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The Demon of Unrest, by Erik Larson

The book’s subtitle points to its main themes: “A Saga of Hubris, Heartbreak, and Heroism at the Dawn of the Civil War.” It is a full saga, though compressed into about five months, with plenty of each of those themes.

The election of Abraham Lincoln in November 1860 began a swirl of events in the North and in the South. In the swirl are successive state secession conventions, polarization of views, and Lincoln’s formation of his cabinet and the long train trip from Springfield to Washington. By April 1861, hostilities have begun.

Along the way we meet a remarkable array of characters. Familiar characters include Lincoln and incoming Secretary of State William Seward, Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis; less familiar are people like Sen./Gov. James Hammond of South Carolina, the secessionist Edmund Ruffin, the diarist Mary Chestnut, Abner Doubleday in military service rather than baseball context, and Allan Pinkerton of detective fame.

Larson takes us back into the decades leading up to 1860 to show the intensification of attitudes for and against slavery and how the hubris of those extreme viewpoints built on each side. Ultimately the extreme abolitionists could not reconcile slavery with union, those on the other side could not reconcile union with slavery, and all discounted the eventual cost of war.

The heartbreak took many forms. Those in the middle ground were dragged to extreme positions by lack of familiarity with other regions, and by political bungling that drove people to opposite extremes. For example, John Brown’s raid on Harper’s Ferry pushed southerners to extreme defense of slavery, while South Carolina’s belligerence to Fort Sumter solidified northern union support. There were many examples of bungling as events built between the election and the inauguration on March 4. Did Lincoln need to enter Washington incognito? How could the battleship Powhatan be dispatched on two different missions? How many telegrams were misinterpreted or summarized to suit a political position? (Telegrams were a relatively new communication technique in 1860, and like e-mails today, lack tone of voice and body language that help convey accurate meaning. They were also subject to interception, non-delivery, and other problems. Letters and messengers were slower, but usually more secure). Decisions, like resupplying Fort Sumter, were delayed past the time when they could have made a difference.

Heroism was shown most clearly in Major Robert Anderson, commandant of Fort Sumter, which was strategically located to control access to the Port of Charleston. He was given ambiguous orders and incomplete information, and inadequate garrison troops and supplies to actually defend the fort. He understood the political implication of surrender, and used judgment and tact to delay his surrender until mid-April, after secession decisions had been made. With 491 pages of text, the book packs a lot of information, but Larson delivers again as a superb story-teller. He gives us a page-turning narrative that holds the attention and still respects the historical record (there are 51 pages of bibliography and notes). The saga provided lots of grist for our discussion, from the depictions of slave markets to artillery techniques, planter society and mentality, and how political positions can be polarized. Even the history-reluctant members of our group enjoyed this saga.

— Bill Smith

How to Read a Book, by Monica Wood

The cover of Monica Wood’s How to Read a Book is warm and inviting, especially to a lover of books and reading. It shows the exterior of a cozy bookstore from the sidewalk, beckoning readers to come on in. What follows is a highly engaging and uplifting story full of quirky and complex characters, difficult situations, emotional highs and lows, growth and redemption, and resilience. Is there a bookstore in the novel? Yes – but there’s so much more!

There’s Harriett, a.k.a. “Bookie,” who runs a book club inside a women’s prison in Maine. She is dedicated to sharing the power of literature with every member of the group, helping them know their worth and express their feelings as they read aloud, react, discuss, write, and make connections to themselves and others. Wood does not sugar-coat their voices as they express powerlessness, rage, longing, resentment, distrust, love and more. We get to know each member of the group as they support one another through a very meager existence.

But if the cover of the book showed a prison, it would not suggest that one of the youngest inmates, 22-year-old-Violet, is suddenly freed at the beginning of the book. In fact, the bulk of the story is arguably hers as she tries to navigate life as an ex-con “on the outs” where she never had a chance to live independently before being locked up. We watch as she goes from a tense reunion with her sister to a chance meeting with Harriett (at the bookstore!) and another fraught reunion with Frank, the husband of the woman she killed in the drunk driving accident that landed her in prison. Through much effort she lands a job for which she has “affinity,” a word that provides fledgling self-esteem, documenting research on talking parrots in a university lab – where the birds themselves are characters, as well as her ill-tempered, manipulative boss.

Perhaps a bird would have made a good cover image, since the birds, too, were captives. And in addition to Violet’s work with the birds, the inmates give a gift of a small, knitted bird to Harriett as a token of their appreciation. She keeps it, though she’s been warned not to accept anything from them, and not without consequence. This repetition of birds seems symbolic, and yet a bird on the cover wouldn’t adequately represent Frank, a third major character who longs for a relationship with Harriett while feeling terrible about his true feelings around the death of his wife. No spoilers, but it’s not what you’d think. In addition, we get to see his rocky relationship with his daughter and his brilliance as a retired machinist-turned-handyman….at the bookstore.

So, maybe the bookstore is the thing that ties everything together and is the best choice for the cover after all. As a member of our group observed, avid readers are drawn to books that have bookstores on the cover, and an avid reader would thoroughly enjoy this book. Also, its marketing had the intended effect. It looked like it would be an easy and enjoyable read, and it was, while still being intricately well-written.

As a bonus, our book club happens to include several people who have spent time volunteering at a women’s prison in Mitchellville, Iowa, as well as providing support to women who have recently been released. While there are some differences between the systems in Iowa and Maine, and it’s clear that some details were added to advance the story (such as Violet being outfitted with a fully stocked apartment upon her release – a lucky break that is very unlikely in reality), their general take was that the overall tone of the prison aspect of this book was spot-on. If any Iowa area readers are so inspired, check out Women at the Well for ways to get involved with helping women who are incarcerated and recently released.

We were glad to have found and read this book, and glad that it left us feeling hopeful. It was also a good reminder of this:

“The line between this and that, you and her, us and them. The line is thin.”

— Julie Feirer

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World, by Robin Wall Kimmerer

This is an exquisite book—112 lovingly designed pages of thoughtful commentary, elegant language, and engaging drawings. It’s essentially an essay packed with a call to reconsider capitalism by injecting it with what Robin Wall Kimmerer calls the gift economy.

The back cover, with a luscious drawing of hands brimming with purple and red fruit, carries the message we’re to take with us: “All Flourishing is Mutual.”

Kimmerer uses a simple springtime fruit, the serviceberry (also called a juneberry, shadbush, wild plum, saskatoon and a litany of other names), as a metaphor for the difference between indigenous beliefs and capitalism. (Kimmerer is a member of the Citizen Potawatomie Nation, professor at the State University of New York’s College of Environmental Science and Forestry, and director of its Center for Native Peoples and the Environment.)

A gift economy, she writes, is built on sharing and recycling. When the serviceberry produces too much fruit for one family, the tradition is to give the remainder to neighbors and friends. In a capitalist approach based on concerns of scarcity, the rest might be hoarded or sold. There is no room in a gift economy for hoarding; great wealth is frowned upon because indigenous societies value reciprocity over accumulation.

It’s a system in which everybody gets a bit of the bounty, nobody goes hungry, but all involved—insects, birds, humans—reciprocate. “Just as all beings have a duty to me, I have a duty to them,” she writes. “If an animal gives its life to feed me, I am in turn bound to support its life. If I receive a stream’s gift of pure water, then I am responsible for returning a gift in kind.”

Kimmerer uses multiple examples of current gift economies, including Little Free Libraries, and the larger public version on which they are based; sites such as Buy Nothing, which digitally connect neighbors who give away household items they no longer need; and recycling stores like The Freestore in Des Moines.

She acknowledges problems in the system, and points to the Tragedy of the Commons, in which those wishing to make a profit take control of community resources. In one case, a neighbor puts up a “free farm stand” full of fresh produce to share, and somebody steals the entire stand. (Kimmerer acknowledges that it was, in all fairness, advertised as free.) In response, an Eagle Scout replaces the stand and organizes other members to build similar structures in their communities.

The book is an easy, pleasant read that allowed us to dip our toes in economic theory, making it accessible and almost fun. It’s an antidote to the greed that is currently the operating philosophy in our government.

— Patricia Prijatel