A good book to curl up with while pondering the mysteries of Morpheus.
An eyes-wide-open look at the penumbral world of sleep, where we spend so much of our time without quite knowing why.
“We inhabit a culture that keeps people on the brink of falling asleep and yet inhibits them from doing it properly,” writes McGirr (Things You Get for Free, 2012, etc.), an Australian writer and former Jesuit priest who describes instances of tipping over that brink in the classroom, congregation, and nearly every other place where beleaguered people try to grab a few winks. Blame it on Thomas Edison, who worked 18 hours per day, enjoyed no social life to speak of, and led “a gang of assassins” who “murdered sleep” with his infernal electric lightbulb. However, as the author notes, we had been trying to extract light from darkness long before. In a lively though sometimes too centrifugal cultural history, he explores key moments, venturing the wise observation that “The Odyssey is a book about getting home to bed” and working in personal aperçus redolent of Proustian sentiment: “When I was a child, I often found myself unable to sleep.” If the overarching subject of the book is sleep, its villains are the agents of sleeplessness and irregular sleep: insomnia, nightmares, narcolepsy. On all of these points, McGirr has something interesting to say, and he observes that narcolepsy, though a shadowy ailment, still affects about as many people as Parkinson’s disease and, thus, is more common than we might suspect. Being a sometime Jesuit, the author fits theology into the discussion without much fanfare: “God is a creature of the night” who was content to create darkness first and only later thought to illuminate the scene. And speaking of God, Keith Richards has some catching up to do: though well-known for his three- and four-day bouts of going without sleep, the record-holder, in 1965, went a staggering 11 days without it.
A good book to curl up with while pondering the mysteries of Morpheus.Pub Date: June 6, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-68177-419-0
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Pegasus
Review Posted Online: April 17, 2017
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 1, 2017
Buffs of the Old West will enjoy Clavin’s careful research and vivid writing.
Rootin’-tootin’ history of the dry-gulchers, horn-swogglers, and outright killers who populated the Wild West’s wildest city in the late 19th century.
The stories of Wyatt Earp and company, the shootout at the O.K. Corral, and Geronimo and the Apache Wars are all well known. Clavin, who has written books on Dodge City and Wild Bill Hickok, delivers a solid narrative that usefully links significant events—making allies of white enemies, for instance, in facing down the Apache threat, rustling from Mexico, and other ethnically charged circumstances. The author is a touch revisionist, in the modern fashion, in noting that the Earps and Clantons weren’t as bloodthirsty as popular culture has made them out to be. For example, Wyatt and Bat Masterson “took the ‘peace’ in peace officer literally and knew that the way to tame the notorious town was not to outkill the bad guys but to intimidate them, sometimes with the help of a gun barrel to the skull.” Indeed, while some of the Clantons and some of the Earps died violently, most—Wyatt, Bat, Doc Holliday—died of cancer and other ailments, if only a few of old age. Clavin complicates the story by reminding readers that the Earps weren’t really the law in Tombstone and sometimes fell on the other side of the line and that the ordinary citizens of Tombstone and other famed Western venues valued order and peace and weren’t particularly keen on gunfighters and their mischief. Still, updating the old notion that the Earp myth is the American Iliad, the author is at his best when he delineates those fraught spasms of violence. “It is never a good sign for law-abiding citizens,” he writes at one high point, “to see Johnny Ringo rush into town, both him and his horse all in a lather.” Indeed not, even if Ringo wound up killing himself and law-abiding Tombstone faded into obscurity when the silver played out.
Buffs of the Old West will enjoy Clavin’s careful research and vivid writing.Pub Date: April 21, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-250-21458-4
Page Count: 400
Publisher: St. Martin's
Review Posted Online: Jan. 19, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 2020
An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.
A study of swimming as sport, survival method, basis for community, and route to physical and mental well-being.
For Bay Area writer Tsui (American Chinatown: A People's History of Five Neighborhoods, 2009), swimming is in her blood. As she recounts, her parents met in a Hong Kong swimming pool, and she often visited the beach as a child and competed on a swim team in high school. Midway through the engaging narrative, the author explains how she rejoined the team at age 40, just as her 6-year-old was signing up for the first time. Chronicling her interviews with scientists and swimmers alike, Tsui notes the many health benefits of swimming, some of which are mental. Swimmers often achieve the “flow” state and get their best ideas while in the water. Her travels took her from the California coast, where she dove for abalone and swam from Alcatraz back to San Francisco, to Tokyo, where she heard about the “samurai swimming” martial arts tradition. In Iceland, she met Guðlaugur Friðþórsson, a local celebrity who, in 1984, survived six hours in a winter sea after his fishing vessel capsized, earning him the nickname “the human seal.” Although humans are generally adapted to life on land, the author discovered that some have extra advantages in the water. The Bajau people of Indonesia, for instance, can do 10-minute free dives while hunting because their spleens are 50% larger than average. For most, though, it’s simply a matter of practice. Tsui discussed swimming with Dara Torres, who became the oldest Olympic swimmer at age 41, and swam with Kim Chambers, one of the few people to complete the daunting Oceans Seven marathon swim challenge. Drawing on personal experience, history, biology, and social science, the author conveys the appeal of “an unflinching giving-over to an element” and makes a convincing case for broader access to swimming education (372,000 people still drown annually).
An absorbing, wide-ranging story of humans’ relationship with the water.Pub Date: April 14, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-61620-786-1
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Algonquin
Review Posted Online: Jan. 4, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020
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