Tom Clavin is the co-author of Blood and Treasure: Daniel Boone and the Fight for America’s First Frontier. I learned a great deal from that book, and decided that I was going to read everything this author writes. Although he does a creditable reporting job with his new book, Vengeance, which details the last battles of Custer, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull, it lacks the luster of his Boone biography. Nevertheless, my thanks go to NetGalley, St. Martin’s Press, and Macmillan Audio for the review copies. This book is available to purchase now.
My motivation in reading this book was in knowing that for once, Custer wouldn’t defeat the Native forces he sought to annihilate. Had I thought a little harder, I would have realized that the American Indians never came out on top in the long run, and that a hard-fought battle in which Custer is killed—primarily through his own stupidity—was not going to end well for anybody. Nevertheless, I came away feeling that this story was both duller and also more depressing than was necessary.
The facts that are used here, as well as the documentation for them, are beyond reproach. The point of view, however, leans more toward the U.S. Army than the tribes and their leaders. It would have been nice to have present day Native historians weigh in and be heard more. Also, when a hard, horrible tale must be told, a truly skilled author can find ways to break up the horror. My sense is that Clavin didn’t really try.
Johnny Heller narrated the audio version, and he did a fine job of it. Without his narrative, I might not have finished it.
For those looking for the basic facts of this conflict and its aftermath, Vengeance will serve well. For those in search of a general historical read, I’d look elsewhere.
Author Jamie Holmes has written a history of the Seminole Wars, and since I had long intended to read a bit more about the Seminole tribe, I dove in. My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria Books for the review copy; this book is for sale now.
Generally speaking, reading about the depredations of the U.S. and local governments upon Native tribes is demoralizing, depressing, and on occasion, guilt-inducing. After a certain amount of it, I turned ostrich and decided I wouldn’t do it anymore. But I was aware that of all the tribes in what is now the U.S.A., the Seminoles were the only ones that had never been entirely dislodged from their original homes. This is what made me want to read this particular history, the knowledge that in the end, the Seminoles would not be completely vanquished.
The operative word there is “completely.” Yikes! There’s still plenty of gore, death, and heartbreak, as I would have recognized from the title had I been more attentive. Here’s one of the more searing samples, which deals with the death of a Seminole leader named Osceola following the conclusion of the war:
“Before he passed, he asked the physician a favor. He wished to be buried in the Florida Territory, at a site where his bones would not be disturbed. The surgeon, finding himself alone with the body, cut off Osceola’s head as a personal keepsake, took it home, and embalmed it. Later, the doctor would hang the head on his children’s bedstead, as punishment for misbehaving.”
Holmes does find ways to break up the horror occasionally with irony and humor, usually at the expense of the tribe’s would-be conquerors, but at the same time, he’s writing nonfiction, and he can’t make this thing any prettier than the truth. A whole lot of Seminoles died, either from battle, disease—so much disease! —or while imprisoned. The consolation, if there can be any, is in knowing that they took a whole lot of U.S. fighters with them. The U.S. government, led by President Andrew Jackson, whom I believe is remembered far more positively than is deserved, spent a wildly disproportionate amount of its funds while attempting to dislodge the tribes, but the Seminoles had a way of vanishing into the Everglades, a place they knew infinitely better than the invaders. And this is one more thing I appreciate about Holmes’s narrative: he tells the stories of individual Seminole leaders, and includes as much information about Natives as he does about the Caucasian interlopers.
This work was published last winter, so I am terribly late with my review; I had to take it in small amounts in order to get through it. However, it is very well researched and its documentation is excellent, and Holmes is a writer of formidable ability. To those with the fortitude and interest, this book is highly recommended.
I would follow Jess Kidd anywhere! Murder at the Spirit Lounge is her sixth release in the U.S., and the second book in the Nora Breen series. My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria Books for the invitation to read and review; this engaging little mystery will be available to the North American public on June 16, 2026.
The time period is the late 1940s. We join Nora, a former nun who left the convent in order to find the whereabouts of the young nun that she mentored, and who had then left the order and disappeared. Her mission accomplished, Nora is still living in the rooming house, a cheap place that has terrible food and a grouchy proprietor, in a little seaside village called Gore-On-Sea. Nora left the convent with very little money and few possessions, and now she has even less money. In search of work, she finds a position at the local newspaper, working for an editor named Miss Hartigan:
Nora, having braved the smell of damp and mice to climb the narrow stairs of the Herald offices, finds the editor hunched over her ancient typewriter like a toad with a fly. Surrounded by empty booze bottles, stacks of back-copies. She turns a bull’s eye on Nora, who is reminded, curiously, of her former mother superior at High Dallow monastery. Perhaps it’s the same air of combative ruthlessness. Neither woman, in Nora’s estimation, would suffer fools gladly.
But Breen is soon sidetracked by a murder that occurs during a séance at the Spirit Lounge, and the medium is the victim—that is, the first victim. Since Nora has trained and worked as a nurse during her earlier life, she is summoned to the scene, and soon we’re off on another investigation. Inspector Rideout, the local man in charge of law enforcement, appears to be on the killer’s list, and as he and Nora have formed a warm friendship, she cannot allow that to happen!
Jess Kidd’s voice shines through here, and I love it. I would have liked to see more of the wit she’s displayed in some of her other novels, because she’s made me laugh out loud, but instead, we see greater depth of character development, and that’s crucial, particularly in a series. I wholeheartedly recommend this book, and this series, to those that love the genre. It can certainly be read as a stand-alone mystery, but once you’ve done that, you’ll want to scoop up the first as well.
Kayla Rae Whitaker is the author of The Animators, her 2017 debut which remains one of my favorites after 13 years and over a thousand reviews. Now she has returned with Returns and Exchanges, a more complex, ambitious novel, yet written with the same mastery of the language and the heart. My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the review copy; this book is for sale now.
Our story is set in Kentucky and begins on Christmas Eve in 1979. We have a hardworking family that owns and runs a good-sized store; think of something like a mom-and-pop version of Target. The Baker-Taylor store is hopping on Christmas Eve. The owners, Fred Taylor and Fran Taylor, nee Baker, are frazzled but satisfied. The two older sons are working registers; the two little kids are playing in the stockroom. They close up, clean up, and leave to celebrate the holiday.
During the recession of the 1980s they do well; theirs is an unpretentious business that bargain hunters love. As they succeed, they expand, and soon Fred is full of himself, trying to fit in with the local movers and shakers. He joins a rightwing fraternal organization and lives to impress. Fran, on the other hand, is doing most of the work. She knows what money is coming in, what’s going out; which stores are doing well, which are struggling. She is not trying to impress anyone, but falls hard for an employee named Wendy.
Nobody expected this!
And so the beginning of the book focuses primarily on Fran, and I begin to see her as the protagonist, but this is one of those epic family tales, and so as time moves forward, we begin to see different points of view. The elder sons begin to hate the business. It prevents the children from having social lives, and Fred is hard to please. Josiah, the eldest, decides to leave for college, and Baker-Taylor stores don’t loom large in his future plans. Sam, the second youngest, is an artist, and he suffers from mental health issues that Fred cannot accept. Fred thinks Sam is weak, and he doesn’t make the family or the business look good in the public eye. The two young children, Benny and Birdie, grow up largely cared for by others, because their parents are always working (or with Wendy.)
In many ways, it’s like watching a traffic accident in slow motion. I’m leaning forward, as if I might climb into the book itself and shout warnings.
The nearest thing we have to an objective observer is Fran’s brother-in-law, Jack. Jack is gay, but he keeps it quiet and hidden, and so does his loving, understanding wife. He catches onto the changes occurring within the family, including between Fran and Wendy. He tells Josiah privately,
Were your father to find out, God help us, it might break him. But it also might do something else…he’s running with a different crowd now. It’s made him a little rougher. But that’s not my big concern. It’s the board. It’s the shareholders. People who see all the fun family commercials. Do I have to elaborate on what could happen to her if folks caught wind of this?
Truer words were never spoken.
But the most critical aspect of this story, with all of its moving parts, is the way the characters are built. I feel as if I know them all deeply. Fred is the least developed character here, but I know that’s because not that much inward development happens when you’re shallow and not as smart as the rest of the family. And hopefully, that statement reveals how effective the alchemy is here: I’m not thinking about what Whitaker does with the characters. I’m thinking of the characters themselves, as if I might walk around the corner and bump into one of them.
Of course I won’t tell you how it ends, but it feels right to me, strangely satisfying.
For those that love epic family stories with deep, layered characters, this book is highly recommended. It’s one of the year’s best.
There’s so much buzz about the debut novel Yesteryear, by Caro Claire Burke, and it’s easy to see why. When a wife and mother decides to make bank off of being a tradwife, except that she really isn’t, the irony is thick and darkly funny. I was immediately absorbed by this story, and I have lots of company.
My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the review copy. This book is for sale now.
Natalie doesn’t fit in well or make friends easily, but when she meets Caleb, she thinks she’s found a man that wants the same things she wants. Caleb comes from a wealthy family; his father has presidential ambitions. He buys them a farm in Idaho, and she promises to bear lots of little grandchildren and keep her man happy and out of trouble.
While she doesn’t connect well with new friends in person, the magic of Instagram changes everything! She posts photos of her darling family, the big red barn, the cow and the chickens, and she creates videos of herself making bread in the kitchen. But this is difficult to do when there are children to take care of, so she hires nannies. She hires a producer to help create her content; her children are home schooled, alright, but not by Natalie. And behind the wall of her kitchen, there are commercial quality appliances that grease the wheels of her production; the tradwife is not what she seems.
She hardly knows her own children. And underneath the Instagram smiles and the aphorisms about gratitude, she is every bit as angry as the feminists that decry her platitudes.
Then comes the day when she wakes up and finds that she’s living in the 1800s. Her farmhouse really is an old school farm house. There’s no central heating, only chopped wood for burning. There is no electricity or washing machine. Life is hard, and so is her husband. “A lifetime of drowning, and then you are dead.”
I could hardly stand to put this thing down; I had to know how it would end. Unfortunately, the ending is not as smooth or well-paced as the rest of the book, and I didn’t find it as satisfying. Still, this is a great read, and I recommend it to you.
The Hired Man is the newest novel by badass writer Sandra Dallas. This work of historical fiction is set in Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl, and our protagonist is Martha Helen, a teenager whose family decides to take in a drifter after he saves a local boy during a dust storm.
My thanks go to NetGalley and Macmillan Audio for the review copy. This book is for sale now.
Martha Helen’s tiny rural community is hard pressed. The year is 1937, and even without the dust storms that cause crop failures across the prairie, times would be lean. Small luxuries that were once taken for granted are now saved for special occasions, at least for the fortunate, and have disappeared for many unlucky families. Domestic abuse is on the rise, as is alcoholism. And so, when Otis Hobbs, a drifter searching for work, saves a small child that went missing during a terrible storm, Martha Helen’s grateful mother insists that he be allowed to stay. Local law says that newcomers must move on if not employed, so Martha Helen’s family hires Otis to help on the farm in exchange for room and meals; he lives in a dugout on their property and eats with the family.
Their neighbors don’t like it! Though there are a handful of supportive townspeople, most have deep seated fear and loathing toward “tramps,” as men that wander in search of work were known. Rumors abound. Any small thing that goes wrong is immediately chalked up to Otis. And when Martha Helen’s best friend Frankie is found raped, murdered, and dumped, out come the pitchforks, the tar, the feathers.
Author Sandra Dallas is an established writer, but I had only read one of her novels prior to this one, which is impressive. Every stereotype and trope is deftly avoided, and the result is a highly engaging narrative, told in the first person, with characters that are nearly corporeal. I thought I knew how this story would end; I did not. Oftentimes when an author decides to end a book with an unexpected twist, they have to contort the plot in awkward ways in order to shoehorn in their surprise ending. That’s not so here. The ending is a complete surprise to me, and the twist at the end leaves me with my mouth hanging open with astonishment. What…? But, how could….oh. Yeah. It totally works!
This is one of the rare times I have only the audio galley, and since I am primarily text oriented, that’s often a dicey proposition, but for once, it worked out beautifully. The plot is linear, and between that and the great skill of narrator Jesse Vilinsky, I always understand what’s happening.
Highly recommended to those that love the genre, particularly women.
The Creek, the Crone, and the Crow is the newest novel by Leah Weiss, author of If the Creek Don’t Rise and All the Little Hopes. It’s her best one yet. My thanks go to NetGalley and Sourcebooks Landmark for the review copy; this book is for sale now.
Kate is a teacher, and she’s spent ten years as the sole instructor in one of the last one room schoolhouses, located in the tiny Appalachian hamlet of Baines Creek. But they say bad things come in threes, and that is certainly true for the people of Baines Creek, and for Kate as well. First, people from the state sweep in and declare that the schoolhouse must close and its pupils be bussed to a larger school. This is devastating, because locals use a folk dialect that will get them teased by more worldly children that are integrated into the larger society. These kids learn differently, and most parents are so afraid of what will happen that they resolve not to send their children anywhere at all. School’s out…period.
Next, Birdie, the elderly healer and wise woman of Baines Creek dies, leaving all of the homemade books she’s created for decades to Kate. Kate is bewildered. Why her? What to do with them? And Birdie was such a key part of the village that her loss is felt keenly.
And then little Loretty, a child that was being instructed by Birdie, and who is believed to have the same second sight that Birdie had, goes missing. She’s so young, and no one has any idea where she may have gone. Search parties are organized almost continuously, but there’s not even a clue where she may be.
Our second main character, Lydia, is a psychic whose gift vanished when her parents died. She travels to Baines Creek in search of Birdie, who she believes may be able to help her regain her gift. But first Birdie refuses to see her, merely saying that it isn’t time yet; then Birdie dies! However, Lydia’s presence is fortuitous, because she has ideas about all of those handmade books, and so she and Kate work together.
This is a wonderful story, the sort to sink into and lose oneself. For me, the only distraction has to do with setting. For the longest time I am unable to understand what time period we’re In here. Cell phones and personal computers, no; microwave ovens, yes. And Lydia’s niece comes to visit, and she’s described as a Goth, so that makes me think of the late 1980’s or early 1990’s. But then it’s revealed about halfway in that it’s 1978. What? There were no Goths in 1978. Fearing that perhaps my memory is betraying me, I look it up, and nope. Goth culture began in the UK in the early 80s, and it spread to the U.S. a bit later. I harrumph and move on.
The setting of Baines Creek is gloriously resonant, and indeed, all of Weiss’s books have been set in Appalachia. There are underground tunnels and moonshiners’ caves, and I won’t give details that would spoil, but there are a couple of caves in particular that are important to the story and tremendously memorable. The ending, which is always important, but more so in a story like this one, is pitch perfect. Highly recommended.
Valcour is the story of an audacious battle at sea during the American Revolution. It took place at the same time as George Washington’s attack at Trenton and was led by General Philip Schuyler, (former British officer) Horatio Gates; and a capable sea captain named Benedict Arnold. It was the name of the latter that drew my attention, given the ignominy with which his name has been associated in U.S. history and culture.
My thanks go to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the invitation to read and review. Perhaps they would have asked someone else had they known I’d be five years late, but I’m reviewing it now.
It’s a brave, almost foolhardy notion for the Colonies to declare independence from Great Britain, which at the time was unquestionably the greatest military power on the planet; but to fight on the water, facing down the British Navy, seems almost like a death wish. The Patriots—as those seeking independence were called—knew the area far better than the British did, but that, and their motivation, were really the only true advantages they had. And to be clear, they didn’t actually win the three-day Battle of Valcour, but sometimes it’s enough to hold one’s own and avoid annihilation, and that’s what they did.
Arnold was a brave man, as well as gifted and at the time, heroic. I had never read anything by Jack Kelly before this, and as the narrative continued to wax enthusiastically about the deeds and ideas of Benedict Arnold, I wondered, for a time, whether this book was something that was commissioned by Arnold’s descendants with the goal of rehabilitating his image. But at the end, I realized that it was not.
Arnold was a brilliant strategist, and he suffered mightily, as did all involved, during the periods of deprivation this campaign brought about. There were times when they had no ammunition; there were other times when they had limited supplies, but no food. Imagine being reduced to eating soap, which back then was made using lard! The weather, the illness—which killed more of them than combat did—and more than a year spent away from their families must have been demoralizing; yet they never surrendered, and ultimately saw independence.
So, why then, at the very end, did Arnold turn around and betray his fellow fighters to the enemy? It’s a small thing, and though the years and circumstances are different, it reminds me of the motivation of the secret source that betrayed the Nixon administration during the Watergate scandal. Both Arnold and Deep Throat were bitter men that were passed over for promotions that they expected, and had every right to expect. On February 19, Congress promoted five servicemen to the rank of major general, which was the highest rank apart from that of George Washington. Washington himself wrote to Arnold and said, “I was surprised when I did not see your name in the list of major generals.” Furthermore, this was no oversight; it was a snub dealt by small minded men playing politics. Rather than be placed subordinate to men that he had previously commanded, Arnold resigned. What else was he supposed to do? But rather than leave it there, he took one step further, and that step was betrayal.
Kelly is a capable writer, and his research passes the sniff test. Because I had delayed for so long, I checked out the audio book from Seattle Bibliocommons to accompany and speed my way through the digital review copy I’d been given. Narrator David Colacci does a fine job.
I recommend this book to those interested in the American Revolution.
Allan Pinkerton invented the private detective agency, and he has gone down in history as a violent, sinister figure, a breaker of strikes, a spy for the Confederacy. When I saw this biography, I responded immediately. My thanks go to NetGalley and Tantor Media for the review copy. This book is available to the public now.
And here is where I must tell you to take my review with a grain of salt. I read less than a third of this nifty little nugget before it vanished forever; the fault was my own for failing to download it. I nearly never forget to do so, but this book caught me when I was distracted by other, nonliterary things, and I flaked. How disappointing! So I probably shouldn’t even review it, given that I don’t know what the middle or end looks like, but I was rather taken with it, and despite my background in U.S. history, I learned some things from it. If I had access to a copy right now, I’d finish it.
Instead, here’s what I will suggest: if you are considering reading this book because you enjoy biographies in general, and if you’ll have to pay full price to get it, do some more research first. There was the occasional dry passage in what I read, and I don’t know whether that part gets better or worse. However, if you have a specific interest in U.S. history during the American Civil War, or if you have a strong interest in American labor history, as I do, then I recommend this book to you without reservation. It comes in print, digital, and audio formats, but I only had access to the audio; the reader does a fine job. And when you get it, be sure to download it!
One of the most hotly contested political issues for English speaking people during the 1970s and 1980s was the battle taking place in the North of Ireland between its original inhabitants and the British government. This reviewer was deeply interested in the conflict while it took place, and so when I saw this book, The Next One is for You: A True Story of Guns, Country, and the IRA’s Secret Army, by Ali Watkins,my heart began to pound before I’d read a single page. My thanks go to NetGalley and Little, Brown and Company for the review copy. This book is for sale now.
The fight between the working-class citizens of Belfast and the middle-class Protestants, who worked hand in glove with the British Crown, has roots that are centuries deep. Watkins reviews these without going into the weeds, and leads us up to modern times succinctly. I appreciate her fair discussion of the manner in which the Irish Republican Army, or IRA, developed and burgeoned. (U.S. readers new to the topic should know that ‘Republican’ was part of the name due to a desire for the Irish Northern counties to be restored to the Republic of Ireland, not because of any political similarities to the Republican party in the U.S.A.) Initially the movement was modeled on the Civil Rights Movement of the United States, with large, peaceful marches; there were signs, songs and speeches given. People packed lunches and took their children with them. But these protests were violently repulsed, with police and the military surrounding the participants so that there was no escape, and then shooting them like wooden ducks in an arcade.
Poverty was widespread in Belfast and its surrounding areas, with few jobs, and miserable living conditions in government subsidized apartments. “A Catholic surname got you passed over for jobs, if you even got the chance to apply.” There was no Bill of Rights, and when armed forces chose to search someone’s home, they announced themselves by kicking the door in. The situation was intolerable. And so, when peaceful protest was no longer possible, there were two choices remaining: armed struggle or defeat. “The goal: to expel the British from Northern Ireland, whatever the cost.”
Because such a large portion of the U.S. population is of Irish descent, these circumstances were of great interest in America. When the IRA broke off from the more traditional, less militant (and ineffective) organization that already existed, it wasn’t long before many Americans wanted to help in some way. Two organizations developed in the States, and this is much of what Watkins discusses. Clan na Gael was an Irish solidarity organization that had existed in the U.S. since 1867. It became an important element in the Irish struggle, organizing politically, and raising funds. But in order to gain widespread appeal, there needed to be an additional organization that existed for those that wanted to contribute financially to the poor of Belfast without also supporting the armed fight. In 1969, NORAID was born.
A disclosure: this reviewer was a great supporter of both organizations during that time. In fact, I once won a raffle from the Clan, which netted me a wheelbarrow of whiskey! Since I don’t drink, I took one bottle for my spouse and donated the rest back to the Clan. I never joined the Clan, primarily because I wasn’t asked.
Watkins discusses the history of both organizations as well as the key individuals that brought them about. She does a magnificent job and brings a treasure trove of outstanding documentation, right up until nearly the end of the book, at which point she inexplicably lapses into the journo-speak of the period, blathering about “senseless violence” in an abrupt shift that made my jaw drop. She had already explained, very capably, just why a nonviolent struggle was completely impossible. The devastating numbers of Irish youth that died during this campaign is indeed heartbreaking, but at the same time, just what else were they supposed to do? No foreign government was even remotely interested in assisting them; the British government was a key ally of the U.S. government, and had something of a headlock on its protectorates. And while I respect that the author had to conclude the book in one way or another, just admitting that there was no clear solution would have been vastly better than parroting American mainstream media of the time period. What the what?
Nevertheless, those with an interest in this struggle should get this book and read it. Just bear the ending with a grain of salt.
Seattle Book Mama 