Nonfiction Reviews: Week of 12/24/2007

In this poignant and witty memoir, Canadian novelist Gilmour (A Perfect Night to Go to China) grapples with his decision to allow his teenage son, Jesse, to leave school in the 10th grade provided he promises to watch three movies a week with his father. Determined not to force a formal education on his son, former film critic and television host Gilmour begins the film club with Truffaut's The 400 Blows—with Basic Instinct for “dessert.” There are no lectures preceding the films, no quizzes on content or form: just a father and son watching movies together. Expertly tracing the trials and tribulations of teenage crushes and heartbreak, Gilmour explores not only his choice of films but also Jesse's struggles with his girlfriends and burgeoning music career. There are “units” on everything from undiscovered talent (Audrey Hepburn's Oscar-winning debut in Roman Holiday) to stillness, exemplified by Gary Cooper's ability in High Noon to steal a scene without moving a muscle. Gilmour expertly tackles the nostalgia not only of film but also that of parents, watching as their children grow and develop separate lives. With his unique blend of film history and personal memoir, Gilmour's latest offering will deservedly win him new American fans. (May)

Price, an artist living in 1960s New York City in her 20s, traveled to France in search of an outlet for her artistic creativity. Enthralled by Paris's wrought-iron balconies and the urban landscape that inspired the Impressionists, Price was soon in a fervid romance with Yves, a Frenchman and artist, whom she married. Not long after the birth of their daughter, Danielle, Yves—against Price's protests—bought half a hamlet in a bucolic corner of Brittany, and Price was left with the arduous task of rehabilitating their seven broken-down farmhouses. As her once-quixotic marriage languished with Yves's increasing volatility and unreasonable demands that she stop painting, Price forms an unlikely friendship with her neighbor Jeanne, a villager in her late 60s who becomes her mentor—teaching her, above all else, self-sufficiency—while Price introduces her new companion to the art world and city life. In this sweet, simple memoir, Price redefines her idea of strength and resilience and commemorates a once-in-a-lifetime friendship. (Apr.)

The host of ESPN's popular Beat Charlie Moore show—in which he bets his own money in one-on-one fishing duels against pros and amateurs alike—tries to transfer his wild man persona to the printed page, with mixed results. The first few chapters, on his youth, marriage, and failed attempt to run a bait-and-tackle shop, make slow going, and his look at how he went from local to national stardom is marred by abrupt tangents in which he thanks various network and corporate sponsors. The pace speeds up when Moore provides a behind-the-scenes look at various shows; he has plenty of great stories about such celebrity guests as rock guitarist Ted Nugent, sports legend Bobby Orr, rapper Darryl McDaniels of Run-DMC and Batman star Adam West. But Moore doesn't provide much beyond what was caught on camera: his comment that “Ted is crazy” doesn't illuminate the episode in which Nugent fired a nine millimeter into his own pond to get enough fish to win the competition. Moore is upfront about wanting to be “more along the lines of a Tim Allen driving the show,” and it is clear that he succeeded on TV. But he doesn't capture his “Mad Fisherman” persona on the page. (Apr.)

Karlen (Shanda: The Making and Breaking of a Self-Loathing Jew) offers an often pleasant but clunkily written romp through Yiddish and Yiddishkeit (the culture of Ashkenazic Jews) in America. There are some colorful anecdotes about figures as varied as Bob Dylan, the philanthropist Jacob Schiff and the contemporary Hasidic rabbi Manis Friedman, as well as an introduction to many useful witty Yiddish phrases (the literal Yiddish for “she's good in bed” is “she knows how to dance the mattress polka”). But, oy, are there problems. The book is replete with repetition of anecdotes and observations, and there are errors of fact (Moses Mendelssohn never converted to Christianity, nor does the Bible say, “you shouldn't cook beef in its own calf's milk”). Worse, Karlen provides cartoon versions of Jewish history, shtetl life and scholarship. He makes only a thin case for the thesis stated in his subtitle. As an introduction to Yiddish, Michael Wex's Born to Kvetch is not only more erudite but funnier as well. (Apr. 8)

The vice presidency of the United States may be an awkward, ill-defined creation, but it has now inspired the book it probably deserves, a chatty, discursive chronicle that wobbles uncertainly between Veep 101, comic fable and perceptive political commentary. Despite his lighthearted style, it's clear that Lott, an accomplished writer and widely published columnist, has not only researched his topic carefully, but is also, as his discussions of vice presidents Nixon and Tyler reveal, prepared to come to his own, occasionally unconventional, conclusions. That said, he throws in so many jokes (some good, some startlingly bad), breezy asides and anecdotes (including the revelation that the bucket filled with a warm liquid to which FDR's John Nance Garner famously compared the vice presidency allegedly contained something less appealing than “spit”) that they drown out the overall story. This confusion is compounded by the way Lott's narrative is disproportionately focused on those vice presidents who made it to the White House. The vice presidency's current significance is another matter. It has, as Lott notes, become a real source of power in its own right. However, those looking for a serious understanding of the vice presidency are best advised to look elsewhere. (Mar. 11)

Collected here are 44 trenchant essays written for various publications over the past 25 years by an astute observer of contemporary life and the environment. In some, McKibben reflects on personal experiences; in others, he discusses the sources of his environmental activism. Many of the pieces deal with global warming—the subject of McKibben's first book, The End of Nature, and the folly of endless growth—the theme of his more recent Deep Economy. All have something to say that is worth hearing, but it is the collection's pervasive sense of hope for the world that sets apart these provocative, beautifully written essays. Though McKibben worries about consumerism and the environment, he sees reason for optimism, too, rejoicing in the simple spirituality he finds in his hometown church, the popularity of old-fashioned state fairs, the return of forests to the eastern United States, the transformation of a town in Brazil into a haven for pedestrians, the success of sustainable farming in Cuba and the recent involvement of evangelicals in the environmental movement. “There are all sorts of sweet things in this world,” McKibben writes, “many of which are us, and many of which are not.” Thankfully, McKibben has borne witness to them with grace and style. (Mar. 4)

Harvard Business School professor Poorvu writes a very good book for a very specific readership: people who want to invest or build careers in real estate. This well-organized text shows what a typical life in real estate is like so that newcomers can decide whether the field is right for them. It also offers advice on how to grow real estate investments for people who are already in the industry. The book is divided into four stages: “starting out” looks at how to begin a real estate career by getting your first job (with tips as specific as résumé suggestions and as broad as finding a focus); “scaling up” focuses on what to do after you're established (such as making the decision to grow or stay small); “hedging your bets” discusses potential crises in the field; and “taking stock” looks at later career steps. Throughout these chapters, further subheadings make the material easy to navigate. Poorvu includes a variety of real world stories about people and their career experiences to make for an interesting read with a practical edge. (Mar.)

Read (The Devil's Disciples: Hitler's Inner Circle) offers a lucid, gripping history of how the leaders of Western democracies reacted to the Russian revolution. Bolsheviks made clear their intention to unleash a worldwide revolution, and Churchill and others feared similar uprisings on their own soil. On December 30, 1918, bombs exploded at the houses of prominent Philadelphia businessmen and civic leaders. Fearing this was a Bolshevik attack, Philadelphians warned that other cities might come under the radicals' fire next. In Britain, unemployment was on the rise and worker morale was plummeting. Strikes rocked cities from Glasgow to Seattle. When workers and peasants in Spain began organizing, local estate owners blamed Red Russia, as did foreign journalists, like the French correspondent who opined that “[a] wave of Bolshevism is passing over Andalusia.” That spring also saw a spike in American panic about radicalism—when an alert postal worker barely managed to avert mailing out more than a dozen bombs in New York, everyone noticed that the bombs would have arrived around May Day. This sweeping, brilliant history, which travels from Turin, Italy, to Winnipeg, Canada, makes one crucial year in the history of global politics and labor come alive and has obvious resonance with the present moment. 16 pages of illus. (Mar.)

This is the perfect gift for anyone considering becoming a veterinarian. Trout, a staff surgeon at Boston's Angell Animal Medical Center, has exactly the traits that any pet owner would wish to find in a vet: he's smart, sensitive, experienced, empathic and has an excellent sense of humor. He also happens to be an excellent writer, and his personality suffuses the many stories “sifted from recollections of thousands of animal encounters” during his 25 years of practice and compressed in this account into one day. Trout shows how the daily life of a veterinarian requires the ability to be “a social worker, a psychologist, a grief counselor, mentor, carpenter, plumber, cosmetologist, athletic coach, magician, grim reaper, and occasionally, guardian angel.” And in some of the more heart rending stories, such as that of an older widowed man dealing with the potential loss of his shepherd companion, Sage, Trout shows his sensitivity to the fact that in each case, “The rewards and strength of the bonds with the animals in their lives proved irresistible, irrepressible, and more than worth the risk.” (Mar. 11)

In her exhaustively researched account of the Scott Peterson trial and similar cases, journalist Strong (A Bright Red Scream) makes a convincing case that there is a growing number of men—whom she calls eraser killers—who murder their wives or girlfriends with premeditation and dispose of the body in an attempt to make both the crime and the victim “disappear.” They kill, says Strong, because the woman “no longer serves any 'purpose' ” in the man's “emotionally desolate world,” or because he sees her as an obstacle to a life he fantasizes for himself. Strong traces the phenomenon back to the 1906 case of Chester Gillette, convicted for murdering his pregnant mistress and the model for Dreiser's An American Tragedy. Between the Gillette and Peterson cases is a series of gruesome murders that Strong contends were committed by husbands who then staged kidnappings or robberies to disguise the murder or simply stashed the bodies so well that they are never found. Her accounts of various eraser killings around the country are compelling, but none more so than her meticulously detailed examination of Laci Peterson's murder. With its blend of novelistic journalism and concise psychiatric research, Strong's exposé will appeal to more than just true crime fans. (Mar.)

Reading lines like “Sure, most couples are ill suited and unhappy, but so the hell what? At least they're married!” it will be tough for enlightened readers of Newsday trend reporter Lewak's handbook not to go on the defensive. Lewak, self-described “Potential Fiancé predator,” tries to convince women over 25 that if they're not feeling alarmed about their unmarried state, they're living in la-la land. Still, the voice throughout is so breezy and fun that readers will cross their fingers that Lewak is kidding. And it seems that she is. She eventually puts aside all the usual and necessary jokes about “smug married friends” and hideous bridal wear, her final lesson apparently that you shouldn't lose yourself in that quest for a fairy tale ending. After chapters on mind games and subterfuge that will help women in their quest for the ring, the book develops a cautionary attitude, warning readers against settling for whatever comes along in their desperation, and asserting that one can be happy as a single, swingin' lady. This is fortunate, because it's hard to hate a book that provides so many laughs. (Mar. 18)

According to psychologist and Harvard Medical School assistant professor Domar (Self-Nurture), “everything is never perfect, and if you expect it to be, true happiness and contentment will always be out of reach.” To teach women to create reasonable expectations for relationships, careers and their bodies, the authors offer quizzes to determine how much perfectionism is influencing readers' lives and interview women struggling with perfectionism. In a three-part process, readers are encouraged to identify, challenge and restructure detrimental thoughts. For example, a woman who decides her neighbor is a more creative parent than she is because the neighbor sews exquisite Halloween costumes should tell herself, “We all have strengths and weaknesses,” and “I do some things better than she does.” The authors also offer step-by-step techniques to tame the perfectionist beast, such as meditation, yoga, mini relaxations and journaling, and advise readers on setting realistic exercise and eating goals. Although much of the advice, written with journalist Kelly, is obvious and easier said than done, it's also sound and detailed and provides a good starting point for perfectionist readers. (Mar.)

When most of us think of symmetry, we think of looking into a mirror or playing patty-cake with a child. As Oxford don du Sautoy (The Music of the Primes) tells readers, this is only the tip of the triangle in the mathematical realms of symmetry, where symmetrical objects exist in dimensions far beyond our ability to imagine. The author takes readers gently by the hand and leads them elegantly through some steep and rocky terrain as he explains the various kinds of symmetry and the objects they swirl around. Du Sautoy explains how this twirling world of geometric figures has strange but marvelous connections to number theory, and how the ultimate symmetrical object, nicknamed “the Monster,” is related to string theory. This book is also a memoir in which du Sautoy describes a mathematician's life and how one makes a discovery in these strange lands. He also blends in minibiographies of famous figures like Galois, who played significant roles in this field. This is mainly for science buffs, but fans of scientific biographies will also find it appealing. B&w illus. (Mar.)

Sommers, a professor of geography, explains the role that landscape, history, economics and culture play in wine regions from Burgundy to Australia to California. While the varied microclimates of the Rhineland, for example, and unique soil of Bordeaux make for exquisite Riesling from the former and the characteristic cabernet sauvignon of the latter, environmental conditions like these are but one part of viticulture's complex geography. Historical factors such as colonialism, trade and urbanization also determine what wines are cultivated and where. As well, the economic geography of contemporary vineyards is ever-evolving: retail venues and the marketability of a product vary enormously, the Internet has broadened the market for wine and conglomerates are an increasing presence. In his wide-ranging analysis of the obvious and imperceptible elements that characterize a wine region and its rewards, Sommers tips his glass to the steadfast amour between viticulture and geography. (Mar.)

In his first book, former literary agent Gold sets out to probe the joys and mysteries of meat eating. According to his research, the ability to track and hunt for meat, whether hooved, clawed or winged, aided in the development of human intelligence, so we are destined to eat it. But as a carnivore with few qualms about meats, Gold is better equipped than most for this celebration of the meat-eating life. The bulk of the book chronicles his self-described month of meat, in which the author ate 31 kinds of meat in as many days. Alternating between the mundane (chicken) and the exotic (llama), he takes his culinary pilgrimage as seriously as a journey through a country or subculture, something many food writers are doing these days. The result is a hipsterish, lad-lit quasi-travelogue à la Julia and Julia. He takes on filet of ostrich and bull pizzle, vegetarianism and veganism, and argues that the indirect effects of such ethical and dietary lifestyle choices sometimes do more harm than the decision to butcher a single animal. The last and best part of his book is the Tour de Boeuf, which takes Gold through the butchering of a live bovine to the eating of various innards and offal. Fun, though somewhat frivolous, with recipes and sidebars. (Mar)

For those unfamiliar with the hype or the ridicule, Second Life is a “massively multi-user online world,” a vast simulation created by ordinary loggers-in using 3-D graphic-design tools from the site's proprietor, Linden Labs. Posing as animated “avatars,” “Residents” ramble or fly through the videoscape; they socialize with other avatars, create art, have sex, build cities, open shops and nightclubs, spend Linden Dollars (redeemable for real dollars) and fight wars, all while seated at their computer screens. Au, a journalist who chronicled the site as Linden Labs' reporter-avatar, visits the usual dot-com–saga touchstones. There's the shoestring startup by eccentric geeks; the pilgrimage to Burning Man; the bloviating visionary founder, Philip Rosedale (“I'm passionate about Second Life because there doesn't need to be a God”); the marketing gobbledygook about “Leverag[ing] Metaverse Brands.” Au celebrates Second Life as a seedbed for unfettered cybercapitalism, a liberating outlet for the masses' pentup creativity and a “lucid dream” that erases the virtual-real divide. Alas, in his telling, Second Life's ongoing fantasia—“the monkey now perched on the wing screamed 'DIEEEE' as he strafed a well-armed babe in a bikini”—feels very much like a recounted dream: creative, certainly, but rather tedious and patently irrelevant. (Mar.)

Psychologist Perry and business owner Allison teamed up in 2003 to give “non-motivational” seminars to women's groups across the country. This book, which was originally self-published in 2005, collects 50 of their sketches, mostly variations on the theme of women-who-do-too-much. There's the “Perfect Brownie Leader,” who planned scores of sophisticated projects for her troop; the scrapbooking obsessive who converted her whole house into a scrapbooking factory; the woman who set up her Christmas tree in July to get good photos for her Christmas cards; and a woman tormented by Martha Stewart's “thought for the day” e-mails. Most essays follow a single format—an excessive woman going to ever-more ridiculous extremes, while the narrator dead-pans, leaving readers cheering for the slacker. This format can work, but becomes tedious on repetition. Perry and Allison are much better when they're less predictable. They do a funny story about packing a frozen turkey in the checked luggage that has nothing to do with overachieving women, a nicely nasty piece about a woman who says “golly” about everything, and an oddly perceptive rant on the subject of husbands who embark on major home repairs just when company's expected. For less-than-perfect women who've had enough of Martha's endless projects, Perry and Allison may be an entertaining antidote. (Mar.)

Keck (Oedipus Wrecked) offers his drug-induced view on living life with as little effort as possible while delving into the possibility of God and organized religion versus spirituality. With candid wit, he recalls his past 10 years, explaining the influence of his family (his crazy mother who wakes him up by putting a butcher knife to his throat), his unfulfilled decision to descend into priesthood (“It was cool to tell people you were becoming a priest, especially if you had a beer in your hand”) and his germ phobia (people should not shake hands in church during flu season). He gets roped into teaching Sunday school, where he delivers half-baked sermons on evolution and abortion, yet the church parents can't stop raving about the positive impact he's had on their children. The humor in a few chapters seems forced and somewhat puerile (at age 25 he beat up his brother for putting a child-protection lock on the computer so he couldn't look at porn), though overall, Keck wins the reader over with his quirky honesty. (Mar.)

In this slender volume, bestselling spiritual guru Moore (Care of the Soul) says that finding the right work, finding one's vocation, is also part of the care of the soul. Often Moore proves astute; for instance, he urges people to think about having not just one but a variety of callings. His consideration of the pleasures and foibles of friendship in the workplace is especially insightful. Although confident that even the most mundane job can be enjoyable and life-giving, Moore sets the question of vocation in a broader frame, suggesting that it is best addressed as a part of fashioning lives that are organically whole and meaningful. Though still influenced by Jung, Moore draws inspiration from a delightful array of sources, including Yeats, Socrates, and Rapunzel. The book's governing metaphor, alchemy, is often apt; Moore notes that both alchemy and finding a life's work require patience through a long refining process, and both are about the process, not just the end result. Often the comparison works; at other times, it's heavy-handed, and Moore also lapses into clichés (“take the past and own it”). Nonetheless, this will be of use to many people who seek joyful work and integrated lives. (Feb. 26)

Casting the 66th attorney general and Watergate felon as the most upright man in the Nixon administration is faint praise indeed, to judge by this biography. Fox News correspondent Rosen applauds Mitchell for his tough law-and-order policies, school-desegregation efforts and hard line against leftist radicals, and for enduring wife Martha's alcoholic breakdowns and raving late-night phone calls to reporters. The book's heart is Rosen's meticulous, exhaustively researched study of Mitchell's Watergate role, absolving him of ordering the break-in and most other charges leveled against him. Instead, Mitchell is painted as a force for propriety who was framed by others—especially White House counsel John Dean, who comes off as Watergate's evil genius. (Rosen also claims Watergate burglar James McCord was secretly working for the CIA and deliberately sabotaged the break-in.) Unfortunately, Rosen's salutes to Mitchell's integrity and reverence for the law clash with his accounts of the man's misdeeds: undermining the Paris peace talks, suborning and committing perjury, tolerating the criminal scheming in Nixon's White House and re-election campaign. Mitchell may have blanched at the Nixon administration's sleazy intrigues, as Rosen insists, but he seems not to have risen above them. (Feb. 19)

Scheuer, former CIA analyst and trenchant critic of U.S. terrorism policies (Imperial Hubris) develops his argument that America suffers from a collective insistence on sustaining Cold War paradigms in a fundamentally altered world. For all its culpable errors, the current administration is merely the present-day incorporation of “willful historical ignorance, a paucity of common sense, and... a disastrous degree of intellectual hubris.” These fundamental shortcomings are exacerbated by a pattern of making policy decisions on the basis of how a liberal-pacifist media and intelligentsia will react, rather than objectively considering the national interest. That interest, Scheuer argues, requires prioritizing the Islamic threat in security considerations and understanding that it does not manifest intractable, theologically based hostility to American values and lifestyles. The Islamic challenge instead reflects a series of concrete U.S. policy decisions, beginning in 1973, committing the U.S. to supporting an endless war to the death between Arabs and Israelis. An increasingly desperate effort to sustain a fundamental regional imbalance—and Scheuer does not spare the Clinton administration—has led to direct military involvement, culminating in the debacles of Iraq and Afghanistan. These defeats, Scheuer declares, are the inevitable result of seeking to change the Middle East's dynamics by exporting the unique American patterns of democracy and republicanism. Controversial in its details, Scheuer's analysis suffers fundamentally from “Occidentalism.” Interpreting Islamic behavior as a consequence of American actions keeps the U.S. at the center of events in precisely the Cold War model Scheuer excoriates. (Feb. 12)

Graduating from college with a degree in Middle East studies, Rossmiller joined the Defense Department's Intelligence Agency in 2004 and soon volunteered to join a DIA unit in Iraq. He vividly recounts his six-month tour—the physical misery of the environment and the frustrations of feeling his work rarely made a difference. Good intelligence, he explains, begins with people on the spot (in this case usually Iraqis), who take risks but supply information that is often fragmented, out-of-date and even self-serving or false. Analysts, such as the author, tease out useful data and deliver it quickly to fighting men. Hobbled by clueless superiors and their turf wars, as well as ignorance of Iraqi culture, DIA units, including Rossmiller's, witnessed American forces repeatedly acting on poor or outdated intelligence. They killed and arrested plenty of genuine insurgents but also killed, arrested and infuriated many innocent Iraqis, which crippled their efforts. Back in Washington, Rossmiller discovered the agency under pressure to provide good news for the Bush administration. Superiors regularly rejected his analyses of Iraqi politics as “too pessimistic.” If repeated rewrites lacked an upbeat conclusion, superiors inserted one. That his predictions turned out to be correct made no difference. This intense, partisan arm-twisting devastated morale, resulting in an exodus of agency experts, including the author. Rossmiller gives a lively insider's view of the petty and not-so-petty politics that affect the intelligence our leaders receive in their efforts to pacify Iraq; it is not a pretty picture. (Feb. 12)

In the years following the September 11 attacks, supporters and critics of the Bush administration have debated its broad expansion of executive authority. Syracuse professor Roberts breaks decisively from these assertions, instead arguing that the Bush administration has repeatedly failed to consolidate presidential authority. Where critics decry recent infringements on civil liberties, the author counters that, in comparison to previous historical crises, legal and social protections have limited the scope of these infringements. Similarly, the realities of geo-politics have constrained espoused changes in foreign policy typified by the Bush Doctrine advocating preemptive action against threats to American interests. The author insists that the institutional design of the federal government and political shifts of the 1960s and 1970s have made the consolidation of executive power extremely difficult. This provocative, intelligent book will likely challenge the opinions of Bush's champions and detractors alike. With his simple but compelling central argument that “personnel may change, but the broad constraints on federal action do not shift so readily,” Roberts suggests that institutional forces have shaped American politics more profoundly than the personalities and aspirations of those in power. (Feb.)

In her brisk and flattering analysis of China's charge into the high-tech market, Fannin spotlights 12 Eastern “technopreneurs” who are giving Silicon Valley mainstays a run for their money. Identifying her profile subjects “the next Thomas Edison” or “the next Rupert Murdoch,” and their companies as “MySpace China” and the like, the former Red Herring news editor supports her observational thesis with data and anecdotes from a variety of Western and Eastern CEOs, professors and financial analysts. Drawing parallels between the “Middle Kingdom's” growth and the height of the dot-com bubble, Fannin also takes care to note that most of her China-born “sea turtles'” were educated in the West, but returned to their homeland to take advantage of growing markets there. If anything, her writing overly praises Chinese entrepreneurships' reach in the world, choosing to gloss over negative statistics and paying controversial social issues—such as censorship of China's Internet sites—mere lip service. Overall, Fannin is best at tracing her subject's mostly humble beginnings through Mao's Cultural Revolution to the self-made Internet era as the tech world searches for the next Bill Gates. Given the sheer number of Chinese expected to be alive in the next decade, new media moguls (and profitable IPOs) are inevitable. (Feb.)

Despite having all the elements of an absorbing drama—life and death in exotic locales, heroic doctors working in the shadow of the Khmer Rouge, corrupt officials and impoverished citizens—this intermittently atmospheric memoir never truly captivates. Heinzl, a Canadian physician who founded his country's chapter of Médecins Sans Frontières, starts his account with the experience that catalyzed his interest in the international humanitarian organization: in 1985, he abandoned a medical school elective in Kenya to see the war in Uganda. Jumping ahead six years, the disjointed narrative stitches together Heinzl's recollections of his first posting at a rudimentary hospital in war-ravaged Sisophon, Cambodia; his frustration with MSF politics and bureaucracy, and experiences as a bar rang or white foreigner. But in this dispassionate account, Heinzl never transcends his outsider status, nor does he seem to try. One of his biggest problems is how to spend his relative wealth—$50 per month, which brings longed-for luxuries like Cuban cigars all the way from Amsterdam. Among the most vivid scenes are Heinzl's early visit to Angkor Wat and his stay, against MSF policy, at a five-star hotel in Phnom Penh shortly before leaving Cambodia. When he burns out after six months, he doesn't seem to have earned his escape. Instead, Heinzl comes off as an intrepid traveler whose relief work is less a calling than a ticket to adventure. (Feb.)

Financial Times and Slate.com columnist Harford (The Undercover Economist) provides an entertaining and provocative look at the logic behind the seemingly irrational. Arguing that rational behavior is more widespread than most people expect, Harford uses economic principles to draw forth the rational elements of gambling, the teenage oral sex craze, crime and other supposedly illogical behaviors to illustrate his larger point. Utilizing John von Neumann and Thomas Schelling's conceptions of game theory, Harford applies their approach to a multitude of arenas, including marriage, the workplace and racism. Contrarily, he also shows that individual rational behavior doesn't always lead to socially desired outcomes. Harford concludes with how to apply this thinking on an even bigger scale, showing how rational behavior shapes cities, politics and the entire history of human civilization. Well-written with highly engaging stories and examples, this book will be of great interest to Freakonomics and Blink fans as well as anyone interested in the psychology of human behavior. (Feb.)

Senior Time editor Sullivan says “trying to understand American politics without looking at religion would be like trying to understand the politics of the Middle East without paying attention to oil.” Her fresh look at the “God gap” reveals the chasm's depths and offers a bridge across. Sullivan, an evangelical, discusses party process as the Catholic and white evangelical vote for Democrats declined sharply in the 1980s. The story of this shift is as fascinating as it is timely. Starting in the 1960s, she traces the Second Vatican Council's impact on Catholics and the rise of Jerry Falwell's Moral Majority, and the effects of these changes upon politics. Sullivan focuses with special sharpness on John Kerry, “a case study in how to mishandle religion during a political race” and challenges the conventional wisdom “that the right was religious and the left wanted religion scrubbed from the public square.” Evangelical and political conservatives may be related, but they are not synonymous, says Sullivan; Clinton, after all, is “a genuine Southern evangelical.” Sullivan's account argues persuasively and optimistically that “politically liberal and theologically orthodox” evangelicals can be brought back to the Democratic Party. Must reading for Democrats. (Feb.)

Management guru Handy quotes Voltaire, “How infinitesimal is the importance of anything I do, but how infinitely important it is that I do it.” That combination of modesty and determination underlies this autobiography from title to final page. Born in 1932, raised in Ireland and educated at Oxford, Handy disappointed his family by entering “trade” for Shell Oil in Asia. Returning to London, he embarked on a career that included teaching, writing, broadcasting the BBC Thought for the Day and consulting and managing quasi-public entities. Because his family valued humility, he felt handicapped: “A becoming modesty was urged on us.... But if you don't shout, how do you let other people know you are there?” Handy muses about this issue amid the story of his steadily growing success, offering advice on topics from how to live one's life to how to run the economy. The book's British tone is gently quaint and introspective, unlike typical American management consulting books. M.B.A.s who were taught to be aggressive fast may either be confused or find this book to be a good antidote. It will certainly appeal most to those who want to slow down the pace of their lives, while traveling farther. (Feb.)

On his 1970 Guggenheim Fellowship, Papageorge sought “to document as clearly and as completely as possible the phenomena of professional sport in America.” To Papageorge, the “theater of spectator and sport is comprised of a thousand brief acts.” This collection mostly shows audiences taking in America's greatest pastimes—baseball and football—on campuses and in professional parks throughout 1970, the year that 4,221 American troops died in the Vietnam War and four students were killed at Kent State University. This politically tense year in American history is captured from the sidelines in photographs with formal elegance and hilarious happenstance that reveal the country's escapist tendencies. In one image, competing newspaper headlines say it all: “Baltimore Wins First One” leads the Cincinnati Post, whereas the Kentucky Post reports on a “Secret attempt to buy city hall,” suggesting radically different ideas of what is worth noticing and reporting. Many of Papageorge's photos reveal people either intensely watching or paying no attention whatsoever, but it is Papageorge who invites us to look and look closely at a majorette's baton, lines that separate spectators from police and the head of a veteran's memorial that nearly vanishes into a tree. The results are utterly absorbing and seamless in their poetry. 70 b&w photos. (Feb.)

Award-winning South African journalist Steinberg, a gay white man, conceived this book to understand the AIDS crisis in his country and, to a limited degree, in himself: though HIV testing and treatment are readily accessible, he wondered, why did so many abstain? Steinberg journeys to the poor black village of Ithanga, where antiretrovirals (ARVs) are available, but electricity and running water are not. He examines the disease through the pseudonymous Sizwe Magadla, a 30-year-old shopkeeper who has resisted testing. Sizwe becomes Steinberg's interpreter and explains the village's traditional health-care system in which witchcraft thrives and Western medical missionaries challenge healers and herbalists. Steinberg traces Sizwe's growing awareness of the myths and realities of “the three letters”—one persistent belief, that whites created and deployed HIV as a means to regain power, echoes the legacy of apartheid still overshadowing the country—and his attempts to reconcile cultural beliefs with increasingly unassailable medical facts. Steinberg becomes intertwined with his subject, but balances critical distance and compassion with gleanings from his own psychological barriers to HIV testing that further deepen the concern and understanding he accords to Sizwe's story. (Feb.)

Hodgkinson picks up right where his previous and immensely entertaining Guitar Man left off. After learning to play the guitar and perform on stage in only six months, with the help of fret board luminaries such as the Smiths' Johnny Marr, Hodgkinson attempts to learn how to write songs and then get them recorded, although this time he gives himself a year to do it all. When his first songs are met by his friends with less than enthusiasm (“Are you going to sing 'Mystery Fox' to Hal David and Carole King?”), Hodgkinson seeks out various songwriters such as XTC's Andy Partridge who are more encouraging (“At least it's a good title”). One of Hodgkinson's most endearing features—and one that his prose perfectly captures—is his utter lack of fear. In his humbling, and enjoyable, musical journey, he's willing to talk with unknown songwriters as well as Andrew Lloyd Webber (“With perfect grace he found a way of agreeing with whatever inanity spewed from my mouth before explaining aspects of his craft with eloquence”). (Feb)

Cojocaru, a “red carpet” correspondent for Entertainment Tonight and the Insider, was enjoying a fabulous, glamorous life, making a living by trading drinks and naughty secrets with all the Hollywood hotties. “Cojo” would talk “pig latin with Shakira,” advise Gwyneth on her cleavage or needle Jude Law about his eyelash extensions to see if he'd blush. But then Cojo's campy, air-kissed lifestyle came to an abrupt halt when his doctor discovered he had PKD, polycystic kidney disease. At first, denial seemed his only option, since telling his family would unleash a major emotional tsunami and telling his friends would trigger the usual Hollywood avoidance of the diseased. Clueless about how to handle a major life problem, he self-medicated with old movies, picturing himself as Garbo in Camille, until he had no choice but to start treatment. His first kidney transplant failed; he learned to do peritoneal dialysis awaiting his second transplant, a gift from his mother. After all this, he also was beginning to understand how to live a healthier life, both physically and spiritually. Such a disease-recovery story could be utterly sappy, but Cojo is too funny, too aware of how ridiculous he is, to get maudlin. His story's a great pick-me-up for any girlfriend (male or female) facing serious unpleasantness. (Feb.)

Pope John Paul II's personal secretary, who is now Cardinal Dziwisz, had an insider's view of many of the events that shaped John Paul II's pontificate. Dziwisz was a seminary student in Krakow when he first encountered the man then known as Karol Wojtyla. He later became a close and trusted ally of the pope for four decades. The author does not hide his glowing opinion of the deceased pontiff; as he describes it, John Paul II stood courageously against the oppressive Communist regime in his native Poland, supported the nascent Solidarity movement and was beloved by people of all nations and religions around the globe. These two men enjoyed an intimate friendship and shared a love for Catholicism and their priesthood. Perhaps it is the closeness of that friendship that prevents Dziwisz from criticizing John Paul II for anything he did as pope. For example, his claim that “John Paul II's entire pontificate was a continual implementation of Vatican II” is widely debated. Despite the hagiographical tone, one thing is clear—John Paul II was a formidable world figure in the latter half of the 20th century, and he never allowed his position to affect his ability to be a good friend. (Mar. 11)

Television writer and producer Merchant believes that much damage has been done by the religious right and that the so-called “culture war” should not be the focus of the Christian faith. He's working on a documentary about loving the people one may disagree with, encouraging dialogue instead of harsh slogans. It's a fine idea, but this book of the same name as the film is a somewhat disjointed collection of transcripts. Merchant dons a suit plastered with bumper stickers to interview passersby in Times Square, and interviews notable faith-and-politics leaders including Tony Campolo, Rick Santorum, Al Franken and Michael Reagan. He sits down with a man who dresses as a nun in San Francisco, confesses his lack of love to homosexuals at the Pride Northwest festival and participates in a foot-washing for the homeless in Portland. The interviews and characters presented can be compelling and thought-provoking, though the book feels scattered and rushed, incorporating multiple outrageous, made-for-the-screen moments. Merchant reiterates popular themes but without the thoughtfulness of Jim Wallis or the research of David Kinnaman's unChristian, and the concluding list of questions is particularly unsatisfying. (Mar. 11)

Of the making of Jesus books there appears to be no end. Although Wilson, professor of religious studies at Toronto's York University, treads familiar ground already covered by Geza Vermes in Jesus the Jew and Amy-Jill Levine in The Misunderstood Jew, he provokes new thoughts about Jesus' identity. Taking up where Robert Eisenman left off in James, the Brother of Jesus, Wilson calls his argument the “Jesus Cover-Up Thesis” and claims that the religion of Paul displaced the teachings of Jesus so that Paul's preaching about a divine gentile Christ covered up the human Jewish Jesus. Wilson helpfully surveys the political, social and religious contexts of ancient Palestine, demonstrating that the religion of James, the brother of Jesus, was much closer to the religious practice of Jesus himself, but that the followers of Paul suppressed Jesus' teachings in favor of their own leader. Wilson challenges the veracity of the book of Acts, arguing that the followers of Paul created these tales to support the heroic character of their founder in his quest to establish a new religion. Wilson's instructive book introduces important questions about early Christianity for those unfamiliar with the debates about the historical Jesus. (Mar.)

At first glance, this spiritual autobiography might appear to be another of those rags-to-riches memoirs that retired business owners love to write. Happily, Beiler puts an unusual “twist” on her story, interweaving the chronicle of her business's startup and phenomenal growth (farmer's market stand in 1988, 700 domestic and 119 foreign locations 15 years later) with a candid personal account of bereavement, abuse and adultery; family and workplace struggles; and extended periods of grief and depression. Sometimes the chronological leapfrogging can be confusing—are we in Texas now, or Pennsylvania? and what year is it again?—but often insights from one time period illuminate struggles from another as Beiler alternates between incredible naïveté, especially about predatory males, and sharp-eyed business savvy. Money does play an important role: “I see God giving you things you wouldn't believe,” a friend predicts. “I see houses, I see land, I see cars....” Yet Beiler's first priority is philanthropy, not accumulation. Religious readers will appreciate not only her generosity but also her inspirational accounts of prophecies, answered prayers and, above all, forgiveness. (Mar.)

How did personal faith go from something John F. Kennedy needed to distance himself from to something recent presidential candidates have been eager to embrace publicly? Balmer, an eminent historian and first-rate storyteller, recounts familiar material in a way that's fresh. He wisely suggests that genuine blame for misuse of religion in public rests with voters, not politicians. But a running quarrel with the “religious right”—unannounced in the title—seems the real raison d'être for this book, and many arguments and examples will be familiar to readers of the author's Thy Kingdom Come. Balmer marshals impressive evidence that the religious right arose in reaction to government interference with racist religious schools. But he often tends to overstate and sometimes omits key facts. Balmer traces the right's slow response to 1973's Roe v. Wade decision by quoting the Southern Baptist Convention's initial support of Roe, without noting that the takeover of that church by fundamentalists came later and largely over that issue. Most oddly, Balmer describes the war in Iraq as America's first aggressive military campaign “in history.” These eccentricities make the book feel agenda-driven, and render questionable even its many points of wisdom. (Mar.)

Christians have long struggled over discerning where and how God leads in their lives, a “tense sensitivity” as described by Packer, an evangelical theologian, and Nystrom, a freelance writer who has collaborated with him before. The pair delves deep into the Bible and Christian tradition to reveal the many layers associated with God's guidance, a concept that “for many Christian people evokes both fascination and fear.” First comes a spiritual health checkup, because without spiritual health “things simply won't come right.” The keys to true God-given guidance come from reliance on God's teachings and commandments in scripture; spiritual wisdom; advice from godly friends; relevant models from the past; and, finally, the Holy Spirit. Each chapter is a thorough, logical and meaty discussion of the many dimensions of the subject, often addressing mistakes and misconceptions regarding how exactly God leads. God's guidance, the authors say, is part of his larger ministry to us. That guidance applies to every large and small decision, and peace comes when “the solution has been found.” Packer's books are not for folks looking for a quick fix, but for those eagerly searching for deep understanding and willing to read carefully. Added benefits are a discussion of situation ethics and some reflection questions. (Mar.)

Anyone who has ever had a strained maternal relationship, harbored a secret addiction, felt the unrelenting pressure of the sandwich generation or struggled to access God's grace through it all should read this beautifully pitched memoir. Slattery (The Grace to Grow) writes of growing up with an emotionally distant mother and a father who eventually slid away into alcoholism. Pressured about her weight, Slattery became bulimic in high school and carried this devastating secret for years. Even after finding Christ in college, she continued to struggle with the cycle of weakness, capitulation and self-loathing until she began to heal with the help of a loving husband. Bits and pieces of the tense mother-daughter relationship thread through the story, until finally, her mother moves into the in-law apartment attached to her home, and Slattery gradually becomes her primary caregiver as her mother's health declines. The grace and insights that leak out over the final decade of their time together soften the harsh edges of Slattery's life story and bring the memoir to a gentle, satisfyingly redemptive close: “In God's economy, nothing in life goes to waste.” (Mar.)

What does it mean to bless others and ourselves? In this collection of O'Donohue's poetic prayers, the author of Beauty and Anam Cara focuses on bringing God's blessings into the liminal spaces in our lives: times of transition, grieving, change or preparation for the unknown. Some of the blessings are for specific situations that are bread-and-butter staples of other prayer books, such as benedictions over births, weddings, new jobs or new homes. Others are unexpected and bravely dark, including a prayer for the loved ones left behind after a suicide, or for a parent after the death of a child. O'Donohue is not afraid to tackle the fear and guilt that many harbor secretly, bringing shame and addiction out into the open even while celebrating new life and new love. His writing is sensitive and deep: “As light departs to let the earth be one with night, Silence deepens in the mind, and thoughts grow slow; The basket of twilight brims over with colors,” he says of evening Vespers. The book closes with the Irish priest's personal—and often profound—musings on the act of blessing, drawing on Celtic spirituality and the wisdom of poets and philosophers. (Feb. 19)

Impelled by a life-changing religious experience and a host of questions about God's role in the world, Spayde set out on a road trip to “understand Jesus and the people who love him.” The former editor of the Utne Reader, Spayde also sought to confront some of his own liberal preconceptions about Christian conservatives and to explore the tension between faith and intellect. Crisscrossing America in his search for revelatory spiritual narratives, Spayde interviewed 34 men and women of very diverse beliefs and experiences. They included a controversial retired Episcopal bishop, married evangelical urban missioners, a Mormon convert and screenwriter, a bisexual author and spiritual director and the Catholic priest who is Toronto's poet laureate. Weaving his own narrative with those of the women and men he portrays, Spayde came to believe that faith is more about action than about correct doctrine. Surrendering to God, he asserts, is encouraged through tradition, relationship and community, and cultivated in an appreciation of the mystery at its heart. So many of the stories recounted here are compelling that readers may wish that Spayde had gone into some in more detail—or saved some for another volume. (Feb. 12)

When a papal legate was murdered in southern France in 1208, Pope Innocent III's reaction was swift and harsh. Convinced that the villages between Montpelier and Bordeaux were hideouts for heretics and accusing the count of Toulouse of protecting them, the pope issued his now famous plea for all knights and barons to be “signed with the cross” and to drive out all heretics in a great crusade. The Albigensian Crusade was the only one of the medieval crusades to pit Christian against Christian. In this lively and fast-paced inaugural book in Oxford's “Pivotal Moments in World History” series, Pegg grippingly retells the story of a crusade built on legend, not truth. The pope preached to his armies that whoever slaughtered these alleged heretics would not only cleanse his own soul but the soul of Christendom as well. This crusade, as Pegg remarkably demonstrates, introduced genocide into the world and paved the way for Christians to engage in the inquisitions against Jews and the crusades against Muslims that marked the remainder of the Middle Ages. Drawing on numerous primary documents, Pegg's compelling history offers fresh glimpses into the nature of religious violence as well as the easy ways that religions often fall into intolerance. (Feb.)

What did the founding fathers believe about God and the Bible? Unitarian Universalist minister Kowalski (The Souls of Animals) joins the chorus of answers with this elegantly written book, which clearly situates the founders in an Enlightenment tradition that privileged reason. Charting a middle ground between those who claim the founders either as orthodox Christians or total skeptics, Kowalski argues that they were “religious liberals” who believed in a Creator and in moral law. Benjamin Franklin was more interested in solving scientific riddles than in “otherworldly mysteries”; nonetheless, he became friendly with revivalist George Whitefield. For George Washington, who harbored some doubts about Christian doctrine, Christianity was more about right behavior than belief. Thomas Jefferson believed in Providence and remained an Episcopalian all his life, but was more at home with classical learning than faith. James Madison, Thomas Paine and John Adams receive similarly nuanced treatments. Kowalski illustrates his arguments with just the right quotations from the founders themselves, and his economy of prose is to be commended: he never belabors his points. This slim volume will sit nicely on the shelf with similar offerings by Forrest Church, Jon Meacham and David Holmes. (Feb.)

In this engrossing history of the religion clauses of the First Amendment, Nussbaum (Cultivating Humanity) makes a strong, thoroughgoing case for America as a haven of religious liberty for believers of all stripes. Beginning with an illuminating rehabilitation of Rhode Island founder Roger Williams as America's earliest defender of religious equality, Nussbaum continues by examining how Williams's ideals have been both upheld and abandoned throughout the nation's history. After detailing the adoption of the establishment and free exercise clauses, Nussbaum comments at length on how these fairly general, vague clauses have been fleshed out by more than two centuries of case law. Refreshingly, Nussbaum does not add to the acrimonious cacophony around the idea of separation of church and state. Rather than pushing for strict separation, she argues for what philosopher John Rawls calls “overlapping consensus,” which echoes Williams's belief that citizens who differ greatly on matters of ultimate meaning can still agree to respect each other's liberty of conscience. Nussbaum writes engagingly and with generosity; her critiques, particularly those of opinions written by Justices Scalia and Thomas, are pointed but respectful, and she demonstrates warm regard for Supreme Court plaintiffs who have braved persecution as they have followed the dictates of conscience. (Feb.)

The recent spate of books from atheists such as Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and (most stridently) Christopher Hitchens has prompted many pundits and scholars to label the trend “the New Atheism.” Haught uses the term, but argues that there is nothing really new about the New Atheism; it is instead a rehashing of antireligious arguments that are as old as the Enlightenment. In fact, Haught criticizes the New Atheism as being “theologically unchallenging,” its all-or-nothing thinking representing “about the same level of reflection on faith that one can find in contemporary creationist and fundamentalist literature.” Haught draws upon theologians such as Tillich, Bultmann, Ricoeur, McFague and Pannenberg to refute some of the New Atheists' most common contentions. Through most of Haught's book, his approach is straight theism, with the exclusively or specifically Christian arguments coming near the end. Although this book is more accessible than some of Haught's earlier theological work (e.g., Is Nature Enough?), it is still challenging and serious; readers will need to follow scientific, theological, philosophical and logical threads to keep up. The reward is worth it, however, as Haught lays out the fundamental issues clearly and without the vitriol that has characterized Hitchens et al. as well as many of their interlocutors. (Feb.)

Hall, who teaches theological ethics at Duke, combines perceptive reading with stirring criticism of the corporate-inspired family ideals that have come to pervade the American Christian mainstream. Focusing on the Methodist experience, Hall's narrative potentially resonates across the theological spectrum. How did a denomination with roots in gospel activism come to be so captivated by images of material and technological progress delivered by corporate marketing? Hall mines church publications and popular media to reveal several dynamics at work. Partly because of its attempts to market itself as part of the American dream, the mid-century church became infatuated with an image of the ideal family that inevitably, if unintentionally, encouraged middle-class Protestants to insulate their families from their troubled neighbors. At the same time, corporate and scientific messages undermined the confidence of parents—and particularly mothers—in natural or traditional ways of providing for their children without commercial products and expert advice. Aspiration and anxiety combined to create families that were more focused on themselves, less secure in their Christian identity and less engaged in mission to others. Contrasting these trends with the example of Christ and the unifying message of the sacraments, Hall invites her readers to wage a “resistance” and reconsider “the least of these.” (Feb.)

When Cupid fails to come your way, there's always a self-help book—or better yet, a love poem—for Valentine's Day.

This literary valentine edited by poet and translator Scheu-Riesz presents epistolary marriage proposals by historical figures. Grouped by era (Renaissance, Baroque, Victorian, etc.) and including declarations of love by Henry VIII, Abraham Lincoln and Victor Hugo, these letters offer models for popping the question for those without their own personal Cyrano de Bergerac. By turns funny and sincere, with delightful illustrations, this is a great gift for the paramour who's reluctant to settle down and might take the hint. (Jan. 8)

If you can tolerate reading about “getting into the feeling place,” “getting that buzz” and sending “good vibrations,” then perhaps professional matchmaker (and former model and actress) Martenson has some wisdom for you. She recommends gaining self-confidence with daily affirmations (“Love pours into my life from every corner of the universe”), accentuating the positive, “let go of the negative” and love will come. More usefully, she emphasizes knowing what you do and don't want in a soul mate and how to assess whether a relationship is headed in the right direction. (Feb.)

Raising children can make it difficult for single fathers to get back into the dating scene. With sympathy and good sense, journalist Fisher (Mom, There's a Man in the Kitchen and He's Wearing Your Robe) and psychologist Halpern remind men that children are impressionable and easily confused, so proper etiquette is vital. The authors explain how to balance time between kids and a love interest, when to introduce them and how to handle the fallout if things don't go well. (Jan. 29)

Who'd know more about picking up hot women than the only woman to be both a Playboy Playmate of the Month and a Penthouse Pet of the Year? Also a clinical psychologist and sex therapist, Zdrok advises men on everything from what to wear on a date to how to “eroticize your love den.” While some of the advice is obvious (brush your teeth regularly), there are also fun and helpful tidbits like what to talk about on a first date and foreign-language phrases that will make you sound smart. A useful book for the man who knows absolutely nothing about women. (Jan. 8)

In 1986, Kooser (U.S. poet laureate 2004–2006) started a tradition. He sent a Valentine's Day poem on a postcard to 50 women. Over the past 30 years, he's sent his annual poem to an increasing number of women (in 2007 there were 2,600 recipients). This collection presents all the postcard poems plus one more, dedicated to Kooser's wife, Kathleen. Accompanied by drawings by Robert Hanna, each poem is a unique snapshot of love. The poet says it best himself: “all my life, I have wanted nothing so much as the love of women.” (Feb.)

The death of the charismatic Brazilian chief of the U.N. Mission to Iraq in a 2003 terrorist bombing symbolized both the U.N.'s haplessness—he died because rescuers lacked the training and equipment to free him from the rubble—and its idealism. In this sprawling biography, Vieira de Mello's life symbolizes the tragic contradictions of coping with humanitarian crises. Journalist Power, author of the Pulitzer-winning The Problem from Hell: America and the Age of Genocide, follows Vieira de Mello through a U.N. career spent in hot spots like Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia and Kosovo. His tasks were many: implementing peace accords, settling refugees, overseeing elections, running the government of East Timor. In each posting, he confronts a hydra-headed monster of communal violence and poverty, plus difficulties compounded by U.N. red tape, miserly budgets and uncaring Western governments. Agonizing dilemmas abound. Should refugees be fed or sent home? Should U.N. peacekeepers observe or intervene? Should past atrocities be prosecuted or overlooked? Playing by ear, Vieira de Mello charts an erratic course through these conundrums. Sometimes he's a human rights zealot, sometimes he cozies up to the Khmer Rouge; sometimes he negotiates with the Serbs, sometimes he wants to bomb them.

Vieira de Mello comes off as a charming diplomat, a canny politician and an inspiring leader, and the author celebrates his flexibility and pragmatism (while criticizing his failures). Power wants to extract lasting lessons for the international community's efforts to head off humanitarian catastrophes and mend failed states from his experience. Unfortunately, it's hard to discern through his improvisations any systematic approach to nation building or to such vexed issues as humanitarian military intervention and regime change. The lack of perspective isn't helped by the biographical format, as the peripatetic Vieira de Mello jets from one conflagration to the next, then on to a romantic getaway with a mistress or to give a murky speech on Kant. We get the impression that U.N. missions are inevitably a hopeless muddle unless Sergio, with his unique talents, parachutes in to fix things; the book may thus inadvertently encourage critics of the U.N.-style interventionism that Power supports. Readers will gain an appreciation of Vieira de Mello's gifts, but not the method to his magic. B&w photos. (Mar. 6)