The Sunne in Splendour, by Sharon Kay Penman (1982)
Don't be intimidated by the 936 pages. Lugging it to the check-out desk I thought to myself, "There are some books that should be a multi-volume set," but after reading it I don't know where the author would have ended one volume and begun the next. I took an intermission after about 600 pages and read some light stuff like magazines for a few days, because one can only handle so much history in one sit-down. I did persevere to the very end, however, and I'm glad I did. Before I started reading, I didn't know Richard III from Henry IV, but now I feel I could pick him out of a line-up. The book's gentle-handed agenda is to de-vilify Richard III, whose reputation suffered much at the pens of historians kissing up to the following Tudor king. Does this sound boring? Don't be fooled: I fell asleep in many a history class, but I loved this book.
I've said before that one thing that bothers me about historical fiction is that I read the whole thing, assuming it to be essentially fact-based, and then I get to the end and the author's notes include such statements as, "Such-and-such a main character didn't actually exist" or "I had to make the whole thing up around one paragraph in an 1820 newspaper." Well, this throws the whole book into doubt, and I start wondering if perhaps I've done a disservice to my brain by filing away misinformation. I get no such feeling with Sharon Kay Penman's books. She seems far too vigorous a researcher, and has far too delicate a touch when worrying about keeping things factual, for me to feel like I'm going to embarrass myself at the next history party I attend.
This book was just as terrific as Here Be Dragons (see review, last month), albeit requiring a few hundred pages more stamina. Time period covered: 1459-1492; King Henry VI (briefly) through Henry Tudor. War of the Roses, mostly.
Dave Barry's Complete Guide to Guys, by Dave Barry (1995)
Men will recognize themselves and enjoy earning praise for things that typically earn them rebukes. Women will recognize their men and find themselves feeling affectionately tolerant rather than irritable. And the book is funny, of course; that's the main thing.
It's Getting Better All the Time: 100 Greatest Trends of the Last 100 Years, by Stephen Moore and Julian L. Simon (2000)
There comes a point where a person can't take on any more worries. If I have to worry about the population explosion, free radicals, ozone, the greenhouse effect, AND cancer, I'm not going to be able to also worry about world hunger/peace, mad cow disease, and where all the trash is going to go when there isn't any more room underground. When you've reached Maximum Worry Capacity, turn to this book. I'm not entirely convinced of the authors' point, which is that most of our worries about things getting worse are actually completely false, but it sure makes for a nice change. One hundred topics are covered, with evidence and colorful charts to show us that, for example, a single wage-earner today brings home more money than a single wage-earner in the 1950s (meaning, they point out, that it's not true that mothers today can't afford to stay home with their children "like they could in the '50s").
Why is it that I couldn't lean back comfortably into this cushion of optimism? Perhaps it was because the authors' tone was a little too strident for a book presenting such cheery news. Or perhaps their use of statistics made me think too often of spin doctors. Or perhaps they lost me when they referred to their opponents as "dimwitted," and to their opponents' points of view as "screwball." Or perhaps it's just that it takes more than one book to counteract years of careful pessimism training. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant change from the daily news about the rainforests, and it's good to be reminded of the ways statistics can be used to say opposite things.
After reading this review--particularly that last sentence--you'll be left with the impression that I feel this book played loose with statistics--but actually, my thoughts were limited to something like this: "If one set of professionals says we're in trouble with X, and another set says we're actually well in the clear, and both sides use statistics to prove their points, I don't know WHO to believe." Naturally I'd prefer the optimistic point of view, but I wouldn't feel comfortable endorsing it personally--and in general, I suppose my philosophy is it doesn't do anyone any good to be overly relaxed.