The long affair between William Randolph Hearst and Marion Davies was news fodder for much of the 20th century. In Nack’s novel, Marion tells her side.

That story is very well known. William Randolph Hearst was a legendary publishing baron; Marion Davies (nee Douras) came from a middle-class but aspiring family in Brooklyn. Marion’s mother’s mission in life was to see that all four of her daughters married well. Marion exceeded Mama’s wildest expectations but for one small hitch: The man she partnered with was already married. WR’s wife would never agree to a divorce, but while Marion sometimes cheated on WR, in a deeper sense, she was faithful to him to the end (he died in 1951, she 10 years later). We revisit the highlights: her off and on affair with Charlie Chaplin; the mysterious death of Thomas Ince on the aborted cruise to Catalina; her pregnancy and the coverup; and the bombshell that was Citizen Kane. Nack wisely chooses Marion as the narrator, the voice. And her voice is true. She often sounds ditzy, but she really isn’t. She is ambitious and insightful (and, we learn, a very good comic actress) and really loves WR, as frustrating as that so often is. Hearst was born in 1863, so he is more a product of the 19th century than the 20th, and he views Marion as his creature and he as her protector, which of course infuriates her. And as an undercurrent, there is the truly jaw-dropping wealth—the mansions and retreats, the private train cars, the unending parties, the drinking and drugs (Marion was clearly an alcoholic), and the shopping sprees (WR can express his love only through things, from huge bouquets to diamonds). WR loves Marion deeply, but, a man of the 19th century, he is clueless as he patronizes her again and again and sends goons to spy on her. But the mistress—in both senses—of San Simeon was his comfort to the end.

A detailed, moving portrait of a complex woman in a complex life.

A debut memoir reveals a turbulent adolescence.

At first glance, the voyage of Bjorn Johansen and his three daughters from San Diego to the islands of Tahiti in 1975 aboard the Aegir (Norwegian for “lord of the stormy seas”) has all the makings of a standard adventure story. But there is much more beneath the surface that sets this stirring book apart from other renderings of the challenges of adolescence. Nack is the middle daughter, who turned 14 years old right before they set sail, and she cleverly provides a definition of “navigation” in the opening pages because it serves as one of the text’s central metaphors. Her mother, often absent from the action here, struggled with mental illness and substance abuse. The author’s early characterization of her father as “volatile and demanding” is an understatement, as he turns out to be physically, emotionally, and sexually abusive. Thus the inclusion of “Survival” in the subtitle acquires another layer of meaning. In a breathtaking scene, Nack bravely defies her father’s orders and confronts him about the sexual abuse. She writes: “We’d been at sea seventeen days. He was like a lion crouching low, studying his prey. The gazelles eventually get worn down. They cannot be on high alert every moment of the day. Nobody can. I was tired of being scared.” After a series of cultural encounters and harrowing events once they reach their destination, the return voyage involves a different boat and crew. Although the riveting book ends before they make landfall, it is an appropriate moment to reflect on what has happened up to this point. The exhausted crew has just emerged intact from a ferocious two-day storm, which required lots of concerted effort and skilled maneuvering. They’re not there yet, but they are getting close. In keeping with the tone of the project as a whole, this ending, while somewhat abrupt, is powerful and inspiring. Perhaps the only quibble is that Nack leaves readers wanting more.

An engaging account, gripping from start to finish, that should appeal to a wide audience, including sailing enthusiasts.