This Week at the Library (17/6)

Books this Update:

• The History of Science in the 18th Century, Ray Spangenburg & Diane Moser
• More Tales of the Black Widowers, Isaac Asimov
• god is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, Christopher Hitchens
• The Selfish Gene, Richard Dawkins

This week I continued my foray into the history of science by reading The History of Science In the 18th Century, second in this series (beginning with The History of Science From the Ancient Greeks to the Scientific Revolution). The authors, Ray Spangenburg and Diane Moser, continue to impress me. My local library carries a number of books by them, and I predict that I'm going to be reading them all. One of their books -- sadly not available at my local library -- is a Carl Sagan biography. Spangenburg and another of his co-authors, Kit Moser, have a website that you can view here.

The book begins with a prologue, briefly summarizing where "science" was at the beginning of the 1700s. The name of this series is "On the Shoulders of Giants", originating from Newton's statement that 'If I have seen farther it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants." This is fitting because Newton's various theories allow science to progress further and faster than it ever has before. His laws of motions and insights into optics make people realize that all of nature is governed by laws, and that these laws can be figured out by human beings if we are observant, clever, and imaginative enough. The idea of a "clockwork universe" emerges, and from it emerges Deism. Science in the latter half of the 18th century is influenced by political and technological revolutions -- namely, the French and American revolutions and the Industrial Revolution. This means, of course, that science and history are inescapably tied together -- which is a joy for me to realize in full given my interest in both.

The book is, if you will excuse the pun, enlightening. The connections to history have already been mentioned, but the authors put a lot of emphasis on Newton's importance. I knew he was considered important, but had not realized the full scope of his contributions' importance. I will certainly be continuing this series, and will as mentioned look for further books by these authors.

Next I read god is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything. I said last week that I wasn't particularly interested in reading a book on atheism. As it turns out, though, this book isn't about atheism: it's about the damage that religion can cause. While the book's title resonated with me a year ago, I've softened a bit since then and I'm more concerned with actually communicating with people. I think the book's title will serve to alienate more people than its message will serve. This is not necessarily the fault of its author: the root cause is that people aren't as receptive to listening to ideas when they've just been insulted. It strikes me as vain for whatever reason, but then I'm one who will read something precisely because it's insulting.

Hitchens begins the book by describing his break from religion, which happened in childhood as a result of him observing four things, although I'm certain that Christopher Hitchens as a child articulated these things with fewer and simpler words:

"There still remain four irreducible objections to religious faith: that it wholly misrepresents the origins of man and the cosmos, that because of this original error it manages to combine the maximum of servility with the maximum of solipsism, that it is both the result and the cause of dangerous sexual repression, and that it is ultimately grounded on wish-thinking."

That one sentence is more obnoxious in tone than the tone of the rest of the book: it's really not stuffy at all. Hitchens goes on to discuss various topics that elaborate on that original summation. The various topics Hitchens covers are too various to be comfortably summarized, so I'll simply provide you with a list of chapter subjects: : "Religion Kills", "A Short Digression on the Pig", "A Note on Health", "The Metaphysical claims of Religion are False", "Arguments from Design", the Hebrew scriptures, the New Testament, the Koran, miracles, Hell, "Religion's Corrupt Beginnings", "How Religions End", "Does Religion Make People Behave Better", eastern religions, "The Last Ditch 'Case' Against Secularism", "A Finer Tradition: the Resistance of the Rational" and it concludes with "The Need for a New Enlightenment".

I think the listing of the chapter titles should tell you whether you want to read this book, regardless of your own personal beliefs. If you're religious and fair-minded, you should be interested. Despite the book's provocative title, I think its contents are fair. Its contents are also hilarious. Here's one passage I was particularly delighted with:

With a necessary part of its collective mind, religion looks forward to the destruction of the world. […] This has been a constant trope, ever since the first witch doctors and shamans learned to predict eclipses […] to the best-selling pulp-fiction Left Behind series, which, ostensibly "authored" by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins, was apparently generated by the old expedient of letting two orangutans loose on a word processor."

You may not be able to appreciate the humor in that if you've not read the Left Behind books. I've read all sixteen and they're hilariously awful. On that note, I will promote once again Slacktivist's running commentary on the books. The Slacktivist blog is run by a Christian, by the way: that those books are bad is not just the contention of a religious cynic like myself.

Moving on to something less controversial, I next read Isaac Asimov's More Tales of the Black Widowers. This is a collection of short stories, although I had no idea what they were about until I began reading the book. Asimov introduces the book himself, and here is a portion of that:

"I don't think there's much more to say about the Black Widowers than I've already said in Tales of the Black Widowers. That was the first book in the series and the one you're now holding is the second.

In that first introduction, I explained that the Black Widowers was inspired by a real club, to which I belong, which is called the Trap Door Spiders. I won't tell you anymore about that here because if you've read Tales of the Black Widowers you'd just be bored by the repetition, and if you haven't read it I'd rather leave you in the agony of curiosity so that you will then be driven to buy the first book and repair the omission. […] That's all I have to say now, but lest you rejoice too quickly at being rid of me, I must warn you that I will appear again in a short afterward following each of the stories."

My favorite part of reading Asimov's short-story collections is his introductions and afterwords. They reflect so much of his humor and gentle charm that reading his personal comments is often more enjoyable than the stories themselves. As for the stories, they are puzzle stories; mysteries of a sort. Essentially, the Black Widowers always meet once a month for supper, and each month they are joined by a guest who invariably presents them with a puzzle to solve. Sometimes this is intentional, the guest having been invited just so he can enjoy the advice they offer. Sometimes the puzzle emerges accidentally, such as in "Nothing Like Murder". The guest is a Soviet scientist who expresses his amazement that in New York people openly plan murders. When he is asked what he means by this, the scientist responds that while he and a comrade were sitting on a bench near a university, he overheard two young men plotting a murder. The Widowers express their doubts that college students would plan a murder openly like that, and the story is about the Widowers trying to sort out what exactly transpired, using the Soviet's memory of what they said. Ultimately they figure it out, and it turns out to be harmless. The guests that join the Widowers range from Soviet scientists to puritanical Christians: they don't fit stereotypes. I found each story to engaging, and recommend the book. It's good stuff, especially if you like trying to figure things out. I actually managed to figure out one story's solution before the Widowers did, which was heartening.

Lastly I read Ricard Dawkins' The Selfish Gene, published in 1976. This is the third time I have tried reading this book. Out of curiosity, I looked at the book's "Due Date" slip affixed to the back cover, which serve as an indicator of when the book has been checked out. This particular copy of The Selfish Gene has been checked out six times:
16 October 1996
13 December 2000
26 January 2002
15 August 2006
31 October 2006
24 June 2008

Now, naturally, the book wasn't checked out on those dates: in each instance, it was checked out two weeks prior. The last three due dates are my own. 2006 was a monumental year for me: it's the year everything changed. It was the year that I rediscovered a delight in simply learning things -- when the library opened up an immense world for me. This was the year I discovered authors like Carl Sagan. By late summer of 2006, I was growing more and more aggressive in my reading, trying to expand my knowledge. Around that time I heard of Richard Dawkins and checked out two of his books -- Unweaving the Rainbow and The Selfish Gene. I finished Unweaving the Rainbow, but only got half-way through The Selfish Gene. Evidently, I checked it out a couple of months later, hoping to finish it, but I don't remember making any progress in that second attempt. Since then, and until now, the book has remained in the back of my mind. Every time I see it on the library bookshelf, I am reminded that it and I have unfinished business.

I should say "had", as I finished the book. It was published in 1976 and introduced Richard Dawkins to the world of popular science. He has since then become a prolific science author, and I have read a number of his books -- The Ancestor's Tale, The River Out of Eden, Climbing Mount Improbable, and so on. Dawkins is one of my favorite scientists, as I often hear him in interviews and see his lectures online. The Selfish Gene advocates a gene-centered view of evolution, which is why it took me so long to read it. My brain doesn't like genetics. To finish this book, I had to clear the major hurdle of the introductory chapters, where Dawkins explains how what genes and chromosomes are and how they work. Thanks in part to the biological knowledge I have accumulated through a lot of reading in the past two years and a lot of determination, I was able to clear that hurdle and the rest of the book was…easier. There were some chapters ("Aggression: Stability and the Selfish Machine", "Battle of the Sexes", "Memes: the New Replicators) that were easy for me to get, and there were some ("The Long Reach of the Gene", "Immortal Coils") that were harder.

The chapter on memes was particularly interesting. A meme is an idea that is transmitted from being to being -- from the songs of birds to the religions and philosophies of human beings. Dawkins says "When we die there are two things we can live behind us: genes and memes. We were built as gene machines, created to pass on our genes. But that aspect of us will be forgotten in three generations. […] Our genes may be immortal but the collection of genes that is any one of us is bound to crumble away. Elizabeth II is a direct descendant of William the Conqueror. Yet it is quite probable that she bears not a single one of the old king's genes. […] But if you contribute to the world's culture, if you have a good idea, compose a tune, invent a sparking plug, write a poem, it may live on, intact, long after your genes have dissolved in the common pool. Socrates may or may not have a gene or two alive in the world today, as G.C. Williams has remarked, but who cares? The meme-complexes of Socrates, Leonardo, Copernicus, and Marconi are still going strong." (p. 199, 9th edition.)

I like this passage because it supports my own view of heritage. I do not count my heritage as being genetic, and for good reasons. My genetic heritage doesn't matter a bit. The paternal ancestor whose last name I carry hailed from Germany. While many people are proud to be German -- and there's no reason not to be, because Germany has contributed much to western culture -- it would be rather silly of me to be proud of this. As Dawkins so eloquently points out, even if I was a direct descendant of Frederick II, it is likely that he and I have no genes in common. What links he and I is that we may hold some of the same ideas -- we both value learning and religious tolerance, for instance. This is the same thing that links myself and Robert Ingersoll, or myself and Marcus Aurelius. This is easier for me to realize, being American, because I share that distinction with people who don't look a thing like me: we are alike because of the ideas we live by, namely the ideas of the Constitution.

Pick of the Week: Undoubtedly, The History of Science in the 18th Century.
Quotation of the Week: "Violent, irrational, intolerant, allied to racism and tribalism and bigotry, invested in ignorance and hostile to free inquiry, contemptuous of women and coercive toward children: organized religion ought to have a great deal on its conscience." (god is not Great, Christopher Hitchens, p. 56)

That concludes this week's reading. What's next? Well, my library carries Tales of the Black Widowers, which I've never read in spite of reading its sequel. I will have to "remedy the omission", in Asimov's words. I'll be continuing the history of science series by Spangenburg. Jeff Shaara recently released The Steel Wave, which is a sequel to his The Rising Tide, which I read last year and commented on here*. I also have a couple of recommendations to look into: No Ordinary Time, which appears to a joint biography of Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, and The Blank Slate by Steven Pinker.




*Amusingly enough, in the same post that I commented on The Rising Tide, I said that I wouldn't read history of the Roosevelts. It appears that I'm about to.

This Week at the Library

Books in this Update:

• The Origin of Species, Charles Darwin
• The History of Science from the Ancient Greeks to the Scientific Revolution, Ray Spangenburg
• Charles Darwin: the Naturalist Who Started a Scientific Revolution, Cyril Aydon

I began this week with The Origin of Species, by Charles Darwin. I read this book for historical, rather than scientific, reasons. I imagine that it is of little use as a scientific text today as it was published in 1859 -- before heredity and DNA were discovered. I decided to read it to see what the book was like, since it caused such a sensation in its day. I would do the same for other historically important texts -- The Wealth of Nations, The Communist Manifesto, The Jungle, etc. As a student of history, and a fledging student of the history of science in particular, I'm quite interested in this book. It also helps to be armed with facts for those chance encounters with fundamentalists who are prone to saying "Darwin said…". I figure if I read The Origin of Species, I could call them on their BS promptly. (Some people hunt. I call BS. We all have our sports.)

The Origin of Species, despite being written in the Victorian era, is actually rather readable. The edition of the book I'm reading features commentary (sometimes corrective) to help put things into perspective. While Darwin's book introduced the idea of descent with modification to a larger audience than the Royal Society, his chapter on "The Struggle for Existence" bespeaks of ecology to me. I do not know enough about the history of ecology to say if many naturalists had observed it, Darwin certainly did. Take, for instance, this passage:

I am tempted to give one more instance showing how plants and animals are bound together by a web of complex relations. I find from experience that [b]umblebees are almost indispensable to the fertilisation of the heartsease and some kinds of clover. [B]umblebees alone visit red clover, as other bees cannot reach the nectar. Hence we may infer that, if the whole genus of [b]umble-bees became extinct or very rare in England, the heartsease and red clover would become very rare, or wholly disappear. The number of [b]umblebees in any district depends in a great measure on the number of field-mice, which destroy their combs and nests. Now the number of mice is largely dependent on the number of field mice, which destroy their combs and nests. Now the number of mice is largely dependent […] on the number of cats; and as Col. Newman says, 'Near villages and small towns I have found the nest of [b]umblebees more numerous than elsewhere, which I attribute to the number of cats that destroy the mice.' Hence it is quite credible that the presence of feline animals in large numbers might determine, through the intervention from mice and then of bees, the frequency of certain flowers in that district. "

How else to describe ecology rather than 'plants and animals bound together by a web of complex relations'? Wikipedia says that "ecology" was coined in 1866, and that its founder was Eugenius Warming. I may read more on ecology later on; it's an interesting topic. Most of the chapters are fairly interesting. I thought "Instinct" was a little dull, but other chapters, like "Geographical Distribution", made up for it. That chapter was particular interesting, as Darwin describes his experiences in probing to see how seeds could be transferred from one island to the next. Three methods he came up with were (1) seeds carried by seawater, (2) seeds in dirt clumps attached to natural debris that is shuffled from island to island through the currents, and (3) through animal scat, since birds can often be blown hundreds of miles from their natural routes by prevailing winds. Darwin actually tests these ideas -- submerging seeds in seawater to see if they would germinate, liberating seeds from animal feces and successfully planting them, etc. The man was meticulous.

Next I read The History of Science from the Greeks to the Scientific Revolution. I am enjoying a growing interest in the history of scientific thought. It combines my lifelong interest in history and a newly awakened and burgeoning affection for science rather nicely. This book was quite excellent, I thought, in presenting its information. The book is divided into three parts. The first starts the development of natural philosophy in the Greek world and its progression and moves through the death of the classical world to the rebirth of knowledge in the medieval era with Copernicus. As I read about Copernicus and Galileo (who promoted Copernicus' idea of heliocentrism), it struck me that all Copernicus had to substantiate his claim that the Earth and planets moved around the Sun rather than the reverse was simple math. All either Copernicus or Galileo could do was observe the movement of the planets and other celestial happenings and say "This is what we think is happening. It seems to fit the facts at hand." There was no hard, undeniable evidence outside of the math, and there wouldn't be until the space age. Imagine that! For hundreds of years, people were taught that the Earth moved around the sun not through undeniable evidence but through simple rational and math. As I read about this, I realized that the same was true for both Darwin and Mendel. Darwin spent years observing the natural world, just as Copernicus and Galileo observed the heavens, and then made an observation. As I found out in a later reading, Darwin's initial title for The Origin of Species began with "An Abstract of an Essay On…". Darwin's idea was just that, an idea: a mental abstraction, just like Copernicus'. Here's where it gets interesting: Darwin saw natural selection as the basis for evolution, but had no idea what made that work. How did parents pass on traits to their children -- faster limbs, bigger brains, etc? Mendel figured that out when he realized what we now call genetics, but he lacked the tools to find the actual genes that were doing what he described. Later on, DNA was discovered, meshing Darwin, Mendel, and Watson's discoveries together. I find this sequence of events uncommonly fascinating. Anyway, after finishing the introduction, the book is split into two more sections: the physical sciences and the life sciences. Both are interesting in themselves. The history of medicine isn't something I know a lot about other than what I learned in Theories for Everything, but this book's section contained a wealth of information. Speaking of Theories for Everything, I wonder if the thrilling narrative presented by that book is what prompted my interest in the history of science?

Next, I read Charles Darwin: the Naturalist Who Started a Scientific Revolution. I found this book and the one preceding it by searching for "scientific revolution" at my local library in the interests of expanding my knowledge of the history of science. It's a biography of Charles Darwin. I recently watched a video that piqued my curiosity about the life of Charles Darwin, and specifically the voyage of the Beagle. As far as narratives go, I have to say this one is excellent. Biographies can be dull despite being about an interesting personality, but this book is anything but dull. The author presents a lively telling of Darwin's life, drawing conclusions about why he was able to do what he did based on his surroundings. The book concludes by saying that Darwin was marvelously fortunate. He was born into the landed gentry, which made his life as a naturalist much easier. His father supported him financially, allowing him to spend his time doing research and writing. He married a woman who gave him immense emotional support, and he was able to surround himself with some of the leading minds of the day, who inspired and encouraged him. This book gave me new insight into Darwin and his book. I got a good laugh when perusing the "Suggested Reading". The author mentions Richard Dawkins' The Blind Watchmaker, and says that Dawkins has taken Alfred Huxely's role as "Darwin's bulldog". The author says that 'like Huxeley, he is a tremendous popularizer [of science], and like Huxeley he takes no prisoners.' That's one way to characterize Richard Dawkins: a bit like saying FDR had a way with speeches.

I have other books -- namely, The History of the Ancient World, Modern Germany: Its History and Civilization, and Biology: Demystified. However, each presents problems: the first two are large, while the last is a self-teaching book, and as such I cannot read it straight through. I have to re-read sections to make sure I remember everything. I checked out Biology: Demystified in the interests of helping me better understand biology (as you might imagine) and thus far it is -- although I do have problems with the book, which I will elaborate on should I finish it and include it here.
Instead of trying to make more progress with those larger books, I decided to visit the library today (I had the day off of work because we had no work to do) and fetch some other books. I began with The History of Science in the 18th Century, which is the second book in the series that The History of Science […] to the Scientific Revolution began. Next I checked out Christopher Hitchens' god is not Great: How Religion Ruins Everything. I should note that I have read Hitchens before (his biography of Thomas Jefferson) and didn't really like his tone, which seemed to be…overly academic. I've seen the guy in interviews and enjoy him there, but not in that book. You can probably guess the book's theme from its title. I'm only reading it to say I have: I'm actually not interested in books about atheism. It does get old.

Next I'm reading -- or attempting to read -- Richard Dawkins' The Selfish Gene. I have tried to read this book twice before, only to be stymied by the fact that my brain yelps and hides under the couch when it encounters genetics. I know a smidge more about genetics now than I do the last time I read this book two years ago, but as evidenced by the slow progress I am making in Biology: Demystified, this subject does not come easily to me. I've heard that the third time's the charm, but even if I can't get through it, I will try again. I will continue trying to read the book until (1) I die or (2) Athena tells me not to. I don't know how long I have before case one is reached, but I doubt case 2 will be realized any time soon. Why am I so determined to read this book? Because I tried once, and failed. I won't have it said of me at my funeral that a book got the better of me -- even if it was written by an Oxford professor.

Next I checked out a book on Greek mythology and I finished my round with a collection of short stories by Isaac Asimov. I think that's everything. I was thrilled to find the Asimov collection: I was concerned that I had read all of his short-story collections at the library.

This Week at the Library (15/5)

Books this Update:
- In at the Death, Harry Turtledove
- Fatherland, Robert Harris
- Garden of Beasts, Jeffery Deaver
- Playing for Pizza, John Grisham
- The Two Georges, Harry Turtledove and Richard Dreyfuss

My first read this week was In at the Death by Harry Turtledove, which completes his "Southern Victory" series that began with How Few Remain. As you might recall, "President" Jake Featherston of the Confederacy invaded the United States in 1941, only to realize that the Union isn't as big of a pushover as his electorate. The result is a war of economies -- one that Featherston cannot hope to win without superior technology, like bombs that can destroy whole cities. This book ends the series with two continents devastated by war and dealing with the dawn of the Nuclear Age.

In general I found the series to be enjoyable reading. As a student of history, I enjoyed looking for the parallels Turtledove attempted to draw to the real world and thinking about the world he was fashioning. I found that some things didn't make that much sense, but all in all I have no real complaints. I noticed that technology seemed to advance more quickly in this series than in real life -- specifically in terms of airplanes. An example of this is the advancement of bomber technology in the "Great War". In real life, bombers did little actual damage -- but in the books, even WW1 planes are capable of bombing cities into ruins.

Next I read Fatherland, which is an mystery novel by Robert Harris set in an alternate history setting. In Fatherland, Nazi Germany succeeded in winning the Second World War. This success came about partially because of Nazi Germany's triumph over the Soviet Union. I'm not altogether sure that this alone would have given Germany victory -- it failed to in 1917, when Russia withdrew from the Great War, surrendering most of the territory Nazi Germany gained in this fictional timeline. It's a moot point, though. The book is set in 1964. Nazi Germany controls Europe in the same way the USSR controlled eastern Europe, with the exception that western countries are allowed to pretend that they're free -- when in reality they're subject to Nazi Germany's every whim. A cold war exists between the United States and Nazi Germany, but the aging Hitler wants to ease tensions for a reason I've forgotten at the moment. U.S. President Joseph P. Kennedy announces a visit to Berlin, and this sets the stage for the book. A German police officer is startled to realize that a murder he is investigating is tied to a string of murders. All of the "victims" are former Nazi high-ups who are being eliminated for some mysterious reason. It is the job of Officer March to find out what.

I thoroughly enjoyed the book, reading through it fairly quickly. The characters are solid, and the plot makes sense. I never felt lost. The book has been written with a great eye for detail, using actual historical documents as Officer March's evidence. There are lots of little touches: for instance, March mentions a symphony being conducted by Herbert von Karajan, who was in real life an Austrian national who conducted the Berlin Philharmonic for many years. He was also a member of Austria's Nazi party, although I don't know how involved in it he was. Outside of the point of derivation, I didn't see any really questionable developments in world politics in this alternate-history setting, although I am curious as to how the aging Kennedy became president.

Next I read Garden of Beasts, which is a mystery novel by Jeffery Deaver set in 1936 Berlin. I found this book and Fatherland by doing a search at my local library for "Berlin". I'm interested in the history and culture of select cities, and found these two books in the same way that I found Philip Margolin's books while looking for information about Portland. In Garden of Beasts, a German-American hitman is hired by individuals working on behalf of the U.S. government to travel to Germany and eliminate the man responsible for Nazi Germany's rearmament. That I describe this novel as a mystery novel and not adventure should tell you that the above description is not nearly complete. I was thoroughly entertained by the book, and will look for this author more. 1936, by the way, is the year the Olympics were held in Berlin. As you can imagine, the Nazis are eager that nothing sensational should happen.

I should mention John Grisham's Playing for Pizza, which I read back in December but for some reason never thought to write about until I wrote about The Appeal. Playing for Pizza is a fairly short book, and was published right before The Appeal. As you might suspect, it is not a legal thriller. If you've read Bleachers or The Broker and liked either, you'll probably like this one. An American football player with reputation for screwing up under pressure finds an opportunity to play football in the unlikeliest of places: Europe, specifically Italy. Italy, like Europe and the rest of the world (except for the United States) is dominated by soccer -- with little demand for American football. There are clubs (or at least there are in Grisham's world: I don't know if there are in reality, but I figure Grisham wrote the book out of his shocked discovery that Italians played American football.) in Italy. The men playing in these clubs do so only for fun, but Rick (the aforementioned American) will be paid. The book is about Rick and his move to Italy and his acclimating himself to a new culture. This is why I figure those who like either Bleachers or The Broker will like Playing for Pizza. Bleachers is about football, and The Broker is set in Italy and features an American getting used to Italy while fleeing for his life. The highest praise I can give this book is that Grisham is actually able to keep me interested in a book about football. John Grisham is one of my favorite authors, and this book doesn't disappoint.

The next book I read was The Two Georges, a book set in an alternate history in which George Washington traveled to England on behalf of the colonies in the 1760s, obtaining a fair deal for the colonies. The result is a world radically different from ours, where the sun never sets on the British Empire. The Crown possesses North America, Australia, and India while keeping the Ottomans, Chinese, and Hawaii within its sphere of influence. Opposing it are the Holy Alliance (an alliance between France and Spain, with various holdings across the world including "New Spain" in Central America) and the Russian Empire. France's revolution was spoiled by one Lt. Col. Bonaparte. Although the book seems to be set in the mid 1990s (judging by a recent major earthquake in San Francisco and that a wine produced in the early 1980s is just now starting to come into season), neither Germany nor Italy are united. Technology has also progressed more slowly, it seems, and much differently. Cars, for instance, use steam engines and are referred to as "steamers". Strangely enough, electric cars are also mentioned. Airships are used for commercial flights, not fixed-wing aircraft -- even though the latter are available. Although the television is starting to become commercially available, telephone technology is very limited. These changes are largely unexplained. While I can understand the political developments of this worlds, the technological ones are beyond me. Why has technology in general progressed so slowly in this world? That I don't know.

The Two Georges refers to a painting that shows Colonel George Washington bowing before his sovereign, and is symbolic of the strong relationship between Great Britain and its dominion in North America, the North American Union. The NAU enjoys something in the way of autonomy, although its head (Governor-General) is appointed by the king. The head of the NAU in this book is one Martin Luther King Jr. Sadly, his father changed his name to Martin Luther in honor of said brute in this timeline, too. At the beginning of the book, the painting is stolen, leading Colonel Bushell of the Royal American Mounted Police (RAMs) across the continent as he searches for the culprits. The likely culprits are the Sons of Freedom, white supremacists who double as fanatical separatists. In general I found it a fun read, although I was able to realize the ending before Colonel Bushell.

Pick of the Week: Garden of Beasts, Jeffery Deaver

Next week: I am knee-deep in a variety of history texts, including two I mentioned last week (History of the Ancient World and Modern Germany: Its History and Civilization).

This Week at the Library (2-5-08)

Books Included in this Update:
- Only Yesterday, Frederick Lewis Allen
- Since Yesterday, Frederick Lewis Allen
- The Appeal, John Grisham
- The Center Cannot Hold, Harry Turtledove
- The Victorious Opposition, Harry Turtledove
- Return Engagement, Harry Turtledove
- Drive to the East, Harry Turtledove
- The Grapple, Harry Turtledove


I've waited a while to write this, as it will be my last library-related post from the University of Montevallo. At 3 PM today, I will have to vacate Napier and leave Montevallo behind. While I did not read nearly as much during the school year as I did in the summer leading up to my return, I did read quite a bit. As you can see from the listed books above, my reading for the past month or so has been dominated by schoolwork or the Turtledove series.

The Frederick Lewis Allen books come from my historiography class, where we examined history as an area of study. One of our assignments was a book review, and I asked to review The Making of the Middle Ages by R.W. Southern. I did not find the book all that interesting, as it was mostly about the development of the Christian church -- and I have zero interest in that, really. So I asked my professor if I could switch to another book. He gamely agreed, and I read Only Yesterday by Frederick Lewis Allen. Only Yesterday: An Informal History of the 1920s is a book that I started reading last term, but never finished. (I did, however, mention the book in one of these posts.)

Allen was an amateur historian working for Harpers magazine: his book is not written for academics, but for popular consumption. As such, his style is informal. In the prelude this is mildly annoying, but as the book progressed I found I liked it. Allen published this in 1931, so it was fairly recent. You can read the book online -- which is where I read it -- here.


The book moves through the 1920s, topic by topic. Some topics include the rise of crime (thanks in part to Prohibition), the rising hemlines, and the Red Scare. The topics themselves are smartly arranged chronologically, and Allen is careful to refresh the reader's memory from time to time to ensure that she or he is getting the broader perspective. It's a nice touch, I think. It was this book that my first university-level history instructor recommended to me when I asked him for book suggestions regarding the 1920s and 1930s in the United States, and I pass the recommendation on to you.

I commented in my review for class that Allen's tone may have changed had he written this book ten years later, after the Depression was revealed to have been a long-term issue for the world and not just a temporary panic. In order to see if this was the case, I checked out Allen's sequel to the book, aptly named Since Yesterday. This book follows the same style and has the same inherent readability, so I again recommend it to those of you who have an interest in this era. The style is very informal, but not so much that the reader would feel insulted. The only dull part of the books I remember is a chapter on land speculation in Florida in Only Yesterday. The chapter about the Bull Market wasn't all that interesting, either, but then again I am not an economic historian or even a student of economic history. My favorite kind of history is social history, and these books provide that.

I received John Grisham's The Appeal for my birthday. Grisham is a favorite author of mine, although I'm not exactly alone in claiming that. The Appeal, as you might be able to guess from the title, is based in the field of law -- which is a return for Grisham. His early works (A Time to Kill, The Firm, The Pelican Brief, etc) were all legal "thrillers", but then he started varying from that with titles like A Painted House, Skipping Christmas, and Playing for Pizza. That didn't hurt him, as far as I'm concerned. All of those non-legal books are well-written and entertaining as well. What follows is an introduction to the book, not a plot summary. The Appeal is principally about a chemical company that has been caught disposing of toxic chemical byproducts in ravines, poisoning the water table and giving the county the name of "Cancer County". The chemical company is sued by a married law couple, who nearly go into bankruptcy trying to afford the costs of the trial. The chemical company pins its hopes on a successful appeal -- to a friendly court. This is where the book's drama really begins, as people working on behalf of the chemical company will attempt to influence local elections to affect a change in the make-up of that court: specifically, attempting to replace a moderate judge with a conservative one. I'm not sure what Grisham's intention was with this book, other than entertainment. I personally think that it conveys a message about the power of corporations and the danger of easily-influenced voters.

I also continued reading the so-called 'Southern Victory" series by Harry Turtledove. Since Turtledove's style is about the same throughout the series, I won't bother commenting on each book one by one. Turtledove's style, you might remember, is to tell the story through the eyes of viewpoint characters. The characters in this part of the series are varied -- legislators, soldiers, sailors, dictators, death camp commandants, civilians caught in the middle, etc. The only comment I will provide other than a plot summary is that while there were sex scenes in the first three or four books, Turtledove eases off on them later on. Turtledove's sex could never match Jean M. Auel's caveman erotica, but it was still a bit strange. The later books are all about social history and military conflict. I left off at the end of the Great War. Considering the progress I've made since, it's pathetic that it has taken me this long to bother writing. If you plan to read this series and do not want anything to be spoiled, read no more.

Blood and Iron finishes the Great War. The United States and Germany are victorious, and inflict brutal peace terms on their vanquished foes. I rather enjoyed seeing the South get the same harsh treatment as Germany did in the real world, and seeing the same results -- the rise of radicalism, which is where The Center Cannot Hold probably gets its name from. As people living in France and the Confederacy deal with crippling inflation and the indignity of Versailles-like treaty conditions, they become easy prey for demagogues. Far-right conservatives seize power in Britain, France, and the Confederacy, and the world is pushed toward war.

Jake Featherston, Turtledove's answer to reality's Hitler, remilitarizes the south and prepares the Confederates for a war with the United States. There's a difference between the two, because the South (or Germany in the real world) could have rearmed without going to war. Turtledove's road to war follows the "real" road to war pretty closely. At the beginning of the 1940s (in Return Engagement) Featherston declares war against the United States and moves in, winning early victories. He fails to force the United States to capitulate, though, and is left with a war. (The Drive East, The Grapple). Even as he is fighting the United States, he is also engaged in a "final solution" of his own. During the Great War, a red revolution instigated by ill-treated blacks drained some Confederate troops from the front line. The United States would have emerged victorious regardless, but because of the "revolution", it was easy for Confederates to blame blacks for their woes. Finding a scapegoat is always easy.

The war is currently going south for the South. Every world power is trying to develop the bomb: the United States and Germany seem to be closest. I only have one book left in the series, and I believe I will be starting it this next week. I don't know what the result will be, but I'm rooting for the Confederacy's utter destruction.

Pick of the Week: Only Yesterday, Frederick Lewis Allen

Upcoming Reads:
- In To the Death, Harry Turtledove
- Daily Life in Rome
- The Roman Way
- Modern Germany
- France Since 1815
- History of the Ancient World

This Week at the Library (23/3)

Books Included in this Update:
The Great War: Breakthrough by Harry Turtledove
Blood and Iron by Harry Turtledove
Science Firsts by Robert Adler
Darwin's Ghost by Steve Jones
Palestine: Peace not Apartheid by Jimmy Carter
The Bicentennial Man and Other Stories by Isaac Asimov
Star Trek Academy: Collision Course by William Shatner
The Making of the Middle Ages by R.W. Southern

I’ve just returned from spring break, having spent the last week in Selma. I purposely did not bring my computer with me, and so was able to get a great deal of reading done. Most of my reading came from the Selma/Dallas County public library, but I also had a book from the university library and a couple lent to me from a friend. As I strolled through the stacks last Saturday, I saw many books I read last year. Two old favorites were Theories for Everything and Carl Sagan’s Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. I did not check those out, though: this week’s reading is as ever all new.

I began and ended the week with the next two books in Harry Turtledove’s “Southern Victory” alternate history series. The first, entitled The Great War: Breakthrough, ended the Great War of the series. Turtledove’s Great War saw the United States, Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire face off against Great Britain, France, and the Confederate States of America. After enjoying decades of global dominance, the three allied powers declare war on the “Quadruple Entente” and find themselves surprised by the military readiness of the United States and German Empire. Both the United States and Germany make great strides in the beginning of the war, but it like our own Great War develops into trench warfare. Turtledove develops the various powers’ technologies essentially the same way they were developed in real life, but I noticed some differences. In the real Great War, air bombing had no real effect. The Germans bombed London with their Gothas, but those raids did no actual damage. In the books, though, Richmond is mentioned as being gutted by American bombers.

The “breakthrough” mentioned is an American/German breakthrough. This is not a spoiler, as an American/German victory is nearly guaranteed by virtue of their preparedness and superior numbers. The Great War: Breakthrough is the story of how the Great War came to an end. A week later, I read Blood and Iron, the next book in the series. Blood and Iron picks up at the conclusion of the Great War. The United States gain Canada (except for Quebec, which the US Government declares free), and the German Empire gains some portions of France. (Those portions aren’t mentioned, but I’m assuming Alsace-Lorraine and France’s colonies.) Both victorious powers impose massive reparations on their defeated foes, and the Confederate and French economies tank. This allows for the rise of extremists. A student of history can easily see the patterns that Turtledove has picked up from real history. The books continue to entertain me. As mentioned prior, the story is told through the eyes of viewpoint characters -- a Canadian farmer, a Confederate artillery sergeant turned political reactionary, a Union airman turned lawyer, a Southern aristocrat trying to find a place for herself in the new industrial world, and so on. Some of the characters (like the Canadian farmer Lucien Galtier ) are favorites, while I root for misfortune to visit others (like Roger Kimball, formerly a Confederate submarine commander and war criminal). My opinion toward some characters has changed as those characters have developed. Gordon McSweeney, for instance, is a Union -- that is, American -- officer who I initially despised because he was such a religious fundamentalist who constantly judged and lectured the people around him based on his religious beliefs. As the books wear on, though, I find myself impressed by some of the things he does. I think a character like this -- who can inspire both loathing and admiration -- is an indication of good writing. He’s hardly Severus Snape, though. I should mention that Turtledove depicts his characters’ sex lives rather explicitly, reminding me of Jean M. Auel’s “Earth’s Children” series, which are sometimes described as “caveman porn”. Auel is far more sensual, though -- when Turtledove’s characters go at it, they go at it like crazed chimps most of the time.

When I visited the Selma library, I decided that I wanted to read some science. I’ve been immersed in history since August, and while I have read a few science books since coming to Montevallo, I haven’t read nearly as many as I would like. As I browsed for books, I came across Science Firsts. I have checked this book out before, though I did not manage to read the book, for whatever reason. Its full title is Science Firsts: From the Creation of Science to the Science of Creation. The book, written by Robert E. Adler, was published in 2002. The book is composed of dozens of short chapters: each chapter is about a person who made a great contribution to scientific theory. (Carl Sagan, sadly, is neglected. His first wife is mentioned, though.) Some of the names -- Aristotle, Galileo, Newton, Einstein -- are familiar. Some are lesser known, like van Leeuwenhoek and Lavoisier. Others I had never heard of before -- Mendeleev and Raymond Dart are two unfamiliar names that I wrote down. The book is concerned only with contributions made only to western science, so aside from one Islamic scholar all of the names are European or classical. To be able to explain each scientist’s contribution must require a broad general knowledge of science in general, so I am impressed with the book’s author. Some chapters were easy for me to digest, but others -- those about my weak points (chemistry and genetics, primarily) were more difficult. I can recommend it easily, though.

Next I read a little science fiction -- Isaac Asimov’s The Bicentennial Man and Other Stories. I checked this book out because I like Asimov’s short story collections so much. In the editions that the Selma library has, each story is introduced by Asimov in a few paragraphs, as he explains how it came to be and so on. I’ve mentioned this before, but Asimov’s wonderful personality comes through in these introductory passages, and makes the book so very pleasant to read. This particular collection is chiefly concerned with robotics; the majority of the stories are about robots and androids. Incidently, the book’s title story -- “The Bicentennial Man” -- was made into a movie about eight years ago. It starred Robin Williams, and being the fan of Williams that I am I was quick to watch it. Afterwards I checked out the book I thought the movie was based on, called The Positronic Man. The book turned out to be different, but very enjoyable. That was one of the first Asimov books I ever read, although I did read one or two of his books relating to astronomy and cosmology in high school. I’ll mention some of the stories to pique your interest: one, “Waterclap”, is about a feud between a city on Earth’s moon and a city on the ocean floor of Earth competing for funds from the council that governs the Earth. “The Winnowing” looks at an attempt by some scientists to avoid massive starvation and war by introducing a virus to the Earth’s population -- a virus that causes a pleasant, sleep-like death. “Tercentenary Incident” is set in 2076, where the United States is celebrating its 300th birthday. The President and his android lookalike are both attending the festivities, and then one of them is disintegrated -- but which?

My next book was also in the realm of science fiction. I happened upon this book purely by accident -- I was looking for another, and happened to see Star Trek Academy: Collision Course by William Shatner. Shatner -- famous for portraying Captain James T. Kirk in Star Trek and its related movies -- has written other science fiction books, a number of them set in the universe of Star Trek. His Star Trek-related books center around Kirk, which I can hardly blame him for. Some fans label Shatner’s Trek books as being set in the “Shatnerverse”. I enjoyed Shatner’s previous contributions well enough, though. Shatner undoubtedly wrote this book to take advantage of renewed interest in the Kirk/Spock era, which is the result of the upcoming Star Trek movie set in that same era. The book is about James Kirk and Spock, whose lives intersect for the first time in San Francisco. As they pursue their own individual goals, they happen to come across one another and are forced to work together. It’s also very Shatnerverse-y: Kirk and Spock steal the Enterprise in part of the book. This seems almost gratuitous to me. The book ends as their friendship begins, but it looks to be part of a series. The book itself was published only very recently -- at the end of 2007 -- so it may be a while before the second book arrives in store shelves.

To paraphrase Mark Twain, classics are books that people praise but don’t read. As I paced through the library stacks looking for a book to read, I kept stopping at the shelf holding Charles Darwin’s The Origin of Species. On various occasions, I picked the book up and read portions of it, only to put it back up. It is a classic book that I do want to read, but since it is a science book it will be well out of date by now and I do not see the point in reading it if that is the case. When Darwin wrote the book, he had no idea of genetics --how useful can a book on evolution be without genetics? What I needed, I thought, was a book like The Origin of Species that was more up to date. My eyes fell upon Darwin’s Ghost, another book on the shelf. I pulled it out. It read: Darwin’s Ghost: Darwin’s Origin of Species, Updated.

Well, hot damn. Take that, people who don’t believe in coincidences. I poked my head in and was informed that the author was regarded as “the British Carl Sagan”. Well, that did it. I checked the book out and immediately began to read it. Darwin’s Ghost was written in 1999 by Steve Jones and is an attempt to present The Origin of Species’ argument using modern language and arguments. Darwin’s layout and chapter titles and so forth are preserved -- Jones even uses Darwin’s closing arguments to end his own arguments, a sign of how close the two books are supposed to be. I found the book fascinating, and was encouraged by the fact that I was familiar with some of the examples used -- and that I could indeed understand a great deal of the book. Given my inability to understand anything beyond basic genetics -- a fault of mine that must be remedied, and soon -- my being able to understand a text on evolution cannot be taken for granted. If I were to recommend a book to someonearguing for evolution, I’ll stick with Eugenie Scott’s Evolution Vs. Creationism -- but this book was easy to read and quite understandable. I recommend it to anyone with an interest in science, and particularly evolutionary theory. There are a few brilliant quotations in here, two of which I wrote down. The first is from the book’s author, and the second is a quotation from Darwin:

“Evolution is to the social sciences as statues are to birds: a convenient platform upon which to deposit badly digested ideas.”

“The highest possible stage in moral culture is when we recognize that we ought to control our thoughts.”

After this, I read President Jimmy Carter’s Palestine: Peace, Not Apartheid. President Carter introduces the characters in the Palestine conflict (Israel, the PLO, Syria, Lebanon, Egypt) and then gives a brief history of the conflict. The history section of the book is separated by US presidencies, which makes sense given Carter’s perspective. At the end of the book, Carter lists obstacles and solutions to achieving peace in the middle east. I wrote down some of it. The two chief obstacles are (1) Israel’s belief that seizing Palestinian land to avenge terrorists attacks is just or reasonable and (2) Palestinians turn terrorists into heroes. Carter’s solution: Israel’s right to exist must be guaranteed, internal strife in the Israeli government must stop, and the rights of Palestinians must be respected. That’s not all he said, but my notes aren’t legible.

I disagree with Carter when he lists chief obstacles. I’d like to see what the effect would be on Israel’s attitudes toward its neighbors if the United States were to stop giving them so much money. I suspect maybe that Little Abrahm might learn to play well with others if Little Abrahm weren’t constantly indulged and supported by Uncle Sam. The book was readable -- Carter’s style isn’t boring -- but as a secular person I was bothered by the very religious tones that pervade the book. I’ve read other books by Carter where religiosity was present but not annoying. I suppose with a book on Israel it couldn’t be helped, since the whole reason they’re THERE is because the Magic Book says they belong there and have a perfect right to kill people who won’t leave. As you can imagine, I take a rather dim view toward that attitude.

Moving on, though. The last book I read was R. W. Southern’s The Making of the Middle Ages. The book was published in 1958, which is well before historians and scientists started trying to popularize their books by presenting the materials in a way comprehensible to those who are not experts on the subject. While Southern’s style isn’t boring, it’s not all that readable either. After spending several days plodding through, I was afraid I was becoming burnt out on history. I tried reading other history books (ones I own) and found that this was not the case. The culprit was The Making of the Middle Ages. Southern explores Europe from 972 to 1204. He covers the organization of the Christian church, the introduction of logic to Christian theology, and the rise of serfs and knights. The chapter on serfs and knights -- entitled “Social Bonds” -- was interesting, but I found the ones on monasteries and theology to be quite dull. I don’t think is because I am not a religious person -- even as a fundamentalist I would have found chapters on theology boring. That’s probably why I’m no longer a fundamentalist, heh. The book seems to be well-received by people who read it, which is a bit worrisome. What did I miss? This is especially worrisome given that I’m to write a review of the book for my historiography class.

Pick of the Week: The decision is between Science Firsts and Blood and Iron. The former is a collection of delightful stories about science. The other is an alternative history tale where the United States and Germany triumph over the Confederacy and the European Powers that helped the traitorous Confederacy leave the Union in the first place. This is hardly fair. I will choose Science Firsts, however, because of my preference for nonfiction.

Next Week:
I will be reading more of the Turtledove series and probably starting on John Grisham’s latest novel, The Appeal. That reminds me: I read his next-to-latest novel (Playing for Pizza) over Christmas but neglected to write about it here -- I think.

This Week at the Library

'Twas in the days of '76, when freemen young and old
All fought for independence then, each hero brave and bold…
'Twas then the noble Stars and Stripes
In triumph did appear,
And defended by brave patriots,
The Yankee volunteers.

Books in this Update:
- 1776, David McCullough
- The Jerk with the Cell Phone, Barbara Pachter and Susan Magee
- Why Lincoln Matters, Mario Cuomo
- The Great War: Walk in Hell, Harry Turtledove


This week's reading began with David McCullough's 1776. This book's cover art caught my eye as I strode through the library one evening, and I paused to examine it. A quick perusal betrayed that the book had a readable tone and seemed interesting enough, so I checked it out along with a few others. 1776 is a book dealing a critical year of the American Revolution. McCullough tells the story of this year using source materials from American soldiers, loyalist civilians, and British officers. It is a very readable book, in my opinion -- I was able to finish it during a weekend away from the university. The book is divided into three parts (much like Gaul): The Siege, Fateful Summer, and The Long Retreat. For those unfamiliar with the way the Revolutionary War proceeded, it was actually a rather bleak affair for those hoping for an American victory. Washington spends much of the early part of the war either in retreat from the British army in an effort to keep his army intact or dealing with the American bureaucracy. What I appreciate about this book is that it shows both Washington's failings and his triumphs. I recommend 1776 heartily.

My next read was a very light one -- The Jerk with the Cell Phone: A Guide for the Rest Of Us, by Barbara Pachter and Susan Magee. This, as you might imagine, is a short book that complains about cell-phone addicts and offers tips for how to deal with them. The book explains the various types of cell-phone jerks and then offers vary information. There's really not that much to the book, but it is enjoyable enough to read if you find people yelling in their phones during dinner to be a tad disruptive.

My next book was a bit more serious. Why Lincoln Matters explores Lincoln's heritage and attempts to make connections between Lincoln's policy decisions and the policy decisions of presidents that claim to follow in his footsteps. The book is by Mario Cuomo, and the name struck me as being familiar for some reason -- a good reason, it turns out. He was once the governor of New York. Cuomo examines Lincoln's record on war, liberty, civil rights, the role of government, religion, race, and more. He then compares these to other president's records -- F. Roosevelt and George W. Bush are the two names that are mentioned most, and Bush most of all. Lincoln is not without his flaws, and this is the reason I enjoyed the book so. People tend to deify the man. In all I found the book to be quite interesting, and I recommend you give it a go if you are at all interested in the politics of Abraham Lincoln.

My last read for this week was Harry Turtledove's The Great War: Walk in Hell. Walk in Hell is third in a series of alternative history books. In the first two, the Confederacy succeeded in seceding with the help of Great Britain and France. When the Confederacy attempted to expand, the United States objected and the two European powers again intervened. Having learned its lesson at the end of the first book --- get allies, plan for wars carefully -- the United States adopt Prussian-style militarism and overall readiness, creating a General Staff of its own. The General Staff represented the German military elite. Only 40 officers a year were invited to join its ranks, and those invited had to enroll in a "War Academy" where they were trained to think like strategists. In the second book, the United States and Germany are thrown into war when their mutual ally (Austria) declares war on Serbia for it not completing kowtowing to Austrian demands. The Great War begins essentially as it began in real life, but this time the United States declare (not declares; US government has evolved differently) war on the Confederacy and the Dominion of Canada. The south is also weakened by a socialist revolution (the socialists being the heavily-abused blacks). As mentioned prior, technology advances in almost the same way in Turtledove's books.

I am shamelessly rooting for the United States and Germany, having absolutely no love for the Confederacy. As such, I was pleased to read of the south's woes and the United States' progress against its southern foe. The story is told through the eyes of viewpoint characters, all fictional. The viewpoint characters are varied -- Canadian farmers, southern aristocrats, socialist revolutionaries, United States navy men, and so on. Very few infantrymen are used as viewpoint characters, presumably so because they have such a high rate of mortality. The story is enjoyable, although some readers may object to the historically used terminology. I look forward to the next book in the series, Breakthrough. That will end the "Great War" series -- I'm trusting in the American-German alliance's favor.

Pick of the Week: David McCullough's 1776. As much as I liked Why Lincoln Matters, with me it's difficult to beat a good historical narrative.

Next week: I'll begin reading R.W. Southern's The Making of the Middle Ages and Turtledove's Breakthrough. I make no other guarantees -- while I will be doing research for my paper on the European Union (specifically, France's role in creating it), I doubt that I will read entire books on the subject like I did last semester for my papers on Jeanne d'Arc and the Luftwaffe.

This Week at the Library (28/2)

The History of the S.S. (G.S. Grabel)
Washington's Secret War (Thomas Fleming)
The Trial of Madame Caillaux (Edward Berenson)
Thomas Jefferson: Author of America. (Christopher Hitchens)
How Few Remain (Harry Turtledove)
Naturalist (E. O. Wilson)
The Great War: American Front (Harry Turtledove)


The first book I read this week I found purely by accident. During a blackout a week or so ago, I walked to the university library, hoping that they had power. They did have emergency lights, so I walked upstairs and began to roam the shelves. I found myself in German history, and picked up a book entitled The History of the S.S., by G.S. Graber. The book is short -- 212 pages -- but thoroughly enjoyable, given the subject matter. Graber explores the S.S. -- its creation, the men who ran it, and its demise. The S.S. constituted Hitler's real power base. The "Schutzstaffel" grew from a protection detail (protection from the S.A, or stormtroopers) to a major organization in Nazi Germany. They oversaw the Holocaust (Rudolf Höß, the commandant of Auschwitz, held a high rank in the S.S) and some of the fighting on the eastern front, through the Waffen S.S., or "armed SS".


While I knew a lot of the general information presented in this book (courtesy of my German history course and a historical interest in both World War 2 and Germany), I was still surprised by much of the information within. Graber offers miniature biographies of men like Hendrich Himmler to illustrate the disturbing fact that the S.S. were not madmen twisted by wretched childhood -- they were ordinarily people who managed to twist their own minds. Graber's book covers the SS from its inception to its dominance over all other Nazi organizations (I've read elsewhere that Himmler intended for the S.S to be a state within a state, with sovereignty in the east) to its demise. Graber also mentions the fascination many people in the United States have with the S.S. (and posits that "It may mean nothing, of course, but perhaps it helps to illustrate how a previous generation could have been entranced by the paraphernalia of the SS, its mystic signs, its banners, and ultimately its special mission." (Page 212.) Were I to write a paper on the S.S., I think that The History of the S.S. would serve well as a key source.

The next book I read, Washington's Secret War: The Hidden History of Valley Forge, is by Thomas Fleming. As I wrote this current paragraph on Presidents' Day, I turned on C-Span to find the author moderating a panel of historians as they discussed the relationship between General Washington and the Marquis de Lafayette. Timely! While I knew that Washington was not popular with some politicians (like John Adams), I was unaware of the extent of his unpopularity. In fact, it's rather hard for me to grasp, still. Washington is one of those figures of American history who is treated with veneration, so much so that he becomes a legendary figure, disassociated with the faults of real people. Robert E. Lee is treated the same way in the American south. The result of this (in Washington's case) is that it is hard to contemplate the fact that he had to put up with the same kind of politics that our current politicians have to deal with. This fact was demonstrated as I continued reading the book, and amused me for some reason. It was also encouraging in a strange way, I suppose. The political game, it seems, hasn't degenerated. The feud between Senators Clinton and Obama is tame, in fact, compared to the feud between Presidents Adams and Jefferson -- and petty defamations of character have apparently been a staple of American elections since there have been elections. Washington's Secret War was a thoroughly informative read.

The third book I read was The Trial of Madame Caillaux, by Edward Berenson. The title trial happened in France, in 1914. The wife of a French politician grows weary of a newspaperman's continual campaign against her husband and opts to shoot him. The murderer (Madame Caillaux) is put on trial for the murder, and thus the book begins. The book is divided into five chapters, each examining the role of a particular person in the trial and at the same time a part of French society that that person's case exemplifies. For instance, the chapter on Gaston Calmette (the unfortunate newspaperman) focuses on the role of the French press played in shaping popular opinion while looking into Calmette's motives for attacking Mr. Caillaux in the first place. In my opinion this was a splendid approach, and very well done. The book offered a look at life was like for Frenchmen in 1914, and I would recommend it heartily.

A few weeks ago I watched The Four Horsemen on Google Video, which is a conversation between the "Four Horsemen" of rational thought today (R. Dawkins, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett, and Christopher Hitchens, all of whom have written books on rationality v. religion recently). I thought it would be funny if I were to write a library post where I read a book from each of the "horsemen". I went to my university library's website and found books for three of them, the exception being Mr. Harris -- and that was no problem because I've already read both of his books. When I went to the library to fetch these tomes, my plans quickly changed. There is a reason I have never read one of Daniel Dennett's books, and that reason is that his books are intimidating. Perhaps one day if I find myself stranded on a desert isle I'll have the time it would take to read and comprehend one of his books, but not this week.

While looking for one of the Dennett books, though, I happened upon E.O. Wilson's Naturalist. E.O. Wilson is a name I know from one of my skeptic podcasts; Point of Inquiry, perhaps. After poking around in the book, I decided to give it a go. The library had one of Dr. Dawkins' books that I hadn't read, Climbing Mount Improbable. I have watched him give an excellent lecture on the same title, though, so I hoped I would have a head start on this book. As much as I like reading Dawkins, I don't have a head for biology and find it difficult to finish some of his works-- like The Selfish Gene, which I've tried twice with no success. Christopher Hitchens is considering one of the "Horsemen" because of his work God is Not Great: How Religion Ruins Everything, but he has written on other subjects. The book I chose to read by him -- and the first book I would read out of my "horsemen" selection -- was Thomas Jefferson: Author of America.




Hitchens' work focuses on President Jefferson's role in shaping American history, particularly his influence on the Declaration of Independence and the Louisiana Purchase. While the subject matter was generally interesting, Hitchens' tone is a bit stuffy. This is the first book I've read by him and I failed to read any reviews of the book before I read the book itself, so I don't know if this is a common aspect of Hitchens' work or if anyone else picked up it. My lack of historical enthusiasm for the Revolutionary War may also interfere with my enjoyment of the book -- but then, I did enjoy George Washington's Secret War. Read the book (if you are so inclined) and judge for yourself.

I then started on Naturalist but a friend of mine recommended I read Harry Turtledove's How Few Remain. Dr. Turtledove writes historical fiction -- alternative history, in fact. I have read a book by Turtledove before -- Guns of the South. In Guns of the South, Turtledove depicts the Confederacy winning the Civil War after they are assisting by time-traveling white supremacists who equip the rebels with AK-47s. In How Few Remain, he again proposes an alternate history where the Confederacy wins -- this time, by taking care of one of Lee's mistakes. Lee's orders for his 1862 invasion of Pennsylvania were intercepted by Federal troops, which allowed Gen. George McClellan to not lose the battle of Antietam. In How Few Remain, the intercepted orders are NOT intercepted, and Lee manages to deal the Army of the Potomac a fatal blow. England and France recognize the Confederacy as a legitimate nation, and the United States loses. This is a rather unfortunate turn of events for the slaves.

The above is actually the prelude to this book. The actual plot of this book concerns a second war between the states. The Confederacy, led by President James Longstreet, buys two of Mexico's northern provinces. The United States objects by declaring war, and that is what the book is about. This book is actually the prelude to a series of books that build off of the premises established. The viewpoint characters are historical figures -- Teddy Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, and so on -- whose characters have been shaped by this interesting new history. Lincoln is not offed by a disgruntled ex-Confederate, and survives to become a Marxist, universally despised in the United States for losing the war and half the country. Teddy Roosevelt doesn't lead the Rough Riders up San Jan Hill -- he instead invades Canada. Despite my distaste for the idea of the Confederacy winning the Civil War, I enjoyed the book. It is as I said the prologue to Turtledove's alternative history series, and I've decided to read the series through.

After reading How Few Remained, I returned to my planned reading. Naturalist, by E.O. Wilson, is an autobiography of E. O. Wilson's life and career as a zoologist. I didn't realize that Dr. Wilson is from Alabama, but he grew up in the Mobile area during the depression. I haven't read any accounts of growing up in Alabama during that time, and so enjoyed that first part of the book the most. There are some parts of the book that weren't quite so interesting to a non-biologist like myself -- but in general it was an enjoyable read. Wilson is a good writer, and even when I wasn't sure what he was talking about I wanted to keep plowing through. Wilson has had a long and interesting life -- traveling the world over while doing his research and meeting people like James Watson.

Naturalist took me longer to read than it should have, because I was distracted by the next book in that alternate history series I began this week -- The Great War: American Front. The United States has managed to lose two separate wars against the Confederacy at this point, and has been abandoned by the two greatest powers of the world at that time -- Britain and France. One of How Few Remain's viewpoint characters was Alfred von Schlieffen, author of the German plan for fighting a two-front war. Turtledove is evidently a fan of Germany's General Staff (the elite core of officers that determined military policy in Germany until Hitler and his goons arrived), as he has von Schlieffen elaborate on how careful Germany is when planning for war -- as opposed to the United States' and Confederacy's prewar planning, which is negligible. The Great War: American Front picks up on a promise made by American (that is, northern) officers to go to Germany and learn their ways of conducting a war.

The book begins in 1914. The United States and Germany are bosom buddies, as the U.S. is a member of the Triple Alliance, along with Germany and Austria. The Confederacy is part of the British-French entente. Socialism is taking hold in the United States, and the two Americas despise one another. The Great War begins the same way in this book as it did in real life -- with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. The United States and the Confederacy declare war on the other's alliance and thus begins the book. The viewpoint characters in this book are apparently going to be the staple core of characters used for the rest of the series, and they're all new. None of them are historical figures, not that I've seen anyway. There are historical figures in the books -- the U.S. President is Theodore Roosevelt, and the Confederate president is Woodrow Wilson -- but the story is never told from their point of view.

The evolution of warfare is the same in this version of the Great War as it is in real life -- US and German offensives lose steam and then settle into bloody trench warfare. Airplanes are used to gather intelligence, and then used as fighters -- which fits the pattern I've observed while studying the rise of air forces in various countries during the Great War. While the book (and the entire series, I think) is dominated by warfare, both books have been about more than war. They've been about how these societies develop, their economies, how their very cultures are fashioned by the differing chain of events. While I do have a number of quibbles, overall the series has been enjoyable and I find the connections he makes to be generally plausible. I am not convinced that Britain and France would have sided with the Confederacy in the first place, though.

That concludes this week's reading.

Pick of the Week: The History of the S.S. was extremely well-written and quite informative.

Next week, I will finish R. Dawkin's Climbing Mount. Improbable, and will continue my reading of the Turtledove series. I think my next history paper will be about France's role in forging the European Union, so I might read something along those lines.