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Noel Coward once said that only "mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun." Journalist Jeroen van Bergeijk, whose chronicle of an "auto-misadventure across the Sahara," piloting his used 190D from Amsterdam to Ouagadougou in My Mercedes Is Not for Sale, is Dutch. You do the math.

Crazy-making is also often funny-making, and van B’s musings on subjects like the state of African commerce ("Things in Africa come in two forms: broken or almost broken.") inform the armchair traveler about the real on-the-road experience in ways Baedeker and Lonely Planet never could. In a place where border delays may be measured in days rather than minutes, our explorer has learned to pass his idle time wisely: not only do we hear digressions, related in some detail, about the history of the Paris to Dakar Rally and the disastrous expeditions to map out the desert in advance of a never-completed Trans-Sahara Railway, we also meet every previous owner of his humble Mercedes and travel to the factory in Bremen where it was built two decades ago.

Places like Mauritania, Togo, Burkina Faso and Benin will likely never rank with France, Mexico, The Bahamas or even China as a potential vacation destination. But thanks to a crazy Dutchman who boldly went where few men ever go, entertaining us every kilometer of the way, I’m dusting off the old passport and thinking . . . maybe a visit to Disneyland would be nice this summer.

 

Noel Coward once said that only "mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun." Journalist Jeroen van Bergeijk, whose chronicle of an "auto-misadventure across the Sahara," piloting his used 190D from Amsterdam to Ouagadougou in My Mercedes Is Not for Sale, is Dutch. You do the math. Crazy-making is also often funny-making, and […]
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In a literary marketplace flooded with memoirs, I approached the reading of The Memory Palace with apprehension. The title sounds awfully familiar, and the publisher’s press release makes no apologies, announcing that the book follows “in the footsteps of The Glass Castle and The Liars’ Club.” I took a deep breath and prepared for another harrowing tale of how a mother ruined a daughter’s life.

But I set my skepticism aside after reading the first chapter of The Memory Palace, when I discovered that Mira Bartók’s account of her tortured upbringing by a schizophrenic mother is as compelling as the two best-selling memoirs to which it is compared. The book also boasts a strong storyline and eloquent writing. Bartók hooked me with this early passage: “We children of schizophrenics are the great secret-keepers, the ones who don’t want you to think that anything is wrong.”

Norma Herr is a musical prodigy whose schizophrenia slowly takes control of her life. After she gives birth to two daughters, Mira and Rachel, her husband leaves her. As her illness worsens, Norma struggles to raise her children, and fails. Her head is filled with voices, images of dangerous animals and of alien abductors. She threatens to kill herself, and threatens her daughters, too, should they reveal her terrible secret. She keeps detailed diaries and hoards small knickknacks and mementos.

As she reaches adulthood, Mira Herr is able to escape her mother by moving to another town and becoming Mira Bartók, an accomplished artist and children’s book author. (She makes the painful decision to change her name, taking the last name of Hungarian composer Bela Bartók, in order to avoid poison-pen letters, midnight phone calls and unannounced visits from her deranged mother.) But Bartók’s life takes an ironic twist when, at age 40, she is involved in a car accident that affects her memory. Suddenly, she is fighting to retrieve her memories; like her mother, she is engaged in a battle with her brain. When she later discovers her mother is dying of cancer, Bartók ends her estrangement. Finding her mother’s trove of diaries, letters and the arcane items she had collected, Bartók uses them to construct a “memory palace,” and is able to reconstruct portions of her childhood.

Bartók’s story overcame my memoir phobia with a page-turning plot, sophisticated writing and, as a bonus, vivid illustrations from the author. It does indeed deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as The Glass Castle and The Liars’ Club, and readers of those memoirs will find The Memory Palace richly rewarding.

 

In a literary marketplace flooded with memoirs, I approached the reading of The Memory Palace with apprehension. The title sounds awfully familiar, and the publisher’s press release makes no apologies, announcing that the book follows “in the footsteps of The Glass Castle and The Liars’ Club.” I took a deep breath and prepared for another […]
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Move my cheese. I dare you. Yes, the business curmudgeon is now in residence. National layoffs and shady corporate accounting practices brought on a severe case of arthritis in my funny bone. Consumer debt, anti-mom hiring practices, a computer virus (and hockey playoffs that lasted well into May) just plain shut down my tickle reflex. This curmudgeon admits it recent business news has taken the sunshine out of my earnings forecast. This month, humor me as we look at three books that promise to reactivate the funny bone in any weary road warrior. Let’s just say they will help you bite off a new piece of cheese.

I need daycare Sometimes what ails you at work is what ails you at home. If you have ever worked from home (or thought about it) pick up Life’s Work: Confessions of an Unbalanced Mom by Lisa Belkin. She’ll stop you before you do great damage to yourself. Belkin, the author of the witty weekly Life’s Work column in The New York Times, exposes the myths and joys of work, family and the balancing act that almost every woman tries to perform before realizing that it’s all just too much. With humor and happiness, Belkin describes the exacting way her kids and even her dog took all control from her life. They left her with a little time to work at the computer and a lot of time to clean up and make dinner for them. After Life’s Work you’ll never look at life and work the same way again.

Burn your business books The New! New Economy by Tim McEachern and Chris O’Brien is the one book you need to read to stay in business! Or not. A hilarious satire of just about every business book ever written, McEachern and O’Brien team to undermine and ridicule every business practice ever invented, touted or marketed as a "bestseller idea." Have you ever suffered through the unqualified boredom of a marketing demographics lecture? McEachern and O’Brien have written down what you were really thinking while Consumer Insights Professionals painted a rosy picture of your demographic. ("18-29 year olds? A bunch of overspending baby nut cases. . . . 65 plus? They’re just accessing the bitterness.") Yeah, this team says what you only thought. Forget Dilbert; he’s too tame. This is the kind of sarcasm you need to face your job day after day.

A dog’s life 21 Dog Years: Doing Time @ Amazon.com by Mike Daisey is a memoir of a self-proclaimed dilettante’s life at Amazon.com, a time he remembers as work, play and Jeff. As he describes his first interview at Amazon: "There was a certain inescapable sameness to their responses. They seemed fixated on the words Ôworking,’ Ôplaying,’ and ÔJeff.’ Jeff came up constantly. I had no idea who Jeff was." "Jeff" turns out to be founder and CEO Jeff Bezos and Daisey’s first clue that he was probably not cut out for techie Internet work. But Amazon hired him right away and the next two years of his life were spent bewitched and bedazzled by the Internet craze. Daisey’s tale is one of self-recognition in a business world gone mad. His curious, funny and slightly insane take on business will assure you that life at your office isn’t so bad after all.

Move my cheese. I dare you. Yes, the business curmudgeon is now in residence. National layoffs and shady corporate accounting practices brought on a severe case of arthritis in my funny bone. Consumer debt, anti-mom hiring practices, a computer virus (and hockey playoffs that lasted well into May) just plain shut down my tickle reflex. […]
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In fleshing out the creator of Roget’s Thesaurus, writer Joshua Kendall faces something of a dramatic and structural problem: How does one enliven and sustain interest in a man who didn’t make his major intellectual contribution until he was 73 years old? The man in question is Peter Mark Roget, a physician by training and a wordsmith by choice. Kendall ties his chronicle together by demonstrating that Roget (1779-1869) was obsessed with classifying and list-making from early childhood onward. These habits of mind proved crucial when he finally decided the time had come to compile and publish his exhaustive list of English synonyms and their opposites (the term"antonym" was yet to be coined).

Roget’s life was not particularly exciting – even to him. True, he had a smothering, self-centered mother who eventually went mad, a rich and politically prominent uncle who committed suicide and a harrowing escape from French-held territory in 1803 after Napoleon resumed his war with Britain. But there were long periods during which Roget pursued his career only desultorily, seemingly indifferent to the cause that would ultimately immortalize him.

To compensate for the lack of intrinsic drama, Kendall amasses details of places and personalities that were significant to Roget, frequently drawing on tangential and recently discovered sources. Uneven as his personal life was, it is clear that Roget was unwavering in his fascination with science. He wrote and delivered papers on subjects ranging from anatomy to optics to improving the slide rule. Roget completed the first draft of his "Collection of English Synonyms classified and arranged" in 1805, but he did not publish it – and then in a much expanded form – until 1852.

In his epilogue, the author explains how Roget’s Thesaurus has survived as a reference book and valuable literary property (selling almost 40 million copies) despite the advent of online parallels and a withering criticism from author Simon Winchester, who maintained that the work made possible, and thus encouraged, an indiscriminate attitude toward word choices and writing style. Kendall correctly notes that this judgment demands too much from the book and too little from its users.

 

In fleshing out the creator of Roget’s Thesaurus, writer Joshua Kendall faces something of a dramatic and structural problem: How does one enliven and sustain interest in a man who didn’t make his major intellectual contribution until he was 73 years old? The man in question is Peter Mark Roget, a physician by training and […]
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Seventy-five years ago, in March 1933, Franklin D. Roosevelt became president amid the gravest economic crisis in the nation’s history. The Depression that began with, but was not necessarily caused by, the collapse of the stock market in 1929 was now pulling banks, farms and businesses into a swirling vortex. Unemployment ratcheted up to 25 percent.

FDR’s response was to try something, anything, to get people working again. Congress agreed to put the federal government in debt to create jobs, and in 1935, the Works Progress Administration started to “make the dirt fly,” in the president’s words. Before it officially closed in 1943, the workers hired and paid by the WPA built countless roads, stadiums, libraries, parks, New York’s LaGuardia Airport and San Antonio’s River Walk.

In American-Made: The Enduring Legacy of the WPA, When FDR Put the Nation to Work, writer Nick Taylor revels in the sprawling construction statistics. Nonetheless, he gives space in this story to the WPA’s critics in Congress, who insisted that those initials stood for “We Piddle Around” and that Communists had infiltrated the agency. He also touches on the continued rate of joblessness, which persisted despite Roosevelt’s efforts.

The New Deal’s job creation, if it failed in the aggregate, succeeded in the particular. Taylor, a writer of popular nonfiction and co-author of John Glenn’s memoir, puts a human face on the WPA through interviews with the folks who got government paychecks and their dignity back. “It wasn’t no different than no other job,” said Johnny Mills, who dug out embankments and shoveled gravel to widen roads in the North Carolina mountains. “You earned the money. I always tried to make a living for my family. And it was help to us.” Taylor’s second hero, after President Roosevelt, is Harry Hopkins, who ran the New Deal relief efforts for almost six years. Taylor gives a rich portrait of this great public servant, a rare bureaucrat who spoke his mind against his relentless critics. His resignation at the end of 1938 is as good a place as any to declare the New Deal over, as Taylor does. Nine months later, Hitler’s armies marched into Poland and began the conquest of Europe. Taylor acknowledges that the economic engine of manufacture for World War II brought unemployment down to single digits.

Taylor does not enter the debate over whether the New Deal amounted to another American revolution by intruding federal powers into political, social and personal matters. But in his sketches of New Deal relief programs, one can readily find the idea of government responsibility for individual well-being and welfare. Did the government’s involvement in a job creation program lead to today’s federal presence in education? Should the crisis of 1933-1943 have made the federal government what it later became – a regulator in the banking and securities business, as well as the agricultural and industrial sectors of the economy? Those aren’t Taylor’s questions. Instead, he chronicles with engaging detail the work of one New Deal agency that “placed its faith in ordinary men and women [who] proved to be extraordinary beyond all expectations.” James Summerville writes from Dickson, Tennessee.

Seventy-five years ago, in March 1933, Franklin D. Roosevelt became president amid the gravest economic crisis in the nation’s history. The Depression that began with, but was not necessarily caused by, the collapse of the stock market in 1929 was now pulling banks, farms and businesses into a swirling vortex. Unemployment ratcheted up to 25 […]
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Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) considered himself a man of three lives: one as an ethnic Pole born in the Ukraine who lived the early part of his life in what is now Poland; one as a widely traveled seaman; and another as a writer in England. A master of reinventing himself, Conrad occasionally applied his fiction-writing skills to autobiography. To further complicate matters, some of those close to him gave inaccurate accounts of his life. John Stape, editor of The Cambridge Companion to Joseph Conrad and co-editor of two volumes of The Collected Letters of Joseph Conrad, is the ideal biographer for such a complex subject. An intrepid researcher, Stape debunks some Conradian myths in his latest book, The Several Lives of Joseph Conrad.

An orphan by his teens, Conrad decided to go to sea, inspired by sea novels and youthful rebellion. During this period he read widely and developed two defining lifelong characteristics: acute observation skills and a habit of living beyond his means. Of particular interest are Stape’s exploration of Conrad’s travels as sources for his later novels and stories; for example, his 1890 trip to the Congo inspired his most famous tale, Heart of Darkness. As Stape writes, “His experience of the depths of rapacity, inhumanity, and cynicism was to alter his views of life forever, and his contact with the climate permanently damaged his health.” Stape deals with the related questions of why Conrad became a writer and why he decided to write in English (his third language after Polish and French), dismissing Conrad’s insistence that he just sat down one day and started to write. Though Conrad’s extraordinary talent was recognized by many in literary circles early in his career, it would be years before he gained a significant readership. Conrad’s relationships with publishers and his close friendships with Stephen Crane and John Galsworthy are also discussed.

This authoritative and insightful book should be appreciated by all who enjoy Conrad’s work, as well as readers who like good biography.

Roger Bishop is a retired Nashville bookseller.

Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) considered himself a man of three lives: one as an ethnic Pole born in the Ukraine who lived the early part of his life in what is now Poland; one as a widely traveled seaman; and another as a writer in England. A master of reinventing himself, Conrad occasionally applied his fiction-writing […]

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