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.
Previous
Next

All Nonfiction Coverage

Filter by genre
Review by

The centenary of the birth of choreographer George Balanchine this year has created cause for celebration and revival of many of his most famous ballets among them “Serenade,” the first ballet he choreographed in the United States, “Four Temperaments,” “Jewels” and “Allegro Brillante.” Robert Gottlieb, an editor and dance critic, served on the board of directors of the New York City Ballet, the company Balanchine founded, and brings a wealth of firsthand knowledge to George Balanchine: The Ballet Maker, his straightforward narrative of Balanchine’s remarkable life. Born in St. Petersburg, Russia, George Balanchivadze was thrust into the dramatic political and social fabric that soon produced World War I and the Russian Revolution. He entered the Imperial School of Ballet and Theater at age nine after arriving too late to take entrance exams to the Naval Academy. Balanchine’s subsequent development at the school as a musician, dancer and choreographer served as the springboard for his phenomenal output of dances.

So did money or lack of it. Though never outwardly bothered by either having money or being penniless, Balanchine always seemed to thrive in situations where time was of the essence, money was on the line or a problem presented itself. Throughout his prolific career his five marriages (all to ballet dancers, most of them much younger than he), his early wandering years after he left Stalinist Russia creating works for Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes and other European companies, his time as a choreographer on Broadway and in Holly-wood, and his subsequent maturation with the School of American Ballet and the New York City Ballet Balanchine, like Shakespeare, seemed to create his most inspired works out of the most mundane of circumstances. Bonnie Arant Ertelt is a writer in Nashville.

The centenary of the birth of choreographer George Balanchine this year has created cause for celebration and revival of many of his most famous ballets among them "Serenade," the first ballet he choreographed in the United States, "Four Temperaments," "Jewels" and "Allegro Brillante." Robert Gottlieb,…
Review by

Tania Head was in the south tower of the World Trade Center when a hijacked jet sliced through it, leaving her severely injured and barely able to escape before the tower came crashing down. In those same perilous moments, her fiancé died in the blaze of the north tower.

Or so her story went.

The subtitle of The Woman Who Wasn’t There is “The True Story of an Incredible Deception,” but “incredible” doesn’t begin to capture the depth of Head’s lies in the wake of the horrific terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Head, whose seeming strength and resilience made her a cause célèbre and co-chair of the powerful World Trade Center Survivors’ Network, was not in the tower on that awful day. She was not even in the country.

How Head managed to hoodwink so many for so long is the focus of this fascinating book. She started her deception shortly after September 11, when she joined an online survivors’ forum. Her mind-boggling story of loss and hope comforted others suffering from guilt and post-traumatic stress. No one thought to question the veracity of her account, which included an encounter with a badly burned man in the 78th-floor sky lobby who begged her to return his wedding ring to his wife. Her story began to unravel only after a New York Times reporter profiling her for an anniversary story tried to verify her claims.

Head’s motives are perhaps unknowable, but the reader is left yearning for more answers than the authors are able to give. Certainly Head had her share of traumatic experiences: As a teen, she was in a serious car accident that nearly severed her arm. Her parents had an ugly divorce, and her father and brother were involved in a high-profile embezzlement scandal. But what causes someone to exploit such a tragic event? Head never applied for victim compensation, and her work with the Network was voluntary. In the end, all she gained was a small measure of fame and intimate friendships with survivors. Ultimately, The Woman Who Wasn’t There forces us to examine our need for connection and purpose by any means necessary.

Tania Head was in the south tower of the World Trade Center when a hijacked jet sliced through it, leaving her severely injured and barely able to escape before the tower came crashing down. In those same perilous moments, her fiancé died in the blaze…

Review by

Cartoonist Jen Sorensen once drew a strip titled “How to get Americans to care about genocide,” which included “Darfur: The Movie, starring Russell Crowe as an aid worker.” She may be onto something: Jonathan Gottschall argues, among other things, that fiction triggers empathy more effectively than nonfiction, giving Crowe a leg up on Anderson Cooper. Surprisingly, that’s not always a bad thing.

Gottschall roots his theory in early childhood, where kids are constantly making up stories that weave through their playtimes. Virtually all of them hinge on problems, offering a ready-made “plot” for princesses or firemen to jump into. These stories give them a place to practice social and problem-solving skills in a low-risk environment. Adults do this in daydreams, and some researchers believe our sleeping dreams serve much the same function (we just tend to forget those parts because they look so much like daily life, unlike when we’re late to class . . . and arrive in our underwear).

Adult fiction may feature more sophisticated plots, but the stories we’re drawn to are still almost entirely problem-focused. Even the scripted worlds of so-called reality television are designed to promote screaming matches, tearful reconciliations and hot-tub hookups. Would you really tune in to a show where nobody drank, swore or ate anyone else’s peanut butter? Obstacles are key to story as we understand it.

Gottschall looks at anthropological and neurobiological evidence that stories are part of human survival and evolution. The great religious texts offer people stories that unite them in communities and promote a common moral good. Uncle Tom’s Cabin shifted popular sentiment about slavery and roused passions at home and abroad as the nation went to war. Of course, the same degree of attachment can lead to tragic consequences as well; many of history’s atrocities originated from religious beliefs taken to extremes. Story is a double-edged sword, but one we play with daily.

The Storytelling Animal is informative, but also a lot of fun, as when Gottschall vividly describes the “Neverlands” his daughters create in their playtime. Anyone who has wondered why stories affect us the way they do will find a new appreciation of our collective desire to be spellbound in this fascinating book.

Cartoonist Jen Sorensen once drew a strip titled “How to get Americans to care about genocide,” which included “Darfur: The Movie, starring Russell Crowe as an aid worker.” She may be onto something: Jonathan Gottschall argues, among other things, that fiction triggers empathy more…

With his probing curiosity, his dazzling research, his elegant prose and his deep commitment to bio­diversity, Pulitzer Prize-winning biologist (The Ants) and novelist (The Anthill) Edward O. Wilson has spent his life searching for the evolutionary paths by which humans developed and passed along the social behaviors that best promote the survival of our species. His eloquent, magisterial and compelling new book offers a kind of summing-up of his magnificent career.

In The Social Conquest of Earth, Wilson asks three simple questions: “Where do we come from?”; “What are we?”; and “Where are we going?” Answering these questions, however, is not so simple, and he brings together disciplines ranging from molecular genetics to archaeology to social psychology in his quest to address these persistent queries.

Drawing upon detailed mathematical models and meticulous biological research, including his own work with the social insects—ants, wasps, termites—Wilson concludes that multilevel group selection, rather than inclusive fitness and kin selection, offers a fuller and more accurate explanation of the origins and development of human social behavior. He demonstrates persuasively how the conflict between individual selection (the competition for survival among members of the same group) and group selection (which shapes instincts that tend to make individuals altruistic toward one another) has led to our very human struggle between good and evil. The worst in our nature coexists with the best; to scrub it out, even if such were possible, would make us less than human.

While not everyone will agree with Wilson’s provocative and challenging conclusions, everyone who engages with his ideas will discover sparkling gems of wisdom uncovered by the man who is our Darwin and our Thoreau.

With his probing curiosity, his dazzling research, his elegant prose and his deep commitment to bio­diversity, Pulitzer Prize-winning biologist (The Ants) and novelist (The Anthill) Edward O. Wilson has spent his life searching for the evolutionary paths by which humans developed and passed along the…

Review by

I would read Geoff Dyer on any subject—partly because his writing is always unfailingly beautiful, and partly because to read him on any subject is to read him on pretty much every subject. He’s not inclined to take the shortest, most direct route to his ostensible destination; he likes tangents. He’s often grumpy or depressive, but simultaneously brilliant and hilarious. His book about trying to write a book about D.H. Lawrence, Out of Sheer Rage, should be required reading for anyone who’s ever thought writing a book sounded like a good idea. Whatever he’s writing about, at least in his nonfiction, Geoff Dyer is always also writing about Geoff Dyer, and about art, and about the fragile intersection of neurosis and inspiration. Among other things.

In his latest, Zona—a meditation on the 1979 film Stalker by the great Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky—Dyer veers off onto such topics as his wife’s eerie resemblance to Natascha McElhone in the Steven Soderbergh remake of Tarkovsky’s Solaris; drinking beer in pubs; The Wizard of Oz; three-ways; a Bjork song; the dog he’ll probably never have and lots more.

Which isn’t to imply that the book is scattered. Dyer’s narrative follows the film from beginning to end, shot-by-shot. (He writes in a footnote that he had intended to divide the book into 142 sections, to correspond with the 142 shots in the film, “but then, as I became engrossed and re-engrossed in the film, I kept losing track of where one shot ended and another began.”) The effect is similar to that of a really top-notch commentary track, or of watching a familiar movie with someone much more observant and insightful than yourself. Someone who’s also maybe slightly off-kilter and very good at brutally honest self-analysis.

Dyer’s visual descriptions are so meticulous and detailed that you could easily enjoy the book even without having seen Stalker—although that would sort of be missing the point. I think the best approach is to watch the film once, then read the book, then re-watch the film with Dyer’s voice in your head. The very dedicated might also note and seek out the several other titles mentioned in the text and the copious footnotes (the footnotes are substantial, often covering multiple pages, and are not to be missed). It’ll be the most fun you can possibly have watching a long, gray, beautiful, poetic, slow-moving Russian film about the search for hope and self-discovery.

Becky Ohlsen writes from Portland, Oregon.

I would read Geoff Dyer on any subject—partly because his writing is always unfailingly beautiful, and partly because to read him on any subject is to read him on pretty much every subject. He’s not inclined to take the shortest, most direct route to his…

Review by

Cary Grant was the embodiment of grace and perfection. And, my, but he looked good. But beneath the suave demeanor was a man of darkly troubled complexities. As Cary Grant: The Biography details, the former Archibald Leach was forever haunted by his English childhood and his relationship with the mother who wound up in an asylum. Marc Eliot, who previously penned the musical sagas of Bruce Springsteen and the Eagles, relies largely on previously published books and articles for source material. He makes good use of Grant’s own interviews and the memories he shared on the lecture circuit. And Dyan Cannon’s divorce testimony is an eye-opener. Wife number four, Cannon was 35 years younger than Grant who ruled the roost as if he were, well, her daddy. (He once locked her in her room to keep her from wearing a short skirt in public.) Less convincing, but no less entertaining, are recycled accounts of Grant’s alleged relationship with western star Randolph Scott. If this really happened, Grant truly should have won the Oscar he craved. Pat H. Broeske is the co-author of Howard Hughes: The Untold Story, which would also make a terrific holiday gift.

Cary Grant was the embodiment of grace and perfection. And, my, but he looked good. But beneath the suave demeanor was a man of darkly troubled complexities. As Cary Grant: The Biography details, the former Archibald Leach was forever haunted by his English childhood and…

Want more BookPage?

Stay on top of new releases: Sign up for our newsletter to receive reading recommendations in your favorite genres.

Trending Nonfiction

Author Interviews

Recent Features