First People: The Early Indians of Virginia, Keith Egloff & Deborah Woodward

We all love the story of Pocahontas, even if we don't want to admit it.  But there's a whole lot more to Virginia Indian history than a mythic princess and her love affair with Mel Gibson John Smith.  And believe it or not, there are still a number of active, thriving Native American tribes in Virginia today, despite the Commonwealth's early 20th century efforts to "erase" Indian identities.

Egloff and Woodward's book is written at about a 6th grade reading level, which made it easy to read during metro commutes.  It offers a simple, succinct history of Virginia Indians from time of Virginia's first inhabitants more than 15,000 years ago to the present day.  Most of the information was drawn from archaeological evidence and the book was also written in collaboration with contemporary Virginia Indians, both of which made me very happy.  I would like to see the information from this book become part of Virginia history curriculum.  And by that I mean, I am making it one of my career goals.

There is a lot more to Virginian heritage than so many of us recognize.   This book is a great way to start learning about a deeper, richer history and to recognize the contemporary implications of 1607 for Virginia Indian communities.

North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell

I'm back!  And with another book on my list of very-favorites.  This one actually came to me by the way of Netflix - yes, I broke a cardinal rule and watched the movie first.  The film version was so good that I figured the book must be even better.  And it was.

Our heroine, Margaret Hale, grew up in aristocratic southern England.  Her father is a country curate, but she spent many of her formative years living with a wealthy (and very irritating, in my opinion) aunt in London.  When her cousin (also very irritating) gets married, she returns to her parents at Helstone (the parsonage), only to soon be uprooted to Milton, an industrial city in northern England.  The Hale family has a strange position in Milton social circles, which are polarized between textile factory owners and their workers.  As the novel progresses, Margaret forms relationships with individuals in both classes - not least the distinguished and well-respected master, Mr. Thornton (a tough nut to crack).  I'll leave the rest to your reading pleasure.

Elizabeth Gaskell lived at the same time as Dickens and the Bronte sisters and had close connections with each.  It's a fascinating period in history (1840s-1850s), when industrialization was transforming social and economic conventions.  North and South is not simply a romance - it is chock full of debates about gender roles, class conflict, and social justice issues, 19th century style.  It's a very intelligent, thought-provoking, thoroughly enjoyable work.  I certainly recommended it for fans of Austen, Dickens, and the Brontes.  And for romantic socialists.

To clarify: Yes, there is another book called North and South, published by John Jakes in 1982.  Yes, it is about the antebellum United States.  Yes, I have been in love with Orry Main (and perhaps George Hazard as well) since approximately the age of eight.  I have never read the book, but the 1980s miniseries is pretty wonderful.  A whole lot trashier than Victorian England, though...

A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens

I have read the beginning and the end of this book several times before, but have never made it all the way through. Until now. In case you don't know, the novel follows the story of the French Revolution through the lens of Dr. Manette, who is released from the Bastille at the beginning of the novel; Lucie, his daughter; and her eventual husband, the French aristocrat, Charles Darnay. Dickens also spends a good deal of time in France, among the peasants, who are simultaneously oppressed and bloodthirsty.

I found Dickens's narration of history very hard to get through, both because it is dense and wordy and because I am not much of a history person. I wanted to take a pen and slice out a third of the words he used. Especially when he went on about kings and aristocrats and massacres and politics. Again, though, that is in part due to my interests. On the other hand, I fell in love with his good-hearted scoundrel character (a tendency of mine), and, in general, enjoyed the plot lines and the way Dickens wove them together. Mostly though, I just feel better read for having actually worked my way through the entire novel at last.

The Assassin's Gallery, David L. Robbins

No moon shines over the dark waters of the Newburyport coast as a Persian assassin slithers ashore.  Her mission: to kill Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the 32nd president of the United States.  Only Professor Mikhal Lammeck, expert in assassin psychology, has a chance of tracking the elusive Judith and eliminating her before she reaches her target. 

Lammeck has spent years teaching the theory of assassin psychology.  Now, called back into the field against his will, he finds that he is in way over his head.  As the distance between him and his quarry narrows, Lammeck finds himself entering the assassin's mind, and is awed at her ability.  No longer motivated by the desire to help his country, the professor find himself drawn forward by the allure and enigma of his brilliant adversary. 

Robbins' novel is not simply an action-packed thriller.  His revisionist history is filled to bursting with historical detail, set against the complex backdrop of the 1940s social climate.  Industry, war, racism, and sexism writhe in the background, complicating an already intriguing plot.  Robbins also devotes considerable energy to developing the character of his assassin, lest she be seen as a “faceless” enemy.  Along with Lammeck, the reader comes to understand the motivations and history of the assassin, the challenges she faces, the depth of her resolve, and the reason that she is determined to succeed in her objective, against all odds.  

More literary than most thrillers, The Assassin’s Gallery is a great read for anyone who enjoys a good historical fiction novel and a story of action-packed suspense.   

The Columbian Exchange, Alfred Crosby

I lied.  In lieu of a much-anticipated Jane Austen novel, I decided to go for another early-Americas pick, The Columbian Exchange: Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492.  Motivated by the large font and lengthy endnotes, I decided to follow my previous selection (1491) with a work about the world after Columbus.  It was a quick read, and I enjoyed spending a week of lunch breaks pouring over tales of epidemic disease and wild pigs.

Crosby originally wrote this book in 1973, so most of the statistics are from the 1940s-60s.  The Cold War is still hot; China isn't yet a big player in politics or economics; the total world population is still under four billion.  All the same, the book lays out a good basic overview of primarily biological interchange between the Americas and the rest of the world since 1492.  Diseases like smallpox and syphilis ravaged populations.  Wild pigs, cattle, and horses roamed the Caribbean islands and American plains.  Potatoes, corn, and manioc, from east to west, became some of the most basic staples of the Old World diet.  A little dry, but there's enough subtle humor to keep you going if you're motivated.

As much as I've enjoyed my journey through the contact-era Americas, it's time for a change of pace.  Next stop: theology.

1491, Charles Mann

Yes, I'm still here!  I am absolutely astounded by how quickly my fellow-bloggers read books.  But after a month of reading (and traveling cross country to Colorado), I finally have a new one for you -  1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus.  A professor assigned a chapter from this book during the spring semester and I liked it so much that I decided to buy it.

Unlike many historians and archaeologists, Mann is able to pull together a succinct synthesis of American civilizations pre-Columbus, focusing on the ways people modified their environments to shape the world early colonists later experienced.  Perhaps it sounds a little dry, but Mann is an excellent writer and takes you along on his adventures to the Amazon, the Mexican countryside, and New England.  I was impressed with how well he tackled some complex archaeology, and drew comparisons between so many diverse groups of native peoples in the Americas.

I certainly recommend this book for anyone interested in early American history, archaeology, Native American studies, or environmental studies.  It's easy to read, but does take a while to tackle the whole thing if you're an unfortunately slow reader like me.

And with that, I'm defecting to another Jane Austen before I tackle any more archaeology or history.

The Boy Who Loved Anne Frank, Ellen Feldman

Following the theme of Beth's most recent post, I recently finished a novel relating to Nazi Germany.

The story is told from the perspective of Peter van Pels, the young boy who hid with the Frank family during World War II. Anne wrote in her diary that Peter told her that if he got out alive, he would reinvent himself entirely. Though Peter actually died in Mauthausen, in this novel, Feldman explores the possibility that he did survive. What if Peter, having been separated from Otto Frank at the concentration camp, lived the three additional days until the camp was liberated by allied forces? What if, alone in the world, he emigrated to the United States, where bearing an "American" surname he was able to shed off all traces of his Jewishness and his life before? What would've happened to him when Otto released Anne's diary to the world?

Though I can't say that The Diary of Anne Frank was one of my favorites as a child, it certainly had an impact on me, and the premise of this book was enough to draw me in. I wasn't too terribly impressed with it as a whole, but there are some sections which are so poignant that they more than made up for the rough patches. It raises some interesting questions -- Was the Nazi persecution one felt by all Jews, or just those who actually lived through it? By essentially "canonizing" Anne Frank, are we in a sense doing her a disservice? Do we fail to understand that, at age 13, Anne's view, though genuine, may not necessarily have been accurate? (There's a great part of the novel that deals with the "stealing bread" incident in Anne's diary). How long should we keep something on the forefront of our consciousness? How long are we even capable of doing so?

This novel isn't really a tear-jerker (you learn early on in the novel that Peter finds success and even happiness in America), but it's also not really an uplifting story either. I do find that it's genuine though. And when you're dealing with something as awful, as ugly, as the horrors of Nazism, I think that that's perhaps the best we can ask for.

The Book Thief, Markus Zusak

I should maybe leave this book to Susan, because she recommended it to me. However, I just finished it and have quickly added it to my favorite books.

The Book Thief tells the story of Liesel Meminger, a young girl living with foster parents in Nazi Germany. She cannot read at the beginning of the book, but slowly falls in love with words through the people closest to her. And these people offer different revelations about life, death, morality, obligation, love, and what it means to be human -- against the backdrop of one of the most inhumane times in history.

Zusak chose Death as his narrator, a character who has the dubious privilege of seeing much of Europe during the time of the book. This narrator places Liesel's story in a horrific historical context. At the same time, he keeps the story focused on, and revolving around, Liesel. Zusak's richness of metaphor and unique use of language fit both his narrator and his main character very well. Death is a straightforward narrator with an outside-of-human perspective on his subject matter.

Despite this understatement, the story loses nothing of the horrors of the time. Somehow, Zusak keeps a childlike tone to his narration, so that people like me, who are chased off by too dark subject matter, still enjoy it. The story made me cry without depressing me. It offered no false hope, but did not crush characters or readers. It is brilliant.

Other than that, all I have to say is, you should read it.

Persuasion, Jane Austen

"Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste!  Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting association, are inviting to you."

As I read these lines, I knew I had found a literary companion in Anne Elliot.  A sensible twenty-something among the vain, silly, proud, and rank-obsessed, Anne seems almost too perfect to be palatable.  Yet her faults - timidity, relying on the opinions of others, thinking perhaps too much about duty - do indeed make her human (though still enviable in my opinion).  Believable characters are key in a novel with a lot of talk and very little action.  Persuasion was engaging and funny - especially if you are used to Jane Austen's irony and sarcasm.  It was a fast read for me, and I certainly recommend it - if you have patience for a book of conversations.

As a bit of an introduction to my literary tastes, I float between 18th-20th century literature, history and historiography, anthropology and archaeology, Annie Dillard or Elizabeth Gilbert-style nonfiction, historical fiction, religion and faith, and the occasional just-for-fun read.  Hopefully I'll have some good reviews to come.

"She was feeling, though not saying, that after being long in the country, nothing could be so good for her as a little quiet cheerfulness."

Helena, Evelyn Waugh

Once again, I chose a book based on recommendation. I opened it in the library to see if I could figure out the basic plot line (I don't like to jump into a book unless I know this) and sat on the floor reading the first five or ten pages. Needless to say, that recommended it to me.

Helena tells the story of St. Helena from a half-fictional, half-historical perspective. St. Helena is the mother of Constantine, the Roman emperor who legalized Christianity. She is famous for being pious, establishing churches, and supposedly discovering the true Cross. Not much is known about her background or her relationship with Constantius, the father of Constantine.

Waugh takes liberty in creating a vivid young Helena on the British Isles who falls in love with the adventures she hopes to find as the wife of Constantius. I felt like I knew Helena through her early marriage, the birth of her son, and even up through her divorce. Then, abruptly, the tone shifts. Waugh steps away from Helena. I spent most of the novel anticipating the story of her conversion because she spends so much of the novel seeking. Waugh simply slipped in her conversion as a side note, rather than a major part of the story. I never quite got over that, even though he brought the narration back into her character for a while.

Waugh also has a habit of slipping occasionally from the concrete into heavily abstract language that, quite frankly, lost my attention. Other than these few passages, however, I enjoyed his writing. Like the first five or ten pages, the novel read smoothly and kept me reading. I just had to see it as a novel about a girl from Britain who marries a great Roman and gives birth to a greater one, not as the story of a saint that I expected.

Briar Rose, Jane Yolen

On recommendation from a roommate and fellow Vincentian volunteer.

This book brings together the stories of the Holocaust and Sleeping Beauty, one of my favorite fairy tales. I mostly liked the fairy tale as a child because I had a Sleeping Beauty book with the most beautiful illustrations. I sped through Jane Yolen's Briar Rose in one evening, from 4pm to 10pm, despite the fact that I had assumed it would keep me reading for a few days.

Despite the fact that it is in the Fairy Tale series, a series of books by different authors meant to bring fairy tales to life in the modern world. It is the story of a girl on a quest for her own history and her grandmother's identity, an identity which Yolen reveals through the story of Sleeping Beauty. Any Holocaust story is bound to be tragic, and this novel is no exception. Yet it keeps from being oppressive. I'm fairly certain that I've read excerpts from it somewhere, because portions of it were so familiar that I already knew the names of places and events, but I know I hadn't seen some of the plotlines before.

The library housed it with Juvenile Fiction, where it probably fits best, but it doesn't need to be a children's book. Which, after all, is part of the goal of the Fairy Tale series.