Forgotten Voices of the Great War
© 2004 ed. Max Author
336 pages
Forgotten Voices of the Great War
© 2004 ed. Max Author
336 pages
From Chunk to Hunk: Diary of a Fat Man
© 2003 Fred Anderson
242 pages
Fred Anderson had an epiphany while munching on snack cakes and watching TV; as he witnessed the amputation of a diabetic man’s leg, he realized: this is my future. Horrified at the thought of losing mobility, and frustrated by not being able to play with his daughter, Fred began watching what he ate and exercising daily. Two years later, he was down over a hundred and fifty pounds. From Chunk to Hunk is his record of that time, a journal doubling as a fitness coach to readers. Its focus is mental; Anderson makes no dietary claims beyond Pollanesque observations that if a foodstuff needs a tv commercial, it’s probably no good for you; instead, he preaches throughout on attitude adjustments, on how to form new habits, how to change attitudes towards food and exercise, and so on. In this two-year account, Anderson not only sheds a man’s weight worth of fat, his health-focused lifestyle frees him from diabetic treatment. He doesn’t forth a dietary or exercise regimen, maintaining that people are sensible enough to recognize “real” — healthy — food. The challenge is consistency, both in eating well and exercising. Anderson begins by treading water, but shifts to daily intensive walks and adds in weight lifting, eventually alternating running days with weight-lifting and cycling days. Persistence is his motto: it doesn’t matter if he makes the odd mistake, he exercises every single day, aside from a once-weekly rest day, and eats well the overwhelming majority of the time. He isn’t a puritan about coveting or abhorring one element or another; he instead makes his ally Time, by simply making the same good choices every day. Aristotle observed that our character is the sum of our actions; excellence is achieved by habit. Anderson’s candor, and the absence of a program being sold, make this a refreshing weight-loss account, one that doesn’t pretend to nutritional wisdom. It’s a bit on the preachy side — despite not being religious, Anderson often quotes from the Bible and uses the same communicative tropes as some folksy preachers — but this is forgivable, as is the sometimes too personal details he includes sporadically. I read this primarily to see how his journey paralleled my own — both of us, in the twilight of our twenties, had a wake-up call and lost over a hundred pounds, with no magic except daily, vigorous exercise and moderate eating of natural foods. I haven’t embraced weight-lifting or running as enthusiastically as he have, but I very well may..
And Then There Were Nuns: Adventures in a Cloistered Life
© 2013 Jane Christmas
292 pages
When Jane Christmas’ boyfriend proposed to her, she gave him the most obvious reply: she said she wanted to join a nunnery. It wasn’t that he had driven her to the cloister; she had been tempted by it for most of her life, but it wasn’t until her beau was down on bended knee that she realized it was now or never. And so she spent the better part of a year living in monastic communities, with nuns and monks alike, in Canada and in Britain, while her extraordinarily long-suffering fiance kept in contact by letter. And Then Were Nuns is a slightly humorous account of an endeavor seriously undertaken: to see if the author truly felt called to be a nun. The result for readers is a look into a world normally out of mind, and an exploration of the value of a monastic life to the religiously-inclined.
Religious orders are the Anglican church’s best-kept secret, Christmas writes, and that’s probably the case, for whoever associates nuns with the Church of England? Nuns are black-habited sisters stalking the halls of private schools or hospitals, thumping children with rulers or humorlessly flipping protesting hospital patients on their backsides to administer shots in their hinterlands. But the Anglican church does have religious orders, male and female, throughout the world, and Christmas begins by spending four weeks at a convent in Toronto, where she’s treated as if she’s on retreat. The initial bit of self-examination unlocks some inner demons, and before making a decision whether to marry her finance or Jesus, she decided a more intensive sojourn is in order, a multi-month stay at a convent in Britain. As she travels there, she stays with nuns and monks at two religious communities on the Isle of Wight, flirting with the Catholic church before an indignant mother informs her that no she bloody well can not join the Romans and become a nun with three marriages to her name. Her experiences there affirm her association with the Church of England, however theologically indecisive and socially regressive it might be. Eventually Jane realizes this time spent living among religious orders wasn’t meant so much to help her make a decision about becoming a nun as to face down a harrowing sexual episode years before.
Christmas has a reputation as a humorist, and Then There Were Nuns combines serious introspection and discussion about the spiritual and material value of the nuns’ work with wry reflections. Awed and nervous by the exploration she’s undertaken, Christmas sometimes escapes the intensity with jokes to herself. This isn’t a laughing trip through the world of intentional religious communities, however; she is a woman on a mission. Eventually the mission bears fruit, if not exactly in the way she would have predicted; always a seeker of the simple, quiet life, Christmas is drawn to the convent for its freedom from outside distraction, constant exhortations to spiritual mindfulness, and above all — meaningful work. The monotony of everyday experience, however, and the inviting presence of her children and would-be spouse outside, diminish the allure. She finds her path, however, and for the religiously-inclined or spiritually-interested reader, And Then There Were Nuns will prove informative and engaging; it is a humanizing look at people who seem to have an otherworldly existence.
“But then that’s the problem, isn’t it? We get older, we get no wiser, the wars of FDR and Truman turn into the wars of Kennedy and Nixon, the Gulf War of Bush I reappears as the Gulf War of Bush II, an we the people never do get together, except as atomized watchers of Desperate Housewives. We are, in the main, sitting fat and happy in what Robert Nisbet, in his splendid The Quest for Community, called ‘the heart of totalitarianism’: for we are ‘the masses; the vast aggregates who are never tortured, flogged, or imprisoned, or humiliated; who instead are cajoled, flattered, stimulated by the rulers; but who are nonetheless relentlessly destroyed as human beings, ground down into mere shells of humanity.’ The totalitarian, wrote Nisbet, seeks ‘the necessary destruction of all evidences of spontaneous, autonomous association,’ leaving us a mass of anchorless individuals whose wasted lives are lighted only by the hideous bluish glare of the TV set.
Hey, what’s on tonight?”
– Bill Kauffman, Look Homeward, America! In Search of Reactionary Radicals and Front Porch Anarchists p. 141
Dear readers:
When Elephants Weep: the Emotional Lives of Animals
© 1995 Jeffrey Masson and Susan McCarthy
291 pages
When Elephants Weep is enjoyable more as a reflection on animal behavior and than a sterling scientific enterprise, but enjoyable all the same.
Related:
Any work by Frans de Waal or Jane Goodall
Silent Thunder: Among the Elephants
Poor but Proud: Alabama’s Poor Whites
© 2001 Wayne Flynt
488 pages
Poverty, unlike politics, is color-blind; despite the association of US poverty with urban blacks or migrant workers, poverty is alive and well in ‘majority’ whites. Poor But Proud is a social history of Alabama’s working poor, beginning with the state’s early settlement and continuing onward through the 1980s, though the chief focus ends with the Great Depression. In addition to covering the primary occupations of the poor (farming, textile mills, timbering, and coal mines), Flynt addresses the political issues they raised, and explores poor white culture, particularly religion and folk traditions. He also gives special consideration to conditions like tenancy farming and milltown paternalism, probing the question of why they developed as they did. Flynt draws extensively on interviews with living witnesses as well as studies done by concerned sociologists and economic developers who viewed the impoverishment of the south and Alabama in particular as a national burden to be recitifed. Though derided as lazy, shiftless, and vulgar, the poor themselves did what they could to alleviate their circumstances, joining together in unions and driving the Democratic party toward more populism through the Grange movement.In other areas, like education, they were dependent on outside help; Episcopal missionaries served as teachers, but their structured and serene religion as quite different from the enthusiastic sects the poor embraced, like Pentecostalism. Race religions are touched on, expressed in conflict and cooperation, but not emphasized. Poor but Proud impresses with its heft; being weighty in detail, it’s a first class source for anyone interested in the lifestyle and occupation of the working poor in Alabama before the world wars. While not a drama-laden narrative, it doesn’t lose readability for substance. Flynt has authored similar works and is the editor-in-chief of the Encyclopedia of Alabama.
An Officer and a Spy
© 2013 Robert Harris
496 pages
In the late 19th century, the Dreyfuss Affair shook France when one Captain Alfred Dreyfuss, accused of selling French military secrets to the Germany General Staff. Declared guilty, publicly disgraced, and dramatically exiled, Dreyfuss’ name became a lightning rod of controversy. On trial, more than Dreyfuss himself, was the pride of the army and the Jewish question. Could a Jew be a loyal citizen of the Republic? An Officer and a Spy is a history of the affair in novel form, from the perspective of Colonel Marie-Georges Picquart, who observed the trial in its entirety and who, upon becoming an intelligence master, began to realize that something was amiss. Though Picquart begins as hostile to Dreyfuss, his investigation of ongoing security concerns reveals that not only is there a spy still operating within the General Staff, but the case against Dreyfuss was based on ‘evidence’ too flimsy to be respectable. When he attempts to call his superiors’ attention to this miscarriage of justice and take down the real spy, however, Pichquart becomes another target of an entrenched institution desperate to save face: the French army.
Robert Harris has displayed his strengths as a writer of fiction, with books as diverse as political thrillers set in ancient Rome to modern science-fiction thrillers set in financial markets. After books like The Fear Index and The Ghost, An Officer and a Spy is a return to the genre in which Harris proved his writing mettle: historical fiction. Its integration of source material and narrative is impressive, drawing extensively on Dreyfusses’ letters but never obtrusively. Trials are a mainstay here, as not only Dreyfuss but various suspects are dragged before courts-martial and forced to defend themselves. Picquart himself is never officially tried, but when his associates are he might as well be, for he is exiled to Africa and given a pointless and likely suicidal mission. Being a few years removed from my French history courses, I don’t know how the development of Picquart’s case aligns with reality, but it’s excellent fiction. I suspect Harris stays close to the facts, because certain characters, like the ‘real’ spy, aren’t as overblown as they might be in a purely fictional novel: the real spy isn’t particularly sinister, but in pure fiction he could have been developed as a mastermind. Because in reality he managed to stay hidden accidentally, the true villain of the piece is the French army’s distrust of Jews and their obsession with protecting themselves from additional controversy. Considering how rich in detail this book is about life during the ‘beautiful epoch’, before the great war, and about the craft of intelligence in particular, it’s an attractive historical piece while doubling as a fascinating political and legal thriller.