Nonfiction Reviews: Week of 10/29/2007

In this absorbing account, Amalia Bagnacavalli’s tale is a horrific one. An impoverished Italian peasant in the late 19th century, Amalia was hired as a wet nurse and contracted syphilis from the infant assigned her by a Bologna foundling home. She in turn spread the disease to her husband and their baby daughter and sons. Her plight was common, Kertzer notes, in a Europe plagued for centuries by poverty, prostitution, venereal disease and legal-religious mores that forced unwed mothers to give up their newborns to institutions where they would be nursed by strangers. But Amalia took the very modern step of suing the foundling home and its aristocratic board, helped by a young lawyer eager to impose a scientific, bureaucratically controlled regimen on an antiquated welfare system. Amalia’s court victory over the Italian medical establishment was no feel-good triumph of justice: her lawyer screwed her out of every penny of the huge settlement she won, and the system of bottle-feeding prompted by her suit killed most of the foundlings subjected to it. Like Kertzer’s much-praised The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara, Amalia’s story is a rich social history, in which new values clash with old in an Italy wracked by the fitful march of progress. (Mar. 6)

Morris (Game of Inches) explores the earliest days of baseball through the voices of players and journalists who wrote about it in the 27-year period in the mid-19th century before professional baseball emerged. The earliest versions of bat-and-ball games—some of the variants are “town ball,” “wicket” and even “patch ball”—were eventually displaced and standardized in 1845 when the Knickerbocker Club of New York City published rules that eliminated such practices as throwing the ball and hitting a base runner (an act sometimes known as “soaking”) to make an out. The text is an intriguing study for students of baseball history curious about how aspects of the game developed, such as the foul ball, sliding, balls and strikes, and the role of the umpire. As the game spread from its origins in New York and its popularity grew, Morris writes that two factors brought the pioneer era of amateur play to an end: the Civil War and the increasing seriousness of players who changed games from ceremonial pastime to cutthroat competitions. Morris has done vast research and quotes many of his sources at length. His focus on a detailed account of baseball’s development, however, does not provide much insight into the people who played the game. (Mar.)

Moore (In the Cut; One Last Look), born in Hawai’i to a mother plagued by mental illness, recalls the two salvations of her childhood—the sea and books. Lying in the shade of a coconut grove that was said to have been planted by the king in the 19th century, she read Robinson Crusoe, Moby-Dick, Treasure Island, To the Lighthouse. She relished passages about the sea, copying her favorites into her journal and eventually excerpting them here. In her own life as well as her voyages through literature, she knew the sea as a playmate, a menace, a protector and an undertaker. In her youth in the 1950s and ’60s, just before jet air travel brought mass tourism to the state, the mysteries of islands dotting the waters awed her, as did the alluring mishmash of cultures and classes (Moore’s family were members of the haole elite). Now an island dweller of another sort—a New Yorker—she mourns losing her beloved southern seas, once-constant companions for which the Atlantic is no substitute. Moore’s premise is intriguing, and her prose elegant, with quick, vivid sketches of her island girlhood; however, with the inclusion of well over 30 passages of seafarers’ musings from canon literature, Moore’s memoir makes for an excerpt-heavy read that’s regrettably light on her personal vision. (Mar.)

In her debut memoir, Klam chronicles the clash between her privileged upbringing and the real-world problems she faced as an adult. Growing up as the “princess” in a 1970s Bedford, N.Y., house with two brothers, Klam recounts her childhood as a series of shopping trips with her extravagant mother, often at the expense of her education. With her parents as an emotional and financial safety net, Klam’s transition from coddled child to independent woman is anything but smooth. She falls in love with film at New York University, but spends several aimless years trying halfheartedly to find a job in her field. Her life takes a turn for the better when she lands a job writing pop-up videos for VH1 and eventually marries the show’s producer, Paul Leo. When a series of health and financial problems rock the couple’s relationship, Klam struggles to find her footing in a world where her actions have real consequences. The reader desperately wants to identify with Klam, but while her hardships are real and often heartbreaking (with flashes of sardonic wit), the voice is too infused with self-pity to earn empathy. (Mar.)

In this memoir of a decade spent in foster care, Bridge illuminates the horrors of a system that, in its clumsy attempts to save children, he argues, all too frequently condemns them to physical and emotional abuse. The child of a teenage mother who divorced her abusive husband soon after Bridge was born, he watched helplessly as his mother disintegrated under the impact of isolation and poverty. At the age of seven, Bridge was dragged away from his mother, literally, by police and warehoused in an enormous California juvenile facility patrolled by armed guards. The state eventually transferred him to a foster family dominated by an obese, bullying Estonian woman who had survived imprisonment in Dachau as a child. At 17, as he prepared to leave foster care for college and freedom, Bridge finally had a reunion with the mother he never stopped missing. In his narration of this unending nightmare, Bridge shows particular skill in portraying his isolation and the defenses he constructed to survive it. He also has a talent for grotesques, particularly that of the monstrous foster mother who revisited the misery of her upbringing on her foster children. Bridge’s obsessive focus on his loneliness and his two “mothers” is so intense that a more balanced picture of his life fails to emerge and his attachment to another foster child remains unexplained. Yet Bridge, a Harvard Law School graduate who has devoted his career to children’s rights, has provided remarkable insights into a dark corner of American society. (Feb.)

It was 1975, and nine-year-old Flynn was sitting with her mother on the floor of their San Francisco apartment with a pile of money as her mother explained that the “faces of these men on the coins and bills in front of us... had impact on people and events.” Flynn’s father had moved out a year earlier; her two sisters were at school, where she, too, should have been; instead, her mother needed to talk with her about all those faces on the money. This is how Flynn, a writing instructor at the University of Minnesota, begins her elegantly written story of how her mother had been an adventurous bohemian in the 1950s and ’60s, before she became unhinged by what was later diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenia. Family life became bizarrely unpredictable as her mother became attached to stranger and stranger notions. After her father moved out, “mother laid out the new terms of our lives... staying inside, and cutting all our ties to other people... careful about what we ate, and what we wore.” Readers begin to share Flynn’s “sense of dread” about what her mother might do next, heightened by the disturbingly controlled calm of her narration. (Feb.)

While one might think that the films discussed in this book have been thoroughly plumbed (The Graduate; Bonnie and Clyde; In the Heat of the Night; Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?), Entertainment Weekly writer Harris offers his take in this thorough and engaging narrative. Instead of simply retelling old war stories about the production of these five Best Picture nominees at the 1968 Oscars, Harris tells a much wider story. Hollywood was on the brink of obsolescence throughout the 1960s as it faced artistic competition from European art films and financial implosion due to an outdated production system and rising budgets. Harris doesn’t shy away from complexity in favor of easy answers, and the personalities that he profiles—among them Sidney Poitier, Mike Nichols, Warren Beatty and Richard Zanuck—are certainly worthy of the three dimensional approach. Harris also peppers his narrative with moments that capture the rising cultural tide that broke in the late ’60s: chipping away at the moralistic Production Code, and Hollywood’s inconsistent engagement with the Civil Rights movement are continuous sources of interest throughout this fascinating book. (Feb.)

Belts aren’t meant to hold up pants, according to Freeman, deputy fashion editor at the British newspaper the Guardian; belts are “superfluous” additions to outfits that help cinch a waist or make one appear thinner. In her witty and acerbic debut book, Freeman notes what designer bags say about their owner (Fendi is for the “well-groomed” lady); the messages different hemlines can send (“super short miniskirts will have men whistling Roy Orbison’s greatest hit at you”); and the trouble with the “unnecessary distraction” patterns provide. Her short chapters come at random as Freeman takes a haphazard approach to the fashion world by organizing her book alphabetically—which leads to some confusion as there are six separate chapters dealing with footwear. Her most convincing chapters expose the problems with the fashion industry, such as the unrealistic body image models like Kate Moss present. Readers plagued with indecision concerning what blouse is best or what jean style fits their body type can turn to Freeman, who doesn’t pull her punches (ethnic clothes, like a pastel beach caftan, are “offensive”; mittens are “childlike”; and animal prints “embarrassingly obvious”). (Feb.)

McCartney (Friends in High Places: The Bechtel Story) does an efficient job of narrating 20th-century America’s first great federal corruption scandal. Petroleum preserves (or domes) were set aside on public lands in California and Wyoming, to be kept until needed by the navy. During 1921, President Harding’s secretary of the interior, Albert Fall, took control of the lands from Secretary of the Navy Edwin Denby and leased two domes—Teapot Dome in Wyoming and California’s Elk Hills—to Harry Sinclair’s Mammoth Oil Co. and Edward Doheny’s Pan-American Petroleum and Transport Co., respectively. Concurrently, Fall received personal payments from the two men totaling $404,000, some of which he distributed to underlings who helped with the transactions. Scandal ensued, continuing through the presidency of Harding’s successor, Calvin Coolidge. Congressional investigations were held; Coolidge appointed special prosecutors, and in 1929 a federal court found Fall guilty of bribery, fining him $100,000 and sentencing him to a year in prison. Though McCartney adds nothing new to the story, he has a solid grasp of it in this retelling. (Feb. 5)

Important people caught in a jam—Bill Clinton embroiled in the Paula Jones lawsuit, Judith Miller facing jail time for contempt, Paul Wolfowitz battling ethics charges at the World Bank—often hire superlawyer Bennett to represent them. In this self-satisfied memoir, Bennett (a partner at the white-shoe firm Skadden, Arps) pays effusive tribute to friends and colleagues, proffers nuggets of wisdom to young attorneys (“While you should overprepare your cases, you should always under try them,” i.e., keep the presentation simple) and ferociously defends his clients’ reputations in rehashes of their cases. But his most zealous advocacy is for his brilliant lawyering, evidenced by courtroom proceedings that the author excerpts at great length. Alas, in print, lawyerly histrionics become rambling, turgid improvisations that try the reader’s patience: “Your Honor, I don’t look like Alice [in Wonderland]... but I somehow feel like I am. I’m perplexed as she was. I’m concerned as she was. There are things that just don’t fit together for me.” What does come through is the preening self-regard (“Had I been younger and less experienced, I might have been intimidated meeting one on one with the president”) of an archetypal Washington mover-and-shaker. (Feb.)

Nicholl, winner of a Hawthornden Prize for Arthur Rimbaud in Africa, re-creates the physical and cultural circumstances of the two-year period of 1603–1605 when Shakespeare, around 40 and at the peak of his profession, was a lodger in the home of a sexually lax Huguenot family who provided raw material for All’s Well That Ends Well and other works. At the center of events is a 1612 lawsuit about a dowry unpaid by Shakespeare’s former London landlord to his son-in-law. The landlord, Christopher Mountjoy, despite his success as a maker of women’s decorative headwear, was a stingy man who withheld his daughter’s dowry; after his wife’s death, he was censured by church elders for fathering two bastards by his maid. Shakespeare may have played a larger role in the drama, persuading the reluctant bridegroom, who was Mountjoy’s apprentice, to marry the daughter in the first place. While details of early Jacobean London are atmospheric, placing Shakespearean works into historical context, Nicholl’s determination to sort out the biographical truths in Shakespeare’s plays waxes tedious, and only the Bard’s cultish devotees will care about the minutiae of headgear and wigs or the Mountjoy lawsuit. For the rest, it’s much ado about nothing. 36 illus. (Feb. 4)

Many women experience a fluid sexual desire that is responsive to a person rather then a specific gender, argues Diamond n this fascinating and certain to be controversial study. Diamond, associate professor of psychology and gender studies at the University of Utah, is best when detailing, with vivid examples, how scientific studies of sexual desire and behavior have focused on the experience of men, for whom the heterosexual/homosexual divide seems mostly fixed. Diamond says traditional labels for sexual desire are inadequate; for some women even “bisexual” does not truly express the protean nature of their sexuality. Diamond details in accessible and nuanced language her own study of 100 young women (by her own admission not “fully representative”) over a period of 10 years. She says that she is “calling for an expanded understanding of same-sex sexuality” that could radically affect both LGBT activists who hold that sexual identity is fixed and antigay groups who believe sexuality is chosen. Sexual fluidity involves a mix of internal and external factors, but is not, Diamond emphasizes, a matter of conscious choice, and she speculates that a younger generation that views sexuality as personal rather than political might embrace this less rigid view. (Feb.)

With her freshman book, law professor Polikoff, who has taught, litigated and written about family law, civil procedure and sexuality for more than 30 years, deftly argues that the law’s narrow definitions of “family” and “marriage” no longer work in today’s society—not just for the LGBT community but the country at large. With many households following untraditional family models, Polikoff says, we need to look at ways the law can change to value all families beyond those created by marriage, including same and different-sexed, married and unmarried couples. Polikoff draws on legal history and contemporary (often eye-opening) court cases to make her argument. Topics such as inheritance, tax consequences, workers’ compensation death benefits, social security, probate, adoption and health care, plus their impact the diversity of today’s “family units” are simplified for the reader. Polikoff wades through legislation and legalese with style and substance, plus a touch of flair. Impeccably researched, the book offers an evocative read that takes in the full breadth of the issues affecting marriages and avoids pedantry while remaining persuasive. (Feb.)

Fish paleontologist Shubin illuminates the subject of evolution with humor and clarity in this compelling look at how the human body evolved into its present state. Parsing the millennia-old genetic history of the human form is a natural project for Shubin, who chairs the department of organismal biology and anatomy at the University of Chicago and was co-discoverer of Tiktaalik, a 375-million-year-old fossil fish whose flat skull and limbs, and finger, toe, ankle and wrist bones, provide a link between fish and the earliest land-dwelling creatures. Shubin moves smoothly through the anatomical spectrum, finding ancient precursors to human teeth in a 200-million-year-old fossil of the mouse-size “part animal, part reptile” tritheledont; he also notes cellular similarities between humans and sponges. Other fossils reveal the origins of our senses, from the eye to that “wonderful Rube Goldberg contraption” the ear. Shubin excels at explaining the science, making each discovery an adventure, whether it’s a Pennsylvania roadcut or a stony outcrop beset by polar bears and howling Arctic winds. “I can imagine few things more beautiful or intellectually profound than finding the basis for our humanity... nestled inside some of the most humble creatures that ever lived,” he writes, and curious readers are likely to agree. Illus. (Jan. 15)

At age 70, Susan Sontag was diagnosed with a virulent form of blood cancer, her third bout with cancer over the course of 30 years and one she would not win. Her son, journalist Rieff (At the Point of a Gun), accompanied her through her final illness and death, and offers an extraordinarily open, moving account of the trial and journey. Sontag’s “avidity” for life had prompted her to beat the advanced breast cancer that devastated her in 1975; she now resolved to fight the statistical odds of dying from myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS), despite the pessimistic prognosis from doctors. Rieff, who admits he was not close to his mother over the preceding decade, is silenced by Sontag’s refusal to reconcile herself to dying and unable to console her. Both mother and son are by turns angered by doctors’ infantilizing treatment of terminally ill patients and by their squelching of hope. Anxious, chronically unhappy and obsessed with gathering information about her disease, Sontag was unable to be alone, and Rieff becomes one in a circle of devotees who rotate staying with her at her New York City apartment. A doctor is found who does not believe her case is hopeless, and in Seattle she undergoes a bone-marrow transplant. In this sea of death, Sontag took her son with her—conflicted, wracked, but wrenchingly candid, Rieff attempts to swim out. (Jan.)

In this upbeat, sometimes self-congratulatory book, University of Houston professor Gregory looks at the benefits of waiting until later in life to have children. Recent front-page studies citing a rise in infertility have instilled a sense of emergency in women who put off having children until they have established careers and chosen the right father—or perhaps eschewed the need for one. Gregory’s palliative, informative study of 113 mothers between the ages of 35 and 56 (she doesn’t share where they live, one failing of this work) reveals the rational motivations on the part of these mostly well-educated, professional women for waiting, as well as their varying success in getting pregnant. Married moms, single moms, gay moms, moms who had a baby by nature or with the help of technology or adoption—Gregory shares her happy discovery that most of these “new later moms” felt positive about their choices. Some of the reasons they cite in interviews include bringing more financial power and education to the nest, creating a strong family focus and the likelihood of a stable, “peer” marriage, enjoying a longer life expectancy and a general sense of self-confidence younger mothers may lack. Helpfully, Gregory debunks a lot of the hysterical statistics surrounding infertility and dispenses the wealth of pregnancy and adoption offerings with equanimity and good cheer. (Jan.)

The world’s most humble fruit has caused inordinate damage to nature and man, and Popular Science journalist Koeppel (To See Every Bird on Earth) embarks on an intelligent, chock-a-block sifting through the havoc. Seedless, sexless bananas evolved from a wild inedible fruit first cultivated in Southeast Asia, and was probably the “apple” that got Adam and Eve in trouble in the Garden of Eden. From there the fruit traveled to Africa and across the Pacific, arriving on U.S. shores probably with the Europeans in the 15th century. However, the history of the banana turned sinister as American businessmen caught on to the marketability of this popular, highly perishable fruit then grown in Jamaica. Thanks to the building of the railroad through Costa Rica by the turn of the century, the United Fruit company flourished in Central America, its tentacles extending into all facets of government and industry, toppling “banana republics” and igniting labor wars. Meanwhile, the Gros Michel variety was annihilated by a fungus called Panama disease (Sigatoka), which today threatens the favored Cavendish, as Koeppel sounds the alarm, shuttling to genetics-engineering labs from Honduras to Belgium. His sage, informative study poses the question fairly whether it’s time for consumers to reverse a century of strife and exploitation epitomized by the purchase of one banana. (Jan.)

This book’s contents belie its subtitle. Diner, a professor of modern European history at the Hebrew University, is focused less on Europe’s “edge”—“from the Baltic over and above the Black Sea to the Aegean”—than on the diplomatic dynamics among the continent’s four major powers (Great Britain, Germany, France and Russia, later the U.S.S.R.) and, increasingly, the U.S. Diner tries to make this history conform to his thesis that a “universal civil war” (Ernst Jünger’s phrase), marked by struggle between the forces of “freedom” (the democratic West) and those of “literal equality” (the fascist and communist powers), dominated the century. Yet Diner repeatedly notes that this antipodal view doesn’t always apply; for example, France’s chief concern in Indochina in the early 1950s “was not struggling against Communism but maintaining control over a substantial part of its colonial empire.” Still, the book does have some highly worthwhile sections on Europe’s “fringe,” particularly on the political and interethnic roots of the Turks’ 1915 annihilation of the Armenians. (He notes that four legions of non-Turkish Armenians in the Russian army served as a pretext for Turkey’s charges of Armenian “disloyalty.”). Yet generally, Diner’s thesis is flawed and his presentation of historical developments highly uneven. (Jan. 5)

Women whose husbands have low sexual drives shouldn’t automatically assume that their mates are angry with them or find them unattractive, says Davis (The Sex-Starved Marriage). Cardiovascular disease, diabetes, a dysfunctional thyroid and chronic kidney disease as well as erectile dysfunction all take a toll on sexual desire, and Davis advises wives to get their husbands to the doctor pronto. Nonphysical ills, such as stress, job loss, grief and midlife crisis, can also quash libido, and sex or marital therapy or individual talk therapy are recommended. Wives should be loving, patient and encouraging, make their requests action-oriented and engage in activities in which they can find solace and strength like volunteer work, reading, exercise or support groups. Davis’s stance is controversially anti-divorce, discouraging it even when the husband refuses to end an affair or is gay; she shamelessly hawks her own divorce-busting center and coaching services and annoyingly congratulates readers for working to turn their marriages around. Her advice is basically familiar and obvious, treading the same territory as her earlier The Sex-Starved Marriage and other self-help manuals, but some desperately unhappy women might find validation in these pages. (Jan.)

Prolific author Axelrod (Patton on Leadership; Elizabeth I, CEO) tackles the American Revolution in this breezy popular history. Despite the subtitle, this “nonacademic” treatment of the revolution is straightforward, if not traditional, and the conclusions are familiar. Axelrod argues that the revolution was not a class struggle and left the American people unambiguously better off. He points out that the colonists weren’t actually terribly oppressed, and that Gen. George Washington’s triumph was in outlasting the British. The key players are portrayed rather conventionally, from the cautious British commander, Gen. William Howe, to the stoic Washington. The sprightly narrative is lavishly illustrated, and intriguing sidebars, such as “Forgotten Faces,” “Reality Check” and “Alternate Take,” are interspersed throughout the text. If the narrative is largely traditional, these features introduce some unfamiliar figures and surprising facts. Even with few notes and a scant bibliography, this lively narrative with its informative supplementary material makes for an excellent introduction to the revolution for general readers. (Jan.)

Talbott, deputy secretary of state in the Clinton administration, makes an eloquent but predictable appeal for progress toward “global governance” under the auspices of the United Nations, which he sees as humanity’s destined path since tribes began forming states, and since states have sought an alternative to international anarchy. The major obstacle to the new order, according to Talbott (Engaging India), is the United States, whose massive power and individualist principles encourage its citizens to regard limiting national authority as unnatural. In the face of cultural resistance, however, presidents from Franklin Roosevelt to Bill Clinton regarded some form of world authority as both a natural development in a nuclear era and a useful element of U.S. foreign policy. The villain of the piece, not surprisingly, is George W. Bush, who Talbott claims asserted America’s right to make and enforce rules for other nations, rejected facts that did not support his preconceptions and ignored advice from more experienced foreign-policy hands. The resulting havoc wrought by “triumphalism” and “evangelism,” according to the author, will require the careful attention of wiser, more temperate people, presumably in a Democratic administration. While the roots of Talbott’s argument run deep, it echoes so much conventional wisdom on the subject that its impact is likely to be minimal. (Jan.)

Lamenting the fact that 41% of U.S. workers are dissatisfied with their jobs, Friedman and Yorio (The Girl’s Guide to Being a Boss (Without Being a Bitch) brim over with advice to help their readers join the lucky fulfilled 60%. They aim their tips at women at all stages of their careers, from those wanting to rise in their industry to those itching to switch to another or to start their own business. With a friendly, encouraging tone, the authors delineate how to self-evaluate priorities, skills and career aspirations. The book is broken down into broad, essential career-bolstering lessons, such as selling yourself, taming the fear of success, asking for what you deserve, networking with other women and addressing the particular challenges of working moms. Interspersed are the inspirational stories of successful women, all of whom have followed the refreshingly practical advice: “If you’re not looking out for your career, nobody is.” Though the authors don’t offer much novel advice, their successful brand and peppy attitude should win them readers seeking a can-do kick in the pants. (Jan. 15)

Charan (Know-How) skillfully and efficiently offers a tutorial on upgrading the productivity of any size company’s sales force. His answer: evolve salespeople from “order takers” to knowledgeable ambassadors who approach customers armed with cost-saving solutions they will be happy to pay for Charan’s method involves “Value Creation Selling,” which at a broad level means reconfiguring a sales force’s orientation toward customers’ profitability before its own success. The author recommends fostering in salespeople the skills and mindsets of a general manager and equipping them with a “value account plan,” or “the document that defines the value proposition and the business benefits the customer can expect to get from it.” Charan walks readers through the process of “fixing the broken sales process” with a combination of diagrams and anecdotes from real companies, all while applying the concepts and actions to a booklong case study of a fictitious software company, Sturgis Corporation. The book serves as a practical guide to competing with aggressive price-cutters in today’s market. (Jan.)

Sandwiched between the rich and the middle class are 8.4 million American households with a net worth between $1 million and $10 million. Prince and Schiff present intriguing statistical nuggets from their survey of 586 “middle-class millionaire” households. Although these people may be rich by most definitions, many were raised middle class, earned rather than inherited their wealth and still retain middle-class values. Comparing the responses of middle-class millionaires to middle-class households with less than $1 million net worth, Prince and Schiff determine that middle-class millionaires work harder, suffer more setbacks, choose homes for quality schools rather than convenience to work or shopping and have larger social networks. Unfortunately, these statistics are difficult to interpret without information about differences in age, family size, income, career and location. The book offers something for those who yearn to join the middle-class millionaires or move up among their ranks, especially entrepreneurs with business plans for this population, who are heavily profiled in these pages. Despite the breezy writing style, readers looking for a rigorous economic analysis will be disappointed. (Jan. 15)

In this illuminating survey of Jean Sibelius (1865–1957), Barnett, founder of the U.K. Sibelius Society, attempts “to place Sibelius’s music in context by discussing all of his surviving works.” The book benefits from the ambitious project of the Swedish record company BIS to record everything in its Complete Sibelius Edition, an undertaking in which Barnett has been closely involved since the mid-1980s. He traces the life of the composer from his early music lessons (violin, piano, cello) as a youth in Hameenlinna, Finland, and his first serious attempts at composition during the 1880s to the recognition of his talent at the Helsinki Music Institute (now the Sibelius Academy) and further studies in Berlin and Vienna, followed by the 1892 success of his first major orchestral work, his prolific creations over the following decades and his dwindling output after 1927 when he wrote in his diary, “Abused, lonely, all my real friends dead. Just now my prestige here is non-existent. Impossible to work.” In 1935, however, his status “as an international icon was secure.” Incorporated throughout is Barnett’s in-depth analysis of Sibelius’s compositions, a critique so finely tuned that many readers will want to listen as they read. 16 b&w illus. unseen by PW. (Dec.)

All of the essays in the series’ eighth year exhibit a timeless prose in the midst of meeting deadlines. But many also resonate with a special sense of timeliness, such as the insightful “Rules of Engagement” by William Langewiesche, a detailed study for Vanity Fair of the U.S. massacre of Iraqi citizens in the town of Haditha. Other essays have a similar sense of urgency: “Inside Scientology” by Janet Reitman for Rolling Stone—the result of a nine-month investigation—is a terrific and balanced look at an organization whose top leaders assert that false ideas, “including the concepts of God, Christ, and organized religion,” date back 75 million years to the work of “an evil galactic warrior named Xenu.” C.J. Chivers’s “The School” for Esquire is a harrowing account of the three-day siege by Chechen terrorists of a grammar school in the Russian town of Beslan. Other, lighter pieces include Vanessa Grigoriadis’s skillful depiction for New York of the crazy-like-a-fox business and personal lifestyle of “Karl Lagerfeld, Boy Prince of Fashion.” (Dec. 26)

In these eloquent essays, naturalist and adventurer Childs (House of Rain) describes some of his extraordinary experiences with creatures—from wasps, red-spotted toads and hummingbirds to grizzly bears, coyotes and jaguars. Seeking entrée into animal societies, he interprets messages left in marks on the ground and in scents on leaves and trees, and communicates with animals directly using their own language of stares, gestures, postures, sounds, scents and gaits. He goes looking for animals alone in hazardous wilderness areas—tracking mountain goats in Colorado’s Gore Range or surprising a secret society of ravens in a canyon in Utah. Always longing to be at one with animals, he is not afraid to climb an aspen to see the world from a porcupine’s perspective, run with a herd of elk or wonder how it would feel to jump from a plane and fly with a bald eagle. Childs’s captivating essays, rich in sensuous imagery (the porcupine “looks like a mop, a bundle of ponderosa pine needles, a mobile hairstyle”), are hauntingly beautiful and replete with evocative observations of animal life. 42 b&w illus. (Dec. 12)

Photographers Garoutte and Wambaugh demystify and celebrate the Afro-Cuban religions of Santería, Palo Monte and Espiritismo. The three traditions are, they note, inextricable in Cuban practice, with supplicants calling on elements from all three, as well as folk Catholicism, to improve their lives, relationships, finances and health. Garoutte and Wambaugh focus their lenses on Santiago, a retired retailer who is a renowned practitioner of Afro-Cuban religions and godfather to many initiates. Driven by powerful, evocative descriptions and scene-setting, the book delves into the various rituals and spiritual practices that take place in the back rooms of Santiago’s Cuban home. Following a precedent set in 1991 by Karen McCarthy Brown in her innovative book Mama Lola, in which a scholarly observer of an Afro-Caribbean religion gradually becomes a participant in her own right, these authors do not attempt to maintain skepticism or distance from the subject they cover, and are gradually initiated into both Santería and Palo Monte. What results is a respectful, vibrant account of Afro-Cuban religions, enhanced by more than 150 vivid photographs. (Feb.)

A generation ago, Short hit a nerve with The Gospel According to Peanuts, which sold more than 10 million copies and launched a series of “Gospel According to” books about religion and popular culture. Here, with more mixed results, Short offers the same treatment to the stories of Theodor Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss, who is often dismissed as a children’s writer rather than the “first-class Christian thinker” Short feels he is. Short tackles 11 Seuss tales, from the famous and well-known (How the Grinch Stole Christmas! and Green Eggs and Ham), to the little-read (I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew, which Short confesses is his personal favorite). Drawing on the Bible, especially Paul and the Gospels, and the plays of William Shakespeare, Short presents quick theological readings of these stories, with the highlight being the creative “cat-echism” he crafts as a creed from The Cat in the Hat. He points out some things Seuss fans may not have noticed, e.g., Lorax may well be an acronym for “the Lord and Christ,” making the story a parable about faith rather than merely a lesson on environmental responsibility. Despite these flashes of brilliance, the book feels thin and disjointed, with waiflike chapters existing best as individual micro-essays rather than part of a cohesive whole. (Feb.)

Popular evangelical writer Guinness (The Call) worries that the culture wars are destroying the United States. If Americans don’t find a way of living with “our deepest differences,” the republic will decline. He forcefully defends religious liberty, noting that it was crucial for the founding generation and should be just as crucial today. To that end, he calls Christians to rethink their enthusiasm for government-sponsored “faith-based initiatives,” and to remember that evangelicals “were the victims of earlier church-state establishments.” The religious right—whose discourse of victimization, says Guinness, is silly and “anti-Christian”—comes under fire. Nor is Guinness a fan of the nascent religious left—he prefers a depoliticized faith. For all Guinness’s rhetorical vim, his proposals ultimately feel anodyne: his boilerplate conclusion is that in order to restore civility we need “leadership” and “a remarkable articulation of vision.” Furthermore, although Guinness notes that he is a European, the book is oddly marked by the old rhetoric of American cultural imperialism. Echoing JFK, Guinness wants his essay to be taken as “one model for fostering civility around the world and helping make the world safe for diversity.” Many readers may prefer Charles Marsh’s lively, provocative manifesto Wayward Christian Soldiers. (Feb.)

In the insightful latest installment of the Art of Spiritual Living series, Presbyterian pastor Sawyer suggests that practicing hospitality can be “transformative.” Sawyer’s notion of her subject is capacious: though she writes about extending hospitality to grandparents, neighbors and friends, she is also interested in hospitable relationships with God, oneself and even with creation. Ultimately, she calls for readers to do more than simply have people over for a meal (though sharing food is one hospitable practice she encourages); rather, she wants people to invite others into deep, real relationships. Thus, intentionality and attentiveness underpin her conception of hospitality. We should pay attention to “what is really going on inside of us” and listen carefully when in conversation with other people. Sawyer moves from the theoretical and theological (“hospitality to God is circular… because when we welcome God we find that we ourselves are deeply welcomed into God”) to the practical (centering prayer can foster a hospitable relationship with God; making museum or picnic dates with yourself is a way to practice hospitality to self). She writes with a deeply ecumenical bent, drawing on Thich Nhat Hahn, Swami Anantananda, Gandhi and Lao Tsu. This small book will be a blessing to many people. (Feb.)

Morgan (Then Sings My Soul; The Children’s Daily Devotional Bible) devotes his pastoral heart to the well-known New Testament verse Romans 8:28: “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God: those who are called according to His purpose.” First Morgan puts the verse in context and then dissects it phrase by phrase. He puts emphasis on the “fine print” fact that this verse isn’t “for universal distribution without conditions,” but is instead “only for those who meet the requirement of loving God.” Morgan moves beyond this oft-quoted passage to delve into the verses that follow, spending time on issues such as predestination and justification until concluding with Paul’s final words in Romans 8, “the most soaring, breathtaking poetry in all his writings.” Morgan also looks closely at verses in Genesis and Ephesians that add depth and detail to the Romans passage. He sprinkles real-life examples and hymn texts throughout, creating a Bible study book that is both profound and simple, loving and firm, hopeful and helpful. We have, says Morgan, “a God-given assurance that every single circumstance will sooner or later turn out well for those fully committed to Jesus Christ.” (Feb.)

This is the sort of large-scale, global history that is not often pursued by academics anymore, for fear of oversimplifying narratives that fail to attend to local detail. This is a vitally important book: Christianity has never been a more global religion than it is today, yet here we can see how global it has always been. Before Marty, dean of American church historians, even turns his attention to European Christianity he spends long chapters on Asian and African episodes. The book concludes with second African and Asian episodes, suggesting the faith’s future lies on those continents: “The European presence wanes and the promise of Christianity elsewhere rises,” he writes. Few scholars other than Marty would have dared write a book such as this, with details on figures as diverse as Bar-Daisan in ancient Syria and present-day Pentecostal evangelists in Africa. Historians and theologians will naturally quibble over points of detail, which may not always be up-to-date on current scholarship. Yet Marty writes with whimsical accessibility, the passion of a believer and the critical eye of a hard-nosed skeptic. This is a book that offers a tentative yes to the ancient question of Jesus, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (Jan. 15)

Twenty years after founding the World Changers Church International, Dollar (Claim Your Victory Today) continues to offer advice on applying the Bible to everyday situations in pursuit of a prosperous life. Each easily digestible chapter—first broken down into a homily-esque message, followed by a recap, relevant scripture and an exercise—addresses the title’s eight steps. Maintaining a natural but firm tone, Dollar vacillates between scriptural and personal experience to make his points. Those already familiar with his ministry will most likely find his suggestions relevant and helpful. However, seekers, especially those new to Christianity, may find parts of the second half of the book a bit vague when it comes to instructions such as “come up with your own confessions based on God’s Word” when trying to form new habits or “memorize Scriptures so you will have ammunition to cast down ungodly thoughts” when working on self-discipline. While the advice may improve a reader’s connection with God, more specific suggestions—whether of actual verses or even just how to find a certain verse—would better round out Dollar’s blueprint for a godly life. (Jan. 2)

Ray, a student of Tibetan Buddhist master Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, has written several other books and very evidently knows a great deal about meditation and the Tibetan Buddhist tradition as passed down by his unconventional guru. This book about the ultimate nonconceptual wisdom—what we can know in our bodies —is, paradoxically, highly conceptual and very slow going. The prose is labored (“a clear and accurate conceptual understanding of the subtle processes involved is necessary so we have the apparatus to receive, comprehend and give voice to our experience”). Frequently, Buddhist teachers use concrete examples or real-life stories to illustrate difficult or subtle points. Ray shares one important anecdote from his own life, but more tales from his or his students’ lives would help. The critique of Western overdependence on thinking is certainly familiar, so the author’s starting point is not new. The visualization exercises he offers in the book’s appendix are comparatively fresh. But these instructions are probably more effective heard than read, and Ray’s publisher indeed offers an audio program of related meditation practices. This book could use hard editing and clearer, more concrete language and examples. (Jan.)

Business professor Zigarelli (The Minister’s MBA) ably teaches others how to wield influence through biblically effective methodology. Zigarelli’s book is replete with examples from the Bible, where Jesus influenced and catalyzed remarkable inner change in those with whom he interacted. The author plainly tells fellow Christians that they are commanded by way of the Gospel of Matthew’s “Great Commission” to be influencers in their respective worlds. Zigarelli’s prose is lively and practical, and his scope is far more comprehensive and altruistic than a basic primer on getting others to serve one’s self-interest. Rather, every principle is presented expressly from a selfless position in which the goal is always to enrich another person’s life by honoring Christ’s servant-leader example. Readers will glean insight on such topics as making personal, prayerful preparation before attempting to persuade; understanding the wisdom of connecting through similarity and by asking for another’s opinion; learning to tell a compelling story using contrasts and metaphors; and valuing the weight of authoritative, experiential and social evidence. Readers will also discover concise planning worksheets and a complementary leader’s guide for applying each concept skillfully in any personal or professional position. (Jan.)

Zacharias (The Grand Weaver) brings together many of today’s leading apologists (who are also colleagues at his Ravi Zacharias International Ministries) for a relatively concise treatment of major apologetic themes, including the existence of God, the problem of evil, the exclusive truth claims of Christianity and evidence for the universe’s intelligent design. Writers explore Eastern religions, conversational apologetics and the challenges postmodern thought presents to accepting Christianity. Not all the entries here are equal—a stronger edit might have given the whole more cohesion and kept some essayists from straying a bit—but some are impressively readable. Oxford professor Alister McGrath covers atheism with grace, and Zacharias himself tackles the problem of evil simply and clearly in a short 30 pages. Underlying the whole is a sense of compassion, that apologetics is not solely about establishing truth claims but about understanding listeners’ deep needs and what their current philosophy provides them. The subtitle is unclear—this is really a standard apologetics manual rather than a book about living out the Christian faith (an idea which Zacharias perhaps should develop elsewhere). But readers will find this helpful and comprehensive, smart and kind . (Jan.)

Leading Jewish theologian Borowitz (Hebrew Union College, Liberal Judaism) and coauthor Schwartz (The Jewish Moral Virtues) present a much-needed book. As they note, there are many fine books about Jewish holidays and Jewish history, but too few about Jewish theology—especially liberal Jewish theology—that are accessible to the general reader. Borowitz and Schwartz open with a discussion of how we can talk about God, and then traverse everything from interfaith dialogue to the Psalms to religious authority to Jewish ideas about evil and life after death. Throughout, the authors underscore “humankind’s significant role as God’s partner.” They provocatively suggest that in recent decades, many Jews have become increasingly humble about what they can and cannot know; this philosophical reserve has helped liberal Jews cease trying to be “hardheaded rationalistic types” and to become more open to God and spirituality. Sketches of seven people who have influenced modern Jewish thought, including Hermann Cohen and Judith Plaskow, are useful. The book is marred only by its somewhat confusing organization. Indeed, the authors themselves explain the book can be read in any order and “wasn’t written with one in mind”—but that proves to be a weakness, not a boon. (Jan.)

Bishop Long pastors the New Birth Missionary Baptist Church in Lithonia, Ga., whose membership skyrocketed under Long’s headship from a scanty 300 to more than 25,000 people. Long’s homiletical techniques must be both persuasive and impressive to regularly fill his church’s 10,000 seats. However, his charisma doesn’t translate as well on paper, making this guide for Christian women little more than a stale rehashing of similar exhortations. Long shares with readers how a persistent urging by his wife birthed the premise of this book, based on 2 John 1:1, where John greets an “Elect Lady.” Long encourages all women, no matter their background, disappointments or failed dreams, to embrace God’s destiny and eternal purpose. He challenges women to move beyond stalled relationships, transitional setbacks and life’s interruptions. Citing Mary, Jesus’ mother, as the quintessential Elect Lady who had to overcome public stigma as well as personal sacrifice, the author enjoins every woman to emulate Mary’s steadfast faithfulness to God’s greater plan. Long clearly has a passionate desire to see women fulfill their optimal potential as Christians influencing those under their care, yet the book comes across as unoriginal and tired. (Jan.)

In this compelling and engaging volume, Hirschfield urges people of all faiths to accept their differences while seeking commonality and reaching out to one another with love and forgiveness. As an Orthodox rabbi, Hirschfield bases his faith on Jewish tradition, yet he draws on his unusually varied upbringing in a secular home to implement his own strategies and theories for living a fulfilling life, and is not afraid to reference Jesus or Muhammad as great teachers. In his teens, Hirschfield joined a small group of fanatical Jewish settlers defending Hebron, but renounced that way of life after witnessing a scene of inexplicable and unrepentant violence. Now he posits that there is room for more than one religious or moral viewpoint to be correct. Hirschfield integrates this thesis with many personal anecdotes to keep the text alive and interesting. He shares his memories of participating in the groundbreaking ceremony for a synagogue rebuilt near Auschwitz, and he remembers taking part in a meeting of the Islamic Society of North America. At times, the text feels a bit longwinded, but Hirschfield’s admirable objective of expanding ourselves to let others in comes across nicely and should attract a wide interfaith audience. (Jan.)

Since it debuted in 2004, the ABC drama Lost has sparked intense discussions about its complex themes, some of which are deeply religious. Ankerberg and Burroughs, coauthors of The Da Vinci Code Controversy, write as ardent fans of the series who are intrigued by its mysteries and discussions of faith, miracles, dreams, prayer and God. This is not the book for fans seeking compelling speculation about what will happen in future seasons; section two, which briefly addresses some popular theories, does little more than scratch the surface of other people’s musings. And although Ankerberg and Burroughs state at the outset they’re “not saying that Lost is a Christian show,” their book is primarily concerned with how various plot lines and characters point to the Bible and to Jesus Christ. Sometimes this yields interesting fruit, as when they analyze each Bible verse listed on Eko’s Jesus stick, but mostly the effort to pigeonhole the drama for apologetic purposes feels forced. This book will be best enjoyed by evangelical youth groups, who will resonate with its explicitly Christian focus and the “Lost Talk” discussion questions at the end of each chapter. (Dec.)