The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History

The Politically Incorrect Guide to American History
© 2004 Thomas E. Woods
290 pages

I don’t remember when I first began to break from believing the Standard View of American history, the view promoted in the textbooks paid for by the State and supporting its ambitions perfectly. Perhaps it was stumbling upon Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of American Empire. Although I’m now just as dubious about Zinn’s narrative of American history as those printed in DC-approved textbooks,   it was useful in breaking ground for me, allowing me to consider views that didn’t have the imperial imprimatur. Woods doesn’t create a libertarian version of A People’s History here; instead, he focuses on controversial aspects  in American history,   even if other decades are equally target-rich. (Ah, the things that could be said about Nixon’s many economic sins and the oil crisis of the seventies…)    Despite being a dissident in good standing for nearly fifteen years,  and being a regular listener of Woods’ podcast for the last eight or so*,   he still managed to deliver surprises. This is also one of the least abrasive and belligerent Politically Incorrect guides I’ve read, which made it more enjoyable to read, and more likely that I’d pass it on.  There appears to be a huge amount of overlap between this and Woods’ 33 Questions about American History You’re Not Supposed to Ask, though, so if you’ve read one the other is probably redundant. 

The book is strongest in the beginning,  because there’s a smooth progression and the chapters are united by a common theme. Woods opens with the colonial period, stressing  the distinct characters of the colonial groups (puritans, patricians, and plebes, essentially)  and uses this to point out the colonies’ fierce jealousy of one another and their independent natures.  This leads naturally into the war for independence, and the struggles following to create a workable constitution that respected both the desires of the States for  self-rule, and the need for a larger union to serve the States’ common interests more effectively.  Even after the Constitution was adopted, Woods points out,   sectional competition still existed, particularly on economic lines. Tariffs that supported the North burdened the South, for instance, and the  economic masters of the northeast and south continually competed against one another for political power. This, more than moral ardour or commitment to the American ideal of liberty,    motivated the North’s attempt to restrict the expansion of slavery, and economic factors also influenced the North’s refusal to let the Southern states go:  if the North insisted on noxious tariffs, the South could turn to Europe as its primary trading partner. David Williams, no libertarian,  argued much the same in his People’s History of the Civil War.     The grappling between each set of economic masters mattered little to the common soldier, of course   most southerners owned no slaves and resisted the bluebellies for the same reason their forefathers fought the redcoats – independence and defense against invasion. 


From here, the history is more episodic:  Woods examines the push west, for instance, pointing out the inefficiency and corruption that followed when DC began giving railroad companies land grants, and defends Rockefeller and Carnegie against smears that they were robber-barons.  The early 20th century  offers plenty of grounds for commentary:   Wilson’s hypocrisy and malice during the Great War are dealt with extensively: his  lying to Americans to push his country into combat, and  treating the blockade of Britain as a moral outrage while ignoring Britain’s harsher blockade of Germany, not to mention insisting that American ships should be able to sally through an active war zone without any risk whatsoever, when the Brits were known to fly false flags and use civilian ships like the Lusitania to move munitions.  (Howard Zinn, again no libertarian, also points this out in his People’s History of American Empire.)  Woods then debunks Hoover’s reputation as someone who “did nothing”: in fact, Hoover began the government intervention in the crisis of 1929 – 1930,  expanded and made more malignant by Roosevelt, that made what should have been an ordinary economic hiccough into a prolonged Depression. (It’s not an accident that the first economic disruption after the Federal Reserve was created was also the worst: nothing good happens when self-appointed wannabe technocrats start trying to manage something as organic and complex as an economy.)  Roosevelt, as you might  imagine, gets a solid thrashing beginning with the New Deal and continuing with his dragging the United States into World War 2 and bullying the opposition by pulling radio licenses and siccing the FBI goon squads on dissenters.  (The FBI,  minions of empire since their inception!)   The post-WW2 period is more scattered:  Woods  examines  the legacy of the  Civil Rights period, including the patent racism that affirmative action embodies,  attacks Reagan’s reputation as a small-government kind of guy, and points to  the disastrous foreign policy escapades of the 1990s, which would inflame anti-American sentiment in the mideast and end in horror in 2001.

All told, this was an entertaining and interesting romp through American history. Aside from the early colonial period, I was familiar with most of the content already. Woods skipped over some potentially interesting bits in American history, like the rise of the labor movement and the aforementioned mistakes of the 1970s, but he was no doubt restricted for space: the Politically Incorrect guides I’ve seen are fairly uniform regarding the size and formatting of the books. I’m most interested in his argument that relations between the early colonists and the native populations were more diverse and peaceful than understood — particularly the claims that some tribes invited European settlement to create buffers and allies between themselves and other tribes, and that the popular story that natives had no conception of selling land is an absolute lie. That merits further digging. In addition to this book being far more professional in tone than many in the PIG series, it has the added attraction of featuring criticism against both ‘liberals’ and ‘conservatives’, given Woods’ libertarian sympathies.

* The Tom Woods Show, which is a half-hour daily with subjects spanning history, economics, literature, and progressive rock.  The show introduced me to the work of Scott Horton and Brad Birzer, among others. I’ve been listening to it since 2013 or so.

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Persuasion

Persuasion
© 1817 Jane Austen
249 pages

Persuasion is the story of a young couple broken apart by the young woman (Anne’s) family convincing her that her beau doesn’t have enough money or social standing to be a good match for her. After Anne’s foolish father squanders the family’s resources on trying to meet society’s expectations, they’re forced to rent out the family home to an admiral and his family. Said family includes…..the jilted beau, Captain Wentworth, who re-enters Anne’s social scene. After first studiously avoiding the other, the erstwhile lovers are forced to talk after the Captain’s new belle injures herself acting foolishly, and the old flame (never lost) flares up yet again. This time, though, said captain has money and social standing, so everyone is A-OK with the union and they all live happily ever after. Of the five Austen novels I’ve read, this is both the snobbiest and the most dangerous to live in, since there’s enough widows and widowers to make a drinking game out of. I think I’d find the novel more interesting if the ending hadn’t effectively legitimated Anne’s family’s snobbery: what if they were reunited and the Captain’s fortunes hadn’t improved, had indeed worsened, but Anne decided her affection and love for his character meant more than his meager funds and humble social status? That said, Austen does mock the snobbery, most obviously through her father — a man who has to quit his family home because he can’t bear to rein in his spending for fear of losing status, who distracts himself from his financial woes by poring over the equivalent of the Social Register. I enjoyed it well enough, but the ending was obvious from reading the back of the book: unlike Northanger Abbey, there was never any ambiguity.

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Marine Combat Correspondent

Marine Combat Correspondent: World War 2 in the Pacific
© 1999 Sam Stavisky
344 pages

Sam Stavisky was a reporter for the Washington Post on December 7th, 1941, when he and the world bore witness to Japan’s bloody ambition to rule the Pacific. On December 8th, he attempted to join the Army to do his part against the German and Japanese empires.  Both the Army and Navy looked at Sam’s thick glasses and short stature and shook their heads, and the earnest reporter though he’d have to sit the war out – but then heard that the Marines were actively looking for journalists to send in the field. They would be real Marines,  but with a special sub-mission:   creating human-interest stories about the boys in the field to send to their folks at home, and recording for the public the stories of their sacrifice and gallantry.   Sam was soon on his way to the Pacific,  sometimes in combat and sometimes following rumors and whispers to find the real story. 

The Combat Correspondent program was completely new, with only six members at its creation:  most unit commanders had no idea what to do with their CCs, and employed them in underwhelming positions like clerks.  Sam was lucky enough to be assigned to someone more receptive, who essentially made him a roving reporter in the Pacific.  Although occasionally reeled in and assigned somewhere,  for the most part he was able to move from site to site on his own volition,  hitching rides on LSTs and following stories as he heard about them. Stories about Navy screwups or battles gone wrong wouldn’t make the censors, but Stavisky presents them here decades after the fact. Most of the stories included are about valor and resourcefulness, all censor-friendly. (Oddly, censors refused to forward one of Stavisky’s stories about an airman who surpassed Eddie Rickenbacker’s record for downed enemy fighters.)  Although often under fire (the Pacific in 1942 / 1943 didn’t have any ‘safe spaces’),   most of the combat recorded here is other people’s:  Stavisky isn’t involved in any first-wave invasions, but he does have to defend himself more than a few times and even serves as the tail gunner  in an airstrike on a Japanese supply depot. When I first encountered this book as a kid, I’d only ever read general, top-down accounts of World War 2 that were very sanitized.  Stavisky introduced me to the war as soldiers experienced it –  of desperate hours lying in mud under fire, singing bawdy songs and pinching supplies from Army depots,  of moving from camp to camp  and watching the skies above, wondering when Vals and Bettys might descend.  Re-reading it for the first time in at least sixteen years made me realize how many visceral details I’ve retained from this: the little rhymes Marines created to go long with the bugle calls (“Who’s going ashore? Who’s going ashore? Who’s got the price for a two-bit whore?”), the image of steaks served with soft-fried eggs, and of course the constant spectre of Sam’s D.I. floating in his head, admonishing him to “Cover yer ass!” whenever he’s tempted to get some shut-eye without first digging out his foxhole, or prudence is otherwise demanded.

This is a book wrapped up in nostalgia for me: were I reading it for the first time, I think I might be disappointed that Stavisky is always on the margins of major combat exercises, never directly involved the way Gene Sledge was. Still, I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to experience the Pacific front first hand, and get a taste for the many varied acts of perseverance and courage that made victory possible.

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August 2022 in Review

It’s…er, been a while since I did a monthly update.

Science Survey

Doing well! The science survey for 22 is completed,  with sixteen titles fulfilling my twelve categories. I’d like to finish the year with at least 20 science titles, so we’re not done quite yet. Interestingly, this is the first year I haven’t tweaked the categories, though I am thinking about it seriously.  I want to include Oceanography in the future, but I haven’t decided if it will coexist with Geology, or  kick Thinking Scientifically out to join the second-string “Wildcard” squad. 

Added this month:
The Hacking of the American Mind, Robert Lustig (Psychology/Neurology/Cognition)
Unsettled: What Climate Science Tells Us, What It Doesn’t, and Why it Matters, Steve Koonin (Climate/Weather). Review in the works. I’m trying to look at Koonin’s sources to figure out how on the level he is.
Ocean Anatomy. Julia Rothman (Geology & Oceanography). This is a mostly-graphic introduction to the world’s oceans and their inhabitants. Presumably intended for younger readers, it nontheless had fair bit of information that was new to me, and the illustrations were charming.
Is This Wi-Fi Organic? A Guide to Spotting Misleading Science Online, Dave Farina (Thinking Scientifically)

Reading Dixie

Yeaaaah, this is…not a thing this year.  I still intend to read the rest of my library’s Rick Bragg holdings, but Pat Conroy will wait until 2023, I think.

Classics Club

I’ve read two books in eight months, which is somewhat less than ideal, shall we say? In the spring I read Gone with the Wind (timed it with tornado season because I love tempting fate), and more recently I finished The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.   To the few who don’t know its story, it’s about a fellow named Arthur Dent who is rescued from the destruction of Earth to make room for a space-highway by virtue of his buddy Ford Prefect, who as it turns out is an alien with a gift for hitchhiking. Absurd adventures ensue. I enjoyed it enormously at the beginning, but the longer it goes on the more my brain transforms into this chap:

I like silly — readers know how much I love P.G. Wodehouse and Lemony Snicket — but the end drifts into inanity for me.

Climbing Mount Doom:

Since March, I’ve read 13 of my TBR titles. A lot of them were ebooks, though, so the Pile of Doom that lives on my headboard bookcase has not diminished dramatically.  

New Acquisitions
I bought two science books that will be very appropriate for October,  shall we say, so – no spoilers.  I also purchased two books I read in high school: Disaster! by Dan Kurzman is a history of the San Francisco earthquake and fire; it was my introduction to the subject and one I remember fondly, so I want to revisit it. I may use it for a trilogy of books on early-20th century San Francisco, including another re-read favorite (Good Life in Hard Times) and Herbert Ashbury’s history of the SF underworld, The Barbary Coast.  The second buy was Sam Stavinsky’s Marine Combat Correspondent,   a memoir of a Post reporter turned Marine.  I’d never read a war memoir before finding this in Walmart back in 1999 or so,  and it led me to other memoirs like William Manchester’s Goodbye, Darkness. (That, in turn, led me to his The Glory and the Dream, a 1400-page history of the United States from 1932 – 1972. I read this as a ninth or tenth grader. Needless to say I was a strange child.)   Marine was one of the key books (along with Albert Marrin’s The Airman’s War) that formed my early knowledge of WW2. I’m nearly done with my re-read of it, so look for it soon.

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Is This Wi-Fi Organic?

Is This Wi-Fi Organic? A Guide to Spotting Misleading Science Online
© 2021 Dave Farina
254 pages

In The Demon-Haunted World, Carl Sagan warned readers: “We live in a society exquisitely dependent on science and technology in which hardly anyone knows anything about science and technology.” Dave Farina has made it his life’s mission to remedy such wholesale ignorance, hosting a youtube channel in which he addresses popular misconceptions about the natural world. He adds to his work with Is This Wi-Fi Organic, in which primers on physics, biochemistry, and energy precede and inform take-downs of various spurious claims. Farina focuses on those with a direct bearing on human health (diet and medicine), though after the two-thirds mark he moves to the area of the obnoxious-but-not-dangerous category, the likes of astrology and such. Farina takes serious issue with the “nature good, artificial bad” conceit so ubiquitous in our culture, frequently reminding readers that nature can be capricious and destructive as easily as it can be beneficial. The author’s experience as an online educator is definitely on display here, with clear explanations and helpful illustrations; there’s also a good dash of humor, sometimes snark, when he’s addressing particularly ludicrous claims. The book is most helpful in constantly keeping readers tied to the foundation: we begin with chemistry and physics, and even as Farina builds on that to explain how cells work, or muscle tissue is created, he continually reminds readers of these processes’ ultimate electrochemical origins. Is This Wi-Fi Organic is both educational and fun, but it has its quirks. Farina’s passion for creating a scientifically literate populace is admirable but leads him to a naive technotriumphalism at times — championing a command economy and cold fusion, for instance. Farina might be served looking at a history or economics book once in a while. Despite this, I think the book is helpful as an introduction to the basic goings-on of the natural world and ourselves, especially if paired with something like A Survival Guide to the Misinformation Age, which focused more on skills on interpreting graphs, parsing statistics, etc.

Related:
The Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe: How to Know What’s Really Real in a World Increasingly Full of Fake, Steven Novella et. al. From the hosts of “The Skeptics Guide to the Universe“, a skeptical/science/geek podcast I’ve been listening to since 2006.
The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, Carl Sagan
A Survival Guide to the Misinformation Age, David Helfand
50 Popular Beliefs that People Believe are True, Guy Harrison

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The Hacking of the American Mind

The Hacking of the American Mind: The Science Behind the Corporate Takeover of Our Bodies and Brains
© 2017 Robert Lustig
352 pages

Robert Lustig is an endocrinologist who gained public recognition when he delivered a lecture entitled “Sugar: the Bitter Truth”, which exposed the opioid-like effects of sugar, its saturation in the American diet, and how fructose in action resembles a toxin. I don’t remember how the timing of my watching that worked with my switching to a low-processed foods diet and subsequently losing nearly two hundred pounds, but in my subsequent health reading to understand my experiences, I began learning about metabolic syndrome, insulin resistance, and other factors that connected to Lustig’s arguments perfectly. His The Hacking of the American Mind continues his campaign against the ubiquity and deleterious effects of sugar, but broadens it to a general attack on how corporate America (except for the medical and pharmaceutical giants who only want us to be healthy, naturally) conflate pleasure and happiness, using brain chemistry to addict us to the pursuit of their products, despite the attending health costs of depression, obesity, etc. Hacking is at once wholly promising and disappointing: promising because of the importance and ambition of its subject, and disappointing for the breezy and casual style in which it is treated.

Lustig opens by differentiating between pleasure and lasting happiness,  first drawing on the observations of philosophers before switching to his own specialty.  Although wisdom traditions across the world have recognized the futility of pursuing pleasure to achieve happiness (even the Epicureans, who defined pleasure as the only good, nonetheless promoted voluntary simplicity to avoid the hedonic treadmill trap), Lustig argues that we now know the neurology underlying the pleasure/happiness distinction.  One is derived wholly from dopamine, and the other from serotonin.   Although dopamine rushes can be intense, they are  also short-lived and provide diminishing returns: to  protect the participating neural connections, the body downregulates their sensitivity. The result is that people who want to replicate the same high have to indulge in the originating behavior all the more, creating a cycle of addiction and depression.   Anything that triggers dopamine rushes can thus become addictive: food, sex,  gambling, video games, etc — and if it’s actively promoted through advertising, dopamine rewards are involved. This has become a progressive problem in industrialized nations, because dopamine triggers are increasingly cheap to come by,   allowing people to self-sabotage their mental health in the pursuit of pleasure – and physical health problems quickly follow. This is especially the case with Lustig’s bête noire, sugar:  here he recapitulates his argument against sugar, especially fructose. Although Lustig addresses other common sources of addiction and misery, particularly smartphone usage and opiods, he returns to sugar repeatedly: this is understandable given Lustig’s profession, how destructive fructose is to insulin regulation, and how ubiquitous sugar is in the American food supply. As Michael Moss documented in Salt, Sugar, Fat, sugar is abundant even in food products that aren’t ‘sweet’; it’s commonly used as a preservative and a bulkifier. Lustig’s prescription is to “connect, contribute, cope, and cook” — rapidly dialing down our consumption of social media, taking tech sabbaths and spending real time with in-the-flesh people, finding ways to volunteer and help in our local communities, and hitting multiple birds with one spatula by learning to cook. Not only will shifting to fresh foods eliminate much of the processed rubbish from our diets, but it’s a technical skill that delivers satisfaction and is a convenient way to bring people together. Few things rival the company of good friends around a dinner table, that’s for certain.

Hacking was a must-read for me because it addresses so many important issues to mental and physical health: metabolic syndrome, consumerism, and their common fuel of addiction. As much as I wanted to love the book, though, and hasten to recommend it, it’s riven with problems. Lustig is an inconsistent author, at times so breezy and quick with pop culture references as to undermine what should be a sober and earnest call to arms, and at others employing so convoluted a sentence structure that a reader has to circle the block a few times to parse what’s being said. The casualness is far more pervasive, though, which diminished the book’s credibility — especially when it marks not just style, but treatment of subjects outside biochemistry. There are outright mistakes (referring to Obamacare as something that had been done away with, referring to Trump as the first populist president, mischaracterizing agape as religious zeal) and a general cavalierness even within his stronger beat. For instance, when remarking on how cigarettes were once promoted as a curative for obesity, he treats this merely as addiction transference despite nicotine’s known effect as an appetite suppressant. As much as I loved the topic and respected Lustig’s goal (and agreed with his prescription, limited as it was), the book read as messy. It wasn’t the forceful, clear argument that the author delivered in his original “Sugar” lecture, and that the subject merited. Even so, it’s worth your time if you, like me, are concerned about how the western way of eating, and the compulsive nature of consumption (of stuff, of The News, etc), destroy people’s health.

Related:
Salt, Sugar, Fat: How the Food Giants Tricked Us, Michael Moss
Drunk Flies and Stoned Dolphins: A Trip Through the World of Animal Intoxication, One R. Pagan
Affluenza: The All-Consuming Epidemic, various
The Year of No Sugar, Eve Schaub
The Obesity Code, Jason Fung
Spark: Exercise and the Brain, Jason Ratey
Dreamland: The True Tale of America’s Opiod Epidemic, Sam Quinones
Why We Get Fat, Gary Taubes
American Mania: When More Isn’t Enough, Peter Whybrow

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Ten Years of the Classics Club

The Classics Club recently celebrated its 10-year anniversary, and posed some questions to its readers. I began participating in 2015, wrapping up my first list in 2020 and starting a new one weeks later. My original plan with the Classics Club Strikes Back (my second list) was to knock it out in three years. A year and a half into CCSB, I’ve read 21 books, so it’s still possible. Given my lack of progress this year (I’ve read one title), I’ll have to come out swinging in 2023.

The Questions

When did you join the Classics Club? 

September 2015.

What is the best classic book you’ve read for the club so far? Why?

Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago  comes to mind. It’s an amazing blend of eye-opening history, insight into human nature, and wholesale condemnation of the communist state.


What is the first classic you ever read?

As part of the Classics Club, Emma; in general, The Call of the Wild.


Which classic book inspired you the most?

It’s not from my CC lists, but Thoreau’s Walden was part of the reason I began pursuing simple living and minimalism.


What is the most challenging one you’ve ever read, or tried to read?

From this list, Catch-22; it took me four times. In high school, I tried and failed (quickly) to read Faulker’s Sound and Fury.


Favourite movie adaptation of a classic? Least favorite?
Gotta go with Gone with the Wind for a favorite; I haven’t seen many others, but I have assurances from multiple parties that the new Persuasion is terrible.


Which classic character most reminds you of yourself?

Ivan Ilyich, because we both have/had serious kidney issues. :p


Has there been a classic title you expected to dislike and ended up loving? Respecting? Appreciating?

I expected to read The Jungle with a scowl on my face the entire time, but Sinclair delivered a compelling story, for the most part — until Jurgis disappears as a character to become nothing but the passive listener of lectures on politics and economics.


Classic/s you are DEFINITELY GOING TO MAKE HAPPEN next year?

Er, the ones I don’t get to this year. I’ll say Plutarch’s Heroes because it’s very unlikely (unless I suddenly get in a Greco-Roman mood) that I’ll get to them in 2022.


Favorite memory with a classic and/or your favourite memory with The Classics Club?

Finishing War and Peace and reveling in my ability to brag about having read it. Gulag Archipelago is larger and Brothers Karamazov more complex, but they don’t have the same cachet as Tolstoy, for whatever reason.

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Book meme remix liberated from CK

Cyberkitten recently posted a couple of book memes, and I’m borrowing questions from both.

What’s the first book you remember reading?

The earliest reading memory I have is a Sesame Street title involving Bert, Ernie, and some monster in the closet.

Did someone read to you as a child?

Ohhh, yeah. I can remember my dad reading Tom Sawyer to me. We were a reading family.

Who is your all-time favorite book character?
Jayber Crow.

Who is your favorite author of all time? Your favorite book by them?

I’m going to say Wendell Berry and his Jayber Crow.

Has a book ever changed your life?

On multiple occasions! I did a post about that a few years ago (..er, eight years ago. Tempus fugit.). Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations is probably top of the list.

What genres do you love?
In fiction, I mostly read historical fiction, with some science fiction. In nonfiction: history and science duke it out every year. History is the reliable winner but it can never rest on its laurels. Politics and social issues bring up the second tier.

Are there any genres you dislike?
Dodgy self-help and romance.

What author (who is still living) would you dearly love to meet?
Easy easy easy. Bill Kauffman. I’d love to split a bottle of decent whiskey and tie up a bar’s best table for a few hours with him. His strong localist views, knowledge of America’s most interesting and original characters, and command of obscure American literature make him someone whose company I’d love to hang out in.

Have you ever met a (famous or semi-famous) author face to face? Where?
I ate lunch next to Jim Kunstler back in 2008. I hadn’t read any of his stuff yet, so he was spared both interrogation and adulation.

Do you prefer paperbacks or ebooks? Why?
Ebooks for most reading, physical for books that amazon might decide are thoughtcrime and try to delete.

Have you ever read a self-published book?
Via kindle, many times. My first kindle title was a minimalist youtuber’s manifesto, Disrupting the Rabblement. Niall Doherty was the name.

What book or series do you hope will be turned into a movie or TV show one day?

None of them. I don’t consider dramatizations an improvement. I’m dreading what AppleTV does to Foundation.

What attracts you to a book? The cover? Blurb? Recommendation from others?
Title, price, author, reviews.

Have you read any of the old classics? What did you think of them?
Many. It varies on the book. Some, like Gulag Archipelago, were amazing. Others, like Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, had solid writing but were not fun to read.

What is your favorite book cover?
Bill Kauffman’s Look Homeward, America comes to mind. It uses Grant Wood’s “Spring in Town”.

How many books do you read a month?
On average, 13.

What was your favorite book when you were a child?
I went through a stack of books a week as a kid, so it’s hard to say. The Call of the Wild was one I often re-read, though, along with Robinson Crusoe.

Do you like to write reviews on Amazon or Goodreads? 

I write reviews here and crosspost them to Goodreads, but sometimes I’ll post a one-liner on goodreads for books that don’t give full writeups here. 

Where do you usually discover new books? Physical bookstores? Online? Social media? 

Mostly online, using amazon’s “Related” tab, but I also make a monthly trip to Books a Million to sip coffee and photograph book covers that interest me. I look up  reviews for them and keep an eye out for used copies later in the year.

Have you ever joined a book club? 

I used to be a member of the library’s “Book Bunch”, a group that met weekly to talk about the books we were reading.  We didn’t do a common reading, but if a book was popular it would make the rounds: everyone wound up reading Where the Crawdads Sing, for instance. 

What deceased author would you have liked to meet? 

Isaac Asimov or Carl Sagan: Asimov would be more interesting on the whole, I think.  (Now, ‘deceased authors whose conversation I’d like to eavesdrop on’ would be Lewis and Tolkien!)

Think about your favorite genre. To you, which author is the master of that genre? 

For fiction, I’d say historical fiction and that means Bernard Cornwell.

Do you judge a book by its cover? Would a shoddy cover put you off? 

This is important for ebooks, because it’s a fast and dirty way to see how much effort has been put into the book. If the cover was something I could have put together in MS Paint, I may move on without looking at the book further. Bad covers are not always indicative of low-effort contents, but it’s a useful rule of thumb.

Do certain tropes attract you? For example, orphans, love triangles, anti-heroes? 

I’m attracted to stories about people who go wrong and then redeem themselves, which is probably why I love Red Dead Redemption II so much. 

Are there any books you haven’t been able to finish? Why not? 

Life is short. No time to waste on books that are badly written with subjects or stories that don’t interest me. 

Did you read books in school? Can you remember which ones? 

I always had books in my bag, beyond what we were reading for class. Gooosebumps, Boxcar Children, Animorphs, Roswell High, and California Diaries were some series I’d invariably be reading or re-reading.

Are there any books you could read over and over again and never get bored of? 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve reread Asimov’s Black Widower stories or the first Foundation collection. The same would go for a few John Grisham titles (The Rainmaker and Last Juror), or Max Shulman’s The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.  

What’s the last book you read? 

I just finished Imperial America, a collection of essays (1980s – 2004) from Gore Vidal. 

What’s the last book you bought? Did you buy it online or at a store? Ebook or paperback? 

An ebook called Star Trek: Agents of Influence by Dayton Ward. Every month a small number (5- 10) of Kindle/Star Trek titles are put on sale.

What book can you recommend to me? 

The Code of the Woosters, P.G. Wodehouse. You don’t know how funny English can be until you’ve experienced its treatment at the hands of Wodehouse.

When did you last visit a library? 

This morning. (I work at one.)

Has a book ever made you laugh out loud? 

Bernard Cornwell invariably does with his dialogue.

Has a book ever made you cry? 

The Pigman by Paul Zindel comes to mind, as does Redshirts by John Scalzi – not the main story, but its codas. 

What book will you read next? 

I’m currently reading The Lonely American  and The End of Gender, but both are rather serious so I may stop for something more fun.

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Of Babylonians, demons, and bankers

Continuing in the Big Book Catchup…

Paul Kriwaczek’s Babylon: Mesopotamia and the Birth of Civilization covers Mesopotamian history from the establishment of Eridu to the rise of the  first Persian empire.  This is a survey of thousands of years of city-kingdoms battling one another for dominance, and later small kingdoms doing the same, creating complex relationships – most notably, the convoluted Assyrian-Babylonian one, as Assyria began as part of one “Babylonian” kingdom,   became distinct from it, and later came to dominate another version of Babylon before both were absorbed by the  Achaemenid Persians.  Although the narrative is quite readable, Kriwaczek does the reader no favors by frequently switching focus from macro-subjects to micro-ones: one moment we’re reading about general trends in Babylonian politics, the next we’re studying how city-state command economies compared to Soviet ones.    I’ve read surveys of this subject before (Asimov’s The Near East, Durant’s Our Oriental Heritage, etc) and was able to follow along, but I think if I were someone approaching with no background knowledge I’d still be feeling a bit lost.  I’ve another book by Kriwaczek, Searching for Zarathrusta: I imagine a more narrow focus serves him better. 

Neil Gaiman’s Good Omens is a fantasy novel about the end of things. It opens with a demon and an angel standing at the entrance to the Garden of Eden, watching the newly-evicted Adam and Eve begin to make their way east into exile. As they try to make sense of what’s happened, something of a friendship is born – and when, years later, the demon is tasked with helping bring about the End of Things,  the two both decide that they like Earth as it is and would prefer to avoid the apocalypse and all that.  It’s a comic fantasy about doomsday: I started off with the excellent audiobook and then switched to the book proper. 

The Hospital: Life, Death, and Dollars In a Small American Town by  Brian Alexander is a history of one independent hospital’s director to keep his organization free of the large hospital corporations, which would doubtlessly close and consolidate services to increase profit margins.  In addition to this local-level history, Alexander also reviews (cursorily) the change in American healthcare from mission-oriented to revenue-oriented. The book is a fairly transparent attempt to persuade readers that the United States needs a centralized health system run by those geniuses at DC (The ones who wasted twenty years in Afghanistan, tried to persuade us that cloth masks stopped viruses and that mass arson in tribute of a career criminal was good for public health)  because the current system is too complex and criminally inflated.  I don’t think anyone would dispute the miserable state of things currently, but how anyone can watch DC in action and want them to have more authority and responsibility over one’s health is breathtaking. “The government should just…do something about it” is the height of passivity, laziness, and unoriginality.


Gore Vidal’s Imperial America collects essays and interview transcripts from the author and critic. The collection appears to have been inspired by the growing war & police state of the post-9/11 period, though Vidal looks for context as far back as James Polk and the invasion of Mexico, and many pieces are from the 1980s. Vidal also comments on the mixed success of the American Republic in the 19th century, and its wholesale destruction in the 20th, wholly captured by the military-industrial complex, financial powers, and other corporate interests.  Vidal continues to be of interest because he’s not one to be boxed in:    his essays against Reagan and George W. Bush are predictable and amusing for the wrong reasons, as he seriously believes both men’s religious views might compel them to usher in the Apocalypse, but then he surprises me by taking potshots at Hamilton, Lincoln, and the FBI – the latter of which, he writes, has since its founding focused more on the regime’s political enemies rather than to the lowly likes of organized crime.  The Fibbies certainly haven’t changed.

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Fighting for Space

Fighting for Space: Two Pilots and their Historic Battle for Female Spaceflight
© 2020 Amy Shira Teitel
448 pages

When the age of flight arrived,   women were as eager to take to the skies as men.  Fighting for Space is a joint biography of two women, pioneers from different generations, who  created  extraordinary lives for themselves in the air, and then – as  rockets began  rising above airplanes –  wondered if they might not  be able to push the envelope further, and help put women in space.   Amy Shira Teitel (host of the uber-cool and always interesting space history channel, Vintage Space) here introduces readers to Jackie Cochrane, an entrepreneur who flew with Amalia Earhart and Chuck Yeager;  and Jerrie Cobb,   who arranged to have herself subjected to the same battery of tests as the Mercury 7,  leading the way for another twelve women to do the same – funded by Cochrane.   It’s an expanding story of  early aviation,  growing  opportunities for women in World War 2, and the determination of two women to surpass the expectations of their sex  and beat the Russians to sending a woman into space.  The subjects are admirable, their combined story compelling – but where Teitel really triumphs is creating a history that tells of their struggle without reducing it to a predictable propaganda piece. Instead, our two heroines have flaws, and even actively resent the other – and the men who ultimately frustrate  their ambitions, LBJ and Jim Webb, are  presented not as villains but as men beset with responsibilities, working to fulfill them with the limited resources at hand as best they could. 

Although both of the subjects of this book are remarkable, if I had to choose one over the other, it would have to be Jackie Cochrane. Growing up in poverty, forced to drop out of school and join the workforce before she was a proper teenager, let alone an adult, Cochrane kept her eyes open for opportunities and created a successful salon business for herself. From an early age, she had a forceful self-confidence and was unafraid to confront those who tried to take advantage of her, and business would only get better after she attracted the attention of a business tycoon, who encouraged her to pursue flying to help her grow her market. Flying became more of a joy and a challenge in itself, and she pushed herself to become not only good, but The Best — racing in airshows at a time when flying was far more dangerous than it is now, even when pilots weren’t trying to cross the country as quickly as possible under adverse conditions. Jackie’s prominence as an aviator and interest in creating an American version of the Air Transport Auxiliary (a program in England in which female pilots were used to transport planes from base to base, freeing up men for combat) made her an instrumental part of creating and directing what became the Womens Airforce Service Pilots program, better known as WASPS. After the war, she continued pushing herself as an aviator, enlisting her friend Chuck Yeager’s help to train her to fly the new jet aircraft becoming more popular. Meanwhile, a young Jerrie Cobb fell in love with flying as a teenager, and beat bushes looking for opportunities to work with planes for a living — a hard ask in the postwar years, as the market was glutted with cashiered airmen looking for jobs that could get them back in the air. When the International Geophysical Year and Sputnik propelled the United States toward creating a manned rocket program, Cobb was aggressively interested in seeing if women couldn’t make the cut, either. As it happened, the Lovelace lab was interested in the data generated from women taking the same tests as men: even if NASA wasn’t currently looking for female astronauts, it presumably would eventually. Cobb’s relentless promotion of inclusion for female pilots saw her named (by LBJ, who had made the space program his baby) as a consultant to NASA. With funding from Cochrane, other women were invited t to take the same panel of physical and psychological tests as Glenn, Grissom, and the rest of the Mercury men — though NASA was under such stress at the time to catch up and surpass the Russians that it wanted to focus on astronauts of known quantities, hence the Mercury pioneers being drawn exclusively from test pilots. After the biggest incentive for sending a woman into space — being the first to do it — was removed courtesy of Russia sending up Valentina Tereshkova — Cobb and Cochrane realized that women in space was a lost cause for now, and Cobb switched her flying zeal to doing missionary work. The United States wouldn’t send a woman into space until 1983, when Sally Ride was named to an early space shuttle mission: a year later, Kathryn Sullivan became the first woman to do a spacewalk.

Fighting for Space was the most fun I’ve had reading history in a while: admittedly, early aviation and the Mercury-Apollo era are two of those subjects I can’t read enough about, but Teitel’s research and professionalism made the book a must-recommend. The women are not made inviolate icons despite their dogged triumphs, and the men are not demonized: instead, we get a full, even history that doubles as a great story.

Related:
Fly Girls: How Five Daring Women Defied the Odds and Made Aviation History, Keith O’Brien
Through the Glass Ceiling to the Stars, Eileen Collins. Collins was an early military pilot who was barred from combat missions, but used her experience flying cargo planes to good effect in the Shuttle program. She was the first female commander of an STS mission, and many of the women that Jerrie Cobb led to be tested as prospective astronauts were there to witness her launch.
Rise of the Rocket Girls. Nathalia Holt. This title focuses on NASA’s ‘computers’, women doing the rocketry calculations that allowed the space program to develop from seized German rockets.
The Women with Silver Wings: The Inspiring True Story of the WASPS, Katherine Landeck. Cochrane has a HUGE listing in the index, as you might imagine. On my to-read list.
The Hurricane Girls, Jo Wheeler. The history of Britain’s ATA program, the inspiration for the WASPS. On my “probably to read” list. The reviews indicate it has a lot of technical errors. Cyberkitten reviewed it here.

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