A marvelously concise yet thorough rundown of an issue with significant geopolitical ramifications.
A comprehensive study of the effects of Agent Orange on Vietnamese victims and the bilateral political attempt to help them.
Between 1961 and 1970, the United States military sprayed more than 10,000-square miles of Vietnam—and more than 5 million acres of farmland—with the herbicide known as Agent Orange in an attempt to destroy crops and generate massive defoliation. Agent Orange contained dioxin, a highly toxic compound, to which as many as 4 million Vietnamese and nearly 3 million American service people were exposed. Debut authors Bailey and Son collaboratively furnish a brief but impressively comprehensive synopsis of the medical and political aftermath of Agent Orange’s use. In the wake of the war, both the U.S. and Vietnam were reluctant to publicly discuss the issue, and Vietnam’s own research on the damage wasn’t declassified until the 2000s, making a joint national effort to remedy the situation all but impossible. That all changed in 2006, however, when U.S. President George W. Bush issued a joint statement with Vietnam’s President Nguyen Minh Triet that included the issue as a talking point, breaking the seal of silence that functioned as a barricade to bilateral cooperation. The authors unflinchingly discuss the extraordinary physical and mental effects of Agent Orange, including lung cancer, diminished mobility, and birth defects, based on the most widely accepted epigenetic and epidemiological studies. They also consider the successes and failures of the binational cooperation to assist the victims. Bailey and Son are remarkably knowledgeable about the subject. The former is a public policy analyst who spearheaded the Ford Foundation’s initiative on Agent Orange, and the latter is a medical doctor and toxicologist who served as the director of the Agent Orange Victims Fund at the Vietnam Red Cross. Collectively, the authors’ breadth is remarkable—they even analyze the attempts to pursue legal action on behalf of the victims. Also, they display admirable intellectual restraint, admitting when appropriate the inconclusiveness of the scientific studies causally linking Agent Orange to specific medical maladies.
A marvelously concise yet thorough rundown of an issue with significant geopolitical ramifications.Pub Date: Feb. 28, 2018
ISBN: 978-0-9993413-1-5
Page Count: 242
Publisher: G. Anton Publishing
Review Posted Online: May 23, 2018
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2018
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
From the national correspondent for PBS's MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour: a moving memoir of her youth in the Deep South and her role in desegregating the Univ. of Georgia. The eldest daughter of an army chaplain, Hunter-Gault was born in what she calls the ``first of many places that I would call `my place' ''—the small village of Due West, tucked away in a remote little corner of South Carolina. While her father served in Korea, Hunter-Gault and her mother moved first to Covington, Georgia, and then to Atlanta. In ``L.A.'' (lovely Atlanta), surrounded by her loving family and a close-knit black community, the author enjoyed a happy childhood participating in activities at church and at school, where her intellectual and leadership abilities soon were noticed by both faculty and peers. In high school, Hunter-Gault found herself studying the ``comic-strip character Brenda Starr as I might have studied a journalism textbook, had there been one.'' Determined to be a journalist, she applied to several colleges—all outside of Georgia, for ``to discourage the possibility that a black student would even think of applying to one of those white schools, the state provided money for black students'' to study out of state. Accepted at Michigan's Wayne State, the author was encouraged by local civil-rights leaders to apply, along with another classmate, to the Univ. of Georgia as well. Her application became a test of changing racial attitudes, as well as of the growing strength of the civil-rights movement in the South, and Gault became a national figure as she braved an onslaught of hostilities and harassment to become the first black woman to attend the university. A remarkably generous, fair-minded account of overcoming some of the biggest, and most intractable, obstacles ever deployed by southern racists. (Photographs—not seen.)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1992
ISBN: 0-374-17563-2
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1992
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.
A light-speed tour of (mostly) Western poetry, from the 4,000-year-old Gilgamesh to the work of Australian poet Les Murray, who died in 2019.
In the latest entry in the publisher’s Little Histories series, Carey, an emeritus professor at Oxford whose books include What Good Are the Arts? and The Unexpected Professor: An Oxford Life in Books, offers a quick definition of poetry—“relates to language as music relates to noise. It is language made special”—before diving in to poetry’s vast history. In most chapters, the author deals with only a few writers, but as the narrative progresses, he finds himself forced to deal with far more than a handful. In his chapter on 20th-century political poets, for example, he talks about 14 writers in seven pages. Carey displays a determination to inform us about who the best poets were—and what their best poems were. The word “greatest” appears continually; Chaucer was “the greatest medieval English poet,” and Langston Hughes was “the greatest male poet” of the Harlem Renaissance. For readers who need a refresher—or suggestions for the nightstand—Carey provides the best-known names and the most celebrated poems, including Paradise Lost (about which the author has written extensively), “Kubla Khan,” “Ozymandias,” “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” Wordsworth and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads, which “changed the course of English poetry.” Carey explains some poetic technique (Hopkins’ “sprung rhythm”) and pauses occasionally to provide autobiographical tidbits—e.g., John Masefield, who wrote the famous “Sea Fever,” “hated the sea.” We learn, as well, about the sexuality of some poets (Auden was bisexual), and, especially later on, Carey discusses the demons that drove some of them, Robert Lowell and Sylvia Plath among them. Refreshingly, he includes many women in the volume—all the way back to Sappho—and has especially kind words for Marianne Moore and Elizabeth Bishop, who share a chapter.
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.Pub Date: April 21, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-23222-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Feb. 8, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
© Copyright 2024 Kirkus Media LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Follow
Popular in this Genre
We can’t wait for you to join Kirkus!
It’s free and takes less than 10 seconds!
Already have an account? Log in.
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
Welcome Back!
OR
Sign in with GoogleTrouble signing in? Retrieve credentials.
bookshelf
