These two books provide examples of women making a difference in a changing world. If interested in such books, check out a recent post in which I reviewed Beth Moore’s memoir, All My Knotted Up Life.
Stephanie Stuckey, Unstuck: Rebirth of an American Icon
(Dallas, TX: Matt Holt Books, 2024), 220 pages, some photos.
Stuckey’s used to dot the highways of America, especially in the Southeast. As a kid, I remember passing them as we drove to Baltimore for my father’s company annual summer picnic. And then there were the long road trips we took to St. Louis and to Atlanta, passing Stuckey’s at many of the interstate exits. Of course, we seldom stopped. Instead, we ate peanut butter or bologna sandwiches made from the cooler in the trailer my father pulled. But Stuckey’s, like Howard Johnson’s, was an icon of the road trip.
I picked up this book after following Stephanie Stuckey on Twitter, a connection I made through a pecan farmerfrom Georgia. Her post focused on her road trips as she strove to rebuilt Stuckey’s, her family business. I have to admit a bit of envy as she able to spend a lot of time traveling and, like me, enjoys the backroads.
After years of working as an attorney and a Democratic State Legislator in Georgia, Stephanie Stuckey decides to save her family’s business. Her grandfather had started Stuckey’s in the 1930s, with a $50 loan from his mother. The nation was in a depression, but “Big Daddy” went to work buying pecans from local farmers and selling them along with candies his wife made from the nut. He set up shop along the highways which ran to Florida. World War II could have been a disaster with the decline in travel and rationing of gas and sugar, but he continued. He served truckers and soldiers. When the war was over and America returned to the roads, his business grew. Toward the end of his life, he sold the company for a fortune.
Stuckey’s father, having learned from working at Stuckey’s, made his own mark on the travel scene. He started a company that established Dairy Queens along the interstates of America. He also spent a decade in congress, and Stuckey grew up in Washington, DC, traveling in the family’s station wagon back and forth to Georgia. Now in her 50s, having served as an attorney and running nonprofits, Stephanie Stuckey brought back the company which bears her family’s name.
This book is more than just the story of Stuckey attempting to resurrect her family’s business. She provides a history of the company and her family’s involvement within the business. As a Southerner, she also deals with the issues of race, acknowledging the help her grandfather received from African Americans. While Stuckey’s was a southern business, it was never segregated. Stuckey’s even appeared in the “Green Books,” which told Black travelers safe places to eat and buy gas as they traveled across the Jim Crow South.
This is a delightful read of a brave woman setting her own path in the world.
Clare Frank, Burnt: A Memoir of Fighting Fire
(Audible 2024) 11 hours and 43 minutes, narrated by the author.
I always shop the 2-for-1 sales on Audible. Generally, there is at least one book I’ve been wanting to read, and I will have to shop around for the second (free) book. That’s how I came across this book by Clare Frank. She’s the first (and so far, only) woman to serve as Chief of Cal Fire, the largest firefighting organization in the nation. Cal Fire handles large wildfires as well as providing fire protection in more urban parts of the state.
Frank followed her brother into the fire service. She was only 17! Emancipated from her parents, she left her birthday blank on her application since the minimum age was 18. After doing well in her training, they offered her a seasonal position. From there, she rose up the ranks. Starting in 1982, just as women were beginning to become firefighters, she retired without ever having served under another woman.
Her track is a little unusual. While working as a firefighter, she pieces together course work to obtain an associate degree. It takes her a longtime to finish her bachelor’s degree because of being deployed around the state. But she does. She also obtains a law degree, which becomes easier as she has infection in her feet after a fire along the Mexican border. She had to take a five-year break from firefighting because she couldn’t wear boots. When her feet recover, she resumes her career. With a law degree, she rises even higher in the ranks, leading the fight to recoup cost from utilities and others who have caused fires.
The fire along the Mexican border is interesting. It’s the first time that the fire map only half covers the fire, as it was burning on both sides of the border. The fire also requires cooperation with the border patrol. Sadly, there were deaths within the fire of those trying to illegally enter the United States.
I appreciated how Frank broke up her story. She jumps back and forth, from her last 22 months as chief of Fire Cal to her beginnings. This kept the book from being just a linear line of stories and built anticipation as she advanced through the ranks. Along the way, we learn about the tradition and the requirements of fire service. She tells of a few harrowing experiences, such a large multi-vehicle accident which killed several people and left one woman blind. This is one of the scenes she speaks of being engraved in her memory and she wonders about it being the last thing the woman saw before her world became blind.
The stress which came from the horror sometimes experienced by first responders takes a toll on the relationships among firefighters. Many of the firefighters have gone through multiple divorces. The departments are not above scandal. She recalls wearing her dress uniform too many times at funerals for fellow firefighters. The last being a pilot of an air tanker which crashed around Yosemite a few months before she retired. Running such a large organization, she acknowledges that she had never met the pilot. Others she didn’t know also bothered her, such as the 19 Granite Mountain Hotshots killed on a fire in Arizona. This was a bit personal for me as one of those firefighters was a member of my church’s youth group when I was in Utah.
While Frank mostly focuses on her work in firefighting, she also provides background to her personal life, from growing up, to her husband and dogs. This helped humanize her for in much of the book she came across as a “bad ass” who got things done. But there are things left out such as how she became interested in writing, which she speaks of perusing in retirement. Her talent with words comes through in this book.
Her story within the book ends with her and her husband retiring to Genoa, Nevada, where they experience the other side of the fire as they had to evacuate their new home. Thankfully, they didn’t lose their home, but the experience gives her the opportunity to close with a warning about how fire, as a part of nature, will continue to be a challenge.
I will first share a story from the spring of my junior year of high school, followed by a review of a new religious biography of Richard Nixon.This is my last planned post till October 6. I am on vacation and will be away some from the computer. From the looks of the weather, I picked a heck of a time to take a week off!,
John T. Hoggard High School, Spring 1974
It all came to a head in Coach Fisher’s economics class. I took my seat in the class and when he saw me, he fumed.
“You are not allowed in my class,” he yelled, staring at me.
“I’m not leaving,” I said.
“Yes, you are,” he said, pushing desks with students sitting in them out of the way to get to me.
Scared, I stayed in my seat, thinking that if he physically harmed me, which he could easily do, I’d have a class of witnesses for an ensuing lawsuit.
Standing over my desk, he ordered me out into the hallway. I had spent the past two weeks sitting in the hallway, working chess puzzles in a magazine. This started when I challenged one of his diatribes about Richard Nixon. Nixon was in the news a lot in the spring of 1974.
The day before, at the end of the class, Coach Fisher told me I would fail his class because I had missed so much of it. I told him that I better not, because he was the reason I was missing his class. The class really had nothing to do with economics. Most of the 50 minutes was spent discussing basketball and other sports. What little had to do with economics was more about consumer spending than the relationship between price and demand or an understanding of macroeconomics. Fisher was a coach, who had been given a teaching position.
I decided it was time to end my exclusion from class, so the next morning, I returned.
After a few moments of a standoff, I told Coach Fisher that if he wanted me out of the class, we could go together to Mr. Saus’ (the principal) office. His anger grew and he started to drag my chair outside.
“Fine,” I said. “I will go to the principal’s office,” I said, getting up. He ordered me to sit in the chair outside his door, but I walked down the hall and turned toward the office. I expected him to follow, but he didn’t. Mr. Saus wasn’t available, but I was sent into Mr. McLaurin’s office. He was an assistant principal. I told him my story. He listened and had me remain in his office while he disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back in, he told me to go back to class, that Mr. Fisher would let me back in.
Fisher didn’t fail me for that six-week period. I passed the class with a decent grade without having to do anything because Fisher essentially ignored me for the rest of the semester. I just sat there. I would have to wait till college to grasp economics.
Richard Nixon was president during the formative years of my life. I was in the sixth grade when he was elected president in 1968. At the time, Nixon, to me, seemed to be the best choice.
I would continue to support Nixon throughout my junior high and early high school years. Why, I’m not sure. Why did I believed him when he said he didn’t do anything wrong? This belief was strong enough to encourage me to speak up for Nixon in Coach Fisher’s class, which led to our encounter. Later, after he resigned from the Presidency the summer after the above incident, I felt embarrassed. Some of that shame remains. How could I have been so naïve?
There were two events that happened in high school which my mom always blamed on me losing all respect for authority. And they happened about the same time. The first was a wreck. A young woman (she was 21) turned in front of me from the left-hand lane on Shipyard Boulevard. I hit her in the front quarter panel and both cars were totaled. Thankfully, my mom was seated right next to me and saw it all. I was knocked out and sent in an ambulance to the hospital. The young city police officer, whom my mother witnessed flirting with the other driver after the accident, charged me with following to close. From the damage to her car, that was an impossibility. Thankfully, a neighbor who was a state highway patrolman, came to our aid and helped prove my innocence. Click here for a sermon where I share more about the wreck.
I don’t think my mother even knew about the incident in Coach Fisher’s class.
The accident in which I was wrongfully charged occurred within a year of Nixon’s resignation. Mom was right. Both probably contributed to my cynicism when dealing with authority figures. And Coach Fisher became the icing on that cake.
Daniel Silliman, One Lost Soul: Richard Nixon’s Search for Salvation
(Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2024), 317 pages including an index, bibliography and notes on sources.
One Lost Soul is a religious biography of our 37th President. Silliman begins with a brief overview of Nixon’s early life, after which he jumps from one critical injunction to another to show the role religion played in Nixon’s political career. These include Nixon’s anti-communism work as a young congressman, the run with Eisenhower as Vice President and his “Checkers Prayer,” the role of religion in the 1960 election, his holding “church” in the White House, the Vietnam War, his outreach to China, the Watergate Coverup, his resignation as President, and a bit about Nixon’s life after his presidency.
Silliman’s theme is that Nixon spent his life, from childhood, with a desire to find acceptance and love. Such desire began in his father’s grocery story but continued throughout his life. His obsession led him to work hard. He believed in the “great man” theory of history and wanted to be such a man, as seen in his reaching out to China. He had a hard time accepting God’s love or the love others. On the night before his resignation, Henry Kissinger, the Secretary of State visited with him. On Nixon’s suggestion, the two men got on their knees and prayed. Nixon cried as he asked, “What have I done?”
Kissinger shared this moment with his staff members before Nixon called him to ask that he not tell anyone that he had cried. Kissinger later asked, “Can you imagine what this man would have been had somebody loved him?”
I had always wondered about Nixon’s background as a Quaker. I still remember a Mad Magazine from the time with a cartoon-like article about religion. When they got to the section on Quakers, one panel said something like, “There are 100,000 Quakers in the United States. The next panel said that Quakers don’t believe in war. The third panel featured Nixon saying that he was a Quaker. The final panel read, “That makes 99,999.
Silliman points out that California Quakerism differed from the East Coast variety in several manners. In some ways, it was more like a Methodist tradition, with focus on working out one salvation. Nixon saw military activity as a way toward peace, so instead of seeking a consciousness objector status during World War 2, he joined the navy. Even during Vietnam, Nixon maintained hope the bombings would bring the North to the negotiation table. While this upset many Quakers, the decentralized structure of the denomination meant that any church disciplinary actions would have to be taken by his home church in California. While Nixon continued to claim to be a Quaker, he had not been active in the church since a child.
As President, Nixon created White House worship services. For these, he would import ministers to preach. Interestingly, Nixon maintain total control of the service down to the hymns. The services served a political purpose as Nixon often invited those to attend as favors. These services were Protestant, but on one occasion was led by a Jewish rabbi.
Nixon could also be impulsive. In the middle of the night during the anti-war protests, he takes his valet (and some secret service agents) to the Lincoln Memorial. There, he talks to anti-war protestors who are camping out on the steps. He asks questions of them. When they depart, he expresses his hope their opposition to the war won’t turn into hate for the country.
Silliman points out many good things Nixon did. Certainly, his work with China stands at the top. But he also refused to play the religious card against John Kennedy in the 1960 election. While it would have probably worked at the time, he didn’t feel it appropriate. He was also deeply concerned with Civil Rights, even though for political reasons, he refused to make a public statement on Martin Luther King’s arrest during the 1960 election. In 1968, he tried to play it both ways, reaching out to Strong Thurmond and other who supported segregation. This was the beginning of the Republican “southern strategy.”
While this is a sad and tragic story, I can’t help but to have hope that at least Nixon had a conscious that bothered him. I didn’t come away from this book thinking he was a psychopath. There were times he had empathy for others and instead of thinking too highly of himself, he doubted his own self-worth. In a way, it was his lack of self-worth that made him so desperate to win and to prove himself.
This is a good book not just for understanding Nixon, but also understanding the difficult many people have in accepting grace.
This biography is a part of the “Library of Religious Biography” series. I have read several others in the series including Aimee Semple McPerson: Everybody’s Sister, Billy Sunday and the Redemption of Urban America, and Harriet Beecher Stowe: A Spiritual Life.
I’m reviewing three books. One a faith memoir, another a humorous travelogue, and one a classic work that has probably influenced our society more than we can image while also being a work few can claim to have read. There’s something here for everyone
Beth Moore, All My Knotted-Up Life: A Memoir
(Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale, 2023), 295 pages plus 8 pages of color prints.
Beth Moore has been on my radar for at least twenty years. Women groups at churches I’ve served have used her Bible Study materials. Over the past eight years, I have witnessed from afar her challenges within the Southern Baptist and evangelical community as she boldly spoke out against Donald Trump after his remarks about grabbing women in private places were made public in 2016. And later, I watched from a distance as she both challenged the Southern Baptist for covering up sexual abuse of leaders within the denomination. Yet, while I have read some of her articles, I had not read any of her books until I picked up this memoir. I recommend it.
This is an honest and can imagine how painful the book was to write. In a way, it’s more of an autobiography than a memoir. She tells stories from her childhood and admits how the family tried to hold on to respectability while harboring dark secrets. The darkest was her father’s unwanted touching. She also writes about how she was drawn into church and even the pastor who affirmed her going into ministry as a teenager. Starting out leading women’s ministry classes and acrobatics, she grew a business into a major organization. Coming from a Southern Baptist background, she always stayed with women’s ministry and avoided any leadership position which would undermine pastors (whom she assumed should be male).
Moore: politics and leaving the Southern Baptist Church
Moore also avoided politics until Bill Clinton had his White House affair. This caused her to leave the Democratic Party for the Republican Party. In this manner, she followed the crowd as evangelical leaders across the county openly condemn Clinton. She expected the same response after the release of Trump’s Access Hollywood tapes. It shocked her that instead, many evangelical leaders circled the wagons around Trump.
This memoir tells the story of her coming of age, her marriage, her relationship to her parents, the building of a ministry, and how she came to the decision to leave her the Southern Baptist Church. It was a hard break as she loved the denomination who had nurtured her. The book ends with her and her husband finding a new home within an Anglican Church. While there have been many knotted-up challenges in her life, through it all she always found solace and strength in her Savior, Jesus Christ.
While there are troubling events described in this memoir, Moore’s writing is a pleasure to read. And amongst the pain, there is also laughter. The reader will meet a woman of faith and conviction.
Tony Horwitz, One for the Road: An Outback Adventure
(1987, audible 2020).
I picked up this book from an Audible Sale. Having read and enjoyed three of Horwitz’s books, I thought it would be something nice to listen and laugh while driving. Years ago, I had read Bill Bryson’s, From a Sunburnt County, and was thinking this book might further expand my knowledge of Australia, while providing humorist distractions. It didn’t take long for me to realize the book I was listening to was written long before Bryson’s.
Horwitz was a funny writer. The first book of his I read was Confederates in the Attic. I read most of that book on a cross-country flight. I kept trying, but without much success, to muffle my laughter. Everyone seated around me wanted to know what book I was reading! While this book provides many funny moments (along with a few crude jokes told my travel companions while he’s on the road), it’s not nearly as funny as his later works. As I said, I thought this book was a newer book. After listening just a bit, I found myself googling Horwitz and discovered the book was his first, published in the late 1980s. His writing became tighter over time! Sadly, I also learned that Horwitz had a massive heart attack and died in 2019. He was only 60 years old, just a little younger than me.
First journey into the Outback
In this book, Horwitz has moved to Australia, his wife’s home. It’s in the mid-1980s and they both take positions with a newspaper in Sydney. But Horwitz’s wanderlust doesn’t fade and after a year, he obtains permission from his editor to head out into the bush to see Australia. It’s 1986, and Haley’s Comet is big in the news. Obviously, the comet wasn’t any brighter in Australia than it was here in the states. But the place to see the comet was supposed to be Alice Springs, in the center of the continent. Horwitz sets off by hitch hiking (in the summer, no less). He’s later assigned an article on the conflict between natives and tourists at Ayer’s Rock (now known as Uluru). Renting a car, he drives over to the site and on this way back rolls the car. Luckily, he is bruised, but okay. He flies home, but a little later works out a deal for a month traveling and sets off again.
A month in the Outback
Hitchhiking in Australia is a bit different. Instead of using one’s thumb, the hitch hiker sticks out a finger. But it’s the same in that one must be careful. While he’s traveling there are reports of people killed by hitchhikers, which makes his attempt to get a ride even more difficult. He travels across the country to Perth and then heads along the coast to Darwin. While he has been warned to avoid the Blacks (abiogenies), he finds them hospitable. In one case, they trust him enough to hand him the keys to their junker car along with a handful of bills and have him drive into town to buy beer! In places it was against the law to sell bear to abiogenies, and at other establishments, proprietors refuse to sell to them.
It seems Horwitz’s travels focuses on drinking. In remote areas, people measure distance not by miles or kilometers, but the number of beers consumed. The amount of alcohol consumed while driving is frightening. And people also drink at home and in pubs. Darwin, at the time, had the highest beer consumption in the world, 58 gallons per person! In another town, the authorities tried to reduce drinking on Sundays by passing a law that a pub could only be open for five hours. So, the pubs came together and staggered their hours so that the day was covered. This created a weekly “pub crawl,” as folks went from one to another, every five hours.
While traveling, Horwitz encounters those who work with livestock, in mining and oil exploration, fishermen (and he even spends a day fishing for crayfish) and pearl divers. In places he finds lots of prejudice against natives and immigrants, but in other places find people working together and getting along with one another.
Passover in the Outback
One of the more interesting stories occurred in Broome, a town along the northwest coast. Horwitz, who describes himself as a secular Jew, realized Passover was coming up. Wanting to share the feast with other Jews, he asks around. No one knows of any Jews, but someone suggests he speak with the local Catholic priest. The priest points him to a Jewish government physician. Horwitz meets the physician, who invites him to his home for Passover. Later, when there is a day of remembering those who had died in wars, Horwitz attends. The priest gives the keynote speech and mentions his encounter with a wandering American Jew, which brought a smile to Horwitz. This story, told near the end of the book, allows Horwitz to reflect on his cultural background and his desire to wander.
Recommendations
I don’t think this book is up to the standard of Horwitz’s other books. In addition to Confederates in the Attic, I have also read A Long and Dangerous Journey and Spying on the South). However, I still enjoyed it and recommended it. It’s a great first book and in it one sees Horwitz’s potential to become a laugh-out-loud travel writer. The narrator for the Audible edition is one of Horwitz’s sons.
St. Augustine, City of God
(427, Penguin Books, 2003 edition), 1097 pages, Audible translation narrated by David McCallion, 46 hours and 32 minutes, 2018.
There is one reason why I am behind on my readings for 2024. I had set a goal of 48 books and am currently six books behind thanks to slogging through this classic. I’ve listened to it all and went back and reread interesting parts. Maybe I could count this as 22 books (as Augustine did) and then I’d have already exceeded my goal! I had an old copy of this book from seminary, but it was abbreviated, with just the best parts, so I had to purchase a new copy.
City of God is a classic. In it, we see Augustine’s keen knowledge of the world. He knows the myths and legends of the pagan gods, the history of the world up to his time, and is well versed in philosophy and science. He understands astronomy including how eclipses occur. While he discounts numerology as a tool for understanding scripture, he is knowledgeable on mathematics. He discusses botany and biology, including knowing of some animals who live super hot environments which he uses as support for his ideas on hell. And he has a great grasp of the history of the world and can parallel what occurred in the Bible to what was happening at the same time in Rome, Greece, or Persia.
First half of the work
The first half of this massive work defends Christianity from the charge that Rome’s fall was due to Christians abandoning the pagan gods. Augustine spends 12 books showing how the pagan gods failed to protect other cities such as Troy. Augustine shows a keen knowledge of the pagan world in his defense. In this section of the book, he also advises Christians on how to act during such a tragedy in which many had committed suicide seeing it as preferable to torture and/or rape. Augustine encouraged his readers to trust in God even in the face of torture and death.
Second half of the work
In the second half of the book, Augustine follows the development of the two cities. He links the earthly city to Cain, which is the city for reprobate. The early city is identified with Babylon and Rome. Working through the Scriptures, he makes a case for a parallel city planned by God for the faithful, the elect. In addition to showing the development of the two cities, he also parallels much of what happens in scripture to what was happening in the rest of the world during the same period.
In this half of the work, Augustine shows his keen insight into the scriptures. While he acknowledges there is no mention of Christ in Old Testament, he lays out how Hebrew Scriptures points to Christ. It is in this section he also ties Hebrew history to the history of the larger world. Augustine makes a strong case against those who think they can predict Christ’s return. His writing on this subject makes it clear that there were many who seemed to think they knew God’s mind with their elaborate schemes plotting out the end of time. Not much has changed, has it?
Conclusion of the work
The last chapters focus on the end of history. Augustine makes a case for hell but suggests life in hell would be preferable to total annihilation. He discusses the final judgment. He also writes about the heavenly City of God coming in fulness but is reluctant to make to suggestions of what it might be like beyond what’s found in Scripture.
Augustine seems to value the body and our experiences in this world. I was surprised when he addressed praying for our enemies. While he endorses such prayers, he suggests we should not pray for those spirits (demons) who have no bodies! Augustine obviously writes from a patriarchy society, I didn’t find his writing to be anti-female, as I sometimes see him interpreted.
Conclusion
While at times this book seems to slog along, there is much to discover in it. I found myself realizing how my limited knowledge of Roman culture and history made it more difficult to fully appreciate Augustine’s insights. I don’t think the 21st Century can nurture another Augustine. Could you image today someone what could discuss history, theology, religion, along with advance astronomy, physics, biology with the brightest in these fields? This work has greatly influenced Western Culture, from politics to theology. It inspired Martin Luther and John Calvin, two of the leading thinkers of the Protestant Reformation. It should be studied.
Tim Alberta, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism
(New York: Harper, 2023), 493 pages including index and notes. No photos.
Tim Alberta is a journalist and the son of a preacher. His father grew his congregation in southeast Michigan to a megachurch status. Having spent his formative years in this church, Alberta had always appreciated coming home and visiting. But during his father’s funeral, in which he spoke, he realized the church was in trouble. Many of the leaders and members disliked his reporting on the American political scene. He was attacked while at the funeral. He wondered what had happened to the people he had known and loved and who had nurtured him.
Those who attacked Alberta after his father’s funeral were the same people who questioned Bill Clinton’s suitability for the Presidency. Yet, they ignore or overlook the obvious and blatant sinfulness of Donald Trump. Alberta wonders what happened to them and the church. Both seem to have abandoned the teachings of Jesus for the political rhetoric of the nation. Alberta set out to explore American evangelical Christianity. Much of what he found was troubling.
In this book, Alberta visits numerous churches, along with colleges and conferences, around the country. He starts with Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia. When possible, he speaks to the pastors and leaders of movements along with those involved or formerly involved. He attends churches who messages are mostly political, who flaunt COVID guidelines, glorify guns, and speak of owning the libs. He questions what happened to Jesus’ teachings about loving one’s enemies.
Alberta also visits with those who found themselves pushed out of churches because of their loyalty to Christ alone. These include Russell Moore, who had been one of the leaders of the Southern Baptist Convention, along with the new pastor at his father’s former church. He discusses the “hidden” evangelical issues around sexual abuse, introducing his readers to Beth Moore and Rachel Denhollander. He even looked at how other countries are drawn toward totalitarian dictators, drawing on the work of Miroslav Volf and Cyril Hovorun. Maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that the church is under attack, not just in America, but around the world.
Alberta doesn’t provide easy answers for how the church can stop being enamored with political idols. Perhaps this is best. The church, as he points out, isn’t in our hands. We belong to Christ’s church, and he controls it, not us. The only hope found in this book was in Alberta’s description of a few churches, such as the one his father had served, which had once been a megachurch. After losing significant members to other churches on the political right, they have found a stronger and more vibrant ministry even with fewer people.
I would make one minor correction. Alberta speaks of the Evangelical Presbyterian Church being further to the right, theologically and otherwise, to the Presbyterian Church in America (page 438). I disagree. The PCA doesn’t even have an option for women leadership, compared to the EPC which does allow women to be in ordinated positions.
This is a long book, but I recommend it for understanding how today’s church is caught up in the political sphere. It may be considered a companion to Katherine Stewart’s The Power Worshippers: Inside the Dangerous Rise of Religious Nationalism. May we remember that the church doesn’t exist to serve political causes. We serve Christ, who is the King of King.
(Harper Horizon, 2024), 367 pages plus an insert of color photos.
Having recently turned 60 years old, Tim Kaine, a Senator from Virginia, who ran as the Vice-Presidential candidate with Hillary Clinton in 2016, set out to explore his adopted Virginia from the ground. 2019 also marked his 25th year in public service. He had served as the mayor of Richmond, as lieutenant governor and governor of the state, as well as a United States Senator. His goal was to hike the Appalachian Trail in the state, ride a bicycle along the state’s portion of the Blue Ridge Parkway along with the Skyland Drive, and paddle a canoe the length of the James River, which runs across the middle of the state.
Walking
While the Senate was in recess in 2019, Kaine spent his free time hiking the 559 miles of the Appalachian Trail in the state. Beginning in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, he heads south to the North Carolina border, just south of Damascus, Virginia. A quarter of the “AT” is in Virginia, a state which has more miles than any other. Having hiked this trail from the other direction, I found myself reliving my own experiences. Many of the shelters were familiar as were places like Woods Hole Hostel, which I stayed at before it was even open. The owners who had purchased the farm shared with me their dream of having a hostel along the trail. Like him, I also had some less than fond memories such as the thick growth of poison ivy along the trail south of I-77.
I also realized the differences between his hike in 2019 and my hikes in the mid-1980s. There are far more people hiking the trail these days and more hostels. Furthermore, there is a whole network of people willing to pick up hikers. When I hiked the trail, if you needed to get somewhere, you hitchhiked.
Kaine hikes the trail with a variety of people. There are friends from Richmond, classmates, along with his wife and kids, who join him for sections of the trail. As he walked south, we learn about Kaine’s life and his great love for the outdoors. Kaine is from Kansas City and fell in love with camping as a child in the Midwest. He jokes that while he never edited the Harvard Law Review as a student, he set the record for the most nights outdoors.
While at Harvard, he met his wife, Anne. Interestingly, she spent part of her years growing up in the Governor’s mansion. Her father was the first Republican governor of Virginia since Reconstruction. He was also the governor who stopped Virginia’s fight against school integration, a decision which ended his political career. With family roots in Roanoke, Anne shared her love of the Virginia Mountains with Kaine.
Throughout the book, the reader catches a glimpse of Kaine’s faith. He often sings hymns, recalls portion of scripture, and has an abiding faith in Jesus Christ. In addition, the book allows him to share what is happening politically in the nation, as the times he must run back to D.C., to take care of business.
As I have always said, backpacking is a great equalizer of people. It doesn’t matter how much money is in the bank when you are hiking. There’s no place to spend it. The reader learns how Kaine, as a senator, had to struggle to find water or to stay dry, issues all hikers endure.
Bicycling
The second portion of Kaine’s odyssey involves riding the Blue Ridge Parkway and Skyland Drive on a bicycle. Here, in 2020, he joins several of his college and law school classmates for the ride. A few years earlier, another of the group had hosted them for a ride across Iowa. The group hires a guide who drives a van with a trailer. And they stay in hotels and lodges along with the way, with their guide setting up their lunch at overlooks on the road. They enjoy good breakfasts (as opposed to the oatmeal along the AT) and nice dinners. This is the quickest section of the three-prong journey and is completed in seven days.
2020 is also the first year with COVID. Kaine spends much time discussing the problems with the disease (he and his wife both suffer from it and later, he finds himself dealing with long-COVID). In addition, he discusses the problems in the nation with the rioting after the unprovoked killings of African Americans.
Paddling
In 2021, after the turmoil of the election and the attack on the capitol, Kaine sets out on his last leg, paddling the length of the James, from the edge of the mountains to where it flows into the Chesapeake Bay. Like his AT hike, this is portion of the trail is done in sections. Kaine mostly camps in state parks along the river, or stays in hotels and B&Bs, while paddling a section each day. His canoe is an Old Town, which his in-laws hand given him and his wife shortly after they married.
As he travels, the reader learns the history of the river and about Kaine’s work as governor with many river projects that enhanced the waterway. The upper parts including portaging around dams and running rapids. Drawing on Earl Swift’s, Journey on the James, which describes his paddle in the 1990s, we see how the river has both been cleaned over the past quarter century. Cities and towns have transformed the river from an industrial wasteland to a pleasant park and riverwalks. The most difficult rapids are at the fall line in Richmond. This section, Kaine runs in a raft. After Richmond, the river widens. Kaine continued paddling the Old Town open canoe until the last day, when he transferred to a sit-on-top sea kayak which he and his son paddled to the end of the river at Fort Monroe.
Along the way, Kaine informs his readers about Native Americans in Virginia, as well as the role African Americans played in the state. The river’s dark history includes bringing many enslaved Africans up its waters to be sold into slavery. Kaine trip ends in the waters of Civil War battles and the site of the United States’ largest naval base.
Recommendation
I really enjoyed this book. As a Vice-Presidential candidate, Kaine seemed to me to lack pep. Reading this, I understand he’s probably more of an introvert. Yet, he gets things done. I wish this book had been available earlier, as I am now impressed with him and his grasp of the state which he serves. I would recommend this to Virginians and to those interested in the outdoors or the more personal side of politicians.
Aaron Bobrow-Strain, White Bread: A Social History of the Store-Brought Loaf(Boston: Beacon Press, 2012), 252 pages include an index and extensive notes.
A story from my bakery days
In a supervisor meeting sometime in 1979 or 1980, Jerry Hendrix, the General Manager of Fox Holsum Bakery, berated us for not being able to produce uniformed loaf bread. “I don’t care if it’s crap,” he said. “It needs to be consistent. If it’s consistent, I can sell it.”
It was a tough time for bakeries. To start with, our government sold an excessive amount of wheat to Russia, who were dealing with poor harvests. The price of flour had doubled, cutting deeply into our profit margins. Furthermore, the price of sugar had gone up as had the cost and availability of natural gas. We were being squeezed from all directions. And now, our number one product, a pound and a half loaf of white bread was becoming unmanageable. Most of us felt that the problem came from the yeast. A few months earlier, we have left behind Fleishmann’s Yeast” for a new company’s product, “Dixie Yeast.” At first, things ran fine. The yeast still worked fine on our variety bread and on the roll line, which used traditional mixing equipment with chilled jackets.
The white bread line was different. This bread was mixed in a do-maker. This machine that mixed the ingredients at a very high rate of speed and a high temperature. The fermentation was first done in large vats that consisted of water, sugar, yeast, and other dough conditioners. Flour, along with shortening and sugar (corn syrup) were added straight into the mixer, along with the brew from the vats. The bread was cut into a piece of dough and dropped into a pan. Such rough treatment of the dough required not only chemical treatment, but also demanded ingredients to be constant. We produced 4200 loaves an hour of this bread. But each vat of bread rose differently. Sometimes the bread was too large, making it hard to slice and bag. Other times, the loaf was too small, and looked sick.
The General Manager and the company’s owners didn’t want to hear our excuses about the yeast. Sometime around this point, we learned the owners of the bakery had, with other industrial bakers, invested in the yeast company. A host of specialists were brought in. They tried new kinds of chemical dough conditioners, but nothing works. The decision was made to go back to Fleishmann’s yeast. Things returned to normal. After a lot of checking, we learned that the yeast was being mixed in fiberglass tanks instead of stainless steel. The fiberglass tanks were harder to clean (but they were cheaper). Eventually they had to change out their production tanks. A few months later, we went back to Dixie yeast, and it worked fine.
My review of White Bread
I tell the above story to illustrates a lot of what Aaron Bobrow-Strain writes about in his social history of white bread. Bleached, chemically enhanced bread has always been suspect. But by the 1950s, Americans ate an average of eight slices a day of the stuff. By the late 70s, when I worked in an industrial bakery, the decline of such bread was on the horizon. In another production meeting, at a time of high inflation, we heard warnings that if a loaf of bread rose to cost more than a dollar, it would doom our industry. People, we were told, would never pay so much for bread. I often think of this when I spend four dollars on a loaf today.
While bread might seem to be an odd research topic for a social history, but Bobrow-Strain provides an interesting insight into the rise of the loaf, and its decline. He also provides insight into other issues going on in America (and to lesser extent Europe and the rest of the world) during the rise of industrial baking. In 1890, 90% of the bread consumed in the United States was baked in a home kitchen. By 1930, during the depression, this completely reversed. 90% of the bread was baked in industrial factories.
The rise of factory produced bread is a compelling story that often reflects American prejudices and biases. Prior to the rise of industrial baking, most of the commercially available bread were baked in basement shops in cities like New York City. Here, in these bakeries, immigrants lived and worked in less than sanitary conditions. The first industrial bakeries jumped on American nativism feelings to promote their product as wholesome and clean. In addition, as technology changed, they were able to purchase ingredients much cheaper than the small local bakeries or even housewives. With the increase of transportation options, industrial bakers were in the position to seize the bread markets.
White bread ruled the day, but there were some who questioned this including blaming the fall of France to Germany in 1940 on white bread. French bread is white (but not necessarily industrially produced), while the Germans preferred a darker bread. Later, in the Cold War, American’s felt their “white bread” was superior to Russian dark loaves.
Advertising encouraged consumers to equate the softness of the new industrial bread with freshness, overlooking the use of chemicals to condition the dough. Interestingly, at the dawn of America’s entry into World War II, a significant number of American men did not meet the physical demands for military service. Processing of the flour to produce the whitest loaves robbed the wheat of essential vitamins. But such enrichments could be added back chemically. The first national food order during the war required such enrichments. By the end of the war, no one wanted anything less that “enriched” bread.
Throughout the fifties’, people considered enriched bread a superfood. It even caught on in places like Japan. When I visited Japan in 1979, it was shocking to see on the shelves white bread void of crust! By the 60’s, the hippie counter cultural laid groundwork for a rediscovery of bread baked at home or in small shops. Newspapers ran recipes about home baking and cookbooks sprang up included the Tassajara Bread Book. I discovered this book while working at the bakery and used (and still use) the recipes in the book to make heartier loaves of bread.
Bakers began to respond by adding more bran and even adding cellulous (wood pulp) to increase the fiber within bread. One of our variety breads was “VIM” in which we added a couple 50 pounds of bags of cellulous to each mixer. I recall it making the dough sticky and almost as hard to machine as rye bread. Another trick was to add sourdough flavoring to the mix to make the bread taste a little more like sourdough bread, which required a two-step mixing process and allowing the “starter” to proof, which took up space and equipment.
Bobrow-Strain ends his story with how white bread, once seen as food for the wealthy and royalty, became equated with “white-trash” and even soul food. Unlike the 70s, today’s bread aisles in supermarkets carry a variety of bread. We now eat bread with more grains or whole wheat that the industrial white bread which I made during my baking years.
Toward the end of the book, Bobrow-Stain takes us inside Grupo Bimbo, the largest baking company in the world today. Oddly enough, it is a Mexican company who has taken over many of American top bakery labels. I still remember the first time I saw “Bimbo Bread,” which was in Honduras in 2004. Why would anyone use such a label for product, I wondered. Of course, I thought of the word in its negative American slang connotation. In Latin America, Bimbo is the name of a bear mascot.
Conclusion
While I enjoyed this book, I know it appealed to me because of my background in a wholesale bakery. But there is much to learn here, so I recommend it to others. Bobrow-Strain even moves outside of bread to discuss our attempts to “eat healthier” and how Americans (since Sylvester Graham in the early 19th Century) have followed food gurus who promised great things but often failed to deliver. The book is worthwhile for this, alone, in a day in which we seem more susceptible to all kinds of claims that may have little scientific backing. The author also has a love of baking and eating good loaves of bread, so he’s writing about something for which he cares.
With the construction of an addition on my home wrapping up, I haven’t had much time to read. But I’m looking forward to reading a lot of books on the back deck or (if raining) the front porch. Two of these books came back with me from Calvin’s Festival of Faith and Writing this year. Both memoirs are written by poets. Their use of language is enchanting. The other two are books previously read and I listened to them while walking or driving.
Tracy K. Smith, To Free the Captives: A Plea for the American Soul
(Borzoi Book/Alfred Knopf, 2023), 265 pages with a few family photographs.
Drawing on her family history, Tracy Smith encourages her readers to foster community and to help create a better America. As an African American, she is a descendant of slaves. Her own father was an accomplished and high-ranking Non-Commissioned Officer in the American Air Force. He even worked on space projects afterwards. Yet even he suffered because of his skin pigment. So did her uncles and grandfathers who served in a segregated military during both World Wars. Her mother encouraged her as she sought to help her family thrive even despite challenges.
Smith tells of her family’s history as if she’s discovering it for the first time. In this fashion, it seems to jump around, but this is not a distraction. It is as if she is sharing her story of discovery with her reader. She also shares her own journey, especially the hard moments of losing one and the other parent and of a divorce. She also shares a visit to a Southern Plantation. There, she has an imaginary conversation with a former slave. She also shares a dream of her carried across the ocean as an enslaved woman on the middle passage. While she finds herself “freed,” she realizes it’s not the same as being a part of the “free.”
Tracy Smith has served as the Poet Laureate of the United States and has received the Pulitzer Prize. She brings her training as a poet into her essays, making the book a delight to read. Her story, being African American, as one of the “freed” in a land of the “free” is worthwhile reading from those of us who come from a different background.
Smith was a keynote speaker at Calvin University’s Festival of Faith and Writing this year. She blew us away with the poetry used in her presentation. I hope to read some of it, but her books of poetry at Calvin sold out quickly.
Danielle Chapman, Holler: A Poet Among the Patriots
(Atlanta: Unbound Edition Press, 2023), 185 pages
This is a hard yet delightful memoir. Chapman begins her story as a young child on a beach in Okinawa. Her father, stationed on the island as a Marine, drown and her mother nearly drowned. Into her life stepped her paternal grandfather, a former Commandant of the Marine Corp. He brought his daughter-in-law and daughter (Chapman) back to his home outside of Washington DC and took care of them . Being included in this family meant summer trips to an old family cabin in Tennessee. The cabin, where nothing had changed since the Civil War, had been built as a saloon during the early years of our nation. There, she learned of her family’s mythology, including those who had fought in the American Civil War, and the descendants of the slaves the family owned.
Because of her grandfather’s prominence in the military and government, she grew up around heroes and those with power. While she questioned some of their attitudes, especially about race. How could a man be so brave and endure so much and yet hold such attitudes, she wondered. She even questioned her own grandfather. However, he remained loyal to her and after her death, she learned some of the things he had down while leading the Marine Corp to help African American marines fit better into the Corp. He also fostered building relationships with those descendants of his Civil War ancestors, which continues after his death with annual reunions.
Chapman shows us through her own family how we all have faults and yet, despite our failures, can overcome and thrive. Primarily known as a poet, Chapman’s command of the language makes this memoir a joy to read.
Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wildness
(1968, Tandor Audio, 2011) 11 hours and 31 minutes. Read by Michael Kramer
This is my third time through this book. It’s been nearly 30 years since I read it the second time, shortly after moving to Utah. I learned about Abbey and his writing while living in Nevada in the late 1980s and have read all but one of his books. That one is hard to find. This time I listened to the book while walking and driving. I’d somewhat forgotten just how radical the anarchist Abbey can be. Sarcasm pours through his words and he attacks his employer (the National Park Service), technology, religion, and humankind. He can love cowboys but hate cow herding. But Abbey is also a man passionate about nature and the world. He makes careful observations of nature and brings alive a place in which many people consider hostile. He’s well read. In this non-fiction work, he often refers to the writings of others.
Abbey writes the book as if he spent the summers alone at Arches National Monument. Arches is now a National Park but didn’t receive that status until long after Abbey’s departure. Abbey spent five years working at Arches, but he tells the story as if it was only one season. While he wrote the story as if he’s a solo ranger, since my first readings of the book, I have learned that wasn’t the case. Part of the time Abbey worked at Arches he had a wife and even a daughter, according to another writer, Paul Scott Russell.[1]
While much of the work focuses on his time at Arches, when not working as a ranger, he helps neighboring cattlemen as they round up cows. He also joins with other federal employees from other agencies, (including his own brother), looking for a lost tourist near Dead Horse Point. The found the man dead. He searches for a renegade horse up a dry canyon. With a friend, he spends a week floating through Glen Canyon. This was before a dam flooded the canyons to create Lake Powell. Along the way, Abbey helps his reader to understand the unique landscape lost to the flooding of the canyon.
While there is a rough edge to Abbey, I think his voice still needs to be heard. He reminds us to take a second look at the world we inhabit and to find beauty in areas many overlook.
Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac
(1949, HighBridge published the audible version in 2020, 4 hours and 16 minutes), narrative by Cassandra Campbell.
I first read this book in the late 1970s, as a college student. It is a classic conservation text. Leopold, works through the year, month by month, delighting his readers with his descriptions of his farm in central Wisconsin. Each month brings new discoveries. The author not only grounds himself in the spot where he would retreat every weekend (he taught at the University of Wisconsin), but also recalls others who have lived on this land.
One of his monthly essays involved cutting an oak which had died the previous year by a lightning strike. Using a long saw with two cutters on each end, Leopold recalls what the tree witnessed during each decade as they cut into a new set of growth rings.
Even in the 30s and 40s, when Leopold collected these stories (they were published after his death), he understood how we were losing our connection to the land. Considered the father of conservationism, Leopold’s vision is for his readers to understand their connection to the land and to all living things. While many may question his love of hunting, for Leopold it’s done out of a higher love for the land. In his writings, he recalls getting up early and the positioning of the stars. He muses on the migration of animals and the use of well-kept tools. Leopold observes and records. .
I think everyone should read this book. After forty-some years, I was glad to pick it up again. While I listened to the book, I often referred to the pages of my hard copy, cherishing Leopold’s vision. The audio version also included a wonderful essay at the beginning by Barbara Kingsolver.
A quote: “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, but He is no longer the only one to do so. When some remote ancestor of ours invented the shovel, he became a giver; he could plant a tree. And when the axe was invented, he became a taker; he could chop it down.”
This audio book I listened to consists just of Leopold’s Sand County Almanac. The version on my shelf includes additional essays.
[1] Russell, author of A Private History of Awe, said this at Calvin’s Festival of Faith and Writing years ago. He said Annie Dillard (A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek) wasn’t alone when she wrote her solo stories.
Reuven Fenton, Goyhood: A Novel (Central Avenue, 2024), 276 pages.
The story of twin boys is as ancient as Esau and Joseph. In this story, David and his younger brother (by forty-three seconds) Marty are raised by a single mother in a small town in Georgia. Together, they make quite a team. Then their lives change one afternoon as they come home on their bikes and discover a rabbi talking to their mother. She confirms their Jewish heritage. This sets them on divergent paths. Marty takes this revelation seriously (and changes his name to the more Jewish sounding “Mayer”). He becomes a model Jewish student. He receives a scholarship and heads to New York for more study. There, he marries the daughter of a leading Orthodox Jewish scholar, who provides for their needs. He spends his life studying and living as an observant Jew.
David, on the other hand, becomes involved in all kinds lots of shady business deals. He makes and loses money, but mostly loses money. Then he finds success. Now middle-aged, their mother’s death brings the boys back together. She committed suicide and left behind another revelation in the form of a letter. While there to morn their mother’s death, and with the revelation that he’s not even Jewish, David encourages Mayer to go on a road trip as the brothers become reacquainted.
For Marty, who has lived his life in a sheltered Jewish enclave in New York, it’s a chance to really see the world, a sort of Jewish Rumspringa. The travels and his brother’s experiences amaze Marty. Along the way, we learn more about both brothers as well as Mayer’s marriage. They have a few close run-ins with the law, and adopt a dog.
In New Orleans, David picks up Charlayne, an African American social media influencer he met on the internet. She’s planning on hiking the Appalachian Trail, and David suggests to Mayer they drop off her at Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the trail. Two white guys traveling through the South with a black woman sets up some interesting encounters such as one which happened in a fireworks store. They even hike a day with Charlayne, allowing David a chance to experience nature and to ponder the meaning of worship. Charlayne, who has dealt with her own grief, gives Mayer a copy of book she’s read multi-times, C. S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed, which opens his mind up to the thoughts of non-Jews on the subject of grief. .
David also arranges for him and his brother to attend a Jewish retreat in the mountains. This allows for more interesting encounters, from a phony self-centered musician who acts as if he’s unable to walk, to a woman rabbi. The whole concept of a woman rabbi is beyond Mayer’s comprehension, but she opens his eyes to possibilities beyond previously narrow life.
I’ll save the ending of the book for the reader. This is a quick read, and there’s plenty of laughs along the way. I recommend reading the book. I read the book at a time I needed some chuckles, mostly while sitting in my father’s hospice room in the days before his death. But the book isn’t just humorous. Fenton explores the meaning of faith, belonging, race, and family.
My one wish is that the book would include a glossary of Jewish words used throughout the book. Such words are sprinkled throughout the book and add to the story. While I knew some of the words, most were unfamiliar to me. I found myself googling some phrases. The word “Goy,” used in the title is a Yiddish word for a gentile or non-Jew.
I received an advanced publication of the book for the purpose of reviewing the book. The book was published earlier this week.
I started this post two weeks ago, when I was in Detour Village in Michigan’s UP. Today, I am in Wilmington, NC, , as my father is recovering from four bowel surgeries… I know this is a long post. If you find what I say about one author boring, just skip to the next. In a way, this massive data dump is my way of summarizing what’s in my journal. I placed photos of the books which I came away with from the festival.
Pre-Conference Workshop on Wednesday
Northern Red Oak “I am the vine, you are the branches,” Jesus said. “Cut off from me you can do nothing.” Yet, the heavy oak branch, sheared from its life source, fallen from the empyrean, decomposes slowly on the forest floor in a bed of rotten leaves from which trout lilies sprout.
Wednesday at the Festival
I scratched out the above poem in a workshop by Paul Willis, a poet I first met at the festival nearly 20 years ago. He gathered us into groups of four and set us free in the nature preserve behind the Prince Conference Center at Calvin University. We were to quietly make our way through the preserve, taking turns leading and then pointing out something of interest. We would each make notes, and another person would lead the group. After 45 of so minutes of silence, we discussed what we saw. Then he gave us just a few minutes to take one of the things we’d written about and to create a poem. Hence, the poem I wrote about a large branch of an oak tree resting on the forest floor.
New moon, a day after the eclipse
After seeing the eclipse in South Charleston, Ohio on April 8, I attended the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing. This is my fifth time at this festival, which is held every other year. The last festival I attended was in 2012. And, because of COVID, this year’s festival is the first in-person gathering since 2018. Over the years I have heard a many great authors speak about writing and faith including Salman Rushdie, Wally Lamb, Scott Russell Sanders, Eugene Peterson, Kathleen Dean Moore, Thomas Lynch, Parker Palmer, Mary Karr, Debra Dean, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Craig Barnes, and Ann Lamott. Each year, the festival draws in around sixty authors and a couple thousand participants. While almost all the authors are Christians, the only requirement is that they write about faith. In addition to Christian authors, there have been Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, and even atheists.
Here are the authors I heard. There’s no way one can hear all the authors in three days. I tried to capture a bit of what I learned from them. I have listed the authors in order that I first heard them at the conference (in some cases I heard them speak twice):
Thursday at the Festival
Margaret Feinberg is a podcaster (The Joycast) and author of Scouting the Divine: Fight Back with Joy, Taste, a See. Feinberg spoke on sustaining a writing life. She detailed two practices and drew from her own life and her book for examples:
Cultivate a life of Adventure (or live a compelling life). She drew on her parents’ examples as well as on those who grow grapes.
Cultivate a life of healing. Here, she drew on the work of olive growers.
Ruth Graham Born in an evangelical family, Graham now serves as a religious writer for the New York Times. Thankfully, she noted, the job of a religious reporter today isn’t focused on denominational meetings. She’s more interested in getting to the heartbeat of religious experiences. She told of a story she wrote for Slate, about a man from Dalton, Georgia, whose Bible leaked oil. She tried to tell the story, which she suggested was about a man who had a religious experience which got out of hand, in a way that is fair to all sides.
Sara Horwitz Born in a secular Jewish family, Horwitz rediscovered the faith of her ancestors in her mid-30s working in the Obama White House. She first was on a team of writers for the President, and later became the speech writer for Michelle Obama, the first lady. Horwitz spoke about how encouraging everyone in the White House was to her desire to practice her faith (including turning off her cell phone on the Sabbath). She gave up an opportunity to help Michelle Obama with her memoir to write a book on her journey into Judaism. Religion, she said, should draw us out from ourselves and into something larger. She found freedom in the Jewish law which she interprets as a system of maintaining dignity in others.
Marilyn McEntyre A popular podcaster and Bible teacher, Feinberg titled her talk, “Writing Through a Fog of Fear: Finding Life, Giving Words in an Alarming Time.” Acknowledging the challenges facing writers today, she spoke of our context while providing questions for discernment and strategies for publicly presenting our work. She began with two epitaphs: “Be not afraid,” -Jesus. And “Be afraid, very afraid.” -Mel Brooks. Discerning questions:
From where does my energy or sense of urgency come?
Who would I most like to read this? If only one reader, who?
Who will take offense or be troubled? How can I address their concerns?
In writing this, what does it mean to me to be as wise as serpents and innocent as doves?
We bring our own association to every word. But the same works for others. What words of ours will be their triggers?
Strategies for speaking into fear:
Study your favorite risk takers (suggest reading Gaza Writes Back)
Have meta-conversations where you can. Talk about language behind our words to help people better connect.
Listen to the call of the moment.
What does it mean to be faithful? Do you put a name to what you are faithful to?
You don’t have to go into anger. You can model debate, hope. Let your style be modelling.
Be responsible to speak to the complication of the issue. What do we want people to hear? Honor complexity of beliefs.
Don’t under-estimate the power of beauty.
Be surprising. Change up our writings with exhortation, humor, lament in the same piece.
Change genres. Try out new genres.
Offer authentic antidotes. Try following Jesus’ example and speak into issues.
Stories are important. Stories help disarm.
Acknowledge the emotional weight (Susan Sontag writing on the pain of others)
Play with paradox. Be a gentle alarmist, a light-hearted doomsayer.
Be a prophetic trickster, a Riddler.
When you have the privilege from writing with safety, remember those being killed for their speech. We can speak because they can’t.
Write with others.
Pray for clarity, for when and to whom to write, for obedience, courage, and passion.
Tracy Smith (keynote). Smith provided the Thursday night keynote address. A graduate of Harvard and Columbia, she also was a Stenger Fellow at Stanford. She has served as nation’s poet laurate (2017-2019), has been awarded the Pulitzer-Prize and has published poetry, a memoir, and non-fiction. Currently, she teaches at Harvard, and has recently published To Free the Captives: A Plea for the American Soul.
Her speak focused on reading certain poems and reflecting on how they came about and how they might be interpreted. In her introduction, her work was described like “Jacob wrestling with God” and how our “paradoxical wounds can heal.” The poems she read and reflected on included: “Hill Country,” Weather in Space,” “We all Go Chasing All We Will Lose,” “Political Poem,” “The United States Welcomes You,” “The Fright of our Shared History,” and “Wade in the Water.”
Sadly, all her books of poetry had sold out, but I came away with a signed copy of To Free the Captives and look forward to exploring her vision of a better world.
Friday at the Festival:
Mary DeMuth spoke on “stories as healing.” Telling the truth, she proclaimed, is the key too both good writing and good living. She provided six things to consider if we fear sharing a story:
Discern timing. “Don’t vomit on the reader.” A story never told can never heal, but we should remember that our call is to first write, not necessarily publish.
Exactness is not the same as truth. We must remember that it is our story and no one else can tell the story in the same way as we can. Storytelling is an effective truth delivery vehicle.
Expect opposition. While we should welcome helpful feedback, we also take a risk of putting our work out there. Sometimes, when you tell the truth, you engage is spiritual warfare. She finds having a prayer team helpful as they both pray against attacks but also help keep her humble.
Name our fear.
Expose evil but love your readers.
See the benefits (God gives us glory in our weakness).
If we don’t tell the truth, we misrepresent people. Our job is not to enlarge villains but to enlarge Jesus.
Matthew Dickerson and Fred Bahnson titled their conversation, “Ecology Imagination and why stories matter.” Dickerson part of the conversation was often based on Tolkien. I haven’t read Tolkien since college. Bahnson (I’ve read his book Soil and Sacrament), drew more from Wendell Berry and Barry Lopez, two authors I continue to read. Bahnson described how the richest life is found where rivers meet oceans, and how writers need to put themselves in such uncomfortable and risky settings to best flourish.
Diane Mehtu spoke about Dante and Virgil (Dante’s guide through hell). This was a fascination lecture even though the presenter read from a paper. She uses powerful language. She presented the idea of the friendship of the two poets, who lived over a Millenia apart, and what she’s learned from repeatedly reading the Divine Comedy. What made the lecture even more interesting to me is that I had been listening to an unabridged reading of Augustine’s City of God and had just heard Augustine dealing with Virgil.
Karen Swallow Prior titled the lecture I attended, “Imagination: It’s not just Hobbits and Hobby Horses.” She questioned how we often consider imagination as something playful within our childhood and mostly individualist. This she challenged, suggesting that we often inherit language structures (language is based on imagination) without understanding how it came about. This she applied to evangelicalism, of which she was critiquing and suggests needs to embrace imagination to work its way out of its crisis. Another criticism of evangelism is that it tends to draw more on American ideals than the Christian faith and is a product of modernity and late-stage capitalism. She also critiqued evangelism’s emphasis on the end times, suggesting that we don’t need stories about the end but about how to get there. The early Christians, who called themselves “people of the way” understood this.
Yaa Gyasi (Friday evening keynote) This “conversation” between Gyasi and Jane Zwart focused on her two novels and how they deal with grief and loss. Gyasi was born in Ghana, but grew up in Huntsville, Alabama. Her experiences seem to provide her a unique perspective even though I haven’t read her books. Quote: “Prayer and writing comes from the same place. From your pen to God’s ear.”
Saturday at the Festival
Christian Wiman is a professor of communication arts at Yale Divinity School (and former editor of Poetry). I attended his lecture titled “The Art of Faith, The Faith of Art.” Wiman read several of his poems and reflected on the faith and art within them. Sadly, I was running late and missed part of this lecture.
Danielle Chapman I heard Chapman speak twice. The first session was a discussion with Jim Dahlman on Southern literature. While both have published books which I came away with, I questioned their representation as a Southern writer. But her poetry is engaging as is her memoir, which I have already started and will review.
I later heard her talk on memory in non-fiction and poetry.
Sonya Bilocerkowyez gave the best lecture I attended outside of the keynotes. Sadly, it was also one of the least attended lectures. An American-Ukrainian, she’s the granddaughter of Ukrainians who were displaced during the Second World War. She happened to be teaching in Ukraine in 2014, when the Maidan Revolution kicked out the Russian puppet government and Russia invaded the Dobast and Crimea. Afterwards, she published a collection of essays titled, On Our Way Home from the Revolution: Reflections on Ukraine.
Her lecture was titled, “Whose Manuscripts to Burn? On the Role of the Writer during Wartime. Drawing on “cancel cultural” and “imperialistic language,” she spoke passionately about how Russia once again attempts to cancel Ukrainian identity. She credited her grandmother for teaching her an 1840 poem against Czarist imperialism.
She made four points on the role of the writer in war:
The role begins before the war.
The role is to document.
The role is to save lives.
The role is to free the land (Decolonization cannot be a metaphor).
Throughout her lecture, she drew on Ukrainian writers (such as Oksana Zabuzhko and Victoria Amelina, as well as those from Bosnia and Gaza.
Stacie Longwell Sadowski lead a lunch circle dealing with the use of social media for writers. As she and her husband maintain a site that encourages people to explore the outdoors, I joined her group and learned a bit more about what I am doing wrong . Actually, I did learn a lot from the luncheon circle. However, since I am not into monetizing my site, I’m not changing much. Check out her website, \Two Weeks in a hammock.
Anthony Doerr
Anthony Doerr (closing keynote) Doerr was the reason I decided to make the trek to Grand Rapids for the conference this year. I am still amazed five years after reading his breakout novel, All the Light We Cannot See. He began the final keynote of the conference, before a packed house, speaking about similes. Doerr questioned if the age of similes is over. quoting polls and exposing outrageous similes he’d come across in his reading. He drew upon Homer and Superheroes and made fun of the mistakes he’d made in his slides.
Doerr was by far the funniest speaker I had heard at the festival. He was very free in his presentation which was given in Calvin’s fieldhouse. At one point, he pauses and looks up at the banners hanging around and says, “Calvin’s girls volleyball team must have really been good.” At another point, in this long diatribe on similes and metaphors, he pauses and looks around at the crowd and says what many were thinking, “You thought you were going to hear the bald guy talk about All the Light We Cannot See, didn’t you?”
Then Doerr made a serious turn. His talk about similes was to point to the interconnectedness of our violent and conflicted world. He suggested reading as a way for us to get beyond our self-centeredness and to make connections with the larger world. Next, he called for leaders who could make such connections. Then he encouraged writers, who have the advantage of metaphors, to bring these connections out in our writing. He advised us to tell stories, which are needed to bring our world together. It was a simple message that extended to 45 minutes through his humorous antidotes. When he was over, he received a standing ovation.
After the lecture was over, I met Bob, a friend of mine from Hastings, and the two of us drove up to Detour Village in the UP, arriving a little after midnight on April 14th. More about that later…
I’m away for two weeks. I left early on Monday, April 9, and quickly drove across West Virginia and Ohio, to position myself in South Charleston for the eclipse. After 2 minutes of awe, I headed up to Michigan. I attended the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids (and will write more about it later). Then I headed up to Michigan’s UP and am in Detour Village for 8 days of reading, hiking, and discussions with a good friend. These reviews are from books read so far during this trip:
Heading up to the Soo
Jonathan Healey, The Blazing World: A New History of Revolutionary England, 1603-1689
narrated by Oliver Hembrough, (Random House Audio, 2023) 19 hours and 42 minutes.
A lot happened in 17th Century England. It was an age of conflict between ideals.
Did the king rule because of divine right or at the consent of the population?
What role would parliament play in a monarchy?
What was the best way for the citizens to practice religion?
And would England remain Protestant or would it resort to Roman Catholicism?
These ideas were debated and fought over. It was a century of much bloodshed. From civil war(s) to frequent executions of those who challenged order (from a king, to dissents, to a few condemned for witchcraft), blood flowed freely through much of the century. By the end of the century, with the Glorious Revolution, the Stuart’s dynasty was out and England began to resemble the country we now know.
While listening to Healey’s book, I couldn’t help but think of the parallels to the American Revolution. Taxation was an important issue to both revolutions. In England, only parliament could authorize taxes which curtailed the king’s power. But the king could send home the parliament if he felt things weren’t going his way. The king tried other ways to raise funds, which eventually led to a war between the king and parliament. By the end of the century, parliament had more power and no longer ruled only at the king’s behalf.
Much of the middle of the book focuses on Cromwell. In a way, as the “protectorate” he became like a king. There is much to dislike about him, but the same can be said about Charles I, who lost his head after the first revolution. As a Puritan, Cromwell tried to push Puritanism on England. Not only did this create turmoil in England, but it also drove a wedge between the English and the Scotch Presbyterians and Irish Catholics. Cromwell’s armies killed large numbers in Ireland, and he also brought in Scots to replace the Irish Catholics.
The religious issues were numerous during this era. The Stuart kings looked more favorably on Catholicism than most of their county. Mary’s reign at the end of the 16th Century, which she attempted to steer the country back to Catholicism and executed hundreds of Protestants, left a bad taste for such a tradition. In a likewise manner, the harsh Puritan rule left a bad taste and after the death of Cromwell, England was more than ready to compromise with a king and parliament. While the country maintained an established religion after the restoration, it became more tolerate of other traditions, including the Quakers, Dissenters, and even Catholics. Interestingly, Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode Island and the Baptist tradition in America, played a role in England as he modeled more tolerance toward other traditions.
While Healey mentions the Westminster Parliament which created the Westminster Confession of Faith, he says little about it. Of course, after the restoration, it had little impact in England. However, the Church of Scotland adopted the confession and because of this, the confession has influenced Presbyterians around the globe. (For more information, see my review of John Leith’s Assembly at Westminster).
I may obtain a written copy of this book and spend so more time studying it. I recommend the book because I think understanding the English revolutions helps Americans understand our own history.
Steven Galloway, The Cellist of Sarajevo
(Riverhead Books, 2008), 235 pages, no photos.
I enjoyed this short novel. Drawing on a real-life event during the siege of Sarajevo, Galloway shows us how people struggled to live in a city reduced to rubble and under constant mortar and sniper attacks from the surrounding hills. After a mortar kills civilians waiting to buy bread, a cellist decided he’ll play a concert every afternoon for 22 days to honor those killed in the attack. Will the cellist also become a victim to those attacking the city?
Galloway uses three characters to tell the story. Each story of survival provides an insight into the tragedy of Sarajevo.
Kenan walks every few days with a bunch of containers to obtain water for his family and an older woman in his apartment building. The city’s brewery is the source for potable water. To make the trek requires a difficult crossing of bridges and intersections that exposes individuals to guns of the snipers in the hills.
Dragan is a baker. His wife and daughter fled the city, but he stayed behind. His home was shelled in the opening days of the battle, so he has moved into a small apartment with his sister’s family. He doesn’t get along with his brother-in-law, but he’s tolerated because he brings the family bread.
Arrow is a young woman who had been on the university’s rifle team. We’re not given her name, at least at first. Her father, a police officer, was killed in the opening battle for the city. Because of her shooting skills, she’s recruited to serve as a sniper. She kills the men who have laid siege to the city. It was an uneasy transition, from shooting at paper to shooting men, but she’s a good shot.
After introducing Arrow as a sniper, she’s called on to protect the cellist. He has become a symbol of defiance and those laying siege to the city want him dead. Studies the cellist’s location, she attempts to get into the mind of the enemy sniper. She almost makes a mistake and the enemy sniper shoots at her, but misses. Then, she kills the sniper even though he hasn’t yet aimed his gun and is listening to the music. The psychological battle between the two snipers reminds me of Liam O’Flaherty’s short story, “The Sniper” which I first read in Junior High.
In a way, Arrow becomes the main character. After protecting the cellist, she has had enough of killing. They assign her to a new group but refuses to kill the enemy civilians. She runs away. Her story ends with the city’s soldiers coming to kill her. At first, she thinks about killing them, but then decides against it. She doesn’t want to be a fugitive and waits. As they bust down her door, she speaks, “My name is Alisa.” While we don’t know what happens, I’m left with the sense she decided her death was preferable to continuing to kill. In this way, she becomes a Christ-like figure in a world of turmoil.
All three characters reminisce about the city’s past and have hope for its future. I recommend this book and found myself constantly thinking about those in Ukraine who now live under such situation with the Russian invasion.
John Lane, Gullies of My People: An Excavation of Landscape and Family
(Athens, GA: University of Georgie Press, 2023), 204 pages including source material and black and white photographs.
Lane explores his family’s past while also learning about the gullies which washed away much of the Piedmont near his home in Spartanburg, South Carolina. The chapters of the book flip back and forth. In some he’s traveling to see where his relatives lived and farmed, often with Sandy, his older half-sister. In other chapters, he hangs out with geologists, studying the erosion of the soil, building their explorations upon the research of the Soil Conservation Service of the 1930s and early 40s. And in others, he writes about his family’s and his own history. Like the gullies, which can never completely heal, the hurts of the past still haunt the lives of the living.
The Second World War creates a dividing line and hangs over the book like a dark shadow. The gullies in the Piedmont were well established before the war, driving many of Lane’s ancestors from the land and into the mills. During the war, Lanes mother, a young mill worker, became semi-famous as a runner-up to a beauty contest for women working in the mills. She would carry around the magazine article with her on the cover for the rest of her life. But her fame flamed out and after her first marriage (Sandy’s father), she struggled with alcoholism for much of her life. Lane’s father spent the war in the army. He served in Africa, on the second wave on Omaha Beach, and across Europe. He suffered emotionally after the war and took his one life when his son was still young.
The war also brought an end to the Social Conservation Service work in the South. It wasn’t that there were more no gullies to study. Instead, the war took away the resources and the scientists became engaged in other activities. Interestingly, among the early soil scientists was the son of Albert Einstein. Lane even has a vision of Albert at the river site of his son’s laboratory on erosion.
In addition to recollecting the memories of his family and learning about the erosion of the land, the book highlights the difficulties of memories. Lane even tells some of the family stories from the perspective of different people to show how such memories can manifest themselves differently.
Toward the end of the book, Lane allows his mother’s a chapter which he drew from her personal journal. In this chapter, we get a sense of her hard life. She died in 2004.
John Lane recently retired from Wofford College, where he taught environmental studies.
From his other writings, I knew Lane and I share a common birth location. Both of us were born in the Sandhills of Moore County, North Carolina. Lane is a few years older than me. He was born right after Hurricane Hazel blew through the area (I was born two days after Humphrey Bogart’s death). Lane spent his earliest years in Southern Pines. I spent my earliest years a dozen miles away, along the Lower Little River, between Pinehurst and Carthage.
Both of us left the area before starting school. Lane’s mother moved him back to Spartanburg after the death of his father. My father moved his family away from our family’s roots after starting a new career. Through this book, I learned of another connection. One thread of Lane’s family (the Mabes) is from Carroll County, Virginia, where I currently live. And, on the eastern side of my property is a large gulley which I suspect washed out after the death of the chestnuts. As I read this book and looked at the cross-cut of the gulley used on the title pages, I couldn’t help but think of my own gulley.
The two reviews below may seem dissimilar. One is a novel set in Africa, the other a non-fiction work on pre-World War 2 Europe. But both books remind us of human depravity. We learn how easy it is for a group of people to be victimized by others. It starts as they are demonized through language and rhetoric. And, if not checked, ends with violence and destruction. Good people must speak up and defend those attacked when irresponsible people attempt to demonize one group of people for the purpose of gaining power. Even the Bible demands it, with laws which call for the protection of the vulnerable: aliens, widows, and orphans.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Half a Yellow Sun
(2006, audible 2017), 18 hours and 10 minutes.
This novel covers a lot of ground. It starts in the early 1960s, shortly after Nigeria received her independence from Britain and goes through the Biafra Civil War. It also the coming-of-age story of a young boy, Ugwu, along with two sisters of a Nigerian businessman (Olanna and Kaviene), a professor (Odenibgo), and a British expat author (Richard Churchill). Except for Ugwu, the professor’s houseboy, the rest of the major characters are educated individuals with status. All (except Richard) are from the Igbo tribe. However, their privileges end with when a pogrom against the Igbo people lead primarily by Muslims of Northern Nigeria. They all know victims of the violence, which led to the breakaway of the state of Biafra, which mostly consisted of Igbo people. A Civil War resulted from the breakaway, which ended in 1970.
The first part of the book focuses mostly on the setting. Ugwu, though his aunt, becomes a houseboy for Odenibgo. It’s a new experience for a boy from a village who has never seen running water or a refrigerator. However, the professor is kind, referring to Ugwu as “My Good Man.” He also insists Ugwu continue in school. Obenibgo home is often filled with other professors, who discuss the post-colonial politics of Nigeria. His home life changes when his lover, Olanna, another professor, moves in with them. Ugwu quickly becomes a part of the family.
Themes within the book
We also learn about Olanna’s sister, Kainene. Both live a different world, as they travel back and forth to Britain, where they were both educated. Kainene later becomes involved with Richard Churchill.
Much of the book is also about the relationship between sexes and marriage. There is much infidelity but also there are examples of great compassion such as Olanna adopting the child of a former lover of Obenibigo. Interestingly, some of the sex is set up by parents, such as when Obenibigo’s mother uses a village girl to entice her son away from Olanna, or where Olanna’s parents suggest a relationship for her to enhance a business deal. Other times such trysts are based on revenge.
Through the interaction of these characters, we learn of the failure of colonialism. Britain forced together different peoples and tribes to artificially create the nation of Nigeria. At least through the eyes of the Igbo, they felt the Britain favored the Muslims in the north, which set up the tension that led to war. The Igbo people are traditionally from the southern part of Nigeria. Because they are hardworking, jobs took them to other parts of the nation. This leads them to be demonized, especially by the northern Hausa peoples. The ethnic tension led to a massive killing that throws everyone’s lives into turmoil.
Half a Yellow Sun Meaning
It’s well into the book that the reader first encounters the term, “Half a Yellow Sun.” It’s the emblem on the Biafra flag, which shows the sun rising, reflecting hope in the future for an independent Biafra. Excitement and hope build among the Igbo people. Sadly, the optimism shatters as Nigeria reclaims parts of the new nation’s territory. Few nations support the breakaway state. Both Britain and the Soviet Union support Nigeria, while only France and a few African nations support Biafra. Those through whom the story is told sees Britain as only looking out for its oil investments in Nigeria, some of which was in the state of Biafra.
The character’s struggles
While most of the main characters in the book are from a privileged class, they, too, experience terror. They have family members brutally murdered in the pogrom. They also lose their privileged status when they are forced to flee the Nigerian troops. Even at the end of the book, things are left unsettled, as Kainene remains missing. This was true for many people in Brifai after the war.
Warning and recommendation
The reader should be warned of the squeamish nature of some of the stories. The killings during the pogrom as well as the horrors of war. Ugwo is conscripted into the Biafran army and excels in making explosions and setting mines for the Nigerian army. But he also experiences terror and extreme behaviors.
Half a Yellow Sun provides the readers insight into the difficulty of the transition from a colony to an independent state. It also shows both the pride and the trouble of Biafra, through the eyes of the Igbo people. While there are difficult parts to read, the book reminds us of the danger of demonizing others.
Personal connections
I have vague memory of the Biafran war. At the time (I would have been 10-13) our nation’s eyes were more turned to Vietnam. I appreciate this book and met the author in 2010 at Calvin’s Festival of Faith and Writing and purchased the book at that time. Somehow, I lost the book, so I listened to this on Audible. I have also read her novel, Purple Hibiscus.
Erik Larson, In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler’s Berlin
(New York: Crown, 2011), 448 pages with a few photos, notes and an index.
Franklin Roosevelt had a difficult time finding an ambassador for Germany in 1933. Normally, such a post would have been a plum spot for a key supporter, but with Hitler’s rise to power, no one wanted to touch it. Roosevelt finally asked William Dodd, a history professor whose academic work focused on the American South. Dodd had spent time in Germany during graduate school before the First World War. In his early 60s, Dodd saw this as one last chance to have his family together. He and his wife, their adult daughter, and adult son, along with the family’s Chevrolet, moved to Germany.
Dodd as an ambassador
Dodd was an unusual ambassador. While he was paid $17,500 a year, which was a great salary during the Depression years, he was not independently wealthy. Upon agreeing to the position, he announced he would live within this salary, something that went against the protocol where ambassadors to favored countries were wealthy and lived far beyond their salary. He also showed more loyalty to Roosevelt than to the State Department which caused him problems. Roosevelt wanted him to do what he could to tap down the Nazi rhetoric against the Jews and to discourage the rising militarism in Germany. His superiors at the State Department were often aghast as his avoiding Nazi Party rallies (which he said would be as inappropriate as a foreign ambassador in the United States attending the Republican or Democratic Conventions.
Much of Dodd’s initial duties in Germany was to protest mistreatment to American citizens. This included many young men who were beaten for not giving the Hitler salute during a passing parade of Nazis. Eventually, the Nazis said foreigners did not have to salute. Still, still some overly enthusiastic Nazis beat foreigners who didn’t show the expected respect. He also had to protest attacks on American Jewish businessmen.
At first, Dodd hoped either the army or the people in Germany would revolt against the Nazi party. By the “Night of Long Knives” (when Nazi leadership took out the SA and top army officials) Dodd had realized the outlook looked bleak. Most of Larson’s review of Dodd’s work comes in the first 18 months of his four-year tenure.
Dodd’s daughter, Martha
In addition to informing the reader of Dodd’s duties as an ambassador, much of the story centered around his wild daughter, Martha. Before heading to German, she had an affair with the poet, Carl Sandburg, a family friend. In Germany, she also had an affair with the American author, “Thomas Wolfe.” Upon arriving, she was sought after and dated a Nazi leader. One German thought the Fuhrer could benefit from a relationship with her and set her up to meet Hitler. He kissed her on the hand!
At first, Martha admired the enthusiasm of the Nazis. However, she soon came to realize the hatred behind the facade and moved away from such entanglements. She also dated an attaché in the Soviet embassy. She even went on a trip, by herself, to the Soviet Union. After the war and her parent’s death, she was investigated for her involvement with the Soviets (who she saw as the world’s hope to defeat Germany). She fled American and lived the rest of her life in Prague.
Recommendation
Reading the book, it is hard to comprehend the Nazi hatred. They used hate to seek power, not letting anything stand in their way. They even changed the phonetic alphabet (how you spell out words so there would be no confusion). Prior to 1934, D was for David and S for Solomon. Afterwards, because David and Solomon were Hebrews, the phonetic alphabet was changed to Dora and Siegfried. The Nazi movement reminds us that language and rhetoric matters. Failure to speak out or challenge such can allow hatred to consume a people. This book needs to be read!
This is the fifth book I have read by Erik Larson and I have enjoyed them all. The first book I read, in 2005, was The Devil in the White City. I later read Dead Wake, Isaac’s Storm, and Thunderstunk.
