Linda M. Castellitto

Mystery & SuspenseMystery

The Distant Dead

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

The small town of Lovelock, Nevada, is nestled in brush-dotted hills that crouch under unending blue sky—an eerie desert landscape that sets a tone of creeping dread in Heather Young’s The Distant Dead.

Young, an Edgar Award nominee for her first book, 2016’s The Lost Girls, has crafted a story that begins with a horrific discovery and expands to explore the weight of familial obligation, the far-reaching devastation of drug addiction and the ways in which guilt and boredom can curdle into something much more sinister. And so: Sixth-grader Sal Prentiss goes to the fire station to report that he’s found a burned body while, in another part of town, social studies teacher Nora Wheaton is wondering why her colleague Adam Merkel hasn’t shown up to work. He’s a math teacher and it’s Pi Day—surely he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to have math-centric fun with his class? No one else seems very concerned, not least because the enigmatic Adam keeps to himself and doesn’t engage in gossip, but Nora can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Alas, her instincts are validated when she learns that Adam is the victim.

It’s incomprehensible; what enemies could he possibly have? He’s been very kind to Sal, teaching the boy chess at lunchtime and helping him navigate a hard life with his taciturn uncles on an isolated ranch outside of town. Nora’s not confident the relatively inexperienced police will be able to solve the case, and she’s also been feeling unfulfilled, due to a dream deferred: she went to college for anthropology but left early to care for her argumentative alcoholic father. She decides to investigate Adam’s death, and Young shuttles the reader back and forth in time as she unfurls the characters’ relationships and life paths, with all their secrets and hopes and disappointments.

The suspense is slow and steady in this meditative, artistic take on the murder mystery—the author’s language is poetic, and her contemplation of the corrosiveness of suppressed emotion is both sympathetic and impatient: When will people learn? This is an unusual, compelling portrait of a people and a place where the future always seems impossibly far away.

The small town of Lovelock, Nevada, is nestled in brush-dotted hills that crouch under unending blue sky—an eerie desert landscape that sets a tone of creeping dread in Heather Young’s The Distant Dead.

Young, an Edgar Award nominee for her first book, 2016’s The…

Children's & YAPicture Book

Joy

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Kittens are furry balls of unbridled energy, careening around the house at lightning speed and then plunging into sleep wherever they happen to land. They’re adorable and fearless agents of household delight and chaos. In Joy, Yasmeen Ismail and Jenni Desmond winningly capture kittenhood for an aptly titled read-aloud. 

A gray tabby kitten named Joy bats and flings around a red ball of yarn with abandon: “Jingle jangle, wriggle wrangle, in a tangle.” Desmond’s swooping lines expertly and entertainingly evoke a kitten in perpetual motion, a smile always on her face, the brightly colored house her playground. A stripey brown cat and an enormous dog observe Joy’s hijinks with tolerant amusement, perhaps recalling their own wild younger days—until, unable to resist, they join in on the fun. 

And then! Joy takes a tumble and scares herself into stillness. Mama Cat gives Joy a soothing hug while Dog stands supportively by as they tell her, “I think you’re going to be just fine. Give yourself a little time.” Readers will cheer to watch as, fortified by this reassurance, Joy recovers lickety-split and triumphantly rubber-bands around the room once again.

Ismail and Desmond’s take on tiny felines is hilarious and sweet. Ismail’s giggle-inducing onomatopoeic rhymes wend their way through Desmond’s kinetic (kitten-ic?) artwork, as Joy’s exclamatory inner monologue amusingly punctuates the whirlwindy, somersaulting sequences. Desmond’s heavy pencil strokes are enervated by her vivid watercolors, and she uses white space to excellent effect during Joy’s manic moments, providing necessary breathing room for zooming and boinging galore. 

Joy is a warm and funny testament to the energy of youth, the rejuvenating powers of a comforting hug and the resilience of those who feel supported with love.

Kittens are furry balls of unbridled energy, careening around the house at lightning speed and then plunging into sleep wherever they happen to land. They’re adorable and fearless agents of household delight and chaos. In Joy, Yasmeen Ismail and Jenni Desmond winningly capture kittenhood for…

FictionThriller

Take Me Apart

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Renowned photographer Miranda Brand was just 37 when she died by suicide in 1993, leaving behind her husband, Jake, a painter, and her 11-year-old son, Theo. The news stunned the art world—after years of struggle, eccentric and daring Miranda seemed to be once again hitting her stride—and the small beach town of Callinas, California, in which the family lived.

In 2017, erstwhile copyeditor Kate Aitken has been hired by Theo to archive his mother’s personal effects, a job that piques Kate’s journalistic curiosity and offers the potential for healing after sexual harassment drove her to flee her job in New York City. But in Sara Sligar’s engrossing and powerful debut novel, Take Me Apart, this exciting opportunity soon becomes something much darker.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Sara Sligar on the American cult of celebrity.

As Kate dives deep into the artifacts of Miranda’s life (including a lyrically written yet deeply disturbing diary), she becomes consumed by Miranda’s pain and neglects her own. It doesn’t help that Aunt Louise, who’s hosting Kate’s stay, is an accomplished manipulator, adept at pecking away at her niece in search of juicy details. As Kate fends off the town gossips, she struggles to keep her own counsel. Despite a nondisclosure agreement, she’s begun snooping around the house and Callinas in search of answers about Miranda’s death. Was it actually suicide, or is someone—Theo, the police, former friends, a smart but sleazy gallerist—keeping deadly secrets?

The novel is written in alternating timelines and perspectives, with well-researched nods to the 1970s-1980s Manhattan art scene and keenly felt deep dives into Miranda’s unraveling mental state as she contends with her husband’s increasing jealousy and resentment. As the past unfolds via Miranda’s flotsam-and-jetsam memories and Kate’s increasingly feverish investigation, Sligar prompts readers to muse on the ways in which artists often suffer greatly for their creations, especially if they are women. She also, with great empathy, explores the potentially devastating effects of untreated mental illness and the downsides of ambition, success and fame.

Take Me Apart is rife with fascinating dichotomies—gossip is corrosive but sometimes useful; trauma is torturous but may inspire powerful art; success is desirable but exhausting to maintain—and offers a fresh look at the legacies we leave behind, in all their painful and powerful humanity.

Renowned photographer Miranda Brand was just 37 when she died by suicide in 1993, leaving behind her husband Jake, a painter, and 11-year-old son Theo. The news stunned the art world—after years of struggle, eccentric and daring Miranda seemed to be once again hitting her stride—and the small beach town of Callinas, California, in which the family lived.

Children's & YAPicture Book

A Green New Day

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Oh, the joy of wandering around outside on a lush summer day!

Antoinette Portis’ A New Green Day captures perfectly the delight of exploring the natural world with a curious mind and an open heart. In the author-illustrator’s inventive hands, everyday things become extraordinary and the prosaic becomes poetic. A green leaf’s veins strikingly emulate the tree from which the leaf fell, and a rainstorm becomes “a chorus of a million tiny voices.”

From sunrise to sunset, clever riddles create a call-and-response between the book and its readers, their proxy a little girl who skips about the pages, long braids a-twirl. The solutions to each riddle revealed though the turning of a page. “I’m a comma in the long, long sentence of the stream,” says . . . the tadpole! And “a candy sucked smooth in the river’s mouth?” That’s a smooth speckled stone. The guessing-game aspect of the book offers a lovely way to spark discussion and wonderment, suitable for younger kids who are only beginning to learn about nature, as well as older kids who will get a kick out of debating the answers to each of the questions.

Portis invites young readers (and the adults who may share the book with them) to look at things in an entirely new way, to challenge their impressions of the familiar and allow for new interpretations of what they see. Her spare yet powerful verses are sure to spark an increased engagement with our environment, which will in turn serve to make nature more relevant to curious children.

Fittingly, a range of textures in the illustrations make the book a visual feast. There are concentric ripples in water and tiny grains of sand, sharp slices of lightning and blurry daubs of mud. In A New Green Day, weather and light and living things coexist as they inhabit and create each new tomorrow. It’s an engaging tribute to our surprising and awe-inspiring natural world, an invitation to get outside and experience each day through the lens of our vivid, ever-changing imaginations.

Oh, the joy of wandering around outside on a lush summer day!

Antoinette Portis’ A New Green Day captures perfectly the delight of exploring the natural world with a curious mind and an open heart. In the author-illustrator’s inventive hands, everyday things become extraordinary and…

Children's & YAMiddle Grade

Echo Mountain

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Twelve-year-old Ellie feels at home in the Maine woods of Lauren Wolk’s Echo Mountain. Her parents lost their home in the Great Depression and were forced to move, along with many neighbors, to the woods, where Ellie learned to hunt, fish and start a fire. Now, Ellie’s skills and confidence put her at odds with her resentful mother and older sister, who miss their former life in town.

Wolk vividly invokes the shock of losing an old way of life—of trading sidewalks for pine-needle paths, of swapping paper currency for barter with haircuts, eggs and firewood. She also sensitively conveys the swirl of emotions surrounding the accident that has put Ellie’s dad in a coma for months and left his family in a state of suspended grief. Ellie’s mother and sister blame Ellie for the accident, and Ellie’s mother copes by discouraging her daughter’s adaptability and curiosity, worrying that she’s becoming too wild.

Despite these hardships, Ellie remains determined to use her skills to keep her family safe and fed and to find a way to wake up her father. Her dubious yet logical efforts on this front are humorous and heartbreaking—and, just maybe, hopeful. Ellie’s life contains some big mysteries, as well. Who is leaving her beautifully carved miniature figurines? Might the “hag” who lives up the mountain know how to heal her father?

Fans of Wolk’s previous novels, including the Newbery Honor book Wolf Hollow, will once again relish the author’s evocative and touching language (Ellie cuts her hair “because the trees kept trying to comb it”) and her gift for revisiting history through the lens of fulsome and fascinating characters. In this complex, memorable novel, Wolk explores themes of social responsibility, modern versus traditional medicine, biological versus chosen family and more. 

Through it all, the book pays heartfelt tribute to resilience and resourcefulness. As seen through the indefatigable Ellie’s wise young eyes, no detail, emotion, creature or scrap of fabric on Echo Mountain is too small to be without value.

Twelve-year-old Ellie feels at home in the Maine woods of Lauren Wolk’s Echo Mountain. Her parents lost their home in the Great Depression and were forced to move, along with many neighbors, to the woods, where Ellie learned to hunt, fish and start a fire.…

NonfictionMemoirEssays

My Life as a Villainess

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Laura Lippman does not feel bad about her neck. Like, at all. In fact, she writes in My Life as a Villainess, “I have decided, at the age of 60, that I am a goddamn knockout.” She is, objectively, but that statement’s about more than her appealing physical self; it’s a celebration of finally shedding decades of societally induced self-consciousness about food and her body. The essay in which it resides, “The Whole 60,” with its “positivity, damn it” vibe, is a fitting kickoff to a smart, thoughtful, sometimes vulnerable, always witty collection of essays. Some are new, some previously published, and together they offer an overview of a very special life so far.

Lippman is aware of and thankful for said specialness, and she acknowledges her good fortune often. She adores her brilliant cultural-phenomenon-creator husband, David Simon, known for TV shows “The Wire” and “Treme,” et al. She loves her charming 10-year-old, who made Lippman a mom at 50; is fiercely grateful for a dazzling nanny named Yaya; and treasures her friends, even if she’s pretty sure she isn’t such a great friend to them sometimes.

Before she was known for her critically lauded crime novels (her Tess Monaghan series, 12 books and counting, plus 10 standalones), Lippman was a newspaper reporter for 20 years. In “Waco Kid,” she writes of her early career struggles as a newly minted reporter adjusting to the alien Texas landscape, aghast at endemic racism but also thrilled at her burgeoning love of movies. Her later years as a reporter in her beloved city of Baltimore honed her prodigious writing and editing skills, but she’s still pissed that her growing off-the-clock career as a novelist was held against her (as opposed to male colleagues, who were praised for similar endeavors). In “Game of Crones,” she’s hilariously ticked off about menopause, too, and drops trash-talk and name-drop tidbits here and there like so many tasty, snappy breadcrumbs. There’s also a lovely remembrance of Anthony Bourdain (“Fine Bromance”) and a paean to a double boiler (“Revered Ware”), a cookware-as-tribute to her late father, who was also a journalist.

With its “gleefully honest” hits of humor and willingness to take a close look at some discomfiting truths, it will come as no surprise to Lippman’s fans that My Life as a Villainess is an engaging read—an intrepid investigation of the author’s inner landscape and a raucous, no-holds-barred visit with that friend you admire for her candor, passion and unabashed nostalgia for 1980s fashion.

With its “gleefully honest” hits of humor and willingness to take a close look at some discomfiting truths, Laura Lippman’s essay collection is an engaging read.
Mystery & SuspenseMystery

Hid From Our Eyes

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Fans of Julia Spencer-Fleming’s Clare Fergusson/Russ van Alstyne mysteries will be delighted to learn the Episcopalian priest and her police chief husband are back in Hid From Our Eyes.

In this ninth installment of the New York Times bestselling and award-winning series, Spencer-Fleming takes a long view of the dark side of human nature via characters who investigate three unsolved murders that span decades and haunt the lives of the residents of Millers Kill, a small town in upstate New York’s Adirondack Mountains. Each murder victim was a pretty young woman clad in a pricey party dress, found in the middle of the road with no indications of who or what caused her death.

In the present day, Russ van Alstyne is the police chief tasked with solving the latest murder; in 1972, he found a victim’s body during a motorcycle ride and became a person of interest in the ultimately unresolved case. It’s fascinating to move among the various time periods, meeting Russ when he was an angry just-returned-home Vietnam veteran and then again when he’s a calm and driven policeman. Spencer-Fleming tracks the frustrations of the law enforcement and medical professionals stymied by a lack of clues, witnesses, technology or some combination thereof. Flashbacks and flash-forwards are understandably tricky, especially among multiple eras, but Spencer-Fleming handles them with skill and ease, using secrets and revelations alike to ramp up the suspense and create a chain of investigation and mentorship among the police chiefs of each successive generation.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Julia Spencer-Fleming on exploring questions of faith and mentorship.

She also writes with compassion for those who struggle, whether with PTSD, financial strain or, like Clare, finding a satisfying balance between nervous new motherhood and a demanding job (while maintaining sobriety and pitching in as a dogged amateur sleuth, to boot). Hid From Our Eyes lets readers spend time inside the marriage of two beloved characters and follow along as they race against time to solve a confounding murder case that is threatening Millers Kill’s sense of unity and safety. The author also explores PTSD among returning veterans, small-town politics, class conflict, gender identity, religion and more in this multifaceted exploration of community and crime in a small town.

Hid From Our Eyes is an exciting return to a beloved series, as well as an intriguing entry point for readers new to the world of Russ, Clare and Millers Kill.

Fans of Julia Spencer-Fleming’s Clare Fergusson/Russ van Alstyne mysteries will be delighted to learn the Episcopalian priest and her police chief husband are back in Hid From Our Eyes.

NonfictionMemoirMedicine

The Lady’s Handbook for Her Mysterious Illness

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

In her new memoir, The Lady’s Handbook for Her Mysterious Illness, Sarah Ramey writes about the 2012 day her music video featuring her alter ego, Wolf Larsen, premiered on NPR. It starred a red-lipsticked, vibrant version of herself, and it went viral online while she remained ill, exhausted, frustrated and alone at home.

This moment is but one of many, many times Ramey struggled to put on a happy face while her reality was much more painful. She is what she calls a WOMI, or “woman with a mysterious illness.” In the last 30 years, instances of autoimmune illnesses have tripled, and our medical system has not yet developed a respectful, effective way of working with such patients. Instead, skepticism and dismissiveness (the classic it’s-all-in-your-head response) is the norm, writes Ramey, and people, predominantly women, are staying sick.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our interview with Sarah Ramey.

Ramey’s angry about that, and she explains why with intelligence, humor and impressively thorough and far-ranging research into the various ailments that stem from trauma, exposure to harmful chemicals, consumption of unreal foods, overuse of antibiotics and more—diseases that defy easy diagnosis and a straightforward cure. They’re often invisible, too: WOMIs may look great even as they feel their worst, and that only increases the doubt among medical professionals, or even family or friends.

Ramey shares her own personal health journey, including conventional and alternative treatments; strategies she’s tried that have brought relief (or haven’t); and what she’s learned about the immune system and the gut. She also makes an impassioned case for profound change in our health care system, which, she argues, is out of balance because it lacks consideration and compassion: “We excel at acute (heroic, eliminate the bad guy) illness and can’t for the life of us solve chronic (heroinic, root system) illness.” She urges readers, especially those who are WOMIs, to be open to sharing their stories and asking for change, in an effort to bring about a cultural shift before it’s too late—since what we’re doing now clearly isn’t working for millions of people.

The Lady’s Handbook for Her Mysterious Illness is a stirring and inspiring rallying cry, an engaging and often harrowing personal story (or, as Ramey quips, “a kicky memoir about my gyno-rectal disease”) and an eminently worthwhile read.

In her new memoir, The Lady’s Handbook for Her Mysterious Illness, Sarah Ramey writes about the 2012 day her music video featuring her alter ego, Wolf Larsen, premiered on NPR. It starred a red-lipsticked, vibrant version of herself, and it went viral online while she…

Mystery & SuspenseSuspense

No Bad Deed

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Heather Chavez’s No Bad Deed is a fast-paced, high-anxiety tale of a good Samaritan’s offer of assistance gone very, very wrong. On her drive home from work after a 12-hour shift at her veterinarian practice, Cassie Larkin pulls over to mop up a spilled drink—and sees a man throw a woman into a ravine.

A shocked Cassie calls 911 and, despite the dispatcher’s exhortations to stay in her minivan, she gets out and stumbles down a steep hill in an attempt to save the woman. The attacker offers a terrifying bargain—“Let her die and I’ll let you live”—before running off, stealing Cassie’s van (as well as her wallet and keys) along the way. The woman lives, and Cassie pushes through her shock and fear to give a statement to Detective Ray Rico, who tells her, “Every crime is personal, even the random ones.” But Cassie can’t imagine how on earth this crime could have anything to do with her, nor can she figure out why Rico seems to be regarding her with skepticism rather than focusing on catching the criminal who knows where she lives and has the keys to her house.

Exhausted and distraught, she pushes the weirdness aside and goes home, hoping the police will soon catch said criminal and resolving to start fresh tomorrow. Alas, rather than a festive day with a candy-filled finale, Cassie’s Halloween ends on a strange and terrifying note. Her husband Sam takes their 6-year-old daughter trick-or-treating and then disappears. Cassie wonders if he’s having an affair, but can’t believe that he would abandon their child.

Chavez, a former newspaper reporter, does an excellent job of pulling the reader along with Cassie as she tears around town assembling clues in an effort to figure out what the hell is going on. Thanks to the uncanny timing, Cassie wonders if Sam’s disappearance is related to the bizarre assault she witnessed. That would be a wild coincidence, but as the hours pass and the danger and strangeness increases, Cassie’s sense of reality warps and changes, and her instincts are increasingly at odds with what she’s seeing and hearing.

No Bad Deed is an exciting exploration of what might happen when a person’s ordinary life is suddenly thrown into chaos, and knowing whom or what to trust is no longer possible. It’s also a delightfully Harlan Coben-esque tale of the ways in which the past can influence the present—for better or much, much worse.

Heather Chavez’s No Bad Deed is a fast-paced, high-anxiety tale of a good Samaritan’s offer of assistance gone very, very wrong.

NonfictionTrue CrimeAnimals

The Falcon Thief

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Typically, the phrase “true crime” brings to mind stories of serial murderers—not of, say, thieves and traffickers of rare eggs. But in The Falcon Thief: A True Tale of Adventure, Treachery, and the Hunt for the Perfect Bird, Joshua Hammer (The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu) has crafted a story that will fascinate readers craving a dramatic true tale of confident criminals, denizens of shadowy underworlds and the law enforcers who strive to catch and punish them.

First, the bad guy. Jeffrey Lendrum is an audacious criminal who travels the world stealing rare eggs from birds of prey and selling them to uber-wealthy falcon enthusiasts in the United Arab Emirates. Our hero, Andy McWilliam, is a career police officer who rose to the top of the U.K.’s National Wildlife Crime Unit, thanks to his success tracking and capturing wildlife-related criminals such as badger-baiters, zookeepers and real estate developers. But his specialization, of course, is ornithological crime solving.

Hammer’s exploration of the factors that culminated in egg trafficking is thorough and fascinating, offering context and entertainment alike. He plumbs the origins of falconry, which began as a means of survival (peregrines were trained hunters) and over the centuries evolved into the high-dollar, high-stakes sport it is today. In Dubai, there’s a falcon hospital, research center and the President Cup, a racing event with an $11 million purse. It’s mind-boggling, but in Hammer’s hands it makes a bizarre kind of sense: Rather than collecting jerseys and memorizing stats, falcon-obsessed men (they’re all men, it seems) steal and collect eggs, keep meticulous notes and are always planning their next get. The wealthiest members of this group in the UAE hire out such tasks to men like Lendrum who thrive on the adrenaline rush of plundering nature.

Hammer paints a vivid portrait of the thrill of the chase and the long-term relationship between criminal and police officer—both of them smart and daring, neither of them willing to give up. The Falcon Thief also shines a light on the world of wildlife crime: its perpetrators, addicted to their pursuits; its wealthy and Machiavellian masterminds; and our heroes, who work toward ensuring that all creatures are safe from the greedy and devious few. Ultimately, this book is a fine tribute to McWilliam and to others dedicated to conservation, and a compelling deep dive into the psyche of a very specific sort of criminal.

Typically, the phrase “true crime” brings to mind stories of serial murderers—not of, say, thieves and traffickers of rare eggs. But in The Falcon Thief: A True Tale of Adventure, Treachery, and the Hunt for the Perfect Bird, Joshua Hammer (The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu)…

Mystery & SuspenseMystery

First Cut

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

In Dr. Judy Melinek and T.J. Mitchell’s First Cut, medical examiner Dr. Jessie Teska works on the victims of “sudden, violent, and unexpected deaths,” from accidents to suicide to murder. And in Jessie’s first week at her new job, a homicide case launches her life into chaos: A young woman has died from a drug overdose and, it turns out, used to work for one of Jessie’s mercurial new bosses. His reaction makes Jessie wonder if it’s an innocent connection or something darker—but how will she balance a proper investigation with complicated, unfamiliar office politics?

Questions mount and danger rises as Jessie strives to juggle a heavy caseload, leave past hurts behind and figure out whom she can (and cannot) trust. Drug dealers, detectives, lawyers and bitcoin brokers figure into this atmospheric, San Francisco-set tale, which is peppered with humor thanks to Jessie’s wit, as well as Bea the high-spirited beagle and Sparkle the whip-smart bail-bonds lady. Jessie’s forays into dating and romance add sexy fun, and her musings on our collective corporeal vulnerability are by turns humbling (“The cops could drag their feet and stonewall . . . all they want. The body never lies.”) and alarming (à la lists of cases like “jaywalker hit by a bus, a gunshot suicide, a skateboard versus a hydrant, and a stabbing homicide”).

The married authors—whose first book was the bestselling 2014 memoir Working Stiff: Two Years, 262 Bodies, and the Making of a Medical Examiner—expertly employ their know-how, maintaining blood-and-guts vérité while empathetically exploring what it’s like to do a job with actual life-and-death stakes. First Cut is a fascinating, entertaining series kickoff, with a particularly kickass heroine.

 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our Q&A with Judy Melinek and T.J. Mitchell.

In Dr. Judy Melinek and T.J. Mitchell’s First Cut, medical examiner Dr. Jessie Teska works on the victims of “sudden, violent, and unexpected deaths,” from accidents to suicide to murder.

NonfictionArts & Culture

Don’t Believe a Word

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Remember when Madonna moved to England and her accent became quite posh? According to David Shariatmadari, we shouldn’t scoff at the pop superstar, or at anyone else whose accent changes with their location. They can’t help it, thanks to a linguistic phenomenon called accommodation.

That’s but one interesting tidbit in the information-packed Don’t Believe a Word: The Surprising Truth About Language. Shariatmadari, a Londoner and editor at The Guardian, has crafted an intensive course for the curious novice and seasoned linguist alike. Via the book’s nine chapters, he explores and debunks common myths about language by way of history, scholarship, societal trends and his own passionate views on all of the above.

The biggest myth is one with teeth: Someone’s always complaining that language is in decline. It is not, the author says; rather, it’s just people making “statements of preference for the way of doing things they have become used to,” versus any actual damage to the way we communicate. He also argues that etymology, or the background and history of words, is not the only way to determine meaning. While those elements are fascinating, he writes, they’re largely irrelevant to what truly matters: “explaining language as it is now.”

Shariatmadari thoughtfully addresses the roles of politics, power and geography regarding how we speak, as well as which languages are considered valuable (or not)—most notably in regard to African American Vernacular English (AAVE). He also offers a history of the word toilet; explains why AI speech will never truly sound human; asserts that Italian is a dialect, not a language; ponders whether we can talk to animals; and much more.

Right now is an “exciting phase” in the study of linguistics, and Shariatmadari thinks we should be excited, too. After all, he writes, people “shouldn’t just settle for knowing how to use [language]. To understand it is to understand what it means to be human.” Don’t Believe a Word is a heartfelt and illuminating starting point on the path to that understanding.

Remember when Madonna moved to England and her accent became quite posh? According to David Shariatmadari, we shouldn’t scoff at the pop superstar, or at anyone else whose accent changes with their location. They can’t help it, thanks to a linguistic phenomenon called accommodation.

That’s…

NonfictionEuropean HistoryBiography

Walter Ralegh

Review by Linda M. Castellitto

Every hero has an origin story, rife with obstacles overcome, devastations endured and triumphs achieved. As historian, professor and author Alan Gallay elucidates in Walter Ralegh: Architect of Empire, Sir Walter Ralegh is no different. In fact, Gallay argues, although Ralegh did join his contemporaries in continual and violent efforts to gain land and power for Queen Elizabeth I, his philosophy and approach were different from—and more admirable than—the rest, and should be remembered as such.

Gallay, the Lyndon B. Johnson chair of U.S. history at Texas Christian University and author of the Bancroft Prize-winning The Indian Slave Trade: The Rise of the English Empire in the American South, 1670–1717, has long immersed himself in studies of the Atlantic region of the American South. And, as he notes in his acknowledgments, he’s wanted to write about Walter Ralegh for 15 years. This book is the culmination of long-term, intensive research. It’s Gallay’s case for considering Ralegh not as a failure (due to the widely known fate of the Roanoke Colony in Virginia and to Ralegh’s unsuccessful search for the legendary city of El Dorado) but as an intelligent, creative and influential man.

According to Gallay, many biographies of Ralegh “fail to see the Tudor context in which he lived and in which the [British] empire unfolded.” The author devotes considerable attention to said context, from explaining that Queen Elizabeth I was viewed as a vengeful goddess to detailing the ways in which Ralegh and his fellow colonizers disagreed on how to view the occupants of the land they colonized. (Ralegh preferred the utopian goal of partnering. His fellow courtiers leaned toward enslavement.) Gallay also describes British forays into Ireland, North America and South America in extensive, sometimes suspenseful, detail, and takes an in-depth look at the politics behind Ralegh’s imprisonments in the Tower of London and his eventual punishment by death.

Gallay has crafted a richly detailed portrait of a courtier, poet, author and alchemist who, he argues, should inspire readers to approach history from a different angle. Rather than teleology, or “reading history backward from what occurred at its end,” we’d do well to start from the beginning and learn how people like Ralegh’s “activities and ideas paved the way forward.”

Every hero has an origin story, rife with obstacles overcome, devastations endured and triumphs achieved. As historian, professor and author Alan Gallay elucidates in Walter Ralegh: Architect of Empire, Sir Walter Ralegh is no different. In fact, Gallay argues, although Ralegh did join his contemporaries…

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