Bleak House by Charles Dickens, again

Jan22

I finished reading Bleak House this afternoon, and although David Copperfield is still my favorite among the works of Mr. Dickens that I have read, I must say that Bleak House is quite a story. It’s a fog-infused novel, fog throughout being the sign and symbol of the people in the story and their lives as they are caught up in the fog of a very complicated and never-ending lawsuit, Jarndyce and Jarndyce.

“The lawyers have twisted it into such a state of bedevilment that the original merits of the case have long disappeared from the face of the earth. It’s about a will and the trusts under a will — or it was once. It’s about nothing but costs now. We are always appearing, and disappearing, and swearing, and interrogating, and filing, and cross-filing, and arguing, and sealing, and motioning, and referring, and reporting, and revolving about the Lord Chancellor and all his satellites, and equitably waltzing ourselves off to dusty death, about costs. That’s the great question. All the rest, by some extraordinary means, has melted away.”

It’s Shakespeare who wrote, “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers” as a halfway joking solution to the country’s problems. But Dickens must have had the idea in mind when he wrote such an indictment of the damage that being caught up in the system of law and courts and chancery can do to a man’s or woman’s soul, mind, finances, and health. Several characters fall victim to the vicissitudes of the courts and of lawsuits, while others manage to hold themselves above and at least somewhat untouched by the fog and snare of placing their hopes in a successful settlement of Jarndyce and Jarndyce or any other interminable lawsuit.

“In a unique creative experiment, Dickens divides the narrative between his heroine, Esther Summerson, who is psychologically interesting in her own right, and an unnamed narrator whose perspective both complements and challenges hers.”

This double narrative echoes the many double or contrasting characters in the novel as well as the divided pairs that appear throughout the story. As I’ve already noted, the irresponsible, uncaring Skimpole is a contrast to the extremely passionate Mr. Boythorn, a butterfly versus a bull. Timid, balding, and generous, Mr. Snagsby is the opposite of the grasping, greedy opportunist, Mr. Smallweed. Mrs. Jellyby neglects her home, her husband, and her children while she spends all of her time and energy trying to care for the natives far-off Borrioboola; Her daughter Caddy Jellyby acquires a father-in-law who neglects his responsibilities by focusing on himself and his own comfort and “deportment”. Mr Jarndyce, Ester Summerson’s guardian, refuses to pay any attention the lawsuit that carries his name, but Richard, another party in the suit, becomes so obsessed with Jarndyce and Jarndyce that he loses his money and his health worrying over it. Sir Leicester Dedlock has a “family of antiquity and importance” and is said to “always contemplate his own greatness” while the poor, illiterate orphan boy Jo habitually answers any inquiry made to him with the words, “I don’t know nothink.”
Lady Dedlock is rich, bored and unhappy while Esther Summerson is relatively poor, busy, productive, and generally content. I could go on, but if you read the book you will have fun finding more contrasts between the various characters.

And what are these contrasting and complementing characters supposed to teach us? Maybe we can learn that we all run the risk of going to extremes, of our best qualities turning us into caricatures and even exaggerated hypocrites or immoderate fools. Passion is good, but too much passion about everything looks foolish (Mr. Boythorn). Charity begins at home. Good deportment or manners is less important than a good heart. Taking care of business is good, but immersing oneself in the ever-changing circumstances of a business over which one has no control (like the stock market) is a recipe for anxiety and depression. None of us really can say that we know everything or that we know “nothink”.

The contrast between Esther and Lady Dedlock says something different; it’s not about moderation as much as it is about the difference between a “good woman” and a bad one. Is there really much difference between Esther and Lady Dedlock? Is one perfect while the other is a classic fallen woman? Or are they both just women who are trying to make the best of their own circumstances, women who have been molded by the past and their own upbringing, and who make the best choices that they can make in a Victorian society/sinful world?

I’m definitely curious now to watch the miniseries, Bleak House. Since I know the basic plot of the story, I can watch for more contrasts in the TV version as well as looking to see how the actors, writers and TV producers characterize the various people in the novel. The Perfect Esther and the Ever-Generous Mr. Jarndyce as well as the Evil Mr. Tulkinghorn and the Sponging Skimpole may have more nuance and subtleties to their character in a televised production.

Well done, Mr. Dickens.

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Jan15

I’m reading Bleak House by Dickens, finally. Partially inspired by the BBC TV show Dickensian, I am about two-thirds of the way through the book, and I thought I’d capture some thoughts here before they escape into the ether.

Bleak House is an odd book. One of the oddities occurs in almost the exact middle of the 740 page novel, when one of the ensemble of characters dies in a particularly weird and spectacular way: he spontaneously combusts. Spontaneous human combustion, or SHC, is a rare and controversial phenomenon in which a person catches fire and burns to death without an “apparent external source of ignition.” I thought maybe it was a Victorian superstition, but when I looked on Wikipedia there were recent reported cases cited of SHC from 2010 and 2017.I guess it’s a thing, although the explanations for the phenomenon vary.

Then, there are the characters who don’t catch on fire and turn into a pile of fat and ashes. They are odd, too. Dickens tends to use his characters to show the extremes of human personality. I’m also reading Karen Swallow Prior’s new book, On Reading Well, and she points out in her first chapter on prudence that “prudence, like all virtues is the moderation between the excess and deficiency of that virtue.” So, in Bleak House, Dickens has one character, Skimpole, who cares too little about his life, his livelihood, and his responsibilities. SKimpole is depicted as a childlike, carefree (or care-less) man who languishes about, happy and imperturbable, sponging off his friends, while sometimes being upbraided or even jailed by creditors. None of this bothers Skimpole who is content to live without any visible means of support and without caring from where the invisible means of his support, his friends, derives.

Enter Mr. Boythorn, another friend of the family at Bleak House, who has the opposite problem from Skimpole: Boythorn cares too much. He makes bombastic, exaggerated speeches throughout the book about how he would like to deal with anyone who inconveniences him. He “would have the necks of every one of them wrung, and their skulls arranged in Surgeons’ Hall for the contemplation of the whole profession.” Or he breathes “such ferocious vows as were never breathed on paper before” as to his intentions in this or that. Both men, Skimpole and Boythorn, are afflicted with a vice, an excess or deficiency of passion, but neither is very effectual in the world at taking care of his own affairs. Skimpole does nothing to take care of himself or anyone else, and Boythorn makes fantastic, exaggerated claims, threats, and promises that can’t possibly be carried out in real life while calmly feeding his bird and again, doing nothing effectual.

Neither man has the prudence that Ms. Prior defines in her book: “Prudence is the love that chooses with sagacity between that which hinders it and that which helps,” or “the perfected ability to make decisions in accordance with reality.” Mr. Skimpole lives in a fantasy world where money, and possessions, and responsibilities are inconsequential and beneath his notice, while Mr. Boythorn cares deeply about anything and everything but lives in another kind of fantasy where words and threats make reality change and get better, the louder and more violent the threat the better. I have certainly been guilty, and seen others enjoy, both kinds of fantasy, to our joint detriment, although I think the passionate speechmaker is something closer to real prudence than the sponging dilettante. At least Mr. Boythorn has a house and pays his own bills.

More on Bleak House tomorrow.

The Doctor Who Saved Babies: Ignaz Philipp Semmelweis

Jan9

I knew that sometime in the nineteenth century someone figured out that disease and germs were transferred to well patients by the dirty, contaminated hands of doctors and nurses and that medical personnel needed to wash their hands before examining a patient. But I didn’t know until I read this biography of the Hungarian doctor, Ignaz Semmelweis, that it was he who researched, discovered, and popularized this simple but revolutionary practice, saving thousands of lives in his own practice, and perhaps even millions through the next two centuries. (Interesting sidenote: In the United States, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes also independently discovered and wrote a paper on the efficacy of hand-washing and general hygiene in preventing the occurrence of puerperal fever, but no one believed him any more than they did Semmelweis at first.)

Central European history is a part of this Messner biography (published by Julian Messner publishers mostly in the 1940’s through the 1960’s), as Dr. Semmelweis was born (1818) into the Austro-Hungarian Empire and as an adult took part in unsuccessful efforts to free Hungary from the empire. But the emphasis is on Semmelweis himself and his part in making medical history. The biography doesn’t idealize Semmelweis; his flaws and mental health issues are evident, but not overly emphasized either. Semmelweis was obsessed with what he called his Lehre, his protocol for cleanliness that would keep women during and after childbirth from contracting the deadly puerperal fever. This infection killed up to a third of the women giving birth in hospitals because doctors were unknowingly carrying infection from the autopsy room directly to the maternity ward and because of dirty bed linens and open toilets in the middle of wards.

The biography itself is compelling and highly readable as are all of the Messner biographies I have read. The author takes Dr. Semmelweis from his young adulthood in Hungary, through his medical studies in Vienna, and back to Hungary where he practiced medicine, implemented his Lehre in Hungarian hospitals, and eventually succumbed to overwork, mental illness, and blood poisoning (ironically contracted from a lapse in the care that he usually took to wash and oil his hands before handling cadavers) and died at the age of forty-seven.

However, in spite of his comparatively short life, Dr. Semmelweis left a legacy of life and health to those who give birth or undergo surgery in hospitals. Author Josephine Rich ends her book with this tribute:

“It is almost one hundred years since his death, but the results of his work live on. Somewhere in the world, every minute of the day and night, a baby is born. It lives because a dedicated doctor spent all his lifetime tracking down a disease spread by filth and carelessness. Every mother today owes a debt of gratitude to Ignaz Semmelweis, the doctor who saved babies.”

And yet . . . from the CDC: “On average, healthcare providers clean their hands less than half of the times they should. On any given day, about one in 25 hospital patients has at least one healthcare-associated infection.”

This NPR story about Dr. Semmelweis doesn’t agree in all its details with the biography I read, but it does give the basic information about Semmelweis and his Lehr and his struggle to implement it and get other doctors to do the same. If you’re at all interested in medical history or the particular life of Ignaz Semmelweis, I would urge you to track down the book. It’s fascinating. (I have a copy in my library.)

Baker’s Dozen: Best Fiction I Read in 2018

Jan8

This list is a mixture of adult and children’s fiction that I read in 2018 (minus the 2018 middle grade fiction that I wrote about in two other posts). But a good children’s book is usually also a good book for adults, too.

Brendon Chase by B.B. Three brothers run away from home and hide for more than six months in a nearby woods, living off the land, and having adventures. Amazing, in the same vein as Ransome’s Swallows and Amazons.

This Dear-Bought Land by Jean Lee Latham. Historical fiction about Captain John Smith and the settlement of Jamestown.

The Axe (The Master of Hestviken, #1) by Sigrid Undset. Also by the same author, Kristin Lavransdatter. Undset is quite insightful about human nature and family and marriage dynamics, and because she inserts her insights into fiction set in medieval Scandinavia, the “lessons” are subtle and more easily internalized.

The Distant Land of My Father by Bo Caldwell. Also by the same author and highly recommended, City of Tranquil Light.

The Stranger from the Sea (Poldark, #8) by Winston Graham. The series goes downhill from this one, but I still enjoyed finishing all of the books in Graham’s Poldark saga.

Little Britches (Father and I Were Ranchers) by Ralph Moody. The entire series by Ralph Moody about his boyhood and young adulthood adventures is so good. Read them all.

Pigeon Post (Swallows and Amazons, #6) by Arthur Ransome. More Swallows and Amazons.

Coot Club (Swallows and Amazons, #5) by Arthur Ransome. No Swallows. No Amazons. But good fun, nevertheless.

Winter Holiday (Swallows and Amazons, #4) by Arthur Ransome.

Lincoln’s Dreams by Connie Willis. A very odd fantastical look at the interaction between past and present.

The Edge of Time by Louella Grace Erdman. I would definitely like to read more of Ms.Erdman’s writing this year, western-ish, mostly set in north Texas, but slowly unfolding and with the emphasis on characters rather than plot.

The Day the Cowboys Quit by Elmer Kelton. This one would pair well with The Edge of Time. It’s based on a real cowboy strike that took place in north Texas in 1883. So the time period and the setting are quite similar to Ms. Erdman’s book. The issues of farmers versus cowmen and settlement of a wild and lonely country are similar, too.

At Point Blank: A Suspense Novel by Virginia Stem Owen. Congregation, the sequel to this mystery series set in Texas near Houston, is good, too. I’m looking forward to reading the third book in the series in 2019.

Weird, Creepy, and Occultic

Jan7

A steady stream of curst and outcast female protagonists in my middle grade speculative fiction reading gave rise to this post, Outcast and Cursed. Now, I’m seeing another trend, analogous but not quite so prominent: male lead characters who are fixated on horror, monsters, the supernatural, and the occult. These boys are also outcasts, known for their weird, freaky, loser status.

In Nightbooks by J.A. White, Alex Mosher decides to destroy all of his notebooks full of creepy, scary stories so that he can become like everyone else. Unfortunately, he’s intercepted by a witch on his way to the incinerator, and the stories become the only thing that might keep him alive.

The Haunted Serpent by Dora M. Mitchell presents Spaulding Meriwether, a formerly homeschooled sixth grader who doesn’t fit in at his new public school because he’s consumed with graveyards and ghosts and monsters.

Grump, in the book of the same name by Liesl Shurtliff, is obsessed with monsters, too, but in his case, the monsters are humans who live above ground, and Grump is a dwarf. Grump is fascinated by the stories people tell about the world above the dwarf caverns, and he’s shamefully afraid of going down into the depths of the underground mines. Grump is, of course, outcast and friendless among the dwarves—until he finds a few friends who will accept him as he is.

Tito Bonito (The Boy, the Bird, and the Coffin Maker by Matilda Woods) is half-orphaned and outcast, imprisoned by fear of his abusive father. His only friend is Alberto, the coffin-maker. So, this novel also is a story about death and shadows and fear and graveyards. The magical realism of the story serves as a ray of hope in this otherwise dark tale.

In The Darkdeep by Ally Condie and Brendan Reichs, one of the main characters, Nico, is an outcast because his father has taken an unpopular stand in the small town where Nico lives. Nico is bullied, and he becomes consumed with the Darkdeep, a haunted pool of nightmares, that he and his friends (he does have a couple of friends) find and begin to explore. Definitely supernatural and monstrous, but not occultic.

Have you read any middle grade books in this sub-genre lately?

Happy Birthday to Carl Sandburg, b. January 6, 1878

Jan6

In honor and anticipation of Mr. Sandburg’s birthday, I started reading Abe Lincoln Grows Up a few days ago and finished it last night. It’s a different sort of biography, a poetic biography if you will.

“Carl Sandburg’s Abraham Lincoln: The Prairie Years was first published for Lincoln’s Birthday in 1926. Since then, it has become evident that the book lives for people of all ages, but the earlier chapters on Lincoln’s own childhood hold special interest for young readers. Abe Lincoln Grows Up is drawn from the first twenty-seven chapters of the original biography.” ~from the book jacket blurb

This “taken from and adult biography” aspect of the book accounts for its rich vocabulary, not dumbed down at all, and its sometimes smartly subject matter. Sandburg writes about all of the varied cultural facets of the frontier in Indiana, Kentucky, and Illinois where Abe Lincoln grew up, including drunkenness, brawling, death, disease, Indian wars, prejudice, and slavery. And he doesn’t really mince words, although the language is more poetic than graphic.

Maybe some examples, taken at random, would be helpful:

“Abe was the chore-boy of the Knob Creek farm as soon as he grew big enough to run errands, to hold a pine-knot at night lighting his father at a job, or to carry water, fill the woodbox, clean ashes from the fireplace, hoe weeds, pick berries, grapes, persimmons for beer-making. He hunted the timbers and came back with walnuts, hickory and hazel nuts. His hands knew the stinging blisters from using a hoe handle back and for a summer afternoon, and in autumn the mash of walnut-stain that wouldn’t wash off, with all the rinsing and scrubbing of Nancy Hank’s homemade soap.” p. 44.

“He wanted to learn, to know, to live, to reach out; he wanted to satisfy hungers and thirsts he couldn’t tell about, this big boy of the backwoods. And some of what he wanted so much, so deep down, seemed to be in the books. Maybe in books he would find the answers to dark questions pushing around in the pools of his thoughts and the drifts of his mind.” p. 135.

“At Anderson Creek ferry, he saw and talked with settlers, land buyers and sellers, traders, hunters, peddlers, preachers, gamblers, politicians, teachers, and men shut-mouthed about their business. Occasionally there came a customer who looked as if he might be one of the ‘half horse, half alligator men’ haunting the Ohio watercourse those years.” p. 148.

The book is illustrated by James Daugherty, and just as the prose won’t be to everyone’s taste, so the picture are in Daugherty’s style, dark, writhing, pen and ink, almost caricature. It’s not my favorite style, but Daugherty’s talent is evident.

I enjoyed the book, but I’m not sure how accessible it will be to the middle grade or even young adult readers it is meant to engage. The language and the stories that Sandburg tells, many of them handed down from witnesses who heard Lincoln himself tell them, are colloquial and somewhat out of context for the modern reader. Some are more immediate and comprehensible, like the stories of Lincoln’s generosity and his thirst for learning.

For a child who is particularly interested in Lincoln and the stories of his life and times, Abe Lincoln Grows Up would be a treasure, to read and re-read over and over. But I’m afraid that most of those who pick it up just to read about the great president, perhaps for a school assignment, are going to be discouraged by the disjointed and philosophical prose that verges on poetry but isn’t really.

Carl Sandburg won three Pulitzer Prizes: two for books of his poetry and one for the second volume of biography of Abraham Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln: The War Years. His book of children’s stories, Rootabaga Pigeons, published in 1923, emerges from copyright protection this year. Has anyone read these stories, and do you have an opinion?

A Few of the Best Realistic Middle Grade Fiction I Read (Published in 2018)

Jan6

The Journey of Little Charlie by Christopher Paul Curtis.

Hope in the Holler by Lisa Lewis Tyre.

Louisiana’s Way Home by Kate DiCamillo.

The Penderwicks at Last by Jeanne Birdsall. A good, solid ending to a great series.

The Vanderbeekers and the Hidden Garden by Karina van Glaser. A good second book in a great series, maybe even better than the first.

Nowhere Boy by Kathrine Marsh.

Rebound by Kwame Alexander.

A Dozen of the Best Middle Grade Speculative Fiction Published in 2018

Jan5

I read (or at least started reading) approximately 75-100 middle grade speculative fiction books published in 2018. These are, in my opinion of course, the best of all that I read, worthy of your time and your children’ reading time as well.

Sweep: The Story of a Girl and Her Monster by Jonathan Auxier. Mr. Auxier’s books just get better and better. This one, set in a magical Victorian London, highlights the appalling and dangerous working conditions for chimney sweeps at that time, many of whom were small children sold into what can only be called slavery. But the book is not without hope, and the monster is not so much a monster as he is a friend and guardian. And the protagonist, Nan, is a force of nature, a girl to be reckoned with.

The Stone Girl’s Story by Sarah Beth Durst. The Stone Girl’s Story reads like a supposition: “Let us suppose world in which stone creatures can come to life, and someone wants to enslave and control the stone creatures. Then imagine what might happen.” And it’s a very good supposition.

Endling #1: The Last by Katherine Applegate. Byx is the youngest and most vulnerable member of the dairne pack in a world where dairnes are about to become extinct. There aren’t many of these dog-like but intelligent and communicating creatures left in the world, and Byx doesn’t know whether to believe the legends and rumor that other dairne packs exist in the far off north or not. When she is forced by circumstances to leave home, Byx goes on a journey to find out whether she is the last of the dairnes or not.

Thisby Thestoop and the Black Mountain by Zac Gorman. Thisby complains (to herself and to her slime friend who lives in a jar) about all the tasks involved in caring for all the monsters—wyverns and ghouls and were-creatures and more—who live in the dungeons under the Black Mountain, but it’s her job as assistant gamekeeper. And THisby is good at her job. Nevertheless, when Thisby has to take care of a spoiled Princess Iphigenia and her twin brother, and then the brother gets lost, it’s just too much. It’s a good thing Thisby keeps good notes on the care and feeding of all the monsters. She’s going to need them to get herself and the princess out of this mess.

The Lost Books: The Scroll of Kings by Sarah Prineas. Alex knows he’s meant to be a Librarian, even though no one will give him any training or tell him the secrets of librarians. And Queen Kenneret is meant to be, well, queen, even though her advisors don’t take her too seriously either. Together Alex and Kenneret must save the kingdom from whatever it is that is scaring the books and killing librarians—without being killed themselves or losing patience with each other. Alex is hard-headed and insubordinate; Kenneret is determined and authoritative. Will they manage to put up with one another long enough to figure out what is attacking the libraries and how to fix or defeat it?

Grump: The (Fairly) True Tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves by Liesl Shurtliff. This book is the best yet of the fairy tale retakes by Liesl Shurtliff. Grump is a misfit who hates the underground life of his family and fellow dwarves. He actually wants to see what life is like on the surface, even though the surface is a dangerous place for dwarves.

Nevermoor: The Trials of Morrigan Crow by Jessica Townsend. Morrigan Crow is a cursed child, born on Eventide, blamed for all of the misfortunes and tragedies that occur anywhere in her neighborhood, and doomed to die on her eleventh birthday. She’s sure that she has no gift, no talent to set her apart, and no place or reason to hope for anything, especially not a place in the magical Wundrous Society. Nevertheless, Morrigangets a chance to compete for a spot in the Wundrous Society. Will she be chosen?

R Is for Rebel by J. Anderson Coats. Mallianne Pirine Vinnio Aurelia Hesperus is a member of an outcast group of people, the Mileans, but even among her own people, imprisoned, Malley is different because of her rebellious, untamed spirit. She will not be reformed or reeducated or domesticated, and even the girls who are her fellow prisoners fear the trouble that Malley brings in her rebellious wake.

The Adventures of a Girl Called Bicycle by Christina Uss. Bicycle, a foundling who has grown up at the Mostly Silent monastery in Washington, D.C., is now twelve years old, a lover of cycling, and in need of a good friend. But she’s not likely to find a friend either at the monastery where the monks are limited to eight sacred words or at the Friendship Factory, a camp where she is guaranteed to make three friends or else. So, Bicycle sets off on her own, with her trusty bicycle, to make her own friends in her own way.

A Dastardly Plot (A Perilous Journey of Danger and Mayhem #1) by Christopher Healy. I like Christopher Healy’s Hero’s Guide trilogy, and I like this new series just a as much. Feminist, alternate history, inventors, skulduggery and mystery—what more could one ask for in a middle grade romp?

Nadya Skylung and the Cloudship Rescue by Jeff Seymour. This novel A is another good beginning to what looks as if it will be an exciting series. Nadya is a “skylung” who can breathe through her lungs and through gills, and she is a very important crew member on the cloudship, Orion. The illustrations in this fantasy/science fiction adventure are by Brett Helquist, one of my favorite illustrators, which makes the book even more delightful.

Inkling by Kenneth Oppel. An ink blot escapes its page and comes alive. While learning and growing, Inkling helps Ethan, who needs to learn to draw, his dad, who needs to get un-stuck from his writer’s/illustrator’s block, and little sister Sarah, who just wants a puppy. Such fun, with a realistic but sympathetic portrayal of both depression (dad) and Down’s syndrome (Sarah).

Baker’s Dozen: Best Nonfiction I Read in 2018

Jan4

Old Friends by Tracy Kidder.

Unveiling Grace: The Story of How We Found Our Way out of the Mormon Church by Lynn K. Wilder.

Heaven Without Her: A Desperate Daughter’s Search for the Heart of Her Mother’s Faith by Kitty Foth-Regner.

Educated by Tara Westover. Tara Westover, either bravely or contemptibly, tells the story of her struggle to educate herself in the face of her father’s seeming mental illness and her mother’s obliviousness to the truth as well as Tara’s horrific abuse at the hands of her older brother.

The Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women by Kate Moore. Female factory workers contract radiation poisoning from painting watch dials with self-luminous paint. This book tells the story of their struggle to survive and to obtain help and just compensation from the employers who knew the workers were being poisoned even as they generated large profits for the companies they served.

First Lady of the Theatre: Sarah Siddons by Molly Costain Haycraft. Ms. Siddons was “the best-known tragedienne of the 18th century.” This Messner biography tells the story of her life.

The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit by Michael Finkel.

In Order to Live: A North Korean Girl’s Journey to Freedom by Yeonmi Park. A harrowing story of escape from North Korea’s nationwide prison.

Sent to the River God Forgot by Jim and Janice Walton. Jim and Janice Walton translate the New Testament into the Muinane language in spite of many obstacles, both physical and cultural.

The Wizard and the Prophet: Two Remarkable Scientists and Their Dueling Visions to Shape Tomorrow’s World by Charles C. Mann. An informative and insightful attempt to remain objective in reporting on two very different visions for saving the world: scientism versus environmentalism. Although both ways have pieces of the truth, I think there is a third way that combines the best of both worlds without their blind spots.

A Passion for the Impossible: The Life of Lilias Trotter by Miriam Huffman Rockness. A fascinating look at a fascinating woman. With the opportunity, according to her friend and mentor John Ruskin, to become a great and celebrated artist, Lilias Trotter instead chose to serve those least able to appreciate her gifts, the native people of Algeria. Did she waste her life and her talent? Read about her life and decide for yourself.

I’d Rather Be Reading: The Delights and Dilemmas of the Reading Life by Anne Bogel. Essays on the joys and trials of the reading life.

Proverbs by J. Vernon McGee. I like all of the commentaries in the Bible teaching series by Back to the Bible radio teacher, J. Vernon McGee.