A Chain of Thunder, by Jeff Shaara

This book tells the story of the Campaign for Vicksburg during the Civil War. I've visited the National Military Park there a couple of times and always find it both fascinating and moving. Shaara does a good job of providing varying frames of reference from both sides of the battle, generals and enlisted men alike. There are several maps throughout giving a feel for the movement of troops, which is nicely juxtaposed with the southern civilian viewpoints who were only told their position was impregnable and chose to believe it.

This is clearly a well-researched novel, with detail after detail about the quality of life as well as the military strategies. I was surprised to find that anti-vaxxers were not a recent idiocy but were alive and well in the 19th century. "It amazed Bauer that so many in the town, and in the army, had responded instead with outcries against the vaccinations that seemed born of nothing more than superstition." With all this detail, though, there is a surprising lack of what life was like for the slaves in Vicksburg—none of the narrators were Black. When white civilians during the siege were reduced to eating dogs and rats, what the slaves ate isn't stated. Considering this was a war over slavery, this lack of insight hurts the overall narrative.

It was strange reading a novel about the Civil War during a time where it feels our country is splintering along similar political lines, if not physical ones this time. On the North side Grant and Sherman fought to hold the United States together. On the South, Pemberton fought out of loyalty to his Virginia-born wife rather than dedication to the Confederacy. The Northern soldiers fought for duty, the Southern desperate to maintain their way of life. Both sides are depicted fairly nobly, and the institutional racism at the root of the conflict isn't a part of the story. Makes you wonder how the raging racists running Washington will be depicted in literature a century from now.

First Sentence:

The ball was a glorious affair, the Confederate officers in their finest gray, adorned with plumed hats and sashes at their waists.

The Sherlockian, by Graham Moore

Moore has spun a captivating debut novel that takes place in parallel at both the end of the 19^th century and the early 21^rst. He takes details from history (Bram Stoker and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle were friends; Conan Doyle hated Sherlock Holmes, his greatest creation; and Conan Doyle was a diligent diarist but one of his volumes was discovered missing after his death) and the present (the Baker Street Irregulars is an active private society of dedicated Holmes aficionados) and blends them into a couple of mysteries with a single narrative. The Victorian thread follows Conan Doyle and Stoker on the trail of a serial killer, and the modern thread is an investigation into the murder of a prominent Sherlockian who had recently claimed to find Doyle's missing diary, which just so happens covers the time of the earlier adventure.

Chock full of trivia about Conan Doyle and Holmes this is a book clearly aimed at fans of the oeuvre but I don't think one needs to have read every Sherlock adventure to enjoy this; simply understanding and appreciating the caricature of Holmes is enough. There are actually several mysteries explored here: who was killing young suffragettes in 1900, who killed the scholar in 2010, what was written in the missing diary, and what happened to it? All these questions are answered more or less satisfactorily, although the conclusion in the Swiss Alps was a bit farfetched—is breaking and entering a public museum really that easy in this day and age? Overall I found some of the characterization (especially of the modern sections) was sacrificed for the plot throughout, but the plot held together well and rocketed from scene to scene so this wasn't the negative it could have been. An enjoyable read for both Holmes devotees and casual mystery fans.

First Sentence:

Arthur Conan Doyle curled his brow tightly and thought only of murder.

A Room with a View, by E. M. Forster

I sometimes find it easier to relate to pure fantasy or science-fiction novels than I do those set in the Victorian or Edwardian eras. People are very concerned with their status and appearances, and class warfare is subtle but real. Sexism is rampant, and as always, puzzling. "It was not that ladies were inferior to men, it was that they were different. Their mission was to inspire others to achievement rather than to achieve themselves." The plot here is largely driven by a young woman raised in this world, but awakening to modern modes of thought and behavior. She starts the novel on a well-chaperoned trip to Italy, but a chance encounter with a free-thinker starts her on a journey that leads to a tough decision: expression versus repression, ardor versus apathy, life versus lethargy. Not my favorite novel, but an illuminating look at an opaque world.

First Sentence:

"The signora had no business to do it," said Miss Bartlett, "no business at all."

Paris: The Novel, by Edward Rutherfurd

This is the history of Paris told through they eyes of six fictional families between 1261 and 1968. The types of families are well chosen to give a cross section of society through history: the de Cygnes are aristocrats and royalists, the Le Sourds are socialists and revolutionaries, the Gascons are craftsmen and laborers, the Renards are Protestants, the Blanchards are Catholics, and the Jacobs are Jewish. These characters are injected into and around a huge number of important events, such as the Paris Commune and the Terror, the construction of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower, the Avignon Papacy, Vichy France, the Dreyfus Affair and the rocky history of Jews in France, and Catholicism versus Protestantism and the Edicts of Nantes and Fointainbleau. Each chapter is set in a different era but they don't appear in chronological order, instead bouncing from 1875 to 1462 to 1907 and so on. As the narrative follows the same families through successive generations this can be somewhat confusing at times, especially as some use the same given names over and over—for example, there are three separate Roland de Cygnes that take the stage in various eras. This drawback is minor though, and doesn't dramatically detract from what is overall a compelling and illuminating story.

First Sentence:

Paris.

Ironhorse, by Robert Knott

The trend of writers continuing other author's work after their death is becoming more and more common. Here, Robert B. Parker's Virgil Cole and Everett Hitch are given new life. I haven't actually read any of these books, so oddly my first introduction to Parker's characters is in a book not actually written by Parker.

The story is solid but not exceptional; two lawmen in the old west find themselves in the middle of a train hijacking and of course deliver their own brand of justice. The action is constant and driving, with Cole and Hitch coming off like John McClane and Casey Ryback, victorious in the face of long odds. Heavy dialog (including gems like, "Luck is most often accompanied with knowing what you are doing") and sparse descriptions make this feel more like a movie script rather than a novel; fitting in that the author is also an actor and screenwriter, in fact writing the movie adaption of the first Cole and Hitch novel, Appaloosa. Entertaining but not deep, this is a fun read and a good escape for a couple of hours.

First Sentence:

Virgil was sullen.

The Path Between the Seas, by David McCullough

Before reading The Path Between the Seas I knew very little about the Panama Canal other than the location, that the French started the project and failed, and it is the source of one of my favorite jokes in Arsenic and Old Lace: crazy Uncle Teddy "digging the canal" in the basement. I've always wanted to take a trip through the canal and I like reading histories, so I've been looking forward to this book for a while. As usual, McCullough doesn't disappoint.

It took nearly 45 years to build the canal, starting in 1870. There were several competing routes, but the French decided on Panama as the best place to make the cut. They had just successfully completed the Suez Canal and were considered the natural choice for bridging the Americas. Unfortunately as it turns out, digging across a desert at sea level does not take the same skills or technology as bridging a mountainous jungle region in the tropics. The death rate was astonishing in the early days. "Of every one hundred new arrivals at least twenty died, and of those who survived, only about twenty were were physically strong enough to do any real work." In about a decade, the estimates are as many as twenty-two thousand died. Disease was the main killer, as the world had yet to discover that mosquitoes carried malaria and yellow fever; in fact, the cause was so misunderstood that the legs of hospital beds were all placed in shallow bowls of water to protect against ants. If patients didn't have a serious disease when they entered the hospital, the odds were enormous they would before they left. The death toll was only one of several problems the French faced, though; poor engineering plans and irresponsible financing combined to guarantee the failure of the French effort. The only realistic remaining nation that could accomplish the feat was the U.S.A.

America didn't simply come in, pick up where France left off, and finish the canal, though. The US wanted a route across Nicaragua, and instead of a canal had wild plans such as hoisting ships out of the water and hauling them across Mexico on railroad cars. Obviously this isn't what eventually happened, but the story of what did is utterly compelling. Panama declaring independence from Columbia is just one of the momentous events of the era, and even knowing how it all ends I had a hard time putting the book down. As with all of McCullough's books, this is thoroughly researched, well-written, and highly recommended.

First Sentence:

The letter, several pages in length and signed by Secretary of the Navy George M. Robeson, was aggressed to Commander Thomas O. Selfridge.

The Secret Agent, by Joseph Conrad

For a book considered to be one of the first and greatest espionage thrillers, it was murder getting to the end. The writing is stilted and overblown, and I often had to reread passages to make sense of them. "Mrs. Neale was the charwoman of Brett Street. Victim of her marriage with a debaucher joiner, she was oppressed by the needs of many infant children. Red-armed, and aproned in coarse sacking up to the arm-pits, she exhaled the anguish of the poor in a breath of soap-suds and rum, in the uproar of scrubbing, in the clatter of tin pails." Not an easy read.

The plot follows a somewhat incompetent agent provocateur that is playing both sides—talking to the police and working for an anarchist cell. He is forced into an act of insurrection that goes awry and tragedy strikes. I suspect that there are some insightful conclusions that can be drawn with modern terrorism and national security, but frankly I had such a difficult time getting through the superficial story that I was uninterested in looking any deeper. Disappointing.

First Sentence:

Mr. Verloc, going out in the morning, left his shop nominally in charge of his brother-in-law.

The Yard, by Alex Grecian

I enjoyed every word of this novel. Set in a post-Jack the Ripper England the adventure follows Inspector Day, the newest member of the homicide squad, who is trying to solve what begins as a murder of a fellow investigator but eventually encompasses several other grisly deaths and a child abduction as well. Day is joined in his efforts by Dr. Kingsley, Scotland Yard's first forensic pathologist, and the dedicated Constable Hammersmith; the trio makes a formidable and effective team, making use of new and untrusted technologies such as fingerprinting as they work. In this era the failure of the justice system to bring the Ripper to justice has both seriously diminished the police in the eyes of the public, and the thought of another serial killer working London is frightening to everyone. Our heroes are depicted as exceptionally talented, but the disdain of the people they are trying to protect and their own insecurities make for interesting if not quite flawed individuals.

Grecian paints a compelling picture of Victorian London, even including as an active character the real-world Sir Edward Bradford as the Police Commissioner. London doesn't quite manage to be a character of its own here as in Gaiman's Neverwhere, but its influence on the story is commented on often by its citizens. "He had seen idealistic men come and go, the city leaching hope from them too quickly." "We're in the biggest city in the world, ... and I think it's trying to get rid of us." The city's size may be hard to fathom for its inhabitants, but with only a few characters and settings the overwhelming scope didn't really come through to the reader as powerfully as it could have. Ignoring the occasional anachronistic language and the characters constantly bumping into one another in a city as large as London, though, is easy with such a gripping story.

First Sentence:

Nobody noticed when Inspector Christian Little of Scotland Yard disappeared, and nobody was looking for him when he was found.

An Evil Eye, by Jason Goodwin

My mother gave me a signed copy of this for Christmas, and I'm glad she did. Set in the 19^th century Ottoman empire, An Evil Eye has an unlikely hero: a eunuch detective named Yashim in the Sultan's court. The plot revolves around the defection of an admiral and the unlikely deaths of women in the seraglio. The story meanders a bit, but I found it held my interest throughout. Where Goodwin truly shines, though, is in his scenic descriptions: "In snow, Istanbul transformed itself from a city of half a million people into a fantastic forest running down to an icy shore: its domes were the earthworks of a vanished race of giants, its minarets gaunt boles of shattered trees, its roofs, blanketed under a rippling veneer of snow, terraced fields marked only by the arrowed tracks of birds and the dimpled pawprints of hungry cats." This is but one of the many passages that make this part of the world seem unique and fantastic. Turns out An Evil Eye is the fourth in a series; I look forward to the others.

First Sentence:

The yali is made of wood silvered by the sun, dry as tinder.

Sixth Street, by Allen Childs, M.D.

Sixth Street is the heart of Austin's entertainment district. While it has changed a lot in the twenty-five or so years since I first moved to town, in many ways it hasn't changed at all: the names of the bars and clubs change, but the feel of the area remains the same. With this book of annotated photographs and drawings dating back to 1840, though, it is clear the history of Sixth Street is long and varied.

When stagecoaches roamed the land Sixth Street was the main east-west thoroughfare in Austin, largely because it was the avenue that had the fewest hills while being far enough from the river to avoid flooding. As such, hotels, saloons, and storefronts occupied a lot of the real estate, lasting until the entertainment boom and revitalization of the area in the late 1970's. The Driskill Hotel remains popular today and the legacy of the saloons is obvious, but while there is still the odd retail store today, it is hard to believe Austin's first JCPenney and HEB were located on this road!

The narrative of the book isn't very fluid but the photos more than make up for this. I love picking this up and just thumbing through it, looking at the history and imagining how much things have changed over the years. If you've spent any time in Austin, this thin tome will put a smile on your face.

First Sentence (from the Introduction):

East Sixth Street, now a hub of the live music capital of the world, had its humble beginning as a dirt road, the only level path from the east.

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, by Mark Twain

I like to take longer novels when I travel overseas as I haven't yet been sucked into the cult of the Nook and prefer a physical book. A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court fits the bill (the edition I read clocked in at just shy of 500 pages) and having all the action set in the country to which I was traveling made it a perfect fit. I'd seen variations of this in other media—Bing Crosby's movie is probably my favorite quickly followed by the Looney Tunes version—but had never read the book. I knew the movie and especially the cartoon weren't exactly faithful to the source material going more for humor than satire, but I've always been interested in the original. While not as funny (hard to beat Bugs Bunny!) and surprisingly dark, I quite enjoyed it.

The basic plot has been rehashed by many writers since Twain's archetype (probably best by Leo Frankowski): a modern mechanic gets sent back in time to the Middle Ages and uses technology to attempt to change the world. Twain's hero, Hank Morgan, being a stereotypical American of the 19^th century despises hereditary classes like the monarchy and slavery. He also believes in his heart that science can be used to improve society; when he discovers himself suddenly in King Arthur's Britain he immediately uses his training and experience to both modernize and moralize the past. Advancement in technology used to bring about social change is clearly possible, but as Twain plots and history proves, the result is rarely predictable.

While society itself is the main antagonist, the Church is painted as the single biggest threat. People can learn and adapt, especially when the benefits of change are made plain, but religion is always happiest with the status quo—especially when that status quo keeps the Church in control. "I was afraid of a united Church; it makes a mighty power, the mightiest conceivable, and then when it by and by gets into selfish hands, as it is always bound to do, it means death to human liberty, and paralysis to human thought." Sadly, over a century after Twain wrote those words their truth is still evident in our culture. If we've learned anything since 1889 it is that our government can be just as smothering as religion when it comes to our natural evolution as a society.

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court is a complex story and far from the simple children's classic I expected. On the surface is a sometimes funny tale about a man trapped in the past. Underneath that is a critical look at the way the world worked in ancient times, but below that lurks the inherent dichotomy of "the ends justify the means." Hank wants the common outlook of the people to rise above superstition and religious fervor and embrace the credo "all men are created equal," but then exploits this same superstition to gain power and control. I often found myself asking what I'd do in various situations, and not always liking the answers. If you want an enjoyable tale with humor and adventure or a deeper novel that challenges your beliefs, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court fits the bill.

First Sentence:

It was in Warwick Castle that I came across the curious stranger whom I am going to to talk about.

The Wizard of Dark Street, by Shawn Thomas Odyssey

Cute book. A young wizard’s apprentice is a natural magician but would rather follow in her father’s footsteps and become a detective. She gets mixed up with a somewhat silly mystery about missing party gowns and a much more serious one involving attempted murder. Light, funny, and friendly, this serves as a much better introduction to the world of fantasy than Harry Potter.

My mom gave my son an uncorrected proof; he liked it and passed it on to me. Clearly The Wizard of Dark Street is the first book of a series; it reminded me of a cross between Encyclopedia Brown and The Chronicles of Prydain. Being aimed at children, the main cases are wrapped up neatly at the end, but contains obvious villains and dangling plot lines aplenty for future volumes. An upbeat tone and positive messaging (“Neither man nor faerie can live long without hope.”) coupled with comfortable characters and easy friendships, this is a great book for any kid.

First Sentence:

“Magic is a fickle thing,” said twelve-year-old Oona Crate.

Extraordinary Engines, edited by Nick Gevers

Steampunk, the culture of modern inventions powered by steam in the 19th century, isn’t my favorite genre; I find it very hit-or-miss. This anthology was similar, a mix of good and not so good. Machine Maid by Margo Lanagan was easily my favorite, both entertaining and creepy. A young naive bride discovers she dislikes sex as much as her husband revels in it; finding that a nubile robotic maid has... other uses pushes her to commit mariticide in a most fitting fashion. Adam Robert’s Petrolpunk was a fascinating look at multiple dimensions, but as it went on got increasingly crazier until it spun entirely off its axis at the conclusion. I did like his term “steamternet” to describe the Victorian network, though. Jeffrey Ford’s The Dream of Reason was another odd one, telling of an experiment that trapped the rays of a star in a young woman’s mind using a fog that slowed light. Like I said, odd!

If you already like steampunk this is can be an interesting read; if you are looking for an introduction to the category, though, try The Difference Engine or The Peshawar Lancers.

First Sentence (from the Introduction):

Steampunk is a particularly engaging, entertaining, as well as thematically resonant, subgenre of science fiction, fantasy, and horror.

The House of the Seven Gables, by Nathaniel Hawthorne

We had to read The House of the Seven Gables in eighth grade and I remember really enjoying it, but virtually nothing else. When my family and I vacationed in New England this summer I wanted to take along a few books set in the area so I picked this up again. Over twenty five years later, though, I found it plodding and difficult to get through. I wish I could go back and ask my younger self what he liked!

The overall theme is hammered home without much subtlety: the sins of past generations are inherited by successive generations. Colonel Pyncheon arranged for a man to be wrongly accused and hanged in order to usurp his land. A massive house is built on the land, but karma finds the patriarch dead at the housewarming party. Nearly two centuries later, the once proud family has seemingly decayed right along with the mansion, never quite escaping the sins of their ancestor. Hawthorne goes on to suggest that this curse may be tied to the original act of avarice; a Pyncheon seeking excessive wealth or power seems to trigger his downfall.

The heavy-handedness with which this fable unfolds I found unappealing; the morality tale is presented much more effectively in The Scarlet Letter or The Picture of Dorian Gray. As much as I’ve enjoyed rediscovering classic literature, I was disappointed in this.

First Sentence:

Half-way down a by-street of one of our New England towns, stands a rusty wooden house, with seven acutely peaked gables facing towards various points of the compass, and a huge, clustered chimney in the midst.

Mornings on Horseback, by David McCullough

Writing about Presidents is nothing new for McCullough, but where John Adams and Truman cover their subject’s lives from cradle to grave, Mornings on Horseback only tracks Teddy Roosevelt from 1869 when he was ten to 1886 as he fully commits to a career in politics. This abbreviated look is somewhat disappointing, as Roosevelt comes across as a man of integrity (exactly the kind of person I’d like to see in office but I no longer think is electable in our society) and I would like to have learned more about his Presidency here. Besides a fierce integrity, he also possessed high intelligence and a focused drive that was truly remarkable: “There were all kinds of things of which I was afraid at first, ranging from grizzly bears to ‘mean’ horses and gunfighters; but by acting as if I was not afraid I gradually ceased to be afraid.” Willing away fear is something out of comic books, not history books!

It is often said that history repeats itself; one story related here brings this home in spades. In 1875, Rutherford B. Hayes won the presidency by a single, hotly contested electoral vote. Much like the race in 2000 the previous administration was prone to scandal and Hayes’ opponent Tilden won the popular vote. One huge difference: “Like peaceable men of both parties [Roosevelt] breathed a sigh of relief at Tilden’s refusal to contest the decision.” Politics has always been a cutthroat game, but at least through history’s lens it seems that things have become more vicious today. Roosevelt at the time believed the Republican party, “for all its failings, its scandals and fallen idols, was still the party of Lincoln, the party that saved the Union, freed the slaves, restored the national credit.” While technically still true, I find it difficult to maintain this sort of adoration for the Republican party that exists today. A century ago we were governed by individuals; now the party system has control—and this is not a change for the better.

Soapbox aside, Theodore Roosevelt is considered one of the better Presidents in our history, and Mornings on Horseback shows he was a truly remarkable boy as well. Along with family photos, many of his letters and diary pages are included; these unedited words give us a glimpse of his personality which makes a nice complement to the facts and stories. Both inspiring and educational, McCullough has written another enthralling book.

First Sentence:

In the year 1869, when the population of New York City had reached nearly a million, the occupants of 28 East 20th Street, a five-story brownstone, numbered six, exclusive of the servants.

The Four Feathers, by A.E.W. Mason

The themes of duty and self-sacrifice are pervasive in The Four Feathers. Set in the Crimean War era, the book tells the story of a man trying to reclaim his honor, his self-respect, and his love. Harry Feversham is a soldier that is terrified of not being able to live up to expectations, and leaves the military right before deploying to avoid combat. Some of mates accuse him of shirking his duty, each giving Harry a white feather representing his cowardice. When explaining to his fiancée, she also accuses him and breaks the engagement. Harry, of course, turns out to be exceptionally brave and goes on a quest for redemption. I found the story entertaining and engaging, although considering the book has been in print for over 100 years this isn’t so surprising!

First Sentence:

Lieutenant Sutch was the first of General Feversham’s guests to reach Broad Place.

Journey to the Center of the Earth, by Jules Verne

I’ve had this on my bookshelf for almost a year, but just recently cracked it open. Big mistake—I loved it! Suspense and adventure, exploration and mystery, this book was hard to put down.

The narrator, Otto Lidenbrock, plays the role of the normal man swept up in extraordinary events which is usually a nice tool to explain what is happening without talking down to the reader. Unfortunately, this narrator is whiny and pompous which at times made him hard to take. His arrogance did however occasionally provide for some unintentional humor at times, such as when Otto describes his Icelandic hosts: “...when one fishes, hunts, and shoes horses, one ends up adopting the tone and manners of fishermen, hunters, and other somewhat rude folk.”

My mother the librarian will probably be disappointed that I didn’t delve into the deeper levels the story portrays: man’s journey of introspection. I read for enjoyment, however, and I had enough of analyzing literature in school! Journey to the Center of the Earth is an entertaining story in its own right, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

First Sentence:

On May 24, 1863, a Sunday, my uncle, Professor Lidenbrock, rushed back to his little house located at No. 19 Königstrasse, one of the most ancient streets in the old town of Hamburg.

The Fencing Master, by Arturo Pérez-Reverte

In The Club Dumas, Pérez-Reverte crafted a mystery with book sellers and lost manuscripts; here, the adventure revolves around fencing and 19th-century Spanish politics. Don Jaime Astarloa is the fencing master of the title, an older man who is expert in a dying art. A mysterious woman appears and wants to be taught the killing thrust for which he is famous, and his life starts to spiral out of control after that. Mix in secret political documents, a throne in jeopardy, and a noble man living in the past and an exciting thriller begins to unfold.

The Fencing Master was both captivating and well-written, but I simply don’t know enough about fencing to be drawn in to the obviously well-researched sections. I could follow the duels and the intensity of the fights came through well, but I suspect that there was an artistry that would have been more poignant if I was better versed in swordsmanship. I still loved the book, however, and look forward to others by this author!

First Sentence:

Much later, when Jaime Astarloa wanted to piece together the scattered fragments of the tragedy and tried to remember how it all began, the first image that came to his mind was of the marquis and of the gallery in the palace overlooking the Retiro Gardens, with the first heat of summer streaming in through the windows, accompanied by such brilliant sunlight that they had to squint against the dazzle on the polished guards of their foils.

The Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson

Chicago hosted the 1893 World’s Fair, earning the city a sought-after role as a major player on the global stage (interestingly, Chicago is not nicknamed the Windy City because of the constant wind off the lake but instead for it’s boasting and self-aggrandizement during this era). This was truly a time of wonder, seeing the first introductions of so many things we think of as ever-present today: zippers, vertical files, long-distance telephone service, moving pictures, and the automatic dishwasher all made their first appearance at the fair, as did Aunt Jemima’s pancake mix, Juicy Fruit gum, Shredded Wheat cereal, and Pabst beer (renamed Pabst Blue Ribbon to honor the first place award it won). The Pledge of Allegiance was written specifically for the World’s Fair, and the first Ferris wheel was unveiled there as well. Larson does a magnificent job of both painting the picture of the spectacle of the fair and the politics and complexities in getting a project of this size put together.

What sets the book apart from a simple historical text is the second story that is interwoven with that of the creation of the fair: the story of America’s first serial killer. Dr. Henry Howard Holmes tortured and killed between 20 and 200 people—the exact number is unknown because many bodies were so thoroughly dismembered they couldn’t be accurately counted—mainly in Chicago, using the vast number of visitors to the city for the fair to go undetected. Holmes built a labyrinthine hotel with air-tight rooms (so he could gas victims), a large vault (for suffocation), and a crematorium for disposing of bodies. The evil of this killer juxtaposed with the marvels of the fair made for a thought-provoking and informative book that I quite enjoyed.

First Sentence:

How easy it was to disappear: A thousand trains a day entered or left Chicago.

Sailing Alone Around the World, by Joshua Slocum

This is the amazing story of the first person to circumnavigate the globe single-handedly. Slocum is both the author and the sailor and the tale he tells is strangely captivating. In 1895 he constructed a thirty-six foot long sloop by hand and then set sail from Boston. In 1898 he returned, after visiting Europe, North Africa, South America, Australia and South Africa in that order. Along the way he encounters shipwrecks and storms, pirates and presidents, cutthroats and celebrities. An incredible story, this was recommended to me by a friend of mine who has done a fair amount of sailing himself; I’ll in turn recommend it to any of you as well.

First Sentence:

In the fair land of Nova Scotia, a maritime province, there is a ridge called North Mountaini, overlooking the Bay of Fundy on one side and the fertile Annapolis valley on the other.