Gone with the Wind part 2 (ch. 8-16)

Follow the Great Gone with the Wind Readalong at The Heroine’s Bookshelf. Today we discuss part 2.

I continue to be very impressed. Mitchell is positively painterly in her descriptions of people and places. I love the people, and the clothing, the best. I’m not usually all that interested in clothes but the finery of Atlanta’s Civil War era society scene is awfully colorful, elaborate, and foreign to me. This second part of the book has closed in a little bit, I feel, to relatively few characters: Scarlett, Melanie, Miss Pittypat, and Rhett Butler being the features. Scarlett continues to be a character who is not likeable, exactly (I wouldn’t want to be her friend; not that she’d want to be mine!), but is fascinating and I have to say sympathetic – in the sense that I sympathize with her frustrations, even her desire for simplicity, joy, pleasure, attention. She’s human; I understand her. Melanie is less human because she’s so innocent and trusting; it almost stretches one’s credulity, although I guess Southern ladies were trained to be just that, so maybe it’s historically accurate. Miss Pittypat is definitely a caricature, but a well-formed one.

Captain Rhett Butler I find intriguing. I never did understand Scarlett’s passion for Ashley; he seems to be a pretty face and a romantic ideal, and little else. Pardon me for parroting Gerald, but they’re certainly not suited for one another. Rhett, though, should be just up Scarlett’s alley. He’s got spunk and attitude, not to mention he’s also handsome (several mentions of how BIG he is, too) and has plenty of money. Maybe they’re too much alike, with too much irreverence. Certainly he’s not ready to pay her the kind of attention, flattery, compliments, and silliness that she wants. But I find the prospect of Rhett for Scarlett to be much more exciting than the prospect of Ashley.

We’ve moved a little bit away from the slave characters, too, although we did get a brief sketch of “Uncle” Peter and his control over the household. My memory of Mammy dims, but I’m still bothered by a feeling that she (and many of the slaves depicted as loyal and content in their lot) are painted with a political perspective we no longer find appropriate.

Gone with the Wind continues to be a feat: of beautiful, evocative, fine writing and literary descriptions; of character sketches; of historical fiction with all the details; and of suspenseful drama that keeps me turning the pages. I have lots of other reading to do, so I’m putting this one down til the next readalong date (we discuss part 3 on Sept. 5), but with great difficulty! I am grateful that this readalong finally got me reading this classic. Its fine reputation is deserving.

As usual, don’t forget to stop by The Heroine’s Bookshelf for discussion of part 2, and please do join us if you can!

The Accident by Linwood Barclay

A relentlessly paced thriller in which a man has to turn detective to protect his little girl and determine the truth behind his wife’s death.

When Glen Garber’s wife, Sheila, is killed in a drunk driving accident, he’s shocked and disbelieving when he learns that she was the drunk driver. Suddenly a single father, he struggles to reconcile Sheila’s final act with what he knew of her, but things just keep getting stranger. One of Sheila’s best friends is killed in another bizarre accident right after yelling at Glen’s eight-year-old daughter, Kelly, for overhearing a phone call.

The intrigue mounts. Glen receives threats and inexplicable instructions from Sheila’s friends; someone shoots out Kelly’s window; and a sinister figure with ties to organized crime pays a visit to the Garber household. Glen’s contracting business, already in financial trouble, may be on its way to becoming another victim. The background and setting are über-current, with small-town families struggling to survive a recession, tricky sub-prime mortgages and home foreclosures. Unsure of the local police department, Glen is forced to undertake his own investigations. Is someone trying to destroy his business? What questionable sideline dealing was Sheila involved in? And who or what, exactly, killed her?

Glen, a competent builder but a decidedly amateur investigator, is most importantly a loving father. After all the dust settles, this heart-pounding thriller is surprising family-oriented. Barclay’s (Never Look Away) fast-paced, twisting plot keeps the reader guessing at who the good guys and the bad guys are. Allegiances shift. Glen isn’t sure who can be trusted; and while we stay a step ahead of him, the ending still comes with a shocking crash.


This review originally ran in the August 9, 2011 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Don Quixote by Cervantes, trans. by J.M. Cohen: The First Part

Thank goodness Cervantes gives us a “First Part” division right at the halfway mark of this big book, because I need it. I have a huge number of galleys to read for review, and the Gone with the Wind readalong going on as well. So Don Quixote is getting a break. But, I am enjoying it and will be picking it back up! So, eventually, expect a Second Part.

For a chunkster, this is surprisingly easy reading. Don Quixote and sidekick Sancho are just goofily traversing the Spanish countryside, having haphazard and silly adventures which they view in different terms. At the beginning, Sancho’s perspective is that of reality, more or less, with an ongoing desire to please his master and see things his master’s way, and Don Quixote’s perspective is entirely fantastical, based on the novels of chivalry he has read until his brain became mush. (The perils of novel-reading, children!) As they continue their adventures, though, Sancho buys into the fantasy – mostly. He retains a more cynical view that his master, who is completely off his rocker where errantry is concerned.

I was definitely intimidated by its bulk, but these 900+ pages of story are split into little episodes only 2-3 pages long in some cases. What I’m saying is, if you’re intimidated by the bulk of Don Quixote, don’t be! It’s remarkably easy, and entertaining, reading.

Don Quixote is a gentleman of leisure living in the countryside of La Mancha. (This is Spain in, erm, the 1600’s or 1500’s? Published in early 1600’s. I’m not too clear on the precise setting in time, 16th vs. 17th century Spain, and the niceties thereof, not being a strong point in my education to date.) He becomes so obsessed with his novels of chivalry and the knights errant and their lady loves and great deeds, etc., that his mind becomes confused. He outfits himself in a comical assortment of bits and pieces and substitute parts, thinking he is an elegant knight. He roams the countryside on his tired old horse, with a squire named Sancho on a mule, imagining that he achieves feats of gallant and courageous battle and strength, when in fact he (famously) does battle with windmills, releases dangerous criminals from the King’s custody, gets himself and Sancho beaten repeatedly, makes promises he clearly will not be able to keep, and generally makes a fool of himself.

The book, which was originally published in two volumes (thus, two parts!), follows a meandering story line; it is more a series of small adventures, the kind that might be published serially. Some of these adventures leave Don Quixote and Sancho sidelined while we meet other temporary protagonists. These are a welcome respite when Don Quixote’s ridiculous behavior becomes tiresome. I get most excited and engrossed in his adventures when there are plenty of other characters milling about; just Don Quixote and Sancho together can get a little bit repetitive. It is easy to get annoyed with Don Quixote because he is exasperating; but this is intended. He is a ridiculous character.

I am surprised at what an easy and quick read this is turning out to be, and at how often I giggled aloud. Don’t fear the chunky Classic of Literature, friends. Although setting the book aside for now, I look forward to returning to it. Part the Second to come.

One for the Money by Janet Evanovich

Perhaps you noticed how badly my last Evanovich experiment turned out. Perhaps you are shocked (as am I, rather) that I tried again. Well, for one, I was still trying to figure out what people like so much about Evanovich; I hope to be the kind of librarian who at least knows something about all the different genres and tastes. Also, I spoke with a friendly regular patron after my failed attempt with one of her little-known romance novels (above), and decided I was misguided in judging her based on that. I was advised to try again with the Stephanie Plum series, and so I picked up the very first. [For the record, yes, duh, I should have started here in the first place. I did know these were her bigtime contributions. But I guess I was trying to knock out a pure-romance-genre read – again for the sake of breadth in my reading – at the same time. Failure. Note: Always read what the author is famous for.]

For those that don’t know, Stephanie Plum is reluctantly and accidentally employed as a bounty hunter in New Jersey. This first book is her intro to the business. She’s an unlikely candidate, but she needs the money – Plum is kind of a mess, but a cute one. Her first job is to hunt down Joe Morelli, to whom she lost her virginity behind an eclair case in high school. Her feelings for him are mixed, but she barely has time to even try to work them out as the corpses mount up around her, she’s stalked by a sadistic serial rapist, and somebody else is trying to kill her.

I know, just from cover blurbs and general awareness, that Plum has a ping-pong-style love triangle with Morelli and fellow bounty hunter Ranger. This love triangle and sexual tension, as I understand it, is going strong – and still unresolved – after the recent publication of Smokin’ Seventeen, the 17th (yes, true) in her by-the-numbers Plum series. On top of these there are a number of between-the-numbers Stephanie Plum novels, so that for over 20 books, Evanovich’s fans have been eagerly awaiting resolution. Or have they? Maybe they enjoy this ongoing tension and drama, but I have read a few reviews myself indicating that her readers do desire decision. I confess, this is something that would get old for me. Indecisiveness, especially of the multiple-lovers variety, is a bit of a peeve of mine.

Another mild complaint: I’m not offended by sex or violence. I literally haven’t found my boundaries yet; I can handle whatever an author throws. But! I am offended, stylistically, by gratuitousness. And I found some of the sexual references gratuitous. Again, I’m not much of a reader of romance novels; I suspect this is a staple of the steamier of that genre that its readers expect and cherish. But the random appearance of genitalia for its own sake throws me off and yes, offends me – not because it’s sex, but because it’s random. [Seekers of “clean” books, look elsewhere.]

I was conflicted during most of my reading of this book. Stephanie Plum is feisty, hectic, and cute; she has attitude; her narrative voice is funny. Funny things happen to her: awkward moments and moments of conflicted sexual tension. There is some real humor here. But I was annoyed, too. I realize that the outlandish, unrealistic, pure silliness of these story lines are part of their appeal – Evanovich’s fans appreciate this – but I don’t think it’s for me. I’m too easily exasperated with Plum and her indecision (did I say that already?) and her clumsiness and poor decision-making. These books may not be my cup – but of course that’s a subjective judgment, and that doesn’t mean others can’t enjoy them.

I was repeatedly tempted to put this book down, but I hung in there. Just as I got annoyed by Plum (I promise you, if we were friends, I would constantly be rolling my eyes, sighing, and giving her unsolicited advice. Maybe we wouldn’t be friends very long), she’d make me giggle and I’d decide to keep going. Plus, I already quit on Evanovich once, and I was determined to see this one through.

After finishing the book, I remain ambivalent. This book did make me laugh, and it did keep me turning the pages, so Evanovich accomplished several goals: suspense and humor. But I finished with the same exasperation and frustration I’d felt for the whole book. I don’t entirely respect Plum. I’ve had my share of male-female interactions, and I don’t think people behave like this in the real world. It reads like a romance novel, not like life. I’m bothered by the scene, prevalent in romance novels, wherein a man can seduce a woman by being aggressive, rough, rude, even violent. I think this is a dangerous concept to propagate. But perhaps my overarching complaint is, this book is silly. And pointing to this as a criticism rather than a selling point is a matter of my personal taste, not of the objective value of Evanovich’s work.

As a final aside, it was cute to see how dated some of the details were. Cassette tapes, and the impressive tape deck in Morelli’s tricked-out Jeep, made me flip to the front for the publication date: 1994. Rather a fun little blast from the past. As you may have noticed, I’m not too concerned with reading series in order, but I’m glad I started at the beginning of this one. I’m willing to give Evanovich credit – sight unseen – that her characters & style develop as the series progresses. I’m happy to have started off at the beginning.

Final verdict? My options would have to be pretty slim to pick up another one of these books, but at least I now understand what Evanovich fans are looking for. She’s not to my personal taste. But I can see the appeal.

Right Ho, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse

Oh, Bertie Wooster. You are so silly and so deadpan. The dialogue is killer. The abbreviations are droll. The voice of Bertie is priceless. (I did get a voice – literally – for Bertie in my head in my first Wodehouse encounter via audio, which if anything has increased my enjoyment. Luckily the narrator was great and I now hear him in my head as I read this.) Wodehouse is a comic genius. These Jeeves-and-Wooster books are light, easy, even fluffy, but also pure gold: so easy to consume and so very pleasurable.

The story is this. Our narrator, Bertie Wooster, is a man of leisure in the London scene, light on the brains, perhaps, but blissfully unaware of it. He doesn’t have real problems, but rather those of a Shakespearean comedy plot. In my limited (two book) experience, they are the problems of confused lovers. Think A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Luckily, Bertie, and his surrounding community, are served by the genius valet Jeeves – so quintessentially useful, wise, clever, and discreet that his name has become an eponym. Jeeves solves all the problems, in the end, with aplomb, good taste, and tact. He even lets Bertie think he’s clever too – sometimes. I should also point out that Wodehouse has a genius for names. Bertie Wooster, Reginald Jeeves, and “the Bassett” are tamely named in comparison to Gussie Fink-Nottle, Tuppy Glossop, and the Market Snodsbury School. (Husband’s favorite is still Whatwhatley, or however you might spell it, from Thank You, Jeeves.)

In this book, Bertie is called to Aunt Dahlia’s country home to help out a pair of troubled lovers: cousin Angela and her fiance Tuppy. They are quickly joined by Madeline Bassett and her admirer, Bertie’s old friend Gussie, who has a debilitating fascination with newts, to the exclusion of everything else until Madeline came along. Gussy is having trouble wooing Madeline; Angela has throw Tuppy over. Bertie finagles Gussy into speaking at the Market Snodsbury grammar school in his stead. Bertie decides the answer to teetotaler Gussy’s problems is to get him drunk just before his speech. This results in a switcheroo (as my mother would say), and Angela ends up engaged to Gussy. Bertie’s machinations not seeming to do the trick, as usual, Jeeves steps in and saves the day. Right ho, Jeeves.

I love these little books and think I need to keep one on the nightstand always. They are laugh-out-loud silly job. If you can find audiobooks read by Jonathon Cecil, I recommend them as well.

Gone with the Wind part 1 (ch. 1-7)

Oh my. Am I ever glad that I have finally begun to read this book! I shouldn’t have waited so long. It IS a chunkster, and I AM busy right now. But what a book.

How did I get here?

The Great Gone with the Wind Readalong is hosted by The Heroine’s Bookshelf blog. This is what finally prompted me to read a book that’s been on my list for years. Thank you so much, Heroine.

Where am I coming from?

I feel like this is weird, but I have never read this book, never seen the movie, and had only the slightest and vaguest idea what it was about. All this, and I am a Southerner (to the extent that a Houstonian is a Southerner… that’s a different post). In my mind, this book is a little bit crossed with The Glass Menagerie. I don’t know why. I read the latter, in high school, although I do not seem to have a lasting impression of it. I think I did admire it; I remember the glass menagerie itself; I remember the suitors and my frustration with the mother. But there are some blurry lines between the one masterpiece of Southern-set fiction which I have never read, and the one I have. By the end of this readalong I certainly expect to have that cleared up!

What’s the drill?

Erin of The Heroine’s Bookshelf is hosting this readalong that involves 5 discussion dates, by which we will all have read 5 sections of the book. I am doing my best to pace myself so that the section in question is still fresh when the discussion comes along. So, we can all hop over there to join in a discussion, which I certainly will. But! I have my thoughts to share with you here, too.

What do I think so far?

This is an extraordinary work, just in the sense of evocative description, Mitchell’s ability to place me firmly in the time-and-place. At the end of the first page, I was hooked and admiring. She chooses very unique adverbs that draw my attention and let me see what she sees. The twins’ “long legs, booted to the knee and thick with saddle muscles, [were] crossed negligently.” Crossed negligently? She could have spent a paragraph trying to tell me what she has shown with that one adverb. “They were as much alike as two bolls of cotton.” Or earlier, Scarlett’s “green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor,” because “her true self was poorly concealed.” I already feel like I know a great deal about all 3 of these characters – with no dialogue – and all this on page one! I’m all the way in.

As promised (threatened?) by Erin, I was indeed tempted to just rush past this first section and keep going. I’ve decided to stick with the schedule, though, which allows me to read other books in between. Part one was delightful, and able to stand alone, at least for a bit. I got to know Scarlett, appreciated her odd and not completely likeable personality and traits. This is a good stopping point, as a chapter of her life ends; part two will clearly begin the next. I look forward to it.

Please be sure to stop by the hosted readalong discussion, too.

Othello by William Shakespeare

Wow, what a work. There’s a reason we still read, admire, study, and act this play today, what, 4 centuries after its creation. I read this, like The Taming of the Shrew, years ago, but I needed the refresher for the performance I’m going to see tonight.

What can I say about Othello? Othello is “the Moor,” a general in the Venetian army. He has happily married the beautiful Desdemona, and they have set out together to Cyprus where Othello has been posted. They are a happy and loving couple, but Shakespeare gives them a tragic fate. There are men about who do not wish them well. Iago is the main villain; he is jealous of Cassio, who Othello chooses as a second in command. He uses Rodrigo, who wanted to marry Desdemona, as a pawn. Iago tricks Othello, who believes him to be a faithful friend, into thinking that Desdemona and Cassio are lovers. He convinces Rodrigo that Desdemona will be his if he will just kill Cassio; really, Iago wants them both dead, and also encourages Othello to kill his wife. His intention is to gain himself political power. He also uses his wife, Emilia, servant to Desdemona. The handkerchief is the fateful detail: Othello gave it to Desdemona; Iago obtains it and plants it on Cassio; and it seals the innocent, saintly Desdemona’s fate. The final tragic scene ends with Othello’s murder of Desdemona, his discovery of Iago’s treachery, and his suicide.

It is classic Shakespearean tragedy, reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet in that final scene as Othello laments over his beloved wife’s body. The important difference, of course, is that there was no murder in Romeo and Juliet; Othello cannot be an entirely sympathetic character. It is especially frustrating to hear the faithful Emilia argue Desdemona’s innocence and have Othello reject it. But Iago, as I said, is the real villain; Othello is victim to his machinations.

I enjoyed this play all over again and always recommend it, as I do all of Shakespeare’s work. I’ve always been a big fan. I tend to think that I prefer the comedies, but in rereading his tragedies I find the same genius and the same ability to wrench my emotions in the desired direction. He was truly a great artist. I do have a fondness for the comedies, though; I forget, until I see or read them again, how accessible and universal the humor is. Last summer I went to A Midsummer Night’s Dream as produced by the Houston Shakespeare Festival, and marveled, once more, at how appealing, funny, and fun it is. Please! If you’re in Houston, don’t miss this annual summer event. Again, this year they’re producing Othello and The Taming of the Shrew, and it’s FREE, and you can sit on the hill with your dog and/or your picnic dinner and/or your beer, wine, whatever. Couldn’t be better. Check out the Miller Outdoor Theatre schedule for details.

The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare

I am sure I have read this play before, because I have some vague memory of it; but I don’t know when. My reread is inspired by the Houston Shakespeare Festival: I’m going to go see both this, and Othello, in the next week. Fellow Houstonians, don’t miss this event! These two plays are both showing 4-5 times, in the next 8 days or so, at Miller Outdoor Theatre. For FREE. It’s an awesome summer tradition; I’ve been attending the Shakespeare Fest every summer since I was small. Don’t think I’m going to find time to reread Othello, sadly.

So. The Taming of the Shrew is not one of Shakespeare’s most famous plays (and was rather hard to find at Half Price Books. Lots of Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, Midsummer Night’s Dream. Thus my very sweet, but visually unstimulating, little Yale Shakespeare blue cloth-bound hardback, pictured), but I think it’s a nice little romp. It’s a comedy involving two sisters: Bianca, the younger, has several suitors; she is attractive and admired. Her older sister Katherina, however, is very difficult, sharp-tongued, scolding, and generally unattractive to prospective suitors. Their father Baptista forbids any suitors to Bianca until such time as Katherina is married. I’m not entirely clear on whether it was his express intention or not, but the result of this is that Bianca’s suitors set out looking for a husband for Katherina, aka the shrew. They find a willing suitor, Petruchio, who feels that Kate’s wealth is worth the fight, and he has a plan. Thus the title: Petruchio sets out to tame the shrew, using such ugly, abusive, domineering, insane behavior that she gives up being “shrewish” and submits to his every desire, agreeing with any crazy thing he says. (The sun is the moon. An old man is a beautiful young maiden. Yes, husband, anything you say.) Petruchio weds, and tames, Kate; sundry other characters wed too. Lucentio marries Bianca, and Hortensio marries a widow (also for her money). The three new husbands make a bet on their wives, as to who can be shown to be most obedient. Petruchio’s reformed shrew wins him the bet, and she ends the play with a speech arguing that a woman should serve and obey her “lord” (husband).

There has been much controversy over this play, pretty much since it was born, regarding gender/marital roles, misogyny, feminism. I’m a bit inclined to agree with the camp that says Shakespeare was actually on the women’s side and was being instructively tongue-in-cheek, but mostly I’m willing to sit back and hear what you think; I don’t find it entirely clear what Shakespeare had in mind, from this distance. (I never did finish Fraser’s Young Shakespeare and thus have not started his Shakespeare: The Later Years. I found the writing awfully dry. If I ever finish these, or find a more palatable biography, perhaps I’ll take a stab at pretending I know what he had in mind. Until then, I am agnostic on this point.) At any rate, it’s an interesting study. Yes, Petruchio’s treatment of Kate is offensive; yes, her final speech makes me shiver. But she wasn’t a respectably independent woman early on; she was just kind of bitchy. Neither of them is sympathetic. So, it’s not as clear-cut as, Petruchio destroys Kate’s fine and virtous strong-woman spirit, or anything.

At any rate, I’m almost certain the upcoming performance will be the first time I’ve seen this play onstage, and I look forward to seeing how the Festival handles the political problems of The Taming of the Shrew. You can expect to see my write-up of the show soon.

Anybody read this play? How do you react to the chauvinism?

Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead by Barbara Comyns

Thank you so much to Simon from Stuck in a Book for this recommendation. Your future recommendations will be heeded!

Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead is an odd book, a short book, a unique book, and a very enjoyable way to spend an hour or two of your time. The setting is Warwickshire, “about seventy years ago” – published in 1954, so call it the 1880’s. We are mostly concerned with the Willoweed family. The grandmother is rather hateful and gluttonous and deaf; her son, Ebin, is cowed and unsympathetic as well. He has three children who are not in school, but who drift through the Willoweed estate trying to avoid unpleasantness. The town at large plays a role, as well as the Willoweeds’ domestic servants.

The book opens with a flood that disrupts normal life – “the maids pinned their skirts up high and splashed about in the water trying to prepare breakfast.” There are deaths, and then there are more deaths, and then it becomes clear that a plague of sorts has descended upon this sleepy town, which gives Grandmother Willoweed great pleasure. These deaths are treated less as tragedies than as facts of life, no more or less important than the deaths of the hens in the flood at the beginning of the book.

I haven’t given you much of a plot synopsis here, but that’s because the plot isn’t really the point. Things happen to the various characters, rather than them initiating action. But the unique thing about Comyns’ writing is that this book is not necessarily about Things Happening To People, as is usually the case in books. Rather, every event, large and small, and every observation, is treated with equal weight. The descriptions are brief and striking and evocative. The tone is really something different and special; I appreciate this writer’s ability to bring real interest and consideration to items and events that are mundane, or in other cases, horrifying, but in a democratic fashion.

An odd but fascinating book, short and easy to read: I started it in the airport in San Diego and was finished less than halfway into the flight home to Houston. I recommend it, and will be seeking more Comyns. Thanks Simon!

One Day I Will Write About This Place by Binyavanga Wainaina

Binyavanga Wainaina’s memoir, with details of various African backgrounds and his sensitive artist’s perspective, paints a poignant and lively picture.

Wainaina’s memoir of his life in Africa begins with his childhood in Kenya, follows him through university in South Africa, to a family reunion in Uganda, and on to his travels throughout Kenya, to land him finally in New York State as a writer and professor. His tale, however, is far from simply a recounting of one man’s life. At its heart, the book is the story of an artist, his struggles as a child to adjust to his view of the world and his discovery of writing as an outlet. His perspective as a child verges on the fantastical as he confuses colors with shapes and objects with sounds. The lyrical, imaginative writing throughout the book reflects this unusual vision. Wainaina paints pictures with words; his writing is reflective and playful and worth lingering over. Music, too, plays a role–almost as another character–as he describes his intense reactions to the music of Kenya, of Africa and of the world.

Another worthwhile aspect of this book is its intelligent and informed study of the politics of the African continent and the diversity of Kenyan perceptions. Wainaina tells of the battle between tribalism and a united Kenya, and the richness of linguistic and cultural perspectives there. Politics, however, is never the main subject; it is merely a background to his personal story. The Africa evoked is captivating and will be exotic and new to many readers.

Wainaina’s memoir is by turns funny, sad, hopeful and occasionally cynical, but always engaging. Fanciful abstractions of his environment and instructive tales of African politics combine to give us a fascinating vision of his world.


This review originally ran in the July 22, 2011 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!