Category Archives: nonfiction

How to Be Okay When Nothing is Okay, by Jenny Lawson****

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Jenny Lawson is queen of the mental health memoir. I’ve read her for years and appreciated her candor, wit, and willingness to shine a light on the kinds of experiences that historically, others have mostly kept mum about. Her latest book, How to Be Okay When Nothing is Okay, is not her strongest work, but this says more about how remarkable her earlier books are than anything detrimental about this one.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Viking Penguin for the review copy.

I first encountered Lawson through her blog over a decade ago when she wrote about gifting her husband with a huge metal chicken sculpture. There’s something truly cleansing about laughter, not the gentle or wry type, but the gut-busting type that leaves us gasping for breath. I encountered this on subsequent occasions when she wrote in her quirky, sometimes bizarre way that was, at the same time, absolutely relatable and crystal clear. And I have to confess that I missed that quality this time around.

Instead, Lawson has written practical suggestions, ones that she has utilized herself, to help her get past stressful situations in which her mental health has threatened to melt her down. And in that sense, this book is more of a self-help book and perhaps less of a memoir. It may be tremendously useful to others encountering similar situations. I’ve been there; a great many others have, too. But right now, my own mental health is fine, and perhaps that accounts for some of the disconnect I experienced in reading this one. I suspect, however, that a whole lot of people will get a whole lot of help from this slender little book.

Recommended for those in a space where they need support and ideas for getting through a difficult time or situation.

Monsters in the Archives, by Caroline Bicks*****

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Monsters in the Archives: My Year of Fear with Stephen King is a masterpiece in its own right. Author Caroline Bicks was named as the first Stephen E. King Chair in Literature at the University of Maine, and she is the first person to be granted access to King’s personal archives. My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the review copy; this book is for sale now.

Bicks bases her book on five of King’s early novels: The Shining, Carrie, Pet Sematary, ‘Salem’s Lot, and Night Shift. Initially she was told that although King authorized this book and was willing for her to go through his archives, she must promise not to attempt to contact him or disturb him in any way. She agreed, then was given a great deal of his personal time and attention anyway. Though the book is of course primarily about King and his writing, she includes bits here and there that describe her own relationship to these stories. The result is a fluid, seamless book that appears effortless to have written, and yet must have been a massive amount of work. Her documentation is first rate, and the book itself is surprisingly brief, with not a single wasted word. Although it seems thorough, I was sorry when it ended.

I have long believed that King’s books are deeper and brainier than most scary novels, and I came away vindicated. Bicks is a Shakespeare scholar, and she had more specific insights than I did; turns out, as King confirms in one interview, that The Shining is actually Hamlet!

I had previously read that King isn’t fond of the movie versions of his most iconic works. In The Shining, poor direction transforms Jack Torrance, a tragic, pathetic figure fighting to stay sober and keep the demons at bay within himself—and losing—to a sinister slasher-type figure as portrayed by Jack Nicholson. That much is fairly obvious. His young son Danny should be portrayed as a hero, fearful though he is. But King also takes issue with the casting of Shelly Duvall, who whines and screeches at her husband in a way that King describes as a misogynistic interpretation. It’s a good point. Other books and movies are discussed as well.

There are too many fascinating margin comments, anecdotes, and explanations to recount here, but the one that has stuck with me over a month after I finished it is the note that King enclosed when he sent The Shining saying not to lose it as this was the only copy. Yikes!

When I saw that Bicks had also included some autobiographical bits, I cringed initially, thinking, oh please don’t make this about you. But the way she handles it is excellent, giving the reader some small insights into the narrator while keeping the focus primarily right where it belongs; it’s done tastefully and professionally. I learned a great deal within a small span of time, and also enjoyed it tremendously.

Highly recommended.

Vengeance, by Tom Clavin***

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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.

The Free and the Dead, by Jamie Holmes

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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.

True Crime, by Patricia Cornwell*****

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Legendary mystery writer Patricia Cornwell didn’t intend to write a memoir, but when someone decided to put her life’s story on television, she realized that if she didn’t write it, they’d make it up as they went. What began as a treatment for television writers to use as a guide morphed into a full-length book, and this is a perfect example of what an overachiever Cornwell has become.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Grand Central Publishing for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Cornwell grew up in Miami, but moved with her mother to Montreat, North Carolina following her parents’ separation when she was five years old. It’s a miracle that anyone whose childhood was so riddled with trauma could grow up and pass for normal, let alone accomplish the things that she has done. First, her father had a breakdown, kidnapped her and her brothers, and then tried to hand them off—permanently—to his law partner. Her mother was a hot mess most of the time, and so there were periods when there was no food prepared, and she and her brothers made do by scrounging raw hamburger out of the freezer and eating it raw! Then there was the time her mom went into a fugue state and began systematically burning all of the children’s clothing—and there was no money to replace it with. Neglected children are often a lightning rod that attracts bad actors, and so the local security cop began molesting her—up until he was caught by her older brother, who put a stop to it. And the list goes on.

Nobody walks away from such experiences unscarred, but since Cornell—who was then Patsy Daniels—was a good kid, she internalized all of it, aided by a dreadful first grade teacher that told her that her constant talking in class was probably why her father had left! (As a teacher, this reviewer wants to find that person and have her license pulled, although she is probably gone from this earth by now.) Patsy gained control of her life—sort of—by developing eating disorders. She was hospitalized, but medical science actually didn’t know what to do about anorexia or bulimia, and after months in the institution with no improvement whatever, she gave up and went home. The problem vanished many years later when other aspects of her life changed.

Her love of writing and her feverish work ethic are what has made her such a success (along with great intelligence, though she doesn’t say as much.) She rode with cops and served as a volunteer in order to gain insights into that world; she went to Quantico and studied profiling; and of course, worked in the medical examiner’s office so that she could legitimately view autopsies, which are of course not open to the public. Anything she needed to learn, she found a way to do, leaving no stone unturned. She was aided and mentored by what seems to me an unlikely cast of friends and surrogate parents, including Senator Orin Hatch, Ruth and Billy Graham (mostly Ruth,) and President H.W. Bush.

The thing I appreciate about this memoir, apart from its outstanding prose and organization, is Cornwell’s willingness to disclose personal information. Sometimes, when someone is deeply private but finds herself writing a memoir anyway, she will stay on the surface and give up as little of herself as possible. Such memoirs are frustrating to read and for those that pay money for the privilege, a bit of a cheat. But once Cornwell decided to do this thing, she really did it right. And while, on the one hand, there’s a certain amount of namedropping and braggadocio, even that aspect of it is interesting; given everything she went through to arrive at the station she’s gained in life, one can hardly begrudge her.

For those that love her books, and also for those that simply enjoy a well written memoir, this book is highly recommended.

Opera Wars, by Caitlin Vincent****

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Caitlin Vincent is a former opera singer and company owner, and so she’s in a good position to talk about its controversies. This compact little book carries a wealth of information for the interested layman. My thanks go to NetGalley and Scribner for the review copy; this book is for sale now.

Much of the book discusses, as advertised, the controversies surrounding opera. How much license can its companies, directors, etc. take with the original versions of the most canonical of operas? What if, instead of taking place in the expected setting, one was to stage the opera in outer space, or in a future world, or, or, or…? There’s no law that says it can’t be done, and sometimes it is. Yet those that take such liberties have to face the ravening hoards that take exception to such variations.

What about the new operas that aren’t famous yet? Remember, every opera was new at one point.

But the greatest controversy of all is that of race. Is it acceptable for a Caucasian singer to play Madame Butterfly, for example? Opera has long been the bastion of white musicians, and though there’s been a bit of progress, the number of performers of color is still quite small. So, if this part should be sung by an Asian woman, must she be Japanese, or Japanese-American? What if a Filipino woman wants the part and can sing it well? And then the other question: may performers of color play parts that traditionally go to white singers? A Japanese-American soprano is quoted as saying that while she is grateful for the number of times she’s been cast in that opera, at some point in her life she’d like to play a role other than Madame Butterfly!

At the tender age of 18, this reviewer wanted to become an opera singer; after less than two years in college I changed my mind. Reading this book made me thank my lucky stars that I did. Vincent explains exactly what is required of anyone that wants to pursue the dream, and though others had told me that it’s a difficult road made still more difficult when one doesn’t have financial backing or the right contacts, I had no idea just how grueling the path can be. I might have taken to the bath with a package of shiny razor blades had I gone down that road! Constant rejection; sexual harassment, even in the Me-Too era; poverty; lack of sleep from working day jobs, rehearsing and training, auditioning, and preparing to perform, should one be cast in even a tiny role are but a few of the demands this life exacts. Plane tickets to audition; plane tickets to reach the performance venue, sometimes overseas; suitable clothes for auditions; costly vocal coaching; these are among the expenses the performers are expected to meet, in addition to the ordinary expenses of room and board, transportation, and utilities.

And yet, are the artists exploited? Vincent points out that most opera companies operate on a shoestring, with the less famous ones closing at alarming rates. It’s not that someone at the top is leaching off the members of the company; in most cases, nobody is making much money. While a few principal artists are well paid and well known, those are the rare exceptions.

The narrative flows beautifully, and the hard facts are broken up with occasional humorous anecdotes.

Those interested in the world of opera but lacking much knowledge will benefit from the wealth of information packed into a relatively brief space here; the book is just over 300 pages, but nearly 40% of that is endnotes! I recommend this little gem to all that are curious.

Death in Mud Lick, by Eric Eyre*****

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The place is Kermit, West Virginia, population 382. Big pharma dumped millions of opioids here regularly with impunity—until this investigation was complete, anyway—causing deaths by the score. Death in Mud Lick tells how the tiny West Virginia Gazette and its stalwart journalist, Eric Eyre, blew the whistle on this outrageous practice and, in time, held the pharmaceutical firms responsible.

My thanks go to Scribner and NetGalley for the review copy. I’m years late, partially because I knew that this was going to be a grim tale. It’s for sale now, and though it is as grim as I feared, it’s also inspirational.

Kermit had just one pharmacy, but that was all it took. The parking lot was always jammed with cars from out of state; vehicles poured in from South Carolina, Ohio, Kentucky, and Virginia, among others. There was free popcorn for waiting customers, and patrons who picked up prescriptions sometimes strolled out of the shop and went directly to someone else’s car, where they would hand over the bag of pills and collect money. Nobody was held accountable, and in fact, opioids served as a local currency. You could buy gas with opioids; you could use them to tip your waiter. Nobody batted an eye.

Given these statistics, how was it that nobody was ever busted for this? Perhaps it was such an integral part of the local economy that it was accepted; then again, there were real doctors writing these prescriptions, and they were ridiculously easy to get.

Eyre won the Pulitzer for his coverage of this crisis. He continued his investigation even after he received a diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease, though it slowed him down some, inevitably. His narrative reads almost like a thriller, and all of us owe him a great deal. There are still plenty of addicts out there, sadly—you probably know at least one, and I certainly do—but the trajectory has been checked, and it’s all because of the free press.

I highly recommend this book to you. Thanks, Eric.

Valcour, by Jack Kelly****

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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, by Rhodri Jeffrey-Jones****

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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!

The Next One is for You, by Ali Watkins****

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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.