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In 1912, a bookseller rummages through trunks full of illuminated medieval manuscripts in a remote Italian castle converted to a Jesuit school. A small volume, not much bigger than a paperback, catches his eye. The bookseller a Lithuanian immigrant whose past is shaded by run-ins with revolutionaries, anarchists and spies realizes that the book is clearly older than the rest. It is also full of unusual drawings and is written in cipher.

The Friar and the Cipher: Roger Bacon and the Unsolved Mystery of the Most Unusual Manuscript in the World is the story of that code and the effort to decipher it. It is also the story of Roger Bacon, known as "Doctor Mirabilis" the miraculous doctor by his contemporaries, and of his bitterest rival, Thomas Aquinas. Bacon was the embodiment of science; he transcended Aristotle and the Greek philosophers and formulated what we know today as the scientific method. He knew the earth was spherical 200 years before Columbus; wrote of gunpowder, flying machines and horseless carriages; theorized a limit to the speed of light and is widely credited with inventing eyeglasses.

Bacon and Aquinas were intellectual giants on opposite sides of the religious divide, with Aquinas on the winning side. Bacon, a devout Catholic, spent the latter part of his life virtually imprisoned because of his beliefs, but continued to write, theorize and, it is believed, to put his thoughts down in such a way that he could not be condemned if the writing was found.

A cadre of military code-breakers, scholars and dreamers are still attempting to make sense of the 700-year-old scribblings. Lawrence and Nancy Goldstone have written a somewhat dry, but fascinating and detail-filled book with enough twists and turns to fill three novels.

In 1912, a bookseller rummages through trunks full of illuminated medieval manuscripts in a remote Italian castle converted to a Jesuit school. A small volume, not much bigger than a paperback, catches his eye. The bookseller a Lithuanian immigrant whose past is shaded by run-ins…

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His pupils at the London school adored him and said he “knows everything.” Adolescent hyperbole notwithstanding, Dr. James Murray was indeed the master of many subjects. Knowledgeable in more than 20 languages, he was said in his earlier days to have taught cows to respond to the Latin names he had given them. So, when he was named editor of what was to become the Oxford English Dictionary, he sensed that his appointment was “what God has fitted me for.” And in that job he showed his erudition by writing or editing almost half of the first edition’s 15,490 pages.

In his new book, The Meaning of Everything: The Story of the Oxford English Dictionary, author Simon Winchester says Murray and his sponsors committed one major miscalculation: They figured the dictionary from the letter A to the word zyxt would require a decade to complete, but after the fifth year Murray and his assistants had only reached the word ant. Thus, the enterprise had to continue for another 44 years until 1928, when the last of the 10 original volumes came off the press.

One of humanity’s monumental intellectual accomplishments, the dictionary was worth the wait, and wordsmiths will appreciate Winchester’s skillful narration of why it took so long. Certainly, limited funds and the incompetence of some assistants delayed progress to a degree, but the main factor appeared to be the nature of the work itself. Murray himself explains the tedium and frustration in the pursuit of perfection: “Ten, twenty or thirty letters have sometimes been written to persons who, it was thought, might possibly know, or succeed in finding out, something definite on the subject . . . It is incredible what labour has had to be expended, sometimes, to find out facts for an article which occupies not five or six lines.” The dictionary’s lofty purpose was to list, define and give the pronunciation and history of every word in the English language, as well as to provide quotations from printed matter to show the evolution of each word’s changes in meaning throughout the centuries. To accomplish this gargantuan task, Murray depended on thousands of volunteer readers; among them was Dr. C.E. Minor, the insane American whose story Winchester told in his magnificent bestseller, The Professor and the Madman. Murray built an ugly, corrugated iron hut and, in a reverential salute to the workplace of medieval scribes in earlier centuries, named it the Scriptorium. There, he paid his children a penny an hour (as each of the tots celebrated a birthday, the wage scale rose a penny to a maximum of six cents) to help sort the millions of quotations submitted by the volunteers. With no more than pen and paper, Murray painstakingly wrote and edited entries for 36 years, in addition to carrying on his voluminous correspondence. He died in 1915 while working on the Ts. Among those who helped to complete the work was J.R.R. Tolkien, who said he “learned more in those two years than in any other equal period of my life.” At a celebratory dinner marking the dictionary’s completion, Stanley Baldwin, England’s prime minister, declared, “Our histories, our novels, our poems, our plays they are all in this one book.” As he did in The Map That Changed the World and Krakatoa, Winchester blankets his subject with rich details in anticipation of readers’ questions. Thus, we learn that zyxt is an obsolete form of the verb see as in “thou seest.” And that’s the last word on the last word. Alan Prince lectures at the University of Miami School of Communication.

 

His pupils at the London school adored him and said he "knows everything." Adolescent hyperbole notwithstanding, Dr. James Murray was indeed the master of many subjects. Knowledgeable in more than 20 languages, he was said in his earlier days to have taught cows to…

The 1920s—that first foray into the Modern, that Age of Art—marked seismic shifts in the way we see (Cubism, Dadaism, et al.), hear (Hemingway and Hilda Doolittle, the poet known by the pen name H.D.), and interpret (psychoanalysis). It was the decade that forever changed American music and dance (Ethel Waters, the Charleston). Most important, though, that delicious, self-indulgent decade gave birth to the New Woman. These liberated women didn't just let down their hair; they cut it off.

Marion Meade's history, Bobbed Hair and Bathtub Gin: Writers Running Wild in the Twenties, focuses each chapter on a single year, working us through the occasionally interlinked lives of Zelda Fitzgerald, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Dorothy Parker and Edna Ferber, from 1920 through 1930. Her meanwhile-back-at-the-ranch approach works, for the most part, effectively enough, moving us through the lives of these women and their good-for-nothing and often more drunken men. Meade is the author of several biographies, among them Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell Is This?, a full-length study of Parker, who once wrote that "[at] birth, the devil touched my tongue." It's the barbed tongue one misses here. Without the art, it was a hollow age, indeed; one's predilection for water-closet martinis and pansexual romps means little without the excuse of genius, and it is that the artist we sometimes see too little of. Bathing in Meade's gin-soaked chronology is a particularly delightful indulgence, nevertheless, and we are left with a far greater appreciation for the peculiar madness that follows sudden large freedom. Breaking every rule of polite society does have its price, however well deserved the rebellion may be, and each of these women paid it (though Ferber seems the odd one here sane, sober and solvent).

More fun is arts journalist Andrea Barnet's All-Night Party: The Women of Bohemian Greenwich Village and Harlem, 1913-1930. Rather than rely strictly on chronology, Barnet focuses on one woman at a time and looks beyond just the poet (Millay) to include artists and models (Mina Loy), salon hostesses (Mabel Dodge), publishers (Margaret Anderson and Jane Heap), and divas (Bessie Smith and Ethel Waters) an eclectic collection, even for that most odd and fascinating of times. Barnet weaves a richer fabric than do the four repeating threads of Meade's chronology.

The soul of wit
Finally, one book reminds us why we care: Barry Day's Dorothy Parker: In Her Own Words. Though she remains one of the most quoted women of her age, the acerbic Parker left no intentional autobiography. So Day (author of similar books on P.G. Wodehouse, Oscar Wilde and Sherlock Holmes) organizes her famous witticisms into a kind of autobiography, walking us through her preoccupations women and men, love, death, art in a way that shows us she did indeed bequeath us reminiscence in the form of her own verse, short stories and those marvelously stinging reviews (when it came to celebrated writers, she lamented Americans' tendency "to mistake for the first rate, the fecund rate").

Day's effort suffers from an assumption that readers have no intention of starting at chapter 1 and reading through to chapter 10 (at least that seems a reasonable explanation for his tendency to repeat descriptive passages nearly verbatim). Ultimately, though, one reads Day not for the data, but for what his subject had to say. Mrs. Parker's calling down for room service before slitting her wrists is telling from the author of Enough Rope and that oft-anthologized ditty "Resume," but surely the value in providing a running count of her abortions lies merely in the opportunity to remind us of her response: "Serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard."

At its heart, Day's book cuts closest to the truth held most dear by those unfettered women: it is the Art that matters, not the messy minutiae of one's daily life, no matter how exceptional the life may be. Though these histories are a fine indulgence over a long weekend, they succeed best as hors d'oeuvre, leaving us hungry for the main dish. As Millay exhorts, "Take up the song; forget the epitaph."

D. Michelle Adkerson is a writing instructor at Nashville State Community College.

 

The 1920s—that first foray into the Modern, that Age of Art—marked seismic shifts in the way we see (Cubism, Dadaism, et al.), hear (Hemingway and Hilda Doolittle, the poet known by the pen name H.D.), and interpret (psychoanalysis). It was the decade that forever…

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British author Lynne Truss is a self-described "stickler," a nut about punctuation who can't rest easy when she sees mistakes on street signs, newspaper headlines or billboards. ("Within seconds, shock gives way to disbelief, disbelief to pain, and pain to anger," she says upon spotting a misplaced apostrophe.) As a punctuation perfectionist, Truss considers herself part of a rare breed, and she expected her book, Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, to interest only a tiny segment of the British population when it was first published in the U.K. last year. However, to the surprise of the author, her publisher and just about everyone else in Britain, the book became a number-one bestseller, even topping sales of John Grisham's latest legal thriller.

Will the book have the same appeal for American readers? We'll find out on April 12, when Gotham Books releases the North American edition of Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Editors at Gotham, who might have been afraid to wade into the copyediting waters with an opinionated author like Truss, wisely decided to reprint the book exactly as it was in the original version, with all its British spellings and punctuation intact. Some of the references might well be confusing to American readers she refers to a period as a "full stop," for example but Truss manages to get her point across nonetheless.

Proper punctuation, she argues, is similar to good manners, a system for making your intentions clear. Truss fusses about people who insist on adding apostrophes to plurals (DVD's), who use the wrong possessive for "it" (its'), and who put commas in many, many places where they don't belong. Her most hilarious example of the latter is replicated in the book's title, a reference to a wildlife manual with poor punctuation that unintentionally turned a panda into a gun-wielding restaurant diner (you'll have to read the book for the full joke).

Funny and self-deprecating but always serious about her mission, Truss is a stern commander in the war on careless writing. Weary editors, schoolteachers and fellow sticklers everywhere will wish her victory in this much-needed battle.

 

British author Lynne Truss is a self-described "stickler," a nut about punctuation who can't rest easy when she sees mistakes on street signs, newspaper headlines or billboards. ("Within seconds, shock gives way to disbelief, disbelief to pain, and pain to anger," she says upon spotting…
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James Thurber was one of the great American humorists of the 20th century. From his first appearance in the fledgling New Yorker in 1927 until his death in 1961, he was known for his unique reflections in prose and pictures on what he called "human confusion, American-style." These laugh-out-loud critiques of love, marriage, sex, literature and history made him a favorite with readers. As the largest single collection of his correspondence, The Thurber Letters: The Wit, Wisdom, and Surprising Life of James Thurber reveals that his life and his art were, for the most part, separate. Harrison Kinney, author of the definitive 1995 Thurber biography James Thurber: His Life and Times, edits the collection with Rosemary A. Thurber, Thurber's only child. As Kinney writes, "Very little of his personal life . . . can be surmised from what he wrote for publication. It is his letters . . . that comprise a reliable and fascinating portrait of Thurber, the man and artist, and offer a vivid understanding of what largely motivated his remarkable prose and art." This fascinating volume includes letters to his family in Ohio and to his wide circle of literary friends, including his New Yorker colleagues. Among the latter, the most memorable letters include his missives to Harold Ross, the legendary editor with whom Thurber had a decades-long ambivalent relationship. A wonderful example is an undated letter in which Thurber strongly objects to changes made in his copy. "Since I never write, for publication, a single word or phrase that I have not consciously examined, sometimes numerous times, I should like to have the queriers on my pieces realize that there is no possibility of catching me on an overlooked sloppiness." There are many letters to Thurber's good friends E.B. and Katharine White, and letters to Rosemary that reveal him to be a devoted parent. Some of the most entertaining items are Thurber's responses to students and other people he does not know who have written to him for advice.

The letters appear chronologically, so we can trace Thurber's development from a 23-year-old code clerk in Washington and Paris in 1918 through several years as a newspaper reporter and columnist and his eventual employment by Ross in 1927 as managing editor of The New Yorker. From his perspective, we learn of his sticky relationship with the magazine, primarily with regard to proper payment for his work and the rejection of numerous submissions he made to it. His adventures as an author of books and co-author of The Male Animal, a successful comedy on Broadway, are also included.

From the earliest letters to the last, Thurber impresses us with his gift for language and his sheer joy in writing. He can be chatty, as in letters to his family; focused on concerns at the magazine, as he was with Ross and many others; opinionated, as when writing to Malcolm Cowley in the 1930s about his dislike of "literary communists"; or witty, as in his response to an invitation to appear on the radio program "This I Believe" in 1953: "my belief changes from time to time and might even change during a brief broadcast." Whatever the occasion, Thurber never fails to write in such a way that readers are caught up in what he has to say.

Anyone interested in Thurber's life and work or who would like an insider's view on the workings of a great American magazine should enjoy this collection immensely. Roger Bishop is a Nashville bookseller and a regular contributor to BookPage.

 

James Thurber was one of the great American humorists of the 20th century. From his first appearance in the fledgling New Yorker in 1927 until his death in 1961, he was known for his unique reflections in prose and pictures on what he called…

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The relationship between Zelda Sayre and F. Scott Fitzgerald stands alongside Frieda and D.H. Lawrence or Elizabeth and Robert Browning as one of the legendary literary love stories of all time. Fitzgerald wrote lyrical and trenchant fiction about the Jazz Age, and with The Great Gatsby he crafted one of the most moving and memorable American novels of the 20th century. It might be argued that Zelda was both the source of his emotional fire and a central factor in his disintegration. For Zelda, it seems, Scott served the same dual role. In two decades of marriage, they managed to transform a vale of fame and talent and passionate love into a tragic landscape of drunkenness, mental illness and never-ending debt.

Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda, a collection of correspondence edited by two University of Maryland professors that spans a 22-year period, includes a few dozen previously unpublished letters. It would be more apt, perhaps, to call the volume "Mostly Dear Scott," for the majority of letters are from Zelda. Yet there are enough responses from her husband to give credibility to the title and, more importantly, to give a sense of the often sad symbiosis of their relationship.

Scott Fitzgerald was a famous novelist by the age of 24, thanks to the astonishing success of This Side of Paradise. His love for Zelda was made into a metaphor in The Great Gatsby and Tender Is the Night, as well as many short stories. His fictions were made of their life together, and their life seemed the stuff of fiction. The letters between Scott and Zelda trace the arc of their love its great passion, its failures and its enduring strengths. Scott made himself into the famous man that Zelda Sayre needed to marry, and she tried to be the proper accessory. As she wrote in an early letter to him, "I feel like you had me ordered and I was delivered to you to be worn. I want you to wear me, like a watch-charm or a button hole bouquet to the world." She professed not minding to be "pink and helpless," but she soon thirsted for her own identity as dancer, as writer or as painter. She had talents in each art but not enough to make her name stand on the same plane as her husband's. She wrote to him, "I want to work at something, but I can't seem to get well enough to be of any use in the world." The beautiful Alabama belle was tormented with mental illness. Her extended stays in mental institutions drained Scott's money and separated the couple by a continent, forcing them to communicate with letters. Scott supported Zelda in the expensive hospitals and their daughter, Scottie, in costly schools, often through hackwork and Hollywood script writing. But, as Zelda wrote to Scott a year before his death, "Nothing could have survived our life." And, of course, she was right not the life they created, nor the one that rose up to meet them, not even the one they dreamed about when they first met.

Scott died of a heart attack in 1940, while he was in the process of completing what many think might have turned out to be one of his finest works, The Last Tycoon. Thirty people showed up for Scott's funeral. As with Gatsby, it seemed, the famous had forgotten him. Zelda died in 1948, burned beyond recognition in a fire in Highland Hospital, a mental institution near Asheville, North Carolina. The inscription on the Fitzgeralds' shared tombstone reads: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Dr. Michael Pearson directs the Creative Writing Program at Old Dominion University.

 

The relationship between Zelda Sayre and F. Scott Fitzgerald stands alongside Frieda and D.H. Lawrence or Elizabeth and Robert Browning as one of the legendary literary love stories of all time. Fitzgerald wrote lyrical and trenchant fiction about the Jazz Age, and with The Great…

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Daniel Swift’s paternal grandfather died during World War II, at the age of 30, while on a bombing mission for the Royal Air Force over Germany in 1943. In the course of research about his grandfather’s life and death as a bomber pilot, Swift, a literary critic and English professor, began to explore the relationship between the bombers and poetry. Discussion of the role of bombers is a sensitive subject for many because of the great devastation and the death of many civilians on the ground. As Swift notes in his illuminating personal and literary journey, Bomber County, “The poetry of air bombing requires a particular imaginative sympathy absent from other war poetry, and it must play between telling and deferring the tale: between the poet who survived and the others who died that night.”

Swift is concerned with bomber poetry written from several perspectives. He focuses on the work of noted bomber poets such as James Dickey and John Ciardi, but he also wants us to read poetry by those engaged in bombing runs who had not been poets but felt compelled to write poetry because of their experience, including Michael Scott and John Riley Byrne. He explores, too, the war poems of Randall Jarrell, who trained others to be pilots but did not see action himself. He considers in detail poetry by civilians moved by the terror of air raids. T.S. Eliot was an air raid warden in London, and “Little Gidding,” the last of his Four Quartets, is directly concerned with living in a bombed city. Dylan Thomas thought that he could write poetry only in peacetime. Although not a combatant, Thomas wrote hauntingly about the distinctive grief of aerial bombardment in “Ceremony After a Fire Raid” and “A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London,” as did Stephen Spender in “Responsibility: The Pilots Who Destroyed Germany, Spring 1945.”

As Swift continues to find out more about his grandfather’s life and death, he discusses the very different views of the bombing raids, ranging from “atrocities pure and simple” to “one of the decisive elements in Allied victory.” He does not shy away from discussing the morality and ethics of the bombers’ missions: “Bombing can be both bright purpose and dreadful duty; both horror and great joy; tourist and killer, proudness and fear.”

Bomber County is a stimulating and insightful investigation into the poetry of a particular time as well as a unique personal quest to understand a grandfather’s legacy.

Daniel Swift’s paternal grandfather died during World War II, at the age of 30, while on a bombing mission for the Royal Air Force over Germany in 1943. In the course of research about his grandfather’s life and death as a bomber pilot, Swift, a…

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Are you struggling to summon gift ideas for the intellectual in your life? If so, you can un-furrow your brow starting now. This holiday season, let BookPage help you shop for the studious and the scholarly those lovers of learning who emerge from their erudite pursuits hunch-backed and bleary-eyed but triumphant.

In anticipation of your Christmas quandary, our industrious editors closeted themselves with publishers’ catalogues and unearthed the following quartet of titles, each of which should be pleasing to the academician on your list.

Show what you know A word of wisdom to the aspiring litterateur: Never enter into a conversation unarmed. Your best defense is Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations (Little, Brown, $50, 1,472 pages, ISBN 0316084603) a veritable arsenal of razor-sharp repartees and potent turns of phrase. Now in its 17th edition, the newly revised anthology of famous prose and verse quotes, edited by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Justin Kaplan, has become one of the world’s most treasured references.

The origins of this indispensable volume date back to 1855, when Cambridge, Massachusetts, bookseller John Bartlett released A Collection of Familiar Quotations a compilation of smart sayings and their sources. That humble compendium has since evolved into a comprehensive source of outrageous remarks, classic literary passages and unforgettable pronouncements. International in scope, the new edition includes material from more than 25,000 notables (Princess Di, Bob Dylan and MLK, to name a few) and offers quotes from contemporary cultural arenas such as music, television and movies. The volume is revised every 10 years, so now’s the time to untie your tongue. Let Bartlett’s help you show what you know.

The beloved Bloom is back With his Falstaffian girth and formidable reputation as a cultural critic, Harold Bloom is a scholar who does nothing on a small scale. His new book, Genius: A Mosaic of One Hundred Exemplary Creative Minds is a milestone of research and inquiry, a broad-minded examination of the nature of genius and how (and in whom) it has manifested itself during the centuries.

Through evaluations of classic literary works the poetry of Shelley, the drama of Ibsen, the fiction of Tolstoy Bloom examines the forces that have shaped the great writers of every era, as well as the qualities shared by each author. “The study of mediocrity, whatever its origins, breeds mediocrity,” he writes. Thus, this collection a kaleidoscopic look at a group of superior individuals that blends biography with literary criticism. Author of The Western Canon and How to Read and Why, the best-selling Bloom has assembled a fascinating exhibit of remarkable intellects. Genius is inspiring, accessible and provocative a generous survey that will enlarge the reader’s comprehension of art, as well as his understanding of the role of the creative mind throughout history.

Keillor plugs poetry One of America’s most esteemed humorists and radio personages has put together a treasury of verse that’s sure to delight any lover of words. Garrison Keillor, the man behind the popular NPR spot The Writer’s Almanac, has compiled Good Poems (Viking, $25.95, 480 pages, ISBN 0670031267), a collection that’s broad in scope and full of the unforgettable imagery and skilled craftsmanship that make a poem, as the title puts it, good.

Divided into categories like Music, Lovers, Failure, and Sons and Daughters, the volume offers a poem for every occasion. A who’s who of literary lights, the index lists works by top-notch contemporary authors like Galway Kinnell, Billy Collins and Sharon Olds, as well as venerable favorites such as Emily Dickinson, W.H. Auden and William Butler Yeats. “To be interrupted mid-stampede by a beautiful thing is a blessing indeed,” Keillor writes of the force of poetry. The genre may be overlooked and underrated, but there’s no denying its power. Poets, it can be argued, are prophets, and Keillor’s collection reflects their ability to bolster our spirits and lighten our hearts.

The best in books for little readers A terrific gift for those interested in raising little readers, The Essential Guide to Children’s Books and Their Creators (Houghton Mifflin, $28, 542 pages, ISBN 061819083X) is the literary equivalent of a Leonard Maltin movie guide comprehensive, easy to use and instructive. Compiled by Anita Silvey, former editor in chief of Horn Book Magazine, who has written and published children’s literature for three decades, this practical volume, also available in paperback, is packed with info on all the best authors, illustrators and titles.

With more than 475 listings, The Essential Guide covers the top books of the past century and includes profiles of beloved writers, from Lemony Snicket to Margaret Wise Brown. Silvey also provides a basic reading list, contributes thoughtful and perceptive essays on genres such as science fiction, young adult novels and Holocaust literature, and examines timely themes like multiculturalism. Entries titled “Voices of the Creators,” written by Lane Smith, Gary Soto, Virginia Hamilton and others, offer insights into the artistic process. An invaluable aid in selecting the best books for youngsters, The Essential Guide is a must for parents who hope to instill a love of literature in their kids.

 

Are you struggling to summon gift ideas for the intellectual in your life? If so, you can un-furrow your brow starting now. This holiday season, let BookPage help you shop for the studious and the scholarly those lovers of learning who emerge from their…

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Arthur Levitt made the individual investor his passion during his eight-year term as chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission. Taking the post after 25 years on Wall Street, he knew that investors were almost totally in the dark about how the stock markets worked and felt compelled to educate consumers about the long-standing collusive practices that cost investors millions each year. Now the ultimate insider continues his cause in Take on the Street: What Wall Street and Corporate America Don’t Want You to Know, What You Can Do to Fight Back, a startling behind-the-scenes book for anyone who has felt intimidated or baffled by Wall Street.

Levitt’s cautionary advice on mutual funds, analysts’ recommendations and financial statements boils down to a simple lesson: Ignorant investors are being bilked for every possible nickel, so the more you know, the better you’ll be armed to protect your precious savings. For example, Levitt advises you to fire your broker if you have less than $50,000 to invest, and no matter who handles your money, always ask: How are you getting paid? Much of the book details Levitt’s political and corporate battles as SEC chairman, and many of those same issues returned to the spotlight in 2002 with corporate meltdowns like Enron and WorldCom. Levitt recounts the controversial Regulation Fair Disclosure decision, which required companies to release important information to everyone at the same time, and the push for independent auditors and stock options accounting. Levitt calls his decision to back down on a 1994 proposal that would have forced companies to account for stock options on their financial statements the single biggest mistake of his career with the SEC. Hindsight may be 20/20, but for future investors, Levitt’s eye-opening revelations are sure to make navigating the minefield of hidden potholes on Wall Street a little easier.

 

Arthur Levitt made the individual investor his passion during his eight-year term as chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission. Taking the post after 25 years on Wall Street, he knew that investors were almost totally in the dark about how the stock markets…

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Publishers Weekly once described Gail Godwin as a mix of "mysticism and clear-headed practicality," a fusion of divergent forces that has proven a rich one for the author, whose novels Evensong and The Good Husband explorations of mortality and faith that mine the spiritual side of their characters have earned her both popular and critical acclaim.

"I spend a lot of time either in awe of or in pursuit of the unseen," Godwin says by phone from her home in Woodstock, New York. Indeed, her first nonfiction book Heart: A Personal Journey Through Its Myths and Meanings gives substance to the unseen, solidifying the essence of one of our most popular symbols: the heart. A synthesis, a survey, Godwin’s new book tours history, religion, literature and art, examining the role of the heart in each of these contexts and bringing to mind the best of Diane Ackerman and Annie Dillard along the way. Exploring the accretion of meanings, the layers of significance humanity has projected onto an emblem that probably dates back to 10,000 B.C., when the heart as we know it that shapeliest of symbols, all lavish arch and flirtatious curve was first scrawled on a cave wall in Spain, the narrative is part history, part anatomy, part literary criticism, an in-depth examination of what lies behind the good, old-fashioned valentine.

"Finding out how all these areas branched out and connected was a broadening experience," Godwin, a three-time National Book Award nominee, says. "It’s a heartful way to write, more of a circulatory way, to see how things tie in to other things."

Raised in North Carolina, Godwin has a soothing Southern lilt, which she punctuates with deliberative periods of silence, as though searching for the best possible words to express her ideas. The contemplative tone seems just right for the author, whose abiding interest in the world’s theologies lends her new book a certain urgency. When she encourages readers to "revaluate the heart," to "develop more consciousness of heart," Godwin seems to be writing in earnest.

"I feel more and more that we really spent hundreds of years perfecting our minds and our industries and our reason, and now it’s really time to catch up with the other stuff. Like the heart," Godwin says. "I think it’s happening in increments. Once you’re aware of the heart and heartlessness, you’ve already made some mileage."

Although Godwin has a strong background in journalism — she once worked as a reporter for The Miami Herald — the shift from fiction to nonfiction with Heart was not without its challenges. "As far as the writing goes, I found that I had to keep myself from being too dry and scholarly," she says. "Whenever I put on my scholar’s hat, my heart went out of it. When you think of the nonfiction you enjoy reading, it’s written in a voice. You’re not just getting information. Someone is bringing you the information through their personality."

Godwin’s voice in the book is poetic and lucid as she recounts some of the greatest heart moments in history — the creation of the stethoscope; the first valentine; how the heart symbol got its shape. From the evolution of Taoism to the Holy Wars to courtly love, she portrays the heart as a motivator for some of history’s greatest moments, showing how much of life has, in a sense, been engendered by one little organ. The seat of desire and the center of humanity, the stimulus for things great and small, from one-night stands to world wars, the heart, as the author demonstrates, is a point where we all connect.

Godwin experienced this connection firsthand during the writing of Heart, when she discussed the narrative with friends, some of whom freely gave her suggestions for the book. "When I worked on my novels in the past and talked to people about them, they always hung back from suggesting ideas," Godwin says. "They would observe a certain decorum. But with the heart book, everyone was plunging in: ‘Don’t forget to put in this poet or that artist.’ I decided that maybe when you’re writing out of a shared culture, people feel perfectly free and even obligated to contribute."

While a sense of shared culture permeates Heart, for the author, there are personal contexts at play in the book as well. One of the most poignant chapters in the narrative is about heartbreak and includes the story of Godwin’s half brother Tommy, who died during a shooting incident in 1983. Godwin had written about his death before in her book, A Southern Family.

"A Southern Family was a huge novel, and this chapter in Heart was a completely different take on what happened," she explains. "I learned more about what a broken heart means and what grieving means just from writing this part of the book. Maybe that’s a good instance of one of the blessings of nonfiction writing — you can get closer to something that really happened without having to disguise or design. You can still use all your imagination and try to illuminate mysteries, if not solve them."

Such were the gratifications of the nonfiction genre that Godwin has decided to do a sequel to Heart. "The next book will be about hospitality," she says. "I’ll treat it the same way I treated the heart, looking at all the ways hospitality has been perceived throughout the ages."

At the moment, Godwin is at work on a new novel called The Queen of the Underworld. "For the first time in my life, I don’t have a deadline," she says. "It frees me up, and I seem to work more. I’m interested to see how, having written Heart and found this new kind of circulation, it’s going to affect what I’m writing now. I think it’s going to permeate the fiction writing with more heart qualities," she says hopefully. "Things like zest, courage and taking chances at pain."

Publishers Weekly once described Gail Godwin as a mix of "mysticism and clear-headed practicality," a fusion of divergent forces that has proven a rich one for the author, whose novels Evensong and The Good Husband explorations of mortality and faith that mine the spiritual side…

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When baseball’s All-Century Team was chosen in 1999, one of the pitchers picked was Sandy Koufax, a left-hander for the Brooklyn, and later, Los Angeles Dodgers a remarkable selection that was largely based on the strength of a five-year stretch when Koufax dominated the game like no one had before.

What is more remarkable, notes Jane Leavy, author of the new book Sandy Koufax: A Lefty’s Legacy, is that for a good portion of his career he pitched with an arm injury that kept him in constant pain, which he relieved with a mix of painkillers, ice baths and an analgesic balm that was so strong people cried when they were around him. As Leavy points out, Koufax had it all: movie star good looks, a nimble brain and tons of athletic ability. Like Hank Greenberg, a Jewish first baseman for the Detroit Tigers a generation before, Koufax was an icon for Jews across America. He helped belie the myth that Jews were incapable of excelling in physical endeavors.

Success never went to his head. He maintained friendships with his childhood buddies from Brooklyn, and around his teammates he was known for treating everyone the same, regardless of their color or hierarchy as an athlete. Leavy, an award-winning sportswriter and feature writer for the Washington Post, does a sensitive job in portraying him as an outstanding athlete and a thoughtful, complex man.

Baseball fan Ron Kaplan writes from Montclair, New Jersey.

 

When baseball's All-Century Team was chosen in 1999, one of the pitchers picked was Sandy Koufax, a left-hander for the Brooklyn, and later, Los Angeles Dodgers a remarkable selection that was largely based on the strength of a five-year stretch when Koufax dominated the…

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Some of the most influential physicists of the 20th century were deeply involved in the creation of the atomic bomb and the much more destructive thermonuclear hydrogen bomb that followed. Patriotism led them to put their expertise at the service of their country. Now, in an authoritative new book, Brotherhood of the Bomb: The Tangled Lives and Loyalties of Robert Oppenheimer, Ernest Lawrence, and Edward Teller, Gregg Herken re-creates that turbulent period, focusing on three major figures of the era. Drawing on thousands of pages of declassified government documents from the United States and the former U.S.S.R., as well as many personal interviews and private papers, the author gives us fresh portraits of his subjects. Herken is a curator and historian of science at the Smithsonian Institution. His previous books include The Winning Weapon and Counsels of War, both concerned with various aspects of subjects discussed in his new book.

Lawrence and Teller had shown little interest in politics until 1940-1941. Oppenheimer, in contrast, was involved with numerous leftist causes and groups and some suspected him of being a Communist. As Herken demonstrates, Oppenheimer was under intense scrutiny, but a careful reading of official reports shows that no proof of disloyalty was ever found. Despite continuing concern, General Leslie Groves, who headed the Manhattan Project, ordered a security clearance for Oppenheimer in 1943, noting that, He is absolutely essential to the project." Oppenheimer’s views remained controversial throughout the early postwar years when he was regarded by many as the scientist of conscience in this country. Those who disagreed with him or suspected him of disloyalty were eventually able to get his security clearance taken away in 1954, one day before it was due to expire.

Herken deftly guides us through the scientific-governmental and political-military thicket, explaining how key decisions were made. He follows his three major figures bright, innovative, even brilliant scientists as they debate and maneuver to gain acceptance for their points of view. But it is not their story alone. Along the way we are made aware of the significant contributions of many others, including Vannevar Bush, James B. Conant, Arthur Compton, Enrico Fermi and Alfred Loomis.

Herken writes that the plot" of this riveting book is taken from The Sorcerer’s Apprentice: [I]t is a cautionary tale of arrogance, betrayal, and unforeseen consequences; of what comes from invoking forces both political and physical that one neither fully understands nor controls."

Nashville bookseller Roger Bishop is a longtime contributor to BookPage.

 

 

Some of the most influential physicists of the 20th century were deeply involved in the creation of the atomic bomb and the much more destructive thermonuclear hydrogen bomb that followed. Patriotism led them to put their expertise at the service of their country. Now,…

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The international automotive industry has foisted many products on this car-crazy world, yet nothing has ever registered as vividly or as memorably in the public’s imagination as the Volkswagen Beetle. Yes, it was small and funny-looking (some would say downright ugly), you could hardly see out the back window and traveling in a crosswind was always an adventure. But what the Beetle (or Bug") did best was run. And run. And run. Efficiency was its main selling point, followed closely by its rock-bottom price tag. The story of the Volkwagen’s birth and development is a fascinating one, and veteran television reporter and New York Times writer Phil Patton does a super job of telling it in his new book Bug. Patton digs deeply into the Bug’s origins in the 1930s, when, as the proletariat dream-car brainchild of Adolf Hitler and Germany’s Third Reich, no less a designer than the renowned Ferdinand Porsche (of stylish race-car fame) set to work bringing the Fuhrer’s vision to reality. There were snags, of course primarily World War II.

It wasn’t until the postwar era that the Volkswagen idea was brought to fruition, and the Bug became a symbol of Germany’s economic and industrial renewal. Then the worldwide Bug infestation began.

America went Beetle-happy in the late ’50s and early ’60s, spurred on by perhaps the most famous advertising campaign in history. The Doyle Dane Bernbach agency developed print and television spots that made buying a VW absolutely de rigueur for eggheads, unassuming idealists or anyone with an iconoclastic or countercultural streak (or a wobbly bank account). By the time the Beetle ceased production in the late 1970s, it had become the best-selling car of all time. Patton relates all of these episodes with authority and style, offering interesting glimpses into the personalities, creativity and philosophies of the principal players. He also provides an account of the late ’90s rejuvenation of the Bug, whose pedigree as a product of the global economy is a far cry from the utilitarian, Cold War-era atmosphere from which its legendary forebear sprung. This first-rate blend of business and social history should hit a chord of nostalgia with many readers.

Martin Brady writes from Nashville.

 

 

 

The international automotive industry has foisted many products on this car-crazy world, yet nothing has ever registered as vividly or as memorably in the public's imagination as the Volkswagen Beetle. Yes, it was small and funny-looking (some would say downright ugly), you could hardly…

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