College students aren’t having as much sex as everyone thinks, professor Lisa Wade writes in American Hookup: The New Culture of Sex on Campus. Instead, most students are just talking about hooking up—and participating in a set of rituals that goes along with it.

Wade describes the cycle: pregaming in dorm rooms, dirty dancing at parties and then pairing off in bedrooms where actual sex may or may not occur. The next day, the events are discussed obsessively with friends. The pair who hooked up follow rigid rules, avoiding each other to prove the hookup was meaningless. The next weekend, the whole thing starts again. 

To compile specifics about sexual behavior, Wade relied on journals prepared by three classes of freshmen. These journals are predictably scintillating. It’s important to remember, though, that they were prepared for a professor and may therefore be regarded with some skepticism. Wade complements the journals with data from national surveys, dissertation studies and journalistic accounts. 

As a teacher at a residential college, I was not totally persuaded by Wade’s representation of sex culture on campuses—there are many students who opt into social circles with other kinds of rituals, and there’s more nuance and complexity in campus culture. Still, American Hookup could be a helpful conversation starter—and Wade’s takeaways about how to make the culture of hooking up kinder and more compassionate are well supported and important.

This article was originally published in the January 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

The stark numbers continue to arrive in our daily headlines: 5 million refugees fleeing Syria since the Arab Spring began there in 2011, 1,000 a day arriving by sea to the Greek islands. Germany and Sweden are swamped with new arrivals, while Hungary closes its borders. Nine hundred refugees cram onto a fragile boat that capsizes in the Mediterranean, trying to reach Italy. Seventy suffocate in the back of an Austrian truck. A drowned toddler washes up on a Turkish beach. The world looks on these people and describes them as everything from opportunistic job seekers to desperate asylum seekers, but nothing stops the flow of refugees. Who are they?

In The New Odyssey, journalist Patrick Kingsley, an award-winning migration correspondent for the U.K.’s Guardian, chronicles the journeys of the people behind the numbers. Hashem al-Souki is Kingsley’s reluctant Homer, forced to leave Syria in 2012 to escape imprisonment, torture and death. He hopes to lead his wife and three sons to a secure future in Sweden. 

Kingsley provides Hashem with a camera and a journal. The story that unfolds is intimate, terrifying and ultimately heroic. Along the way are ruthless smugglers, corrupt politicians, courageous locals, dedicated international aid workers, surprising mercies and deep despair. Facebook pages like “The Safe and Free Route to Asylum for Refugees” and GPS markers are the new lures and travel guides—if there is cell service and a way to charge a phone. Friends and families left behind must pay smugglers they cannot trust. 

Three years later, Hashem is still wondering what the future holds. His journey is a sharply etched reflection of the disparate refugee policies of the European Union, Canada and the U.S. The future it foretells may be what Kingsley calls “an abdication of decency” in a humanitarian crisis not seen since World War II.

This article was originally published in the January 2017 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In his typically colorful and entertaining style, Tom Wolfe brooks no argument as he boldly declares in The Kingdom of Speech that language is the attribute that distinguishes humans from animals. Speech, he proclaims in the book’s opening pages, is “the attribute of all attributes and is 95 percent plus of what lifts man above animal!”

Wolfe arrives at his conclusion after a whirlwind tour of the development of evolutionary theory. Darwin, Wolfe points out, fails to provide in The Origin of Species any clues to the way that natural selection explains the development of language. Wolfe humorously observes that “mildly negative reviews of his book hit [Darwin] like body blows, and the fierce ones cut him through to the gizzard.” 

Wolfe points out that in the 19th century, Max Müller and Alfred Russel Wallace challenged Darwin on the subject of language and natural selection, with Müller contending that language elevates animals in the fullest way. Although Darwin attempts to explain the rise of language as a part of the evolutionary process in The Descent of Man, he fails miserably, according to Wolfe, and, as a result, “in the entire debate over the Evolution of man—language—was abandoned, thrown down the memory hole, from 1872-1949.”

Linguist Noam Chomsky—whom Wolfe calls “Noam Charisma”—rides in on his semantic white horse, introducing “universal grammar,” with which every child is born. Through his field studies with a small tribe in Brazil, one of Chomsky’s students, David Everett, concludes that speech is an artifact and explains “man’s power over all other creatures in a way Evolution all by itself can’t begin to.”

In the end, Wolfe declares that speech will soon be recognized as the “Fourth Kingdom of the Earth” alongside the animal, vegetable and mineral kingdoms.

Stimulating, clever and witty, Wolfe’s little book is sure to provoke discussion about the role language plays in making us human.

This article was originally published in the September 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In the wise words of Winnie-the-Pooh, “[A]lthough eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.” Tom Vanderbilt does know what this precious moment is called—today it’s known as “liking”
—and the bestselling author of Traffic breaks it down for us in an intensive investigation of what we like, why we like it and why sometimes it’s so hard to decide.

Drawing on voluminous research into the ways we like, and dislike, everything from art to music, Vanderbilt tries to pin down our preferences, something we think we know about ourselves but really don’t. We may be quick to hit the “Like” button on Facebook, but what that means turns out to be both subjective and situational. In You May Also Like: Taste in an Age of Endless Choice, Vanderbilt talks to the geniuses behind algorithm-based curation systems like Pandora, the food-science folks responsible for military rations and art historians who can predict your preferences in paintings. You’ll find yourself thinking that surely you wouldn’t be manipulated by cues like the color of your cola (clear doesn’t taste as good as caramel color to most folks), but as Vanderbilt’s evidence stacks up, you realize there are many unconscious social, environmental and cognitive reasons for your choices. 

You’ll also find that Pooh was right. One of the mysteries Vanderbilt unpacks is the phenomenon of satiety, and how it changes the taste of food. There are reasons the anticipation of a good meal is so exciting and the first few bites taste so good. Vanderbilt delivers the explanations with ample documentation and enough humorous asides to make his book deliciously palatable the whole way through.

This article was originally published in the May 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Read it and weep. You’ll find it hard not to. Written by a Harvard sociologist, Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City has the character development and dramatic drive of a first-rate novel. The core of Desmond’s study was conducted in Milwaukee from 2008 to 2009 and focuses on the day-to-day agonies of specific people who were frequently evicted from their homes by private landlords. In most cases, rent took from 50 to 70 percent of the tenants’ monthly income, a situation that made late payment or non-payment inevitable—and always reason to evict.

What makes Matthew Desmond’s account so compelling is that he lived among the people whose travails he chronicles. Some of the victims—mostly black and often women with children—lived in the inner city; the others, overwhelmingly white, lived in a dilapidated trailer park on the edge of town. He also spent time with landlords to get their sides of the story.

Again and again we witness the tenants’ last-minute attempts to find rent money, negotiating with their landlords, sitting helplessly in court as judges rule against them, watching their possessions being tossed onto the sidewalk and explaining to their kids why they’re moving to yet another school. Desmond is clearly sympathetic, but he is no sentimentalist. He reveals all the blemishes of the dispossessed—their unwise ways with money, addiction to drugs and alcohol and casual attitudes toward birth control. Still, he knows that poverty seldom builds character.

Desmond argues that government-subsidized housing vouchers should be available to low-income families and that landlords should be required to accept them. “Decent, affordable housing should be a basic right for everybody in this country,” he concludes. “The reason is simple: without stable shelter, everything else falls apart.”

This article was originally published in the March 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In 1979, Iran became a revolutionary theocracy. Since then, to the outside world, the country has been identified with repression, false confessions, brutality, torture and worse. But as journalist Laura Secor demonstrates in her compelling, enlightening and often disturbing Children of Paradise: The Struggle for the Soul of Iran, there is another aspect of the country’s modern history, a “revolutionary impulse as complexly modern as the society that produced it.” These are the heroic efforts of ordinary citizens who exhibit extraordinary courage in endowing the Islamic Republic with their dreams, who embody “the soul of the matter, the experience of politics as it is lived.” They have not moved to overthrow the government but instead challenge injustice, encourage electoral participation and push the government to function in the best interests of the populace. 

Between 2004 and 2012, Secor made five trips to Iran, where she observed four elections. Her extensive research included interviews with over 150 people, both inside and outside the country, about conditions there. They ranged from journalists and bloggers to philosophers and political operatives, most of them activists and survivors of imprisonment and torture. Almost all of her interviewees have been forced to leave the country. 

The story of Iran’s Islamic Revolution of 1979 and the republic that followed “is not only—perhaps not even primarily—a story about religion,” she writes. It is about politics and identity, about social division and cohesion, the convergence of many streams of thought and activism.

Among the many examples of bravery and idealism profiled in the book is Abdolkarim Soroush, a lay theologian who argues that religious knowledge, like all human knowledge, is subjective and open to question. He believes the Islamic Republic made a fatal mistake in emphasizing Islamic jurisprudence over every other aspect of Islam. Soroush was seriously threatened because of his views.

Anyone who wants to better understand the modern history of Iran as it has been lived by people there should not miss Children of Paradise. It is an insightful mix of first-rate reporting, eyewitness accounts and intellectual history, told in a style that holds us in its grip from page to page.

This article was originally published in the February 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

A noted science writer and the author of two previous bestsellers (The Rational Optimist and Genome), Matt Ridley is no friend to central planning or the implementation of grand schemes from above. It’s better, he says, to facilitate the gradual development of objects and ideas as they adjust themselves to changing circumstances—in short, to evolution. To make his point, he asks us to imagine how maddeningly difficult it would be to design a system for feeding all the people of Paris. Yet, as he observes, it happens every day through the uncoordinated and unregimented actions of legions of individuals. Language develops the same up-from-the-bottom way, he says. So has the ever-changing code of laws under which most of the English-speaking world operates. His is a ringing, thoroughly secular rebuff to the notion that the universe is human-centric and unfolds according to “intelligent design.”

In support of his ambitious title, The Evolution of Everything: How New Ideas Emerge, Ridley offers individual chapters on the evolution of the universe, morality, life, genes, culture, economy, technology, mind, personality, education, population, leadership, government, religion, money and the Internet.

While he concedes that leadership and a minimal level of government oversight are necessary for social stability, he is wary of their limitations. “The knowledge required to organise human society is bafflingly voluminous,” he contends, too much so to be the province of an enlightened few. “Free-market commerce is the only system of human organisation yet devised where ordinary people are in charge—unlike feudalism, communism, fascism, slavery and socialism,” he maintains.

But in setting up his bottom vs. top dichotomy, he draws too severe a line. Generally the ideas that the top tries to implement have fermented at the bottom—as have the current leaders trying to implement them. And top-down government planning has created advances unthinkable left to the private sector. In the U.S. alone, think of the Manhattan project that yielded the atomic bomb, the interstate highway system, land grant colleges and their enormous impact on agriculture and technology and even the government-designed campaign to curb smoking.

Evolution, as Ridley says, is “inexorable and inevitable.” But so too is knowing how to coordinate it and put it to best use.

August 29 marks the 10th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, the most expensive natural disaster in U.S. history and the storm that delivered a near-mortal blow to the city of New Orleans. An estimated 250 billion gallons of water inundated the Big Easy when its levee system failed, damaging four out of every five homes in the city.

Those and many other sad statistics can be found in Gary Rivlin’s Katrina: After the Flood, a clear-eyed account of New Orleans’ efforts to come back from the 2005 catastrophe. In the opening chapters, Rivlin provides a recap of the incomprehensibly awful first days of the flood. He then moves forward to tell a larger tale of bureaucracy gone epically awry—a story of city rebuilding strategies hatched and abandoned, of planning committees formed and dissolved, of political rivalries old and new. Writing in an authoritative yet accessible style, he tracks the ways in which these factors slowed New Orleans’ rebirth. 

A question central to the city’s future is whether damaged communities that stand a good chance of flooding again—areas like the Lower Ninth Ward and New Orleans East—should be redeveloped or written off. Resolving that question and settling upon a general restoration strategy turn out to be agonizing tasks for government officials and citizens alike. 

Rivlin weaves in powerful personal accounts from a cross-section of survivors—black and white, working class and affluent. While it’s clear that the city remains a work in progress, there is some good news. A new flood-protection system has been built and the city’s population has increased, thanks in part to an influx of artists and entrepreneurs. 

A skillful storyteller, Rivlin delivers a fascinating report on a city transformed by tragedy.

This article was originally published in the August 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.