October 2022 in Review

Starting October, I had two things in mind: one, a nod to Mental Health Awareness Month; two, a nod to Halloween that would come in either some appropriate nonfiction (I have books on blood and skeletons) or in a look at the future-horror of the atomic age, both through nuclear testing and the rise of UFO mania. I also wanted to squeeze in something about German history if I could, in observance of Unification Day. I managed….Life and Death in the Third Reich, 2 books relating to mental health, and a scattering of randos.

Classics Club
I started reading Dune. It’s not grabbing me yet.

Mount Doom
Life and Death in the Third Reich, Peter Fritszche
Survival City: Adventures in the Ruins of Atomic America, Tom Vanderbilt

Hey, two books! That’s…something. Ignore the amount of books I bought last month and this month.

Science Survey 2022
The survey was fulfilled in September, but more fuel for the fire! An Immense World and The Skeptic’s Guide to the Future brought us up to 18 books so far. We’ll crack 20 easy, but I’d love to finish the year at 24.

Mental Health Awareness Month
Unstitched: My Journey to Understand Opioid Addiction
Hooked: The Pitfalls of Media, Technology, and Social Networking (review in progress)

Newly Acquired:
The Politically Incorrect Guide to the Civil War, H.W. Crocker II. From the author of Armstrong, the funny alt-history novel about Custer surviving Little Bighorn and becoming a gun for hire.
Adventures with Ed: A Portrait of Abbey
Postcards from Ed: Dispatches and Salvos from an American Iconoclast
Faces Along the Bar: Lore and Order in the Workingman’s Saloon
Sid Meier’s Memoir! A Life in Computer Games

The Every, Dave Eggers
8 Days in the Woods: The Making of the Blair Witch Project

Okay, new goal: make it to December without buying any books. If I do, I’ll reward myself with fried ice cream from my favorite Mexican place.

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Teaser Tuesday: Go Set a Watchman

She walked down the steps and into the shade of a live oak. She put her arm out and leaned against the trunk. She looked at Maycomb, and her throat tightened: Maycomb was looking back at her. Go away, the old buildings said. There is no place for you here. You are not wanted. We have secrets.

“Remember this also: it’s always easy to look back and see what we were, yesterday, ten years ago. It is hard to see what we are. If you can master that trick, you’ll get along.”

“Very well, if you won’t let me tell you what Melbourne said I’ll put it in my own words: the time your friends need you is when they’re wrong, Jean Louise. They don’t need you when they’re right.”

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Afternoons with Harper Lee

Afternoons with Harper Lee
© 2022 Wayne Flynt
256 pages

Recently I had the pleasure of listening to historian Dr. Wayne Flynt speak at my local library,  drawing from his new book, Afternoons with Harper Lee.   As with Mockingbird Songs, a collection of letters exchanged between himself and the famed author,  this memoir grows out of Flynt’s and his wife Dartie’s long friendship with the Monroeville native.  Afternoons takes its name from the Flynts’ afternoon visits with Lee in the care center she lived the last years of her life in following a stroke in her adopted city of New York.  The memoir combines a personable Harper Lee biography with a messy account of the Flynt-Lee friendship, along with musings on the meaning of  To Kill a Mockingbird and Go Set a Watchman.    Although I’ve been dubious about Watchman since its release and have never read it because of my suspicions that its publication was done over the head of its declining author,  Flynt’s conversations with Lee here indicate that she’d finished it in 1957, but that it simply hadn’t been published.  Even more interestingly, she penned a third work, a true crime piece about a Baptist preacher who was popularly regarded as a serial killer who’d only escaped justice through voodoo until he met a vigilante gunman. The manuscript, never submitted for publication because of fear of legal suits,  was lost over the years. Go Set a Watchman, Flynt suggests, depicted Lee’s own youthful innocence dying. Atticus Finch was the unparalleled hero of Mockingbird,  but in Watchman the young adult Scout has to witness her father making compromises to prevent worse evils. While Flynt’s lecture suggested Lee had come to terms with this, in the book itself she comes off as more permanently disaffected about her father, and  bitter about the South and Monroeville in general. Flynt reiterates although Lee often presented herself as a cantankerous recluse, she was warm and funny to those she admitted into her trust. She made for difficult company as a reader, but I was drawn to this out of interest in what it might reveal about Watchman and her friendship with the legendary oral historian Kathryn Tucker Windham. The book delivers substance about the former but only a brief mention of the latter.

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Spinning Atoms in the Desert

Bombast: Spinning Atoms in the Desert
© 2010 Michon Mackedon
236 pages

Which is more breathtaking, the power of the atom bomb or the hubris of governments that use it? Michon Mackedon’s Bombast will leave readers wondering. It reviews the approach of the Atomic Energy Commission to organizing and testing a succession of increasingly more powerful bombs from the Marshall Islands to Nevada, looking at the use of language in particular to frame this testing as innocuous and positive (“bigger bombs for a brighter tomorrow”, to borrow from another history related to this subject). Despite its small pagecount, the book has the heft of a textbook, and sometimes the prose quality of one: it’s not technical, but far more academic than ‘popular’, and will be of interest primarily to those obsessed with the early atomic age. It has much to say on the cold-blooded way the state treats those are in the way of its aims, as well as the means through which dissenters’ concerns are made to look ridiculous, ignorant, and unpatriotic.

There were legitimate fears in the 1940s that the initial test of the nuclear bomb might cause a chain reaction capable of igniting the atmosphere: that the test continued says much about the stakes and excitement around nuclear weaponry’s potential. During World War 2, bombing raids against cities like Hamburg, Berlin, and Schweinfurt would consisted of scores, hundreds, and (in the case of Cologne) a thousand bombers — but the Bomb promised to drastically reduce the number of airplanes and more valuable airmen at risk. Although Hiroshima and Nagasaki demonstrated the destructive potential of the bomb more than adequately to the world, these initial mechanisms were crude: more sophisticated and potent delivery systems were being created, and they needed to be tested — both their scope, and their array of effects. This could be as crude as dropping bombs into the middle of a fleet of obsolete ships, near islands with animals chained at various intervals to test the range of destruction of organic issue, or as elaborate as nuking fake villages in the desert to examine how architecture could deflect and protect against explosive energy. The tricky part, of course, was finding land. The initial Trinity test was conducted in the New Mexico desert near White Sands and Alamogordo, but there were concerns about radiation so close to human settlements. DC had assumed control of the Marshall Islands after evicting the Japanese, and initially that seemed a good candidate for testing — especially since the few hundred people who lived on Bikini Atoll believed DC’s sale pitch that their temporary evacuation of the islands would advance science, progress, and the interests of a lasting peace. They expected to return to the islands after the tests were concluded and the sites cleaned: it would be decades before any Marshallese returned, and they would find that parts of the atolls of sacred memory were simply gone, and that debris was everywhere. In the mid-fifties, the Atomic Energy Commission switched to areas of Nevada that were deemed ‘wasteland’, of no use to anyone. Mackdeon heavily scrutinizes the simplistic approach of the AEC in judging land as useless, and the self-serving way experts were trotted out to assure Nevadans that the tests were harmless. Oh, were there cows giving birth to dead or bizarrely mutated calves? Must be malnutrition. Incidents occurred with nearly every test, as sometimes the wind would shift and radioactive particles would drift into populated areas like Sacramento, or the new devices would have unexpected power. The state often played fast and loose with the tests, at one point ordering soldiers out of a shelter immediately after a detonation to test the soldiers’ ability to perform actions amid the explosion’s aftermath (severe winds and dissipating mushroom cloud).

Despite this, government’s new ally The Science was successful in selling regular explosions as largely innocuous, as pop culture began reflecting an enthusiasm for all things atomic: Las Vegas even hosted a “Miss Atomic Bomb” beauty contest. The creation of better bombs, the continued building of the nuclear arsenal of democracy, was sold as an absolute good. Misinformation wasn’t just a matter of forgetting to communicate inconvenient facts, or thoughtlessly interpreting data in the most positive way possible: when citizens expressed concern about more powerful thermonuclear devices being tested, President Eisenhower suggested keeping the public confused about the distinction between fission (Hiroshima-level bombs) and the far more powerful fusion bombs. Mackdeon argues that the government has continued to keep citizens largely in the dark about the dangers of radioactive byproducts, and ends the book by transitioning to the debate over creating a nuclear waste disposal site in Yucca Mountain.

Although Bombast certainly isn’t for everyone, it’s a fascinating look into the early culture of nuclear testing for the obsessed.

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Teaser Tuesday: Bombast

…..wait a tic, it’s not Tuesday. Oh, well. Today’s teaser comes from Bombast: Spinning Atoms in the Desert, about the government’s efforts to convince Nevadans that dropping nukes on a regular basis a half-hour’s drive from their homes was hunky-dory.

“Ernest O. Lawrence was at first assigned the codename Ernest Lawson. When that code name was leaked, security officers assigned him the new name Oscar Wilde, because Wilde had written the play The Importance of Being Earnest.”

“During the second phase of Project Sunshine, cadavers were purchased from pathology labs so the bones might be tested for strontium-90 uptake. The AEC itself, in an internal memo, described the process as body-snatching: ‘Human samples are of great importance and if anyone knows how to do a good job of body snatching, they will really be serving their country.'”

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America Walks into a Bar

America Walks into a Bar: A Spirited History of Taverns and Saloons, Speakeasies and Grog Shops
© 2014 Christine Sismondo
336 pages

Welcome, friend. Pull up a stool.    You’ve come in at the tail end of a story, but it’s one worth hearing again. It’s the history of America, as told from the bar.   That doesn’t mean it’s a history of drunkenness in the United States, though that would certainly be worth reading.  Instead, Christine Sismondo  demonstrates how foundational taverns were to colonial and revolutionary history,   and how they’ve continued to sit at the crossroads of American history until the mid-late 20th century.   The story peaks with the 1930s,   soldiers through until the 1970s, and fade out shortly thereafter.   Sismondo combines amusing anecdotes and genuinely interesting history, albeit with some gaps.

In contemporary America, a bar is merely one option among a multitude that you might go on the weekend – -whether your purpose is having a drink with the boys, looking for a date, or  watching a game on the now-ubiquitous televisions.  In colonial America, though, it was the only place.  Taverns weren’t just places for spirits and food:   they were meeting halls and courthouses in the early years,  and were often the first building erected in a given community.  News collected there, and debates were had:   this function proved especially important during the years of the Revolution and the war for independence,    hosting political debates that sharpened colonial arguments about the tyranny of Parliament, and  allowing for direct action and other strikes to be planned. Still later, the taverns were recruiting  centers to enlist American men to fight for their liberty against the crown — and the spaces themselves were used to store supplies during the war effort. After the revolution,  taverns were also the center of patriotic rebellions against the new tax tyrants, the likes of Hamilton and company, but these (alas) met more effective reaction than Parliament could muster. 

  After an abrupt jump past the southern war for independence,  Sismondo covers the role of taverns in creating political machines,  something that would increase their profile as the 19th century wore on – and not in a good way.    Ardent spirits were cheap to come by in agricultural America, especially corn whiskey and gin,  leading to increasing rates of abuse –   and a growing alliance of wives and factory owners wanted to dry out the men of America, preferably at the source.   Not only were sober workers more productive (or, at least, less likely to stick their limbs in moving machinery to see if it tickled), but closing down taverns and the like would deny union organizers and other dissident voices a place to gather and plan.  Another strong component of the prohibition movement was the widespread unease with America’s surging immigrant population, as well as the mass arrival of blacks from the agricultural south to the industrial north – unease caused both by the usual human fear of those who are different, but also  of the influence immigrants had on local politics, ballooning political machines and pushing disruptive ideas like anarchism.    The Ku Klux Klan, the most ardent of prohibitionists,  were emblematic of many of prohibition’s motives.  The book loses steam after this,   in part because taverns played an increasingly smaller role in moving American society. They often became instead the platform to demonstrate change that was already happening, as when women began invading men’s space and imposing sit-ins in some  pastel imitation of the Civil Rights sit-ins.   The bar came less of a place for men to gather, drink, and debate, and more of a casual recreation spot, increasingly populated by strollers and dominated by the racket of televisions.  Post 1960s the only interesting politicized bar activity were the Stonewall riots, linked to Stonewall Inn that served as a gay bar,   and the resultant push for more toleration and rights for homosexuals.

America Walks into a Bar was great fun, a deft mix of social and more ‘serious’ history — focusing on the connection between them, and hinting at the importance of the built environment for civic and social health. The drift of the tavern from an encompassing community center to a dingy spot on the highway inviting drunk driving, or a loud, hypercommercialized sports bar, is a sad one, but this is nonetheless a fun introduction to the importance of bars to early American history — an a celebration of the places they once were.

Possibly to follow…Madelon Powers’ Faces along the Bar: Lore and Order in the Workingman’s Saloon, 1870-1920. I have it waiting but have been distracted by nuclear wessels.

Related:
The Great Good Places: Cafes, Coffee Shops, Bars, and the Other Hangouts at the Heart of a Community, Ray Oldenberg
Last Call: The Rise and Fall of Prohibition, Daniel Okrent
Drink: A Cultural History of Alcohol, Ian Gately

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Armstrong

Custer of the West: Armstrong
© 2018 H.W. Crocker III
264 pages


“Miss Johnson, I pledge to you my confederate here—who is actually a real Confederate—and I will not let this stand. Together with my troop of Chinese acrobats we will end the tyranny of the Largo Trading Company.”

History records that General George A. Custer was killed at the Battle of Little Bighorn, ending an illustrious and often dramatic career. History is wrong, for  we discover in Armstrong that the general in fact survived the ambush, being rescued by a white captive-wife of the Sioux,  who wanted to thank him for killing her husband   The two fled and hid among a traveling theatrical group,   and after a series of bloody and zany events, found themselves in an odd town that proved to have dark secrets.   The townsfolk had been effectively enslaved by a local trading company with a private army and Sioux allies.    Being a knight-errant in the service of Truth, Justice, and the American way, Custer promptly donned a new name – “Armstrong” – and commenced to a lot of derring-do.  The result is Armstrong, a comic western novel that draws on western stock characters and tropes while having a little fun at history (and especially Custer’s) expense. 

Armstrong’s first mission is to escape the Sioux, but the manner in which he does so (pretending to be a trick shooter in a theatrical group)  disrupts his original plan of clearing his name for the massacre at Little Big Horn. He was set up, you see, and he’s particularly suspicious of that drunk in the White House, Grant. After a little bloodbath ensues at Armstrong’s first show, he and the traveling show escape to a little town in a canyon, which seems like a peaceful sanctuary until he realizes there’s something rotten going on. He pledges himself to liberate the town from the government contractors who have imprisoned it, despite being woefully outmanned. His aides in this chivalrous quest include a former Confederate who is a dasher with the ladies; a multilingual Crow scout; a band of dancing girls, and a troop of Chinese acrobats who he trains as skirmishers. The western tropes start with the rebel-with-a-cause and the native ally and only grow from there, but Crocker employs them to have fun with them. The novel is a comic western, its plot warmed by absurdism as much as the Sonoran sun, and features a multitude of running jokes — from Armstrong having to frequently disguise himself, to fun with language. One of the sillier bits includes Armstrong relying on his hunch that all dogs know German using his…er, limited knowledge of Hochdeutsch to enlist a dog as his ally. (“Helpenzie me, bitte!”) It’s reminiscent of Mel Brooks, complete with elements that would no doubt drive some modern readers red with self-righteous rage, like Chinese acrobats whose knowledge of English is limited, or the Union and Confederate officers having a discussion about their respective causes that doesn’t end with the southerner beating his breast in repentance. Although this is intended as fantastical, humorous take on The Western, Crocker nonetheless works in real facts, aided by his having written a Custer biography. I was surprised to learn that Custer served as the groomsman in the wedding of a Confederate friend of his during the war — each man dressed in his uniform.

If you’re in the mood for a ‘light’ western that mixes humor and wild-west adventures, Armstrong is a lot of fun. I think I’ll try more in the series, and explore Crocker’s nonfiction as well.

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Life and Death in the Third Reich

Life and Death in the Third Reich
© 2009 Peter Fritzsche
384 pages

A few years ago I read Peter Fritzsche’s An Iron Wind: Europe Under Hitler, which examined how the Nazi conquest of most of Europe permeated into its culture in the late thirties and forties. Life and Death in the Third Reich does something similar, but focuses more sharply on the culture of Germany. In particular, Fritzsche explores the creation of the Volksgemeinschaft, “The People’s Community”, and how Hitler and his kameraden transformed the land of poets and thinkers into an abattoir for two thirds of Europe’s Jews. He draws heavily on letters and diaries, to follow how German identity became more politicized and the Aryan myth embraced — to the detriment of Germany’s Jews, who became an Other even to Germans who did not accept Hitler’s hostility towards them. It’s both sobering and insightful.

Arguably the most important aspect of Life and Death is the appeal of the People’s Community. Although this can be defined narrowly as a racial community, the idea of the People’s Community came into being at the outbreak of the Great War, when Germans rallied together regardless of religion or politics to defend Germany against its encircling foes. The volksgemeinschaft was a sustaining vision of German society in which everyone included as ‘the people’ were united, along with their interests; capitalists and labor would not be foes arrayed in opposition against one another, but would exist in solidarity: their identity as a middle-class Berliner or a working-class Frankfurter would be overwhelmed by their status as members of the Volk. It’s easy to understand the appeal of this: virtually everyone wants to Belong to something greater than them; it’s why tribes and nation-states (not to be confused with more ideologically-rooted states like DC and the Soviet Union) exist. Most of us also despair of strife and antagonism; we long for peace, and for the people of Germany this would have been a particularly salient desire, accustomed as they were to goon squads of various political parties fighting in the streets, intimidating not only their rivals but the un-aligned who just wanted a cup of coffee. Hitler’s attempted to create this community both through the ideology of German aryan-ness, envisioning Germans as a distinct and superior Race among Europe and the world’s populations, and through politics and economics: fascism promised to align economic interests with those of the nation and its people, and most of society was ‘coordinated’ along the lines of national socialism — schools, civic groups, unions, etc. The idea of national unity was so popular that even those who disliked Hitler and others in the government supported the system he was creating, and the revolution in thinking and doing that he was imposing. It was suddenly springtime for Germany — Germany was restored from its losses-by-treaty twenty years before, redeemed from the shame of Versailles, recovering from the Weimar financial chaos. Such enthusiasm made it easy to ignore those had suddenly been determined to be un-völkisch, chiefly the Jews — especially after the war started. Fritzsche documents the irregular growth of the Holocaust, as both Hitler’s plans and his timing to effect them were greatly altered by Germany’s successes or losses in the fields. By the time the war turned badly for Germany, virtually all of German Jewry was gone, and the concerns of German citizens had turned to themselves — suddenly the target of Anglo-American bombers. Although there was widespread knowledge of something happening in the east (Germans participated in public auctions of Jewish goods, and the sprawling system of export and death required civilian logistical support), the campaign of ‘othering’ the Jews and the collective hardship of enduring the war (one perpetuated, propaganda said, by those wicked capitalist Jews in the West and the wicked communist Jews in the East) diluted the impact. It reminded me a bit of the revelations of grotesque prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib in the immediate post-9/11 period: most Americans would have ordinarily been scandalized and horrified to learn this was happening in their name, but between the overwhelming memory of 9/11 and the sudden war-footing mentality, virtually no one cared. It was happening to reichsfeinden, so — best let The People in Charge handle it. They know what they’re doing, surely.

Life and Death in the Third Reich is a most interesting book, disturbing in its study of how ordinary men, women, and children could become the willing builders of a revolution and a state so terrible that, 90 years later, they remain the face of evil in the west, despite far more murderous states existing then (Soviet Russia) and afterwards (red China, Mao to the present). Moderns who believe themselves too savvy for this sort of thing, who believe they’d never go along with it, are fooling themselves: we all have hunger that politicians claim they can fill, and we will ignore the poison provided it’s coated with enough sugar. We will happily “other” people: in the past two years people have grown to hate one another for not wearing masks, or for not accepting Pfizer’s jab as their lord and savior –and we will ignore great offenses given sufficient distraction or incentive. Beyond the serious lessons offered by this book, it also offers a glimpse into the everyday live of Germans, sharped as it was by Nazism — creating newfound support for hobbies like genealogy (necessary to prove one’s Aryan credentials) and photography, for documenting the ‘people’s revolution’ as it happened, of being both participants in and documenters of, ‘History in the making’.

Related:
They Thought They Were Free: The Germans, 1933- 1945. Milton Mayer.
Black Edelweiss: A Memoir of Combat and Conscience by a Soldier of the Waffen-SS, Johann Voss. One of the more eye-opening and disturbing books I’ve ever read: Voss’s family were middle class and respectable, and disliked Hitler — but they regarded the dangers he was a safeguard against as more important than his own limitations.

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Teaser Tuesday: An innocent man in the arms of a redhead

Teaser Tuesday is a homeless meme adopted by me in which we share excerpts from our current reads. I stumbled upon a seriously entertaining novel in which George Custer survives the ambush at Little Big Horn and becomes a gun for hire.

I flung open the door on one [theatrical wagon], slammed it behind me, and leapt into the arms of a woman seated just inside.
“Well, make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I’m an innocent man running for his life.”
“Well, aren’t you unique? I’ve never met an innocent man.”

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Unstitched

Unstitched: My Journey to Understand Opioid Addiction and How People and Communities Can Heal
© 2021 Brett Ann Stanciu
224 pages

Brett Stanciu had a problem. Someone kept breaking into her small library, pilfering money, and smoking cigarettes.  She knew who the someone was  – Baker, a local drug addict and vagrant who was known to the community as trouble. She even had photographic evidence of him in the library, sitting at her desk, but the police and courts didn’t regard him as enough of a serious threat to address. Even after he was arrested, he was immediately released.  Then, one night,  confronted by a library trustee,  Baker ran out into the night and shot himself.   For most of the town,  this was fuel for a quick run of gossip, a bit of amusement, and nothing else – -but for Stanciu,   it was a tragic end to a frustrating period in her life, and created more questions than relief. Who was Baker?  How had a drug habit led to him dying by himself, his blood pooling next to a woodpile?      This was the beginning of a journey, taking place over a year,  for her search for answers –    sitting down with recovering addicts, substance abuse counselors,  law enforcement, prosecutors, and devastated parents, delving into the whys and wherefores of substance abuse.   Although definitely more of a citizen’s search for answers than a definitive Answer in itself,   it’s a moving story that should provide good context for beginning to understand addiction, particularly opioid addiction, for the lay reader.

Although this is a work of nonfiction, it’s not a conventional ‘just the facts, ma’am’ book. Stanciu presents it as a memoir; it’s more a story that follows her over the course of a year, as she attends conferences and meets people who will sit and interview with her. The reader is invited into her life, her memories during this time, with the physical and social background being drawn for us: Stanciu meditate on the changing weather, the landscape around her; she shares the little conversations she had with her daughters, coworkers, and fellow citizens that kept her thinking about this subject stirred. This was not what I was expecting, but I was quickly won over by it, especially after she mentioned drinking maple-cream coffee and I discovered a recipe for it. The account is especially personal because Stanciu reveals to the reader that she’s in recovery herself, albeit from alcohol rather than opioids. As the year progresses, Stanciu shifts to understanding addiction, not just opioid addiction, as a physical disease: although it begins as an act of will and can be resisted, addiction is a physical disordering of the brain: depending on how it progresses in a person (men and women have different experiences with addiction), it can so rewire their brain that they’re not the same person they were before. There are also other contexts, like family background and abuse: it’s harder for poorer people to recover from addiction, for instance, because even one mishap can destroy them financially. One promising path to recovery that Stanciu discovers is Medication-Assisted Therapy, which uses both drugs to wean users off of opioids, while helping them to figure out what put them on the track to substance abuse to begin with, and re-structure their life to get back on track.

Unstitched is a powerful story, often sad but never hopeless. As a librarian who encounters people whose minds and lives have been destroyed by substance abuse every day, this attempt by a fellow librarian to find answers resonated with me enormously.

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