In The Letter from Death, Lillian Moats personifies Death as the author of a letter explaining how a historical misperception of death has created all kinds of problems for mankind, primarily war. Death counsels its readers that there is no Hell to be afraid of, no Heaven to hope for, no “good” or “evil” - just differences - so people should stop fighting and just learn to get along. Death suggests that it would be easier to all get along if children were nurtured better by allowing them to vent their anger instead of bottling up negative emotions.

According to her publisher, the book is intended to be a “politically charged” polemic on “unnecessary war, injustice and self-destruction.” What it is is 128 pages of enormous conclusions – in overwrought language – that Moats admits in her later notes depend on selectivity, sarcasm, “purposeful reductionism,” and a “biting tone.” To argue the points she makes would be to argue everything – religion, philosophy, human nature, the causes of war, and the future of the planet. A book that only takes an hour to read does not warrant that level of attention.

Full review on Rose City Reader.

Ian McEwan’s 1990 novel, The Innocent, is a flawed but absorbing transition between McEwan’s earlier works and his later novels. The book is set in post-war, pre-wall Berlin, where 25-year-old Leonard Marnham is a British post office technician assigned to a secret spy mission (based on an actual Anglo-American joint spy effort). He falls in love with Maria Eckdorf, a German divorcee, five years older than him. When things go wrong, they go horribly, sickeningly wrong. Yet McEwan deftly shows how each step down the slippery slope was justifiable and even necessary for the two lovers.

Full review posted on Rose City Reader.

C. M. Mayo’s The Last Prince of the Mexican Empire is the historically accurate, fictionalized account of Emperor Maximilian’s short reign over Mexico in the 1860s. Mayo’s hook is Maximilian’s “adoption” of the half-American grandson of the first Emperor of Mexico, General Agustín de Iturbide. The childless Maximilian makes the toddler his “heir apparent” to help shore up Mexican support for his French-backed regime, bribing the parents with pensions and promises of aristocratic lives in Paris – a bargain the Inturbides soon regret.

But the book is more than simply the story of the Iturbide family. It encompasses Maximilian’s entire, brief reign, from his forced relinquishment of family rights as a Hapsburg and Archduke of Austria when he accepted the Mexican crown from Louis Napoleon, to his wife Charlotte’s crack up, and his ultimate defeat at the hands of Mexican nationalists. Mayo spent years researching the story of Maximilian and the Inturbides, focusing on obscure primary source materials stashed away in historical archives.

It is an ambitious book for tackling such a complicated little sliver of history, and Mayo brings her historic characters to life with a compelling story for a modern audience.

Complete review posted on Rose City Reader.

In Towers of Gold, Frances Dinkelspiel explores the history of California, using Hellman – her great-great-grandfather – as a compass. As the subtitle explains, this is the story of “How One Jewish Immigrant Named Isaias Hellman Created California.” Hellman soon outgrew his modest storefront, going on to become a banker and financier with his hand in the industries that shaped California.

The book moves along at a good clip, written in a clear, journalistic style that reflects Dinkelspiel’s decades in the newspaper business. Although Dinkelspiel is related to Hellman, Towers of Gold is no mere family memoir, of interest only to Hellman’s scattered descendants. She keeps her eye on the bigger picture, looking first at economically significant events such as bringing the railroad to Los Angeles, starting the University of Southern California in Los Angeles and the University of California in Berkeley, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, and the discovery of oil in Southern California, and then explaining Hellman’s significant role in each of these events.

Full review posted on Rose City Reader.

In Native America Discovered and Conquered, law professor Robert J. Miller examines how the international law concept now referred to as the “Doctrine of Discovery” applied to America’s westward expansion. Miller explains how the principles of the doctrine – developed by Spanish and Portuguese explorers in the 1400s and formally adopted in America in the 1823 Supreme Court case of Johnson v. M’Intosh – influenced Thomas Jefferson’s expansionist plans, delineated Lewis and Clark’s duties, and grew into the policy of Manifest Destiny.

Full review posted on Rose City Reader.

In her accessible “citizen’s guide” to health care reform, Sally Pipes examines The Top Ten Myths of American Health Care and offers several patient-driven ideas for change. Pipes looks past the partisan rhetoric to explain, for example, what “46 million uninsured Americans” really means, why importing drugs cannot work, and how expanded Medicaid-type programs would make a bad situation worse.

Pipes, a Canadian native, is her most persuasive when she scrutinizes Canada’s and other nationalized medical systems. Relying on her extensive research and personal experience, she spells out why long waits, restricted access to new medications, and doctors on government payrolls are not the solution to America’s problems.

In the debate over health care, Pipes has definitely chosen her side, championing free-market reforms such as allowing the interstate purchase of health insurance and revising the tax code to encourage individually-purchased, instead of employer-provided, insurance. But Pipes is no ranting demagogue. Her arguments are concise and supported by solid research as she tries deal rationally with an issue often freighted with emotion.

While aimed at policy-makers, The Top Ten Myths is lively enough for general consumption. Good reading for anyone interesting in going beyond the soundbites and understanding some of the details of health care reform.

First posted on Rose City Reader

There is plenty to love about Debra Ollivier’s Entre Nous: A Woman’s Guide to Finding Her Inner French Girl, but you have to take is with a grain of sel. French women are justifiably famous for their poise, style, and general savoir-faire, so there is appeal in a book that sets out to teach American women how to emulate their Gallic sisters.

But the sisterhood Ollivier holds up as a model is laughably elite. The ‘French girl’ she describes lives in Paris, works at some chi chi job like ‘restor[ing] the muted shades of an eighteenth century fresco,’ and has a family chateau in a medieval village in Dordogne. That would be like saying a typical ‘American girl’ is a San Francisco magazine editor with a family vineyard in Napa, or a handbag designer in Manhattan who escapes to the 25-room family ‘cottage’ Down East for the summer.

But if you can accept Ollivier’s idealized vision of the emblematic French female – which spills over to a generally romanticized view of all things French, especially its socialized economy – you can appreciate her suggestions on how to attain the je ne sais quoi French women do seem to enjoy.

Full review posted on Rose City Reader.

Blackbird, Farewell is the seventh novel in Robert Greer’s mystery series featuring bail bondsman C.J. Floyd. The specs look good – set in Denver instead of a more typical mystery locale; a hero who is neither a cop nor a lawyer (and, in this installment, out of town on his honeymoon, leaving his female, ex-Marine partner and an amateur-sleuth sidekick to solve the case); several entrenched characters, mostly from Denver’s old-school African American community; and the double homicide of a Pulitzer-winning journalist and a freshly-minted NBA star.

Great set up. The problem is in the execution. This reads like a first novel, not a seventh. The narrative is clunky, making it almost impossible to be absorbed in the story. Greer tries to pack too much back story into single sentences, leaving them unnavigable on a single read through.

Full review posted on Rose City Reader.

Overall, I enjoyed this book. I liked the whole idea of the seasonal cooking (sort of like Animal, Vegetable, Miracle but without the lecturing), the stories about the family and their traditions are interesting, and the pictures are absolutely beautiful. But the recipes themselves were a little disappointing. They may be authentic, but they are pretty pedestrian – the standard Midwest recipes you find in every church auxiliary cookbook.

Full review posted on Rose City Reader.