Julie Hale

NonfictionBiography

Behind the lens of America’s chronicler of the strange

Review by Julie Hale

When Diane Arbus committed suicide in 1971, she was only 48 years old, and her career was on the climb. One of the foremost photographers of the 20th century, she had the remarkable ability to call up and capture the idiosyncrasies of just about anyone who submitted to her lens. As Arthur Lubow observes in Diane Arbus: Portrait of a Photographer, she “excavated the truth—or a truth” about her subjects.

In this new biography, which is brisk and accessible despite its 700-page length, Lubow tells the story of an artistically brilliant but emotionally fragile figure. During her relatively brief career, Arbus managed to capture with her camera a broad cross-section of humanity, including nudists, cross-dressers and the mentally handicapped. Born in 1923 into an affluent Jewish family (her brother was the poet Howard Nemerov), Arbus grew up in New York City. She received her first camera from her husband, Allan Arbus, with whom she started a successful fashion photography enterprise. Around 1956, she quit the business and began taking the forthright, unstaged portraits that made her famous, shooting in black and white the very young and the very old, mixed-race couples and nuclear families, millionaires, movie stars, bums, and sideshow freaks.

The book’s chronology is cued by her photographic output. In tracking the timeline of Arbus’ life through her art, Lubow brings to bear on the narrative a deep appreciation for her pictures and an impressive technical grasp of photography. An award-winning journalist, he explains the circumstances that shaped Arbus’ most iconic shots and—prompted by newly discovered letters and exclusive interviews—explores the controversy she courted by becoming close to some of her subjects. Bringing Arbus out from behind the lens, Lubow sheds new light on her genius and delivers a definitive portrait of the artist.

When Diane Arbus committed suicide in 1971, she was only 48 years old, and her career was on the climb. One of the foremost photographers of the 20th century, she had the remarkable ability to call up and capture the idiosyncrasies of just about anyone who submitted to her lens. As Arthur Lubow observes in Diane Arbus: Portrait of a Photographer, she “excavated the truth—or a truth” about her subjects.
NonfictionBiography

A fresh look at Elizabeth’s later years

Review by Julie Hale

We can’t get enough of the Tudors. Despite the centuries that have passed, the clan that began with Henry VII and ended with Elizabeth I continues to command legions of loyal subjects, from BBC watchers and biography buffs to fans of historical fiction.

Those whose fealty lies with Elizabeth I (1533–1603) should procure John Guy’s new book anon. The first substantial narrative to deeply explore the latter decades of her reign, Elizabeth: The Forgotten Years zooms in on a critical period in Tudor history, providing a fascinating close-up of an aging queen taking her final turn upon the world stage. During this crucial, conclusive epoch in Elizabeth’s 44-year rule, many of her most trusted advisors died, and she faced a protracted war with Spain. She also reckoned uneasily with her own mortality, as her physical charms and health both waned.

In researching the book, Guy had access to a trove of largely unexplored archival material, and his narrative corrects a number of inaccuracies circulated by the queen’s previous chroniclers. The conception of Elizabeth as accessible and merciful—as “Good Queen Bess”—is one such fiction Guy deflates, noting that she lived in splendor while plague and a poor economy crippled her country, a state of affairs that aroused in her subjects resentment rather than adoration. Toward the end, Guy writes, to her people, Elizabeth was “a distant image or just a name.”

In her majesty’s orbit during these years were dashing, impetuous adventurers Walter Raleigh and Robert Devereux, who sought their fortunes at sea and in war. Their romanctic exploits during a time of political instability, when the question of Elizabeth’s successor was unresolved, make the book a bit of a nail-biter. 

Guy, winner of the Whitbread Award for Queen of Scots (2005), has produced a book in which Elizabeth’s royal presence is palpable. Tudorists, take heed: This fresh consideration of the queen—a woman by turns valiant and vulnerable, jealous and generous, unapproachable and compassionate—at the finis of her rule is a rousingly good read.

 

This article was originally published in the May 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

We can’t get enough of the Tudors. Despite the centuries that have passed, the clan that began with Henry VII and ended with Elizabeth I continues to command legions of loyal subjects, from BBC watchers and biography buffs to fans of historical fiction.
YA FictionYA

Crazy antics in a high school prank war

Review by Julie Hale

Kurt Dinan’s action-packed debut, Don’t Get Caught, is a terrific pick for readers who prefer fiction with a twist of suspense. There’s nothing remarkable about the novel’s protagonist, Max Cobb. With lackluster grades and a nonexistent social life, Max doesn’t attract much attention in the halls of Asheville High. So he’s surprised to get an invitation from the Chaos Club, an anonymous group of tricksters with a long tradition of enraging school administrators through acts of mischief, from stacking tires up the campus flagpole to hacking the district’s website. To Max, who’s itching for a way to shed his humdrum reputation, this seems like pretty cool stuff.

But Max is wary about the invitation, and he soon learns that he isn’t the only one to be singled out. Four other students received a summons from the club, including his longtime crush, Ellie Wick. When the gang, following the club’s instructions, climbs to the top of the school’s freshly graffitied water tower only to get nabbed by security, they realize they’re nothing more than fall guys. Using tips picked up from his favorite caper flicks (The Fast and the Furious; Ocean’s Eleven), Max goes after the Chaos Club—and proves he can prank like a pro.

Dinan—a high school English teacher—infuses Max’s adventures with sly humor, convincing detail and just the right level of tension. From start to finish, this is a brisk and engaging debut.

Kurt Dinan’s action-packed debut, Don’t Get Caught, is a terrific pick for readers who prefer fiction with a twist of suspense. There’s nothing remarkable about the novel’s protagonist, Max Cobb. With lackluster grades and a nonexistent social life, Max doesn’t attract much attention in the halls of Asheville High. So he’s surprised to get an invitation from the Chaos Club, an anonymous group of tricksters with a long tradition of enraging school administrators through acts of mischief, from stacking tires up the campus flagpole to hacking the district’s website.

Children's & YAMiddle Grade

An enchanting forest fable

Review by Julie Hale

Henry Cole’s Brambleheart is an enchanting coming-of-age adventure with an unlikely hero: a chipmunk named Twig who just can’t seem to find his place in the world. Twig lives in the Hill—a towering heap of metal, glass and plastic bric-a-brac discarded by humans—and, like the other animals there, he’s expected to find a trade. At school, each of his fellow students seems to already have a niche: Lily the rabbit is a whiz at twisting grass into sturdy rope, and Basil the weasel is a pro at metal craft. When it’s Twig’s turn to weave or weld in front of the class, he never fails to get flustered.

One day, Twig wanders beyond the Hill into unfamiliar territory, where he comes across a mysterious round object—an egg, as it happens, that cracks open to reveal a baby dragon. Hoping to keep this astonishing discovery to himself, Twig secretly brings the creature back to the Hill. But he knows that hiding the dragon isn’t right. With a little help from Lily, Twig makes some tough decisions and begins to grow up.

Cole conjures a fully realized world in this beautifully rendered fable. His delicate yet expressive pencil drawings make the magical realm of the Hill seem concrete. Youngsters are sure to see a bit of themselves in Twig and will take heart from his example. 

 

This article was originally published in the February 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Henry Cole’s Brambleheart is an enchanting coming-of-age adventure with an unlikely hero: a chipmunk named Twig who just can’t seem to find his place in the world. Twig lives in the Hill—a towering heap of metal, glass and plastic bric-a-brac discarded by humans—and, like the other animals there, he’s expected to find a trade. At school, each of his fellow students seems to already have a niche: Lily the rabbit is a whiz at twisting grass into sturdy rope, and Basil the weasel is a pro at metal craft. When it’s Twig’s turn to weave or weld in front of the class, he never fails to get flustered.
NonfictionMemoir

Falling in love with a language

Review by Julie Hale

In her deeply personal new book, In Other Words, acclaimed novelist Jhumpa Lahiri notes that “writing in another language represents an act of demolition, a new beginning.” It’s a neat summing-up of what takes place in this brief, meditative memoir—Lahiri’s first work of nonfiction—as she shares the story of her passion for Italian and how she set out to master it.

Lahiri became enamored of Italian during her student days and studied the language somewhat casually in the years that followed. But her interest deepened over time, and in 2012 she moved with her family to Rome. Lahiri, who won the Pulitzer Prize for Interpreter of Maladies (1999), was also seeking a “new approach” to her art, and over the course of the narrative, it becomes clear that by unlocking the Italian language she makes unexpected discoveries about herself as a writer. 

But the endeavor is a humbling one. Lahiri is candid about the difficulties she encounters in gaining command of a new language. When she attempts serious prose pieces in Italian, she finds that the process of composition as she has practiced it throughout her career no longer applies. “I’ve never tried to do anything this demanding as a writer,” she admits. “I’ve never felt so stupid.”

Lahiri’s many fans will not be surprised to learn that she succeeds in her linguistic undertaking. She wrote In Other Words in Italian, and it’s presented here in a dual-language format. As the narrative unfolds and the new language forces her to relearn the rudiments of her craft, she achieves her usual artistry and delivers an impassioned valentine to the most lyrical of languages.

 

This article was originally published in the February 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In her deeply personal new book, In Other Words, acclaimed novelist Jhumpa Lahiri notes that “writing in another language represents an act of demolition, a new beginning.” It’s a neat summing-up of what takes place in this brief, meditative memoir—Lahiri’s first work of nonfiction—as she shares the story of her passion for Italian and how she set out to master it.
Children's & YAMiddle Grade

Free to be silly

Review by Julie Hale

BookPage Children's Top Pick, January 2016

Refreshingly old-fashioned: There’s no better way to describe When Mischief Came to Town. Standing in contrast to the futuristic sagas and sci-fi series that abound nowadays, Katrina Nannestad’s richly detailed story of an orphan named Inge, set in 1911 in Denmark, has an antique air that’s irresistible. 

After her mother dies, 10-year-old Inge goes to live with Grandmother on her farm on the Danish island of Bornholm. Her new life is nothing like the one she led with her mother in Copenhagen, where they had an apartment and servants. Grandmother, a prickly, inaccessible sort with dark eyes “pressed like raisins into her wrinkled face,” soon has Inge working in the stables and cleaning the kitchen—tasks that she tackles good naturedly. But her playful, spontaneous spirit seems to attract trouble. Inge sings the wrong songs in church, talks to the jam spoon and sometimes makes a mess of her chores. The starchy adults on the island—including elderly twins Olga and Tina Pedersen—don’t know what to make of her lively ways.

Will the farm ever feel like home to Inge? Although her mischievousness makes Grandmother “grumble like an ogre,” the answer is yes. Filled with moments of high humor, this delightful tale introduces a heroine readers are sure to love. Nannestad’s book has all the makings of a classic.

 

This article was originally published in the January 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Refreshingly old-fashioned: There’s no better way to describe When Mischief Came to Town. Standing in contrast to the futuristic sagas and sci-fi series that abound nowadays, Katrina Nannestad’s richly detailed story of an orphan named Inge, set in 1911 in Denmark, has an antique air that’s irresistible.
NonfictionHistory

The American Revolution through the eyes of a famous Frenchman

Review by Julie Hale

Subversive historian Sarah Vowell offers another idiosyncratic chronicle of our nation’s coming-of-age with Lafayette in the Somewhat United States. This lively account of the Marquis de Lafayette and the American Revolution is of a piece with Vowell’s previous books, which include Assassination Vacation (2005), a tour of sites dedicated to murdered American presidents, and The Wordy Shipmates (2008), a raucous look at the founding of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. These seem like sober subjects, but Vowell enlivens the proceedings with her prickly persona, her thing for slang and her taste for recondite factoids of Americana. 

With her new book, Vowell delivers a fascinating portrait of Lafayette as a dashing young French aristocrat who believed in the cause of the American colonists. Driven by a desire to make a name for himself and by a loathing for the British, Lafayette sailed to America, where he served in Washington’s army, befriending the founding father and becoming his confidant. Through the filter of the Frenchman’s story, Vowell examines the culture of the Revolution. She goes in-depth on the rifts between the Loyalists and the Patriots, between the Continental Congress and the army, and augments the trip back in time with incidents from her travels to historical spots. During a visit to Pennsylvania’s Brandywine Valley, where Lafayette was wounded in 1777, she takes in a re-enactment of the Frenchman’s story presented as—of all things—a puppet show.

The enjoyment Vowell seems to derive from poking around in America’s obscure corners is part of what makes her historical narratives vital. In tracing history’s circuitous path, she demonstrates how we got where we are today—and sheds light on where we might be heading next.

 

This article was originally published in the November 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Subversive historian Sarah Vowell offers another idiosyncratic chronicle of our nation’s coming-of-age with Lafayette in the Somewhat United States. This lively account of the Marquis de Lafayette and the American Revolution is of a piece with Vowell’s previous books, which include Assassination Vacation (2005), a tour of sites dedicated to murdered American presidents, and The Wordy Shipmates (2008), a raucous look at the founding of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. These seem like sober subjects, but Vowell enlivens the proceedings with her prickly persona, her thing for slang and her taste for recondite factoids of Americana.
Children's & YAPicture Book

New friend for an old bike

Review by Julie Hale

Parents and children alike will cherish Carolyn Beck’s That Squeak, a sensitively rendered, accessible story about grief and friendship. At the center of this beautifully illustrated tale is the bond between best buddies Jay and Joe, who shared big bike-riding adventures during an idyllic summer. Heading down the lane that led outside of town, Jay on his blue Monster Man, Joe riding his Red Devil, the pair escaped to their secret creek-side spot, where they ate apples and skipped stones. The squeak of the Monster Man’s seat was always at odds with the quiet of the countryside, and the boys came to love the noise.

But a tragedy has taken Jay away. After his funeral, his Monster Man stays locked up at school, a reminder of its lost rider. Joe, grief-stricken, resolves to take the bike home—a decision that leads to a surprising friendship with a new student named Carlos, who “looks like he never had a bike that wasn’t stolen from somebody else” and isn’t at all the type of boy Joe expects him to be.

Writing in a style that’s plainspoken yet delicately poetic, Beck brings a light touch to a difficult topic. She has a gift for arresting imagery—the boys pedal past cows with spots “like continents” and nostrils “like holes into the next universe.” François Thisdale’s gorgeous artwork—a blend of drawing, painting and digital illustration—captures the brisk energy of the boys’ bike rides while evoking the wistfulness of memory. That Squeak is definitely special, a standout story worthy of a permanent spot on the family bookshelf.

Parents and children alike will cherish Carolyn Beck’s That Squeak, a sensitively rendered, accessible story about grief and friendship.

NonfictionMemoir

A musician’s masterful memoir of place

Review by Julie Hale

In 2010, musician Patti Smith published Just Kids, a radiant memoir about her relationship with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe and their lives as bohemian babes-in-the-woods in New York City. Set in the 1960s and ’70s, the story of their coming-of-age as artists—Smith’s first full-length work of prose—won the National Book Award. 

In her new memoir, M Train, Smith trades the circus atmosphere of the psychedelic era for the here and now, offering readers a remarkably intimate look at her life in New York City. Throughout M Train she bounces between home and her favorite Greenwich Village café, where she writes in her notebook and ponders the past. Memories of her Philadelphia childhood, her extensive travels and her marriage to the late musician Fred “Sonic” Smith provide points of departure for the narrative.

Not as tightly constructed as Just Kids, M Train has a meandering quality that reflects Smith’s inquisitive, exploratory spirit. Music and speaking engagements make her a frequent flyer, and the journeys she recounts in the book are filled with surreal moments. When she falls ill before giving a talk at Frida Kahlo’s Casa Azul, she’s allowed to rest in Diego Rivera’s bed. During an unexpected rendezvous in Iceland, she sings Buddy Holly songs with chess legend Bobby Fischer. Things are equally uncanny on the homefront. Just weeks before Hurricane Sandy strikes, Smith purchases a run-down bungalow (which she fondly names the Alamo) on Rockaway Beach. Somehow the house survives the storm.

Smith turns 66 while writing M Train, but she’s still a bit of a kid. At home, she falls asleep in her clothes, ignores the mail and neglects household chores. Her writing style is at once poetic and direct. Like her trademark attire—boots, cap, coat—her narratives have a plainspoken beauty that transcends the times. An American original and a magical writer, Smith makes the reader believe in the redemptive power of art.

 

This article was originally published in the October 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In 2010, musician Patti Smith published Just Kids, a radiant memoir about her relationship with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe and their lives as bohemian babes-in-the-woods in New York City. Set in the 1960s and ’70s, the story of their coming-of-age as artists—Smith’s first full-length work of prose—won the National Book Award. In her new memoir, M Train, Smith trades the circus atmosphere of the psychedelic era for the here and now, offering readers a remarkably intimate look at her life in New York City.
FictionLiterary Fiction

Veronica

Review by Julie Hale

A white-hot novel documenting the friendship that arises between two very different women, Veronica is a heady, hallucinatory narrative—another walk on the wild side from a writer who has never shied from tackling potentially contentious topics. Mary Gaitskill’s work (which includes the short story that inspired the 2002 film Secretary) is often characterized by a dark eroticism and probes the raw emotional states of characters on the edge.

Veronica is narrated by a has-been fashion model named Allison whose career peaked during the ’70s, and who, having survived that era of glitter and excess, is now paying the price. Suffering from hepatitis C, Allison, all but broke, lives in California, in a drab quarter of San Rafael. The narrative spans only a single day, but it covers a great deal of ground, moving in and out of the present as the 46-year-old Allison looks back on her life. As a teenage runaway during the 1960s, she ends up in San Francisco, living in a purple rooming house and selling flowers in nightclubs, until she meets Alain, a bigwig in the modeling industry. He takes her as his mistress, and her ascent as a model ensues.

But when, a few years later, Alain betrays her, Allison’s career stalls, and she is forced to work at an ad agency in New York. There, she meets Veronica, an editor with attitude. Outspoken, brash, older by a decade, Veronica is frumpy and unhip, the antithesis of Allison and an improbable ally. Yet the two develop an enduring friendship, and the durability of their bond stands in contrast to the disposability of Allison’s relationships with her fellow models and with various lovers.

Learning that Veronica has AIDS, which she contracted from a promiscuous, bisexual boyfriend, triggers a complex range of emotions in Allison, including feelings of guilt. In the end, she finds in Veronica’s decline a reflection of her own journey, as her looks begin to fade, and she is forced to come to terms with her humanity. Gaitskill’s lively portrayal of the carefree ’70s and affluent ’80s, her superlative powers of description and delicate handling of sensitive topics have resulted in a profound narrative about beauty and mortality, loss and redemption.

 

A white-hot novel documenting the friendship that arises between two very different women, Veronica is a heady, hallucinatory narrative—another walk on the wild side from a writer who has never shied from tackling potentially contentious topics.
FictionLiterary Fiction

Veronica

Review by Julie Hale

A white-hot novel documenting the friendship that arises between two very different women, Veronica is a heady, hallucinatory narrative—another walk on the wild side from a writer who has never shied from tackling potentially contentious topics. Mary Gaitskill’s work (which includes the short story that inspired the 2002 film Secretary) is often characterized by a dark eroticism and probes the raw emotional states of characters on the edge.

Veronica is narrated by a has-been fashion model named Allison whose career peaked during the ’70s, and who, having survived that era of glitter and excess, is now paying the price. Suffering from hepatitis C, Allison, all but broke, lives in California, in a drab quarter of San Rafael. The narrative spans only a single day, but it covers a great deal of ground, moving in and out of the present as the 46-year-old Allison looks back on her life. As a teenage runaway during the 1960s, she ends up in San Francisco, living in a purple rooming house and selling flowers in nightclubs, until she meets Alain, a bigwig in the modeling industry. He takes her as his mistress, and her ascent as a model ensues.

But when, a few years later, Alain betrays her, Allison’s career stalls, and she is forced to work at an ad agency in New York. There, she meets Veronica, an editor with attitude. Outspoken, brash, older by a decade, Veronica is frumpy and unhip, the antithesis of Allison and an improbable ally. Yet the two develop an enduring friendship, and the durability of their bond stands in contrast to the disposability of Allison’s relationships with her fellow models and with various lovers.

Learning that Veronica has AIDS, which she contracted from a promiscuous, bisexual boyfriend, triggers a complex range of emotions in Allison, including feelings of guilt. In the end, she finds in Veronica’s decline a reflection of her own journey, as her looks begin to fade, and she is forced to come to terms with her humanity. Gaitskill’s lively portrayal of the carefree ’70s and affluent ’80s, her superlative powers of description and delicate handling of sensitive topic matter have resulted in a profound narrative about beauty and mortality, loss and redemption.

 

A white-hot novel documenting the friendship that arises between two very different women, Veronica is a heady, hallucinatory narrative—another walk on the wild side from a writer who has never shied from tackling potentially contentious topics.
NonfictionSocial Science

The Big Easy’s big come-up

Review by Julie Hale

August 29 marks the 10th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, the most expensive natural disaster in U.S. history and the storm that delivered a near-mortal blow to the city of New Orleans. An estimated 250 billion gallons of water inundated the Big Easy when its levee system failed, damaging four out of every five homes in the city.

Those and many other sad statistics can be found in Gary Rivlin’s Katrina: After the Flood, a clear-eyed account of New Orleans’ efforts to come back from the 2005 catastrophe. In the opening chapters, Rivlin provides a recap of the incomprehensibly awful first days of the flood. He then moves forward to tell a larger tale of bureaucracy gone epically awry—a story of city rebuilding strategies hatched and abandoned, of planning committees formed and dissolved, of political rivalries old and new. Writing in an authoritative yet accessible style, he tracks the ways in which these factors slowed New Orleans’ rebirth. 

A question central to the city’s future is whether damaged communities that stand a good chance of flooding again—areas like the Lower Ninth Ward and New Orleans East—should be redeveloped or written off. Resolving that question and settling upon a general restoration strategy turn out to be agonizing tasks for government officials and citizens alike. 

Rivlin weaves in powerful personal accounts from a cross-section of survivors—black and white, working class and affluent. While it’s clear that the city remains a work in progress, there is some good news. A new flood-protection system has been built and the city’s population has increased, thanks in part to an influx of artists and entrepreneurs. 

A skillful storyteller, Rivlin delivers a fascinating report on a city transformed by tragedy.

 

This article was originally published in the August 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

August 29 marks the 10th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, the most expensive natural disaster in U.S. history and the storm that delivered a near-mortal blow to the city of New Orleans. An estimated 250 billion gallons of water inundated the Big Easy when its levee system failed, damaging four out of every five homes in the city.
NonfictionFamily & Relationships

Navigating the new world of romance

Review by Julie Hale

It’s a match made in heaven: Aziz Ansari, one of America’s top comics, and the subject of love. In Modern Romance, Ansari delivers dispatches from the front lines of dating in the digital age and proves to be as befuddled by love as the rest of us. 

The “Parks and Recreation” star is up front about the fact that his own lack of success with the ladies provided the motivation for writing the book, but it’s much more than a comic romp. For research assistance, Ansari enlisted NYU sociology professor Eric Klinenberg, and Modern Romance is filled with their findings—case studies, factoids and hard data that demonstrate how dating has evolved in our device-driven era, a time when the quest for amour is both aided and complicated by the omnipresent Internet. 

A smartphone is like “a 24-7 singles bar,” Ansari says. “Press a few buttons at any time of the day, and you’re instantly immersed in an ocean of romantic possibilities.” Of course, navigating that ocean can be a challenge. While technology expedites connection, it comes with its own set of singular difficulties, and Ansari explores many of these, providing survey-supported info on the best way to initiate a date (phone call versus text message), how to take a winning photo for a dating site (girls, avoid using pix in which you’re posing with an animal or guzzling a Bud) and more.

Ansari broadens his scope by reaching into the past—he talks to seniors at a retirement home about what their love lives were like—and pondering timeless questions: How prevalent is cheating? Do you need to get married? His report on the contemporary pursuit of a perfect partner mixes solid research with hilarious riffs—all delivered Ansari-style. It’s an irresistible pairing. 

It’s a match made in heaven: Aziz Ansari, one of America’s top comics, and the subject of love. In Modern Romance, Ansari delivers dispatches from the front lines of dating in the digital age and proves to be as befuddled by love as the rest of us.

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