wahistorian's Reviews (506)

Not your typical public policy book, Closing the Food Gap draws on Mark Winne's 30 years of experience working on real-world solutions to food insecurity to suggest what works and what doesn't. Winne argues that policymakers and nonprofits have failed to tackle the root cause of hunger--poverty and low wages--preferring to prop up large-scale agriculture with band-aid solutions to unequal food distribution. But none of Winne's prescriptions are pat or simple, and he recognizes the need for farmers to earn a living wage while bringing the cost and availability of food into reach for low-wealth Americans. Very readable exploration of a tough, tough challenge.

Go Down Together may be more than anyone needs to know about the criminal careers of Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker, but like any good researcher, Jeff Guinn just couldn't resist using every interesting insight he had gleaned. Guinn ferretted out new sources that correct the notion of Clyde and Bonnie as bank-robbing masterminds, using them to demonstrate that the two spent much more time aimlessly driving around the South and Southwest, knocking off small groceries and robbing gumball machines (although they were pretty successful at replenishing their arsenals at National Guard Armories). Determined to stay together to the bitter end, the two were boxed in by intractable poverty and lack of opportunity, the Depression, and a misplaced desire for glamor and fame. In the end their constant race to elude capture was anything but romantic, yet their story remains strangely compelling.

An intense novel for people interested in art. Prize-winner war photographer Faulques retires from his profession to a tower in Spain, where he decides painting a battle mural will be the culmination of his life's work. He believes that painting can be real in ways photography has failed him: in conveying the brutality yet inevitability of human aggression. His plan is disrupted when one of his subjects, a Serbian soldier, shows up unexpectedly to settle a score. The interchange between the two--and Faulques's poignant memories of his lover Olvida--explores the capabilities of art, human responsibility in war, and (a less interesting topic) the role of the media in encouraging aggression. A simple premise with so many fascinating ramifications!

I believe this is my first Sherlock Holmes, so I admit it was difficult to keep the screen images of Holmes out of my mind while I read; as I read Holmes' analysis, it was Jeremy Brett's voice I heard, for example. But there were many surprises for me about this book, when measured against my expectations. The biggest one was that it is not a thriller, despite the number of times Doyle used the word in the text (and despite the lunging dog on the front cover). The author himself called it a "creeper," and it certainly was that: though Sir Charles Baskerville mysteriously dies, apparently of fright, at the beginning of the book, the reader is carried along not by any definite foreboding, but more by the experience of creeping along with Dr. Watson as he protects the next heir to the Baskerville estate. For me, then, the book became a complicated examination of the ties that bind--Watson to Holmes, servant to master, kin to kin--and how one interloper can threaten them. Every red herring introduced (escaped convict, mysterious bearded stranger, disgruntled houseman, scarlet woman), though ultimately not responsible for the crime at the book's center, still challenges the established social order. In the end, it is really only Watson and Holmes' friendship that emerges unscathed.

A reminder of how truly banal actors can be. Everyone Leigh worked with was 'uniquely talented' and 'very dear,' and Hitchcock was a playful master with nothing but respect for his actors. Even co-author Christopher Nickens steers clear of revealing anything insightful about Perkins' own complicated sexuality or Hitchcock's high-handed treatment of his female leads. The most interesting tidbit here was an anecdote about the director manipulating Leigh to sex it up in order to get co-star John Gavin to loosen up in the Phoenix motel scene. All in all, pretty forgettable.

Mark Harris identifies the 1968 Oscar nominees for best picture as revolutionary films, making 1966-1967 a watershed period for filmmakers channeling the rising youth culture in the U.S. Compare the 1967 and 1969 nominees to those of 1968, and you can see immediately that Harris has point. THE GRADUATE, BONNIE AND CLYDE, IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT, and GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER are groundbreaking films that have stood the test of time, and DR. DOLITTLE is the exception that proves the rule. Without spoiling Harris's book, I can say that he traces the creative processes behind these movies to demonstrate the many ways in which Old Hollywood was eclipsed, in so many ways: color vs. B&W; new stars vs. established actors; and new themes with contemporary relevance. If you love films, this book is crammed with insights you'll appreciate. A fun serious read.

Asne Seierstad's account of the massacre of teens at a Labor party summer camp is gut-wrenching, but very timely, given the increasing number of mass shootings in the news. Seierstad's research reveals the background of the perpetrator, Anders Behring Breivik, but also the political circumstances in Norway that may have contributed to his incomprehensible slaughter of 77 teens. Rejected by nearly every group he tried to connect to, Breivik became the self-appointed savior of "Norway for Norwegians," directing his rage at immigrant Muslims, many of whom are also profiled in the book. Seierstad's aim is to describe each person's search for their role in a community--"one of us"--and how those identities can crash into one another with explosive results. It's an issue that will continue to be worthing thinking about as immigrants move around the world.