. Like most primates, baboons are social creatures, living in large groups of 100, where individual rank—and the ability to claim food or a mate—is based on a complex web of birth and consort relationships. Cheney and Seyfarth pepper their descriptions with surprisingly apt literary comparisons, such as the example of a baboon who runs afoul of a higher-ranking member and receives much the same treatment as an unwitting character in an Edith Wharton novel. Along the way we get a good look at the state of current primate research on intelligence and learn why scientists think the human brain is still unique. While describing important research about baboon cognition and social relations, this book charms as much as it informs. 50 b&w photos, 1 line drawing. (May)

British author Essinger (Jacquard's Web: How a Hand Loom Led to the Birth of the Information Age) provides an enlightening and enjoyable excursion into "the magical nature" of writing through the history of English spelling. Essinger provides many examples of English's well-known inconsistency between spelling and pronunciation, and the fact that many words are spelled illogically and arbitrarily. But there is, he says, "method in the madness" and concludes that there is no need for reform. Essinger notes fascinating research showing that some dyslexic children find Chinese characters easier to comprehend than written English, because Chinese characters relate to meaning rather than sound. Extremely valuable is the author's well-researched chronicle of the evolution of English spelling, beginning with the invasion of William the Conqueror in 1066, through Middle English ( a hybrid of Norman French and Anglo Saxon) and the subsequent transformation into Modern English. The rise of Modern English was sparked by changes in pronunciation, the influence of the Renaissance, which led to heavy borrowing from Latin and Greek, and the introduction of the printing press. Essinger takes the influence of technology through the present, looking at the impact of e-mail and text messaging. A good-humored buoyant style helps make this examination of the origin and current state of English spelling a pleasure to read. (May 1)

Frankie Manning spread swing dancing's popularity throughout the world while touring with Whitey's Lindy Hoppers in the 1930s and '40s. Dance writer and swing dancer Millman conducted extensive interviews with Manning for a vivid account of his career. Manning became a star in Harlem's popular Savoy Ballroom with his unique style, including dancing at a sharp angle to the ground like a track runner, speed and musicality. In a dance competition, Manning astonished the crowd with the first-ever Lindy aerial, or air step (where the man sends his partner flying). Later Manning toured with jazz greats such as Duke Ellington and Count Basie, and performed in several films, including Everybody Sings with Judy Garland. After a long hiatus from dancing, he was a consultant for Spike Lee's Malcolm X and coached a new generation of dancers in the swing dance revival of the '80s and '90s. While the first-person accounts of Manning's life capture his vibrancy, humor and charm, the narrative is interrupted by short sections of historical notes; their formality is at odds with Manning's ease and charisma. Still, this vivid memoir by one of swing dancing's innovators and stars is a must for lovers of dance, jazz and African-American history. 36 b&w illus. (May)

Waitzkin's name may sound familiar—back in 1993, his father wrote about Josh's early years as a chess prodigy in Searching for Bobby Fischer. Now 31, Waitzkin revisits that story from his own perspective and reveals how the fame that followed the movie based on his father's book became one of several obstacles to his further development as a chess master. He turned to tai chi to learn how to relax and feel comfortable in his body, but then his instructor suggested a more competitive form of the discipline called "push hands." Once again, he proved a quick study, and has earned more than a dozen championships in tournament play. Using examples from both his chess and martial arts backgrounds, Waitzkin draws out a series of principles for improving performance in any field. Chapter headings like "Making Smaller Circles" have a kung fu flair, but the themes are elaborated in a practical manner that enhances their universality. Waitzkin's engaging voice and his openness about the limitations he recognized within himself make him a welcome teacher. The concept of incremental progress through diligent practice of the fundamentals isn't new, but Waitzkin certainly gives it a fresh spin. (May 8)

Viner, a writer, editor and producer, has interviewed more than 200 women who immigrated from the former Soviet Union to America to find out, in his somewhat strange questions, "what makes them so unique" and "why so many of them [have] taken unusual sexual paths to accomplish their goals." Twenty-three of their firsthand accounts are included, comprising a sad litany of hardship and exploitation, with an emphasis on the harsh lives they left behind and the difficulty of forging a life in America. One woman, raised in poverty and tricked by an ad promising employment in elite New York City restaurants, was forced into stripping for a living to repay the agency that had deceived her. Not all the stories end tragically: one young Kiev woman fled to America when her husband was killed by the mob. After her Brooklyn roommate absconded with her documents, she became a prostitute but eventually married and adopted two children and runs her own escort service. These often tragic stories are moving, but without reporting on the larger context, as others have done, one has no idea how representative these stories are or what exactly they are intended to prove. (May)

Nemat tells of her harrowing experience as a young Iranian girl at the start of the Islamic revolution. In January 1982, the 16-year-old student activist was arrested, jailed in Tehran's infamous Evin prison, tortured and sentenced to death. Ali, one of her interrogators, intervened moments before her execution, having used family connections with Ayatollah Khomeini himself to reduce her sentence to life in prison. The price: she would convert to Islam (she was Christian) and marry him, or he would see to it that her family and her boyfriend, Andre, were jailed or even killed. She remained a political prisoner for two years. Nemat's engaging memoir is rich with complex characters—loved ones lost on both sides of this bloody conflict. Ali, the man who rapes and subjugates her, also saves her life several times—he is assassinated by his own subordinates. His family embraces Nemat with more affection and acceptance than her own, even fighting for her release after his death. Nemat returns home to feel a stranger: "They were terrified of the pain and horror of my past," she writes. She buries her memories for years, eventually escaping to Canada to begin a new life with Andre. Nemat offers her arresting, heartbreaking story of forgiveness, hope and enduring love—a voice for the untold scores silenced by Iran's revolution. (May)

Having left behind the life of ambition-driven associates at a large law firm, which he described in his memoir Double Billing, Stracher lives comfortably with his family in Westport, Conn. However, the two-hour commute into New York City, an 80-hour work-week split between two professions, and out-of-state travel begin to take their toll. When a shared meal of black bean burritos suddenly draws together his disparate family, Stracher pledges that rather than grubbing food from subway vendors or eating takeout in his office, he will dine with his family five nights a week and prepare half of the meals himself. He simmers, sautés and skewers gourmet dinners, only to be rebuffed by his two kids, who would rather eat boxed macaroni and cheese. Only later does Stracher take such rejection in stride, realizing that feeding a family is more than "refueling"; it includes "nourishing" them, too—physically and emotionally. In the meantime, he turns into "Mad Dad," an candid self-portrayal of a loving but frustrated father who yells and stomps and mopes, creating more tension than harmony. Stracher finally recognizes success when he notices that he is no longer just present for dinner with his family but an "essential ingredient." In the end, Stracher's is a sincere and witty account of his family and his struggle to get them to the table. (May)

Katharine Hepburn, who would have turned 100 in May this year, was known for doing things her own way. Her choices were famously unconventional—rejecting family life in favor of her career, living as Spencer Tracy's mistress for decades, wearing slacks instead of skirts. Convinced there are lessons here for modern women, journalist and novelist Karbo (Motherhood Made a Man Out of Me) decided to try to figure out how Hepburn made it all work. For instance, while Hepburn rejected marriage, perhaps she got everything she really wanted (love and companionship) without the baggage she didn't want (fights over doing the laundry or cooking dinner). Karbo acknowledges "you don't always have to know what you're getting into in order to succeed"; Hepburn knew that to "go forward blindly" often works just as well. Also, Hepburn found denial worked just fine, allowing her to ignore early criticism that she couldn't act or that she had a terrible voice. Karbo presents all this heterodox advice with great humor, but there's a point she's making to sister Gen-Xers: Hepburn broke all the rules women were supposed to follow and still had a fabulous life. (May)

Stand-up comic Gold won two Emmy Awards for writing and producing The Rosie O'Donnell Show. Teaming with playwright Ryan, Gold developed a one-woman show based on interviews conducted across America with more than 50 Jewish women of different ages and occupations. When Gold's 70-minute monologue became a sold-out hit at Montreal's Just for Laughs Festival, it was promoted as "a comic's personal journey to find love, laughter and acceptance as a Jewish mother with two kids and a nagging Jewish mother of her own." On stage, she created characters inspired by the interviews and wove in her own experiences, now expanded into this anecdotal autobiography. For Gold, there are no taboo topics. The 25 chapters range from "Have you ever experienced anti-Semitism?" and "Were you or any of your relatives affected by the Holocaust?" to "How many times a day do you call your children?" and "Why do you think Jewish mothers are the butt of so many jokes?" The q&a serves as a springboard for essays exploring her past, reflecting on everything from growing up in New Jersey to performing before hecklers. Her fluid writing, engaging and entertaining, balances between poignant and humorous memories. 25 cartoon illus. (May 1)

The scion of an illustrious—and fabulously eccentric—English literary dynasty referees four generations of father-son antagonisms in this scintillating family memoir. Waugh (God) focuses on the fraught relationship between his great-grandfather, prominent critic and publisher Arthur Waugh, and Arthur's son, the famous novelist Evelyn. Arthur was a hopeless Victorian who doted on his elder son Alec and warmly sentimentalized their family life and boarding school traditions, Evelyn was the disaffected black sheep who wallowed in drink, bisexual dissipation and modern cynicism. In contrast to Arthur's paternal overinvolvement, Evelyn tried hard to avoid his own children's company or, when contact was inescapable, to heap exquisitely refined derision on their heads. But while he found his seven-year-old son, Auberon, the author's father, to be "clumsy and disheveled, sly, without intellectual, aesthetic or spiritual interest," he managed to impart a legacy that emerged in Auberon's career as a notoriously acerbic columnist. Waugh often lets the diaries and letters of his compulsively self-documenting subjects carry the story, sprinkling in smarmy family anecdotes and his own color commentary. If this tome were merely an excuse to reprint some of Evelyn's hilarious jottings, it would be well worth the price, but it's also an absorbing study of how writers process their most painfully formative experiences. (May 29)

Stanton's story of the rivalry-turned-friendship of Ty Cobb (with the Detroit Tigers) and Babe Ruth (with the Red Sox and Yankees) is as splendid as a sunny spring day at the ballpark. Cobb held eight consecutive batting titles the first time he stepped up to hit against Ruth, whom Stanton (The Final Season) describes as "a platter-faced, gray flannelled 20-year-old" rookie pitcher in 1915. The two men were opposite in many ways—a Southern Baptist slap hitter versus the Northeastern Catholic home run king—and they would go on to become enemies who competed fiercely for 14 seasons, frequently taunting one another and almost coming to blows. Ruth usurped Cobb's title as the greatest player in baseball and eventually turned Cobb's distaste for him into respect. After retiring, they were among the first class inducted into the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown in 1939. Two years later, they met in a golf match that stoked their competitive fires one last time and cemented their friendship. Sportswriters regularly characterize baseball players as one-dimensional, either deities or demons, and no two players suffered this fate more than this pair. Cobb is often recalled as a short-tempered racist and dirty player, and Ruth cast as a beer-drinking, hot dog–eating simpleton, but Stanton portrays them sympathetically as exceptionally talented men with complex flaws. Stanton's writing is seamless, exploring the lives of both men but never lapsing into tedious detail. (May)

Lancaster (Bitter Is the New Black) is a plus-sized, downwardly mobile Republican. She makes fun of disabled people. She cracks nasty about Anna Nicole Smith (granted, she was still alive at the time). She annotates her text with footnotes cheering herself on. When she's feeling particularly mean, she writes in her own "pidgin Spanish." But in spite of all her politically incorrect rantings, there are times when Lancaster is just too on-target to ignore. People who worry about Bush imposing the Christian lifestyle on everyone, for instance, should take heart from how he's raised his daughters—those "twins are but a Jell-O shot away from starring in the presidential edition of Girls Gone Wild." Even if readers can't altogether sympathize when Lancaster has to downscale her shopping "Holy Trinity" from Bloomingdale's, Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus to IKEA, Target and Trader Joe's—they know what she means when she talks about the relentlessly cheerful sales staff at Trader Joe's, the tough-love staff at Target or how IKEA's going to take over America by keeping us all busy with Allen wrenches. Her humor is a bit like junk food—something you can enjoy when no one is looking. (May)

Texas teacher Vega's horrific account of her lifetime of self-abuse alternates between an intimate diary of pain and a healing dialogue with her counselor. In piecemeal details of her years growing up the eldest daughter of an ambitious, well-educated disciplinarian father and an efficient caretaker mother, Vega portrays herself as a child so eager to please her exacting parents that she began to punish herself for her perceived (by them, but mainly by herself) shortcomings. She would hit herself until she passed out, and cut or starve herself to cause a punishing pain that allowed a release to anger and frustration she was not allowed to express. Her mother's diabetes, her parents' divorce and abandonment by her father led to mounds of guilt, and Vega's abuse of diet pills put her in the emergency room. By the time she seeks therapy she is in her mid-30s, married and no longer able to control her increasingly dire self-mutilation. Her work is cleanly wrought and raw with emotion, especially the passages that take place during group therapy with several other deeply troubled women. There is much to Vega's story that is left unsaid, though her aim is admirable and true: to share her story so that kindred readers will seek help. (May)

For 12 years, Jordan (aka Dishwasher Pete) tramped about the U.S. washing dishes. Despite a survey of 740 occupations in which "dishwasher ranked #735," Jordan, then in his mid-30s, sees the inherent benefits of the job: downtime in between meals, free food (and beer), being able to quit at a moment's notice and an abundance of similar opportunities all over the country. The writing is lucid and earnest, and Jordan's passion for dishwashing and, even more so, for blowing-in-the-wind traveling, is infectious. As his quest extends from one year to the next, and he questions the worthiness of his goal to "bust suds" in all 50 states, he demonstrates an ability to convey his deepest fears without losing the upbeat, fun tone that pervades the entire memoir. What does hurt this rather lengthy book's pacing is that every dishwashing job (save a few) is pretty much the same, and the descriptions can get as repetitive as a wash cycle. Still, Jordan's knowledge of famous dishwashers (Gerald Ford, Little Richard, etc.) and dishwashers' roles in creating unions adds a substance that juxtaposes nicely with the author's slacker lifestyle. (May)

In the economic boom of the mid-1990s, Gross was a corporate lawyer working nonstop for a Wall Street law firm. Miserable, his life "a prison of routine," he instantly accepts his friend's proposal to revive the legendary motorcycle company Ducati Motor Holding in Bologna, Italy. Equipped with only a backpack and the basic knowledge of how to ride a motorcycle, Gross meets a wacky array of fellow employees, learns about Bolognese life and feels the thrill of the open road. His book is filled with insight on the city and corporate color, especially the chapters devoted to his co-workers, who include the World War II–obsessed company historian and the volatile, eccentric chief of design. But aside from his tumultuous affair with a skinhead mama's boy and his birth as a rider, Gross is a passing character in his own memoir. Amid all of the personalities and business chaos, he doesn't establish a consistent connection with the reader. Years pass in his narrative, and outside of some discotheque activities and buddy-buddy revelry, the swirl of triumph and fear accompanying a major, life-changing decision is absent. In examining Italian corporate and social culture, Gross (who has written for Time and the New York Times) has done a solid job; the lack of a personality behind the observations, however, is a liability. (May)

It's not easy to write something fresh about the oft-researched and dissected works and life of Ernest Hemingway. But thanks to an awful lot of investigation into the unpublished materials from the Charles Scribner's Sons Archive at Princeton University and the Ernest Hemingway Collection at the John F. Kennedy Library, Trogdon, a Hemingway scholar and professor at Kent State University, sheds some new light on some old works. Based primarily on letters written by Hemingway and his Scribner's editor, Maxwell Perkins, this book casts a discerning eye on both Hemingway's writing process as well as the business of book publishing from the perspectives of the author and the publisher. After Maxwell brought Hemingway to Scribner's at the urging of F. Scott Fitzgerald, the two fell into a solid working relationship. As Hemingway developed an idea, Maxwell used praise and deadlines to push the process along. Though Maxwell gave snippets of advice on character development and plot points, Trogdon's research shows that Maxwell did little editing when it came to Hemingway's prose, as most of their correspondence shows that the editor's main concerns were changing " 'objectionable words'" and veiled references to real people to protect his author from suppression and libel. Though the book is dense with quotations, Trogdon writes straightforward, unaffected prose. (May)

From this essential guidebook's opening sentence—"Bad things can happen on email"—Shipley and Schwalbe make all too clear what can go wrong. E-mail's ubiquity, with casual and formal correspondence jumbled in the same inbox, makes misunderstandings common; e-mail's inexpressive, text-only format doesn't help. Given its brief history, there's no established etiquette for usage, which is why this primer is so valuable. It promises the reader hope of becoming more efficient and less annoying, reducing danger of a career-ending blunder. Brisk, practical and witty, the book aims to improve the reader's skills as sender and recipient: devising effective subject lines and exploring "the politics of the cc"; how to steer clear of legal issues; and how to recognize different types of attachments. Using real-life examples from flame wars and awkward exchanges (including their own), Shipley and Schwalbe (op-ed editor of the New York Times and Hyperion Books' editor-in-chief) explain why people so often say "incredibly stupid things" in their outgoing messages. "Email has a tendency to encourage the lesser angels of our nature," they note. They also offer "seven big reasons to love email," along with quick guides to instant messaging and e-mail technology, all the while urging us to "think before [we] send." (Apr.)

With the self-deprecating humor and forgiving but no-nonsense attitude familiar to anyone with friends in AA, Woodroof, an NPR reporter and recovering alcoholic and drug abuser, gives readers "mystified by some aspect of [their] own behavior" step-by-step instructions for pulling their lives together. She calls the 12 steps "a proven way for those of us who keep screwing up to develop a healthy thinking and living process," and devotes a chapter to each step, advising readers on how to accept their own screwups; admit that they "can't quit doing it on their own"; nurture their belief in, and communication with, the God of their understanding; tell the truth, to themselves and others; expect quiet "miracles of change"; and "welcome serenity." She supports her advice with stories from her own life, mingling the funny and quirky (Woodroof calls her God "Alice") with encouragement and inspiration. The book's message is valid, but Woodroof's naïve dismissal of the efficacy of other methods to solve difficult psychological problems undermines her credibility, and she never mentions the important social-support function that meetings serve in 12 Step programs. Nevertheless, the book will be helpful to people who are comfortable with exploring a God-centered method of finding inner peace. (Apr.)

This book of 57 large-format b&w photographs is a deeply felt tribute to the Great Marsh, 70 miles of salt marsh stretching along the coast of Massachusetts from Cape Ann to New Hampshire. In the informative accompanying essay, writer Stewart states: "Marshes are often dismissed as vaguely malevolent wastelands, muddy, messy, and bug-infested, suitable only for draining." But "for those with the patience to experience its rhythms and subtle beauties, a salt marsh is both bracing and peaceful, spectacular and placid, mysterious and majestic." Monnelly, a third-generation native of Ipswich, Mass., beautifully captures the spacious tranquility of her subject in images of a single oak leaf lying on a round mass of rough grasses near the rippling stillness of a tidal stream or sparkling garlands of spider webs hung across misty meadow grasses. But her eye extends beyond nature documentation to more painterly, abstract visions: the grainy rhythms of wave-washed sand at Crane Beach and huge tree shadows falling across partly melted and powdery snow. An active defender of this fragile ecosystem, Monnelly says,"I'm not an ecologist. Photography is my strongest voice. It's the best way for me to advocate for this landscape." (Apr.)

Photographer and bird lover Burt has had a love affair with marshes since childhood, and this book portrays, in words and photographs, his romantically tinged tour of North American marshlands and his take on how they've changed since the early explorer-naturalists first found them. He begins by revisiting Great Island in Connecticut, in which he wandered as a child, and finds it endangered by an invasive reed that's threatening not only this diverse ecosystem, but much of the East Coast marshland, including his next stop, Maryland's huge Elliot Island marsh. He finds the marshes of Texas "ditched and diked and neatly edged, like so many fish farms." Those of Louisiana are bursting with birds in the west, but trash-littered in the east. Marshes in the western U.S., described rapturously by 19th-century birders, but "reclaimed" by agricultural development and rebuilt as square ponds to service migrating birds, are a deep disappointment, but a side trip to a pristine five-mile-wide salt marsh in New Jersey is an intriguing surprise. Burt's florid language is sometimes tiring, but his intimate portraits of birds—particularly the bittern, guarding eggs in salt hay with enormous tail feathers spread and peeking curiously through reeds, or its fluffy chicks screaming for food—show where his talents and his heart lie. 92 color photos. (Apr.)

Published in conjunction with a 2006 exhibition at Paris's La Maison Européenne de la Photographie, this selection of images from the collection of Anna Rosa and Giovanni Cotroneo showcases the breadth and scope of contemporary Italian photography. Among the 20 photographers included, several artists stand out. Raffaela Martinello's black-and-white images of nocturnal urban landscapes summon a sense of modern urban solitude. Franco Fontana's urban landscapes, by contrast, evoke an altogether more energetic universe, as he isolates individual elements of street scenes and emphasizes their dramatic and contrasting colors. While the Cotroneos have an impressive collection of urban landscapes, their taste also encompasses many other genres, including some striking photojournalism. Ferdinando Scianna, a Magnum photojournalist, has an uncanny knack of drawing the viewer's focus to the remarkable eyes of his subjects, whether they are models or Italian peasants. Even the most familiar work in the collection merits a fresh glance. Mario Giacomelli's oft-reproduced photos of priests frolicking in the snow, shot from above, are not simply exercises in form; they showcase a variety of personalities and idiosyncrasies within a supposedly uniform group. From political reportage to portraiture to abstract still life, this catalogue offers fans of contemporary Italian photography a wide spectrum of distinctive images. (Apr.)

Ethridge, bestselling author of the Every Woman's Battle series, begins this book on God's limitless love by recounting the horrific moment when she accidentally killed a woman while behind the wheel. Ethridge's vivid memory of the sorrow she caused as a new teen driver doesn't stop at the tragedy's harrowing details but focuses on the amazingly gracious forgiveness and affirmation she received from the victim's spouse. So sets the stage for this guide where Ethridge uses generous portions of scripture to convince doubt-ridden, wounded women of their intrinsic worth to God. To demonstrate, she draws upon the spiritual metaphor of a love relationship: falling in love, a tender proposal, the forsaking of all others, love languages, wedding surprises and the tossing of the bouquet. Particularly poignant is when she shares her personal epiphany that God had transformed her greatest stumbling block—that of her previous sexual sins—into the vehicle for demonstrating how God had changed her. Ethridge challenges women to accept the "wedding" gifts from a loving God who offers redemption from the past, resurrection power for today and a heavenly home in eternity. While the book is engaging and soulful, many of Ethridge's personal accounts have been published elsewhere and might feel stale to some loyal readers. (June 19)

It is no insult to this occasionally moralizing humorist and Quaker pastor to say that he is a smalltown raconteur who writes tales tailor-made for readers who would never dream of living in one. In the compilation of anecdotes, recollections, riffs and barely disguised homilies that constitute his 14th book, Gulley, best known for his Harmony novels as well as theological ruminations like If Grace Is True, skillfully mines his personal history and that of his neighbors for inspirational morsels. Family, friends, faith, community and even current events figure in meditations that span such topics as the architecture of his home, the virtues of intellectual inconsistency, his wife's passion for exercise and healthy eating, and whether it is indeed possible to have too many friends. While not afraid to be provocative on controversial subjects like creationism or politics, Gulley's general tone is straightforward, whimsical and irenic. One often wishes that he would spend more time with a particular topic, instead of giving it glancing attention before moving on. But urban readers who imbibe their literature with their lattes will find him as refreshing as do those who actually create the tapestry of homespun life Gulley so unpretentiously chronicles. (June)

Normal isn't a word that makes sense to Kent, a bestselling author and speaker whose only son murdered his wife's ex-husband in 1999 to protect his stepdaughters from suspected abuse. Kent's previous book, When I Lay My Isaac Down, powerfully recounted her family's dramatic and wrenching story of placing their son's life sentence and their shattered future dreams on God's altar as the biblical Abraham did with his son Isaac. Kent's latest writing continues this harrowing story of rebuilding life where no "normal" exists; where holidays and Sundays are spent in prison visitation lines, and where pleas for leniency go unheard. Kent and her spouse employ dynamic journal entries and soulful personal stories to recount the ongoing, sometimes debilitating, journey to hold fast to God's hope despite dismal circumstances. Kent's inner ache is transparent and her pain raw, yet she delves into trusting God when despair is overwhelming, relief is beyond reach, privacy is no option, and loss overpowers all other emotions. In the midst of the pain—more in spite of it—the Kents choose hope, every day, every hour. This is their message of triumph to all Christians who suffer yet continue to hold fast to God's promised provision. (June)

The latest volume in the Christian Practice of Everyday Life Series (What About Hitler? etc.) explores the tension between Christian ethical imperatives and the anxieties of the post-9/11 world. Bader-Saye, who is an associate professor of theology and religious studies at the University of Scranton, is primarily concerned with the impact that these anxieties are having on the practices of hospitality, peacemaking and generosity. Acknowledging that many of our fears are well grounded, he believes that the best way Christians can reclaim their ethical heritage is by pooling their risk at the local level. He cites Taizé, the ecumenical French monastery, as an example of how pooled risk can counteract typical 21st-century fears and calls the practice of hospitality a "parable of courage in community." Anxiety and despair can also be opposed, he believes, through reclamation of God as providential parent. He writes, "Providence, at its heart, has to do with the conviction that our lives and our world constitute a coherent story, a drama, in which God and humankind, together, drive the story toward its proper conclusion." While some Christian groups may feel a certain obviousness to what he has to say, many, especially the mainline denominations, can learn much from this cogently argued and elegantly written volume. (June)

Between 400 and 1200 C.E., a group of rabbis expounded on the text of the Bible, making it relevant to their times and to subsequent readers. This extensive collection of explanations and interpretations is known collectively as Midrash. Sasso, the second woman ever ordained as a rabbi, considers Midrash "both a product, a body of literature... and a process... that continues to the present day" and has assembled a themed collection of text, extrapolations and guided self-evaluation in the hopes that more people will see not only how the ancients still speak to us but how our own experiences make us writers of Midrash as well. Her brief history of the practice and depiction of the four-fold method used for approaching a particular text provides a good starting point for newcomers. However, while she admits to choosing certain portions regarding rejection, anger and repentance because they're "part of [her] story" and advocates taking ownership of the narratives as they apply in present times, she, for the most part, shares very little of herself or her reasons for selecting these themes. Despite her best efforts to excite a new audience to this tradition, the finished product feels disappointingly more like a series of lessons or sermons cobbled together. (June)

In his spiritual autobiography, Foreman writes, "I have God in my corner." He hopes the readers who take to heart his "tips from George's corner," found at the end of each chapter, will, too. In this book—part autobiography and largely a testimonial and spiritual inspiration—Foreman, well-known heavyweight boxing champion, businessman and preacher, leads readers through steps for living a godly Christian life. His book gives some autobiographical details, including his younger years, a few stories of his fights and most powerfully his experience of being born again after a boxing match he lost to Jimmy Young. Those stories serve to illustrate his theology, covered in short chapters that read like sermons. He exhorts readers to inspire others to excellence, answer the door when opportunity knocks, close it when temptation knocks, advance through adversity and so on. Foreman credits God with his remarkable successes throughout the book and ends it with an altar call, inviting readers to meet him in heaven someday. Non-Christian boxing fans probably won't find enough about boxing or Foreman, but evangelical Christians who admire Foreman's many good works will find the book inspirational. (May 22)

Pughe, a psychotherapist and interfaith minister, and Sohl, a Presbyterian elder, argue for reflection on "the repression of women and the feminine as the motivating force behind [Christian] fundamentalist and dominionist dogma." Pughe and Sohl were both raised within a Christian fundamentalist worldview, attended Calvin College together, and later threw off the bonds of what they consider fundamentalist Christian oppression. Up front is an astute analysis of the Christian right's political attitude about "a woman's place," and an equally well-done reinterpretation of Eve, as the title would suggest. But Christian readers may balk once Pughe and Sohl reveal that the remainder of their project ties feminist Christianity to the seven chakras. Even as they weave an Eastern, New Age flair into a Christian understanding of the body, sexual orientation and love, Pughe and Sohl never stray from a biblical foundation. Yet whether they will persuade their main audience, "women who have had direct experience of Christian fundamentalism," to try out transformative rituals such as the "Cocoon" (which requires listening to music in the fetal position) or the "Blood Ritual" (which involves touching female genitalia while bathing) is doubtful. Perhaps only those who, like the authors, have already jettisoned the Christian fundamentalist worldview will be ready to take the leap of faith that Pughe and Sohl advocate. (May)

Peters, professor of Middle Eastern and Islamic studies at NYU and author of The Children of Abraham, lucidly explains how Jewish, Christian and Muslim communities understand and interact with their sacred texts—the Tanakh, the Bible and the Qur'an. Unsurprisingly, he opens with discussions of authorship and canonization: who wrote the books, how did the sacred texts achieve their final form, and how do religious authorities discern what counts as "the Word of God"? He also takes up the question of translation, elucidating the theology that underlies the Islamic belief that "a translated Qur'an is not really a Qur'an." But the truly fascinating sections of the book investigate quirkier topics, such as the different religions' regulations about the conditions under which people are allowed to handle sacred books. One of the most interesting chapters addresses the relationship between art and text, examining how various scribes and calligraphers have illustrated holy books; Peters makes an intriguing claim about the Qur'an, suggesting that despite Islamic insistence that the meaning of the text lies solely in the words, "Qur'anic decoration"—geometric and floral imagery—may "add another layer of meaning." This is undoubtedly one of the best single volumes on the history of sacred text in the Abrahamic faiths, and many readers will find it an invaluable resource. (May)

Pope John Paul II was one of the most visible and influential figures of the late 20th century. He is credited with helping bring down communism, for popularizing the Solidarity movement in Poland and for advancing the devotion of the Virgin Mary, who he claimed interceded to save him from an assassination attempt in the early 1980s. According to investigative journalist Yallop, this is hardly the whole story about the late pontiff. Yallop paints a portrait of a pope who centralized authority as much as possible, quashed any sign of disobedience or rebellion within the Catholic Church and, while lambasting Catholics for getting involved in politics, was just as much a political figure as a religious one. The author seems to enjoy shooting holes in John Paul II's character, tarnishing many of the embellished stories that the pope's fans hold dear. Yallop has done exhaustive research for this project, but his journalistic objectivity is sometimes placed aside—clearly no fan of John Paul II, he posits quasiconspiracy theories about Vatican coverups and behind-the-scenes backstabbing. Still, the book also offers useful information that brings out the complex realities of the Catholic hierarchy and the papacy's role in world affairs. (May)

Crystal meth, the Catholic church, leather bars, Jesus, a psychiatric ward, falling T-cell counts, terrifying visions—these are just some of the topics in this collection of blogs, personal journals and newspaper columns from 2003 and 2004. Perez, now 37, came out during his senior year at Harvard, lost his brother to AIDS a year later and tested HIV-positive at age 24. Raised Catholic, he suffered addiction and psychosis as he tried to reconcile his gayness and his hunger for religious experience. Then he discovered the books of Ken Wilber, a leader in the Integral Movement, and for the first time thought he had found a way to reconcile his warring drives; much of the book explains the philosophy of Wilber (who pens the foreword) and that of his follower Jim Marion. Bloglike, Perez's account leaps from memoir to book review to exposition to interview. Perhaps his most successful entries are his psychedelic descriptions of madness: his breakdown in his late 20s, his mystical experiences in the hospital, his nightmares as psychosis returned. This is an arresting record of a soul in progress, but readers who come for the story may leave during the lectures. (May)

Although limited in scope, this examination of convent life paints a detailed and in-depth portrait of the women who led mostly hidden lives of work and prayer between the late 15th and early 18th centuries. Evangelisti, a lecturer in early modern history at the University of East Anglia in Norwich, England, tells how nuns of this period engaged in such creative pursuits as writing, music, the visual arts and theater. Some even wrote spirited defenses of their gender, confronting the prevailing view of women as less than men (although at least one of these—Teresa of Ávila—had her words on the subject censored from the published version of The Way of Perfection). Evangelisti also deals with a darker side of convent life: that of women being forced by their families to become nuns because of the few opportunities available to women of that time. Yet she points out that, for others, becoming a nun was a suitable alternative to marriage. She shows as well how women inside the convent walls challenged church restrictions of that era requiring them to live in cloisters. Many sought to go outside to perform charitable and other acts of service, developing new models that would allow such work. Evangelisti's readable, meticulously researched account should be of special interest to feminists and students of church history. (May)

[Signature]

Reviewed by Nina Planck

Michael Pollan is the crack investigator and graceful narrator of the ecology of local food and the toxic logic of industrial agriculture. Now he has a peer. Novelist Kingsolver recounts a year spent eating home-grown food and, if not that, local. Accomplished gardeners, the Kingsolver clan grow a large garden in southern Appalachia and spend summers "putting food by," as the classic kitchen title goes. They make pickles, chutney and mozzarella; they jar tomatoes, braid garlic and stuff turkey sausage. Nine-year-old Lily runs a heritage poultry business, selling eggs and meat. What they don't raise (lamb, beef, apples) comes from local farms. Come winter, they feast on root crops and canned goods, menus slouching toward asparagus. Along the way, the Kingsolver family, having given up industrial meat years before, abandons its vegetarian ways and discovers the pleasures of conscientious carnivory.

This field—local food and sustainable agriculture—is crowded with books in increasingly predictable flavors: the earnest manual, diary of an epicure, the environmental battle cry, the accidental gardener. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is all of these, and much smarter. Kingsolver takes the genre to a new literary level; a well-paced narrative and the apparent ease of the beautiful prose makes the pages fly. Her tale is both classy and disarming, substantive and entertaining, earnest and funny. Kingsolver is a moralist ("the conspicuous consumption of limited resources has yet to be accepted widely as a spiritual error, or even bad manners"), but more often wry than pious. Another hazard of the genre is snobbery. You won't find it here. Seldom do paeans to heirloom tomatoes (which I grew up selling at farmers' markets) include equal respect for outstanding modern hybrids like Early Girl.

Kingsolver has the ear of a journalist and the accuracy of a naturalist. She makes short, neat work of complex topics: what's risky about the vegan diet, why animals belong on ecologically sound farms, why bitterness in lettuce is good. Kingsolver's clue to help greenhorns remember what's in season is the best I've seen. You trace the harvest by botanical development, from buds to fruits to roots.

Kingsolver is not the first to note our national "eating disorder" and the injuries industrial agriculture wreaks, yet this practical vision of how we might eat instead is as fresh as just-picked sweet corn. The narrative is peppered with useful sidebars on industrial agriculture and ecology (by husband Steven Hopp) and recipes (by daughter Camille), as if to show that local food—in the growing, buying, cooking, eating and the telling—demands teamwork. (May)

Nina Planck is the author of Real Food: What to Eat and Why (Bloomsbury USA, 2006).