Two for the Road (Jane and Michael Stern)

I grew up in a town in Iowa where it was a big deal when we got an Olive Garden. (As a kid, I thought it was a very fancy restaurant.) We did have some national chain restaurants, but mostly of the fast-food persuasion. Instead we had family-owned restaurants, ones we went to after dance recitals to get ice cream sundaes and others that for some reason served a kind of fish called smelt, which I cannot judge because I have not tasted it, but the name alone doesn't bode well.

In Two for the Road: Our Love Affair with American Food, Jane and Michael Stern's memoir of their lives on the road as food writers, they take you back to a time before Olive Gardens, when almost every roadside restaurant served up local specialities. When they decided to write a national food guide in the 1970s, they had no idea what they were doing, so they decided the best thing would be to write about ALL the restaurants (they had never been outside the East Coast before), and so started a long span of eating 12 meals a day (they do detail in the book how this is humanly possible). They went to restaurants where they'd be the only strangers and Midwestern cafes where the salads contained no lettuce but instead gobs of mayonnaise, marshmallows, and sugar. (The chapters on Midwestern food especially hit home. Just a few years ago when my grandmother passed away, the sweet older ladies at her church prepared our family a salad luncheon following the funeral, and there was a lot of mayonnaise, a lot of marshmallows, and meat in places you'd never even think of. I went straight for the homemade pie.)

This pre-Olive Garden world may seem foreign, but I think there's still enough small, local restaurants around. In Iowa City, for example, there's this diner that serves pie milkshakes. When you order, you tell them what kind of milkshake you want and then you ask what kind of freshly baked pie they have that day. They make the milkshake, then take a piece of pie, put it in with the milkshake and blend it all together. We had vanilla with apple pie. It was the best milkshake I ever had.

From their years of experience, they also discuss the art of menu writing ("we cater to prim Donnas"), signs of a bad hotel (a TV that's chained to the wall), and signs of a good restaurant (a handmade larger than life pig wearing an apron on the roof). This book is a quick, fun read with a lot of nostalgia.

Next book up: The Lost Continent: Travels in Small Town America by Bill Bryson

Salt: A World History (Mark Kurlansky)

This is how I usually check books out at the library: I have a list of books I want to read, I search for them on the San Jose library web site. If they have it, I request it and depending on it's status (check shelves, current unavailable, on hold), it could be ready in a couple days to a couple weeks. Sometimes I come home from a trip to the library with an insurmountable pile of books, both ones I've requested and ones that caught my eye on the new book shelf. Three weeks seems like a long time unless you have a really big pile or a couple of very long books. And with Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky, I sadly learned that there was a limit to the number of times you can renew a book online.

I made it about halfway through the book before it was due. Jim pointed out, (and to his credit, he was most likely right) that I probably could have taken the book in and renewed it in person, as long as there wasn't another hold on it. But, I have to tell you, as much great history as in this book, it was lengthy, and there wasn't any big impetus for me to keep reading, other than the looming due date. I loved the old recipes in the book, and I feel like there were so many small gems of stories in it that I don't want to discourage anyone from reading it. Maybe the best advice I can give is not to read it during the baseball playoffs. Yes. That's advice I can stand behind.

Next book up: Two for the Road: Our Love Affair with American Food by Jane and Michael Stern

A Short History of Nearly Everything (Bill Bryson)

I going to start a personal campaign to have Bill Bryson rewrite all the science textbooks the American public school system makes children read. All of them. And while he's at it, maybe he could also rewrite all the history textbooks, too. Why? He's exciting writer. A great one, too. And he takes topics that have been treated poorly in the past by other writers, or deemed too abstract or too scientific for nongeniuses, and he makes them not only accessible, but interesting, and dare I say, cool.

I highly recommend A Short History of Nearly Everything. I may even start a Bill Bryson fan club. (I realize I've only read this one book of his, but I plan to read many more in the near future. And, I just found out on Powell's website, he's a fellow Iowan!) This book is not small (but when you think about it trying to cover "nearly everything" isn't a very small task), but it didn't feel like a chore to get through at all. It has the right mix of hard science with historial, yet very lively, anecdotes, and explanation. I will admit I had some what I will call wimpy moments---I did not enjoy the chapters on the supervolcanoes and the who-knows-when-they-will-come-at-a-moment's-notice-and-destroy-us-all asteroids/comets. But then again, I don't like scary movies. Overall, it was highly enjoyable, with way too much information to cover it all here. I will, however, share some personal favorite moments:

• The planet Uranus was discovered in 1781. However, the discoverer wanted to call it George. (Luckily he was "overruled.")

• "In 1785, [Dr. James Parkinson] became possibly the only person in history to win a natural history museum in a raffle."

• As mentioned in Strathern's book, the distinction between chemistry and alchemy was a tough one in the beginning. "Into the eighteen century scholars could feel oddly comfortable in both camps---like the German Johann Becher, who produced an unexceptionable work on mineralogy called Physica Subterranea, but who also was certain that, given the right materials, he could make himself invisible."

• "Physicists are notoriously scornful of scientists from other fields. When the wife of the great Austrian physicist Wolfgang Pauli left him for a chemist, he was staggered with disbelief. 'Had she taken a bullfighter I would have understood,' he remarked in wonder to a friend. 'But a chemist. . . "

Next book up: Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky

Mendeleyev's Dream (Paul Strathern)

I've been working with scientists for a little over a year now, and if there is one thing I have learned, it is that they believe in, and love, data. So, following in their footsteps, I'd like to present a little data from my experience reading Mendeleyev's Dream: The Quest for the Elements by Paul Strathern. The inclusion of the word "Mendeleyev" in the main title leads the reader, in this case me, to believe that the book is indeed about Mendeleyev, the Russian scientist who created the Periodic Table of Elements. (Seems straightforward, no?) However, out of the 294 pages of the book, only 39 pages are about Mendeleyev! Thirty-nine! Clever title? Perhaps. Mistitled? Indeed.

While the prologue and the last two chapters focus on Mendeleyev, the rest of the book presents a historical look at the beginnings of chemistry, all the way back to the Greeks. I did learn some interesting trivia: (1) Most of our understanding of chemistry began with (and was driven by) alchemy, the quest to turn nongold objects into gold. (2) Despite not having a substantial role in science for much of history, it's possible that the very first chemists were women, Babylonian women, who made perfume.

But mostly I have to admit I suffered through this book (until about page 100, when I decided to skim the rest until the Mendeleyev chapters at the end). There were some interesting moments throughout (Lavoisier's life and experiments, for example), but overall the format and presentation just didn't do it for me. It felt a lot like the assigned reading in high school, the ones that made science seem uninteresting enough for me not to want to learn more. But I'm learning more interesting scientific things everyday at work, and I just started the next book I'll be posting about, which is also about historical science (and this is clearly stated in the title), only it's so much better. A bajillion times better. (I've only started the first chapter, and it's fairly hefty, but so far it's great.)

Next book up: A Short History of Nearly Everything

Heat (Bill Buford)

It’s not exactly a secret that I enjoy books about food. And I rarely tire of them. However, sometimes I read too many of them in a row and I begin to take them for granted. As a friend recently said, you kind of take it for granted if you eat out a lot---the same way you may take a homemade meal for granted, that is, until you’re on a two-week trip serpentining across the country and find yourself in South Dakota, sadly ordering a cheeseburger without the burger to a shocked waiter, in desperate need of a vegetable. And your husband (then husband-in-training) has to take you to a fancy Italian restaurant the next night because you can’t stop crying about how horrible the food has been lately (did I mention he still married me? That’s true love.). And all you can talk about during the fancy meal is how great the vegetables are.

If you are the type of person who believes that Olive Garden equals Italian food, you may have a lot to learn. I don’t profess to be an expert. I’ve had my fair share of frustrating evenings with fresh pasta making disasters in a small galley kitchen (collapsed flour volcanoes, unsturdy giant raviolis). But when it’s not a disaster, it’s divine, with the right texture and elasticity making it worth the trouble.*

I was lucky. I learned to make pasta from someone who learned in Italy, and someone who very much enjoyed entertaining his friends with great homecooked meals. And I was glad to discover in Heat: An Amateur’s Adventures as a Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany by Bill Buford that the method I learned for making fresh pasta was the “correct” method he learns in Italy. Flour and eggs. Nothing else.

Heat begins like many other foodie books, the uninitiated (similar to Michael Ruhlman) taking on the “back of the house” in the kitchen. But the first thing that makes this book stand out is that Buford isn’t in just any kitchen. He’s in Mario Batali’s kitchen, and Mario Batali is one heckuva interesting man: perverse (but somehow in a charming way), larger than life (both in body and in presence), exacting in his food, and the center of attention, and he can probably drink each and every one of you under the table.

And if working in Mario’s kitchen isn’t enough to make a great book, Buford then goes to Italy, to really learn the food, and to learn from those who taught Mario himself. He learns pasta from an older Italian woman; he becomes an apprentice to a butcher in a small Tuscan mountain town (a place that would make me cry as much as South Dakota, as Buford often refers to the lack of vegetables and the “brownness” of the food in the meat-loving region). And this isn’t any ordinary butcher. He’s a butcher with giant hands, a giant voice that signs arias loudly to the crowd and quotes Dante with full force, one who makes what he wants, because he can, because he doesn’t consider himself a businessman, but instead an artisan, and because he wants to continue the traditions of the ways things have always been done.

While reading this book, I subconsciously began cooking a lot more Italian food from scratch (although, really, it shouldn’t have been subconscious, if I had only been paying attention). Last weekend I made lasagna, something I rarely do, and the day before that I made batches of a homemade vegetarian ragu.

So if a book presents an uncensored look at Batali, takes you to Italy, and makes you cook great food, what more could you ask for?

*I have to admit that I didn’t make fresh pasta in that tiny galley kitchen again when we lived in Madison once I had discovered RP’s pasta, a small local business that makes excellent fresh pasta. If there are any Madisonians reading who haven’t tried this pasta, you must! Also, I have heard that the owner of RP’s has recently opened a restaurant, so I would recommend trying that as well.

Next book up: Mendeleyev’s Dream: The Quest for the Elements by Paul Strathern

Healing with Whole Foods (Pitchford)

Healing with Whole Foods is not a light reading book. First of all, its hefty. Second, it uses words like "beta-amyloid" and "xanthine oxidase." But it also presented way more information than I was expecting. In fact, I was expecting the book to focus on what foods would be best during illness, and while that definitely is a part of it, I would say the overall focus is on good health. This third edition also starts with an introduction focusing on the latest diet fads and how those affect overall health. (If you do read this book and read nothing else, read the introduction. It's really informative and interesting.)

I've been a vegatarian for 10 years now, and this book reminded me that even if you're a vegetarian, you can still manage to make some unhealthy choices. Processed foods can really get you, as can sugar. As the title suggests, whole foods are the way to go, and the book gives you excellent scientific data to back up the claims. I also think it's important to remember (and they do say this in the book) that you shouldn't expect to change your entire diet to match the recommended one in here. It's just not feasible for most people, especially in the West (the recommended diet in here is based heavily on Chinese medicine). But beginning to make healthier choices is the best thing to do.

I wouldn't recommend getting this book from the library and expecting to read it all (it's over 700 pages, and I ended up having to skim the last half to get it back in time), but I would recommend getting it from the library to see if this is something you would like to own. I think it would make a great reference book (and there are recipes in the back, some that sound very good, and others that sound like they may be too healthy, such as "Toasted Kasha with Cabbage Gravy,"---I just can't get excited about that).

Next book up: Heat by Bill Buford

Game Time (Roger Angell)

I used to not divide the year into baseball season and the off-season. Now, when winter drags on in February (when all the holidays are gone and all we're left with is cloudy, gray weather), I have severe baseball withdrawl. But now I've finally figured out how to make it through the off-season (besides contemplating who I'm going to draft for next year's fantasy baseball team): Read about baseball, and specifically, read Roger Angell.

Game Time: A Baseball Companion is a collection of some of Angell's writing from the 1960s to the 2000s. It's a fairly hefty book, but never boring, and always interesting (especially the conversation he has with Ted Williams, which is near the end of the book. Scandalous!).

This is the perfect off-season companion, and one you could return to often. There's Tommy Lasorda, talking about the Big Dodger in the sky, and the debut of the young Julio Franco (currently the oldest active MLB player). There's a great piece on Bob Gibson, and how he may be mainly to blame for the lowering of the mound and the shrinking of the strike zone. There the humble beginnings of the term "walk-off home run," spoken by a player with a knack for an unusual vocabulary. And there's Derek Jeter's fan mail: "Another day, Derek Jeter brought over a letter from his thick daily stack and asked Scott Brosius for help with the handwriting. Then Chris Turner read it, too---there's a lot of interest in Derek's mail. 'I am a sixty-eight-year-old window,' they made out, line by line, 'and I would like you to accompany my eighteen-year-old great-niece to her graduation dance. She is a good person and so are you.'"

Oh, and by the way (this is especially for my dad), I noticed that Angell is wearing a Wooden Boat sweatshirt in his author photo (it took a careful look at the photo to make out the logo but it is indeed Wooden Boat), which is a company that publishes Wooden Boat magazine and also runs Wooden Boat school, of which my dad is a frequent student. So, as if Angell didn't have enough going for him, there's that too.

Next book up: Healing with Whole Foods by Paul Pitchford

Seeing Voices (Oliver Sacks)

When I was about 13, I decided that I was going to learn sign language. I think the impetus was that someone in my family had found an old "Teach Yourself Sign Language" book, and I thought if there's a book, then surely I should learn the language. I made it roughly one-third of the way through the first chapter, and really just learned the alphabet (which I still remember most of today).

I'm a big fan of Oliver Sack's writing: He has the perfect balance of scientific fact and narrative that makes his books interesting and accessible. I highly recommend the books of his I've read in the past (Anthropologist on Mars, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, and his memoir Uncle Tungsten, which signals how much times have changed, given the kinds and amounts of dangerous chemicals and materials Sacks had accessible as a kid).

Seeing Voices is divided into three parts, none of which really capture the beauty of Sack's writing. The first part began as a book review and follows much of the history of the deaf. The middle part deals more with scientific data, which is what I found most interesting, and especially explores the lives of the congenitally deaf. The section does sometimes capture the best part of Sack's writing but then quickly moves on. And the third part, well, I didn't quite make it to the third part. I meant to, but the book was due and on hold, so I couldn't renew it. Such is the life of a library book sometimes.

If you haven't read Oliver Sacks, you definitely should (see my list above). He's always almost interesting and insightful.

Next book up: Game Time: A Baseball Companion by Roger Angell

Send in the Idiots (Kamran Nazeer)

I was really excited to read Send in the Idiots by Kamran Nazeer because Nazeer attended a special school for students with autism when he was a child, and he decided to follow up on some of his classmates. Many years ago, I'd worked with kids who had learning disabilities, including a few who had autism, so I had a special interest in this book.

Maybe it was all the advance good reviews I had heard about this book or because I had built it up to heights it couldn't reach before I had read it, but I was kind of let down. I found the writing hard to follow; this, along with the author's many British-isms (referring to the shower as the shower cubicle), made for a lot of work to get through the book on my end.

However, I think Nazeer's perspective is quite valuable, especially for anyone working with those with autism, and I really wish I had read this book prior to working with those kids.

Next book up: Seeing Voices by Oliver Sacks

Candyfreak (Steve Almond)

This is how I know of Steve Almond: Jim, many years ago, attended Breadloaf, the writer's conference, at the same time that Steve Almond did and enjoyed his work. So now Steve Almond is a household name. If we see his work anywhere, we yell out "Steve Almond!" And after I read his book Candyfreak, I found even more Steve Almond connections. Turns out he grew up in Palo Alto, where I work, and not only that, he grew up on a street right nearby my work. Steve Almond!

Steve Almond is a candybar fanatic. Now I'm a bonafide chocolate lover. And I eat my fair share. But I also know that I am somewhat of a food snob, or to use a nicer word to describe it, a foodie. So I don't eat the brand name chocolate bars. I'm a Lindt, Sharfenberger, organic, local chocolate fanatic. Steve Almond, however, likes candybars in every shape and form (he has a hoarded surplus of the now out-of-production dark chocolate KitKat bars). In his book, he finds out that chocolate makers will actually let him tour their factories (except for the big names because their processes are "top secret"), and he finds himself mesmerized and entranced by the many "chocolate enrobers" on the factory lines.

Now I have to note that Steve Almond does not have the cleanest vocabulary, which adds an unexpected level to the chocolate musings. Also, the book isn't exactly even throughout. It wanders around for a while in the beginning before starting the factory tours. But overall it was still a good read. Steve Almond!

Next book up: Send in the Idiots by Kamran Nazeer

Eat, Pray, Love (Elizabeth Gilbert)

When I first heard of Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, I didn't want to read it. I didn't want to hear about some woman who traveled to all these great places and experienced enlightenment. I think I was jealous of her before I even picked up the book. But it was on Powell's recommended reading list, and so far I've really liked all the books I've read from that list, so I eventually got it from the library.

Gilbert won me over right away. Reading her book is like talking to your best friend late at night after you've shared a bottle of wine, you know, having one of those deeply satisfying conversations where you're completely honest with each other and find out that your fears and worries in life aren't yours alone.

Going through a painful divorce, Gilbert found herself wanting, for no practical reason, to learn Italian. After an Italian class in New York, at a school that she refers to as "Night School for Divorced Ladies," a magazine-work-sponsored trip to Indonesia, and some serious yoga and spiritual sessions, she finds herself wanting to travel to Italy, Indonesia, and India. And eventually she makes it happen.

Gilbert admits that she's not the world's best traveler, but that her strongpoint is making friends, and she does this in each country: Luca Spaghetti in Rome, Richard from Texas at the ashram in India, and an Wayan, a single-mother who is also a healer, in Bali.

Her year-long journey is amazing, and she does a great job telling it, describing both the highs and the lows, with a lot of humor and compassion. Jim and I spent most of our weekends in June traveling, and I took this book with me on every trip, and even after long days where I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and fall asleep, I couldn't help but read a little bit each night, and often had to make myself stop. I highly recommend it.

Next book up: Candyfreak by Steve Almond

Living Well on a Shoestring (Yankee Magazine)

Oh, to be American means to enjoy the pursuit of not being suckered when buying a car, or any other large purchase, to revel in the amount of money saved on sale items, and to find the best deal possible. I have not read their magazine, and I am not technically a yankee, but the editors of Yankee Magazine promise me that the yankee tradition of living the good life for less (of which I was unaware) can be universal.

In Living Well on a Shoestring, the editors give you "1,501 Ingenious Ways" to save money. I have found that books promising over 1,000 ways or recipes or tips are not filled with 1,000 good things. They include mostly mediocre ones, and sometimes some bad ones.

About half the book is devoted to money management, with a thick section on getting out of debt. If you are in debt, then I think this would be really useful. Some of their tips, though, were either too funny or not quite up-to-date: Instead of suggesting readers request the one free credit report every citizen is entitled to once a year, they suggest that instead you apply for a credit card with a giant limit that you would never be approved of, and then when you're declined, go to the bank to ask to see the credit report.

They also suggested that if you are an impulse credit card user, then you should freeze (literally) your credit card in the freezer in a container of water. This, they reasoned, would make you have to take it out of the freezer when you wanted to use it and wait for it to thaw (which could take over a day), during which time you could think about if you really wanted to spend the money. You couldn't, they said, put it in the microwave to speed up the process because that would melt the plastic.

Jim thought this whole scenario was so funny and ridiculous that he decided we should try it. We took a credit card, placed it in a large plastic cup, filled it with water and put it in the freezer. The next day it was frozen solid. But then the Yankee's plan went awry. When we took it out to thaw, within minutes the ice cracked (along the length of the card) so we were able to free the card easily. Not only that, it smeared the signature on the back and left the card with a funny, cloudy sheen, or as Jim put it succintly, "gross."

They also had tips for saving money throughout the year and some of them were good (such as ways to make an expensive hobby less expensive) and some of them were, um, strange (such as using old bras as support for tomato plants).

If you are interested in ways to save money, I'd recommend checking this book out at the library, knowing that you'll have to skim through a lot of less-useful tips for the good ones.

Next book up: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Paris to the Moon (Adam Gopnik)

In his book Paris to the Moon, Adam Gopnik recounts the five years he, his wife, and their young son spend living in Paris in the late nineties. In the chapter "The Rookie," he recounts trying to teach his three-year-old son about baseball while living there, where baseball is almost nonexistent: "Luke and I tried playing a little catch in the Luxembourg Gardens but gave up after about five minutes. For a present, around that time, he asked us to make him his own carte d'identite, marked with a metier de journaliste---a press pass from the government---so that he could pretend to cut through red tape. We made him an impressive-looking fake government document, with a black-and-white photo and lots of cryptic, official-looking stamps. At bedtime now before the Rookie story starts, he likes to act out a French bureaucratic drama: I play a functionary guarding an entrance to something or other who scowls until he haughtily flashes his carte, and then I let him pass with many apologetic, ah-monsieur-I-did-not-recognize grimaces and shrugs, while his mother acts out the role of the irate bystander, fuming in line as the priveleged functionary serenely passes by. I suppose it is about time we took him home."

I actually minored in French, not for the love of the language so much as the amount of credits I had. I got to a point where I could carry on a somewhat prolonged conversation ("I do very much like the music, and do you? Do you like to hear the music at the same time that you are dancing at the discotheque?"), but only with a Canadian (I was far too terrified to converse with a native).

I also think the little French, Russian, and German kids we see shopping with their parents at Trader Joes are the cutest things ever, and lucky for me there were a few adorable little French girls in Gopnik's book, such as Jolie and Armandine, who discover (much to Gopnik's horror) Barney: "Then we decided to hold a party to celebrate the coming of spring, and I went out to Mulot to get a four-part chocolate cake. When I came back to the apartment, half an hour later, the roomful of lively children whom I left drawling in haute French was silent. They were all in the bedroom. I walked in . . . and saw the three girls spread out on the bed, their crinolines beautifully plumped, their eyes wide, their mouths agape. Barney was in France, and the kids were loving him. The three perfect French children looked on, hardly able to understand the language, yet utterly transfixed. I held out cake. Nothing doing. . . . It was too late."

Gopnik also explores the intricacies of French government, and I had a hard time getting through those parts. Not that they weren't interesting. It's just that, as Jim put it when I pointed out to him that his beloved chessboard was (gasp!) covered in dust, you come home from work where you spent most of your day thinking really hard (in Jim's case, of servers, and all things techie computer having to do with servers), and to me, exploring the intricacies of French goverment right then doesn't sound too appealing.

So it took me longer to read this book than I expected, but it was a wonderful book, truly, in the end. Paris is so different from the United States, even their "New York--style" gym is Parisien New York style: "Best of all [the health club saleswoman] went on, they had organized a special 'high-intensity' program in which, for the annual sum of about two thousand francs (four hundred dollars), you could make an inexorable New York--style commitment to your physique and visit the gym as often as once a week." "We asked her if we could possibly come more often than that, and she cautiously asked us what we meant by 'often.' Well, three, perhaps four times a week, we said. It was not unknown, we added quickly, apologetically, for New Yorkers to visit a gym on an impulse, almost daily. Some New Yorkers, for that matter, arranged to go to their health club every morning before work. She echoed this cautiously too: they rise from their beds and exercise vigorously before breakfast? Yes, we said weakly. That must be a wearing regimen, she commented politely."

Next book up: Yankee Magazine's Living Well on a Shoestring

Swimming to Antarctica (Lynne Cox)

As I've said before, I am not an open water person, but I do like to swim in the saltwater pool at my apartment complex. I like the pool because it's clean and not as chlorine-y as the one at the gym, and I especially like to be able to touch the bottom in case I get tired. In Swimming to Antarctica, Lynne Cox recounts her life in the open water, where she prefers the unexpected nature of long-distance swimming. Cox became the youngest person to swim the English Channel when she was fifteen (she also broke the current world record with that swim).

Cox's tone is conversational, and she absolutely loves what she does, which comes through in the writing. Her tone can become too matter of fact at times (such as that time when she was swimming in Africa and, oh by the way, when she was almost finished with her swim, one of the people in the water with her hit a shark with a spear gun, a shark that had its mouth open and ready to eat Cox). But I don't think Cox wants those kind of adventures to be the focus. Instead she explores how much work went into her preparation, and how even though her body was more well-suited to cold water than most people, she still worked very, very hard. This is a great book and definitely one I had trouble putting down.

Next book up: Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik

The Making of a Chef (Michael Ruhlman)

The CIA (no, the other one, the Culinary Institute of America) is the most-prestigious cooking school in America, and Michael Ruhlman documents the innerworkings of the school in The Making of a Chef by spending time in classes and learning the skills of the trade.

The CIA is all about the basics, so there's a lot of consomme, terrine, and brown sauce making, stuff that you and I rarely (if ever) eat but that create the basis for classic French cooking. There is also more-modern fare (gourmet pizzas), and a bread-making class where the rising dough is in charge instead of the chefs.

Having worked in the food industry and having a great love of all things food, I very much enjoyed this book. It was entertaining and as fast-paced as food service during a lunch rush. But I can't tell if I have any sense of a nonfoodie's perspective on life. Once, when I was going through a phase where I was eating very little dairy, I was convinced that soy ice cream tasted just like the real thing. It didn't. Not that it wasn't tasty, it just didn't taste like ice cream. I had completely lost perspective.

But I do think that this book would be a good read for people who aren't foodies, because Ruhlman comes into the situation as a novice and leaves the CIA able to hold his own in the kitchen. He demonstrates how chefs think differently than most people (e.g., the school stays open during a large snow storm that closes the rest of the town). Bottom line: chefs get things done. And they get it done right.

Next book up: Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox

Fantasyland (Sam Walker)

Something has happened to our household. Back in March, Jim joined a fantasy baseball league. Since then, he's spent most waking hours checking on "his guys," yelled expletives at his laptop at the unfairness of that week's matchup, created a detailed spreadsheet that proved how triumphant he would have been if said matches were reversed, and has done the unforgivable: He's rooted against the Cubs. ("But Freddy Garcia was going to get them all out anyway," he said, as he was in need of strikeouts from Garcia, one of "his guys." "He might as well do it by striking them out.")

Last time I went to the library, I found Fantasyland by Sam Walker on the new book shelf and thought it would be interesting, given the current situation. But even then, I wasn't prepared for how funny and entertaining it would be. Sportswriter Sam Walker decides to enter the fantasy realm by going straight to the top of the Rotisserie leagues to a league composed mainly of fantasy baseball experts. Walker figures he can beat these "show me the data" guys by using his clubhouse experience and scouting players.

To prepare for the fantasy draft, he hires a statistician, a baseball astrologist, and an assistant he calls Nando who helps him create the "Hunchmaster," a player database that includes categories such as players that are single, players that have been arrested and when they were arrested, and players who are devout Christians. "As for the impact of religion, Sig's analysis yielded a troubling conclusion: 'Turning to God' he says, 'costs you 2.5 runs a season.'"

Walker visits the teams during Spring Training, and talks to the scouts he meets there about what he should look for in a player. "What they gave me was a synopsis of all the cliched ballplayer quotes I was likely to hear. 'I'm in the best shape of my life.' 'I got a personal chef.' 'I had Lasik surgery.' 'I'm on a macrobiotic diet.' By the middle of May, Schwartz continued, most of the players who say these things will go right back to sucking." Armed with this information, he goes into the various clubhouses to feel out the players. "I have a lively chat with general manager Chuck LaMar about the intangible benefits of having a bunch of track stars on your ballclub, and a ten-minute conversation with first baseman Tino Martinez, from which I glean the following: Tino has been doing a lot of sit-ups."

I can't say if those who have no knowledge of fantasy baseball will find this book as entertaining and on the mark as I did. If you haven't read any baseball books (and would like to) I'd recommend starting with Moneyball by Michael Lewis, which is a great, accessible, very funny book that will give you a good introduction to the stats side of baseball. Then read Fantasyland.

Next book up: The Making of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman

Eat More, Weigh Less (Dr. Dean Ornish)

In Eat More, Weigh Less, Dr. Dean Ornish dismisses a lot of common myths about weight loss. Not only does he do this with good arguments, but he supports his claims with scientific data from large clinical studies. (And he gives an excellent response to the low-carb Atkins diet.) Ornish is a cardiologist who became interested in weight loss when he was studying heart disease. What he and his colleagues have found is that it's not necessarily the amount of calories that you eat that makes you gain weight, it's the amount of fat that you eat that makes you gain weight. He promotes a nonfat vegetarian diet filled with lots of fruit, vegetables, and complex carbohydrates. Granted, people who are at risk for heart disease who follow this diet get results right away and stick with it, but it's a big leap for the general public to make. But, as Ornish notes, this isn't an all-or-nothing deal. Eating more veggies and less fat will have great benefits.

The second half of the book includes recipes by many famous chefs. However, famous chefs sometimes forget how we normal people cook and what kinds of ingredients we have access to. For example, one chef has a recipe for persimmon muffins. I'm sure they're delicious, but I don't think I even knew what a persimmon looked like before I lived in California, where they're abundant and grow on trees in people's front yards. Not only is it a regional fruit, it's also a highly seasonal fruit, available only in the fall. That said, I also did find many recipes that sounded great and seemed relatively easy.

Even if considering becoming a vegetarian makes your mouth water for a porterhouse, I'd still recommend reading this book for an understanding of how the body processes fat, why people who diet hit plateaus, and how best to fuel your body throughout the day.

Next book up: Fantasyland by Sam Walker

Why Do I Love These People? (Po Bronson)

Po Bronson is a good listener. When you read his books, you feel like you could tell him all your problems and he'd look you straight in the eye while you talked, and in the end, he'd make you feel better about yourself. And even though he often gives small pieces of his own life in his books, his writing seems selfless. Granted, I'm sure he's just as flawed as the rest of us, and I know a lot of hard works goes on behind the scenes, but he seems like a mediator, the kind of guy you could invite over for dinner, and it would be okay if you accidentally burned the biscuits a little bit. In fact, he'd probably like them better that way because it would give them character.

The families he explores in his latest book Why Do I Love These People? have problems just like everyone else. He explores families struggling with divorce, blended cultures, joy, loss, and faith. Some are involved in extraordinary events, such as the man raised in a low-income family who finds out his father (who he thought was dead) is alive and part of a prosperous, respected family in Nigeria.

Bronson interviewed hundreds of people while writing this book, and the stories selected for inclusion are the ones that stayed with him. They'll stay with you too. One person interviewed said that we don't get miracles in life, we get moments of clariy. Those moments of clarity exist in these stories and that's what makes the book so powerful.

Next book up: Eat More, Weigh Less by Dr. Dean Ornish

Interview: Lee Martin

The Pulitzer winners were announced recently, and among the nominees for fiction was Lee Martin for his book The Bright Forever. I’ve known Lee a long time, and cannot think of a better person to receive this recognition. He writes both fiction and nonfiction, teaches at Ohio State University, and is an all-around great guy. He was kind enough to answer a few questions for the blog via e-mail.

The Bright Forever has received much well-deserved praise. What's life like post-Pulitzer nomination?

Life after the being named a Pulitzer finalist hasn't been all that different. I'm still teaching, still eyeball-deep in reading MFA theses, still mowing my yard, still feeding the cats every morning (they couldn't care less about this Pulitzer business). The day the news hit, my wife, Deb, was in a grocery store and she heard two men talking about the Pulitzer winners. She couldn't resist. She said, "You know, my husband was a finalist in fiction." One of the men said, "Not good enough to win, heh?" And I don't even care that this guy said that. I'm too thrilled with the news. I tell you, I've never been so happy to be a runner-up.

What was your first publication?

My first real publication was a story called "Duet," in The Sonora Review in 1987. I'd published fake stories in other places, but we won't talk about them.

Could you talk a little bit about how your first book got published?

My first book was a collection of stories called The Least You Need to Know, and it was also my doctoral dissertation at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. It give me great pleasure to know I got a Ph.D. with a dissertation called The Least You Need to Know. But that's neither here nor there. In the early summer of 1995, just before I was getting ready to leave Nebraska to be a visiting writer at James Madison University in Virginia, The Least You Need to Know was accepted for publication at a reputable university press that published quite a bit of good literary fiction. I was thrilled. Then, before the press could send me a contract, I got a call from Sarah Gorham at Sarabande Books, telling me that Amy Bloom had chosen The Least You Need to Know as the winner of the first Mary McCarthy Prize in Short Fiction. "I'm sorry," I told Sarah, "but it's been taken at such and such press." I'd sent Sarabande a letter to that effect, withdrawing my manuscript from the contest, but they hadn't received it yet. I fully expected Sarah to say, "Oh, that's too bad," and that would be that. Instead, she said, "Let me tell you why you should go with us." Later that day, I had a phone message from Amy, trying to persuade me to go with Sarabande, which I ended up doing, and they published the book in 1996. A side note: a week or so after I closed the deal with Sarabande, I got a call from another major contest, telling me The Least You Need to Know was its winner. Again, they'd received my letter telling them I was withdrawing too late. By this time, I'd already signed with Sarabande, and I've never regretted the way things worked out because they did a beautiful job with the book.


Some people have negative associations with the term "literary fiction." Do you think there are misconceptions about it?

I like literary fiction that's accessible. I have no misconceptions about that. To me, good literary fiction gets readers caught up in a story while also peeling back some layers into the mystery of what it is to be human on this earth.


What are the last fiction and nonfiction books you read that you really loved, and what did you love about them?

I just finished reading an advance copy of The Horizontal World, a memoir by Debra Marquart. Here's the blurb I wrote for it: "The Horizontal World is as full of grit and grace as the North Dakota farmland it portrays. Debra Marquart writes of home and how we carry it with us no matter the miles and years we travel. If you dare think that nothing really happens out there in the middle of nowhere, read this gorgeous book about a family and their land, about the girl who strained against both and finally left. From the first words, you’ll feel a taproot set down in your heart, one that won’t let go because the story is as old as the land itself. You know the one ­that story of mothers and fathers and daughters and sons, that rough and tender story of the ties that bind."

I believe the last novel I read and liked was fellow Pulitzer finalist E. L. Doctorow's The March. I love the authenticity of the book and the way it captures the texture of a country at war. And, of course, sentence by sentence the writing is full of heart and sinew. I have Geraldine Brooks's Pulitzer winning novel, March, in line next. Gotta read everyone in the club, right? Hey, maybe if I'd titled my book, The Bright March Forever, I would've won.


What are you working on now?

I'm happy to say that just last week my agent closed the deal for my next novel. My editor had made a nice offer. . .hmm. . .maybe that's one of the perks of being a Pulitzer finalist. . .and my agent did her agent thing, and now I have a book to finish. My editor hasn't seen a word of it, so her offer came completely on good faith,and I hope I can deliver the goods. I'm almost at the end of a first draft. Then the real work, and I hope fun, will start. For some reason, I haven't been able to make myself talk about this new one with anyone yet. Superstitious, I guess. Or maybe there's just nothing there to talk about. We'll see.


I happen to know you're a baseball fan, and specifically a Yankees fan. Who's your favorite current Yankee? And your favorite non-Yankee?

Ah, the Yankees. Well, folks will really like me now or really hate me. With the Yankees and their fans, there doesn't seem to be much in between. My favorite current Yankee? How about Bernie Williams, the old horse at the end of a good run. He's full of grace and dignity, even now as his skills have diminished. He does his job and keeps his yap shut, and I admire him for that. My favorite non-Yankee? Alfonso Soriano. Hey, you didn't say anything about ex-Yankees, and, besides, how can you not love that name.

The History of Love: A Novel (Nicole Krauss)

I read The History of Love: A Novel by Nicole Krauss because back in December 2005, my NPR Books podcast mentioned it as one of the best novels of 2005. That was all I knew about it. If I had known more, I probably wouldn't have read it. Sometimes that kind of situation is a good thing (such as with Distant Land of My Father), and sometimes it's not. In this case, it was the latter. Here is a small list of reasons this book is not for me (but may very well be for someone else):

1. It's about a novel about a writer (as I've mentioned before, see my review of The Book Doctor, I'm not a fan of those kind of novels).
2. It does a lot of jumping around in time, place, and narrator, verging on the too clever.
3. It takes itself very seriously in its language.

That said, there were some moments I really enjoyed, which were funny and poignant. This book has gotten a lot of praise and may be for many, but not for me.

Next book up: Why Do I Love These People? by Po Bronson

Plan B (Anne Lamott)

Really, it's just this simple: you should read Anne Lamott. I've loved the other books by her I've read (such as Operating Instructions), and I loved Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. The aunties reappear (read the review of Traveling Mercies for more on the aunties), as Lamott treats them to a vacation on a cruise ship. Her son, Sam, becomes a teenager, and she describes "Phil," Sam's teenage alter-ego who appears without notice and luckily sometimes leaves just as quickly.

Most, if not all, of the writings in this book take place recently, during the current administration, an administration Lamott, like many of us, has grave concerns about. "I felt soul-sick this summer to discover the secret gladness in me that the war was going so badly. I hated it about myself. I felt addicted to the energy of scorning my president. I thought that if people like me stopped hating him, it would mean that he had won."

She quotes a priest friend of hers who says that the opposite of faith isn't disbelief, it's certainty. I love that Lamott shows that being spiritual doesn't mean that your perfect, enlightened, and peaceful all the time. She's always honest about her feelings and experiences, and it's often incredibly funny and sometimes quietly, beautifully sad.

Next book up: The History of Love: A Novel by Nicole Krauss

Blink (Malcolm Gladwell)

I had no idea that Chef Boyardee's first name is Hector. Yes. Hector. And apparently when consumers choose canned ravioli, they want Hector's picture on the label to look like that of a real person. If he's too cartoony, people will think the ravioli doesn't taste as good (although of course they won't realize this is the reason why they think that). In Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking, Gladwell explores these snap, unconscious decisions we make every day without even knowing it.

The exploration of these quick decisions are intriguing (such as in speed dating, the New Coke debacle, and what emotions politicians give away in their face) and terrifying (such as the policemen who shot Amadou Diallo). In some contexts, we can train our unconscious to make better, more-informed snap decisions, and in other cases, we need to learn not to rely on them (such as when these decisions are informed by stereotypes). Blink will definitely leave you questioning your decisions and your first impressions.

Next book up: Plan B by Anne Lammott

The Tipping Point (Malcolm Gladwell)

The Tipping Point, "that one dramatic moment in an epidemic when everything can change all at once," is about social epidemics, such as the case of the stunning and dramatic revival of the once-square and forgotten Hush Puppies shoes, which became the hippest shoe you could wear in the mid-1990s, to use a prominent example in the book. Malcolm Gladwell, much like the Stev(ph)ens of Freakonomics, takes theory that could very easily be mind-numbing in someone else's hands and makes it exciting and revealing with clear examples.

Gladwell explores word of mouth, how it spreads, and the differences between those we take information from (such as restaurant advice or what kind of car to buy) and those we don't. For example, many may not know there was another man who took part in Paul Revere's midnight ride (I didn't). There's a reason we don't remember him. Most of the people he warned that night didn't remember him either. They were much less prepared than those who were warned by Revere. Turns out Revere would have been a supremely popular guy who everyone knew if he was around today. And that's part of what made him the perfect person to spread the message about the British.

And as we are in the age of information, if you're trying to sell a product, you have to be aware of the "clutter problem" in advertising. We're inundated with so much information, it's really hard to get our attention. "Coca-Cola paid $33 million for the rights to sponsor the 1992 Olympics, but despite a huge advertising push, only about 12 percent of TV viewers realized they were the official Olympic soft drink, and another 5 percent thought that Pepsi was the real sponsor."

Gladwell also shows how small modest changes can create a social epidemic. Blue's Clues, the highly popular children's show, took what worked best from Sesame Street, and then made it "stickier." Surprisingly, stuff most people would think made Sesame Street most effective (the humor that also worked with adults, creativity, and word play) was not what the creators of Blue's Clues kept. They made a very literal show, which turned out to be perfect for preschoolers, and they made it interactive. "Sometimes Steve will play dumb. He won't be able to find a certain clue that might be obvious to the audience at home and he'll look beseechingly at the camera. The idea is the same: to get the children watching to verbally participate, to become actively involved. If you watch Blue's Clues with a group of children, the success of this strategy is obvious. It's as if they're a group of diehard Yankee fans at a baseball game."

I go could on with every more interesting and surprising examples. Like how the degrees from Kevin Bacon isn't six, as most of us believe, but is instead 2.8312. I think saying that a book will make you think differently about the world is a fairly big statement, but I do think this book is one that can change your perception of everyday life.

Next book up: Blink by Malcolm Gladwell

Traveling Mercies (Anne Lamott)

What I like so much about Anne Lamott's writing is that not only is she very, very funny, she's also incredibly honest about her feelings. Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith explores Lamott's Christian faith. She talks about being raised mostly without religion: "My aunt Pat married a Jew, with a large Jewish family in tow, but they were not really into Moses Jews; they were bagelly Jews. My closest cousin was bar mitzvahed, but other than accusing you of anti-Semitism if you refused second helpings of my uncle Millard's food, they might as well have been Canadians."

In one chapter, Lamott recounts being stuck on a plane encountering some abrupt and terrifying turbulence (if you go to the This American Life's website, and type "episode 104" in the search box, you can listen to a streaming audio version of this story). She describes the man sitting next to her on the plane as "reading a book by a famous right-wing Christian novelist about the Apocalypse. A newspaper had asked me to review this book when it first came out, because its author and I are both Christians--although as I pointed out in my review, he's one of those right-wing Christians who thinks that Jesus is coming back next Tuesday right after lunch, and I am one of those left-wing Christians who thinks that perhaps this author is just spiritualizing his own hysteria."

And one of my favorite chapters is about one of Lamott's vacations to Mexico, where she goes to the beach and is discouraged to see all the young teenagers in bikinis. She talks about breaking through "Butt Mind." "I was not wearing a cover-up, not even a T-shirt. I had decided I was going to take my thighs and butt with me proudly wherever I went. I decided, in fact, on the way to the beach that I would treat them as if they were beloved elderly aunties, the kind who did embarassing things at the beach, like roll their stockings into tubes around their ankles, but whom I was proud of because they were so great in every real and important way. So we walked along, the three of us, the aunties and I, to meet Sam and our friends in the sand. I imagined that I could feel the aunties beaming, as if they had been held captive in a dark closet too long, like Patty Hearst. Freed finally to stroll on a sandy Mexican beach: what a beautiful story. It did not trouble me that parts of my body--the auntie parts-- kept moving even after I had come to a full halt. Who cares? People just need to be soft and clean."
(Lamott does feel a bit embarassed by the aunties later in the chapter.)

This book is not preachy or full of flashing lights and buzzers. It's very funny, heartbreaking, and touching. For Lamott, miracles are in the smaller moments of life.

Next book up: The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell

The Opposite of Fate (Amy Tan)

I heard about Amy Tan's nonfiction book The Opposite of Fate on To The Best of Our Knowledge, a national public radio program produced in Madison (you can also download podcasts of the show). In the interview Tan talks about being caught between two cultures, between Chinese fate (from her mother) and Christian faith (from her father). She mentions that when she was a little girl, she told her mother (most likely as an excuse not to brush her teeth that night) there was a ghost in the bathroom. Instead of turning on the bathroom light to show her daughter the ghost didn't exist, Tan's mother took her to the bathroom and said, excitedly, "Where are they? Show me."

I've read The Joy Luck Club, and found Tan's writing to be beautiful and haunting. The Opposite of Fate starts out with a section just as haunting as her fiction. Tan discusses her father's and brother's deaths, which occurred in the same year, and the murder of one of her best friends (whose home she had been in the night before the crime). Although this opening section is probably the most serious and heaviest, I can see why it does need to be first as she returns to these themes often (the book is composed of various essays, speeches, and musings Tan has written throughout the years). Tan explores other mysteries and many often return to her mother. Her mother comes to believe that Tan's grandmother inhabits her computer, and Tan once finds her mother talking to the computer, "Do you still love me? Do you miss me?"

There are other lighthearted moments in the book, such as Tan's discovery of all the erroneous information about her on the Internet and her adventures with the Rock Bottom Remainders, a rock band full of writers including Dave Barry, Stephen King, and Barbara Kingsolver. There are also a few very literary pieces in the book, which got a little too academic for me, but I didn't mind that much as I enjoyed the rest of the book so much with its very personal stories about Tan's family and life.

Next book up: To be determined . . . I'm going to the library this evening to pick up a bunch of books I have on hold, but I'm not sure yet which one I'll read first.

Sister Noon (Karen Joy Fowler)

Sister Noon, a historical novel by Karen Joy Fowler set in San Francisco, stands out from many other historical novels I've read. It begins like a Robert Altman film, with many characters introduced mid-conversation while you try to figure out who is who and what in the world is going on. But, like an Altman film, the confusion isn't frustrating because the writing and mystery is so good that you want to keep reading to figure out what's going on in this strange, long-forgotten, magical world. The story includes an orphanage called the Brown Ark, a middle-aged "spinster" easily swayed by her imagination and adventures in novels, and a powerful woman who is black, but used to pass as white, and who has been accused both of baby farming and voodoo.

The suspense continues throughout the book, with brief chapters that leave you hanging and wanting to continue on to the next. Although I enjoyed this book, I thought the two other Fowler books I've read (The Jane Austen Book Club and The Sweetheart Season) were even better than this one, but all three definitely showcase what a great writer and storyteller Fowler is.

Next book up: The Opposite of Fate by Amy Tan

The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio (Terry Ryan)

I had to let go of part of my modern day cynicism to really enjoy this remarkable and sincere book, The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio. (It was even harder given that I had read Shadow Divers right before this, as the tone and style are complete opposites, but I enjoyed both books immensely.) During the 1950s, Evelyn Ryan, mother of 10 children, wife of an alcoholic who doesn’t do a very good job supporting their family, manages to keep her family afloat with her prize-winning entries, poems, and stories that always seem to save the day at just the right time. The jingles and rhyming poems may seem so different from modern-day advertising, but then, when I thought about it, we don't have to go back too far to find something similar (“Confident! Confident! Dry and secure! Raise your hand! Raise your hand if you Sure!”). Here’s an example from the book of a poem Evelyn Ryan wrote that was published in a newspaper:

Lawn No Time See

When I survey
My barren plot. . .
Long stamping ground
For tyke and tot . . .
I must conclude
It’s clear (alas)
One cannot grow
Both kids and grass!

Evelyn comes across a group of women who are also “contestants.” (This word may look familiar for those of you who read the review of Cookoff. There is a neat bit of overlap between the two books: Ryan mentions that a women in her contesting group was once a Bake-off finalist.) Contesting may seem like an obscure hobby to us, but it was a big deal at the time with companies promoting products through the contests by supplying blank entry forms at the grocery stores and requiring a proof of purchase, be it a label from a jar or a barcode, with each entry.

Along with the main story, this book is also full of nostalgic anecdotes, such as their pet baby chick who doesn't think he's a chicken because he was raised by a maternal cat, the same cat who can open doors by herself. Some may find the stories of the crazy antics/accidents of the 10 siblings unbelievable, such as the time Terry Ryan, the author, was left at home to babysit her younger siblings: the fixtures on the tub broke while they were filling it with scalding water so hot no one could reach in to unplug the tub. At the same time Terry tries to deal with that disaster, one of her brothers set fire to a moldy mattress in the basement. But I could imagine these things happening: my dad is the oldest out of nine children, and I’ve heard some pretty good tales from their house, including one story about one of his brothers falling through the floor of the second floor of the house and landing on the first floor, very surprised at what had happened.

Next book up: Sister Noon by Karen Joy Fowler

Shadow Divers (Robert Kurson)

I don't like open water. Rather, I like to look at it from a safe distance. When we were snorkeling in Hawaii, I stayed in my "safe place" (where I could easily touch the sandy bottom) while Jim explored further out. (I would like to point out that I saw three different kinds of fish from my safe place, along with a sea turtle, and even though Jim was braver, he didn't see any turtles.) Still, as I learned reading this book, I do really enjoy reading about people who love open water and try to test its limits.

Shadow Divers: The True Adventure of Two Americans Who Risked Everything to Solve One of the Last Mysteries of World War II is not a book I would have picked out to read on my own (mainly because of the mention of World War II in the title and the fact that the blurbs on the back are all from men, including Scott Turow and Senator John McCain). However, it was recommended by Ashley Merryman, who works with Po Bronson and researched his latest book. If you check out the Ashley's comment on my post, you'll see that she recommended I check out Po's latest book Why Do I Love These People first. However, due to logistical problems (i.e., the library didn't have Po's latest book yet, so I put in a request for them to purchase it), I started with Shadow Divers.

I couldn't put this book down. It's a unbelievable true story about two deep wreck divers who discover a mystery U-boat off the New Jersey coast. Some of the main characters are gritty and tough (in my mind I pictured one of the sea captains being similar to Robert Shaw's character in the movie Jaws), and the dangers of deep wreck diving are very real (as my dad-in-law pointed out in a comment, real people do die diving the wreck). This book is incredibly engrossing, full of suspense, and great detail. The author Robert Kurson meticulously researched his subjects and gives his sources at the end of the book, yet while I was reading the book, it didn't feel academic, or too heavy with facts, or slow---he does an excellent job recreating this amazing story.

Next book up: The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio by Terry Ryan

Freakonomics (Steven D. Levitt & Stephen J. Dubner)

I cannot believe that I'm about to say that I got really excited about a book about economics. I can't remember one single thing about the economics class I took in college except it was taught by a very enthusiastic economist, whose enthusiasm unfortunately did not transfer to his lectures.

Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything makes economics exciting. And I'm not kidding one single bit. I think this book is great. There are insights in this book that are fascinating (why most drug dealers still live with their mothers) and not always popular (their investigation into the correlation between legalized abortion and the drastic drop in crime). To make economics not only accessible to me but to most of America (this book is still on the New York Times bestseller list), the two Stev(ph)ens combine excellent writing with intriguing ideas.

Among other topics, the Stev(ph)ens describe how the Chicago Public School system caught teachers cheating on their students standardized tests and explore how a violent gang is structured quite similarly to a fast-food franchise. They discuss (over)parenting (it turns out most parents worry about the wrong things) and the importance of a name (citing one father who names one son "Winner" and another "Loser," and the paths they both take in life).

Near the end of the book, they state, "If morality represents an ideal world, then economics represents the actual world." I don't think I would have really understood that statement before reading this book. I can't recommend it enough.

Next book up: Shadow Divers: The True Adventure of Two Americans Who Risked Everything to Solve One of the Last Mysteries of World War II by Robert Kurson.

The Soul of a Chef (Michael Ruhlman)

When I was nineteen, I started waiting tables at a chain restaurant in El Paso. I worked until 2 or 3 in the morning, slept until noon, got out of bed to go swim at the pool up the street, then went back to work to do it all again at 4 in the afternoon. I could carry three heavy plates on one arm at a time. Ladies from Mexico with heavy gold jewelry and large sunglasses came in for lunch on Sundays, ordered Coke "sin huelo" and warned me "God forbid" if there were tomatoes on anything I served them. A drunk man tried to bite my arm when I took away his empty beer glass. A mariachi band left me a two-dollar tip on an $80 tab.

Anyone will restaurant experience will appreciate Michael Ruhlman's book The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection. The two restaurants and chefs he profiles are on a much different level than anything I worked in or anyone I worked for, but the basic operation is still the same. And in this book Ruhlman focuses on the basics of cooking, the smallest details of them and those great chefs that extend those details to great food and great restaurants.

The book is separated into three sections: the first on the Culinary Institute of America's (CIA) certified master chef exam, the second on Lola, a Cleveland restaurant run by a chef who's personality and style exemplify his cooking style, and the final section on the premier Northern Californian restaurant, the French Laundry, and its chef, Thomas Keller.

Ruhlman's writing is excellent, and I very much enjoyed the book. I do, however, disagree with Ruhlman when he says (and he's pretty adamant about this) that cooking is a skill, not an art. I think it can be an art. I'm a bit amazed he still held this opinion after the amount of time he spent with Thomas Keller, given the examples in the book of Keller's creativity and concepts with the dishes he prepares. I found the last two sections most engaging (though I did enjoy the competition aspect of the first section), and I especially was intrigued with Keller's story.

After I picked this book up from the library, I learned that it was a follow-up to Ruhlman's The Making of a Chef, where Ruhlman attends the CIA and writes about that experience. If I had known that before, I probably would have started with that book, but I think this one stands alone just fine by itself.

Next book up: Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

Don't Get Too Comfortable (David Rakoff)

As soon as I started reading David Rakoff's book Don't Get Too Comfortable, I was aware of a shift in my reading habits. I slowed down to really take in the sentences and I could hear David Rakoff's voice in my head. That may sound really strange, but I first heard David Rakoff before I read him. He's a contributor to This American Life (you may hear Jim and I bring that radio show up a lot. We're big fans), and like other TAL contributors David Sedaris and Sarah Vowell, his voice is part of what makes his stories so great. I'd highly recommend that anyone remotely interested in reading Rakoff should listen this streaming audioclip at TAL's website here (put "Episode 192" in the search box and fast-forward to his section).

In his latest book Rakoff writes about his consultations with two top-notch Beverly Hills plastic surgeons, where he learns that a procedure replicating six-pack abs without the actual musculature will, if you gain weight, cause these "artificially differentiated lobes of your fat [to] expand and rise from your stomach like a pan of buttermilk biscuits." He becomes a pool ambassador for a few days in a fancy hotel in Miami, rides Hooters Air, takes a 20-day fast, and has a surreal encounter with the cryogenic company that has Ted Williams' head in cold storage.

The book is funny, at times infuriating (such as his conversation with Robert Knight, who is on the radical right and spent ten years at the Family Research Council), and does at times discuss some not so, oh how should I say, PG-related material.

Other good books: Have I mentioned that we love This American Life and all it's contributors? If you haven't checked out TAL, go to their website--you can get all their shows free on streaming audio or you can purchase them at Audible or through iTunes. Some of our other favorite TAL contributors include Sarah Vowell, David Sedaris, John Hodgman, to name a few. Also, we once got to see TAL host Ira Glass live, and it was an amazing show. If you ever get the chance to hear him speak, I'd highly recommend it.

Next book up: The Soul of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman

How to Read a French Fry (Russ Parsons)

I was excited about How to Read a French Fry: and Other Stories of Intriguing Kitchen Science by Russ Parsons. I had heard good things and it was on Po Bronson's recommended reading list, which also included Garlic and Sapphires and Operating Instructions, both of which I absolutely loved. That said, I felt like this book let me down.

Parson begins by saying that a lot of us don't know the very basics of cooking because we never learned through our mothers/grandmothers as they did before us, and that science can teach us things that tradition used to (and that science can't break some previous myths about cooking). There are two other people out there that I know who follow similar approaches to food: Jeffrey Steingarten, who takes the words "test kitchens" to new meanings in his books (with great wit), and Alton Brown, who combines his scientific food tests with wacky antics on his television show Good Eats (and in his cookbooks). Both present information that can be somewhat hard to understand (or to take in all at once) in humorous, entertaining ways. I think that was what was missing in Parson's book to me.

How to Read a French Fry reads more like a condensed textbook, with a lot of information in a short amount of space, so much information that it is almost overwhelming (though there are summary points at the end of each chapter). He explains, among many other things, how to make mayonnaise, what the right temperature is for deep frying, what is the best way to store certain fruit, and how to make a pie crust. I did find the chapter on meat fascinating. It reminded me of my first week working at Outback Steakhouse where my training materials included a diagram of a cow sectioned into the different cuts of meat and my "hands-on" training feeling the different thickness of raw meat (with the kitchen manager responding to my disgust wtih "don't make that face--you eat this stuff!"---oh, little did he know).

With Brown and Steingarten, you feel like you're being entertained so much that there are no bad feelings about lack of retention. With Parsons, I felt like there might be a quiz at the end.

Next book up: Don't Get Too Comfortable by David Rakoff

Operating Instructions (Anne Lamott)

Anne Lamott is a writer who, at age 35, found herself pregnant with the father of the child wanting nothing to do with the baby. Throughout her son's first year, she documents the experience of having her son by keeping a journal.

Operating Instructions is a beautiful, thoughtful, spiritual, funny, and heartbreaking book, filled with wonderful small observations and very true emotions. I read it quickly because a) it was so good and b) it's broken down by the days of the journal entries, so the short little sections kept me thinking, okay, maybe just one more. . .

It's not a large book, and her language is so beautiful that the most justice I can do it here is to give an excerpt:

"This is strictly sour grapes. I wish I had a husband. I wish Sam had a dad. . . . Some friends of mine are having a baby in a couple of months and they already know it is a boy and that he has only one whole arm, which of course is also a huge thing not to have. They are also going to call their baby Sam. . . . I pictured the two Sams at the fiction workshop the following year, hanging out together while we taught our classes, and my Sam studying the other Sam and saying, "So where's your arm?" and the other baby shrugging and saying, "I don't know, where's your dad?"

Next book up: How to Read a French Fry by Russ Parsons

Garlic and Sapphires (Ruth Reichl)

I always wondered what it would be like to be a food critic. There are many reasons I would not be a particularly good one: a) my adjectives wouldn’t go much beyond “not good,” “good,” and “yummy,” b) at many restaurants I’d be limited to one or two choices due to my personal eating habits, so the reviews wouldn’t be representative, and c) I’d get tired of all that eating out. Yes, even though I am, when tired after a long day, the first person to suggest we go out or get take-out, I know I’d really rather have a home-cooked meal.

In her latest book, Garlic and Sapphires, Reichl chronicles her time as the New York Times food critic. Even before she officially begins her work, she realizes that NewYorkers take their restaurants way more seriously than they do in Southern California where she had previously worked as a critic. So much so that almost every restaurant in New York had her picture in their kitchen and were on alert before she started her job. Reichl goes to great lengths to disguise herself when on assignment so as not to be recognized, and the disguises are so good, in fact, that she even fools her doorman and her coworkers.

The restaurants she reviews during this time may be high-class expensive places few of us will ever eat at, but this book is more about this particular moment in her life. In all of Reichl’s books she contemplates the place food has in our lives, how it connects people, and revives old memories and traditions.

After graduate school I stopped reading for the most part. The books that I did read (slowly and uninterested) were books left over from grad school or ones I knew I was supposed to read and like because they were “literary.” This went on for over a year. Then one day I found Ruth Reichl’s Tender at the Bone (her first book) at the library in Wisconsin, and I spent that afternoon comfy on the couch, reading the entire book in one sitting. It had been a long time since I had read a book like that. There’s something in Reichl’s writing voice that I find very comforting. Some people may find her too passionate or perhaps over the top in her descriptions. And even though most of the food she describes is nothing I would eat, we still share a great love of food and she conveys that love so well through her writing.

Next book up: Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott

Noncommute Books: Gardens and Crafts

McGee and Stuckey's The Bountiful Container

I've been wanting to have some version of a garden for years but a) I have no expertise at all, b) I'm lucky if I can keep a plant alive, and if I do, I believe it's more because of the plant's will to live than anything else, and c) I've never had any space. Our apartment has a large fenced-in patio that is perfect for plants, so over the past few months, I've been checking out books from the library about container gardening. The majority of them either have beautiful photographs but very little helpful content or overcomplicated content that is not helpful for a novice like me. I finally found the perfect book for anyone who wants to grow something edible in a container. It's so good, that I plan to purchase it for my own reference. The Bountiful Container is incredibly user friendly, tells you how to get started and what works best for where you live (or how much effort you want to exert).

Denyse Schmidt Quilts

Last year I learned how to sew and later purchased a sewing machine. And while there are plenty of people who love to quilt, I had never really had much desire to do it. (That said, I do appreciate all the hard work and skill of those who have made me quilts, and I appreciate them immensely.) Quilting is tedious, exacting work, and lots of books on the market are very country-fair-ish in design.

Then I found Denyse Schmidt Quilts, which I believe to be the most fabulous modern quilt book out there. To begin with, there are projects I can actually do in the book (simple and small, but still creative and beautiful) and there are also full-blown quilts if I ever get brave enough. Schmidt has a graphics design background and uses colors and patterns in a unique way. (She also gives a good brief primer on how to work with color in her style of quilting.) I don't think this book is for someone who is completely new to sewing (while she gives good instructions, there are some smaller steps she leaves out), and I wouldn't say the projects are necessarily easy (it's still a form of quilting, and there's a lot of steps before you actually sew), but it is the first quilting book I actually love.

Book Doctor (Esther Cohen)

I have to begin with a major disclaimer. I am not a fan of books about writers writing books. That said, there are sometimes exceptions to this (such as John Irving's The World According to Garp, which was the first book I read in high school that completely wowed me because it was considered "literature" even though it was so amazingly good).

One of my first jobs was as a managing editor for a national literary magazine. Our circulation was small, but we were listed in The Writer's Market (think of it as the yellow pages for a writer aspiring to be published), and we received a good deal of submissions. The best part of the submissions (from my point of view) were the cover letters, not the ones written professionally, but the ones who were trying to "grab our interest." It didn't help that, at the time, the example cover letter in The Writer's Market was so humorously off-target as to what magazines/journals were really looking for.

The query letters Arlette, the main character in Esther Cohen's Book Doctor, receives reminded me of the especially priceless cover letters we received. While they may seem over the top (such as the lawyer who has an idea for a book Firm: A Lawyer's Exercise Guide), she's nailed the tone and content perfectly. The letters are interspersed among the narrative, and to me they are the most entertaining and interesting part of the book.

Arlette is a book doctor, helping others write their stories, but of course she has a novel in her that she's trying to write. For me, the book wasn't visual or descriptive enough, and the characters did a lot of talking about big questions in big ways that didn't really ring true to life to me. But again, remember my disclaimer above.

There was also this really funny joke in a query letter Arlette receives. It's from a man who wants to write an Alzheimer's Joke Book:

"George Bush was upset. He hadn't been the President for a while, and he craved attention. A friend suggested he visit an old-age home in California. A guest appearance. The friend arranged for the visit. George got there and the people in the home were thrilled to see him. He shook hands all around, and listened to their praises. He felt much better very quickly, and was about to leave when he noticed an older woman in the corner, sitting all by herself. He walked over to her, intending to cheer her up. He smiled at her kindly, then said, 'Do you know who I am?' 'No,' she said, looking him in the eye. 'But if you ask at the front desk, they'll tell you."

Next book up: Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl

23 Days in July (John Wilcockson)

If you relish saying "Ivan Basso" the way that one OLN announcer does, if while barely going 15 mph on your own bike you feel like a daredevil, if you wake up early in the month of July to see the 7 am broadcast of the Tour, then 23 Days in July is for you. I think this would also be a good book for Tour novices who want to learn what this race is all about.

When I was growing up I remember my dad was a big bike enthusiast. He once road the Ragbrai, which is a week-long ride across Iowa. I also remember he had some big heavy rollers in the basement he used in the winter to ride on (looking back, those seem way more dangerous than today's bike trainers). Myself, I grew up with a banana seat pink Huffy but apparently gave up trying to learn (I still blame this somewhat on being the 4th of 4 children. I also think there must have been a winter in there somewhere where everyone forgot I didn't know how to ride). But I did finally learn how at age 25 (in the Jewish Community Center parking lot across the street from my apartment. Jim taught me. It took about a half an hour). Now I ride everywhere I can.

Wilcockson thinks we all have a little bit of that bike craze in us, and this is one of the reasons Lance is so popular. Most of us know how to ride a bike and while coasting down a hill we can all feel, even if just for a moment, a little taste of what he must feel on his bike. The book chronicles the 2004 Tour de France, with each chapter giving a snapshot of each day of racing. There is more about the Tour's history and other riders (including Jan Ullrich, Ivan Basso, Tyler Hamilton) and less about Lance than I was expecting, but that wasn't a bad thing. And all that added information helped fill out the chapters, especially on the sprint days because, really, sprints aren't that exciting until the final end, and even then, those who are contending to win the Tour aren't usually involved. They're tucked away someplace safe in the pack surrounded by their teammates.


Other good books: Faithful: Two Diehard Boston Red Sox Fans Chronicle the Historic 2004 Season by Stewart O'Nan and Stephen King. O'Nan and King didn't know the 2004 season was going to be historic when they set out to write about it--they just really love baseball. I thought this was an enjoyable read, especially if you're a baseball fan (Well, I guess I can't really picture a non-baseball fan reading a book completely about baseball). There's a lot of great behind-the-scenes information and action in this, including when O'Nan came to be called "Net guy" by the Fenway crowd.

Next book up: Book Doctor by Esther Cohen

What Should I Do With My Life (Po Bronson)

When I originally picked up What Should I Do With My Life? I thought it was going to be full of success stories, you know, all those people out there who managed to make it. I thought it would be ultra-inspirational about the hard-won path to ultimate success and happiness. That's not what it is. And I think it's a more successful book because of that. Instead it's about people trying to answer that question. Some who find it easily, others who are still searching, and some who have answers presented to them many times but for various reasons choose to ignore them.

He uses the analogy of the box of assorted chocolates to discuss a particular group of people searching for their ultimate meaning in life. "Frustrated by their inability to see inside the dark chocolate coatings, they hang out around the box, watch other people's faces as they bite into the choices--'What did you get? Is it good? Is there another in the box just like it?'" He refers to these people as trying to "X-ray the chocolates," and he states (aware he may lose these particular people as readers), "I am not trying to X-ray the chocolates. I AM NOT GOING TO X-RAY THE CHOCOLATES."

Bronson wanted to interview a diverse group of people for this project. Friends of friends of friends passed along word of his project (via word of mouth and e-mail), and he met people all over the world who wanted to tell their stories. He became more than a journalist, had deep conversations with people, gave them advice, became their friends. He becomes so involved that he tells his own story as well.

He presents these people as the real people they are, and I came away from this book with a huge sense of empathy. He says the process of writing this book make him a better person. I think reading this book will not only make you more introspective on your own life, but will also help you relate even more to those around you.

Other good books: Very new-agey, a lot of fun if you embrace it, is The Artist's Way, a book that guides you to opening your life to your own creativity. There are daily and weekly "exercises" that help you discover your own creative self. I originally got this book when I was in college, and every once in a while I pull it out again and go through the program.

Next book up: 23 Days in July by John Wilcockson

Hidden Kitchens (Nikki Silva & Davia Nelson)

I’ll admit I’ve made plenty of fun at the George Foreman grill, especially when the assortment of colors became a major selling point. But after reading Hidden Kitchens, by Nikki Silva and Davia Nelson (a.k.a. The Kitchen Sisters), I discovered how important the George Foreman grill is to the homeless and those who have lower incomes. In one of those governmental paradoxes, low-income persons who are granted SROs (which are single occupancy rooms) don’t have access to kitchens and aren’t allowed to cook in their rooms, which means they have to eat out all the time (leading to less money saved and less healthy affordable food choices). To get around this, people in those situations have embraced the George Foreman grill. It can be stored easily, leaves no mess, and can make a hot, simple meal in a small amount of time.

Hidden Kitchens is a segment on NPR’s Morning Edition that travels the country (their locations are based mainly on voice mail messages left by listeners sharing their local hidden kitchen) searching for such varied kitchens as church fundraisers, streetcorner food carts that only operate at night, NASCAR kitchens, and the original chili queens of San Antonio. They’ve collected many of their stories, along with recipes and listener recipes, in a handsome hardcover published by Rodale. I’d almost put this book into the coffeetable category as the text is sparse on each page and there’s lots of photographs.

I liked this book, I didn’t love it (I’m afraid I’ve been spoiled by Calvin Trillin), but I thought it was well-produced and would be a good introduction to thinking about food more than just sustenance. I especially enjoyed the chapters on the urban forager Angelo Garro. Originally from Sicily, now living in San Francisco, he takes friends on wild fennel hunts (wild fennel grows all over coastal California) leading them around parking lots and under freeway overpasses. (Now I finally know what the plant is that smells like licorice on the bike path and by PacBell stadium). I was moved by the chapter about Georgia Gilmore, a lady who worked with Martin Luther King Jr in the civil rights movement, only the way she helped was by feeding everyone she could (including MLK Jr).

I appreciated that when the Kitchen Sisters asked for listener stories for their hidden kitchen quest, they requested no grandmother stories (not because they were mean spirited, but because they were afraid their staff wasn’t large enough to handle the amount of stories that would come in if they were allowed). Even then, people still called in with stories about their grandmothers. My grandmothers weren’t big cooks, but I’m lucky enough to have Jim’s grandmother who makes him cookies for his birthday and tells him he has to share with me (I consider myself very lucky indeed).

Next book up: What Should I Do With My Life? by Po Bronson

[Note: I feel the need to point out that this is not a self-help book (as the title implies) but rather an exploration of that big question and those who have tried to answer it. I’m adding this note because I feel very strange carrying around a book with that title and reading it on the train (though less weird than I would reading 23 Days in July (the book I'll be reading after this) about Lance Armstrong while riding in the bike car on the Caltrain. That's going too far.]