Heather Seggel

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Upon hearing that Randall Munroe, NASA roboticist turned webcomic all-star, is writing a collection of “What If?” columns, a number of you will immediately make plans to buy the book. Don’t worry, you’ll love it. But this review is for the rest of you, who are curious if a bit confused.

Munroe draws the extremely popular webcomic xkcd. You may think you’ve never seen it, but pull it up online and you might well exclaim, “Oh, THAT guy!” (At least, that was my response). What If? Serious Scientific Answers to Absurd Hypothetical Questions brings Munroe’s stick figures and low-key hilarity to a formidable task: answering reader-submitted questions like, how many arrows would it take to blot out the sun like in the movie 300? Or, what would happen if everyone on Earth crowded into the same space and jumped together, landing at the same time? (Answers: It’s complicated; and not much, but the traffic jam when everyone tried to go home would be our undoing). The book includes both new questions and some favorites from the website, including a puzzler about whether each of us has a soul mate.

As the book’s subtitle indicates, Munroe uses real science to get to his answers, many of which are terrifying (do NOT try to collect all the elements in the Periodic Table), but his drawings leaven the prospect of total annihilation.

However you approach What If?, you’ll end up someplace different after reading it. I went from enjoying the humor to wanting to learn and understand more (while still laughing a lot). The perfect book for someone with insatiable curiosity, What If? is funny and fascinating in equal measure.

 

This article was originally published in the September 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Upon hearing that Randall Munroe, NASA roboticist turned webcomic all-star, is writing a collection of “What If?” columns, a number of you will immediately make plans to buy the book. Don’t worry, you’ll love it. But this review is for the rest of you, who are curious if a bit confused.
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Abigail (don’t call her “Abby”) is so excited about starting sixth grade, she has to make lists just to calm herself down. She’s ready to rule the school with best friends Alli and Cami and their wicked pom pom choreography when disaster strikes three times over: Abigail ends up in a different homeroom than her friends; she doesn’t make the pom squad; and her homeroom teacher pairs her with wildly unpopular Gabby Marco for a year-long letter writing assignment. Always, Abigail is a story of friendship found in unexpected places, and the cost of kindness versus popularity.

Author Nancy Cavanaugh (This Journal Belongs to Ratchet) tells much of the story through lists, which capture Abigail's essential goodness along with the ways she fails Gabby as a friend. As she realizes her elite clique of friends aren’t such nice people, she lists “Something I Was Starting To Be Thankful For: That AlliCam weren’t in my homeroom.” When she finally overcomes her fear of unpopularity by proxy and sticks up for Gabby, it’s a personal victory and a blow to the bullying impulse.

The story is never preachy. Readers who empathize with Abigail’s desire to do the right thing while holding onto her privileged status can see for themselves the consequences of failing. For kids on the cusp of young adulthood and ready to advance as quickly as possible, Always, Abigail makes a compelling case for being kind and enjoying a little more of childhood while it lasts.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

Abigail (don’t call her “Abby”) is so excited about starting sixth grade, she has to make lists just to calm herself down. She’s ready to rule the school with best friends Alli and Cami and their wicked pom pom choreography when disaster strikes three times over: Abigail ends up in a different homeroom than her friends; she doesn’t make the pom squad; and her homeroom teacher pairs her with wildly unpopular Gabby Marco for a year-long letter writing assignment. Always, Abigail is a story of friendship found in unexpected places, and the cost of kindness versus popularity.

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One day in January 2010, Aubert de Villaine received a cardboard tube in the mail. Inside was a map of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, his vineyard, more detailed than any map he himself owned. There was also a note threatening to poison his vines unless a one million euro ransom was paid. Despite the detailed map, De Villaine doubted the threat, which turned out to be real; the vines were in fact poisoned. Shadows in the Vineyard is not a conventional true crime story, but then, poisoning the rarest and most expensive wine in the world is not your average crime.

The prime suspect in the ransom plot defies expectation at every turn, executing an intricate, sophisticated plan with virtually no resources save his own two hands; he sent his ransom demand through the regular mail, and retrieved the money alone and on foot.

Author Maximillian Potter spreads the story of the crime out, taking numerous side trips into wine history both in France and California. Readers learn, for example, that during Prohibition, Paul Masson kept the Almaden winery solvent by growing grapes for “medicinal” wine under a legal loophole, predating medical cannabis by more than a century.

Whether you're an avid wine collector or find the notion of terroir terrifying, Shadows in the Vineyard uses this highly unusual story to immerse readers in the pleasures of the grape. Armchair tourists and those who can't pass by a historical crime landmark without taking photos will find it hard to put down.

One day in January 2010, Aubert de Villaine received a cardboard tube in the mail. Inside was a map of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, his vineyard, more detailed than any map he himself owned. There was also a note threatening to poison his vines unless a one million euro ransom was paid. Despite the detailed map, De Villaine doubted the threat, which turned out to be real; the vines were in fact poisoned. Shadows in the Vineyard is not a conventional true crime story, but then, poisoning the rarest and most expensive wine in the world is not your average crime.
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While teaching a group of volunteers about marine stewardship one morning, researcher Ken Balcomb was confronted with a crisis the likes of which he'd never seen: an inexplicable mass stranding of beaked whales. While racing up and down the Bahamas coastline, trying to save lives or at least preserve specimens for autopsy, he struggled to comprehend what could have caused the whales such trauma. When the U.S. Navy's sonar program was implicated, Balcomb was torn; proud of his own service record, he nonetheless broke confidentiality about Navy practices to try and save the lives of whales. Joining forces with environmental lawyer Joel Reynolds, the two face off against a government in the throes of a national security panic in War of the Whales.

Author Joshua Horwitz structures this account like an eco-legal thriller, layering his research so that film of a Navy ship seen in the water near the site of the beachings hangs there like damning evidence. While the Navy's secrecy doesn't make them look good, Horwitz describes the history of sonar, its crucial role in the Cold War and military relevance today, allowing for no easy answers, just uncomfortable compromises.

The lawsuit at the book's center is another instance when a partial win has to be counted in the plus column. As humans encroach ever further into wild spaces, the impact on the creatures living there must be minimized or mitigated. War of the Whales tells one story among many of its type, but it speaks to the need for improved stewardship with urgency.

While teaching a group of volunteers about marine stewardship one morning, researcher Ken Balcomb was confronted with a crisis the likes of which he'd never seen: an inexplicable mass stranding of beaked whales. While racing up and down the Bahamas coastline, trying to save lives or at least preserve specimens for autopsy, he struggled to comprehend what could have caused the whales such trauma. When the U.S. Navy's sonar program was implicated, Balcomb was torn; proud of his own service record, he nonetheless broke confidentiality about Navy practices to try and save the lives of whales. Joining forces with environmental lawyer Joel Reynolds, the two face off against a government in the throes of a national security panic in War of the Whales.
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When Jade gets caught making up school reports about her summer vacations, her parents send her to have a real summer adventure in Wyoming with her aunt. From stargazing on the roof to meeting a boy who claims to be related to Butch Cassidy, Jade’s world starts rapidly expanding. Skies Like These isn’t all sunny weather, but even the storms make for great slumber parties.

Jade has a lot of eccentricity to cope with, and the story feels a bit overstuffed at times—with a kennel full of dogs, a planned art heist, cowboy poetry contest, wild neighbors and Aunt Elise expanding her rooftop parties to include astronomy classes—but it’s sweet to see Jade making new friends both young and old and finding her own way.

This story would be ideal for a youngster traveling for the first time, as it’s ultimately about finding contentment wherever you are and making the best of what you find there. Aunt Elise moved to Wyoming to find a sense of peace but left family ties behind; her time with Jade lets her renew that connection. Skies Like These is a jumble, but a warm and friendly one.

 

This article was originally published in the July 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

When Jade gets caught making up school reports about her summer vacations, her parents send her to have a real summer adventure in Wyoming with her aunt. From stargazing on the roof to meeting a boy who claims to be related to Butch Cassidy, Jade’s world starts rapidly expanding. Skies Like These isn’t all sunny weather, but even the storms make for great slumber parties.
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Fond looks back at profound dysfunction have become so commonplace, it’s a wonder there’s not a “crazy parenting” section in bookstores to help the next generation of memoirists get a leg up. At this point, crazy itself is not sufficient reason to publish. In Take This Man, Brando Skyhorse, who won a PEN/Hemingway Award for his first novel (The Madonnas of Echo Park), captures the details of his dysfunctional upbringing with note-perfect language and does so in pursuit of the truth about his family.

Skyhorse was only 3 years old when his Mexican father abandoned the family. His mother, who was also Mexican, decided to assume an American Indian identity for herself and her son. Through five stepfathers and constant upheaval, Skyhorse struggled to mold a father figure out of the con men and failures his mother brought home. While she worked as a phone sex operator, he would be dispatched to drag one man home from a bar, or taken on an outing with another where, instead of riding bumper cars at an amusement park, he was left in the car outside a housing project while undisclosed business was transacted inside. Despite the instability and verbal abuse, he clung to his mother and grandmother until college provided a means of escape. His emotional scars are just beginning to heal as he gets to know his father for the first time—and comes to grips with the realization that his mother’s claim of Native-American heritage was a fantasy.

“My mother had so much pain to share that she had to invent people to hurt,” including a kidnapped daughter and a son who died at age 3, Skyhorse writes.

This is a hard story to take in—a trip to visit the imaginary daughter leads to the revelation that his mother has placed an ad offering her young son for adoption—but it’s impossible to look away. Every hate and hurt on display here is balanced against an equally powerful love. Take This Man looks head-on at every character, including the author; it’s a brave and hopeful story.

 

This article was originally published in the June 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Fond looks back at profound dysfunction have become so commonplace, it’s a wonder there’s not a “crazy parenting” section in bookstores to help the next generation of memoirists get a leg up. At this point, crazy itself is not sufficient reason to publish. In Take This Man, Brando Skyhorse, who won a PEN/Hemingway Award for his first novel (The Madonnas of Echo Park), captures the details of his dysfunctional upbringing with note-perfect language and does so in pursuit of the truth about his family.

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BookPage Teen Top Pick, June 2014

At just 18, Emi has parlayed a Hollywood internship into work as a production designer, a job for which she has natural talent. While prop shopping at an estate sale, she finds a letter from a deceased movie star that sends her and her best friend, Charlotte, on a quest to find the actor’s troubled granddaughter, Ava.

Fate, love and vintage furniture collide in Everything Leads to You. Nina LaCour, author of The Disenchantments, has a true knack for pacing, moving the story along while incorporating generous pauses to allow the characters to watch one another and see how they live. That theme comes to the forefront here, as designer Emi’s idealized movie-set worlds crash into the reality of Ava’s homelessness. People often project a story onto others based upon what they initially see; Emi loses sight of that and almost misses out on true love in the bargain. Her plan is to craft a happy ending for Ava, who goes almost literally from rags to riches. Instead Emi realizes, “She was never something waiting to be solved. All she is—all she’s ever been—is a person trying to live a life.”

Everything Leads to You has fairy-tale qualities—the letter, the quest it inspires and, of course, the glitter-coated world of Hollywood. But it’s a fairy tale made up of the magic inherent to each of us: discovering what you’re good at and pursuing it doggedly; keeping friends and family close whenever it’s feasible; and trusting your heart to lead you where you need to go. Sometimes abandoning your vision of a happy ending is the key to having one after all.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

This article was originally published in the June 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Teen Top Pick, June 2014

At just 18, Emi has parlayed a Hollywood internship into work as a production designer, a job for which she has natural talent. While prop shopping at an estate sale, she finds a letter from a deceased movie star that sends her and her best friend, Charlotte, on a quest to find the actor’s troubled granddaughter, Ava.

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The city of Hamburg has become a prison for its smallest citizens. Where once they ate their fill and ran the streets freely, the invention of the mousetrap has forced mice underground. Some flee by ship, but the ports are now guarded by cats, and owls watch from every steeple. One mouse has a revelation when he sees bats flying overhead: They’re little more than mice with wings, so who’s to say a mouse can’t fly? The adventures in Lindbergh: The Tale of a Flying Mouse are ready for takeoff.

Author and illustrator Torben Kuhlmann shows off the mouse’s many failed attempts at flight, which resemble the first real flying machines. The mouse risks capture, sneaking into toy boxes to steal a spring or wire. The illustrations capture the panoramic views of a train station or city street, as well as the intimacy of an inventor’s workroom, complete with design sketches, prototypes and teeny-tiny mouse tools. These scenes are largely dark, both with night and fog, which makes the yellow eyes of predators a shock when they appear.

At 96 pages this is an involved tale, leading up to the mouse’s transatlantic flight and eventual resettling in New York, where his aeronautic feats inspire a young Charles Lindbergh. The stories play against each other well and should keep young kids riveted to the adventure, while older ones may be inspired to craft their own inventions.

When Lindbergh lands safely, all is well. This book is a nice introduction to the history of flight, but also a great lesson in creative inspiration and the way it can come from the most unexpected places.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

The city of Hamburg has become a prison for its smallest citizens. Where once they ate their fill and ran the streets freely, the invention of the mousetrap has forced mice underground. Some flee by ship, but the ports are now guarded by cats, and owls watch from every steeple. One mouse has a revelation when he sees bats flying overhead: They’re little more than mice with wings, so who’s to say a mouse can’t fly? The adventures in Lindbergh: The Tale of a Flying Mouse are ready for takeoff.

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By age 6, Kara Westfall has seen and suffered unimaginable loss: Her mother was convicted of witchcraft, and Kara was accused as well. By 12 she’s developed a dark sense of humor, but she’s a dutiful sister to younger brother Taff and tries to care for her grieving father. Their village hates and fears her, so when a strange bird appears in her path and leads her into the Thickety, the oppressive forest that surrounds them, she’s frightened but curious. What she finds there will reshape her destiny.

Author J.A. White packs The Thickety: A Path Begins with genuinely scary scenes, many of which revolve less around magic than simple human cruelty. Kara’s nemesis Grace is a Bad Seed / Crucible mashup, solicitous to all adults while torturing and enslaving her playmates in the pursuit of ultimate power. Kara’s helplessness to allay her father’s grief, and her anger when she has to mother him and shoulder his share of the work, speak to the adult pressures many kids face daily. It’s no wonder that a taste of power turns her own head, and threatens to sink her entirely.

The story ends with a blindsiding twist, after which nothing is certain and everyone’s potentially in peril. Fortunately the subtitle A Path Begins promises more to come, because readers who enter The Thickety will want to return.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

By age 6, Kara Westfall has seen and suffered unimaginable loss: Her mother was convicted of witchcraft, and Kara was accused as well. By 12 she’s developed a dark sense of humor, but she’s a dutiful sister to younger brother Taff and tries to care for her grieving father. Their village hates and fears her, so when a strange bird appears in her path and leads her into the Thickety, the oppressive forest that surrounds them, she’s frightened but curious. What she finds there will reshape her destiny.

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On the heels of her death in February comes an intriguing new book examining the legacy of Shirley Temple. Author John F. Kasson confines his study to the child star’s impact on popular culture at a time when escapist entertainment was both luxury and dire necessity. The Little Girl Who Fought the Great Depression may sound like hyperbole, but Temple’s impact on the nation’s self-image proves unimpeachable.

From humble beginnings in Santa Monica, young Shirley was groomed into star material by her mother, but her talent and charisma were what earned her fame. For four years, she was the top box office earner in the nation; adults complained that they couldn’t get in to see her films because the children in attendance wouldn’t leave the theater. Shirley Temple merchandise sold in the millions, and advertisers learned that marketing to parents through their children was a winning strategy.

Kasson parallels Temple’s success with Franklin Roosevelt’s election and the economic turnaround of the New Deal, describing her as crucial to national optimism at a tenuous moment. One reporter referred only half-jokingly to the TRA or “Temple Recovery Act,” equating her economic impact with that of the government programs of the time.

Little Girl isn’t a tell-all biography, but there’s mention of Temple’s tantrums and her parents’ disastrous mismanagement of her finances, which left her roughly $44,000 of more than $3 million earned. Her mother understated Shirley’s age, most likely to keep the child star young, and lucrative, for as long as possible. Despite such circumstances, she grew into a seemingly normal, well-adjusted adult. The Little Girl Who Fought the Great Depression will appeal to biography fans, but also to pop culture historians; her influence still resonates today.

 

This article was originally published in the May 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

On the heels of her death in February comes an intriguing new book examining the legacy of Shirley Temple. Author John F. Kasson confines his study to the child star’s impact on popular culture at a time when escapist entertainment was both luxury and dire necessity. The Little Girl Who Fought the Great Depression may sound like hyperbole, but Temple’s impact on the nation’s self-image proves unimpeachable.

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Philippe Petit’s famous tightrope walk between the twin towers of the World Trade Center in 1974 was just one of many such performances by the artist. He made the crossing without a permit or permission to be in the building, so it’s little wonder he thinks of his actions as “coups” and has titled his book Creativity: The Perfect Crime. This is not a how-to book—it’s more of a this-is-how-I primer—but close readers will come away with both inspiration and useful instruction.

Petit describes his process of amassing vast amounts of information and linking ideas together before a new project takes shape, storing these files in an imagined hiding place. This fanciful approach is a helpful counterpoint to the reality of practicing on the rope, or with the juggling balls and clubs, for hours daily. When plotting your own creative coup, he recommends choosing accomplices with more attention to their character than the skills they bring to the project. “Watch bank-heist movies. You’ll see that each time a coup fails, it is due to human error, human limitation, human betrayal.”

There are a few exercises suggested here, such as learning to balance on either foot while blindfolded, and doing tasks with your non-dominant hand. However, it’s more enjoyable to just watch Petit as he works, drilling for hours to learn a new juggling move, or using a giant calendar both to track progress on a project and spur him to keep at it. Small sketches and copied pages from his notebooks show how he’ll code an entry with small pictograms, then use colored markers or additional notations to chart how things progressed.

Each chapter has a single word that appears in blue; readers can finish the chapter or skip to the end to read a brief stand-alone discussion of, say, bullfighting or the Golden Mean. It’s a gimmick, but a fun one. Anyone curious about Petit’s life and art, or hoping to draw inspiration for their own creative coup, will find ideas and insights in Creativity: The Perfect Crime.

 

This article was originally published in the May 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Philippe Petit’s famous tightrope walk between the twin towers of the World Trade Center in 1974 was just one of many such performances by the artist. He made the crossing without a permit or permission to be in the building, so it’s little wonder he thinks of his actions as “coups” and has titled his book Creativity: The Perfect Crime. This is not a how-to book—it’s more of a this-is-how-I primer—but close readers will come away with both inspiration and useful instruction.

Review by

Little Poems for Tiny Ears is a sweet and gentle collection of verse for babies, toddlers and parents observing their first milestones. It’s a quiet celebration of things like discovering one’s own toes, learning to walk, count and find all the ways one’s body makes noise. Lin Oliver’s poems are clear and uncomplicated, such as “Hush”: “In her favorite rocking chair / My mama holds me tight. / We rock and sway the hours away / Until we kiss good night.” Tomie dePaola’s illustrations are equally gentle, featuring a multiracial cast of adorable toddlers, stuffed and real pet animals, as well as sunny borders of flowers, stars, birds and confetti. Contented smiles abound.

This is a winning bedtime book. Not overly stimulating, it can settle babies down while getting them used to read-aloud books. Kids who are just learning to read can reminisce about their diaper-changing days and how far they’ve come since way back then. And parents—especially first-time or very young parents—will see that much of what they’re experiencing for the first time with their new charges is perfectly normal and common to all kids. The poems’ gentle humor sometimes seems to address parents as well as younger readers, and it will surely be appreciated.

As if that weren’t enough to recommend it, Little Poems for Tiny Ears has a wrap-around book jacket which, with the addition of one tiny sticker or piece of tape, wraps the book for easy gift-giving. Next baby shower invitation you receive, look no further; this is a winner.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

Little Poems for Tiny Ears is a sweet and gentle collection of verse for babies, toddlers and parents observing their first milestones. It’s a quiet celebration of things like discovering one’s own toes, learning to walk, count and find all the ways one’s body makes noise.

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BookPage Children's Top Pick, April 2014

“Work smart / Live smarter / Play hard / Practice harder / Love, Dad” The Crossover is a novel-in-verse, with long flows of prose that spill out a tale of family, love, loss and basketball.

Josh and his twin brother Jordan live for the game and plan to play at rival colleges. Their mother is tough but fair with the boys, but she tries in vain to persuade their father to make healthier choices. An ex-player whose pro dreams faded after an injury, he lives through the boys’ achievements while wolfing down Krispy Kremes. One crisis leads to another, and soon the family is mourning an irreplaceable loss.

The Crossover will appeal to basketball fans, and it will likely grab reluctant readers with its quick wordplay, deft rhymes and kinetic, poetic take on the game. “The bass booms. / The crowd looms. / There’s music and mocking, / teasing nonstop, but / when the play begins / all the talk ceases.” Author Kwame Alexander has made a gift to teachers with this book: References to classical and jazz music (Josh’s dad nicknamed him “Filthy McNasty” after a Horace Silver song), probability (Jordan places bets on nearly everything) and the geometry of the game open up plenty of study topics without ever losing a step. Jordan’s fledgling romance and the strain it puts on the brothers’ relationship will draw sympathy from anyone who has ever felt deserted by a friend.

The title refers to a move made on the court, but The Crossover is destined to reach—and touch—readers who never gave basketball or poetry a second thought until now. It’s tough, muscular writing about a tender, unguarded heart.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

BookPage Children's Top Pick, April 2014

“Work smart / Live smarter / Play hard / Practice harder / Love, Dad” The Crossover is a novel-in-verse, with long flows of prose that spill out a tale of family, love, loss and basketball.

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