Nonfiction Reviews: Week of 2/11/2008

Historian Day (Claiming a Continent) surveys the justifications that nations have offered for conquering other peoples, and lays out the process of claiming a territory by a symbolic act like planting a flag, then by mapping the land and naming it. Many of his examples are familiar—the Spanish in Central and South America, the Germans in Eastern Europe. But he includes less familiar instances, such as Japan's 18th-century takeover of the Ainu culture on the island of Hokkaido and the contest between the Dutch, French and English to claim Australia. As interesting as Day's stories are, he comes up short on interpretation and analysis. Much more could have been made, for example, of the impact of population pressures. And the book lacks almost any examples of conquests in the ancient world, a striking omission when one considers that modern nations have looked to Egypt, Persia, Greece and Rome for models in their own empire building. Nevertheless, history buffs' curiosity will be piqued by Day's accounts of lesser known conquests. Maps. (June)

Comprehensive and fascinating, this critical biography of one of the leading filmmakers of the French New Wave, Jean-Luc Godard, by New Yorker editor and film critic Brody offers the significant events and achievements of the cinematic innovator who combined an eye-opening concoction of art, politics, music, personal values and social mores. The author reveals an isolated yet driven creative genius who rises from writing articles for the pioneering Cahiers du Cinéma magazine with Truffaut, Rivette and Rohmer to soaring early successes with his films Breathless, Contempt, Masculine Feminine, A Married Woman to the later controversial gems, First Name: Carmen, Hail Mary and Detective. Godard, according to Brody, compares in critical importance to Picasso in his artistry, as the director's puzzling complexity is revealed through scores of interviews with family, colleagues and crew. Throughout the book, the key personal elements of Godard's chaotic love life provide added spark. This is a completely enjoyable and revealing account of an enigmatic director whose singular creativity will not allow him to make commercial compromises. (May)

In July 1961, Rotolo, a shy 17-year-old from Queens, met an up-and-coming young folk singer named Bob Dylan at an all-day folk festival at Riverside Church in Manhattan, and her life changed forever. For the next few years, Suze and Bobby lived a freewheeling life amid the bohemians in the emerging folk scene in Greenwich Village. Rotolo offers brief glimpses of the denizens populating the new music scene below 14th Street in the early '60s and recalls the excitement as writers and musicians like Dylan wandered in and out of each other's lives and apartments, trading music and lyrics to produce a new sound that would change American music. Yet as the woman who's clutching Dylan's arm on the cover of his second album Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, Rotolo doesn't give us a very freewheelin' memoir. She offers shallow, almost schoolgirl-like reflections on the man she loved and lived with for three years. In a dull and plodding manner, Rotolo provides no new insights into Dylan, claiming, as have so many, that he is mysterious and enigmatic. In an excerpt from one of her journals, she writes ambivalently that she believes in his genius and that he is an extraordinary writer, but that she doesn't think he's an honorable person. (May)

In this spirited response to the controversial 2004 New York Times Magazine's cover story “The Opt-Out Revolution” claiming that America's most educated women are choosing motherhood over careers, feminist activist Richards (coauthor, Grassroots) reminds readers of the real strides the women's movement has made in allowing women to choose and juggle both. The initial uneasiness in reconciling motherhood with feminism (e.g., dependence vs. independence) has largely been eclipsed, notes Richards, despite the misleading headlines. From diaper-changing stations in both men's and women's restrooms to the Family and Medical Leave Act, flextime and on-site childcare in the workplace, “feminism's investment in parenting is undeniable,” she writes. Her work incorporates her own experience raising two sons with her unmarried partner while maintaining an important identity in women's causes such as cofounder of the Third Wave Foundation and Soapbox. Scrolling through solid feminist history, she cogently examines issues involving mothers such as “to work or not to work”; the mania over one's “biological clock”; nonsexist child-rearing; balancing household work; and nurturing friendships with women and one's own mother. Overall, Richards strongly urges women to educate themselves about the achievements of the first waves of feminists and to advocate actively in their community for self-worth and dignity for all. (May)

In his charming and disarmingly serious study of the history of the “nerd” in popular culture and throughout modern history, Nugent (Elliott Smith and the Big Nothing) succeeds in crafting a nuanced discussion without resorting to smugness or excessive cleverness. His prose is straightforward, but the writing is never dry, as Nugent maintains a brisk pace by chasing an entertaining series of tangents across short chapters. Discrete pockets of nerd-dom are carefully observed and analyzed, with an eye for connections that lead to unusual places. While there are engaging sections about more obvious nerd subjects like the rise of online gaming and the history of American science-fiction clubs, Nugent takes his book in surprising directions, such as the ethnic implications of the “nerd” categorization, particularly in regard to Jewish and Asian stereotypes. In one chapter, Nugent finds correspondence between nerdiness and people with Asperger's syndrome, astutely drawing comparisons between the socializing problems experienced by both groups and positing that many of those considered “nerds” historically might in fact be on the autism spectrum. Another unexpected detour, this one into the intense subculture of high school and college debaters, turns into an extraordinarily poignant meditation on the friendships engendered by shared passions. Swinging ably from personal anecdotes to historical perspective, Nugent's exploration of outcasts is a triumph. (May)

In this account of the trial of controversial death row inmate Mumia Abu-Jamal, O'Connor, editor and publisher of crimemagazine.com, clearly lays out his case that Abu-Jamal should receive at least a new trial, if not complete exoneration. O'Connor asserts that Abu-Jamal was framed for the 1981 murder of police officer Daniel Faulkner because of a vendetta by Philadelphia mayor Frank Rizzo and the police due to Abu-Jamal's defense, as a journalist, of the cultish countercultural group MOVE. Relying heavily on court transcripts and prior books on the case, O'Connor shows what he sees as the judge's bias, troubled relations between Abu-Jamal and his defense lawyer and dubious statements by various witnesses. Abu-Jamal was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to death; later overturned, the sentence could still be reinstated pending a decision by the Third Circuit Court of Appeals. In the wake of Faulkner's widow's recent book alleging Abu-Jamal's guilt, it's difficult to be swayed entirely by O'Connor's arguments, but he makes a strong case that the investigation into Faulkner's murder deserves another look. (May)

In this vivid biography, Rensin (The Mailroom: Hollywood History from the Bottom Up) takes on a daunting task: to clarify the clouded myth of legendary surfer Miki Dora. Growing up in post-WWII California, the half-Hungarian Dora came to surfing in the 1950s and '60s, when it was still an oddball pastime of random kooks riding longboards made out of redwoods off nearly empty Los Angeles beaches. Dora's grace and signature style brought him attention as surfing grew into the central image of the California “endless summer.” Yet Dora was no ordinary beach bum, and his restless intelligence led him around the world in search of waves as yet unsullied by the masses. Dora also possessed a darker side and had no qualms about ripping off even his closest friends. His credit card scams eventually landed him in prison. Rensin faces a difficult task in tracking down an elusive and paranoid target (Dora died of pancreatic cancer in early 2002). After a muddled introduction in which Dora is compared to everyone from Muhammad Ali to the beat poets, Rensin lets Dora's friends, lovers and rivals tell the story. The result brings a remarkable focus to a man whose greatest accomplishments were written on water. Dora's life tracked the explosion of celebrity culture and it's hard not to sympathize with Dora's ambivalence about his fame. (Apr.)

Food writer Dunlop is better known in the U.K., where her comprehensive volumes on Sichuanese and Hunanese cuisine carved out her niche and eventually became contemporary classics. Turning to personal narrative through the backstory and consequences of her fascination with China, she produces an autobiographical food-and-travel classic of a narrowly focused but rarefied order. Dunlop's initial 1992 trip to Sichuan proved so enthralling that she later obtained a year's residential study scholarship in the provincial capital, Chengdu. There, her enrollment in the local Institute of Higher Cuisine, a professional chef's program, created a cultural exchange program of a specialized kind. The research for and success of her resulting cookbooks permitted Dunlop to return to China in a more experienced role as chef and writer; that led to this reflective memoir, which probes into the author's search for kitchens in the Forbidden City as well as the people and places of remote West China. One key to this supple and affectionate book is its time frame: by arriving in China in the middle of vast economic upheavals, Dunlop explored and experienced the country and its culture as it was transforming into a postcommunist communism. (Apr.)

Woolf's awkwardly puerile memoir of pregnancy and early motherhood dives between partying and feeling guilty. Stunned by the news of her pregnancy at age 23, the author, a freelance writer and native of the San Diego suburbs, was unmarried at the time, living alone with two dogs and fond of drinking and smoking all night with her friends. The pregnancy takes her and Hal, the man she's been dating for four months, by surprise: are they having this baby and should they move in with each other? Eventually they moved into the “Valley” and braced themselves for the baby, a boy, Archer. They ended up marrying in Las Vegas and growing closer despite frequent fights. When Archer was slow to crawl and to speak, the author grudgingly took him to specialists (not wanting to acknowledge he was less than perfect), and speech therapy was prescribed. Yet Woolf missed her freedom, and while she demonstrates her unconditional love for her boy, even publishing intimate letters she wrote him on the anniversary of his birth, she sheds humor on her experience (“I have agreed to put Archer in speech therapy... he should probably know some English if he plans on doing anything extraordinary for America”). (Apr.)

For readers who possess the mildest interest in reading about music or how the mysterious process of learning to play a musical instrument is transferred from teacher to student, this well-composed narrative will be a joy to read. Those so inclined will undoubtedly revel in Tunstall's elegant prose based on her 15 years as a private music teacher. She offers graceful discussions of tonal music, how the “pull of pop” music has altered the musical environment and why the “astonishingly hardy phenomenon” of the recital endures in our culture. But for those tempted to dismiss this slim volume because they've never had a music lesson or read a score, this too short memoir offers a rare glimpse into a fascinating world. Tunstall cites her students, “the endlessly interesting and varied young people who have sat on my piano bench for six days a week for many years,” as the inspiration for the story. She weaves together her insights into the role music plays in the development of self, why teaching kids how to practice is a “central preoccupation” for piano teachers and what advanced piano students have discovered about themselves. This is a gem that deserves a wide audience. (Apr.)

Despite the rather prurient title, Cohen's memoir is a deeply poignant, desperately sad account of a confused, directionless adolescent girl's free fall into self-abnegation. Growing up affluent in New Jersey in the 1980s and smarting from the recent breakup of her parents, 11-year-old Cohen begins to recognize the power her nubile body has over men. Being wanted becomes her greatest hope; once she and her older sister, Tyler, begin living with her father when her mother decides to attend med school in the Philippines, she latches onto other girls with whom she treks into New York City to bar hop at places like Dorian's Red Hand and pick up older, eager boys. Stunningly, the father is not alarmed by her early-morning absences, but seems to encourage her popularity, buying her clothes and treating her as a grownup. Gradually, hooking up with boys becomes a need, a way to bolster her faltering sense of self-worth. A litany of dreary sex acts follows with young men she doesn't particularly like and who don't like her, regardless of STD scares and a college rape. The painter mother of one of her boyfriends does initiate her into more intellectual pursuits, awakening a redemptive desire to become a writer. Cohen's memoir of a lost childhood is commendably honest and frequently excruciating to read. (Apr.)

Sontag, a doctor's daughter, grew up in a family that seemed every bit the normal, suburban ideal. She and her sister were raised to value book smarts as well as worldly experience. What those outside of the family didn't know was that the reason Sontag was so accomplished and committed to her extracurricular activities was that she would've done anything to get away from her father, Stephen. By enforcing a peculiar system of rules and consequences, he micromanaged every moment of her life, tape-recording her conversations, measuring the length of her fingernails and locking all the phones in a safe when he left the house. When Sontag broke the rules, regardless of circumstance, he would verbally abuse her for hours, dictating letters of apology from her to him (“I am a selfish, rotten, worthless brat,” etc.). Sontag's mother, Ellen, reneged on plans to divorce him for years, perhaps partly because Stephen prescribed her into complacency with lithium. In adulthood, Sontag found herself caught in self-defeating patterns that smacked of her father's thrall. Struggling to break free, she even resorted to homelessness before finally severing her relationship with Stephen. Sontag's is a brave account, not only of what it's like to take the brunt of an abusive parent's wrath, but of what it means to have the courage to leave. (Apr.)

“I was aware that this was a contraband item under the embargo against Cuban goods and that the embargo had been promulgated by the very man who had just pressed the cigar into my hand,” writes Styron about John F. Kennedy in the title essay of this fine new collection of mostly previously published work. Combined with Styron's muscular yet subtle language, a sense of self-revelation and insider clarity infuses the 14 essays like a lungful of fresh, crisp air. Mostly assembled by Styron shortly before his death in 2006, these perfectly crafted and deeply expressive essays range effortlessly from smoking the aforementioned stogies with JFK to his run-ins with editors during the editing of his first novel, Lie Down in Darkness. In one essay he describes a visit to Marilyn Monroe's grave with noted literary hellion Terry Southern: “he was scowling through his shades, looking fierce and, as always, a little confused and lost but, in any case... like a man already dreaming up wicked ideas.” Styron is known to most readers for his bestselling novels and painful etching of his bouts with crippling depression in Darkness Visible. These essays open up an entirely new territory to explore and appreciate for the fan and general reader alike. (Apr.)

The stories of acclaimed entrepreneurs like John Peterman (J. Peterman) and Gert Boyle (Columbia Sportswear), whose brands generate a cult-like loyalty from consumers, give this book a lively flavor that goes down better than any list of dry strategies. Author Vinjamuri—a marketing professor at New York University and the founder of a marketing training company—reports that “every brand I wanted to write about started with some fortuitous accident” visited upon perfectionists who “sweat every detail.” Gary Erickson, creator of the Clif Bar, is one such perfectionist; a long-distance cyclist disgusted with foul-tasting energy bars, he invented his own bar, more delicious and nutritious than any of its competitors. Another example is Roxanne Quimby, who was living in a tent in Maine with her five-year-old twin daughters when Burt Shavitz, a beekeeper, picked her up hitchhiking and inspired her Burt's Bees brand. Luck and good timing played a role for these businesspeople, but their success ultimately stemmed from an “ability to think like their own consumer.” Despite a tendency to digress, Vinjamuri has a similar understanding of his readers. The chapter he dedicates to his own conclusions is thoughtful enough, but not nearly as compelling as the stories of the entrepreneurs themselves. (Apr.)

Controversy has steadily shadowed the 1968 sinking of the U.S. nuclear submarine Scorpion. The navy's official version of accidental sinking on a routine mission was challenged by allegations that the Scorpion was in fact torpedoed while shadowing a Soviet task force. Further rumors indict the spy John Walker for providing confidential codes to the Soviets, enabling them to track the submarine. Yet another account purports that the Soviets destroyed the Scorpion in retaliation for the sinking of one of their own subs. The two navies eventually called a truce rather than risk further disrupting relations. Sewell, a submarine veteran, and Preisler, a writer of techno-thrillers, add little new evidence in their version of the story; their new data is unfailingly familiar and they never succeed in making a persuasive case for the conspiracy and cover-up they claim occurred. Instead, Sewell and Preisler devote more time to anecdotes about the Scorpion's crew and their families and little vignettes of the routines on board a nuclear sub. What is undeniably useful is the book's demonstration of the high numbers of accidents between ships and aircrafts that were accepted as routine during much of the Cold War. All Hands Down highlights a truth no less relevant today: international incidents are in good part constructions mutually agreed upon after the event. (Apr.)

With this book, Kepel and Milelli, professors at the Institute for Political Studies in Paris, have produced a seminal study of al-Qaeda, introducing the key texts and figures inspiring this still shadowy movement. Al-Qaeda's roots can be traced to Palestinian scholar/activist Abdallah Azzam, ”the Imam of Jihad,” whose writings imbued messianic and militant elements into the struggle in Afghanistan in the 1980s. Osama bin Laden, Ayman al-Zawahiri and Abu Musab al-Zarqawi were profoundly influenced by Azzam's work and eventually established “martyrdom operations” as the vehicle to secure religious legitimacy for their political aims. Al-Qaeda's writings, mostly disseminated electronically, emphasize Islam's unending struggle to establish its domination over its eternal enemies: the unbelievers, the infidels, the apostates. Kepel and Milelli compellingly present the online texts that serve as al-Qaeda's “doctrine,” dissecting the discourse and identifying the images and rhetoric al-Qaeda depends upon. This view of al-Qaeda from within presents sobering evidence of the threat al-Qaeda poses and is an indispensable read. (Apr.)

In this slim book, Guardian correspondent Goldenberg offers a critical but balanced look at the life and presidential candidacy of Hillary Clinton. Goldenberg examines the historical challenges facing women running for public office in the United States, drawing upon the presidential candidacy of Carol Moseley Braun and the vice-presidential run of Geraldine Ferraro, as well as representations of women in power in film and television. The book's brief biography of Clinton is no match for more thorough accounts found in Carl Bernstein's A Woman in Charge and in Clinton's memoir, Living History. Goldenberg pre-sents Clinton's history largely to contextualize her cautious centrist candidacy and to argue that she must abandon her “timidity” to retain the public's trust. While this book offers little fresh information or insight, it is a straightforward introduction to Clinton and her campaign. (Apr.)

Calls for a conversation about race crop up persistently—as in the wake of the Imus scandal or O.J. Simpson's acquittal. Jackson's (Harlemworld; Real Black) examination of how race remains singular in American consciousness proves a lively opening gambit to a thought-provoking analysis. After a loose historical survey of race matters before the 1960s, when “brash and brazen American racism” was mainstream, Jackson focuses on the current state of affairs in racial fears and distrust that have gone underground and express themselves as racial paranoia and “de cardio” racism (“what the law can't touch, what won't be easily proved or disproved, what can't be simply criminalized or deemed unconstitutional”). Racial paranoia, not “just 'a black thing,' ” owes much to the way mass media confirms or subverts stereotypes; de cardio racism is cloaked, “papered over with public niceties and politically correct jargon.” Jackson explores particularly fresh areas in his illuminating consideration of The Man Who Cried I Am and 1996, racial paranoia's canonical texts and in his attention to the McCarran Act's effect upon black thinkers. Passionate and committed Jackson is, but his content is balanced. Casually scholarly and often witty, Jackson offers the reader “new ways of talking about race's subtler dynamic and new ways of spying racial conflict in the twenty-first century.” (Apr.)

In the past five years, Latin America's new cadre of leftist leaders have been struggling to shake off the legacies of faltering economies and military dictatorships that have long haunted the region. Kozloff (Hugo Chavez: Oil, Politics, and the Challenge to the U.S.) offers a series of snapshots of steady transformation, focusing heavily on Venezuela's Chavez and key issues like oil, media and multiculturalism. Compiling current anecdotes and concise historical summaries, Kozloff describes a number of overlapping trends in the region, such as indigenous rights movements and revived labor unions, as well as a widespread desire for economic independence from the United States. Kozloff interprets these similarities as proof of increasing regional integration, but fails to provide adequate hard evidence. If anything, he succeeds in showing how the countries he writes about have moved away from cookie-cutter solutions and are each working to develop equitable societies on their own terms. (Apr.)

This engaging and deftly told book shines a light on a lesser-known victim of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict: Palestine's last zoo, located in battle-ravaged Qalqilya, surrounded by Israel. British journalist Thomas recounts a year and a half in the life of the zoo, following zoo veterinarian Dr. Sami Khader's dogged—often futile—attempts to transform a neglected menagerie into an institution of international caliber. An enormously sympathetic portrait emerges of Khader's travails—his grief over the deaths of beloved animals and his struggles to secure funding from a distracted government. Thomas crafts richly detailed depictions of the zoo, and her animal anecdotes are prefaced with meticulous—often tedious—histories of their origins (the introduction to the lion touches upon Charlemagne, Cicero and the 1893 Chicago World's Fair). Despite the lengthy historical asides, this book is a unique and fascinating account of one man's persistence and his fierce dedication to his animal friends. (Apr.)

Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) affects 1%–2% of Americans, according to Aboujaoude, director of the Impulse Control Disorders Center at Stanford's School of Medicine. In this short, highly readable book reminiscent of Irvin Yalom's Love's Executioner, Aboujaoude focuses on five case studies involving fear of contamination and invasion of personal space, trichotillomania (compulsive pulling out of one's hair), kleptomania, pathological gambling and what is called “problematic Internet use.” As he looks at both patients' behavior and his treatment of them, Aboujaoude demonstrates his combination of empathy and “habit reversal,” a cognitive behavioral therapy involving “increasing awareness” of the compulsive behavior and “enhancing motivation to reduce [it].”Most of Aboujaoude's interventions seem successful, though the compulsive Internet user, whose social anxiety led him to retreat into a virtual world, in effect drops out of treatment, his work and his relationship with his fiancée to devote himself to his online virtual alter ego, and another meets a tragic end. But whatever the success of his treatment, Aboujaoude consistently provides the reader with a refreshingly jargon-free and intimate look at what OCD looks and feels like. (Apr.)

McCullough, whose last three books were academic, targets a general audience in this exploration of the human capacity for both revenge and forgiveness. Schooling readers in the basics of natural selection, McCullough argues that despite popular belief that revenge is a disease, both revenge and forgiveness have been adaptive for our species. Acting as a chatty tour guide through a labyrinth of game theory and studies of human and animal behavior, McCullough explains not only why humans seek revenge in some cases and forgiveness in others, but also delineates the neurological, psychological, social, cultural and religious mechanisms behind these choices. McCullough approaches stories of extraordinary forgiveness with clear-eyed inquiry rather than misty-eyed reverence. What conditions, he asks, are most likely to lead to forgiveness instead of revenge? How can we create those conditions at a societal, even global level? While acknowledging that cycles of revenge seem unbreakable as they play out in a number of current conflicts, McCullough sees evidence of humanity's collective will to break these cycles. Such innovations as restorative justice and truth and reconciliation commissions seem capable of provoking humanity's hardwired impulse to forgive. Accessible but unsentimental, this book will appeal to all who wish to better understand forgiveness and how to engender it. (Apr. 4)

Why are we subject to irrational beliefs, inaccurate memories, even war? We can thank evolution, Marcus says, which can only tinker with structures that already exist, rather than create new ones: “Natural selection... tends to favor genes that have immediate advantages” rather than long-term value. Marcus (The Birth of the Mind), director of NYU's Infant Language Learning Center, refers to this as “kluge,” a term engineers use to refer to a clumsily designed solution to a problem. Thus, memory developed in our prehominid ancestry to respond with immediacy, rather than accuracy; one result is erroneous eyewitness testimony in courtrooms. In describing the results of studies of human perception, cognition and beliefs, Marcus encapsulates how the mind is “contaminated by emotions, moods, desires, goals, and simple self-interest....” The mind's fragility, he says, is demonstrated by mental illness, which seems to have no adaptive purpose. In a concluding chapter, Marcus offers a baker's dozen of suggestions for getting around the brain's flaws and achieving “true wisdom.” While some are self-evident, others could be helpful, such as “Whenever possible, consider alternate hypotheses” and “Don't just set goals. Make contingency plans.” Using evolutionary psychology, Marcus educates the reader about mental flaws in a succinct, often enjoyable way. (Apr. 16)

Understanding the nature of genetic inheritance was essential for evolution to be accepted as the dominant paradigm in biology. In a masterful work, science writer Schwartz looks at the science and the personalities behind that understanding, ranging from Darwin's belief in pangenesis to explain the inheritance of physical variations to Hermann Muller's Nobel Prize–winning work on X-rays and genetic mutation. Although he discusses the contributions of such luminaries as Francis Galton, William Bateson, Gregor Mendel, Hugo de Vries and Thomas Hunt Morgan, Schwartz provides far more than character sketches. In a thoroughly accessible manner, he offers insight into the critical experiments each undertook and allows readers to share the excitement of discovery. He also does a fabulous job of demonstrating the social nature of science, showing how competition often leads to unseemly actions and how the unwillingness to part with a favorite theory leads to an idiosyncratic interpretation of data. Schwartz illustrates how, despite all of this, science continues to make progress and our understanding of the world continues to grow. Although the history of genetics has been covered many times before, Schwartz brings unbridled energy, strong writing and a fresh perspective. 42 b&w illus. (Apr.)

This energetic but unfocused account awkwardly merges several strands: the author's experience with the threat of breast cancer, discussions of genetic inheritance in Jewish families and a look at how the ability to test for genetic predispositions to various diseases is changing lives. With a family history of breast cancer, journalist Gessen (Dead Again: The Russian Intelligentsia After Communism) was not surprised to learn she had inherited a “deleterious mutation” in the BRCA1 gene, one of two genes known to be linked to breast and ovarian cancer. The BRCA1 mutation was first discovered in Jewish women, a “compact population” with a higher-than-average breast cancer rate. Gessen describes her narrow options, with “nondirective counseling” steering her toward prophylactic removal of her breasts and ovaries. Then she jumps the track to talk about Dr. Henry Lynch, who, in 1966, first suggested that predisposition to cancer might be hereditary. Gessen also covers Huntington's disease, maple syrup disease among Old Order Mennonites, eugenics and how a genetic testing program is affecting marital choices for some Orthodox Jews. Gessen covers a fair amount of ground, but in a haphazard fashion. The book's strongest parts are on genetics and heredity in the Jewish community. (Apr.)

Even George Washington relied on others for ideas and words for his great state papers. But Schlesinger, who teaches political journalism at Boston University, starts this snappy history, the first on its subject, with FDR, who inaugurated the modern practice of employing others to craft important policy statements. Administration by administration, the author takes us through a lively, often unforgettable cast of characters who both enlarged their presidents' visions and suffered from White House infighting and policy battles. He emphasizes how changes in the media (radio, television and the Internet) altered the settings and presentation of presidents' words. He ends with the current administration, its ghostwriters the first to step from the shadows and claim the limelight. Schlesinger's coverage is wide, his research comprehensive, his pace fast, his prose light. But surely there's much more to say about the way pre-FDR presidents went about conceiving and writing their major speeches, about what we may have lost (while also gaining) from the intervention of outside wordsmiths. And one wishes the author had sprung free of his material and ended with his own thoughts about what he's written, for no one knows more about this subject than Schlesinger. 8 pages of b&w photos. (Apr. 15)

Posner is unique in the world of American jurisprudence, a highly regarded U.S. appellate judge and a prolific and controversial writer on legal philosophy (The Little Book of Plagiarism). Opinionated, sarcastic and argumentative as ever, Posner is happy to weigh in not only on how judges think, but how he thinks they should think. When sticking to explaining the nine intellectual approaches to judging that he identifies, and to the gap between legal academics and judges, and his well-formulated pragmatic approach to judging, Posner is insightful, accessible, often funny and a model of clarity. When he charges off into longstanding arguments with fellow legal theorists (liberal commentator Ronald Dworkin, for one) or examines doctrinal discrepancies in the opinions of Supreme Court justices, he writes for a far more limited audience. For the record, although Justice Scalia is a favorite target, none of the Supreme Court nine escapes Posner's lethally sharp pen. Posner's two major points—that to a great extent judges make decisions based not on theory but on who they are, their gender, education, class and experiences, and that “the Supreme Court is a political court” regardless of what theory of constitutional interpretation justices claim—are well worthwhile and deeply rooted in common sense and experience. (Apr.)

According to Morgan, the inspiration for the governess to the royal Siamese children in the 1950s musical The King and I, Anna Leonowens (1831–1915) was not the genteel British lady she purported to be, but a low-born, Anglo-Indian army brat who had severed ties with her family in India. A young widow living in Singapore, Leonowens was hired by King Mongkut to teach his wives and 82 children English. An absolute monarch committed to improving his people's lives and avoiding foreign control of his country, Mongkut had no romantic interest in Leonowens but shared her deep love of learning, occasionally consulted her on state issues and considered her arguments about the treatment of his enslaved harem. After Siam, the irrepressible Leonowens again reinvented herself as an eminent author and public lecturer in the U.S. and Canada, a social reformer and suffragist in Canada, a journalist in Russia and a Sanskrit scholar in Germany. Miami University English professor Morgan (Place Matters) uncovers and competently demonstrates the achievements of an extraordinary Victorian woman, but her biography is undermined by repetitious and charmless prose, underdeveloped analyses of Western/Thai political relationships and unfocused ramblings about the nature of biography. 15 b&w photos. (Apr.)

In this brief, insightful book, German sociologist Allert writes penetratingly about the gesture familiar around the world. Working like a preservationist on a minute canvas, he shows readers the cascade of meanings that rush through everyday greetings in general. But Allert's keen eye is trained on Germany, and he provides a wonderful depiction of regional, class and gender-specific greetings, from the kissed hand to the low, scraping bow. All of these were supplanted by the Hitler salute. Hitler was the suprahuman being in whom Germans invested their hopes, which they reaffirmed every time they raised their arms and shouted the Führer's name. As the salute penetrated every sphere of social life, it made Nazism omnipresent and Germans a unified community. It also affirmed authority for the ruler as well as over the ruled. Allert draws fruitfully on memoirs and letters. Readers encounter Germans who joyfully raised their arms to the Führer and also those who went to any length to avoid the gesture and sometimes paid dearly for their opposition to the Nazis. Allert's book shows how much can be gained from a close study of the daily rituals we barely think about yet are packed with meaning. (Apr. 1)

This dogged and creative exploration of the political uses of a 1930s family tragedy demonstrates the strides made in Soviet history since the field emerged from the grip of the Cold War. Pavel Morozov was found murdered in Siberia at age 13 with his younger brother. The case was turned into an opportunity by the Soviet authorities, who said Pavlik had denounced his father for being in league with the despised “kulaks”—allegedly rich peasants. Kelly, a professor of Russian at Oxford, is less interested in the facts of the case (although she explores them in her last chapter) than in tracing how the Soviet machine turned Pavel into a model for millions of Soviet children—and how the story changed over time along with the political winds. Kelly finds Pavel's primary meaning “was as a symbol of self-sacrifice and relentless commitment to the cause, rather than as a denouncer.” Kelly also relies on oral histories with elderly Russians to explore how they remembered reacting to the story as children. Readers interested in propaganda and in Russian history will learn much from Kelly's scrupulous research. Photos, maps. (Apr.)

Most people first encounter Theodor Adorno (1903–1969) as one of the leading lights of the Marxist philosophers known as the Frankfurt School and as the collaborator with Max Horkheimer on Dialectic of Enlightenment, which argued that the Enlightenment emphasis on reason gave rise to Nazi politics and genocide. Yet Adorno's writings ranged widely from aesthetics and music to ethics and literature. This elegant translation of Claussen's 2003 biography of his teacher provides the first glimpse of the depth of Adorno's life and thought. In masterful strokes, Claussen traces Adorno's life and work from his middle-class Jewish childhood in Frankfurt and Vienna and his university work on Kierkegaard to his friendships with Walter Benjamin and Thomas Mann, among others, and his later intellectual partnership with Horkheimer. Weaving in colorful excerpts of Adorno's writings, Claussen demonstrates the centrality of music and aesthetics to the philosopher and offers fresh insights into his life. Thanks to its depth and thoroughness, this lovingly crafted study will most certainly become the definitive portrait of Adorno, and it is also a captivating portrait of the incredibly shifting times, from Weimar to the Nazi regime, through which Adorno passed. 19 b&w photos. (Apr.)

Hirsch, a rabbi who has counseled many individuals over the years, puts their stories to good use as she proffers 10 steps to self-improvement and spiritual health. In addition to everyday stories from Hirsch's work life, as well as personal reflections (for example, to illustrate the idea of step seven, the “divine spark,” Hirsch tells the story of how she decided to become a rabbi), Hirsch draws on familiar figures from the Bible. She uses Jacob and Esau in step three to demonstrate how to forget past hurts and fears in order to become “present” in the here and now, and Jacob's ladder to illustrate step eight's instruction to be adventurous and take leaps of faith. Hirsch writes fluidly and makes readers feel as if she's speaking directly to them and never patronizes. Anyone who can advise readers to “[t]ake your chicken, put all your 'oopses' on it, swing it around a few times, and call it a day” in a way that makes complete sense is worth reading. (May)

Foster (Celebration of Discipline) has built a career exploring foundational spiritual practices like fasting, prayer, study and worship. Here he zeroes in on Bible study to help Christians grow in their faith. Although Bible study is nothing if not a well-trod topic, Foster breathes new life into it by drawing on ancient resources: he is especially interested in the age-old practice of lectio divina, sacred reading that requires the attention of both mind and heart. Foster cautions several times that lectio divina is neither a magical solution to problems nor an approach that “bypasses the living God by treating the Scriptures as a sort of Ouija board.” He warns that the Bible is also not an owner's manual for successful living or even moral living; we shouldn't read it merely to serve our own needs. Rather, lectio divina offers an invitation to enter the Bible as a story (or a complex group of stories) and enter its river of life. As usual, Foster's work is not for those readers who are seeking quick answers or a behavioral checklist of what the Bible says they should do. Rather, it is a deep reflective guide to spiritual rumination and growth. (Apr. 22)

Rabbi Korngold revels in nature, and she seeks to share that joy as founder of the Adventure Rabbi program to help people reconnect to Judaism via the great outdoors. She has also discovered a way—call it a language, a spirit, an essence—with which to express the simplicity of a back-to-basics spirituality. Balancing an in-depth knowledge of scripture with a wry sense of humor and a compassion for nature, Korngold reminds us of “the nooks and crannies of the natural world” and says that “we must seek them out, soak them in and care for them.” The variety of personal stories, tales of travel with various Adventure Rabbi groups and contemporary alternative biblical outcomes—what if Moses had been too busy texting to notice the burning bush?—make for a book that is easily digestible but at the same time worth savoring. Purposely sized to fit easily into a backpack or pocket, the call to return to the wild—or at least your local city park—is ever present. While certainly aimed at adventuresome readers, the book's message, filled with depictions of fire, water, earth and sky, simultaneously encourages individual exploration and communal responsibility. (Apr. 8)

The Sakya lineage, one of four main schools of Tibetan Buddhism, is little known among English-speaking Buddhists. This collection aims to fill that void, but with mixed results. Tseten is well-positioned to bring these teachings to an audience with some awareness of Tibetan Buddhism; he is a Buddhist chaplain at Harvard University and founded the Sakya Institute in Cambridge, Mass. The book offers writings by important figures of the school, some ancient and others contemporary. But it is tough sledding: one wishes Tseten had ordered the essays according to some principle and added brief introductions to the selections, particularly the older texts. Key Buddhist concepts frequently discussed include karma, emptiness and compassion. Only one essay deals extensively with the practice of meditation. An essay on Sakya history is especially helpful; the history of Buddhism from this school's view contains some interesting stories and variants. Pre-eminently a work of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy, this is not a quick read. It will make most sense to advanced and patient students of Tibetan Buddhism who are comfortable with Sanskrit, Tibetan names and terminology, and philosophical distinctions among schools on the ultimate nature of reality and methods to gain enlightenment. (Apr. 8)

In this meandering but charming book, Robinson, the controversial gay Episcopal bishop of New Hampshire, addresses sexuality and theology. He argues that the cause for which the planets “seem to be aligned” today is full civil rights of GLBT people. Many of the arguments he rehearses are familiar: the church today faces a struggle similar to the civil rights movement of the 1960s; the way we think about sexual orientation today was unknown in biblical times; and so forth. More original is Robinson's discussion of the vulnerability of sex, and his support for abstinence outside of committed relationships, because sex in other contexts is likely to hurt people. But this book goes beyond sex to Christian theology. Robinson reviews his beliefs in the Incarnation and in forgiveness. He insists that the God he knows is a God of radical inclusion, who wants to lift up all the oppressed, including women, minorities and the poor. That good news, Robinson admits, actually makes him somewhat uncomfortable, since he knows that he is among the world's most privileged people. Sometimes Robinson's prose is a bit florid, but his passion will draw in many mainline Protestant readers. (Apr. 7)

McCullough, whose last three books were academic, targets a general audience in this exploration of the human capacity for both revenge and forgiveness. Schooling readers in the basics of natural selection, McCullough argues that despite popular belief that revenge is a disease, both revenge and forgiveness have been adaptive for our species. Acting as a chatty tour guide through a labyrinth of game theory and studies of human and animal behavior, McCullough delineates the neurological, psychological, social, cultural and religious mechanisms behind these choices. McCullough approaches stories of extraordinary forgiveness with clear-eyed inquiry. What conditions, he asks, are most likely to lead to forgiveness rather than revenge? How can we create those conditions at a societal, even global level? While acknowledging that cycles of revenge seem unbreakable as they play out in a number of current conflicts, McCullough sees evidence of humanity's collective will to break these cycles. Such innovations as restorative justice and truth and reconciliation commissions seem capable of provoking humanity's hardwired impulse to forgive. Accessible but unsentimental, this book will appeal to all who wish to better understand forgiveness and how to engender it. (Apr. 4)

At a time when magazines and journals are documenting the upsurge of interest in liturgy and ritual, a book from the senior managing editor of Christianity Today would seem well-timed. Unfortunately Galli, trying to cover all the bases from Eastern Orthodox to Presbyterian in exploring how liturgy helps to cultivate God's people, speaks too broadly and generically for an audience that is just discovering and trying to fathom formal worship traditions. Galli thoughtfully addresses the way in which liturgy shapes us in general, by changing our focus, sense of time and culture. But the lack of specific examples (in an effort to be inclusive) leaves readers with theory that may be difficult to translate into Sunday morning worship. However, Galli's love of the liturgy is clear, and his own stories of the way it has engaged and changed him over time are informative. The book's three appendixes (a glossary of common liturgical terms, a comparison of the order of worship in various traditions and a description of the seasons of the Christian year) will be helpful to newcomers to church traditions. (Apr.)

This practical sex guide incorporates, but goes well beyond, marital sacramental theology, and as such will be welcomed by those who want to adhere to Catholic teaching yet still enjoy the passion of sexual union. Psychotherapist Popcak spends most of the book elaborating on the Catholic view of sex, citing various church documents and the writings of Pope John Paul II. He explains why sex is holy, how it differs from eroticism and why it is intended solely for one man and one woman who are married to each other and open to having children. In covering what he calls “the good stuff,” Popcak says restrictions are few. These center on the “One Rule” (a man must always climax inside the woman) and “Four Pleasure Principles” that deal with maintaining continuity between a couple's daily life together and their sexual relationship and respecting the dignity of each partner. As long as these guidelines are followed, Popcak says, couples are free to be creative sexually. He includes information on natural family planning (a Catholic Church–approved method of spacing births) and advice for sexual problems. Although Popcak writes in a warm, conversational style, he tends to overuse certain catch words and phrases, diminishing some of their impact. Nonetheless, his essential message makes this worthwhile reading. (Apr.)

Morris, a Roman Catholic priest and Fox News analyst, draws from his religious tradition as well as his experiences in the world of media to present understandable and genuine advice for those who suffer—in other words, everyone. The “promise” of the title is God's promise to bring something better out of suffering. For some, this may oversimplify the matter, but for others it will provide a glimmer of hope. One of the most useful chapters addresses the various images of God that people hold—all of which are incomplete, and some of which can be seen as spiritually harmful. The author describes these images accurately, ties them in with how people who maintain those images view suffering and uses real-life examples he has encountered in his ministry. The theodicy question (why does a loving God allow suffering?) will always present a quandary to believers of all stripes. Morris is successful in making the claim that it is possible to sustain one's faith in the midst of what is sometimes a cruel world. (Apr.)

A familiar presence at universities, Campus Crusade for Christ exemplifies for historian Turner the type of nondenominational “parachurch” organization that has contributed to the surge of evangelicals' political and social influence since the mid-1970s. Bill Bright founded Campus Crusade, focused chiefly on evangelism, at UCLA in 1951; in his 50 years as president he turned it into a worldwide organization. Turner, a professor of American history at the University of South Alabama, uses Bright's story to dig into the early postwar roots of evangelicalism, including its ties to conservatives, anticommunism, use of sales techniques, painful split from fundamentalism, ambivalence towardcharismatic Christians and unresolved tensions with mainstream American culture. Most interesting are the influence of Henrietta Mears, director of Christian education at the First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood, on Bright's generation of evangelicals, and Campus Crusade's counteractivism at Berkeley in the 1960s. By the end of the book, Bright remains an enigma, but Turner's chronological account is a thought-provoking glimpse into the trajectory of modern evangelicalism as it moved toward its current involvement in national politics, opposition to abortion and gay marriage, and explosive growth in developing countries. (Apr.)

What happens when the Christ of faith meets the Jesus of history? How can it be that “scholars can arrive at such startlingly different interpretations of the reported sayings [of Jesus], and thereby such very different profiles of Jesus himself”? This is the question that preoccupies Boulton in an amazingly good synthesis of historical Jesus scholarship. Boulton gives an overview of several factions of Jesus scholars, comparing their conclusions and explaining their theses. His scope is as wide-ranging as it is evenhanded; from theologians to scholars to popes, he distills their thoughts into a comprehensible and comprehensive survey of the best of the contemporary thinkers. Boulton is a British Quaker and has been involved in transdenominational religious activities for many years. Readers will find no overt proselytizing in this book. Instead, the author treats them to an unbiased look at the ever-changing discipline of Jesus studies. In the end, Boulton understands that it is not the scholar or the theologian who will define the kingdom on earth. Rather, it will be the job of all of us to discern the Jesus of today from words written long ago. This book is not to be missed. (Apr.)

What is the Jewish position on tattoos, eating disorders and body piercings? According to this book on Judaism and the body, that's actually the wrong question: it's not about claiming the Jewish position on any issue, but finding a Jewish ethic that successfully addresses Torah, tradition and beliefs. This multiauthor book, part of JPS's new series on contemporary ethical dilemmas (future volumes will address money, war, sexual relations, and power, among other issues), presents multiple points of view and personal voices. Tattoos, for example, are weighed against biblical and Talmudic injunctions, historical allusions (are Jewish tattoos offensive to Holocaust victims?) and cultural standards. Some of the best essays are by doctors, including one who ruminates on whether he has an ethical responsibility to prescribe medication that might save his patients from short-term depression. As a book, this collection can feel disjointed; it begins abruptly with three quick case studies and numerous quotes from ancient and contemporary rabbis on various body issues, then segues into contributors' uneven essays on those topics. Though no single answer emerges, the book's general sensibility is, to paraphrase one essayist, to remember that God created our bodies, and we are only renting them. (Apr.)

Chris Reynolds, the author's 17-year-old son, has been diagnosed with a host of problems including Tourette's syndrome, Asperger's syndrome, bipolar disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. The author, who teaches systematic theology at the University of Toronto, writes movingly of his deep love for his son: living with a child with disabilities has opened him “to a surplus of grace that can only be called divine.” This book, however, is neither memoir nor practical advice; it is a heavily footnoted scholarly treatise written in a largely academic style, arguing that disability is the norm; the image of God means not rationality but relationality; redemption is a result of God's own vulnerability; and the proper Christian response to otherness is hospitality. Reasoning from experience and from the Bible, Reynolds develops a theology of creation, sin, redemption and the church designed to produce a “metaphorical reversal” that challenges our culture's “cult of normalcy” by “privileging disability.” Despite an occasional tangle of postmodern jargon, Reynolds's insights are often compelling: “The basic question of human existence is whether there is welcome at the heart of things, whether we can find a home with others who recognize us, value us, and empower us to become ourselves.” (Apr.)

Recent studies of the Roman Catholic Church in America have brought into focus the emergence of Catholics into mainstream culture and the colorful particularities of the faith in various parish neighborhoods. O'Toole, a historian at Boston College, follows this trend of telling the story “from below,” but begins his narrative from the birth of the nation in the 1770s. For many, the biggest revelation in the book will be O'Toole's designation of the colonial church as “priestless.” While that was not entirely the case—a handful of priests did serve the small number of Catholics who had settled here—many did not see a priest more than once a year. As Catholics today are aware, the church currently faces a similar priest shortage. For readers who are familiar with the church, the primary joy of this book will be found in checking their own experiences against those described by O'Toole. Still, the genial style of writing together with a plentiful amount of fascinating tidbits will keep all but the most jaded expert going. (Apr.)

Reading tarot symbols is complicated—each appears many times and in a variety of contexts in a deck, with many possible layers of meaning. (For example, a rose can symbolize “the feminine path of emergence” when appearing with the Magician, and as a “style of learning” that bestows “unconditional love” when appearing with the Hierophant.) Using Ride-Waite-Smith imagery, the Amberstones (Tarot Tips) provide both a reference manual and a course on reading tarot symbols, even introducing discussions as if speaking directly to students. Becoming a skilled tarot reader requires an odd combination of natural talent and skill—familiarity with symbols through study is important, yet at the same time, “tarot imagery was originally created to evoke an immediate, intuitively surefooted emotional response from [whoever] looked at it, whether they knew anything about tarot or not,” say the Amberstones. To get in touch with both aspects, they provide exercises to help “enter your inner universe and find whatever you are looking for” when contemplating various symbols. Though the guide is organized thematically rather than alphabetically as most symbol dictionaries are arranged, it still works well as a reference manual. (Apr.)