Mirabilis!, Jul 19 2004

The collection of papal mini-biographies here is the most complete I know of, including even the various anti-popes and the historically questionable Pope Joan. Where the available information is incomplete or contradictory, author, editor and researcher J.N.D. Kelly usually points that out. Other books give more information about specific aspects of the papacy, but none offers such a wide range of information between two compact covers.

My one complaint is a minor one: Mr. Kelly's judgments about what did and did not happen and who should and should not have been pope (regarding everything from Pope Joan and the anti-popes to conspiracy theories surrounding the unexpected death of Pope John Paul I in 1978) tend toward the official Vatican view more often than I'd like. But a book has to take some point of view, and if Mr. Kelly had done the opposite I'd probably be complaining now that he was a bit too antagonistic for my taste.

All in all, this is an irreplaceable resource for any theologian, religious scholar, or intellectually curious reader.

Skinny plot, Jul 18 2004

This is the first book I've read by Carl Hiaasen, who has made a name for himself with what I have read are bitingly hilarious narratives mostly set in my native Florida. I picked up Skinny Dip on a whim, looking for a well-told but light story to read in the summer heat, and I was only partially rewarded.

The story does have its moments. The story's feckless antagonist, a biologist called Chaz, is initially cast as a villain by explaining that he doesn't separate his papers and plastics for recycling. On the payroll of a rule-bending tycoon, Chaz fakes test results to mask fertilizer runoffs in the Florida Everglades and then he throws his wife over the side of the ship on an anniversary cruise to prevent her from discovering the deed. She survives only by grabbing onto a bale of marijuana that happened to be floating by, and vows to take revenge. It's not Ulysses, of course, but it was never met to be.

Where Skinny Dip falls short is in its pacing and its politics.

The poor rhythm of the tale comes from its length, which includes too many dead spots to make it the kind of page-turner it could have been with a more aggressive editor (see the lengthy and ultimately unsatisfying revenge plot of the cannabis-hugging wife).

And the politically correct characterizations -- however admirable they might seem at first -- are in the end tiring. Mr. Hiaasen seems more than a little earnest in the moral undertones he creates. The book's obvious environmental subplot, the use of a character who vows to never misuse the services of illegal aliens again, a host of smiling good guys who never drink and who will their assets to charity -- it's enough to make it seems like the obvious lessons and not the narrative are the point of the book. That may work with children's stories, but one presumes that adults' literary tastes are more involved -- even when they are lounging at the seaside.

Immortality, Jul 14 2004

Mr. Charles' death earlier this year convinced me to listen to the two CDs of his that I owned and to go through the handful of anthologies I have that include the great singer's music -- an exercise that left me looking for more.

Enter this 50th Anniversary Collection, just about the most comprehensive compilation of Mr. Charles' work possible. The song list includes (almost) everything the singer ever recorded, from his awe-inspiring version of "Confession Blues" to the melodic "Georgia on my Mind" to the playful "Shake Your Tail Feather" from the Blue's Brother's movie.

I can only think of one song puzzlingly missing from this collection, but it's a biggie: Mr. Charles' immense version of Maceo Merryweather's "Some Day Baby". In my book, that's an omission significant enough to cost the collection a five-star rating, though not one serious enough to instead recommend the much less ambitious Genius Sings the Blues, the only CD I know of that has that song on it.

Many collections of this size sadly water down a collection by mixing the performer's best material with inferior music recorded simply to occupy the B side of 45 rpm singles or that was removed from the singer's song list before being completely refined. All 102 songs on this five-CD set are clearly not of equal quality, but the scope and the start-to-finish quality of this collection make it clear that Mr. Charles is among a small handful of artists for whom a collection like this is not overkill.

This is an essential addition to any music lovers' library, and one that assures that at least musically, Mr. Charles really will always be around.

On specialization and hero worship, Jul 1 2004

But if you are more of a general cycling fan -- as I am -- then chances are you'll decide that this collaboration between Mr. Armstrong and Graham Watson, cycling's photographer of record, is a bit too much of a good thing, a level of hero worship that borders on awkwardness.

That said, Mr. Watson's photography is as always excellent and even if the level of detail in the text doesn't rival that of Mr. Armstrong's two autobiographies (It's Not About the Bike and Every Second Counts) it is really more of a commentary than a narrative, and that saves it from being redundant to the other efforts.

The book has an undercurrent about specialization as a factor of Mr. Armstrong's success -- the same level of specialization that resulted in the book itself.

While Mr. Armstrong's legacy as one of cycling's greatest champions is secure, history may also remember him as the man who proved once and for all the value of focusing on one big race each year rather than simply trying to achieve a good level of fitness and then racing as often as possible, as most previous champions did.

This book is just as specialized: it's not about it's not about a sport, or an event, or a team, or a race. It's not even about a man and all the dimensions that implies. It's about a great cyclist. Now, is that good or bad? The way you answer that question will determine whether or not you should buy this book.

Goodbye stupid films, Jun 25 2004

The story line is wonderfully simple: a woman lapses into a coma in the former East Germany and when she awakes, the Berlin Wall had come down and the communist state she served has been dissolved. Her family, aiming to save her from additional stress that could send her into another coma, creates a small bubble of the former East for her to live in. Sounds simple, but the best stories are often very simple on the surface ... Goodbye Lenin! proves that point once again.

The DVD package is just average -- a wider selection of languages, and maybe some historical information about the time frame covered by the film that could help explain some references for people unfamiliar with the former East Germany -- would have earned an extra star.

On your best behavior, Jun 5 2004

Eats, Shoots & Leaves is a charming book and an unusual success story, and I applaud it for bringing to the fore a debate about the aspect of our language that has suffered most from its inundation under a sea of Internet chat and cellular text messaging. Using a mix of humor and anecdotes, author and journalist Lynne Truss manages to create a highly readable and enjoyable primer that not only explains how punctuation works but why it is important.

If you have any doubt, witness the sentence: "A woman without her man is nothing." Now add two lonely punctuation marks and the meaning is turned on its head: "A woman: without her, man is nothing." The title of the book is another example -- it is supposed to be a description of the diet of pandas, but because of poor punctuation it sounds more like a complaint about a murderous dinner guest.

Fair warning: American readers might have problems with some of Ms. Truss's vocabulary (a "fag" is a cigarette in England; "rubbers" are erasers), and her statements about placing all punctuation marks outside quotation marks and the frequency with which she uses Britishisms like "actually" and "obviously" will stand out to readers already comfortable with their grip on grammar and punctuation. A lot of those problems could have been eliminated by putting the manuscript in the hands of a thoughtful editor before releasing it in the United States.

I also have a problem with treating punctuation as an end rather than as a means to an end. I think anyone who writes even a grocery list while trying to remember thousands of often archaic and obscure rules could starve to death before they ever make it to the supermarket. The ultimate goal should be to make the writer's intent clear. Punctuation is simply a tool to that end.

A classic, Jun 5 2004

But having an affinity for things Italian or for bike racing is not necessary in order to enjoy this 25-year-old classic. What is necessary is an appreciation for small things and memories about the mysterious period between adolescence and adulthood. If that describes you, then chances are you'll enjoy this touching film.

Amid the praise I should say that the DVD package is only average: the original trailer and teaser are there, but it would have been nice to have some commentary from director Peter Yates, some of the actors, or from critics who were fans of the film. A "Making of Breaking Away" mini feature would have also been a welcome addition.

One note: Breaking Away is a very American film, and so I'm not so sure how much of it will hit home with foreign viewers.

Thinking outside the Fox, May 29 2004

While the title of this book might imply that it focuses mostly on the seven-year history of Fox news, it is really about the evolution of the sector as a whole. Well documented is Fox's blatant disregard for conventions most journalists consider (or considered) beyond reproach -- above all the value of objectivity and a healthy suspicion of institutions -- but the central argument is how it forced its values on rivals CNN and MSNBC, the well-funded joint venture between Microsoft and NBC.

The book is an accessible read, well researched, objective in its take on the subject (author Scott Collins works for the Los Angeles Times, and not one of the three main players in the sector), and packed with enough information to even satisfy people in the business.

But despite all that, I think it also misses the real spark behind Fox's rise. Mr. Collins' central argument can be boiled down to a 1995 Times Mirror poll he cites that reported that while 40 percent of Americans said they were politically conservative only 5 percent of journalists did. Fox, he argues, rose up to compensate for that lopsidedness.

While that is no doubt relevant, I think it is also a simplification. I see the main difference between the pre-Fox and post-Fox worlds of news coverage not as one between circumstances in which conservatives did not have a voice and one in which they do, but instead a story about a society that is losing its empathy, its tolerance for opposing views. The arguments for why that took place are best left for another day, but if one accepts the point it becomes clear that Fox is not a cause but a symptom.

A dominating anomaly, May 26 2004

To be honest, I've still got some misdoubts about this ... but I guess a book can't be bad if I find myself scribbling notes to myself every few pages.

I've been a chess player for nearly as long as I've known how to read, and I admit I have wondered from time to time why in a game with early Muslim roots that was popularized in Europe during the Middle Ages -- neither culture known for its egalitarian qualities -- would be so dominated by a single powerful female piece, the way the queen dominates chess.

Author and Stanford University gender scholar Marilyn Yalom's thoughts on the same subject were no doubt the starting point for this book, which is filled with information that any chess player or anyone curious about gender roles will find interesting. For example, the queen piece evolved from the vizier (a bearded male piece that was like an anemic bishop, able to move only one diagonal space in any direction), who stood next to the king in one form or another for five centuries before the queen definitively appeared. Even then, the evolution was not universal: several games using the hapless vizier are still played in the Middle East, and the game most folks now know as chess is in some cultures still called "queen's chess," treating it as a derivative of some lost standard version of the game. The first chess queen appears in the 10th or 11th century, and it seems to have taken her around 300 years to accumulate the power she has today.

But more interesting -- even if somewhat unconvincing -- than a mere collection of trivia are Ms. Yalom's theories about why this evolution took place the way it did. I was thrilled by her research to uncover what she calls "missing link" pieces, chess pieces no longer used but that played an intermediate role between the original colored lumps that the Moors played the game with when they arrived in Spain the eighth century (the Koran doesn't allow the depiction of living creatures) to the six distinct pieces used today. She find the mention of the queen piece in a late 10th century Swiss manuscript, what appear to be 11th century ivory queens in Italy, and a distinctly female face on a queen a century later in Spain. She writes that the queen was able to give the vizier the boot thanks to the rising status of women in medieval Europe, the same period when the Virgin Mary started to play more than a bit role in the church's teachings.

Ms. Yalom comes up with other examples to support the idea, some well known and some less well known. She mentions the 10th century Spanish royal Toda de Navarre who went to war to install her grandson on the throne; Urraca de Galicia, who divorced her husband, King Alfonso I, and then defeated him in battle; Spain's Queen Isabella, whose support sent Christopher Colombus to the New World and whose resolve sent the same Moors who brought chess to Europe back to North Africa, where they've remained; Adelaide de Bourgogne, who later became Holy Roman empress; and Matilda di Toscana, who famously led troops into battle on horseback. But while I found this role call of powerful and iconoclastic women interesting, I was ultimately unconvinced by Ms. Yalom's argument: these women spanned too long a period and were too dissimilar to appear to be any more than fascinating historical anomalies, which is just what I think the queen chess piece is likely to be.

By the end, I began to wonder if the book was written for a female audience, or at minimum an audience already interested in gender issues. That is only because many of Ms. Yalom's points seem thinly supported ... probably supported enough for a "me too" crowd, but often insufficient for more skeptical readers like me. The book would also make an interesting read for chess players, which is why I picked it up in the first place. Of course, it might be doubly interesting for female chess players -- but Ms. Yalom points out that there aren't as many people in that category as one would hope: despite the gender of the game's most powerful piece only around 5 percent of chess players are women.

Religion in America, May 21 2004

In justifying their unspeakable crime, the Laffertys claimed they were acting on direct orders from God, who told them that the two victims were standing in the way of His plans. Attorneys developed an insanity defense, claiming -- not unreasonably -- that anyone who believes such an "order" could not be sane. But the book points out that so-called normal religious people believe many things that don't stand to objective reasoning: the virgin birth, for example, or the transformation of bread into the body of Christ. Are these people insane as well? If not, who decides what religious beliefs are rational and which are not? And if there is no objective standard to judge these things by, does that amount to a sanction of atrocious acts committed by would-be messiahs like the Laffertys?

A more or less similar story could have been written about any number of other ghastly crimes (author Jon Krakauer mentions several in passing in Under the Banner of Heaven), and the Mormon church by no means has a monopoly on violent histories. But Mr. Krakauer does make a compelling and highly readable case that the basic beliefs of Mormons (e.g., the church's historical reliance on violence, its love-hate relationship with polygamy and government authority, and the belief that every member can receive direct revelations from God) make this sort of event more common. And he certainly tells the story of the Laffertys in a way that will keep readers turning the pages even as they shake their heads in disbelief.

Several of my fellow reviewers have dismissed this book as anti-Mormon propaganda, and after reading it I can certainly understand why it is not a best-seller in Salt Lake City but I cannot have an opinion about how subjective the book might be since I am far from being an expert on Mormon history. Until now, my views of the church had been shaped by bits of information I'd been taught in U.S. history classes, a single trip through heavily Mormon northern Utah, the glossy public relations campaigns from the mainstream church, and a small handful of interactions with Mormons over the years.

But what is clear is that Mr. Krakauer did an extraordinary amount of research to produce this book. He weaves together stories of dozens of historical and contemporary Mormon families in far-flung outposts of the American west, Mexico, and Canada, mixed in with historical records, news accounts, and Mormon doctrine. Other non-fiction writers would do well to read Under the Banner of Heaven if for no other reason than to understand how important going through a good bit of shoe leather plays in producing a memorable work.

Unfortunately, some simple and mostly cosmetic steps could have made this book much better.

As one would guess, a story with so many characters is bound to be a little confusing. But Mr. Krakauer makes it more so, alternately refering to major players in the book by their first and last names. As a result, Mormon church founder Joseph Smith and modern-day polygamist Alex Joseph are both puzzlingly referred to as "Joseph" -- and other similar examples abound. Also, the sheer number of Laffertys, Lees, Batemans, Blackmores, Johnsons, and Smiths featured in the book might make some kind of family tree printed on the inside covers helpful, though I suppose that given all the instances of church members marrying their cousins or step-daughters could mean that such a diagram would have to exist in three dimensions.

Then there is the annoying problem of footnotes. It is true that adding a bit of information from outside the narrative can add another layer of complexity to a story. But in this case the use of footnotes is too often used to simply explain who a person is, which could simply be added to the narrative; or to explain that legal rights to reprint a given passage had been dutifully obtained, something would could have easily been relegated to the end of the book. Some pages have as much information in their footnotes as in the main text, and when the information found there is superfluous, it interrupts the flow of the narrative and creates the impression that Mr. Krakauer is trying too hard to impress, like a kid in school who sits in front and raises his hand even before the teacher finishes asking the question. If you read Under the Banner of Heaven you'll no doubt agree that the effort is impressive enough already.