Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler’s Berlin
by Erik Larson
Read by Stephen Hoye
ages: adult
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I’ve not read any of Erik Larson’s work before, even though he (and this book) have been on my radar for a while now. So, when it came up as the November book at the Nook, I was more than happy to read it. (Or in my case, listen to it, since I didn’t really have the time to sit and read it.)

If you don’t know: it’s the story of William Dodd, the U. S. Ambassador to Berlin in 1933, just as Hitler was rising to power, and all that entails. And, it entailed a lot. First off, Dodd wasn’t that popular with the “Pretty Good Club”: the insiders (mostly Harvard grads) at the State Department who didn’t like Dodd’s conservation-minded ways. (He wanted to live within his salary? Shocking!) They undercut all of Dodd’s attempts at, well, diplomacy, and leaked things to the press whenever it served them to make him look bad. All they really wanted him to do — infuriatingly, to the reader, knowing what Hitler was capable of — is get Germany to make good on their debt to America.

The other part of the story (the “love” part) was about Dodd’s daughter, Martha, who was a bit of a manizer. (If a man can be a womanizer, then…) She was naive, silly, and very much in love with falling in love. So, as a result, she was married twice, divorced once, and had strings of lovers on her chain all at the same time. Can you tell yet that she really bothered me? Actually, what bothered me most was not all of that, but that she would play one lover off another. Or pine for their attention, only to push them away. It was most infuriating.

But, this book was fascinating. It did spawn a lot of thought and discussion: about the nature of evil, about relationships, about what could have been done, about politics.  And for that, reading (well listening to it — a side note: the audio was just fine. Maybe Hoye’s voice was a bit grating by the end, but not enough to turn me off) this is well worth the time.

by Katherine Boo
ages: adult
First sentence: “Midnight was closing in, the one-legged woman was grievously burned, and the Mumbai police were coming for Abdul and his father.”
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I don’t know if I’m the last person to read this one, but I do know that it was its nomination for the 2012 National Book Award that finally spurred me into picking it up. (You would think it was M’s desire to go to India for a year. But, no.)

For the twelve of us who haven’t read the book yet, this is Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Boo’s foray into the world of Mumbai’s underbelly. She spent several years (from November 2007 to March 2011) in the Annawadi slum, near the Mumbai airport, getting to know the residents. She followed their ups and downs, painting a portrait of people who were desperately poor, and their attempts to do something about it, whether for good or ill.

It’s a desperate story, gritty and harsh, and yet it’s an incredible work of journalism. Boo’s affection for these people come through, and she manages to get them — individuals who have no qualms in lying to each other as well as police and the government — to tell an honest story. It’s one that made me think: about class, about globalism, about corruption, about India as a country.

Several quotes that struck me:

An aside in a larger discussion about the sections in Annawadi (yes, even the poor in India have classes): “In the Indian caste system, the most artfully oppressive division of labor ever devised, Dalits — once termed untouchables — were at the bottom of the heap.” (p. 42)

The parliamentarian who would represent Annawadians was hardly in doubt. It would be the incumbent from the Congress Party, Priya Dutt, a kind, unassuming woman who personified two historical weaknesses of the Indian electorate: for flimi people and for legacies.” (p. 230)

And what I think is at the heart of this book:

What was unfolding in Mumbai was unfolding elsewhere, too. In the age of global market capitalism, hopes and grievances were narrowly conceived, which blunted a sense of common predicament. Poor people didn’t unite; they competed ferociously amongst themselves for gains as slender as they were provisional. And this undercity strife created only the faintest ripple in the fabric of the society at large. The gates of the rich, occasionally rattled, remained unbreached, The politicians held forth on the middle class. The poor took down one another, and the world’s great, unequal cities soldiered on in relative peace.

Fascinating and thought-provoking.

by Michael Pollan, illustrated by Maira Kalman
ages: adult
First sentence: “Eating in our time has gotten complicated — needlessly so, in my opinion.”
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I suppose this is kind of an unusual pick for me, since I’ve been on board with Michael Pollan’s philosophy (more or less) for years now. And so, in many ways, this little “eater’s manual” is kind of superfluous, at least for me.

But, since I picked it for my in-person book group (I’d wanted to pick Kitchen Counter Cooking School, but the library only has one copy, and I needed something more accessible), I figured I needed to read it.

And while I don’t think I learned anything new, this lovely illustrated, slim book was simply a joy to read. Pollan’s taken his whole philosophy and boiled it down to seven words — Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants — and has 83 rules to help you follow that philosophy. In other words: he makes the complicated and long Omnivore’s Dilemma accessible for, well, ordinary people.

Which means that I hope people will read it, and we can have some good discussion. Because there are some good ideas in this book.

Oh, and as as aside: my favorite rule? I have three: #22, It’s Not Food if It Arrived Through the Window of Your Car; #57, If You’re Not Hungry Enough to Eat an Apple, Then You’re Probably Not Hungry; and #76, Place a Boquet of Flowers on the Table and Everything Will Taste Twice as Good.

Worth reading.

by Ann Vanderhoof
ages: adult
First sentence: “This time, I bring my rolling pin to the Caribbean.”
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I read, and fell in love with Vanderhoof’s book of her first trip to the Caribbean,
Embarrassment of Mangoes, nearly five years ago. I didn’t even know there was a book about a second trip until a few months back, when someone pointed it out to me. Of course, I had to read it! And, unsurprisingly, I had much the same experience with this one that I had with the first book.

Ann and Steve returned to Toronto, to their “land-based” life, but after a couple of years, they realized that they missed the easy-going, food-saturated life they had in the Caribbean. So they did what they could to put things in order, got out their boat, Receta, and headed south again.

In many ways, this one covers much of the same territory as the first one did: there is food and friends and sunshine. But, knowing that, Vanderhoof was smart: the book (as evidenced by the title), is mostly about the spices native to the islands, and the many, many uses they have in everyday life. And because I don’t know much about the spices I eat, I learned a whole lot. Like how nutmeg is grown, and the fact that mace and nutmeg comes from the same plant. And that the islanders (especially on Trinidad) love their peppah HOT. I also learned a whole lot about rum (I had to turn to a friend to explain proof, just so I could understand why the 151 proof Saba Spice was so difficult to get down), and the ways in which rum really does permeate island culture.

My favorite island this time was Trinidad; Vanderhoof made it come alive, and made me curious about the African/Indian blend of cultures and cuisine they have there.  They also spent a lot of time in the Dominican Republic and Dominica, both islands would be fascinating to visit. Mostly, though, I envied their approach to seeing the world: parking in one spot for months at a time, soaking up the culture and the cuisine, meeting people, and learning about a place rather than just seeing it. I would (still) love to travel that way.

But the next best thing to a vacation is a well-written, food-heavy, travel book about an area. And this one is just the ticket.

by A. J. Jacobs
age: adult
First sentence: “Over the years, I’ve gotten a lot of suggestions.”
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It’s no secret that I really like A. J. Jacobs. Even so, I somehow missed this book when it came out. Unlike his other three books, this is a series of short vignettes, one month projects ranging all over the place from a month of trying to be like George Washington, to a month of outsourcing his life to India, to a month practicing being radically honest.

While it’s a fascinating and fun little jaunt — my favorite chapter was the rationality project — it lacked the depth that his longer books have. See: he’s really not all about the gimmick, at least not in his big books. Sure, they’re gimmicky, and they’re silly, but there’s a profoundness (profundity??) to them that was missing from these experiments. And because of that, they weren’t nearly as interesting as they could have been.

That said, I’m not sure I’d want to read a whole book about him outsourcing his life, or even being George Washington (though I didn’t learn a thing from that chapter, since Hubby’s a pretty big GW fan). They worked as vignettes, even if the depth and reflection isn’t there. They are funny (the naked one was pretty hilarious), and his wife is still amazingly tolerant (though he gives her a month of whatever she wants, and she quite abuses the power). It has all the elements of his books, just not to the extent that I have come to enjoy.

Upon reflection, this would be a really good introduction to the weird world that is A. J. Jacobs.

by A. J. Jacobs
ages: adult
First sentence: “For the last few months, I’ve been assembling a list of things I need to do to improve my health.”
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Review copy provided by my place of employment.

The thing I love best about A. J. Jacobs is that he’s insane enough to try things that normal human beings don’t even consider. I mean, really: who would read the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica? Or spend a year living the Bible to the letter? Or going undercover as woman? (Actually, I haven’t read that one. Yet.)

Or how about spending two years becoming the healthiest man alive?

If anyone can go from intellectual, indoor-loving couch potato, to a lean, mean machine, it has to be A. J. Jacobs.

He organizes this one roughly chronological — giving us check-up updates from month 1 to month 25 — but also by body part. He spends a month on his eyes, his ears, his brain, his fingers, his stomach, his heart, his testicles (yes, you read that right), and right on down to his feet. He’s game to try just about everything — from cave man exercise (and diets!) to going OCD on toxins to BluePrintCleanse, though he didn’t go as far as plastic surgery — there really is no stone he leaves unturned. It’s a fascinating way to approach health, but also a trivia-inducing one. If I have become insufferable with “Did you know…” and “I read in Drop Dead Healthy…” statements, it’s only because this book is packed with so. much. information. And all of it interesting. It helps, I think, that his books are so readable: he’s self-deprecating, but not to the point where it’s annoying. He’s funny. And his wonderful, long-suffering wife (and adorable boys) play a role as well; he really is devoted to them, and they really are wonderfully tolerant of his insanity.

So, did I learn anything? Yes. There was possibly too much information thrown at me, but some did sink in. Will I incorporate anything I learned in my life? I don’t know. Perhaps. Was it an enjoyable way to spend my time? Most definitely.

Oh, and for the record: I think A. J. would be proud that I read this book entirely while on the elliptical at the gym. I hope so, anyway.