James Chappel’s thought-provoking Golden Years offers strategies to understand and address the needs of America’s aging population.
James Chappel’s thought-provoking Golden Years offers strategies to understand and address the needs of America’s aging population.
Jonathan D. Katz’s About Face celebrates the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising with deep scholarship and thrilling artworks.
Jonathan D. Katz’s About Face celebrates the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising with deep scholarship and thrilling artworks.
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For a time before the Civil War, Reuben Hyde Walworth was one of the most powerful men in the United States. He held the odd, now-defunct legal position of Chancellor of New York, which, according to Geoffrey O’Brien, essentially gave him sole authority over the disposition of wills, settling of disputed contracts and adjudication of property rights. Such was Walworth’s power that litigants frequently made the journey from New York City to Saratoga Springs, where the Chancellor had constructed a courtroom in his mansion.

When his first wife died, the 62-year-old Chancellor courted and then married 39-year-old Sarah Hardin of Kentucky, a well-connected cousin of Mary Todd Lincoln. Several years later, Sarah’s daughter Ellen married the Chancellor’s son Mansfield. It was a marriage made in hell. Mansfield, snotty and self-absorbed, concocted grandiose schemes and wrote lurid potboiler novels that enjoyed small success. Ellen maintained appearances and endured. But after years of abuse and separations, she filed for divorce. Mansfield moved to New York City and penned increasingly violent threats to his ex-wife, many of which were intercepted by their oldest son, Frank. In June 1873, 19-year-old Frank took the train to NYC to confront his father and ended up shooting Mansfield to death. This patricide and Frank’s subsequent trial riveted the public.

In O’Brien’s well-researched account, the focus is less on the details of the murder and the trial than on the Walworth family saga and the family’s place in a tumultuous era of American history. Probably because the historical records are spotty in places—and because O’Brien is too scrupulous to speculate—a number of questions are left unanswered: Was the family possessed of a streak of insanity? What was the impact of family members’ conversion to Catholicism in a country that still possessed virulent strains of anti-Catholicism? Like so many questions about the past, these may simply be unanswerable.

But two things are certain. First, it is in the end a very sad family saga. And second, Ellen somehow managed to keep the family functioning. In later life she blossomed into an extraordinary individual. In fact, so compelling a figure does she become that she probably deserves a book all her own.

 

For a time before the Civil War, Reuben Hyde Walworth was one of the most powerful men in the United States. He held the odd, now-defunct legal position of Chancellor of New York, which, according to Geoffrey O’Brien, essentially gave him sole authority over the…

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When you read Leonardo and The Last Supper by Ross King, you can’t help but think of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. Both books deal with Leonardo Da Vinci and his famous painting, “The Last Supper”; but where Brown’s book relies on suspense, the strength of King’s book is in its scholarship. Still, having read The Da Vinci Code only added to my enjoyment of Leonardo and The Last Supper.

There is much mystery behind this masterful painting, in part because of Leonardo’s reputation as a heretic, but also because the faded fresco contains the spectral images of Jesus and the Twelve Apostles, allowing us to interpret their placement at the table, their gestures and their facial expressions. This is what makes any book on “The Last Supper” so enjoyable, and King’s book doesn’t disappoint. First, we learn about Leonardo’s life. By the time he began working on “The Last Supper,” he was suffering a sort of midlife crisis. His work on a 75-ton bronze horse was suspended when the bronze was melted and made into cannons to help Italy thwart an invasion by France. The commission to paint “The Last Supper” on the wall of a Dominican convent seemed like small compensation at the time. But Leonardo forged ahead, taking three years to complete what would become a masterpiece equal in acclaim to his “Mona Lisa.”

As for the mysteries within “The Last Supper,” King has a good time exploring Leonardo’s use of mathematics and geometry to bring symmetry and perspective to the painting. And for Dan Brown fans, King spends considerable time delving into the “clues” contained in the placement of the Apostles at the supper table, their facial expressions, the shape and location of their hands and the type of food and drink being served. Among his conclusions: Two of the Apostles were modeled after Leonardo himself, and the food reflects the artist’s vegetarian leanings. One of the most delightful chapters in the book is King’s playful debate with The Da Vinci Code’s claim that one of the disciples in “The Last Supper” was actually a woman—Mary Magdalene, to be exact. I won’t spoil things by giving away his bold conclusion.

I highly recommend Leonardo and The Last Supper, whether you are a serious scholar of art, history or religion, or a casual reader who happens to enjoy all of the puzzles and mysteries that lie behind Leonardo and “The Last Supper.”

When you read Leonardo and The Last Supper by Ross King, you can’t help but think of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. Both books deal with Leonardo Da Vinci and his famous painting, “The Last Supper”; but where Brown’s book relies on suspense,…

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Women in Amy Boesky’s family die young, and they die specifically. The threat of ovarian cancer has hung over the heads of Amy and her two sisters for as long as they can remember. It killed their grandmother, their aunts, their great-aunts. The hallway of their childhood home was filled with the sepia photos of dead relatives, what Boesky calls her “ill-fated, all-female family tree.” All three young women have lived with a heightened timeline, urged by doctors to finish having babies and get preventive surgery by age 35.

The beauty of Boesky’s thoroughly compelling memoir is that she deals matter-of-factly with her horrible, random family inheritance and dwells not on pity but on the life that is lived even underneath its looming shadow. A literature professor, Boesky writes elegantly, almost poetically, about the year in her life during which she had her first child, her sister lost one daughter and gave birth to another, and her mother was diagnosed with cancer (in a cruel twist, it’s not ovarian cancer).

Boesky perfectly captures the prickly, competitive, always loving way she and her sisters cope with their own genetic code and their mother’s illness. They are not above gallows humor (they call their mother’s chemotherapy drug F-U) and the occasional neurotic lapse, sure that any lump or bump is a sign of doom. As satisfying as any novel, What We Have is about coming to terms with the fact that living life means facing down time.

Women in Amy Boesky’s family die young, and they die specifically. The threat of ovarian cancer has hung over the heads of Amy and her two sisters for as long as they can remember. It killed their grandmother, their aunts, their great-aunts. The hallway of…

Journalist Oliver Burkeman cheerfully guides us through the power of negative thinking in his new book The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can’t Stand Positive Thinking. Culled from his popular Guardian column, this book’s central insight is that positive thinking doesn’t make anyone happier. In fact, chanting affirmations and focusing on success may undermine our happiness by reminding us how we fall short of it every day and in every way.

So what is the “negative path” to happiness? Mining a long and venerable philosophical tradition, Burkeman introduces us to a variety of approaches that encourage us to detach from our relentless pursuit of betterment. His epigraph from Alan Watt evokes the central paradox of this way of thinking: “When you try to stay on the surface of the water, you sink; but when you try to sink, you float.” From the negative visualization of Greco-Roman Stoicism to the detachment of Buddhism, these schools of thought remind us that although we may not be able to control what happens to us, suffering is optional.

Although Burkeman dives into more contemporary New Age-y waters in his hilarious character assassination of The Secret, he admits to finding himself drawn to best-selling author Eckhart Tolle. Tolle’s philosophy, like much of contemporary Buddhism, encourages us to stop identifying with the self, if by “self” we mean those endless chattering voices in our minds. One of Tolle’s techniques that Burkeman finds himself using in daily life is the simple question: Do I have a problem right now? This reminds us that much of our anxiety concerns a future that hasn’t happened yet.

In other fascinating chapters, Burkeman looks at how goal-setting may have contributed to the tragic deaths on Mount Everest in 1996; how our post-9/11 preoccupation with security may be making us less safe; and how embracing failure, false starts and uncertainty may help us move forward in our lives. Burkeman’s book is indeed a witty antidote to the shelves of self-help books that don’t seem to help anyone but their authors; but it also has a serious purpose. Embracing uncertainty and detaching from our monkey-minds may help us become happier.

Journalist Oliver Burkeman cheerfully guides us through the power of negative thinking in his new book The Antidote: Happiness for People Who Can’t Stand Positive Thinking. Culled from his popular Guardian column, this book’s central insight is that positive thinking doesn’t make anyone happier. In…

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In one of the most disturbing scenes in Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, the saintly Marmee says to her daughter Jo, “I have been angry nearly every day of my life.” Eve LaPlante’s new biography of the “real” Marmee—Louisa’s mother, Abigail May Alcott—provides ample reason for her fictional counterpart’s daily rage.

LaPlante, herself a descendant from the Alcott family tree, traces Abigail May Alcott’s life from early childhood through death. We hear about Abigail’s relationships with her siblings, including her older brother, who would become a famous progressive (it is because of him that women were admitted into Cornell, for example). We learn about Abigail’s love of writing, her chronic bad health and her love match with philosopher A. Bronson Alcott. The last of these was, in LaPlante’s view, the cause of much of the trouble in Abigail’s life.

The Alcotts were perpetually in debt and moved more than 30 times. LaPlante’s chapter titles, often pulled from Abigail’s writing, reveal her subject’s despair: “Sacrifices Must Be Made,” “A Dead Decaying Thing,” “Left to Dig or Die.” Into this disheartening scene came Louisa, a daughter LaPlante convincingly argues had much in common with her beleaguered mother. Louisa vowed early on to become rich, pay off her family’s debts and give her mother a comfortable room. The strain between Louisa’s parents very much shaped her passion to write for money, which was why she wrote Little Women in the first place.

The narrative about Marmee’s life will be of interest to anyone who enjoys mother/daughter stories, American history or literary studies. Readers of the last category, however, may find that in fact, this “untold story” is already familiar, and may take issue with some of the author’s interpretations, particularly her obvious distaste for her subject’s husband. Still, the long and vital quotations from primary documents (some of them newly uncovered) and LaPlante’s careful research more than compensate for the book’s limitations. Especially as we move into the winter season, when many of us will cue our DVD players to the opening scene of Little Women, Marmee & Louisa is well worth a read.

In one of the most disturbing scenes in Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, the saintly Marmee says to her daughter Jo, “I have been angry nearly every day of my life.” Eve LaPlante’s new biography of the “real” Marmee—Louisa’s mother, Abigail May Alcott—provides ample reason…

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What seems to be there, but isn’t?

As Dr. Oliver Sacks explains in Hallucinations, his latest collection of absorbing essays, “Hallucinations, beyond any other waking experience, can excite, bewilder, terrify, or inspire, leading to folklore and the myths (sublime, horrible, creative, and playful) which perhaps no individual and no culture can wholly dispense with.”

Hallucinations, which differ starkly from dreams and imagination, are often associated with wild visions induced by fever, madness or drugs. They come in much greater variety, however, and include hearing voices, music or noises, feeling things or smelling odors—none of which exist. This multitude of illusions has a grand litany of causes, including injury, illness, migraines, trauma, epilepsy and more.

As always, Sacks, the best-selling author of Awakenings and The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, describes a fascinating cast of patients, starting with a blind, elderly woman named Rosalie, who suddenly began seeing a parade of people in colorful “Eastern” dress and animals, and later a group of somber men in dark suits, and finally, crowds of tiny people and children climbing up the sides of her wheelchair. These crowded, complex visions rolled before Rosalie’s unseeing eyes like a movie, sometimes amusing, and at other times boring or frightening. Sacks diagnosed Rosalie with a fairly rare condition called Charles Bonnet syndrome, which causes visually impaired people to hallucinate.

In addition to Rosalie, he shares stories about a patient who keeps hearing Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” play repeatedly, a Parkinson’s patient who watches a group of women trying on fur coats in her doctor’s waiting room, a man who feels peach-like fuzz covering everything he touches and a narcolepsy patient who sees the road rise and hit her in the face as she drives. Hallucinations, we learn, can range from terrifying to inspirational, from annoying to entertaining. One of Sacks’ elderly patients greatly looked forward to her visit each evening from “a gentleman visitor from out of town.”

In these 15 essays, Sacks clearly explains and categorizes an amazing assortment of hallucinations, trying to make sense of phenomena that seem to defy logic. He shares his own tale of a voice he heard when alone on a mountain and suffering from a dislocated knee. Just when he was tempted to lie down and sleep, a voice commanded, “You can’t rest here—you can’t rest anywhere. You’ve got to go on. Find a pace you can keep up and go on steadily.”

No doubt his many avid readers are deeply grateful that the good doctor followed the orders of this life-saving hallucination.

What seems to be there, but isn’t?

As Dr. Oliver Sacks explains in Hallucinations, his latest collection of absorbing essays, “Hallucinations, beyond any other waking experience, can excite, bewilder, terrify, or inspire, leading to folklore and the myths (sublime, horrible, creative, and playful) which perhaps no…

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