Mean Dads for a Better America, by Tom Shillue

Tom Shillue is a funny guy who seems to have his head screwed on straight.  In Mean Dads for a Better America: The Generous Rewards of an Old-Fashioned Childhood, Shillue nostalgically recalls his strict and traditional upbringing and concludes that it was just what he needed, and maybe just what all our kids need! 

A child of the 1970s, Shillue recalls that, despite the stereotypes of that decade, more families resembled what we think of as 1950s values.  He writes, "like 99 percent of the country at that time, [his hometown] was a lot closer to Mayberry, with dads that looked like Andy Griffith and kids that looked like Opie."

Most of the book is stories about his childhood.  Shillue has spent a good part of his career doing stand-up comedy, which explains why some of the chapters resemble a stand-up routine.  But beyond the humor Shillue recalls his parents and his childhood with such fondness that you begin to love his folks and envy his home life.  His dad was, in a way, a hard man who struck fear in kids in the neighborhood, not to mention Shillue and his brother, but Shillue writes that he "understand[s] that [he] had a great and fortunate childhood."  He "was not the victim of strict parenting, but a beneficiary of it."

As the son of very traditional parents myself, and just a few years younger than Shillue, I could relate to much of his story.  His family is traditional Irish Catholic; my family is traditional Texas Baptist.  But the experience, parenting style, and, especially, the moral foundation, is similar.  I can agree with Shillue that "my life is better for the great American values that I was fortunate enough to be raised with."  He concludes that "these values can be seen by many as out of step with the times, corny, unrealistic, and unpopular.  But guess what?  They work." Amen to that.


Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!
 

All Those Explosions Were Someone Else's Fault, by James Alan Gardner

"In a world with magic and superpowers, reality gets hard to pin down." Ain't that the truth.  In the alternative earth the is the setting for James Alan Gardner's All Those Explosions Were Someone Else's Fault, the world of magic and vampires coexists with the world of superheroes.  They are the Light and the Dark, the Sparks and the Darklings.  Magical powers are there for the buying, so the wealthy and powerful have all become Darklings.  But a few people with superpowers provide a bit of balance in this crazy world.

When four friends get caught up in an explosion at their university lab, they obtain superpowers and quickly get called on to use them to fight Darklings and villains.  The four friends take on superhero personas and gradually become accustomed to their new skills, learning to work together as they fight and hunt down the bad guys.

All Those Explosions is aptly named, as the young ladies frequently tend to be around big explosions.  Gardner does actually develop the characters a bit, and he does string together a somewhat feasible plot, but mostly the book is about superheroes figuring out how to use their powers, using their powers to fight bad guys, and dealing with the explosive results.  True to the comic books that inspired Gardner, he writes about lots of fighting and explosions.

The mix of Light and Dark, and the Sparks' occasional use of magic, sets All Those Explosions apart from other superhero stories, as does telling the story from the perspective of the college girls.  It has a definite feminine/YA feel to it.  Gardner keeps it light, injecting the story with plenty of humor.  It's a fun read, like a comic book without pictures, but not a book that leaves me itching to pick up the sequel.


Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!

The Trial, by Robert Whitlow

With each of Robert Whitlow's books I read, I grow increasingly impressed.  His 2006 book The Trial deals with small-town power, trust fund corruption, and a drive for conviction, no matter what the facts show.  Mac MacClain gets stuck with defending a young man accused of killing his friend, an heiress whose family wields considerable power in their little town.  In a way, it's open-and-shut, guilty as charged, but more and more details put a question in Mac's legal mind.

Suffering from his own loss of his wife and two sons a few years before, dealing with another family's loss amplifies his struggles with desperate feelings.  Thankfully, an expert witness on the case catches his eye and offers friendship that points him toward salvation. 

Whitlow has written a strong legal thriller, with bad guys lurking in the background, their existence only hinted at throughout much of the book.  He offers just enough misdirection to lead the reader to suspect one character, but upon the revelation of the true villain, it all comes together nicely.

But what sets Whitlow apart from other writers of legal fiction is the way he weaves the characters' faith into the story.  Some of the characters are people for whom their Christian faith and church life are more than tangential, but are central to the way they live and work.  Whitlow doesn't throw the gospel in the readers' faces, but writes realistically about how average people engage their faith in daily life, and how their faith in Jesus helps them respond to crisis. 

The Trial has all the elements of enjoyable legal fiction, with the added bonus of believably presentating of the character's faith without distracting from the plot.  Pick it up.

Everyone Toots, by Joe Rhatigan, illustrated by Alejandro O'Kif

Everyone toots.  It's true.  Joe Rhatigan writes about it, with illustrations by Alejandro O'Kif, in Everyone Toots.  With silly pictures and silly rhymes to match, they remind us that no one is exempt.  Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, musicians and dancers, teachers and baseball players, even kings and queens toot.

O'Kif's cute drawings dramatize the impact of toots, which will surely delight young readers.  Thankfully we don't have explosive green clouds coming from our backsides when we toot.  Actually, it might be more fun if we did. . . .  It can be embarrassing, but Rhatigan reminds us, "Don't worry about a toot or two--because it happens to everyone!"

Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!

How to Be Perfectly Unhappy, by The Oatmeal

I didn't know I was going to be so challenged by a silly little cartoon book.  Actually, silly isn't a good word to describe Matthew Inman's (a.k.a. The Oatmeal) How to Be Perfectly Unhappy.  Inman offers an alternative view to the common perspective on happiness.  Like most parents, I want my kids to be happy.  I want to be happy.  But what do we really mean by "happy"?

Inman says he is not happy, but that doesn't mean his in unhappy.  His life isn't necessarily "rich with smiles and fun and laughter."  He says "I'm not 'happy' because our definition of happy isn't very good."  The word fails to recognize and capture the full range of human emotion.

He recognizes that he's different from many people in society.  But he says "I'm busy.  I'm interested.  I'm fascinated."  When he's running an ultramarathon or working long, hard hours, he's not happy, and may even be suffering.  But he does these things "because I find them meaningful.  I find them compelling. . . . I want to be tormented and challenged and interested."

I tend to be a happy person.  Inman forces me to acknowledge that many people interact with the world in very different ways, and achieve satisfaction, meaning, and fascination in a variety of ways and moods.  How to Be Perfectly Unhappy features the simple, eye-catching style of Inman's art familiar to his fans, but doesn't have the characteristic humor that his other books have.   This is a thought-provoking book that will stick with you.


Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!

Directive 51, by John Barnes

A decentralized, seemingly uncoordinated attack of nanoswarms is shutting down modern life across the globe.  A nanovirus that eats away plastics and electronic components cripples transportation, communication, and conveniences everyone has taken for granted for generations, sending civilization back to a pre-industrial existence.  As the nanoswarms spread, directed attacks against government have demolished all political and economic institutions.  In the wake of these disasters, groups with competing claims of leadership feud.

If you have watched the TV series Revolution, this all sounds quite familiar.  But this is actually a description of John Barnes's novel Directive 51, the publication of which, in 2010, predates the TV show by several years, making me wonder if the TV writers drew some inspiration from Barnes.  I think the comparison is apt, as Directive 51 develops slowly, covering individual, unrelated characters over wide geographical expanses.  The plot is pretty flat and episodic, like a TV show, too.

Barnes's strength of description and detail keep the story interesting, even if much of it seems to be a set up for pretty standard post-apocalyptic fiction.  Directive 51 is the first book in a trilogy.  While I didn't love this book, I liked it enough that I'll be picking up the next one.  Just like a decent TV series, Barnes left me with enough questions and curiosity about the fate of the characters and the nation that I'm willing to tune in again.

Not a Crime to Be Poor, by Peter Edelman

Peter Edelman's Not a Crime to Be Poor: The Criminalization of Poverty in America is a sobering call to action.  Edleman, who I knew of as the guy who resigned from the Clinton administration in protest over the 1996 welfare reforms, has served in other roles in government and currently teaches at Georgetown's law school.

Edelman is on the left, clearly.  But Not a Crime to Be Poor is a book that should have broad bi-partisan appeal.  Contrary to popular opinion, many on the right care about the poor, too, and will agree with much of the case Edelman makes.  I have only been tangentially aware of some of the issues he addresses.  Our legal system will often issue insignificant citations for minor violations, then, if someone can't pay, throw them in jail.  It's a ridiculous and tragic cycle.  Child support is one of the worst examples.  If a father falls behind on child support, he can be imprisoned, where he has an even more difficult time paying.  Then, with a prison record, he will struggle to find a job, and, again, can't pay what they owe.  On top of all that, many prisoners accrue charges for the privilege of staying in prison!  Millions of prisoners "owe a total of $50 billion in accumulated fines, costs, fees, charges for room and board in jails and prisons, and other impositions."

If someone is arrested for even a petty crime, but can't afford to pay bail, he or she might be put in prison awaiting trial.  In many jails, the majority of prisoners have not been convicted of anything, and many more "are there for nonviolent traffic and other low-level offenses." Not only do these stays in prison negatively impact the lives of those who can't afford bail, but it costs billions to keep all of them in jail.  "Rich people make bail; poor people don't.  Regardless of actual guilt or innocence, poor people are criminalized for their inability to buy their way out of jail."

There are clear problems with the criminalization of poverty, and Edelman's work is important as it sheds light on the issue.  His solutions are practical and should be heeded by policy makers without regard to partisanship.  I was disappointed, but not surprised, by the bitter partisanship that detracts from Edelman's message.  He makes much of the fact that, in many cases, minorities are more deeply affected by some of these policies.  But I think he takes too quick a step from effect to intent.  He attributes racist motives to policies that impact African Americans, a presumptuous and ungracious leap that hinders bipartisan exchange.

Even worse are incendiary statements like, "Walter Scott of North Charleston, South Carolina, died because he could not pay his child support." No, he died because an overzealous policeman shot Scott as Scott was running away.  He was running because he knew he owed child support, but, no, he was not shot because he owed child support.  Edelman's partisanship shows itself in his contempt for the Trump administration.  Of Ben Carson he writes, "We have a man running the Department of Housing and Urban Development . . . who knows absolutely nothing about the importance of the agency he heads."  He says voters in 2016 "allowed our country to fall into the hands of people who stand only for their own interests and emphatically oppose the justice--economic and racial--for which so many of us have struggled for so long."  Rather than advocate for change in Washington, Edelman chooses to embrace the media's unfair caricature of the Trump administration.  With this tone, he comes across less as a serious, compassionate agent of change than as a screeching, partisan whiner who loves to tout data and describe the problem but is not interested in actually implementing change.


Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the complimentary electronic review copy!