Earlier this summer I looked over at my husband's nightstand and saw this.
How's that for some light summer reading?
Clearly, the top book is reading for dissertation research. The second book also. (Hey, Flower Mound folks, anybody recognize the author?) Somehow they migrated from his office to our bedroom. (Probably because he likes to lie in bed at night reading about nuclear power plant accidents. Definitely a contrast to Mary's Fancy Nancy bedtime stories.) But the bottom two books? That was Greg's recreational reading this summer--as in, by choice. For pleasure. They are books about statistics. Yes, my husband reads books about statistics for fun. FOR FUN.
I tease Greg about this. But not too much. Because when I looked over at my nightstand, there was the most boring book ever about the fall of the Ottoman Empire--and I couldn't stop reading it. Sheesh, what a pair we make, right?
Yes, I did spend most of my summer reading about war. (What is wrong with me??) And other things too. (Phew.) These are the books that found themselves on my nightstand this summer.
When summer began I was reading A Peace to End All Peace, which is more or less about World War I (the aspects that touched the Ottoman Empire anyway) and the peace process afterwards that basically screwed up the whole world and from which we still haven't recovered.
It was depressing.
So I took a break about halfway through and read Siobhan Fallon's collection of short stories about families left behind when their loved ones deploy to Iraq and Afghanistan. (The stories are perhaps slightly above average. Perhaps. But worth picking up at the library for a quick afternoon read--for the glimpse of life on an Army base.) Some of the details of military life rang painfully true--but mostly I was just grateful to be an Air Force wife. And one whose husband hasn't often deployed. (I was also impressed with myself for reading a work of fiction.)
Then I went back to reading the World War I book. It was more depressing than ever. (I should point out that this book isn't even about the gruesome details of what happened in the trenches. It's about what happened among governments and political leaders and top decision makers. All the missed opportunities and miscommunication. Like I said, depressing.)
Finally, I took another break from that book in order to read Unbroken about the remarkable life of Louis Zamperini and his incredible experiences during World War II. (I recommend it.) But you know World War I must be really bad when it feels like a relief to be reading about Japanese POW camps.
Then I went back again to finish A Peace to End All Peace. It was like a scab I couldn't stop picking. It was painful (and oh so boring) but I couldn't stop. Do you know how messed up the world was during that time? The world turned upside down. (Seriously, I cannot believe it was not the END OF THE WORLD, as in, let's-have-that-meeting-in-Missouri end of the world.) Now I know why we skip over World War I quickly and go straight to World War II. Who wants to try to understand that messy, foggy, gray time when nothing makes sense and no body chose wisely? Oh yeah, and 10 million people died. (And let's not forget the 100 million people who died of the flu at the end of the war. Seriously, right in the middle of those marathon peace negotiations, people are dropping dead right and left. How was that not the end of the world?)
It was about this time that I looked at the three books sitting beside my bed and realized I must have something wrong with me. I just spend half of my summer reading books about WAR. Who does that?! (Besides of course the people who watch the History channel all day.) This is why I stare at you blankly when you ask what I have read lately. You don't want to know. I think I have read two normal books over the past decade. (Twilight and The Help. They were both fine.) Fearful of what all my war-reading might say about me (I have no idea!!--and I think I want to keep it that way), I resisted the urge to read a book about the CIA's involvement in Afghanistan. There must be something else out there to read about besides war....
....ah, yes. Good old Malcolm Gladwell. I finally broke down and had my Malcolm Gladwell phase last winter. I read Mr. Gladwell non-stop for a month. (I think I liked the collection of essays best. But it's Outliers, darn it, that I can't stop thinking about.) Fortunately, there was still one more Gladwell book out there in the Universe that I hadn't yet read. Tipping Point. It was okay. A little quaint. But still interesting. In any case, it did the job. I stopped reading about war.
Instead I then wandered aimlessly, desperately in the land of What Should I Read? for a week or two. I almost broke down and read that book about the CIA. But then I remembered my favorite NYTimes columnist, who has been on vacation all summer and it's been killing me. I wondered if she'd written any books.
And that started the next phase of my summer. History about women. A nice contrast to the first half of the summer, if I do say so myself. I quite enjoyed reading When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present. (Aaaah...now I get the whole hullabaloo about the ERA.) And I enjoyed even more reading America's Women: 400 Years of Dolls, Drudges, Helpmates, and Heroines. This was a great read. Definitely an overview. But it was refreshing (and fun) to get the whole view--and see how everything/nothing has changed.
I love you, Gail Collins. You saved my summer. (Even though you took the whole summer off from your column. Grrr. I hope you were busy writing a book I can read next summer.)
In keeping with the whole American women's history theme, I thought I'd read Good Wives: Image and Reality in the Lives of Women in Northern New England, 1650-1750. (A Midwife's Tale, also by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, is one of my favorite books.) But I was in Texas at the time--and Good Wives was at home. So at the big Borders blow-out I picked up Founding Mothers. (Bleck. What a drag. And it wasn't the subject that was the problem. At least this book helped me realize how well-written everything else I'd read this summer was.)
Then I got sucked back in--
I read another book about war!
But I couldn't help it!
The author is from my teensy tiny alma mater of Washington College on the lovely Eastern Shore of Maryland. How could I resist?
And it turned out to be the best book I read all summer.
It's 1861: The Civil War Awakening by Adam Goodheart. Quirky, fascinating, eye-opening, inspiring, panoramic, intimate--and chillingly relevant. I have no special interest in or knowledge of the Civil War beyond what I've retained since studying for the U.S. History AP exam--but I could hardly put the book down. Looking at the stack of books I read this summer, I know you have every reason to be skeptical, as you should: but I recommend this book.
(It also solved two Missouri mysteries for me: why the state is always striped red and blue on Civil War maps and why St. Louis always acts like it's not connected to the rest of the state. Missourians looooved slavery. They were passionate about it. Which helps explain why they hated the Mormons so much--those pesky Mormon settlers were antislavery. But progressive St. Louis and, in particular, the city's German immigrants, who were antislavery and determined to fight for freedom, saved the state for the Union. So when your history teacher tells you that Missouri was "neutral" during the Civil War and you want to yawn because you're thinking beige, boring, and Switzerland, what he/she means to say is that Missouri was a bloody vortex of racial tension. Not that sounds slightly more interesting.)
These days I'm back to Gail Gollins. A book about the history of political gossip. Really, it's comforting to know things have always been a mess, don't you think? And then I really will get around to reading Good Wives. All before the official end of summer, I expect.
It's nice to be reading again. It means I'm in a good place in life.
Anyway, back to our bedside tables:
Next summer when you're looking for a good beach read, you know where NOT to come.
Sigh.
