Unwrapping the past Certainly not everything in the world is getting better and better, but illustrated books may well be. Color reproduction gets ever more precise and lush, and no book demonstrates this better than what is hands-down the most beautiful book on King Tut ever published Tutankhamun, with text by T.

G.

H. James and photographs by A. De Luca (Friedman/Fairfax, $60, ISBN ). James was for a long time Keeper of Egyptian Antiquities at the British Museum, and De Luca is considered one of the foremost photographers of jewelry and statuary in the world. The text is vivid and comprehensive, and explains many aspects of the story of the boy king, but the words are attendant upon the text in this volume. Primarily they serve as detailed captions for De Luca’s breathtaking photographs. The pictures capture the sheen of gold and lapis, the details of texture and inlay, as never before. From the quartz-eyed, ivory-toothed hippo beside the king’s bed to a gold-beaded bracelet with an amethyst scarab, the range of shameless opulence is amazing. Every time you turn the page you find another close-up view of a work of art demonstrating staggering workmanship. No fan of ancient Egypt, and certainly no Tutophile, will be able to resist this book.

While you’re in an Egyptian mood, you should turn to another beautiful new book, Valley of the Golden Mummies, by Zahi Hawass. Hawass is Egypt’s undersecretary of state for the Giza Monuments. He has made many discoveries of his own, including the tombs of the workers who built the pyramids, the tombs of some of Khufu’s officials and evidence about how the pyramids were built. He also directed the conservation of the Great Sphinx at Giza. Many artifacts appear in this book’s impressive illustrations, but there is also much more to round out the story. Handsome color photographs document excavations, restorations, tomb sites and many other fascinating archaeological tidbits that place the artifacts in context and help explain their role in the ancient world. The book is a pleasure to look at and a delight to read, and helps bring alive an era that has captured the imagination of the modern world.

In Victory 1918, Alan Palmer, the noted historian and author of definitive biographies of Bismarck and the Habsburgs, looks beyond individual battles and campaigns and offers a new and broader view of the First World War. Palmer does not dwell on either the strategies that led to the stalemate on the Western Front or the details surrounding Russia’s withdrawal; nor does he reiterate the facts surrounding America’s entry into the War. Rather, he creates a mosaic that reflects the intersection of personal agendas. France’s Clemenceau and Britain’s Lloyd George emerge as pragmatic leaders determined to preserve and widen their nations’ post-war sphere of influence. Each entrusted conduct of war on the Western Front to his country’s most senior and respected military figures. Palmer notes that only the Americans entered the war without colonial ambitions and that European commander General Pershing spent much of his time insuring that his troops did not become additional cannon fodder for the Allies. Lloyd George, Clemenceau, and Hindenburg each found aggressive military leaders who shared their visions. For Clemenceau that general was Franchet d’Esperey and for Lloyd George, generals Allenby and Milne. The Kaiser turned to General Erich von Falkenhayn. Although these generals first saw combat in Europe, they were ultimately entrusted with preserving his country’s interests along its farther reaches. Their war was fought in Egypt and distant places once called the Levant, Mesopotamia, and Salonika. While many of these campaigns have been the subject of books, studies, and even movies, Palmer brings them together as elements of a coherent Allied strategy.

Victory 1918 recounts a war that resulted from misunderstandings and that was needlessly prolonged by the Allies’ misreading of Austria’s appeal for peace. It was also the war that reversed the tide of colonialism and sparked the rise of self-determination as the ultimate expression of nationalism. Alan Palmer offers a thought-provoking analysis of a defining event of the century just past.

John Messer once served at the Pentagon.

Lincoln’s legacy lives on Abraham Lincoln was born in February of 1809, in humble surroundings. When he was assassinated 56 years later, he was one of the most famous human beings on earth. Even Uncle Sam himself had gradually evolved into a Lincolnesque figure. To this day Lincoln is the supreme deity in American mythology, and his profile on the penny is the most frequently reproduced portrait in the world. In an author’s note at the front of Lincoln: A Foreigner’s Quest (Simon ∧ Schuster, $23, 0684855151), Jan Morris offers respectful and apologetic gratitude to the living and dead scholars upon whose work she built her own. Perhaps they should thank her instead. Many historians have written about Lincoln, but few have brought the man and his times alive so vividly as Morris does in this 200-page book. She waves her imagination across the dry old facts and they stand up and dance.

Jan Morris first visited the United States during the 1950s, when Lincoln idolatry was at its peak. Over the years Morris remained skeptical but intrigued. Finally, in the late 1990s, she visited contemporary Springfield, researched the city as it was in Lincoln’s time, and wrote about both experiences. She did the same with Gettysburg and Washington and the prairie countryside. The result is this splendid book.

Lincoln rose above his humble origins by becoming a lawyer and a legislator. According to Morris, Lincoln, like many ambitious politicians, made shady deals, rewarded patronage, and made empty promises. Only later, as president, when he had nowhere else to climb and his perpetual melancholy and Shakespearean outlook grew into a sense of destiny, did he rise to the occasion and become an Emersonian great man. Morris’s account of this personal growth is riveting. Although Lincoln never lost his taste for cheap jokes, gradually he replaced the stilted rhetoric of his early years with sinewy prose of almost Elizabethan grandeur.

Morris’s description of slavery also helps bring to life the era and its issues, from the horrors of punishment to the appeal of the genteel slave-based culture of the South. Although in time he opposed slavery, Lincoln considered blacks decidedly inferior and dreamed of their repatriation to their native lands or segregation in a separate colony. Skeptical at first, always objective, Morris nonetheless grew to like her subject. Ultimately she decides that the contradictory aspects of Lincoln’s personality may be resolved by accepting that he was by nature as much an artist as anything else. The moods, the contradictions, the evasiveness, the questioning of accepted truths, the playacting, the sexual complexity, the sad resolution, and the power to move the spirit, all made a poet of this consummate politician. Two other new books address Abraham Lincoln in ways dramatically different ways from Morris’s approach. Historian and novelist Richard Slotkin has written a novel about Lincoln’s upbringing and early years, titled simply Abe (Henry Holt, $27.50, 0805041230). It is an adventurous, violent, and yet thoughtful melodrama based in historical research but not strangled by it.

Usually Slotkin has a light touch that brings the man alive without dressing him up as the myth. This skill shows especially in such scenes as the teenage Abe working on his reading skills, even when he pores over a book that contains the Declaration of Independence. After all, reading really was Lincoln’s salvation, and his first inklings of the power of language and the language of power came from the already sacred American gospels. Slotkin nicely renders the requisite Huck Finn scenes, such as Abe’s momentous journey down the Mississippi. However, there are moments when the author’s admiration for his hero gets out of hand. At one point Slotkin’s teenage Abe is mistaken for a high yaller octoroon and actually quotes Shylock’s Hath not a Jew eyes? speech with references to slaves replacing those to Jews. Jan Morris is skeptical about the mythological Abraham Lincoln, and Richard Slotkin’s narrative urge is inspired by both the myths and the facts. Another new book examines the ways in which Lincoln’s powerful figure captured the imagination of Hollywood and other purveyors of popular culture. Abraham Lincoln: Twentieth-Century Popular Portrayals, by Frank Thompson, is a curious labor of love. Thompson has thoughtfully examined every movie about Lincoln, including silents, and also the many portrayals on television. After all, the cinematic Lincoln ranges the spectrum from Henry Fonda’s Young Mr. Lincoln to comic appearances in Police Squad and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Through this surprisingly entertaining tour, Thompson evaluates the popular status of Abraham Lincoln. Apparently the myth is alive and well.

Michael Sims is the author of Darwin’s Orchestra (Henry Holt).

Lincoln’s legacy lives on Abraham Lincoln was born in February of 1809, in humble surroundings. When he was assassinated 56 years later, he was one of the most famous human beings on earth. Even Uncle Sam himself had gradually evolved into a Lincolnesque figure. To this day Lincoln is the supreme deity in American mythology, and his profile on the penny is the most frequently reproduced portrait in the world. In an author’s note at the front of Lincoln: A Foreigner’s Quest, Jan Morris offers respectful and apologetic gratitude to the living and dead scholars upon whose work she built her own. Perhaps they should thank her instead. Many historians have written about Lincoln, but few have brought the man and his times alive so vividly as Morris does in this 200-page book. She waves her imagination across the dry old facts and they stand up and dance.

Jan Morris first visited the United States during the 1950s, when Lincoln idolatry was at its peak. Over the years Morris remained skeptical but intrigued. Finally, in the late 1990s, she visited contemporary Springfield, researched the city as it was in Lincoln’s time, and wrote about both experiences. She did the same with Gettysburg and Washington and the prairie countryside. The result is this splendid book.

Lincoln rose above his humble origins by becoming a lawyer and a legislator. According to Morris, Lincoln, like many ambitious politicians, made shady deals, rewarded patronage, and made empty promises. Only later, as president, when he had nowhere else to climb and his perpetual melancholy and Shakespearean outlook grew into a sense of destiny, did he rise to the occasion and become an Emersonian great man. Morris’s account of this personal growth is riveting. Although Lincoln never lost his taste for cheap jokes, gradually he replaced the stilted rhetoric of his early years with sinewy prose of almost Elizabethan grandeur.

Morris’s description of slavery also helps bring to life the era and its issues, from the horrors of punishment to the appeal of the genteel slave-based culture of the South. Although in time he opposed slavery, Lincoln considered blacks decidedly inferior and dreamed of their repatriation to their native lands or segregation in a separate colony. Skeptical at first, always objective, Morris nonetheless grew to like her subject. Ultimately she decides that the contradictory aspects of Lincoln’s personality may be resolved by accepting that he was by nature as much an artist as anything else. The moods, the contradictions, the evasiveness, the questioning of accepted truths, the playacting, the sexual complexity, the sad resolution, and the power to move the spirit, all made a poet of this consummate politician. Two other new books address Abraham Lincoln in ways dramatically different ways from Morris’s approach. Historian and novelist Richard Slotkin has written a novel about Lincoln’s upbringing and early years, titled simply Abe (Henry Holt, $27.50, 0805041230). It is an adventurous, violent, and yet thoughtful melodrama based in historical research but not strangled by it.

Usually Slotkin has a light touch that brings the man alive without dressing him up as the myth. This skill shows especially in such scenes as the teenage Abe working on his reading skills, even when he pores over a book that contains the Declaration of Independence. After all, reading really was Lincoln’s salvation, and his first inklings of the power of language and the language of power came from the already sacred American gospels. Slotkin nicely renders the requisite Huck Finn scenes, such as Abe’s momentous journey down the Mississippi. However, there are moments when the author’s admiration for his hero gets out of hand. At one point Slotkin’s teenage Abe is mistaken for a high yaller octoroon and actually quotes Shylock’s Hath not a Jew eyes? speech with references to slaves replacing those to Jews. Jan Morris is skeptical about the mythological Abraham Lincoln, and Richard Slotkin’s narrative urge is inspired by both the myths and the facts. Another new book examines the ways in which Lincoln’s powerful figure captured the imagination of Hollywood and other purveyors of popular culture. Abraham Lincoln: Twentieth-Century Popular Portrayals, by Frank Thompson (Taylor, $26.95, 0878332413), is a curious labor of love. Thompson has thoughtfully examined every movie about Lincoln, including silents, and also the many portrayals on television. After all, the cinematic Lincoln ranges the spectrum from Henry Fonda’s Young Mr. Lincoln to comic appearances in Police Squad and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Through this surprisingly entertaining tour, Thompson evaluates the popular status of Abraham Lincoln. Apparently the myth is alive and well.

Michael Sims is the author of Darwin’s Orchestra (Henry Holt).

Glassware, silverware, chi-na! Dirty dishes and kitch-en utensils! This was the mantra of our seventh-grade home economics teacher. Mrs. Douglas chirped the words as we sat scowling by our assigned “kitchenettes.” It was our rally call signaling us to assume positions at the sink and start cleaning. There were some of us, however, who secretly liked home ec some of us who still do. Here’s a fabulous book for those who have gotten in touch with their inner housecleaner.

Don’t let the cover fool you, Biting the Dust: The Joys of Housework by Margaret Horsfield (St. Martin’s, $24.95, 0312212143) is no campy portrait of domestic bliss but an exhaustive exploration of housework and its history. It will surprise you with its humor and insight.

It would behoover you to read it.

Reviewed by Katherine H. Wyrick.