My Name is Barbra, by Barbra Streisand*****

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As I came of age in the late 1970s, Barbra Streisand was a tremendous star, and when it came to movies in which she sang, she was peerless. She still is. I was starstruck by her brilliance, her charisma, and her astounding voice, and even so, I didn’t know the half of it. She wouldn’t accept glass ceilings, and when she encountered one, she kicked it in, and she did it with style.

Once her place in the industry was established, Barbra tried to erect a few boundaries around her private life, but it wasn’t easy; when she declined interviews whose focus was her relationships with men, some members of the press chose instead to portray her in an unfriendly light. And some people were threatened by her. A woman director? A woman producer? Who did she think she was, anyway? And she showed them who, sometimes wearing multiple hats in a given film, directing and acting, or…well, you get the idea. And thanks to the resistance she encountered, she grew to be a fierce feminist activist as well.

The autobiography is done in linear form, which I appreciate. I chose not to request the galley, because the book exceeds 1000 pages, and I’d have had only a month till it was published. Instead, I put it on my Christmas list, and Santa delivered it both in print and audio. Both are wonderful, but the audio is read by the author, which makes it my favorite. One more thing I greatly appreciate: when she discusses her music, we get to hear a brief, seconds-long excerpt. A pet peeve of mine is when song lyrics are spoken on audio books, and it is triply aggravating when the book in question is written by and read by the musician that made it famous. I’m sure there are hoops that must be jumped through to be allowed to include these snatches of song, but I know it can be done, because Barbra did it.

We begin with her childhood, the loss of her father, the unavailability of her mother, and I marvel that she grew up to be a good person, and that she nevertheless found the inner strength and confidence to pursue a career as a performer.

A good person? How would I know? We’ve never met. Surely authors do their damnedest to shine the light on their better qualities when they scribe their memoirs. But ultimately, it’s the way that Barbra’s own character makes its way into her productions that convinces me. She has no use for pretension, for one thing, even after the millions she’s made (and given away a lot of.) And she’s spent decades as an activist, using her talents to raise funds for AIDS research, to combat climate change, and to promote women’s equal treatment.

One word about that: there are long passages, at least one whole chapter and parts of others, where she discusses her causes and the politicians she admires, and I must confess that her adoration of various Democratic politicians is my least favorite part of the book. I actually lean further left than she does, and as she gushes over the Clintons, I find myself arguing a bit with her in my head. Sure, Bill Clinton did A and B as president, but he also did C and D, which are dreadful. And so on. Ultimately, I skipped to the end of one such chapter, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the book just fine.

I was fascinated by her explanation of why The Way We Were, one of her massively successful movies, is curiously devoid of politics, even though that is the point of the movie. She tells us that there was a lot of excellent content that landed on the cutting room floor. Nixon’s people had leaned hard on the studio not to disparage the McCarthy witch hunt, for example, and they folded. Happily, Streisand thought to ask if she might keep the portions that were cut, and a new version is being published for its 50th anniversary, so that we can see what it was supposed to look like. And it was this travesty, the way the original film was butchered without her input or consent, that made her determined to direct, and not to make any more movies unless she could have the final cut in her contract.

In her old age—she is in her eighties now—she is willing to talk about her private life in ways she would not do earlier, and she finds just the right level of intimacy to describe it. She speaks well of most of her past loves and many, many fellow performers, and has met and spent time with just about every public figure you can imagine. At one point I challenge myself to think of someone famous that isn’t in her book. Ha, I’ve got it! Nelson Mandela. Then I flip through the vast trove of photographs at the end of the book, and there she is with him.

Her harsh words are very few, and even so, she can often find some positive words to round out her discussion. Sidney Chaplin, son of Charlie, was monstrous, and he terrorized her just as her career was taking wing. Her longtime boyfriend, the hairdresser-turned-producer, Jon Peters, is the other major entrant on her unhappy list, but she recognizes the good things that he did, too, and the fact that he—and every one of her exes—sends her flowers on her birthday says it all.

I could go on even longer about this book, but it won’t be as fun for you as if you get the book for yourself, and I want to go back and re-watch her movies, especially Yentl. As for you, this audio book could make your daily commute much more enjoyable. Highly recommended.  

Phantom Orbit, by David Ignatius****

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“When we know a secret that could have devastating consequences, what should we do?”

David Ignatius writes spy thrillers, and is one of the most reliable authors I’ve read within that genre. I can always count on an absorbing read. Phantom Orbit centers on Ivan Volkov, a young man from Russia that goes to Beijing to study science, and an American CIA officer named Edith Ryan. They come together and then part, because while their interests and personalities draw them together, their obligations to the lands of their births pull them apart.

My thanks go to NetGalley and W.W. Norton and Company for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Our chief protagonist, Ivan, is courted by the Chinese, who want to recruit him and his brilliant mind to their space program, but he is summoned home when his mother becomes ill, and once he is there, he comes under intense pressure to remain in Russia. Later, once he has lost almost everything, he finds a chance for redemption.

Edith, on the other hand, is faced with every possible glass ceiling and endless sexism in her work, and nobody will take her ideas seriously. Eventually she gives up on the Agency and returns to civilian life in the States.

This story grabbed my attention from the get go and held it all the way through. I wasn’t able to guess what the resolution would be.

That said, this also isn’t the best he’s written. For those new to this author, I recommend The Quantum Spy. For Ignatius’s faithful readers, and for those fond enough of espionage thrillers to want more than one such novel, this book is recommended.

Tell Me Everything, by Elizabeth Strout*****

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“Lucy said, ‘So what is the point of this story?’

“Olive laughed. She really laughed at that. ‘Lucy Barton, the stories you told me—as far as I could tell—had very little point to them. Okay, okay, maybe they had subtle points to them. I don’t know what the point is to this story!’

“’People,’ Lucy said quietly, leaning back. ‘People and the lives they lead. That’s the point.’

“’Exactly,’ Olive nodded.”

Elizabeth Strout’s fifth entry into her Amgash series, Tell Me Everything, feels like a homecoming of sorts, as she integrates the main characters from all of her earlier novels, or most of them anyway, into a single volume. Lucy Barton, Olive Kitteridge, the Burgess Boys—both of them! It’s a wonderful thing to put them, or some of them, together in the same room for a conversation, or have two of them become friends and take walks together. It’s a lot of fun for her readers, and it was probably a lot of fun to write, too.

My thanks go to Random House and NetGalley for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

As is true with most books by Strout, the book isn’t—as the quote above suggests—so much about events as it is about the characters that live them. Publicists can call this a murder mystery if they want to, but if you are a new reader and you believe them, you will be disappointed, because the mystery is almost incidental to the story as a whole. The man under suspicion is living his life, and we read about him; the fact that his mother died under suspicious circumstances isn’t nearly as important as the life this poor fellow has been living. Meanwhile, there are a number of other plot threads that are just as important, and most of them have nothing to do with him or his family.

In fact, if I were to draw a theme from this story, it would perhaps be friendship; you might also make a case for fear. For example, Lucy tells Bob Burgess on one of their walks that “none of us are on sturdy soil, we just tell ourselves we are.” And then “when Bob thought about the state of the country these days, he sometimes had the image of a huge tractor trailer rumbling down the highway and the wheels, one by one, falling off.”

This is an easy theme to relate to; much of the polarization of the United States right now has to do with two main ideological camps, and a few smaller ones, being utterly terrified of what will happen next if the wrong people come to power; of course, opinions vary on exactly who the wrong ones are.

Nevertheless, I don’t see that as the main theme. The earliest Amgash books absolutely oozed anxiety. I felt as if I needed to take something before I read them, they were so fearful in their essences. But this story isn’t like that. Here, there’s a sense of acceptance, and also a sense that friendships, and the people inside of those friendships, can help one another.

So despite the mystery thread, this is what Lucy and Olive say that their stories are about: people and their lives.  It follows that those of us that have loved the earlier volumes will love this one even more, because Strout is doing what she does best: she sculpts characters so visceral that I feel I would know them if I passed by them in the grocery store.

Can you read this one as a stand-alone? Well, sure you can. I won’t try to stop you. But your experience will be richer and more satisfying if you treat yourself to some of the earlier stories. Some of them are rough reads, and I myself haven’t read everything this author has written, but if you grab a couple of them at least, particularly the Amgash and Olive books, you’ll appreciate this one more.

Highly recommended to all that cherish outstanding literary fiction.

Let Us Descend, by Jesmyn Ward*****

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Reading Jesmyn Ward always hurts so good. In Let Us Descend, she conveys the heartbreak and sense of betrayal a young girl, Annis, faces when she and her mother are sold separately by their owner—who is also her father–and the ways that she copes, and also the ways she is helped by the spirits of her ancestors.

My thanks go to Scribner and Net Galley for the invitation to read and review. I’m sorry to be so late here, and am grateful that the literary world has recognized this book for the masterpiece that it is.

You may have seen other reviews in which I complain and gnash my teeth over historical inaccuracies; sometimes I rant over an author’s failure to portray a child in a way that is developmentally inaccurate. There will be none of that here. Ward has taken the time and done the research, and so her well crafted characters aren’t compromised by sloppy background details. I had to take this story in small bites because it is excruciatingly sorrowful.  For part of it I listened to the audio version; this is a treat in itself, as Ward reads her own novel.

Some reviewers have taken issue with the amount of magical realism Ward employs. I disagree with them. How can any novelist portray such a story and such a character as Annis with any glimmer of hope, unless they employ these literary devices? Does anyone really want to read a book that is miserable at the outset, miserable in the middle, and miserable even at its bitter, wretched conclusion? Without hope, there’s not much incentive to keep reading, nor would it have been satisfying to write; but Ward will not and does not revise history simply to make her readers more comfortable. There was only one way to tell this story and be true to history and her characters, and Ward found it.

Yes, it’s a rough read, but it’s so well written that many readers must have smiled through their tears. Know that, of necessity, this story is absolutely loaded with triggers; assuming that you can navigate them without coming undone, I highly recommend this story to you.

That Librarian, by Amanda Jones****

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If ever a clarion call were needed in defense of the First Amendment in general and libraries in particular, that time would be now. Amanda Jones is an educator in a small Louisiana town, where she has lived all of her life. When a censorship battle presented itself, primarily at the behest of organized outsiders with an agenda, she turned up and spoke in a public meeting; in doing so, she unwittingly entered the most chilling chamber of horrors one might imagine.

My thanks go to Bloomsbury and Net Galley for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Amanda describes herself as a committed Christian and a political moderate; she blushingly confesses to have voted for Trump in 2016. How could a Southern Baptist teacher and librarian suddenly find herself at the heart of a maelstrom, being referred to online as a pedophile, a groomer, and a member of the “woke” left? In a place in which outsiders hold less credibility than those with longstanding roots, how could so many native residents be convinced that pornography is being peddled to children by one of their own? Of course, the only way to create such an atmosphere is through fear and convincing lies.

“Book censors will often say there are books containing pornographic, or sexually explicit, material in children’s sections of the library to rile up public fear. They decry the need to protect children from the evil smut they say is next to Dr. Seuss books. As if a kid could be looking for The Very Hungry Caterpillar and whoops, there’s The Joy of Sex or The Kama Sutra right next to it. That’s never the case. Libraries have collection development policies for ordering books, and appropriate books are placed in the appropriate section. Public libraries do not purchase pornography. Adult books are not in the library’s children section, and to suggest otherwise is ridiculous.”

The American Library Association has guidelines for challenging books. This is essentially what Amanda tells those in attendance at the meeting called by book burners that evening. She is one of more than twenty other locals that show up for the same purpose.

What occurs at this meeting turns out to be a formula frequently used by the extreme right. A page of alarming material is blown up on a big screen for attendees to see. The presenter explains that this very book was found in an area easily accessed by children, right here in the public library in Livingston Parish. It’s a lie. The book isn’t there at all. But most people are decent and tell the truth most of the time; it doesn’t occur to audience members that this is a complete fabrication.

Why Amanda was chosen by these sinister visitors to be the sacrificial lamb is anyone’s guess. Perhaps she is more persuasive than others, or better organized in her remarks. Who knows? By the following day, social media has blown up with vile, horrifying accusations against her. Worst of all, there are people that she has known all of her life and considered friends, that add approving reactions to these poisonous lies. People she always believed would stand up for her, disappear instead, or join the opposition. Her family, her closest friends, and her fellow librarians across the country are the core of her defense, which eventually finds its way into the courtroom. Fellow educators at work? Not so much.

Although this takes place in the deep South, Amanda points out that these challenges are taking place across the country, with the ultimate goal of defunding public libraries. She mentioned a challenge in my hometown, Seattle, Washington, and I gasped. And so, this is an issue that must be monitored, and libraries and free speech defended, by all liberty loving readers everywhere.

The first half of the book is beautifully organized and compelling. I believe my jaw dropped when she wrote of sleeping with a shotgun under her bed, and checking for bombs or tracking devices on the undercarriage of her car. Death threats? Oh honey. Yes. The second half is also good, but could probably use a bit of tightening up. However, were I in her shoes, I would no doubt ramble endlessly.

This would make a terrific movie, and if well done, would certainly deliver the message to still more people.

I wholeheartedly recommend this memoir to all readers that support libraries and the First Amendment.

Margo’s Got Money Troubles, by Rufi Thorpe****

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Margo’s Got Money Troubles, by Rufi Thorpe, is a bold, inventive, and very funny novel about a young woman cut adrift in a difficult, expensive world. My thanks go to NetGalley and William Morrow for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

Margo is the daughter of a Hooters waitress and a former pro wrestler, an absentee father with a family of his own; her mother had been his woman on the side. Consequently, Margo has always understood that she would have to hit the ground running when she grew up, and so she’s enrolled in a junior college. When the brief affair with her English professor leaves her pregnant, she has nobody reliable to advise her. The women she confides in urge her to terminate the pregnancy, and of course, the professor does, too; yet Margo likes the idea of becoming a mother, and it’s her fetus. Nobody can make her do anything. She decides to keep it.

Her mother is about to marry a man with money and conservative values, and she sees Margo as a loose cannon that just might upset the whole ship, so she tells her to terminate or be cut off.

Wow, Mom. Really?

Margo’s roommates hadn’t agreed to share an apartment with a baby. They need to sleep! They have to get up early!

Early on, I’m rolling my eyes. Part of me is thinking that Margo is about as dumb as they come; part of me is wondering why no author in this entire world is writing—or, more likely, why no major publishing house is publishing—novels in which a young woman chooses to have an abortion and take back her body and her life. But I’m overthinking, because soon, Margo—who after all, is just young, naïve, and rudderless—admits her error. She loves her little boy, but she had no idea he would be so expensive, or that motherhood would be so difficult. She tells her father, who re-enters her life as her mother steps away,

 “’I shouldn’t have had him,’ as though some rip cord had been pulled inside her. ‘I know that, okay? Everyone told me it would ruin my life and it did. They were right, and I was stupid, and I didn’t get it. Okay? But now I’m here.’ And her father, who strangely enough becomes the most reliable adult in her life, says, ‘Yes. Now we’re here.’”

Later, Margo will comment that nothing can make a person pro-choice like having a baby.

Margo has been waiting tables, but she can’t find child care, and when she brings the baby to work, she’s fired. And the truth is, she doesn’t like leaving her baby. Then one day, while looking at her naked self in a full length mirror, she observes that she has huge boobs for the first time in her life. Men would pay to see this. She opens an account on OnlyFans.

And so this controversial choice becomes the crux of the story. Some friends reject her, and her mother has really had it with her now. But there are a lot of meaty conversations that are thought provoking, and so, even though this old lady schoolteacher reviewer is mighty uncomfortable reading about an online sex worker’s film process, there are related questions that cannot be ignored. For example, Jinx—her father—advises her against it, saying that she shouldn’t get mixed up with these kinds of girls, and she asks him, “What are ‘those kinds of girls’?” And it’s true. A man can send his dick pix out into the world any number of times and places, and whereas many will consider these gross, or obscene, which they are, how many people will condemn the guy’s entire character, his moral fiber, for having done it? So the double standard is screaming to be recognized.

Margo goes through a lot of grief, defending custody of her son when the skeevy professor resurfaces, as well as having to deal with housing crises and other problems. But the central issue lurking in the shadows is that of a young mother choosing sex work as a career.

I have to tell you quite frankly that I was way out of my comfort zone through much of this book. I am probably not part of its target audience, despite the fact that I was approached to cover it. Partway in, I considered not finishing it, but the quality of the writing is so strong that I kept going, and I’m glad I did.

The story is told from a third person omnipotent perspective, but it shifts in a surprising and funny way, and that’s all I will say about that, lest I ruin it. I wonder from time to time if we have an unreliable narrator, but this is more than that. This unusual point of view a brave choice, and I think she carries it off well.

There are a lot of worthwhile discussions that can spring from this novel; it’s fertile territory, if you’ll pardon the expression, for book clubs. It’s also being adapted for Apple TV. I recommend this book for any feminist that likes to laugh, and isn’t afraid to think outside the box.

Spirit Crossing, by William Kent Krueger

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Spirit Crossing is the spellbinding new novel in the Cork O’Connor series by William Kent Krueger. The book starts with two missing women, and an accidental discovery of a fresh grave. Readers faithful to the series will recognize the characters; there are enough of them, mostly related to one another, to provide depth and interest, without confusing the reader or making the plot too complex.

Lucky me, I read it free and early. My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria books for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

The story begins innocently enough, with the series protagonist, Cork, out berry picking with his son, son-in-law, and grandson, who is known by the Ojibwe nickname Waaboo. While searching for blueberries, they come across a fresh grave. Waaboo sees the victim standing before him, as if she is still alive, and he’s distraught because she is so unhappy. Waaboo is not the first one in his family to have this ability; nobody doubts that he sees what he says he sees. And so the men immediately wonder whether this is the grave of Olivia Hamilton, daughter of a wealthy Anglo, who’s been reported missing with massive headlines everywhere; or that of Crystal Two Knives, a missing Native girl whose name barely elicits more than a yawn from law enforcement.

And so right away, we are looking at not only the characters, but the longtime issue of missing Native girls and women, and the way that law enforcement neglects their cases for those whose families have money and connections.

One of the things I admire most about Krueger’s writing is the way that he incorporates urgent issues that especially impact the place where he lives—northern Minnesota—into the plot, blending them in so seamlessly that the reader isn’t distracted, because the issues are part and parcel of the mystery to be solved. He does the same thing with pipeline protests similar to the Dakota pipeline that lit up the headlines in recent years. Other aspects of the story include Ojibwe (Chippewa) culture and history, which is part of every book in the series, since most of the family is Ojibwe, and in this case, a character with a brain tumor. When significant events occur and the woman with cancer is the only one to witness them, did they really happen, or is it the brain tumor talking? This adds a layer of psychological tension not present in most of Krueger’s book; I’m not a fan of that subgenre, and am pleased to see that this doesn’t take over the plotline. It’s dealt with tastefully and without sensationalism.

Those that read my reviews know that I have an interest in seeing how authors develop child characters, particularly in a story such as this one, in which the child plays a major role. It makes me crazy when an otherwise competent author searches for shortcuts, such as a child that’s precocious or gifted, to explain away their own failure to craft the child’s character in a way that is honest developmentally. This is one more reason I enjoy this series. Yes, Waaboo has unusual powers, but he is still a small boy. The notion of going home without blueberries is a major blow. Tears threaten. I love the way Krueger develops this kid, and I can’t wait to see more of him in the future.

My one criticism involves a specific passage between the 88th and 90th percentiles, just as we rise toward the climax. Without going into spoilerish details, I will say that one character does something that everyone in the family agrees they must not do, and without any explanation, everyone in the family is fine with them doing it this time. This, of course, puts the character in danger, which anyone that’s paying attention can predict the very moment the action commences. It’s clumsy in a way that is atypical of this author, and I have no idea why he makes the choice he does, but it affects my enjoyment of the book, because suddenly I am not thinking as much about the characters as I am about the author. Having this occur a split second before the climax is especially grating.

On the other hand, I am picky. Very picky. I suspect that this passage will annoy only a small percentage of readers.

I do recommend this book, and this series, to those that love a good mystery. Although it can be read as a stand-alone, those with the time and inclination might enjoy going back a few titles, or even to the beginning of the series.

The Wedding People, by Alison Espach*****

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It’s a good sign when I finish reading a book, and I’m smiling. Alison Espach’s new novel, The Wedding People, not only left me smiling at the end; it made me laugh out loud almost from the get-go, and it will do the same for you.

My thanks go to NetGalley, Henry Holt, and Macmillan Audio for the review copies. This book is for sale now.

I’m not usually fond of romances, but a friend mentioned the premise of this one, and I couldn’t resist. In a nutshell:  Phoebe, the protagonist, worn down by the pandemic and devastated when her husband leaves her, heads off to the posh hotel where they’d intended to spend their vacation. She takes no luggage or even her phone, because she plans to kill herself once she’s inside that lovely place.

Upon arrival, it’s clear that a mistake has been made. The entire hotel has been reserved for a wedding. But Phoebe’s room hasn’t been double booked, and so she is allowed, with apologies, to proceed to her room. However, the bride—wealthy, entitled, Bridezilla—learns of Phoebe’s presence, goes to her room, and orders her to leave. As they argue, Phoebe discloses her reason for coming, and assures her that she’ll be gone—so to speak—by the time the wedding takes place. But Lila, our bride, is having none of it. How dare Phoebe spoil her wedding! Absolutely not. She isn’t going to have guests gathering just as a corpse is being wheeled out to the morgue, right through the lobby! Phoebe must change her plans.

I won’t share any further developments, but I will tell you this: Espach can write.

Long ago, I decided that five star reviews should not be reserved for the rare gem bound to become a timeless classic. I give five stars to any novel that makes me unusually happy, and that represents the best being published within its genre. This book is one of those.

Helen Laser is the voice actor narrating the audio version, and she makes it even funnier. If you are strictly a visual reader, that’s fine, but if you like both formats, go with the audio this time, or use the audio and print versions together, which is what I did.

Highly recommended to those that enjoy a good romance, a good laugh, or both.

The Faculty Lounge, by Jennifer Mathieu****-*****

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“You really had to hand it to Mr. Lehrer. While dying at work is never ideal, he had the decency to do it during his off period. And not only that, but at the start of it, too, giving the clerks in the main office plenty of time to find someone else to cover Ms. DeLaRosa’s Spanish II classes, even as they scrambled to figure out who should be telephoned when an eighty-two-year-old substitute teacher lies down on a ratty couch in a high school faculty lounge and dies. “

Jennifer Mathieu’s new novel, The Faculty Lounge, has been described as love letter to teachers. Though it is darkly funny in a number of places, the description isn’t wrong. By the ten percent mark, I had cackled out loud twice, it was so strangely accurate.

My thanks go to Penguin Group Dutton and NetGalley for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Our school is Baldwin High, a Texas school with a solid reputation. After the stage is set, with poor Mr. Lehrer breathing his last breaths during his planning period, and another teacher being cranky when the paramedics make her leave before her photocopies are done so that they can work on him, the story is organized with a single chapter per character. Obviously there are a lot more people on Baldwin’s staff, but this method works quite nicely, and since the characters interact, the chapters that come later in the book are richer, because there’s more backstory to help us understand them.

The youngest teachers have grown up with the knowledge that they might be shot to death at school; first they grew aware of this when they were students, and now, as teachers, the danger is still there. While older staff members tend to be rattled by a lockdown, younger ones see it as almost routine. Take attendance, salute the flag, and whoops, there it is. Herd any students outside of your door into the room, then lock it. Everyone on the floor. Pull your window blinds. Wait till it’s over.

I appreciated every character in this book, and I was sorry when it ended.

There are crises at Baldwin, just as there always seem to be fires to put out in real schools; there are high maintenance parents with absurd complaints, as well as idiotic district directives. Bureaucrats! Toward the end, a veteran teacher explains to a newer one that some days, “the best you can do is show up and hang on.” So true! Your reviewer is retired from the profession, and I can recall a wise older teacher saying to me privately during difficult periods, “I’m here. And I’m dressed.”

The whole thing seems so familiar.

How much will this resonate to readers that aren’t educators? I have no idea, but I know that the in-jokes, the sense of the familiar, can’t be as strong. For a general readership, I’d say this is a four star read. Possibly this is true as well for those that have always taught early childhood, because many of the parameters are different. But for those of us that have taught middle and high school, particularly for those that are veterans, this is a solid five star read.

Cheerfully recommended to all, and highly recommended to veteran secondary teachers.