The best part of any hero saga is the origin story. Morris began his
three-volume examination of the action-packed life of our 26th
president with the biographical masterpiece The Rise of Theodore
Roosevelt. The second volume, Theodore Rex, covered TR's
presidency, and, despite all that occurred during those eight years,
the story wasn't as interesting. But now Morris completes the saga
with his chronicles of Roosevelt from 1909 – 1919, years in which TR
tried to give himself a series of second origin stories. Filled with
the same detail and vividness of the earlier books, we see
Roosevelt's attempts to reinvent himself. It wasn't easy for him to
go from being the most famous man in the world to just a private
citizen—so he didn't. As a politician, TR made another run for the
presidency, this time leading the Progressive (or “Bull Moose”)
Party, which espoused women's suffrage and continued TR's life-long
fight against corrupt political bosses and the worst exploitations
of capitalists. As an explorer, TR nearly died during an expedition
down Brazil's River of Doubt, an Amazonian tributary that Roosevelt,
when he first heard of it, immediately declared his intention to be
the fist man to explore. Despite his Nobel Peace Prize for ending
the Russian-Japanese conflict of 1905, Roosevelt was always chomping
at the bit for a good war. When World War I began, he wrote to the
Secretary of War asking “to raise a Division of Infantry, with a
divisional brigade of cavalry” to fight in Europe. The rejection
stung. As a man who had once given a political speech of 90
minutes, all the while bleeding from a shot by a would-be assassin,
Roosevelt never gave up living, nor being part of, what for him was
the highest possible goal: “the strenuous life.”
In 1961 President Dwight D. Eisenhower turned over the White House
to John F. Kennedy and retired to his farm in Gettysburg. This book,
by his grandson, covers “Ike's” last eight years, and, as might be
expected from World War II's Supreme Allied Commander, he did not
spend them in a rocking chair on his porch. What may surprise the
reader is how frequently he was consulted by every administration
that followed his. Ike died soon after fellow Republican Nixon took
office, but the two were close, and General Eisenhower (the title he
preferred to President) was consulted throughout the election. But
it was the two Democratic presidents who preceded Nixon, Kennedy and
Johnson, with whom Ike worked most closely—despite the fact that he
disagreed with some of their policies. He had refused to put U.S.
troops in Vietnam a decade earlier and disliked the Space Race
mentality, dismissing putting a man on the moon as an expensive
“stunt.” Though a solider, Ike was a confirmed “middle of the
roader.” He warned against using atomic weapons in Vietnam, and,
during the riot-filled summer of 1967, the White House tapped Ike's
experiences with crowd suppression in Georgia almost fifty years
earlier. Although he suggested declaring martial law in Detroit, Ike
also consistently counseled the Johnson administration not to overreact to street violence. For all his dynamism, this book paints
a supremely human, not superhuman, portrait of the man. He loved to
watch TV, and he and wife Mamie argued over which shows to watch
when he commandeered the remote. Since the author was usually away
at school during these years, he is absent from the scene much more
than the subtitle suggests. Nonetheless, we get the flavor of their
relationship with excerpts from letters like the one that Ike wrote
to his grandson marked “Personal-Confidential-Top Secret-Eyes Only”
warning the younger Eisenhower to pick his companions “with greater
care” when news reached Ike that David had mono, the “kissing
disease.”
Comedian Martin has proven himself quite skilled at drama as well,
and, with this short novel, he continues to demonstrate his ability
to create characters that, even if they aren’t exactly sympathetic,
remain nonetheless fascinating. In a sort of postmodern
Breakfast at Tiffany's, Martin uses the voice of Daniel Chester
French Franks, a young freelance writer, to tell the story of Lacey
Yeager, as she works her way up from the bottom of the art world,
partly through drive and the slow accumulation of knowledge, and
partly by sleeping with a few well-chosen men. Lacey comes in and
out of Daniel’s life, and Martin brings his own lifetime of interest
in, and a wealth of person knowledge of, art to this novel set the
in and around the New York gallery scene of the 1990s. The writing
is not comic, but wry (Martin likens art collectors' emotions
running from covetousness to buyer's remorse like “the extremes of
nervousness associated with first dates and executions.”). Through
Lacey, we tour actual museums and art spots around the world,
complete with running commentary. Real artists and critics mix with
the imaginary. The characters discuss Picasso and Andy Warhol, and
we live the kaleidoscope of those heady New York days when you might
see an installation at a gallery comprised of a fake art show
complete with its own fake gallery-goers. But this novel is more
than a historical travelogue. There are mysteries. Lacey has some
somehow acquired a great deal of money—probably illicitly and with
the assistance of Daniel. And in the storage room of the gallery
where she works there just might be a stolen painting. With cameo
appearances by a multitude of classical and contemporary
masterpieces, you'll be on the Internet checking out the images from
the first chapter.
Steven Hunter’s brilliantly realized action tale Dead Zero
reimagines the old catch phrase, Set a thief to catch a thief.
In this case it’s set a sniper to catch a sniper and it will
come as no surprise to Hunter aficionados that the sniper doing the
catching is none other than Bob Lee Swagger.
Old Bob the Nailer just wants to enjoy his horses, guns and family
on his Idaho ranch until old pal Nick Memphis from the FBI comes
calling with a desperate request that Swagger head out on the trail
of his modern-day counterpart Ray Cruz, aka “the Cruise Missile.”
And Bob can no more hang up his laser sights than a gunfighter can
hang up his Colt.
Indeed, at sixty-four Swagger’s body is much the worse for wear but
his mind and trigger finger are as sharp as ever. And he takes to
Ray Cruz’s trail like a right-wing reinvention of Sherlock Holmes.
Cruz managed to survive the same kind of betrayal in Afghanistan
that has nearly felled Swagger on numerous occasions. Now he’s
apparently hot in pursuit of the newly converted friendly target he
was precluded from killing in the first place.
Even though you know Dead Zero isn’t going to go where you
think, where it ends up is impossible to foresee for even the most
rabid Hunter fans, of which there are plenty and with good reason.
He is the master of the modern gunfighter tale. Not just the best
action writer of this generation but the best of any.
This mystery novel is a celebration of two things: the life and
cleverness of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and those who are devotes of
his most famous creation, Sherlock Holmes. Told in alternate
chapters, we encounter two mysteries. The first, based on reality,
takes place in 1900. Conan Doyle, who is still accosted by strangers
for disposing of Holmes a few years earlier, receives a package
bomb, apparently retribution from an unbalanced reader for the Great
Detective's “murder.” But it also contains a newspaper clipping
about an unidentified young bride found drowned in the bathroom of
ramshackle hotel. Accompanied by his friend Bram Stoker (of
Dracula fame), Conan Doyle begins his own investigation. With
Stoker as a very reluctant Watson, the two make their way from manor
houses to seaside tattoo parlors. Meanwhile, in 2010, Harold White,
newest member of the Baker Street Irregulars, the scholarly body
devoted to the study of Holmes, is caught up in the murder of a
fellow member. The dead man had claimed to have unearthed the
missing volume of Conan Doyle’s journals: the volume that covers
the period of drowned bride investigation. Now he’s been murdered
and the book taken. Harold—confident as only an Irregular can be
that he knows better than the police—sets out to solve the crimes.
Both men struggle against the reality and perceptions of death, with
Conan Doyle, who has recently lost his father and wife, angered by
people who are angry at him for “killing” Holmes, and Harold
realizing that deaths are not mere plot points in a story. Here, the
dead body has left behind a grieving sister. Moore displays a real
ability to get into his characters' minds and, through them, to
provide enough information so that those who are both devotees of
the Canon and those with only a passing knowledge will thoroughly
enjoy the mysteries.
Trolls in the Hamptons
is the first book of an urban fantasy series about Willow Tate, a
graphic novelist who starts seeing a troll in real life that she has
just drawn on her sketchpad—and no one sees him but her. Willy
thinks she might be going a little crazy, but soon meets Grant, an
agent of the Department of Unexplained Events, and learns what is
really going on around her and her connection to it.
The
early chapters have a lot of exposition that isn’t very smoothly
integrated into the narrative, and the book, like its lead
character, teeters between being likable and being annoying. Willy
is a complainer . . . about her boyfriend, her family, her
neighbors, the rich, the country. It’s supposed to be of the “I can
relate to that, isn’t she funny” sort, but it often veers off into
“What a whiner” territory. Willy also tends to swing between moods
depending on what the plot needs; she’s a skeptic, she believes, she
loves Grant, she hates Grant.
The
same problem affects other elements of the story; after setting up
how important it is that Willy be under constant guard, a flimsy
reason is given for all the agents to leave her alone . . . and of
course something happens in their absence. Trolls’
by-the-numbers approach—snarky heroine, hunky guy, hot sex, a bit of
magic and monsters—didn’t quite jell in this debut. Perhaps the
second book will not be so muddled.
Peter James’s wonderfully stylish mind game of a thriller, Dead
Like You, is the kind of book Alfred Hitchcock would have
adapted and Christopher Nolan should. This shape-shifting genius of
a tale is a structural masterpiece of misdirection.
Start with world-weary British Detective Superintendent Roy Grace
who hasn’t been the same since tragedy derailed his life and
ambition. That tragedy may or may not have had something to do with
his pursuit of a serial rapist known as the Shoe Man. Now fifteen
years later a similar series of sexual assaults make Grace conclude
the Shoe Man has returned with a vengeance, certain to kill his
sixth victim now just as he did back then. With the clock ticking,
Grace finds own misplaced sense of redemption in the morally
ambiguous pursuit of a foe who is his polar opposite, the Joker to
his Batman.
It would be easy to compare Dead Like You to PBS’s brilliant
Prime Suspect series featuring Helen Mirren as Jane Tennison
or even to Roderick Thorpe’s seminal classic The Detective
(made into one of the best cop movies ever with Frank Sinatra in the
title role). But Peter James need follow in no one’s footsteps
since plenty in the crime genre will be seeking to follow in his.
Ruby Oliver’s many fans will not be disappointed by the latest
installment in this fun, quirky series. Once again,
vintage-wearing, list-making, panic attack-prone Ruby finds herself
navigating a complicated web of relationships, both platonic and
romantic. Just when she thought she had finally found a real live
boyfriend in Noel, he has suddenly stopped returning her calls. Her
former best friend Nora is still angry with her for dating Noel when
Nora had a crush on him. Her father is falling into a depression
after the death of his mother. And to complicate matters, Nora’s
handsome older brother Gideon suddenly seems to be showing an
interest in Ruby. Ruby handles all of her relationships, if not
with grace, then certainly with humor. Teen girls looking for a
smart, funny heroine coming into her own will be delighted with the
Ruby Oliver series, and this apparently final book brings the series
to a satisfying close.
My Reading Log by Jeff Ayers, Associate Editor
I
will admit to being a pop culture junkie, so when I discovered Doug
Bratton’s collection of his web comic,
Deranged Stalker’s Book of Pop Culture Shock Therapy
(Andrews McMeel, $14.99), I was intrigued. I can take or leave the
format of the book, which appears as a diary from a deranged
person. But the comics are hysterical and I promise you will never
look at Sesame Street and other cultural icons the same way again.
And that’s a good thing.
I miss Bill Amend’s comic Foxtrot
on a daily basis, though thank goodness he still does new ones on Sundays. His collection
The Best of Foxtrot (Andrews McMeel, $39.99) is a daunting
box of two large paperback books. Inside is comedy gold. With
insight from Amend throughout, this book is essential for any fan or
someone interested in discovering why this strip is a classic.
I admit I was a bit dubious
when I heard about
The Vault of Walt by Jim Korkis. (Ayefour Publishing,
$19.95). It claims to be Disney stories never told. Being a
Disneyholic, I was stunned to learn a ton of new information about
Walt himself, the films, and the parks. Korkis wrote history
articles under the name Wade Sampson and is an established Disney
historian. The articles are refreshing and fascinating. Buy this
for the Disney fan in your life.
Another Disney history
looks just at the beginning of Walt’s desire to create a Disneyland
East in
Project Future by Chad Emerson. (Ayefour Publishing,
$14.95). Emerson is like the fly on the wall, taking the reader
into private conversations and dealings to showcase the steps Disney
and his team undertook to purchase all of the land necessary to
fulfill Walt’s vision. Well researched and a surprisingly
interesting read.
I’m not on Team Coco or
Team Leno, but I was fascinated by the debacle that NBC created when
Jay Leno took over 10:00 every weeknight and never gave Conan
O’Brian a chance to fully create his own version of the Tonight
Show. Bill Carter gets everyone to talk frankly about the whole
disaster in
The War for Late Night. (Viking, $26.95). It’s an amazing
look at the players in a complicated game that does an admirable job
not laying blame or creating heroes and villains. A wonderful
overview and a great example of professional journalism at its best.
My Reading Log 
