The Price of Stones has all the markings of a Greg Mortenson knockoff. The book’s foreword contains a letter from its publisher favorably comparing it to Mortenson’s Three Cups of Tea. (It happens that Viking is the publisher of both books.) And the title, The Price of Stones, has a familiar ring, sounding quite similar to Mortenson’s follow-up, Stones into Schools. But The Price of Stones’ author, Twesigye Jackson Kaguri, has one thing Mortenson lacks: serious street cred. While Mortenson stumbled upon Korphe, the remote village in Pakistan where he built a school in Three Cups of Tea, Kaguri was born in the Ugandan village that he struggles to save from the ravages of AIDS.

Kaguri writes movingly about growing up in a country where almost a third of the adult population is infected by AIDS. The disease is so prevalent in Uganda, he informs us, that natives have given it a nickname: slim. The shadow of death darkens the doorway of Kaguri’s home, with AIDS claiming the life of his brother, Frank, and sister, Mbabazi. When he becomes the guardian of one of his brother’s children, he discovers that more than a million Ugandan children have been orphaned by the AIDS epidemic, and he vows to take action. Returning to Uganda from his studies in the United States, Kaguri builds a school for these orphans.

The Price of Stones is an engaging account of the work of Kaguri and his wife, Beronda, to build Nyaka School, which provides free education, meals and medical care for some 200 orphans. Nyaka School not only educates students, but also has a working farm to grow food for the children, a program to teach villagers to build clean water systems, vocational training and a program to assist caregivers for the orphans. The school’s success has even led to the establishment of a second school in a nearby village.

The accomplishments of Nyaka School are the result of Kaguri’s perseverance, having overcome obstacles (from the superstitions surrounding AIDS to his father’s initial refusal to help) to raise money, transport supplies and building materials to a rural area, and maneuver around the corruption of government officials. Kaguri rightly earns admiration for his achievements, and The Price of Stones earns accolades for its inspiration.
 

At 79, Jerry Lewis is getting new mileage out of his 10-year teaming with Dean Martin, during which they made 16 films and did an SRO nightclub act. Written with James Kaplan, Dean &andamp; Me (A Love Story) journeys with the duo from beginning (Lewis was 19, Dino 28) to end (they weren’t speaking during production of their last film). It was Frank Sinatra who put the boys back together, at Lewis’ 1976 Labor Day telethon. Along with some soul-searching about their split ( As sentimental as it sounds, we both had the hand of God on us until even He said, Enough!’ ), Lewis frankly admits to his post-Dino demons, especially his addiction to Percodan. Sadly, he and Martin never did reteam professionally. When not writing about movies, Los Angeles-based journalist Pat H. Broeske likes to watch them.

Art Gelien certainly understood the elusive nature of stardom. He was struggling to become a professional ice skater when he was put through the star-making machinery of the 1950s. Renamed Tab Hunter, and promoted as the Sigh Guy, the blonde and handsome heartthrob lived a double life. Publicly, he dated the likes of Debbie Reynolds and Natalie Wood; privately, he romanced actor Anthony Perkins and famed figure skater Ronnie Robertson. Written by Hunter and Eddie Muller, Tab Hunter Confidential: The Making of a Movie Star has been hyped as a gay tell-all, but it is at its best in examining the 1950s era and recounting the myriad incarnations of Hunter’s career. There were huge films (notably, Battle Cry), live TV appearances, a TV series, forgotten Z-grade horror flicks, dinner theater and, via John Waters’ outrageous Polyester, a revival as a cult film star (opposite leading lady -transvestite, Divine).

As for coming out of the closet: by his own admission, Hunter long dodged and even lied about his sexual orientation. (In my own 1985 interview with Hunter, he not only said he was straight, but also claimed he’d like a date with then-hot TV leading lady Linda Evans.) So why now? Figure, at age 74, it’s a good career move.

When not writing about movies, Los Angeles-based journalist Pat H. Broeske likes to watch them.

With more than 300 million books in print in 51 languages, Sidney Sheldon is an international phenomenon. His fast-moving yarns boast exotic locales, intrigue, romance, murder (lots of mysterious deaths), feisty heroines and determined heroes. In a Sheldon novel, the central character perseveres. In his own life, Sheldon has done likewise, which makes his autobiography, The Other Side of Me, such an entertaining and inspiring read. The former Sidney Schechtel who changed his name for a gig as announcer of an amateur talent contest acted on his dreams. Mind you, countless “big breaks” led to . . . nothing. Often disappointed, sometimes depressed, Sheldon nevertheless kept at it. He grew up with warring parents; his father’s varying jobs kept the family on the move (if the family had a crest, Sheldon jokes, it would have featured a moving van). His own assorted career pursuits took Sheldon from coast to coast. In New York, he was a movie usher while struggling as a songwriter; in L.A. he worked a hotel switchboard while trying for studio jobs. The turning point was a call from the office of producer David O. Selznick: could Sheldon do a 30-page synopsis of a 400-page novel, within eight hours? A hunt-and-peck typist with no transportation, Sheldon took the bus across town, picked up the novel and got the job done. He was a studio reader, dashed off B-movie scripts, wrote for golden-era MGM (winning a screenwriting Oscar for The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer), became a Broadway playwright. Segueing to television, he created and produced “The Patty Duke Show” and “I Dream of Jeannie.” He took an old, unsold script and turned it into the 1970 novel The Naked Face. Reviews were OK; sales weren’t. At one book signing he sold a single copy. Still, he’d discovered his forte. The Other Side of Me includes starry names, colorful locales and much suspense. Our only complaint: it wraps up too quickly. Biographer Pat H. Broeske has covered Hollywood for several newspaper and magazines.

Billy Crystal remembers his 1950s childhood Like his stand-up comedy and his on-screen characters, Billy Crystal’s autobiographical 700 Sundays exudes warmth, sentiment and sweetly colorful details. The man who remains everybody’s favorite Oscar host (eight times and, we hope, still counting), based this book on his award-winning one-man Broadway play. It’s the second book for Crystal, who previously wrote a children’s book, I Already Know I Love You (HarperCollins, 2004), in anticipation of becoming a grandfather. 700 Sundays was written to celebrate what came before the early years of his life, spent in Long Beach, Long Island, which not only inspired his love of family, but also his love of comedy, music (particularly jazz), baseball and movies.

Crystal once said that when he goes on stage, “I hear the members of my family in my head a lot . . . I see them and feel them.” 700 Sundays explores that influence specifically, the parents who fostered his early interest in performing (he was just a tyke when he began “working” the living room) and relatives like his uncle, Milt Gabler, who started Commodore Records, America’s first independent jazz label. As for Crystal’s dad, Jack, he ran the Commodore Music Shop, a fixture on 52nd Street and Lexington Avenue, and also produced jazz concerts. With two jobs, he could only spend Sundays with the family. By Crystal’s calculation, they spent 700 Sundays together; he was just 15 when his father died of a heart attack.

Crystal’s trip down memory lane is very much a 1950s saga, with its recollections of the young Crystal glued to the TV set, watching the men who would become his comedic icons among them, Sid Caesar (Crystal calls him “the greatest comedian to ever grace television”), Ernie Kovacs, Steve Allen and Jack Benny and sitting in Yankee Stadium, basking in the glory of baseball great Mickey Mantle.

Crystal revels in the life-changing Sunday of May 30, 1956, when his dad took him to his very first Yankees game. Thus was born a lifelong passion which triggered young Crystal’s hopes of becoming a ballplayer. The avid Yankees fan went on to produce the acclaimed HBO movie 61, about the rivalry between Mantle and Roger Maris. (Crystal also happens to own one of the Mick’s baseball gloves for which he anted up $239,000.) Then there’s his passion for jazz, which was inevitable, really, considering the Who’s Who of jazz greats who paraded in and out of the family home and businesses among them, Gene Krupa, Eddie Condon and Billie Holiday. In fact, it was Crystal’s Uncle Milt who recorded Holiday’s now-legendary and haunting “Strange Fruit” (about lynching) on his Commodore label. And it was Holiday who took the young Crystal to his very first film, the Western, Shane. (Remember the ending, where the little boy runs after his cowboy-hero crying, “Shane . . . come back . . .”? At that point, says Crystal, Holiday whispered in his ear, “He ain’t never coming back.”) Crystal once said that his early experiences with jazz artists had an impact on his comedic improvisation. As he explained to an interviewer for National Public Radio, “I think when I feel I’m at my best is when I’m on stage, and it’s my version of jazz because it’s just riffing or something.” 700 Sundays recounts other influences and significant moments in time. Like the time his dad brought home an album entitled, “Bill Cosby Is a Very Funny Fellow, Right!” The 14-year-old Crystal was so enthralled that he memorized the routine and performed it in a school show. (“Is that stealing? In Hollywood, they call that an homage.”) Then there was the time he saw his first Broadway show starring the multitalented Sammy Davis Jr. Crystal became a major fan, not anticipating he’d one day open for Sammy, or that they would later become friends. And surely, he didn’t think he’d one day be incorporating a Sammy impression into his stand-up routine. Nor did he know, way back when, the impact that family would have on his life and career. As 700 Sundays warmly illustrates, he knows now. Author and Hollywood journalist Pat H. Broeske is rooting for Crystal to return as the host of the Oscars.

Sean Wilsey grew up rich, pampered, privileged. Home was 800 feet above San Francisco, in a luxury apartment with the kind of view you see on postcards. Early mornings, young Sean and his parents took walks in matching blue jumpsuits with white piping. Their lives, like the scenic splendor out their high-rise windows, seemed perfect. It was an illusion. Wilsey’s engrossing memoir, Oh the Glory of It All, is about surviving a childhood that was all but destroyed by childish adults.

Years later, the adult Wilsey today an editor at McSweeney’s Quarterly realized there had been warning signs. But as children are wont to do, he allowed them to be obscured by his desperate love for his (selfish) parents and their larger than life personas. He was especially devoted to his society columnist mother, who looked like Marilyn Monroe and hosted to-die-for salons attended by the likes of Joan Baez, Gloria Steinem, Black Panthers, Daniel Ellsberg and others who toured the cultural zeitgeist. As for dad, he was a self-made millionaire (the butter and egg business) who would leave his more famous wife for her (younger) best friend. Up until his parents’ split, young Wilsey never even heard them fight.

Theirs was a loud, ugly, headline-making divorce. It was Dallas and Dynasty and Danielle Steel come to life, recalled Wilsey, who became one of those ping-pong children, shuttling back and forth between houses and lives and festering anger. (His drama queen mother once urged him to join her in committing suicide.) Recounted in vivid detail and dialogue, with observations both painful and humorous, especially involving Wilsey’s callous stepmother, this memoir is about great wealth, great loss and personal and creative redemption. It’s also about coming to terms with reality and responsibility. After shrinks, private schools, drug abuse and other desperate cries for parental approval, Wilsey reaches a crossroads while in a cell at juvenile hall. To turn his life around he examines where he’s been and why. The resulting emotional catharsis triggered this book, with its cast of colorful characters, its divine locales and a theme that resonates. Pat H. Broeske is a Southern California-based journalist and biographer.

After years of living a life of plenty in Lexington, Kentucky, Lisa Samson and her 18-year-old daughter, Ty, decided to take a mission trip to Swaziland, in Africa. They believed the trip would be one of faith and outreach, but little did they know the ways in which they would be tested and stretched. In a land where poverty and death are abundant, Lisa and Ty face the AIDS crisis headon, finding strength and hope in God’s unending love and compassion. Love Mercy reads as both a memoir and a spiritual diary, chronicling Lisa and Ty’s journey into both the heart of Africa and also into Christ’s teachings and principles. It is a story of sorrow, but also one of enlightenment. The truths exposed in this book can be distressing at times, but by battling hardships they might not have been exposed to on North American soil, Lisa and Ty are able to see the world through new eyes—and redefine what it means to “love thy neighbor” on a global scale. This is a must-read for anyone who considers him- or herself a follower of Christ, or who has ever pondered spreading the gospel abroad. This motherdaughter duo reinforces the hope that even in the darkest corners of the Earth, God’s light and love burn bright.