Jeffery Harvey

Finished this one up today, and not a moment too soon given the paper on it that is due tomorrow.

There is a common theme that I have found in all of my academic readings and this one subscribes to it hook, line, and sinker. This book is not a how-to book for the aspiring manager. It is merely a boost to the aspiring manager's confidence when he/she wants to try something unconventional.

The Gallup poll certainly undertook an aggressive research project. Some may find fault in their research, but given the general theme of the book, any fault in the research is a bit of a moot point.

The book is well-written - easy to understand and full of ideas to implement. As a word of caution, one should adopt this as their one manual. It should be a reference on your shelf.

After a long time and much gnashing of teeth, I come to the end of The Brothers Karamazov. My thoughts on it are complicated.

Do I find this one worthy of its "classic" status? No, not really. Yet, I recognize that I am not well versed on the Russian history I imagine Dostoevsky integrates through conversations between characters, references to other parts of the country, or even satirically. Maybe there really is more going on with it.

I find long passages and tangents unnecessary. The centrality of Father Zossima, followed, after the monk's death, Ilusha, are examples. They are interesting, but they drag the pace of the novel down to excruciatingly slow. This book is at its best in the scenes where the investigators question Mitya and even Book 12 as the trial unfolds.

The narrator's voice also confounds me. It is an external voice, and I am comfortable with that. As the novel progresses, though, the narrator becomes more and more capable of interpreting the thoughts of the characters. For me, it is jarring, and it pulls me away from thinking of the narrator as someone else that resides in their town.

Still, though, I find myself glad to have read it. It came to me as a title on a "100 books to read" list, and I'll readily admit that I would not have otherwise picked it up. My goal by working through said list was exactly that: to pick up books I otherwise would have no reason to want to read. It brings to mind how limited our (i.e., the western mindset of the U.S.) understanding of pre-Soviet Russian history is. I also find myself reflecting on the image of Dostoevsky portrayed by friends and family. The writing is not miserable. The story itself (and the accompanying storytelling) were not terrible. I can see where he could have a tendency to dive into period-specific Russian context, that is, commentary on those events that were current and widely-known at the time the novel was published. Familiarizing oneself with that history could be helpful, but a heavy lift for the casual reader.

I enjoyed this one. Very down-to-Earth advice. As implied by the title, the contrarian leader would be found “contrary” by the traditionally-trained leader. With such advice as “If a decision can be made tomorrow, don't make it today” and “Work for those that work for you”, the contrarian leader always considers the situation from the other person's shoes. Sometimes we get tunnel vision and forget that those we are leading are people too.

Despite its premise, this book shouldn't be a straight-ahead “how-to” book. The underlying theme is simply to think balanced. Consider the other view. Make reasonable decisions. Even though our personal step-by-step may vary, to make reasonable decisions is admirable in any instance.

Having watched (and not particularly liking) the film version of Revolutionary Road, I found myself in a strange position at the start of this book. I looked forward to a more thorough telling of Frank and April's story. In that regard, the book didn't disappoint.

I still find that I don't empathize or sympathize with a single character in the story. That comment is a compliment to the author. Yates developed the characters, even the bit players, such that I feel like I know someone that is similar to each one. I don't revile or “hate” list of the characters; they just aren't people with which I'd spend time.

It's worth noting the overtly male tone of the book. Frank Wheeler is a 1950s Everyman, at least as portrayed in the media. He hates his job until he starts to get recognition for it. He loves his family, but he is burdened by the responsibility of caring for it. He sees Maureen is a conquest and finds it astonishing that she would have any feelings of her own about their tryst. Shep is similar, and he feels no remorse for daydreaming about other women. He makes it a point to make the best of his marriage to Millie.

Even April's tale, with the exception of the abortion chapter, is told through male eyes. Is Revolutionary Road a product of its time? Or do we hold this against the author?

The theme of ‘expectation' runs through the entire narrative. Frank and April rail against the expectations of suburbia while ensuring they achieve them. They feel they are above the other characters that simply are what they are. Situating Mrs. Givings as a realtor was genius. Her job is to sell that expectation. When her husband reminds her of her affinity for the Wheelers at the end of the book, she conveniently talks them down because they don't fit the expectation. Similarly, I found strong themes of acceptance.

I read that Yates wrote the book as an indictment of 1950s America and the conformity everyone was seeking. The text can almost be read as the opposite: a longing for conformity given the sometimes radical individualism and selfishness that later generations would come to celebrate

There is a part of me that wanted to enjoy this book (which it did), and there is a part of me that had made up my mind that I didn't care much for Hemingway based on my impressions as a teenager reading something assigned to me 25 years ago. I am glad I stuck it out and finished this one.

Starting the title and the allusion to Donne, the theme of connectedness is woven into the narrative skillfully. I mean that sincerely. There are times when Hemingway is overt about it, with the characters openly acknowledging the connectedness of the world. Yet, much of Robert Jordan's personal reflections deal with this theme, and his musings connect him to his past and the future in interesting ways.

The theme of death also appeared constantly. Hemingway dealt with it squarely and effectively, though the characters can come off as callous to it. Is that because they're fighting a war? Possibly, yet the scene of Anselmo's death shows the reader that these characters, particularly Jordan and Pilar, are capable of being deeply affected by death. In step with the connection theme, the loss of Anselmo dims Jordan's outlook on their mission.

Readers really need a basic understanding of the context in which the narrative occurs. It was not difficult to obtain. A quick review of the Wikipedia entry on the Spanish Civil War, though not acceptable for those embarking on serious academic study of the text, will suffice for the casual reader.

I cannot close a review of this book without commenting on the language. Hemingway's use of thee, thou, etc. is distracting but easily managed. I have read that it was a deliberate attempt to represent the types of broken English spoken by non-native speakers as well as how English can accommodate the multiple second person verb forms found in Spanish. Either way, the language neither adds nor detracts from the text for me, but it could be a stumbling block for other readers. The deliberate avoidance of expletives was another such literary decision.

Would I recommend this one to all of my friends? No. However, for those looking for an accessible, enjoyable classic, this one is an option.

This was a good book - quick read. Pretty interesting for those looking to improve their lives. Doing the right thing is just a choice. You can make the choice over and over again. The beauty of it is, though, if you screw up, there will be another change to make the right choice.

Batman and Son was my first foray into the writing of Grant Morrison, either on Batman or anything else. This paperback was given to me as a birthday present from a very dear friend, a Batman aficionado who not only shares my interest in the Dark Knight, but also has refined it to such a level that he has become my mentor in all things Gotham (and comics in general, to be quite honest).

First and foremost, I loved the book (as can be seen by the 5-star rating). It did, though, take some time to catch up to the flow of Morrison's writing. I am not sure if this was a function of the writing itself, or more to my growing knowledge of the graphic novel. I am still a bit of a newbie to the genre. After realizing the need to infer parts of the narrative through the art as well as “common sense”, the story unfolded for me quite naturally and proved to be very exciting, even as an obvious set-up for more on each of the characters.

In terms of characters, Talia remains mysterious, which is as it should be. Damian, Batman's son, is as socially maladjusted as any character I've encountered, which I am sure is by design. The Bethlehem chapter - which I think is Damian filling the Batman role - is (if I am correct) a disturbing look into what Damian's objectives may be.

Themes throughout the book show Batman/Bruce Wayne's sense of duty, but also his capability for love and connection. Most depictions show Bruce as a playboy, only really feeling love for Alfred and his parents. It is nice to see the seeds of a deeper connection for both Bruce and Batman. For Batman, the journeys may become about more than redemption, revenge, and protecting the innocent (just for the sake of it). In a vacuum, with a son with altruistic intentions, how would the Dark Knight reconcile (or re-think) his actions knowing the potential ramifications on a protege? With Damian's seemingly questionable objectives...who knows?

The book's art is more than adequate to convey the story. I have grown to expect the very dark look and feel of the Batman story, so at times, the art in Batman and Son felt more to me like traditional cartoon-y comic art versus the darker, more angular version. It was certainly not to the point of distraction. Perhaps a subtle change in the art as the story evolves (e.g., a little darker art when Damian's plans are hatched with brighter art as his relationship with Bruce/Batman grows) would be helpful. But...I fully admit that I am not in a position to make such a comic on a graphic novel...I have so much more to learn!

Batman and Son most certainly lived up to my expectations and didn't disappoint. I look forward to continuing the story with The Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul.

I decided to read this book as part of a book group on the recommendation of my wife. She read it at trip-hammer speed some time ago and I had wanted to pick it up since then, but it wasn't until the book club that I finally did. I wish I would have sooner!

Gruen's tale of depression-era circus life is an interesting microcosm of general depression-era life. We see examples of the closeness of the “family” with which one is surrounded (even if it is not “blood” family), the resilience of the people when faced with adversity, the ingenuity and unapologetic re-use of everything - even people and animals in ways most of us would not want to think - and so on. Perhaps most enjoyable arethe way Gruen weaves the theme of friendship across classes and genders and how she captures the relationship that many of us have with pets (even though these pets are circus animals) without being overly sentimental.

One of my pet peeves in contemporary literature is this overly sentimental stance. Gruen avoids it with deftness. Her story is touching without trying to hard, which makes it more believable. Her story is, at times, difficult without wallowing in itself. Her characters live through great sadness yet are not defined by it. In short, Gruen writes this book the way we live our lives...when something bad happens, we buck up and get through it. When something good happens, we revel in it and then move on.

The ordinary becomes extraordinary as you read this book. You'll find yourself a part of the story.

Brown's text tackles a subject that most agree is important, yet on which many of those that agree don't know where to start. Do I want to be an inclusive leader? Of course! However, beyond a couple of low-hanging fruit steps, I really needed concrete ideas on how to start that journey.

The author does a wonderful job of making (and then re-iterating) the point that inclusion is a work in progress. Inclusion means different things to different people, and leaders must adjust their strategies accordingly. As with most meaningful change, there is no one-size-fits-all approach.

Foundational to one's effort is simply listening and respecting. Those learning to be inclusive will make mistakes, and that's okay. Ensure that your mistakes are honest and coming from an authentic desire to be the leader that the diverse populations on your team need. I gravitated toward the themes of curiosity and learning as well. I know I grew up in an insulated area not known for its diversity. I vividly remember talking with one of my employees (who was of a different race) about how condemnation without action was not akin to any progress. The nexus of that knowledge told me that I had a lot to learn. Exclusivity in this sense affects all of us as an affliction of the human condition. Inclusive leaders seek out opportunities to contribute to the solution. “I've not had the chance” isn't an acceptable battle cry.

All of that said, there will be some who may appreciate the message but struggle with Brown's direct writing style. Readers need to see it. There will be some who welcome some differences but struggle to accept others. Brown argues that those readers may be in the “unaware” stage of the continuum. As such, this text is a suitable first step on the path from unaware to aware.

“The Wasteland” is amazing. I've read it several times and I still don't understand it, but I find something new and even more amazing every time I read it.

It took me almost two years to finish this collection, given my forays into professorship and parenthood. It was the first bit of King's fiction I have read in several years. It didn't disappoint.

I picked up this particular collection to finally read the basis for one my favorite films, The Shawshank Redemption. The movie stuck closely to the story, and I'll admit I like the elements of the story that didn't make it to film. I also find myself unbothered by the liberties taken by the screenplay. I wish I could say the same for The Body and Stand by Me, but it's simply been too long since I've seen that film. Admittedly, I have not watched Apt Pupil, but I was familiar with the plot. That left the final tale as the one that was completely new to me.

The Breathing Method was a terrific story, but I felt it needed a little more (i.e., explore the club idea) or a little less (i.e., leave the club out entirely). Still, I read it with a sort of recklessness that a piece of fiction has not triggered in me for years.

Of course, I recommend this one.

Though not a disaster book per se, Heat Wave: A Social Autopsy of Disaster in Chicago fits right alongside many of the best scenario/incident-specific disaster books out there. This book doesn't have the narrative flair of, say, Five Days at Memorial, but it is equally poignant and very telling as to what makes an extreme weather event a “disaster.”

The ingredients for disaster are all around us, and they're woven into the fabric of our communities. The age and maintenance status of infrastructure systems is known. Ditto the differences in experience of urban and rural communities. And while “social vulnerability” is another known ingredient, Klinenberg helps us to realize that there's more to it than just dropping people into social vulnerability buckets: age, poverty status, transportation access, race, etc.

How do social vulnerability variables interact and overlap?

Who are these people, and what type of support do they really need?

What can a public sector entity do?

As you read Heat Wave, you can't help but think about the evolution of the modern community. The patterns of interaction, in/out migration, spatial need, etc., that built our cities aren't the patterns that prevail today. To be connected means something in today's world that was unfathomable when the primary way to be connected was by being in touch with (and often close to) family or being outside in your neighborhood. When you think of that, what makes a neighborhood? The physical has long given way to the notional. And with that, a need to re-envision physical spaces emerges.

Growing up and living in a rural area (albeit one with a robust enough transportation infrastructure to be within striking distance of several cities), I've always been fascinated by the pockets of community that exist in cities. My hometown wasn't big enough to have physical areas settled by immigrants from common areas of the world. It's in those pockets where place and personal identity are intertwined, and though in another space I could list the many things that are great about small communities, that place attachment is just different in cities. Heat Wave dissects that notion and prods us to look at the preparedness, response, and resilience implications.

Finally, what review written in 2023 would be complete without a nod to the themes from the book that we say play out during the COVID-19 pandemic? Widespread denial, fact bending, framing, definitional smoke and mirrors, scapegoating, deflecting...should we be comforted or abhorred that none of that stuff was new and unique to the pandemic?

Klinenberg is most successful at helping his readers question “What is a disaster?” Considering the social fabric of a community is an important step at understanding how a disaster might unfold in one's community.

After receiving numerous recommendations to read this and hearing countless references to it, I finally set about reading The Seven Habits when asked to serve as a mentor to a doctoral student at my university. I took my time, really wanting to understand the basis of the habits and to determine their utility in my own development as a leader, father, husband, business owner, etc.

What first struck me was the breadth of each chapter. Not that I expected a quick-read self-help book, but I now understand why people return to this one again and again. There's simply no way to absorb it all upon one reading.

As expected, it's well-written and connects across several dimensions. Self-help? Check. Leadership development? Check. Living faithfully in the world? Yep.

My version included commentary from Sean Covey with each chapter. I enjoyed those writings, as they show how The Seven Habits evolve and how they play for others.

Overall, I wouldn't label myself a Covey disciple, and from what I gather in the reading, that's good because it wasn't the author's intent. I've gained another tool for questioning things and for framing my relationships with others.

Consider Morrison redeemed in my book.

Disclaimers: I am a fan of the bat. A very good friend of mine is a fan of Grant Morrison. This friend gave me a copy of Batman and Son for my birthday in 2013. Batman: The Black Glove nearly turned me off of the Morrison Batman run.

Now that all of that is out of the way, allow me to connect the dots. When I started to get into comics, I turned to my friend Lloyd (who has loved comics for as long as I've known him) for a little guidance. We decided to read a couple of titles together and talk about them (because we're both literary nerds) and I asked for suggestions on the Batman series. Lloyd spoke highly of Grant Morrison and his run with the character and, as noted, gifted me a copy of Batman and Son, which I really enjoyed. As such, I went on to pick up a copy of Batman: The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul and ultimately Batman: The Black Glove. The “resurrection” book was terrific and I was very much looking forward to “glove”. As I've come to realize, however, I like my Batman as largely a solo artist, and the first half of the “glove” is anything but that. The overly comical nature of the sidekicks and partners in “glove” - while well-written - left me wanting.So...not wanting to bale without giving Morrison's run a thorough chance, I moved on to Batman R.I.P.. I'm glad I did. RIP takes the themes that were initially developed at the end of “glove” and makes them highly entertaining. We all know (even if it is deep down), that Bruce Wayne is a little psychotic (or how else would he be the Batman?) and RIP puts the reader a little closer to that reality. I loved the way Morrison explored the notions of madness. Who is the true madman? Is it the Joker, who is depicted with a renewed “sinister-ness” who admits to only toying with people to see what they'll do? Or is it the Batman, who will subject himself to near-death conditions just to try to understand his foe? Perhaps the heroes need to be just as crazy as the villains.Bruce Wayne/Batman is the ultimate tragic figure. His is a life of great loss and that loss continues in RIP. His latest love interest turns out to just be playing him. (I should admit, though, that I thought the character of Jezebel Jet could have been better developed in “glove” and RIP.) By ridding Gotham of its super villains, Bruce robs himself of the ability to sustain meaningful relationships (with anyone other than Alfred). Bruce is, in effect, in a relationship with Gotham City and it's destined to fail miserably.So it's on to the next in Morrison's run with a vigor that didn't exist after “glove”. For that - and for the love of the bat - I am grateful.

This was the first biography I had read in years. It did not disappoint. Chernow's writing offered a connection with the subject, and he made Grant seem like someone who would sit next to you in the quiet corner of a library and narrate some of his more harrowing experiences. I appreciated the detailed exploration of more than just his Civil War and Presidency periods. The chapters discussing the Mexican War and his travels abroad following his presidency were interesting and worthy inclusions.

While any biography of Grant would be incomplete without reference to his drinking, Chernow takes an almost obsessed approach to highlighting Grant's triumph over the vice, and he uses the alcohol rumors to nearly vilify Grant's opponents. The tone of the drinking refrains grew more didactic and gruff as the narrative progressed. In some instances, the return to drinking stories jarred the flow of the tale.

To date, I have really enjoyed going back and reading Grant Morrison's run on Batman. Batman and Son and The Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul were terrific reads. The insert of The Clown at Midnight was the perfect prose insert to a graphic novel. But The Black Glove was difficult for me.

I tend to like the solo Batman, the one that gets deep into his detective work. While I realize that Robin and a number of other sidekicks are (and have been) central to the story line through the years, those characters don't resonate nearly as well with me as Bruce Wayne/Batman, Alred, and Commissioner Gordon. So when I begin this graphic novel with Damian/Robin traveling to some island to meet a band of superhero buddies of Batman's....a tough sell nonetheless.

The tough sell continued throughout all of the first half of Batman: The Black Glove. It wasn't until we got off of the island and starting delving a little into Batman's psyche that this one turned around a bit. I have enjoyed Morrison's writing on Batman enough that I'll look forward to the next edition of his arc, but Batman: The Black Glove makes me do so with trepidation.

So many people consider this one of the “standards” in the field of leadership. I may be a little short-sighted, but I just missed it. The book is well-written and easy to understand. Many of the individual points that Gardner makes are poignant.

Overall, though, this book feels dated to me. Not dated in the sense of its stature as a foundation for contemporary research, but dated as in out of touch.

Not at all possible in the realm of reality, but that's Dean Koontz for you. This is a good read. Good story...very entertaining.

What started out as a continued effort to bone up on the classics turned into a labor of...well, something. Overall, I found “The Republic” to be interesting and, in some ways, surprisingly relevant to today. Of course, the book is an ancient Greek text, so there were many aspects that have not aged well. That said, this one should still remain on the to-read lists for those with a desire to be well-read.

I'll focus on the positive in this review. Plato called for a certain authenticity throughout the text, and I found that interesting as an aspect of the ideal State. Put differently, the State functions most effectively when there is a congruence between education, training, and (ultimately) skill. In the latter books, Plato distinguishes between the creator, the user, and the imitator, and while there is honor in being a creator or user, he shows disdain for the imitators. I am a lover of poetry, so I'll admit my own disappointment at seeing the poet cast out of the State, but with that aside, I understand Plato's skepticism of imitation.

I vividly remember the introduction to a high school literature lesson on the Allegory of the Cave, and I was glad to find it in “The Republic.” (I admit not remembering this text as its source, just as I admit not remembering the rest of the lesson nearly as vividly as the introduction.) In that lesson, the teacher asked us to sketch how we interpret the scene. As I read the passage, I couldn't help but Google the allegory, and while my teenage sketches were different than what I found, I see the similarities between my interpretation and those on many websites. What stands out as most salient to my adult self is the notion that those in the cave come to learn what they are shown. Who determines the shape of the shadows? A derivative of that question should be on all of our minds in today's world. Whose shadows am I being fed? How do I know I trust those shadows?

Plato's advocation for a lifelong pursuit of knowledge was noteworthy. Calling on a person to immerse themselves fully in this pursuit, even as the focus of those pursuits evolves as one ages, was aspirational. Of course, modern day readers would question the content of that learning - i.e., the pursuit of philosophy for the purpose of legislation - but the spirit was there all the same.

I stated I'd focus on the positive, and so I did. However, no review of “The Republic” would be complete without at least acknowledging its issues.
- The text assumes a level of communitarian with which modern readers would likely be uncomfortable. A complete relinquishment of one's children, spouse, property, etc. can hardly be considered ideal by today's standards.
- The suggestion of eliminating those children which would not likely thrive is (and probably was) abhorrent.
- The detail as to the training and lifestyle of the warriors is noteworthy, but what of the husbandmen?
- The complete alignment of the individual and the State, such that the philosophical constructs are nearly one in the same would yield a level of homogeneity that would be, at best, unproductive and, at worst, genocidal.

Again, I maintain that “The Republic” is a worthy read, both for its lofty ideals as well as the cautions about which it warns us.

Just like The Leadership Challenge, Kouzes and Posner fill Learning Leadership with practical, hands-on leadership applications. This book falls a little short of The Leadership Challenge though, simply because it feels, at times, redundant.

I used this book as part of a graduate course on leadership at the university level. Along with my students, I felt the book really found its footing in the last two sections. The material toward the end felt more like a conversation between authors and reader - a mentor/mentee type of discussion. This feels like when Kouzes and Posner are in their element.

I appreciated the self-coaching actions at the end of each chapter. Upon completing the reading, these actions could spur an entirely different opinion of the book over time should they be integrated into one's personal leadership development.

This book became far more difficult to finish that I expected. I was excited to read it, had heard good reviews of it from colleagues, loved the title, etc. Unfortunately, it just didn't land for me.

This review is also more difficult than it should be to compose. It's hard to say that the book is fine, but I didn't care much for it!

I don't mean that as a criticism of the author or editor. The book is well-written and presented, and the language is accessible and effective. It is, though, a book for a targeted audience. I've led an organization for nearly 20 years, and I often tell people I'm the most reluctant entrepreneur one could meet. I enjoy reading management books because (a) I'm a little strange, and (b) it's an area where I feel like I can always improve. In that sense, there's nothing new in the pages of Radical Candor that I haven't read before. There are some excellent take-away snippets (like the “Get Stuff Done” Wheel and the chapter on improving meetings), and the overall theme of communicating development feedback continually is common yet continues to be good advice.

The problem for me is what feels like the unintended target audience: those with tech leadership proclivities. I'm not particularly enamored with Silicon Valley. The tech is fine, and the innovations of the past several years have enriched my life (as with everyone else). While I appreciated Scott's personal stories, and I understand that her experience is going to color the book with the Silicon Valley hue, it became difficult for me not to read this as an entreaty to “Just copy tech companies and experience success.” There's more to it, of course, and the Scott tries to convey that.

So I rate this one with three stars - straight down the middle. I suspect others will read it and love it, just as I suspect others will have a strongly negative reaction. I can think of a few people within my circles who would likely connect with it and derive substantial benefit; I'll recommend it to them without hesitation. For me, the material was fine, but it didn't convey much impact, and as such, I don't anticipate rereading this one in full.

Vale and Campanella provide a series of essays exploring what it means to “recover” from disaster. The reader may glean several best practices and lessons learned. Most salient to this one was the reminder that recovery cannot be judged solely by the physical (e.g., rehabilitation of the building stock). Recovery includes a psycho-social element and to overlook it is to do a severe disservice to those impacted by disaster.

The text explores a fanciful notion that cities are inherently resilient, yet simultaneously resist resilience. History is replete with examples of cities that have built back, which implies resilience on a grand scale. However, can the return of the city be attributed to resilience or does it say more about the options available to those impacted. Home is home and it is difficult to leave home behind, no matter the circumstances. Residents may understand that it would be beneficial to relocate, yet find their options limited. Regulations and politics hinder building back “better.”

The writers anthologized in the book seemingly converge around the theme that a city is more than its buildings. Cities are their people and, as such, all of the emotions, attachments, etc. those people carry with them.

I had always heard about Machiavelli's writings but, up until now, never read them. Truth be told, I probably wouldn't have if not for my leadership degree program, but I'm glad I did. Some might consider it ruthless, degrading to women, etc., but you have to consider the time in which it was written. The basic message throughout the book is that the prince (i.e. leader) must be [b:ready for anything 2581 Ready for Anything 52 Productivity Principles for Work and Life David Allen http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1161107581s/2581.jpg 6547] and able to conform to/manipulate any situation. Pretty hefty task, but Machiavelli is on point when he claims it necessary.

I've never been a fan of children's books, and though this likely falls more under the category of “young adult,” through the years, I've still not been inclined to pick up these types of titles. Yet, being an emergency manager and crisis leadership academic, I couldn't resist checking out the back cover while in the book store. For kicks, I bought it (thinking it might be something my daughter might eventually like to read since she's shown an interest in what I do for a living). I read it in a day, and it turns out, I enjoyed it!

Tarshis does a good job of weaving a narrative around the historical events. It reminds me of the many behavioral scientists I've read who emphasize the need for a story to drive home facts and figures. Of course, this is hyperbolized fiction, but the story resonates in similar ways. I also love the fact that the author includes a brief section in the back of the book with other sources to read and more straight-forward factual information about the event in question. I chose the eruption of St. Helens because it happened on my second birthday. However, given my experience in researching events like 9/11, Hurricane Katrina, and the Joplin tornado, I look forward to reading those titles. Stories are important, yes, but not at the expense of the facts. As such, there's connection and the opportunity to learn. Well done, Lauren Tarshis!

Kind of corny...