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One has the right to expect decency even of a poet, George Orwell said, poet standing for both the supercilious, sandal-shod poetaster of yore and for self-absorbed, courtesy-flouting artists in all media who feel that their high calling allows them to treat the feelings and even lives of lesser mortals with contempt. Not to mention their attitude toward rival poets, which is often one of feral savagery.

Well, you can expect ’til the cows come home, as Orwell well knew, and you are likely to come up empty-handed. The poet, like his distant cousin, the academic, lives with an abnormally high fear that someone may be gaining on him and, what is worse, with the secret knowledge that the someone deserves to.

Too bad Orwell never met Ross Macdonald. The encounter would have gone a long way toward restoring his faith in the decency of poets. But Orwell died in 1950, just about when Macdonald, whose real name was Kenneth Millar, was beginning his quarter-century run with his series of novels featuring the private detective Lew Archer.

Fortunately we can meet him in Tom Nolan’s Ross Macdonald: A Biography, one of the finest and most affecting biographies I have read in years. It sensitively and intelligently covers all aspects of Millar’s art and life. The greatest of its virtues, I think, is that it gives us, largely through extensive interviews with people who knew him, a rounded picture not only of Macdonald the writer, but of Millar the man, husband, father, and citizen.

But, as the Wise Old Newspaper Filosofer once said, one thought per column, and the thought I’d impress upon you in this column is . . . what a thoroughly decent, considerate, kind, ethical, and humble man Millar was. Not simply because those can be rare qualities in the arts, but because they form a strain running all through Nolan’s book.

Millar gave aid and comfort to fellow writers and to aspiring writers. He wrote long, thoughtful replies to fans who sent him enthusiastic letters. He helped those in trouble; the singer-songwriter Warren Zevon credits Millar with saving his life. Millar was even nice toward those who treated him shabbily, like his forerunner and eventual rival for literary reputation, Raymond Chandler, who apparently thought (correctly) that someone was gaining on him.

Nor was he, as so often happens, a hero to the world and a monster to his family. His wife Margaret Millar, equally renowned as a mystery writer, apparently could be a bit of a dragon, but they loved and supported each other through more than four decades of marriage. Both agonized over the emotional troubles of their only child Linda, who died at 31.

Still, one thought per column aside, they don’t write biographies of people for being nice; they write them because they achieved something. It would be futile in this short oblong of space to try and explain Millar’s achievement as a writer. Nolan and his interviewees explain it superbly. A Bantam publicist caught it succinctly. With Lew Archer, the publicist said, Ross Macdonald began the trend away from writing mystery novels to writing novels that dealt with mysteries. The distinction is everything, and Macdonald did it with distinction.

There is much more besides in this superior biography. For one thing, an examination of Southern California culture, which was Macdonald’s essential subject. It also evokes the wonderful time in publishing before the book culture broke down into the blockbuster mentality, when a writer could turn out a book a year, each one better than the last, and, though none sold in great numbers, be patiently supported by his publisher (in this case, Alfred A. Knopf), who saw merit in what the writer was doing and the possibility of greater profits on the horizon.

It ends sadly. Alzheimer’s disease began eroding Millar’s powerful intellect and creativity around the age of 60. It is as pitiful to read about as the stroke that left H.L. Mencken, famously verbal all his life, inarticulate for eight years. Margaret took care of Millar, and if occasionally she did it with less than perfect grace, well, she had her own physical frailties to deal with. Millar’s grace, however, was fully intact. He made no claim for sympathy, a friend said, no protest against fate. Kenneth Millar died in 1983 at the age of 67. Margaret died in 1994, aged 79. Nolan’s book makes you mourn their loss nearly as much as that of your own kin.

Roger Miller is a freelance writer. He can be reached at roger@bookpage.com.

One has the right to expect decency even of a poet, George Orwell said, poet standing for both the supercilious, sandal-shod poetaster of yore and for self-absorbed, courtesy-flouting artists in all media who feel that their high calling allows them to treat the feelings and…

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Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk. The Bee Gees almost had it right in this Saturday Night Fever anthem. Had they said, Renaissance man, it would have come closer to the truth. Aviator, scientologist, actor, father, singer, dancer, lover, fighter, Travolta is all these things and more. And in Travolta: The Life, British writer Nigel Andrews chronicles this protean fellow’s rise to superstardom. This book is essential reading for Travolta fans, but for those not yet converted, it’s worth a look just for the photos. For one thing, author Nigel, that wily (desperate?) sleuth, includes a few shots of (not from) a scrapbook of Travolta’s childhood neighbor. Could the faceless blur in that plastic sheath possibly be the icon of today lounging in a lawn chair circa 1970? It just might be.

Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man, no time to talk. The Bee Gees almost had it right in this Saturday Night Fever anthem. Had they said, Renaissance man, it would have come closer to the truth.…

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Heigh-ho, the glamorous life! goes a lyric by Stephen Sondheim, but no American popular composer has ever had a more glamorous life than Cole Porter. He may have been born in the provinces (Peru, Indiana, 1891), but he had money and charm from the start, and after a classy education at Worcester Academy and Yale, where he wrote songs for revues, he was already contributing music to Broadway shows in his early 20s. Along with his admirer Irving Berlin, he was one of only a small handful of composers complete in one package, always writing both music and lyrics. His style was therefore inimitable and unmistakable. A Cole Porter song is still synonymous with urbanity, sophistication, verve, sultry wit.

Porter’s story has been popular with biographers for more than two decades (he died in 1964), and it’s easy to see why. He was the greatest American bon vivant of his day. He traveled the world, knew all manner of nobility, was a fixture of club life in Paris and New York, hobnobbed with all the show business greats, and stayed on top in the musical theatre world for 30 years. Even after a horse-riding accident in 1937 shattered both his legs, crippling him and leaving him in pain for the rest of his life, he kept on taking the revenge of living well. He always knew how and where to have the best possible time.

Like his predecessors, William McBrien is fascinated with the shining surfaces of Cole Porter’s life and doesn’t delve deeply into his subject’s psychology. Today, of course, we can forget the fiction of Night and Day, the movie biography of Cole and Linda Porter’s marriage, and McBrien nonchalantly discusses Porter’s numerous homosexual liaisons. What really gives his book vivacity, however, is his attention to the social personalities of those who buzzed around the Porter hive. We meet such legends as Elsa Maxwell and Ethel Merman as well as the nimble Fred Astaire and the dapper Noel Coward (who, as another recent book showed, was Porter’s soul-mate). From chapter to chapter we are at Broadway openings triumphs and bombs and it is an exhilarating tour. Photographs abound to illustrate these events. Perhaps best of all, McBrien never forgets Porter’s real achievement his songs. Throughout he quotes at delicious length from the best, the cleverest and most affecting lyrics Porter wrote. He even uses lyric lines as chapter titles: Take Me Back to Manhattan, I’m in Love with a Soldier Boy, Down in the Depths. All those who love the standards of American popular song will delight in seeing these great lyrics again, in noting the fine light poetry they are. Readers will want to go out and rent Kiss Me, Kate or High Society, the two ’50s movies that showcased Porter’s last great composing phase. In the latter Porter wrote of what a swell party it was, and most of this biography leaves the same impression.

Heigh-ho, the glamorous life! goes a lyric by Stephen Sondheim, but no American popular composer has ever had a more glamorous life than Cole Porter. He may have been born in the provinces (Peru, Indiana, 1891), but he had money and charm from the start,…

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David Michaelis notes, in this handsomely illustrated and carefully detailed biography, that the artist acclaimed as dean of American illustrators did not want to think that his future reputation depended upon his narrative painting. Even though, by 1942, his name was stamped on the spines of a long shelf of literature, more than a hundred volumes, Newell Convers Wyeth still felt after 40 years of picture making that everything he had done seemed insufficient. Part of the reason for that sense of inadequacy was that, all his life, N.C. Wyeth wanted to shake the dust of the illustrator from his shoes and emerge into the art world as a real painter. Following Wyeth’s death, October 19, 1945, in a car-train collision, the magnitude of his work still appeared ambiguous if not misunderstood. The Washington, D.C. Evening Star wrote: Thousands of people admired his achievements without comprehending why they were good. On the other hand, he was a painter’s painter, an illustrator’s illustrator. But those qualities that made him supreme as an illustrator are just those qualities that distinguish Wyeth as a real painter. Through his narrative paintings for Treasure Island (1911) to those in The Yearling (1939) in masterpiece after masterpiece of illustration Wyeth thrilled the viewer with the danger and excitement of seeing

David Michaelis notes, in this handsomely illustrated and carefully detailed biography, that the artist acclaimed as dean of American illustrators did not want to think that his future reputation depended upon his narrative painting. Even though, by 1942, his name was stamped on the spines…

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Out of the stereo speakers comes the sound of the low strings of an acoustic guitar. A pattern emerges from the sounds and then a voice appears, also low and breathy. Three hours from sundown . . . The lyrics impart a story that matches the spare, haunted landscape of the music. It is a story about flight, about escaping a place without fully knowing where you are going. In this way the song is also about a search a search dictated more by a muse than by a plan. Such was the life and music of Nick Drake. Born in Burma to an upper-middle class English family, Drake, his parents, and his older sister returned to England when he was a young boy. The young Nick was educated in public school and then went on to Cambridge to study literature. The 1960s electrified Cambridge, and in the burgeoning scene Drake expanded his passion for music and the guitar. After leaving Cambridge, Drake landed a recording deal with a then up-and-coming folk producer named Joe Boyd and proceeded to record three albums for release on a young label named Island Records. Then at 26 Drake was found dead by his mother in their family home. The Drakes had lost their only son and the world an incredible talent.

Given a brief outline on Drake’s life one can turn to Patrick Humphries’s new biography in order to flesh out the details. Though neither Drake’s sister nor his producer conceded to talk to Humphries about the lost brother/singer-songwriter, Humphries’s research turns up everyone from schoolyard chums to session musicians and scenesters who knew the artist and the man. Almost all who knew Drake paint a portrait of a fragile, introverted man who seemed too delicate for this world. Humphries great talent as a biographer comes in bringing this ephemeral character to light against the backdrop of the English folk scene of the ’60s and ’70s. Drake’s dislike of performing live as well as doing interviews left little material to research. Poor record sales combined with an inherent manic-depressive condition finally took their toll on the troubled man. In the end Humphries’s biography serves as a wonderful tribute to a lost soul an almost Robert Johnson-like singer and guitarist whose muse eventually drew him from our world.

Charles Wyrick plays guitar for the band Stella.

Out of the stereo speakers comes the sound of the low strings of an acoustic guitar. A pattern emerges from the sounds and then a voice appears, also low and breathy. Three hours from sundown . . . The lyrics impart a story that matches…

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Marilyn Monroe has been the subject of countless books, ranging from lavish pictorials to bonafide oddities including a biography, published earlier in the decade, penned by a quartet of psychics who interviewed the spirits of the deceased Monroe, the Kennedys, and others. But don’t think the Monroe saga has been played out in print. The scholarly biography, Marilyn Monroe, looks as the indelible ’50s icon through a distinctly different lens, providing a vivid portrait of an enigmatic woman who could be both strong and self-willed, as well as fragile. For this fresh depiction, Barbara Leaming author of respected biographies of Orson Welles, Rita Hayworth, and Katharine Hepburn has focused on a tangled love triangle set against the era’s tumultuous political atmosphere. Monroe was a struggling 24-year-old hopeful a party girl who was passed from man to man, as she sought to further her career when she became involved with the acclaimed theater and film director Elia Kazan. At the same time she met and was attracted to his colleague, the distinguished playwright Arthur Miller. After going on to dazzle audiences with her undeniable charisma and her talent the lush-bodied, luminous Monroe achieved superstardom. She also married baseball great Joe DiMaggio, who dearly loved the woman but not her career. All the while, Monroe’s life continued to intersect those of Kazan and Miller. When marriage to DiMaggio crashed, Monroe found solace in New York, where she hobnobbed in the heady theater world and came under the spell of acting guru Lee Strasberg and his Actor’s Studio. She also married Miller, who like Kazan had come under the scrutiny of the House Un-American Activities Committee, which was conducting witchhunt-like investigations into the ties between show business and the Communist Party. The hearings would impact the careers of both men who each reacted differently before HUAC. (Kazan ratted out fellow artists who had had Communist ties; Miller refused.) Throughout Miller’s ordeal, Monroe showed surprising resolve never wavering in her support of her husband. But she disintegrated in other ways, as she unsuccessfully battled her demons with the use of pills and alcohol. The former Norma Jeane Baker used to relate how, at the age of three months, she was nearly smothered in her crib by her mentally ill mother. When she died at age 36 a suicide, per Leaming she may have been finishing what her mother had started.

The ultimate suicide blonde? Another death theory is explored in another book out this month, The Last Days of Marilyn Monroe, by Donald H. Wolfe and D.W. Wolfe (William Morrow).

Biographer Pat H. Broeske’s latest book is about that other enduring ’50s icon, Elvis Presley.

Marilyn Monroe has been the subject of countless books, ranging from lavish pictorials to bonafide oddities including a biography, published earlier in the decade, penned by a quartet of psychics who interviewed the spirits of the deceased Monroe, the Kennedys, and others. But don't think…

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Thomas More’s Christian faith was inseparable from all other aspects of his life. All of his public achievements a brilliant career as a lawyer, administrator, diplomat, and writer as well as his exemplary private life were linked with his understanding of the authority of the Church and the primacy of the pope. Early in the 16th century, More was part of the larger European community of scholars, associated with the new humanism, and a close friend of Erasmus. But with the writings and actions of Martin Luther and others much closer to him in England, the secure foundations of the world More had know began to collapse around him. Among other actions, he ordered heretics to be burned at the stake. In the face of Henry VIII’s challenge tot he authority of the established religious order, More remained steadfast and died a martyr, a man of conscience.

But the complex life of More, one of the most sophisticated and powerful men in the England of his time, remains enigmatic in many respects. In The Life of Thomas More, acclaimed novelist (Chatterton, Hawksmoor, Milton in America) and biographer (William Blake, Charles Dickens, T.S. Eliot) Peter Ackroyd gives us a fresh and compelling recreation of More and his times. Ackroyd has the rare ability to not only vividly explore the sights, sounds, and personalities of the late 14th- and early 15th-century England, but to also illuminate More’s intellectual development. He shows us how More’s emotional as well as reasoned commitment to religious faith developed naturally within the comfortable and prosperous household of his childhood. And later, as he studied law, it is made clear, as Ackroyd writes, that religion and law were not to be considered separately; they implied one another. Ackroyd notes that More’s death came to define him. The biographer explores the religious controversies of the time and notes the stories of cruelty and death for both Catholics and Protestants, in which More was involved. The fiery polemics, the intolerance, the unyielding positions of figures on all sides. Ackroyd writes that after his resignation as Lord Chancellor, the highest post next to the King, More’s attention was focused on heretics. It remained the greatest battle of his life and, deprived of the chance to imprison or to burn, he returned to angry and elaborate polemic. The biographer’s novelistic skills are much in evidence as he deeps events and personalities moving steadily along. He is also careful about his use of sources. Although he relates anecdotes of questionable authenticity, he is careful to give the reader warning.

A biography of More is unlikely to please everyone. Ackroyd has been judicious, and as balanced as an open-minded reader could wish. The last 100 pages or so as More awaits his fate wanting his death to be for the right reason, as he views it, and not treason are beautifully done.

Thomas More's Christian faith was inseparable from all other aspects of his life. All of his public achievements a brilliant career as a lawyer, administrator, diplomat, and writer as well as his exemplary private life were linked with his understanding of the authority of the…

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Film writer Andy Dougan chronicles the topsy-turvy career of the alien-turned-Oscar winner in Robin Williams. Dougan details Williams’s life through a series of interviews with various insiders, including the actor himself. Readers are introduced to Williams’s often lonely childhood and travel with Williams to his Academy Award acceptance speech for his role in Good Will Hunting. This is not a smooth journey — there are many stops, stalls, and re-starts along the way. Very thorough and engaging.

Film writer Andy Dougan chronicles the topsy-turvy career of the alien-turned-Oscar winner in Robin Williams. Dougan details Williams's life through a series of interviews with various insiders, including the actor himself. Readers are introduced to Williams's often lonely childhood and travel with Williams to his…

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The writings on Abraham Lincoln are almost too considerable to calculate, thus testifying to his endurance as historical personage, iconic hero and the source of curiosity for endless researchers. But with the bicentennial of his birth upon us, a wealth of recent publications retrace his life and legacy, hoping to shed new—or merely refocused—light on all that is already known about the man.

Ronald C. White Jr.’s A. Lincoln: A Biography is an imposing doorstopper of a book, close to a thousand pages and exhaustively annotated and referenced. As near as any interested reader might determine, White has left absolutely no stone unturned, from an account of forebear Samuel Lincoln leaving England for the New World in 1637, to the family struggles in Kentucky and Indiana, to the young Abe’s adventurous younger years, to his rise as lawyer and politician in Illinois, and on through the Civil War and the grief of the nation upon his assassination in 1865.

White’s research benefits from the availability of the recently completed Lincoln Legal Papers—which offer a more thorough view of Lincoln’s law practice—and also the emergence of newly discovered letters and photos. Besides a sense of Lincoln’s integrity—something pretty much easily assumed by most anyway—it is perhaps the man’s smartly practical spirit that emerges through this stout tome, in particular as relates to the great political issues before him (e.g., slavery) and the difficult task of guiding his armies and a nation through a horrific war, which tested every aspect of daily life and constantly demanded a nurturant sense of its absolute necessity. Finally, Lincoln rises up in this volume as a patriot of the ultimate rank, one with a determined eye on the prize: Union.

Presidential brief
Abraham Lincoln is an entry in the highly regarded American Presidents series, originally under the editorship of the late Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr. These volumes are usually authored by distinguished journalists or historians, and, once in a while, by noted politicos, in this case former South Dakota senator and 1972 Democratic presidential candidate George S. McGovern. McGovern capably sticks to the series formula, which involves a more general overview of the subject’s life and career, along with a development of the key themes that shaped his most important actions. McGovern’s tone is laudatory throughout, as he offers insights into Lincoln’s attitudes on politics, the war and his most dearly held personal beliefs. Coverage is from hardscrabble Kentucky beginnings to the last moments at Ford’s Theatre. This is a fine read for those who want to know about Lincoln but may not have time for the more in-depth biographies.

Inside the Lincoln White House
Pulitzer Prize winner James M. McPherson’s Tried by War: Abraham Lincoln as Commander-in-Chief mines a topic that’s been touched upon previously in many other publications—Lincoln dealing with the command aspects of war. Yet the author offers an engrossing narrative that shows how Honest Abe grasped the reins of his new and heretofore untested presidential duties, while also examining his difficulties in dealing with a string of Army generals whose failings often proved vexatious. McPherson gives us a Lincoln who, after taking office, immersed himself in a crash course on military strategy, then steadfastly applied what he’d learned to the enormous task at hand. Leaving the micro-issues of campaigns and tactics to his military men, Lincoln nevertheless consistently prodded them with commonsensical admonishments on the value of stalking the enemy and striking hard when necessary. Flummoxed by the vain and overly cautious McClellan, the unprepared Burnside, the disappointing Hooker and the merely competent Meade, Lincoln finally found his fighter in Ulysses Grant. McPherson effectively mixes the political undercurrent of events with his deconstruction of Lincoln’s process in eventually achieving victory.

Daniel Mark Epstein’s Lincoln’s Men: The President and His Private Secretaries captures the lives of Lincoln’s secretaries—John Hay, John Nicolay and William Stoddard—each of whom claimed Illinois roots by virtue of residence, education or work. Nicolay had essentially run Lincoln’s 1860 presidential campaign, Stoddard had been a supportive Illinois newspaperman, and the youngest, Hay, came recommended as a young poet and fresh graduate of Brown University. Epstein mixes their accounts into one narrative, with the obvious bulk of the material focused on their time in the White House, where the trio basically comprised the whole of the president’s staff. Nicolay did the chief executive’s scheduling and Hay ran interference; this duo eventually went on to jointly publish a seminal Lincoln biography years later. Stoddard, originally hired as a patent officer at the Interior Department, juggled several jobs, including assisting the president with his speeches, but eventually dealing more with the affairs of Mrs. Lincoln. Hay ultimately established the biggest name for himself—he was secretary of state under McKinley and Teddy Roosevelt. This is a readable joint biography that connects its subjects to Lincoln with legitimacy.

His final act and legacy
Lincoln’s last year as president was certainly taken up in large part with the prosecution of the war, but, as Charles Bracelen Flood makes clear in 1864: Lincoln at the Gates of History, the man was also dealing with intense extracurricular political matters. Somehow continuing to more or less efficiently battle the Confederate Army, Lincoln meanwhile dealt with the presence of French troops in Mexico, grousing cabinet members, myriad technical issues regarding the continued settling of the expanding American West and related railroad legislation, not to mention the onslaught of a stormy re-election campaign, which brought with it endless pressure from an often-hostile press and infighting within his own party about the terms of impending Reconstruction and the disposition of the freed-slave issue. Flood’s extensively sourced text tracks the official Lincoln in great detail, while also making sure the well-researched quoted excerpts provide insight into the president’s admirable character and manners and incredible strength under pressure.

The Lincoln Anthology: Great Writers on His Life and Legacy from 1860 to Now would make an astute gift for any Lincoln buff, but it’s a definite keeper for any home library as well. Editor Harold Holzer (whose Lincoln President-Elect was released last fall) gathers more than 100 works composed by writers, historians and politicians, from Lincoln’s time to the present day. The pieces represent all genres—essays, novels, plays, biographies, speeches, magazine articles, poetry and memoirs—and the topical coverage is essentially universal. That includes discussions on Lincoln’s fascination with language, the lost love of his life (Ann Rutledge), his historic debates with Stephen Douglas, his outlook on race and religion, his daily work regimen, and his politics and policies. Men and women of verse are here in force (Robert Lowell, Mark Van Doren, Stephen Vincent Benét, Marianne Moore, Carl Sandburg, etc.), and the general range of contributors throughout is all-encompassing (Emerson, Marx, Hawthorne, Stowe, Ibsen, Melville, Twain, Tolstoy, Wicker, Vidal, Safire, Doctorow et al.). Walt Whitman, perhaps Lincoln’s most ardent literary fan, weighs in with no fewer than nine separate contributions. Arrangement of the entries is chronological, but Lincoln diehards can pick this one up and start reading just about anywhere.

Thanks to Abraham Lincoln, Martin Brady believes in the “better angels of our nature.”

The writings on Abraham Lincoln are almost too considerable to calculate, thus testifying to his endurance as historical personage, iconic hero and the source of curiosity for endless researchers. But with the bicentennial of his birth upon us, a wealth of recent publications retrace his…

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As the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin’s birth arrives, along with it come three books celebrating the scientist and his revolutionary ideas. All three offer intriguing views on the man and his theories, and their mutual impact on society and science.

Darwin’s Sacred Cause: How a Hatred of Slavery Shaped Darwin’s Views on Human Evolution by Adrian Desmond and James Moore places Darwin and his ideas within the context of the worldwide struggle with slavery that eventually exploded into the American Civil War. Darwin was born into a family at the forefront of the British abolitionist movement, growing up during the days of Wilberforce—British emancipation was passed while Darwin was aboard the HMS Beagle. But that was an opening salvo, and to Darwin’s horror the pro-slavery forces latched onto science as a rationalization, declaring that the various races of man were distinct species created independently—with Europeans conveniently the dominant race. This idea was anathema to Darwin on a moral level as well as a scientific one, and authors Desmond and Moore set out to show how Darwin’s fury over slavery drove his theory of the unified descent of man as much as did his innate curiosity about nature.

Darwin’s Sacred Cause is a compelling narrative, well researched and convincingly presented, offering a new understanding of who Darwin was and the passions that motivated his thought. Particularly eye opening is the surprising connection between Darwin’s theory and the Christian abolition movement as they together fought a scientific community that rejected the Christian belief that all mankind was descended from a single pair. The story of that unlikely alliance is fascinating to follow, full of colorful characters both noble and vile, revealing how science and religion were debased by the evil of racism.

Darwin’s Garden: Down House and ‘The Origin of Species’ by Michael Boulter uses the garden of Darwin’s country home—Down House—as a picture of the progress of evolution science and ongoing biological studies. Still in existence today (maintained both as a museum and a living laboratory as Darwin used it), the garden at Down House becomes, in Boulter’s words, a metaphorical path through both history and modern science, its plants and animals offering the same insights to the reader as for Darwin. Here are fascinating glimpses into the lean edge of modern biological science, beautifully tied to the simple pleasure Darwin found in experimenting in his garden. Like a stroll with the scientist himself, the book points out that for all we do know about life, we still do not even fundamentally understand the events happening in a quiet English garden, much less the raucous turmoil of the living world. Science, like life, Darwin might say, continues to evolve.

After Darwin
Banquet at Delmonico’s: Great Minds, the Gilded Age, and the Triumph of Evolution in America by Barry Werth is as much about the societal impact of Darwin’s theory as it is about Darwin himself. On November 9, 1882, a remarkable group gathered at the famous Delmonico’s Restaurant in New York to host a banquet honoring the ideals of evolution, and in particular the philosopher of evolution, Herbert Spencer. Though Darwin himself had died seven months before, everyone attending acknowledged the naturalist as the founder of the movement (with the possible exception of the rarely humble Spencer). It was a night to praise the ideals of evolution and look forward to the golden age the philosophy would bring. The dignitaries present ranged from the capitalist Andrew Carnegie to the famed preacher Henry Ward Beecher, with an assortment of scientists, politicians and orators mixed into the bunch. The story of how each came to be at the banquet is the story of how Darwin’s theory of evolution was influencing American thought in the latter 19th century.
Werth’s book is a thoroughly involving read, weaving history and biography together as the various actors move toward the culminating dinner. It is a tale of philosophy, science, political chicanery, public scandals, capitalism, socialism and eccentricity on many sides. The final contrast between the attendees’ assumptions compared to the eventual progress of history (for good and ill) ends the book on an ironic note. The banquet at Delmonico’s may not have signaled a triumph for anyone, but the book is a deliciously evolving read.

Howard Shirley writes from Franklin, Tennessee.

As the 200th anniversary of Charles Darwin’s birth arrives, along with it come three books celebrating the scientist and his revolutionary ideas. All three offer intriguing views on the man and his theories, and their mutual impact on society and science.

Darwin’s Sacred Cause: How a…

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This season’s crop of new baseball books offers some revealing journalism that leads readers onto the sport’s less traveled basepaths. Meanwhile, notable bios in the lineup incorporate some of the game’s most compelling history into their pages.

Calling the shots
Bruce Weber’s As They See ’Em: A Fan’s Travels in the Land of Umpires  might be the most original piece of reportage on the baseball front in years. While so much of the baseball literature is invested in the achievements of the players, Weber goes another—and totally refreshing—route, getting the inside dope on the lives and careers of umpires. Seemingly taken for granted and tolerated as a necessary evil, umpires are a critical part of the game, yet the culture and economics of the profession, as Weber so keenly chronicles, are generally second-rate. While players routinely become millionaires, most umpires spend their lives in the minor leagues, with slim chances for advancement to the major leagues. They suffer years of unglamorous travel with no guarantee of financial payoff, all the while enduring verbal abuse from fans, players and managers, as well as the indifference of league executives who hire and fire them. The umpire’s life is a solitary one, and as part of his homework, Weber actually enrolls in a noted umpiring school, gains some hard-won expertise, and travels to Podunks across America watching his newfound brethren at work. Later, Weber pulls a Plimpton-like, fantasy-fulfillment stint as third-base ump at a major league exhibition game. Throughout, the author charts umpiring history, profiles some of the legendary practitioners, explains recent labor disputes and attempts to clarify some famous on-the-field incidents, whenever possible conducting firsthand interviews to get the stories behind the controversial calls. 


Major stories from the minor leagues
In a similar vein, Matt McCarthy’s Odd Man Out: A Year on the Mound with a Minor League Misfit draws readers into the small-town world of baseball’s minor leagues, but comes at it from the POV of the struggling young player. In 2002, author McCarthy was a talented pitcher at Yale, good enough to enter the Anaheim Angels’ farm system. McCarthy winds up in a rookie league in Provo, Utah, surrounded by Mormons in the stands and, in the clubhouse, an eclectic collection of teammates, including coddled, high-priced bonus babies, blue-collar wannabes, colorful dudes with vague moral compasses and also Latin players who speak very little English. Heading up the team is veteran minor league manager Tom Kotchman, who emerges as a lovably eccentric baseball lifer on a par with some of the comical characters the world met in Jim Bouton’s classic Ball Four some 40 years ago. McCarthy only lasts the one season, then gets his walking papers for good at spring training 2003. McCarthy’s memoir was drawn from diary entries, and his recollections have been disputed by some the individuals he played with, but the entries are absorbing, including his encounters with a fair number of players who have since made the grade at the major league level.

Life lessons

Straw: Finding My Way, co-authored with John Strausbaugh, tells the life story of former outfielder Darryl Strawberry, who, after excellent years with the Mets in the 1980s—including a World Series championship in 1986—eventually had to confront many demons. Son of an abusive alcoholic father, Strawberry traversed some very dark personal roads—drugs (all kinds), sex, paternity suits, chaotic marriages, run-ins with police—then watched physical injury take a toll on his baseball career. He attempted comebacks, and even had success in the ’90s with the Yankees, but not before he was stricken with colon cancer, which he has battled courageously. This book functions rather as Strawberry’s attempt to make his peace with friends, relatives and God, while working his way to a cathartically gained perspective on both his failures and his commitment to a more responsible life.

Yogi Berra: Eternal Yankee is a biography of another kind: that of a beloved baseball legend who conducted himself in exemplary fashion both on and off the field. Born into a modest Italian-American immigrant home in St. Louis in 1925, Berra showed promise early on but World War II interrupted his minor-league career. Serving in the Navy—and seeing duty at the Normandy landings on D-Day—Berra eventually joined the New York Yankees in 1946 and began a spectacular Hall of Fame career as a catcher and outfielder. Journalist Allen Barra’s book is the first full-bodied accounting of Berra’s life, and, along the way, he essentially tells the story of the great Yankee teams of the 1950s and ’60s. He also covers Yogi’s managerial stints (which met with mixed results) and opines on his subject’s famous penchant for originating colorful aphorisms. Many archival photos cover every area of Yogi’s life.

An overlooked legend
Michael D’Antonio’s Forever Blue: The True Story of Walter O’Malley, Baseball’s Most Controversial Owner, and the Dodgers of Brooklyn and Los Angeles is a well-researched book that covers the life of the late owner of the Los Angeles Dodgers and also recalls the pivotal events that led to his moving the team from Brooklyn to the West Coast in 1957. O’Malley is a key historical baseball figure, but heretofore not much has been known about him by the general reading public. A lawyer involved originally in the Dodgers’ finances, he took controlling ownership of the franchise in 1950, fielding some great teams, including the 1955 squad that defeated the Yankees in the World Series. O’Malley was vilified by Brooklynites with the move to Los Angeles, but D’Antonio’s account implies that O’Malley’s apparently sincere attempts to keep the team in Flatbush were thwarted by competing commercial interests and stodgy city officials, which eventually forced him to seek greener pastures for “Dem Bums.” D’Antonio writes consistently well, and his book fills an important gap in baseball history.

Martin Brady blogs about sports at Sports Media America.

 

This season’s crop of new baseball books offers some revealing journalism that leads readers onto the sport’s less traveled basepaths. Meanwhile, notable bios in the lineup incorporate some of the game’s most compelling history into their pages.

Calling the shots

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The star names shine particularly bright on the bookshelves this holiday season. Where to begin? How about age before beauty . . .

The good ol’ boys
The life, times and works of an iconoclast filmmaker are examined in Robert Altman: The Oral Biography. Author Mitchell Zuckoff rounded up family members (including exes), associates and countless actors who assess the director known for ensemble casts, overlapping sound, a dense and naturalistic style and disdain for the Hollywood system. To Altman, the great films were inexplicable; a moviegoer might not be able to recount the plot, but they knew they’d experienced something. Little wonder Altman’s Nashville is so revered.

A former documentary filmmaker (see 1957’s compelling The James Dean Story) who directed episodic TV in the late ’50s and early ’60s, Altman became a counterculture force with the 1970 film M*A*S*H. (He had nothing to do with the TV series, which he hated.) Critical successes followed, as did flops. But the rollercoaster career was never boring. Neither was the hard-living Altman, who died in 2006 at the age of 81. As confounding as his films, he was alternately gregarious, self-absorbed and bitter. He demanded loyalty from the troops; sensing otherwise, he held a grudge. “His eyes were fantastic instruments of reprimand and reproach,” recalled composer John Williams. But as careers go, Altman gave it his all, and he did it the hard way—by remaining true to himself.

Another famous maverick is the subject of the unauthorized American Rebel: The Life of Clint Eastwood. But this is no “gotcha” tome; author Marc Eliot is reverential as he links Eastwood’s personal life with his professional choices. Based largely on previously published works, the book moves along quickly, fueled by Eliot’s astute knowledge of the Eastwood filmography, including the performer’s three essential screen personae: The Man With No Name (the spaghetti Westerns); nihilistic “Dirty” Harry Callahan; and the good-natured redneck. All “are viscerally connected to the real-life Clint,” Eliot argues. Eastwood’s Army days were a conduit to Hollywood—and beyond. As a base lifeguard and projectionist, he met young actors like David Janssen and Martin Milner, who served in the Special Services. (Like Janssen and Milner, Eastwood became a contract player at Universal.) Being stationed at Fort Ord allowed him to explore the fabulous Northern California coastline—and the quaint city of Carmel, where he would ultimately become mayor.
Like the men he has portrayed, Eastwood goes his own way, and is not to be crossed. Though he had a long first marriage, he was never the faithful type. Over the years and under the radar, he fathered four illegitimate children, in addition to two with his first wife and one with the current Mrs. Eastwood (who is much younger than Eastwood’s 79 years). A palimony suit involving his former lover, actress Sondra Locke, put his unorthodox personal life in the spotlight. But his cinematic artistry on the big screen has remained unspoiled over the years—a testament to hard work, resourcefulness and a deft understanding of moviegoer’s tastes. As for Eastwood’s special allure, the Italian director Sergio Leone once said, “It seemed to me Clint closely resembled a cat.” He’s moved like one, too—pouncing to the top of the Hollywood fence.

Glamour girls
Though Liz Taylor long ago lost her perch as a leading lady, her name continues to evoke fame like few others. William J. Mann dissects the crafty machinations of her stardom in the biographical How to Be a Movie Star: Elizabeth Taylor in Hollywood. The author, who last wrote about Katharine Hepburn, interviewed Taylor sources and exhaustively examined the publicity that has accompanied the life and career of a woman who once casually observed that she couldn’t recall when she wasn’t famous. Mann concentrates on what he calls the “chocolate sundae” years—those of the great films and great romances. That period encompasses her carefully staged illnesses and botched suicide attempt, the Liz-Eddie-Debbie drama, the scandalous Liz-Dick Cleopatra hookup, her friendships with gay icons Monty Clift and Rock Hudson . . . which all played out publicly, with Liz working the media. Say what you will about her, the woman knew how to be a star.

Grace Kelly knew how to evoke style, class and an on-screen cool. Celebrity biographer Donald Spoto met her in her incarnation as Princess Grace of Monaco, while writing one of his many books on Alfred Hitchcock, director of three films in which she starred. At her request, he waited 25 years after her death to write High Society: The Life of Grace Kelly, a respectful take on a woman whose impassive calm hid great passion (there were many lovers) and whose serenity masked her melancholy.

Another screen icon is profiled in Doris Day: The Illustrated Biography, by frequent BBC broadcaster and prolific celebrity biographer Michael Freedland.The book hits the career highlights and personal benchmarks of a complex woman whose life is at odds with her sunny image. First published in the U.K. in 2000, the book doesn’t include recent events in Day’s life, such as the death in 2004 of her only son, record producer Terry Melcher. But the slender volume succeeds as a stocking stuffer-sized introduction to the vivacious actress-singer-animal rights activist.

All about Paul
Ending on a musical note, Paul McCartney: A Life, is a page-turner that depicts McCartney as an ambitious, intuitive musical innovator, ever in competition with the rougher-edged John Lennon. Peter Ames Carlin, author of an acclaimed bio of the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson, is a journalist-fan who’s dug deep and written authoritatively. It’s all here: the genesis of the Beatles; McCartney’s relationship with the sophisticated and cultured Jane Asher—and her family (with whom he lived); his romances and marriages; the contractual battles with John and Yoko. And of course, there’s the music, with Carlin arguing that it was the “cute” Beatle who was the real force behind the Fab Four. Be prepared to be convinced.

Author-journalist Pat H. Broeske has written about Hollywood for publications including the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times and Entertainment Weekly.

The star names shine particularly bright on the bookshelves this holiday season. Where to begin? How about age before beauty . . .

The good ol’ boys
The life, times and works of an iconoclast filmmaker are examined in Robert Altman: The Oral Biography. Author…

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Critics who decry Black History Month celebrations often claim they focus too much on well-known figures and personalities and don’t reaffirm the importance of recognizing African-American accomplishments on a regular basis. But a series of new books by noted scholars and authors refute those contentions. While they certainly cover familiar names and major events, they also demonstrate why these people and places have not only affected the lives of black people, but changed the course of history in a manner that affects all Americans.

The political passions of youth
Wesleyan University history professor Andrew B. Lewis’ The Shadows of Youth: The Remarkable Journey of the Civil Rights Generation spotlights the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), established in 1960, whose members were younger and more radical than their counterparts in the NAACP and other black organizations. Through interviews with key members Marion Barry, Julian Bond, Bob Moses, Diane Nash and Bob Zellner, he examines the sit-ins, voter registration drives and protest marches that led to the dismantling of state-sanctioned segregation throughout the South.

But the book also shows the split within SNCC between those who felt America could be changed politically (Bond, Barry and John Lewis) and others who were convinced that black America’s only hope was a philosophy of self-determination that ultimately became known as “Black Power” (Stokely Carmichael, H. “Rap” Brown). Unfortunately, this conflict splintered SNCC, as did the Democratic Party’s decision to withdraw federal support, largely due to fears about the group’s direction. Still, The Shadows of Youth shows that SNCC had a large, mostly positive impact on the Civil Rights movement, and that its major goals weren’t nearly as radical as many claimed.

Building a landmark case
Attorney and author Rawn James Jr.’s Root and Branch: Charles Hamilton Houston, Thurgood Marshall, and the Struggle To End Segregation examines the celebrated 1954 Brown v. Board of Education case by profiling the lives of its two principal architects. Charles Hamilton Houston, the first black man on the Harvard Law Review, was a brilliant lawyer and teacher, and Thurgood Marshall was one of his students at Howard University. This pair opened the NAACP’s legal office and spent years devising the legal campaign against educational disparity that culminated in the Brown case. Sadly, Hamilton died before the case was fully developed, but Marshall would victoriously argue it, and ultimately end up on the Supreme Court himself after breaking the back of the “separate but equal” philosophy of education.

Migration and culture
University of Maryland Distinguished Professor of History Ira Berlin’s The Making of African America: The Four Great Migrations studies four centuries of black relocation to and within America. Berlin begins with the first two migrations—the forced relocation of Africans to America in the 17th and 18th centuries and the movement of slaves to the interior of the South during the 19th century. Berlin also presents what he deems an updated approach to African-American culture, one that doesn’t just cover progress from slavery to civil rights, but also incorporates the struggles of more recent black immigrants to the U.S. He draws comparisons, for example, between the two most recent migrations—the movement of thousands of African Americans from the rural South to the industrial North and Midwest between 1915 and 1970 and the growth of the foreign-born black population in the U.S. that mushroomed during the last part of the 20th century. Berlin believes that the cultural and social contributions to both black life and America in general by recent immigrants from Africa, Europe, the Caribbean and other areas have been sizable and often overlooked. The Making of African America contains its share of controversial views about black culture, but it is thoroughly researched and well-documented.

Nina Simone: a life divided
Award-winning journalist Nadine Cohodas has previously penned definitive books on Dinah Washington and Chess Records, and her latest biography covers a beloved, misunderstood icon. Princess Noire: The Tumultuous Reign of Nina Simone profiles a complex, immensely gifted performer whose frequently acerbic personality and willingness to openly confront injustice often obscured her instrumental and vocal brilliance.

Classically trained as a youngster, then denied a chance to attend the Curtis Institute of Music due to racism, Simone (born Eunice Waymon) divided her professional life between forging a brilliant sound that blended jazz, classical and pop influences and political activism. Cohodas illuminates Simone’s close friendships with playwright Lorraine Hansberry and author James Baldwin, her clashes with promoters, record labels, ex-husbands and audiences, and her remarkable musical achievements.

As with all the books mentioned here, Princess Noire has special meaning for black Americans, but tells a story that’s important for everyone to know.

Ron Wynn writes for the Nashville City Paper and other publications.

Critics who decry Black History Month celebrations often claim they focus too much on well-known figures and personalities and don’t reaffirm the importance of recognizing African-American accomplishments on a regular basis. But a series of new books by noted scholars and authors refute those contentions.…

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