By my count, I read 60 books cover-to-cover in 2012, started but couldn't manage to finish four others, and began reading one book (The Guns of August), which I anticipate finishing in early 2013. In keeping with the same formula from 2011, I've chosen to highlight the top 15% of what I've read this year. I've also included three "honorable mentions" that are nearly as deserving. My best of list, like my reading list, is dominated by non-fiction, but I have included two fiction titles that stood out from the crowd.
Appearing in the order in which I read them originally, the best of my 2012 reading list follows:
Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine, and the Murder of a President
(reviewed February 9, 2012)
I knew virtually nothing about James A. Garfield before I read this book, but came away with a deep admiration for him, as well as deepened cynicism about the current state of politics in this country.
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
(reviewed March 13, 2012)
A lovely and fun historical fiction read set in the immediate aftermath of World War II in the Channel Islands. Yes, I hope to visit them someday.
Flyboys
(reviewed April 29, 2012)
James Bradley is the only author to appear twice on my list this year; clearly he has the touch. I had no way of knowing when I read this book last April that it would tell the story of Japanese-American relations up to and during World War II so perfectly that I would feel compelled to actually assign and teach the book to my Japanese culture class this coming spring.
The Food of a Younger Land
(reviewed May 10, 2012)
It is neigh on impossible for me to imagine an American in which ravioli is an ethnic specialty, eaten only in the homes of bonafide Italians. This book transports the reader to that place and enables one to see what we have gained in the past 80 years - and what we have lost.
The Worst Hard Time
(reviewed July 6, 2012)
Timothy Egan takes an unflinching look at the Dust Bowl and the series of calamities faced by those at its geographic center,as well as the government's role in creating the conditions that led to a decade of impossible-to-imagine drought and disaster. It seems justified to believe the end is coming when it rains mud from the sky.
An African in Greenland
(reviewed August 25, 2012)
From the lush, snake infested coast of West Africa to the snow- and ice-covered villages of Greenland, Tete-Michel Kpomassie's journey is as improbable as it is fascinating. Part memoir, part travelogue, and entirely anthropological, this book was engrossing from beginning to end. And of course now I want to visit the Arctic.
The Imperial Cruise: A Secret History of Empire and War
(reviewed October 3, 2012)
Such a secret history, in fact, that it's seldom (if ever?) taught in school. James Bradley's account of the imperialistic policies of the first Roosevelt administration is as eye-opening as it is damning and proves, rather conclusively, that the more things change, the more they stay the same. From trumped up charges to garner support for the Spanish-American War (when Roosevelt was Assistant Secretary of the Navy and an aggressive war hawk) to waterboarding in the Philippines, the book covers some of the darker episodes in American history.
Suite Française
(reviewed October 8, 2012)
Written with a poignant urgency that vibrates through the pages, Suite Française is a book about war when the days are early and the outcome is uncertain. How long would this war go on? Sadly, Irène Némirovsky would never find out; she died at Auschwitz in 1942.
April, 1865: The Month That Saved America
(reviewed November 18, 2012)
When I finished this book, I thought, "My God, but that I should be able to write so masterfully myself." More than the story of a single month, it is the story of the choices that defined that month, as well as those that came before it and those that came after it - essentially, a synopsis of the American Civil War and a biography of all the major actors in it.
Honorable Mentions:
Devil in the White City
(reviewed January 13, 2012)
Erik Larson seems to have an especial genius for finding and depicting evil in this world (and in this book, at the Chicago World Fair). I look forward to reading whatever he writes next.
The Beauty and the Sorrow
(reviewed March 14, 2012)
Calling
all Downton Abbey fans. The war as even Julian Fellowes would not dare
to present it: raw, wrenching, and completely uncut. Clearly far more
sorrow than beauty in this book, but a rich and fantastic read.
America, 1908
(reviewed March 15, 2012)
Evidently March was a very good month for reading. In any case: perhaps I am a bit biased because my own great-grandfather entered the world in early February of 1909, but I found it fascinating to see how this country was a century ago. I was especially enthralled by the New York to Paris automobile race...across thousands of miles of virtually non-existent roads.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Vacation Reading
I've just returned from a lovely vacation which afforded me loads of time to luxuriate in good books (and also sunshine, lots and lots of sunshine). Rather than write a separate review for each of the four books I read, I figured I'd write give a quickie review of each of them here. If you want more details on any of them, just ask.
All Our Worldly Goods - Irène Némirovsky
I actually read two Némirovsky books on vacation, but preferred this one, which is similar in tone and style to Suite Française. The book is set in France between 1910 and 1940 and follows the love and life of a single couple, Pierre and Agnes, across the decades. As the book cover notes, they marry against the wishes of their family, provoking a multi-generational feud with ramifications cascading through time. (And if this weren't enough of a cross to bear, the time period covers two world wars and the depression.) Némirovsky's characters are endearing and believable and what I admire about her writing is how concisely she tells her stories. After all, she covers 30 years in only 264 pages. At times, the lack of detail can be frustrating (wait, did seven years of communal life just pass in a single sentence?), but the whole is better than the sum of the parts and I found myself caring what happened to the protagonists through the very end. That said, this book lacks the poignant urgency of Suite Française, which I ultimately preferred to either of the books I read this past week.
A Moveable Feast - Ernest Hemingway
I have been wanting to read this book ever since I finished A Paris Wife last year, and really the two go hand-in-hand. A Paris Wife takes a more intimate look at the day-to-day life of the Hemingways in Paris, and especially their relationship with one another, but A Moveable Feast paints a beautiful picture of a time and place that exists today only in literature and the imagination. Hemingway opens the book with a preface that some names, places, and faces may have been omitted or changed, but really the expatriate world of 1920s Paris is the star: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Sylvia Beach, and entirely too much time imbibing wine in smoky cafes while filling reams of paper with the books that were to become a staple of many a high school's American literature courses. Turning the pages of this book, the reader can not only picture but can truly feel Paris as it was.
America, But Better - Chris Cannon
According to Amazon.com, this book is based on a "hilarious viral campaign" in which a new candidate - Canada - announces its "Canadacy" for president in 2012. I must have heard of this book during that campaign, because I added it to my list sometime last fall. It is certainly a witty and satirical look at, essentially, all the ways in which Canada is alike, and yet superior to, the United States. The book is cleverly done (although honestly the over-reliance on hockey references came to seem lazy). The first half, especially the maps and timeline of U.S. Canadian History, was probably a bit better than the second half, but at only 100 pages or so, it's worth the read for anyone looking for a bit of cynical amusement.
The Wine of Solitude - Irène Némirovsky
This is the second of the Némirovsky books I read on vacation, and although I ultimately preferred All Our Worldly Goods, I enjoyed the change of setting with this one. Unlike her other novels that I've read, The Wine of Solitude is not set (entirely) within France. The book begins in a small Ukrainian town (a fictionalized Kiev, according to the description on the book jacket), then winding through St. Petersburg, rural Finland, Helsinki, Nice, and finally Paris, it is the story of an unhappy White Russian family whose fortunes rise and fall like the world around them. Like Goods, this book covers a vast expanse of time (roughly 15 years) and weaves in the geopolitical situation with which Némirovsky herself was only too familiar. At their core, Némirovsky's works seem to revolve around a few central relationships, and Wine is no different. It is an intricately spun coming-of-age story of a mother and her daughter, a daughter and her father, the daughter and the governess, and how love, anger, jealousy, and hatred make and undermine a family. World war, revolution, and depression are the backdrop against which decisions are made, but Némirovsky gives us protagonists whose characters seemed forged (of iron) almost independently of the events around them.
All Our Worldly Goods - Irène Némirovsky
I actually read two Némirovsky books on vacation, but preferred this one, which is similar in tone and style to Suite Française. The book is set in France between 1910 and 1940 and follows the love and life of a single couple, Pierre and Agnes, across the decades. As the book cover notes, they marry against the wishes of their family, provoking a multi-generational feud with ramifications cascading through time. (And if this weren't enough of a cross to bear, the time period covers two world wars and the depression.) Némirovsky's characters are endearing and believable and what I admire about her writing is how concisely she tells her stories. After all, she covers 30 years in only 264 pages. At times, the lack of detail can be frustrating (wait, did seven years of communal life just pass in a single sentence?), but the whole is better than the sum of the parts and I found myself caring what happened to the protagonists through the very end. That said, this book lacks the poignant urgency of Suite Française, which I ultimately preferred to either of the books I read this past week.
A Moveable Feast - Ernest Hemingway
I have been wanting to read this book ever since I finished A Paris Wife last year, and really the two go hand-in-hand. A Paris Wife takes a more intimate look at the day-to-day life of the Hemingways in Paris, and especially their relationship with one another, but A Moveable Feast paints a beautiful picture of a time and place that exists today only in literature and the imagination. Hemingway opens the book with a preface that some names, places, and faces may have been omitted or changed, but really the expatriate world of 1920s Paris is the star: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Sylvia Beach, and entirely too much time imbibing wine in smoky cafes while filling reams of paper with the books that were to become a staple of many a high school's American literature courses. Turning the pages of this book, the reader can not only picture but can truly feel Paris as it was.
America, But Better - Chris Cannon
According to Amazon.com, this book is based on a "hilarious viral campaign" in which a new candidate - Canada - announces its "Canadacy" for president in 2012. I must have heard of this book during that campaign, because I added it to my list sometime last fall. It is certainly a witty and satirical look at, essentially, all the ways in which Canada is alike, and yet superior to, the United States. The book is cleverly done (although honestly the over-reliance on hockey references came to seem lazy). The first half, especially the maps and timeline of U.S. Canadian History, was probably a bit better than the second half, but at only 100 pages or so, it's worth the read for anyone looking for a bit of cynical amusement.
The Wine of Solitude - Irène Némirovsky
This is the second of the Némirovsky books I read on vacation, and although I ultimately preferred All Our Worldly Goods, I enjoyed the change of setting with this one. Unlike her other novels that I've read, The Wine of Solitude is not set (entirely) within France. The book begins in a small Ukrainian town (a fictionalized Kiev, according to the description on the book jacket), then winding through St. Petersburg, rural Finland, Helsinki, Nice, and finally Paris, it is the story of an unhappy White Russian family whose fortunes rise and fall like the world around them. Like Goods, this book covers a vast expanse of time (roughly 15 years) and weaves in the geopolitical situation with which Némirovsky herself was only too familiar. At their core, Némirovsky's works seem to revolve around a few central relationships, and Wine is no different. It is an intricately spun coming-of-age story of a mother and her daughter, a daughter and her father, the daughter and the governess, and how love, anger, jealousy, and hatred make and undermine a family. World war, revolution, and depression are the backdrop against which decisions are made, but Némirovsky gives us protagonists whose characters seemed forged (of iron) almost independently of the events around them.
Friday, December 21, 2012
How to Do It: Guides to Good Living for Renaissance Italians
How to Do It: Guides to Good Living for Renaissance Italians was a recent University of Chicago free e-book. Written by Rutgers professor Rudolph M. Bell, it is an academic analysis of how-to guides from the seventeenth century. Then as now, these helpful little manuals covered everything from childhood development to pregnancy concerns to proper deportment of the sexes. The book is interesting, largely as a window into a long-disappeared world (readers were informed by many the sage, for example, that a woman's uterus contained seven distinct compartments: three each reserved for male and female fetuses and the seventh, which was the domain of hermaphrodite babies). That said it is also quite long, and occasionally rather dry. It clocks it at roughly 300 pages; after 200, I determined I'd learned enough about the what and how of living as a Renaissance Italian.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Blood of Free Men: The Liberation of Paris, 1944
The Blood of Free Men was one of the recommended reads from the last issue of the University of Michigan alumni magazine. I've never gone wrong with one of their suggestions before, the library had a copy, and the book is a succinct 250 pages, so I figured, why not? This is a book whose title tells you pretty much everything you need to know about what lies beneath the cover: it is an extremely detailed and informative, if sometimes dry, retelling of the days immediate before and after the liberation of the City of Lights. Michael Neiberg does an excellent job reconstructing the movements and motivations of those at the heart of the resistance uprising and ultimate Allied liberation.
This book was especially interesting to me because, despite the many French history classes I've taken over the years - and several hours spent at the Invalides military museum in Paris this past spring - I don't believe I had ever heard the story as Neiberg presents it, replete with iconic Parisian barricades (think Victor Hugo and Les Mis) and street fighting. Even at the Invalides museum, the majority of exhibits were devoted to that most memorable moment when Charles de Gaulle strode triumphantly down the Champs Elysees.
Neiberg also does a great job of presenting the primary actors, de Gaulle and Leclerc not least among them, from multi-faceted perspectives. De Gaulle is alternately maddening and inspiring, which I imagine is pretty true to life. Similarly, Neiberg fleshes out the American position so that the reader can really comprehend why they were not keen to liberate Paris initially. Ultimately, one or two questions do remain unresolved, such as the true motivations of the German commander, Choltitz, who was ordered to destroy Paris, but did not.
All of that said, The Blood of Free Men is probably best recommended for absolute history buffs, either of World War II or French (especially 3rd/4th republic) society and politics. Those looking for less academic reading on occupied Paris might prefer Death in the City of Light or Suite Française.
This book was especially interesting to me because, despite the many French history classes I've taken over the years - and several hours spent at the Invalides military museum in Paris this past spring - I don't believe I had ever heard the story as Neiberg presents it, replete with iconic Parisian barricades (think Victor Hugo and Les Mis) and street fighting. Even at the Invalides museum, the majority of exhibits were devoted to that most memorable moment when Charles de Gaulle strode triumphantly down the Champs Elysees.
Neiberg also does a great job of presenting the primary actors, de Gaulle and Leclerc not least among them, from multi-faceted perspectives. De Gaulle is alternately maddening and inspiring, which I imagine is pretty true to life. Similarly, Neiberg fleshes out the American position so that the reader can really comprehend why they were not keen to liberate Paris initially. Ultimately, one or two questions do remain unresolved, such as the true motivations of the German commander, Choltitz, who was ordered to destroy Paris, but did not.
All of that said, The Blood of Free Men is probably best recommended for absolute history buffs, either of World War II or French (especially 3rd/4th republic) society and politics. Those looking for less academic reading on occupied Paris might prefer Death in the City of Light or Suite Française.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
The Midwife
The Midwife (which I also saw in a bookstore this past weekend with the title Call the Midwife), is the basis for my latest British television obsession, Call the Midwife. It's a seriously good show, and I was impressed how closely a great number of the plot lines hewed to the original book by Jennifer Worth, nee Lee. Although I admit to skimming some of the most, uh, detailed chapters on the art and science of midwifery (and nursing, generally), I found this book absolutely fascinating. Worth does a bang-up job of capturing life in London's East End, not only during the 1950s, when she lived there as a nurse and midwife, but - through her own research and the stories she learns from patients - of life there through the end of the 19th century and entire first half of the 20th.
It is this history that really sets the book apart from the television show. The show cannot capture the scope of the War World II destruction that still litters the landscape: entire city blocks that have been fenced off, the jagged remains of war - and the stench of a decade of filth therein deposited - filling the senses of all who live there. She takes a hard look at workhouses (the description of the workhouse howl is one of the most haunting passages I have read in a very long time), prostitution (often involuntary), and absolute, grinding poverty. As in the television show, most of the individuals who give this book life have dignity and humor that belies their circumstances.
Throughout the book, Worth captures not only the spirit of her patients, but their speech: the Cockney accents seem to leap off the pages and into the reader's ears with ease. Her appendix on the dialect is fascinating, and well worth reading.
The book, like the show, is absolutely fantastic, and I can recommend both without reservations. Four stars.
It is this history that really sets the book apart from the television show. The show cannot capture the scope of the War World II destruction that still litters the landscape: entire city blocks that have been fenced off, the jagged remains of war - and the stench of a decade of filth therein deposited - filling the senses of all who live there. She takes a hard look at workhouses (the description of the workhouse howl is one of the most haunting passages I have read in a very long time), prostitution (often involuntary), and absolute, grinding poverty. As in the television show, most of the individuals who give this book life have dignity and humor that belies their circumstances.
Throughout the book, Worth captures not only the spirit of her patients, but their speech: the Cockney accents seem to leap off the pages and into the reader's ears with ease. Her appendix on the dialect is fascinating, and well worth reading.
The book, like the show, is absolutely fantastic, and I can recommend both without reservations. Four stars.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
The Spoiler
The Spoiler is the last of my readings from the NPR summer reading list. Generally, it goes like this: London's tabloids are in a cut-throat competition to scoop one another in the late 1990s, just as the age of the internet is dawning. The book's protagonist, Tamara Sims, is caught in the rush when she is commissioned to write a piece on the life and times of Honor Tait, one of the country's great war correspondents.
Several times I was tempted to give up on The Spoiler altogether, but then I'd turn it over and read the reviews: "A cracking plot, alive with twists and turns and meaning" - The [London] Times and "Extremely funny and sharply observed" - the Guardian and "...a darkly, deliciously witty read" - The Independent. The reviews (and NPR) couldn't all be wrong. Could they? Unfortunately, for me, the answer was yes.
More than once I found myself wondering what I was missing. Was this a farce, in the style of Confederacy of Dunces? (Now there's a book I never should have read.) Every so often I would decide that it was, and then The Spoiler became almost funny, but then I'd change my mind and decide that this book really was intended to be taken seriously. To farce or not to farce? I still don't know. Equally frustrating was that Annalena McAfee alternates between clearheaded, fabulous writing and truly tying her sentences in knots. Several times I skipped entire paragraphs or skimmed multiple pages simply because I couldn't take anymore of the meandering, let's-play-thesaurus prose. (I should add that never once did I need to go back to see what I'd missed - evidently, you can skim heavily and still get the gist.) Also, there are many, many characters who seemed to exist entirely for McAfee's amusement (or word count). That is, they didn't appear to have any real relevance to the story (such as the Monday night salon gang), and their stories neither started, stopped, or intertwined in any meaningful way. Other characters seemed to have stories with real direction, but then they just disappeared in the last pages, leaving me wondering what the point was. Similarly, both Tamara and Honor Tait seemed to have back stories that were never fully revealed and didn't serve a great deal of (any?) purpose. Even more, I found the most interesting plot line - the coming Internet age - to be the least explored and, therefore, the most disappointing. Finally, I really did not like either Tamara or Honor, but given my litany of other complaints, it seems that hardly matters.
You've probably gathered, but I was tremendously disappointed in this book. There was a lot of promise here, and McAfee clearly has the chops for it, but the book was dragged down by unsympathetic characters and plodding prose. One star.
Several times I was tempted to give up on The Spoiler altogether, but then I'd turn it over and read the reviews: "A cracking plot, alive with twists and turns and meaning" - The [London] Times and "Extremely funny and sharply observed" - the Guardian and "...a darkly, deliciously witty read" - The Independent. The reviews (and NPR) couldn't all be wrong. Could they? Unfortunately, for me, the answer was yes.
More than once I found myself wondering what I was missing. Was this a farce, in the style of Confederacy of Dunces? (Now there's a book I never should have read.) Every so often I would decide that it was, and then The Spoiler became almost funny, but then I'd change my mind and decide that this book really was intended to be taken seriously. To farce or not to farce? I still don't know. Equally frustrating was that Annalena McAfee alternates between clearheaded, fabulous writing and truly tying her sentences in knots. Several times I skipped entire paragraphs or skimmed multiple pages simply because I couldn't take anymore of the meandering, let's-play-thesaurus prose. (I should add that never once did I need to go back to see what I'd missed - evidently, you can skim heavily and still get the gist.) Also, there are many, many characters who seemed to exist entirely for McAfee's amusement (or word count). That is, they didn't appear to have any real relevance to the story (such as the Monday night salon gang), and their stories neither started, stopped, or intertwined in any meaningful way. Other characters seemed to have stories with real direction, but then they just disappeared in the last pages, leaving me wondering what the point was. Similarly, both Tamara and Honor Tait seemed to have back stories that were never fully revealed and didn't serve a great deal of (any?) purpose. Even more, I found the most interesting plot line - the coming Internet age - to be the least explored and, therefore, the most disappointing. Finally, I really did not like either Tamara or Honor, but given my litany of other complaints, it seems that hardly matters.
You've probably gathered, but I was tremendously disappointed in this book. There was a lot of promise here, and McAfee clearly has the chops for it, but the book was dragged down by unsympathetic characters and plodding prose. One star.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)