Scandalous Women by Elizabeth Kerri Mahon

I kinda pride myself on being a bit ahead of the curve when it comes to knowing things about what I like to call hidden history, a term coined by someone smarter than me for the parts of the past that don't tend to make it into school textbooks, or even the History Channel. I'd like to think I work hard on this, but then I read a book like Scandalous Women, which reminds me that no matter how progressive you might think you are, there's always parts of the historical narrative that only the most dedicated researchers can find.

That's certainly the case with this book, in which Mahon turns her blog into a book, hoping to catch people with this eye-grabbing title and maybe help them learn something. She does so not by trying to be neutral or present people in a good light. Instead, like any good internet writer, this book is filled with snark, pithy remarks (like how Anne Boleyn made King Henry VIII put a ring on it), and a frank discussion of the good and bad traits of her subjects.

The title itself is a bit of a misnomer. While some of these women certainly are notorious, I'm not sure that Amelia Earhart counts as scandalous. Of course, "Women You Should Know" just doesn't have the same ring to it. There is definitely an emphasis on sex in the book, even for those who were not really known for their sexual escapades. While the book seems to chastise the contemporaries of these women for focusing on their bedroom habits, it seems to me that Mahon has, to some degree, done the same thing. It does get monotonous at certain points, especially as the book progresses into 19th and 20th century women, where we know more of their relationship history. I know the idea is to heighten the scandal part of their lives, but sometimes I felt like I was intruding where I didn't belong in reading about their love affairs. Perhaps that's just me.

Where the book shines is in highlighting women who should be in their own spotlight, rather than hugging the shadows of a more famous man, such as Eleanor of Aquitaine or Emiie du Chatelet or even Bolelyn. There are also some interesting women who have similar male analogs who strike me as a lot more compelling, like Boudica or Calamity Jane (whose real story would make a great modern Western) or Ida B Wells-Barnett or the pirate lady team of Anne Bonney and Mary Read.

Some of these women were familiar to me, but others, Wells-Barnett in particular, deserve to have their story told on a wider stage. I'm sure there are biographies for these folks, but we need to get them into the wider consciousness, which means movies or at least a reference in a textbook. What Scandalous Women does well is gives readers a starting point. You could spend years reading about each of these women and not lack for quality material to study. The fact that Mahon did this for a blog, without pay, makes it all the more incredible.

Scandalous Women is very much a modern history book. I appreciate the fresh writing but those looking for a more scholarly approach will be disappointed. If, on the other hand, you want to learn a bit more about women who are just as important in history, such as a contemporary of Rodin that might have been his better or a woman who refused to let getting impaled prevent her from art and lovers, then give this book a try. You might even learn something, and even if you don't, I guarantee you'll be entertained!

An Account of the Battle of Wilson's Creek by R. I. Holcombe

This book is part of my 7-year Civil War Challenge, where I read books relating to the part of the Civil War that is 150 years old. 2011 is 1861.

Not entirely satisfied with the other book I read on Wilson's Creek, I reached out into the public domain of Archive.org and found this text, which is smaller, punchier, and ultimately more effective at giving me the details of the battle that certainly made it seem as if Missouri would be lost to the Union in the Civil War.

This text, which was clearly a source for the newer book, was written in 1883 and spends more time trying to get first person accounts of the battle from those who survived, which is why it is a far more engaging read than the drier, more matter of fact Battle of Wilson's Creek book. Holcombe repeatedly discusses his efforts to find facts from those who were there, and as a result, there is far more editorial commentary and criticism, particularly of General McCullouch's bungling that prevented the South from gaining an even more impressive victory.

As in the other book, it's clear the odds were against Lyon and he died trying to do his best with the crappy situation General Fremont (and to an extent, Lincoln) had placed him. This book posited the idea that had Lyon left the Confederates a way to retreat, he might have even won the battle. I doubt this, given the difference in strength, but it was certainly an interesting idea.

The book itself sometimes slips into breathless prose, but ironically, it has a far more modern feel than history texts written around the middle of the 20th Century. I appreciate the commentary and occasional sarcasm, as it is used quite appropriately and keeps things moving when you are discussing troop formations and whatnot. It is especially fun to see Holcombe condemn those who would mar history with lies. I could have done without a few over the top references to bravery and lost lives, but all in all, this was a quite readable book.

Unfortunately, it's probably not recommendable to anyone. The Archive's version is a very, very bad scan that I had to mentally translate entirely too many times, and it's not on Gutenberg as of yet. If you find this in print form somewhere, definitely grab it. This is an excellent account of a small battle, and the best of the three small engagement books I've read so far for the challenge.

Inventing George Washington by Edward G. Lengel

If there’s one constant in American politics today, it’s that the meaning and intent of the Founding Fathers is as relevant today as it was over two hundred years ago. Possibly no group of human beings has ever been so analyzed as the powerful Pantheon of Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Franklin, Hamilton, and company, save perhaps Abraham Lincoln. No matter how many books are written about these men, it seems we can never truly agree on what they are. Into that fray comes Inventing George Washington, a book that attempts not to define Washington for what he was—but for what he was not.

It’s a novel approach, one that was initially taken by people called “debunkers” (working on the same theory as World War One de-licers), but is handled here in a far more subtle manner than the firebrands of the 1920s whose goal was seemingly to crash every historical figure off their pedestal—particularly the Father of our Country. In Lengal’s hands, the story of Washington after his death is not so much an attempt to make him less of a person but to show that despite being the most recognizable of all presidents, he is also the one that, pretty much from the day of his death in 1799, America knows the least about.

Starting from the early days, Lengel shows that Washington the man was outdone by Washington the myth almost from the get-go. Due to careless handling of his papers and even calculated destruction, it was difficult for any biographer to get a complete picture of the man. What to do? Start making things up. The more honorable the story (The cherry tree, anyone?), the better. Because this became such a cottage industry, everyone from religious zealots to those with political axes to grind would alter the history of Washington to fit their needs, a practice that goes on to this day. Lengel calmly walks through this minefield, pointing out the flaws as he goes.

Was Washington a prude? Not according to the records of the day. Was he a womanizer? That’s wrong, too, says Lengel, showing that extremes are generally wrong in any history of the first president. The same holds for multiple stories of his prayers/baptisms/conversions at Valley Forge, all of which have no historical basis in fact but are often repeated from grade school to grad school. Washington was neither a fervent Christian nor a Deist, showing both sides of this debate to be dead in the water. Similarly, he did love Martha, contrary to conventional wisdom, and was not above flirting, no matter how hard the Victorian prudes tried to paint him as above cares of the flesh.

Some stories included here are already pretty healthily debunked, such as the idea he had a slave love child or the Betsy Ross legend, but others really shocked me. The Quaker Spy story is just that—a story. I admit I was crushed. There’s also more evidence to support a lukewarm Christianity than I’ve seen in the past, though Lengel’s words will not soothe those who feel strongly about the faith of the Founders.

Perhaps the most interesting thing Lengel brings up is that Washington has been exploited for years upon years, and in many cases people prefer the myth to the legend. Everyone from PT Barnum to modern-day psychics have leaned on the power of Washington to make a quick buck, going back to before the days when Washington was even on the diminutive dollar bill. Want proof people prefer story to truth? A completely nonsensical psychic autobiography of Washington outsells many legitimate biographies. Americans know what they like—and it’s not true history.

Working roughly chronologically, Lengel discusses Washington the myth and does his debunking in a mildly sarcastic way, whether it’s to nibble at the edges of popular expectations or to mildly chastise those who are so desperate for a connection to Washington that they believe every Washington slept here story or take family tales for fact. He’s understanding of the need for connection, saving his venom only for the most poisonous or preposterous lies.

As a book, Inventing George Washington is less of a history and more of an un-history, or rather, it’s a history of the kind of inventions Americans are capable of, showing that our penchant for self-deception when it comes to American superiority started from the early days of the Republic and carry on in the words of 2012 presidential candidates. Washington as fact may not be very sexy, but Washington as myth has all the sizzle of a modern day scandal. For a man like Washington, who was very self-conscious, this would be very painful. Luckily for all of us, the one thing we know for sure is that he’s not alive to see it. Those willing to peek under the covers of popular history will definitely find a lot to enjoy in this work. You might even un-learn something!

The Battle of Wilson's Creek by Edwin C. Bearss

This book is part of my 7-year Civil War Challenge, where I read books relating to the part of the Civil War that is 150 years old. 2011 is 1861.

In the early days of the Civil War, generals and troops were mostly raw and unused to their commands or how to properly fight a battle with a large number of troops. Even in a smaller circumstance like the Battle of Wilson's Creek, mistakes were plentiful and based mostly on one part misunderstanding and one part incompetence, with just a hint of inexperience thrown in.

The Battle of Wilson's Creek is the story of an engagement that must have seemed large at the time, but dealt with "armies" that had only about as many men as a typical division would hold at the war's apex in 1863-1864. It's the story of trying to hold Missouri, a border state, in Union hands, when there were quite a few in the state who wished it to go with its slave-holding brethren in the Confederacy. There are hopes and dreams and visions of the war to come, from grand ideas that don't work to ill-equipped soldiers to civilians caught in the middle. Told right, this small battle would be quite the engaging prequel to the bigger battles to come, starting with Shiloh.

Unfortunately, in the hands of Bearss, it's a rather dry read. There's not a lot of human interest included, Bearss opts to keep his own opinions out of the narrative, and troop movements dominate the text. Even the battle descriptions are rather pedestrian and don't seem to capture the horrors of war before anyone really knew what that would come to mean. As a result, I had a very hard time getting a feel for this battle. It felt too clinical in Bearss' narrative.

Generally speaking, this battle was an attempt by the Union commander Lyon to try and do some of the things Stonewall Jackson would later be famous for. Unfortunately, he had neither the subordinates to carry out the job or the ability to make it work. Wilson's Creek is an attempt to surprise a stronger foe, and for a brief time, it works. But as the day wore on and mistakes are made, the almost double Confederate force not only gains a military victory, it has a win in morale as well. After Wilson's Creek, the South takes control of southern Missouri for a time, and the only thing the Union has to show for this debacle are dead and wounded troops.

Who's to blame for all this? Arguably John C. Fremont, the arrogant former presidential candidate who would soon be shipped well away from the war. He leaves Lyon out to dry in the face of an important strategic goal and a superior force. Lincoln also has a hand in the defeat, by obsessing over troop strength in the Virginia corridor and not thinking about winning the war everywhere, an idea that doesn't seem to hit home for another two years.

I know very little about Western Civil War battles, so I enjoyed getting to learn something about a small but key early engagement. That's the point of this challenge, after all. However, given how dense this book felt despite its smaller size, I can't really recommend it to others. I'm hoping there are more interesting books out there that cover western battles, or else this challenge is occasionally going to feel like a forced march.

The Original Curse by Sean Deveney

When I mentioned to a friend of mine, a person with strong Chicago ties, that I was reading this book, he asked an interesting question: Why write this book now? Why read it?

Obviously, no book really needs justification, and no reader needs to explain their reason for reading it, though I suppose I do that every time I get in front of my computer and start a review. However, I think he had an excellent point.

We all know about the Black Sox scandal. Most baseball fans even know that gambling was a bigger deal than just one World Series. A few might go further and name crooked players, starting with the 1919 White Sox team and going all the way to Pete Rose. It's not a proud time for the sport, but in a game with a history going back before the Civil War, there's going to be some blemishes that look terrible at the time but fade in impact as the game moves on.

For me, the thing that makes this book a recommended read for any sports fan is not just the great details about playing baseball in the early twentieth century, when 11 home runs was an amazing feat and a pitcher could throw all eighteen innings of a double header. No, it's the fact that no matter who the men running the leagues are at the time, baseball always has had a problem dealing with trouble.

See if this sounds familiar: In a changing United States economy, the sport of baseball grows more popular than ever, with fans packing the seats of both major and minor league stadiums. Some of these fans don't care much about how they are entertained, and players start to do things they shouldn't in the name of higher monetary gain. Baseball is informed of this problem, but opts to do nothing, shuffling problem players quietly out of the game and doing all they can to quietly discredit (or ignore) those who sound a warning cry.

Only when things are so bad that the court system is involved does baseball make a move, picking certain players to cast to the winds and declaring the game clean, trying to keep the problem as quiet as possible and keep fans in the seats. It's only a few isolated incidents, after all, no need to police the game better or admit there is a wide-ranging problem.

Steroids Era?

Nope, try the early 1920s, when baseball's problem was gambling. Players felt they needed to make more money, and therefore, some (perhaps a lot) turned to bookies, offering to subtly alter the course of a game in exchange for a piece of the action. In The Original Curse, Sean Deveney argues that the year before the Black Sox scandal, angry and disillusioned Cubs players tossed the series to the less-talented Red Sox, giving the 1919 cross-town rivals the idea to do the same thing.

Using sensational ideas, such as that controversial premise and planting Babe Ruth's name on the cover, Deveney hopes to draw the reader into a story that has the real purpose of serving as an allegory for the steroids problem, the drug trials of the 1980s, and baseball's rather weak acknowledgement of its decades-long racism that continued long after Jackie Robinson. It's a cheap tactic, but it worked, because I probably would never have picked this book up if it didn't have Babe Ruth's name at the head of the cover.

What does not work very well, is Deveney's claim that the 1918 shenanigans, promulgated in the shadow of World War I (and this making them even more shameful, as players draft dodged in order to keep making hundreds of times more money than the men--including relatives of mine--who fought and got gassed in the trenches), created the 1919 scandal. His evidence is extremely shaky, and while I think there's a good case that the 1918 series was rigged by the Cubs (thus meaning the aspersion cast on Ruth by the cover is borderline libelous), I do not see how this incident influenced the 1919 White Sox any more than all the other cheating that was going on at a brisk clip.

Ironically, it's the fact that Deveney makes a compelling case that *lots* of games were fixed that undermines what he's trying to prove. It makes me wish he'd changed his focus a bit, but then we'd lose the sexy and marketable title. In this era of competition for shelf space and attention, having a daring cover was more important than matching it to the facts inside, I guess.

Normally when an author misses their primary point, I'd tell you to steer clear of the book. This is an exception, however. The story itself is a strong condemnation of just about everyone involved, from the United States Government, which dithered over baseball's role and caused player uncertainty, to the players who cheated and tried to get out of serving to the owners, who apparently have to sign a "greed" clause when taking over a team. It's the only explanation for the stupidity that dates back at least to World War I and still continues to this say. Think Bud Selig is bad? Despite being a former owner of the Brewers, at least he's never been drunk during a labor negotiation!

While the majority of the book shows that there never was a "good old days" for America's Former Pastime, we can feel for a few players. Grover Cleveland Alexander did the honorable thing and went to war, effectively killing himself in the process. Other players had families and back in 1918, the US didn't care and would still make you serve. Their anxiety makes cheating almost--repeat, *almost*--justifiable.

Filled with little vignettes about important players in this drama, tales of two teams that made the World Series more by attrition than anything else, and some details that are only now coming to light, The Original Curse has a lot going for it, despite the not-very-appropriate title. It won't make Barry Bonds and company any less of a jerk, but at least you'll know they're in good company in the baseball Hall of Shame. At least these 1918 villains are about as far away from Cooperstown as Hawaii. Hopefully, they'll all stay there in the land of infamy where they belong and not move into a different Hall. That would be the biggest shame of all, one that not even years of good baseball could erase.

If you want a good read that proves the more things change, the more they stay the same, this book is for you. I enjoyed it a lot, but be warned: Reading it might make you like professional sports even less than you do now. Sometimes learning the truth does ruin the fun. It's what keeps baseball covering up for its players and owners, both in the history books and in the public eye. That's an original curse I don't think the game will ever shake.

Teaching Books: How to Differentiate Instruction in Mixed Ability Classrooms by Carol Ann Tomlinson

Last year, I started reading teaching books in preparation of starting off in a new direction in my life. Just because I'm actually teaching doesn't mean I stop reading books about it!

As with my past teaching book posts, this is less a review than a summary of ideas. Hopefully, it will help others interested in education with deciding if this is a book that might be helpful for them to read.

If you've ever read or been in a professional development about differentiation, chances are you know the name Carol Ann Tomlinson. She is one of the most well-known authors in the field of adjusting classroom instruction to meet the needs of varied students. In this small solo effort, Tomlinson describes a bit of her reasoning behind differentiation, but focuses most of the book on actual tips that can be taken into the classroom, particularly for those new to the concept of differentiation.

The book is broken down into chapters that provide insight on the process, how to talk to parents about differentiation, classroom management (particularly important due to the fact that not all students will be doing the same thing at the same time), ideas for beginning differentiation, and breaking down what differentiation looks like within the classroom. All of the advice is practical and usable immediately. The ending sections of the book provide ideas and starter hints for taking a boring, one-size-fits-all lesson, and giving it some zing. Anyone looking for ideas on how to take what was mentioned in a one hour session and turn into a living, breathing part of their everyday instruction can find a lot of what they need within this book.

Differentiation is easy to start, but it will take years to master. Even those who are quite good at finding ways to engage students on their level and in their learning preference will find new ideas in How to Differentiate Instruction. There is an unsaid challenge in this book to really look critically at what you do in the classroom. Could you increase student involvement? Can you allow for a varied product? Are you just giving "busy work" to fast finishers when there is so much more to do? This book definitely gets you thinking, unless you are completely cold to the idea of changing how you teach.

I admit, I'm sold on Tomlinson's ideas, so my feelings towards this book are quite positive. However, even if you are leery of going knee-deep in differentiation (you should, though--the water is fine!), there are ideas you can take away from this book. I think it belongs on the bookshelf of every teacher.

Irish Short Story Week Day 1: Oscar Wilde

I'm participating in the Irish Short Story Week, hosted by The Reading Life. Go see this great idea at its source!

While I know that the King of Irish short stories is James Joyce, I felt like if I was only going to have time to maybe do one of these posts, I wanted it to be Ireland's Court Jester of short stories, Oscar Wilde.

Wilde is one of my favorite authors, though I've read precious little of his work. What I have read, however, is spectacular, taking barbs at the society of his day, all while living a life that he had to hide. When his private life tumbled out into the public scene, he was ruined, jailed, and ridiculed. Not one of England's finest hours.

I love Wilde's playful side, which is why I of course chose one of his most serious and religious fairy tales as my short story selection. As we'll see, however, The Selfish Giant still shines with the flourishes of a man at home with words.

For those who want to play along, you can read The Selfish Giant online here. It's legal to do so, and won't take you very long. Even those who aren't keen on reading by screen should be able to manage it. I'll wait till you get back, playing with one of the children in the story.

Back? Good. These kids were starting to tire me out!

The first thing that really jumps out at me is the subtle Christianity of the story, which only comes into focus as the story nears its end. I don't tend to associate Wilde with being a Christian, though I have no particular reason to doubt his faith. Here he shows that you can make a religious story without beating people over the head with the idea of faith. Once our titular giant learns to love his brothers and sisters, he is ready for his heavenly reward. It's a touching way to end the story and even if you are not of the faith, the lesson is clear: Good deeds get rewarded.

What makes the story work for me, however, are the little touches. Wilde's personification of everything from the trees to hail are performed in short, funny strokes that are easy to picture in your mind. (My personal favorite is thinking about Hail, all made up of little stones, running around the garden after dancing on the giant's roof.) Sarcastic lines slip in (the giant is of limited conversation--he can only talk for seven straight years) but they do not keep the overall feeling of the work from being darkened by their barbs. Even the descriptions of the winter menaces are gentle, evoking more of a Disney imagery rather than, say, the angular work of Chuck Jones.

It's the overall story, however, that makes this one notable to me. It's clear that Wilde wants us to think about the haves and the have nots in our own world, and the Biblical instructions to help those who have nothing. Wilde was not blind to the rampant inequalities of his age (which are eerily similar to our own today), and he wants his adult readers to think about how they might be as selfish as the giant in their own lives. I'm sure Ireland's position compared to England had a bit to do with the story's moral as well.

In the end, we have a great tale that works as a fairy tale, a Christian story of charity, and a social commentary. As a bonus, the story is gentle enough for kids but with lines that will make an adult smirk and give readers of all ages something to think about. Wilde does this within just a few pages, making it all the more amazing. As with Shakespeare's plays or Jon Stewart, it can take a Jester to bring the truth to light.

Take that, James Joyce!