New Books Network

How did French colonial administrators, missionaries, and different groups of Africans interact with one another in colonial Senegal? In her new book, Faith in Empire: Religion, Politics, and Colonial Rule in French Senegal, 1880–1940 (Stanford University Press, 2013), historian Elizabeth Foster draws on a wealth of archival material to reveal the interests and negotiations of key powerbrokers in the colony from the end of the nineteenth century through the first half of the twentieth. Emphasizing the heterogeneity of French rule and the significance of local agency in its various forms, Foster interrogates the relationship between métropole and colony while exploring a religious landscape in Senegal that included French, African, and métis Catholics; Muslims; and animists. The book’s chapters explore a variety of fascinating themes and events, from a scandal involving a nun accused of becoming pregnant in 1886, to the trial of an African accused of murdering a Wolof agent of the French empire, to the impact of the First World War and the Popular Front in colonial Senegal. Rethinking French republicanism, laicité, and assimilation in their colonial manifestations during the Third Republic, Faith in Empire has much to offer readers interested in debates about the imperial past and its legacies; historical and contemporary struggles over secularism; and the complicated relationship between religion and politics in France.

Americans seem to be more concerned about economic inequality today than they have been in living memory. The Occupy Movement (“We are the 99%”) is only the most visible sign of this growing unease. But what are the dimensions of inequality in the United States? How have they changed over the past century? Are we living in a new Gilded Age in which the poor are getting poorer and the rich are getting richer? In his “book” (it’s really an innovative website) Growing Apart: A Political History of American Inequality (Institute for Policy Studies, 2013), Colin Gordon sets out to answer these questions. Using an interesting array of charts, graphs, and videos, Gordon tells the story of inequality in the U.S. in modern times. Gordon shows that in recent decades the poor have been getting relatively poorer and the rich have been getting relatively richer. The “gap”–already considerable–is growing. In this interview we discuss growing inequality and the reasons behind it. We also touch on what is perhaps the most important question in the debate: does inequality as it is found in the U.S. really matter economically, spiritually, and politically?

At the dawn of the twenty first century, the music business looked forward to its sixth decade of monopolistic dominance of the sale and manufacture of recorded music. An industry that once had dozens of labels competing for consumer dollars had become, thanks to a series of mergers, controlled by a small handful of international conglomerates by the late nineties. Similar trends had played out in the commercial-radio and concert industry sectors of the industry. The net result was massive profits for these multinational corporations, and rising prices for compact discs and concert tickets for consumers. Yet as Chicago Tribune music critic Greg Kot ably and acerbically shows in his page-turning Ripped: How the Wired Generation Revolutionized Music (Scribner, 2009) the landscape of the industry had been utterly transformed within a decade. In 1999, the introduction of the Napster peer-to-peer file sharing service made it possible for anyone with an Internet connection and a computer to download and create a huge music library, all without paying a cent to artists or their labels. The creation of such digital networks also allowed artists to market and sell their music directly to consumers, thereby bypassing the industry’s label system. This digital revolution likewise rendered compact discs, once the driver of industry profits, on the path to obsolescence and made the iPod as essential to music consumption as the phonograph had been for much of the twentieth century. Through his illuminating interviews with key figures drawn from all sectors of the industry, Kot skillfully makes sense of this dizzying era of change, one that has seen long established notions of copyright, profit, and creativity in the music business all called into question. Greg Kot has been the Tribune‘s music critic covering pop, rock, and hip-hop since 1990. He is the author of three other books, including Wilco: Learning How to Die (Three Rivers Press, 2004), and hosts the nationally syndicated radio program Sound Opinions, “the world’s only rock ‘n’ roll talk show,” which can be heard on over one hundred stations nationwide. His next book, I’ll Take You There: Mavis Staples, the Staple Singers and the March up Freedom’s Highway, will be published by Scribner in January 2014. He can be reached through his personal blog, gregkot.com, and via Twitter @gregkot.

Nicco Mele  is the author of The End of Big: How the Internet Makes David the New Goliath (St. Martin’s Press, 2013). He is Adjunct Lecturer in Public Policy at the Kennedy School’s Shorenstein Center on the Press, Politics, and Public Policy, Harvard University. Mele writes as a technology expert and as a witness to history. He served as a campaign staffer for the Howard Dean for President Campaign in 2003. He and his colleagues implemented many of the web-based campaign innovations that resulted in President Obama winning the 2008 presidential election and define the modern American political campaign. Mele links that experience with radical social changes brought about by the internet. His title thesis, The End of Big, suggest that big institutions in nearly every sector of our lives (business, government, news) have been eroded and, in some cases, supplanted by smallness. An enthusiast for technology, Mele also cautions against the risks associated with this transformation.

What do you do if you accompany a friend on her research trip to Boston University’s Gotlieb Archival Research Center and end up finding a treasure trove of letters, news articles, hand written notes, and original drafts of nonfiction by one of your favorite authors? Keith Clark wrote a book. A truly insightful and wonderful one on the known but understudied Ann Petry. The title? The Radical Fiction of Ann Petry (Louisiana State University Press, 2013). Those familiar with the work of Petry probably know her mid-century, naturalist novel The Street and probably place among the likes of Richard Wright. However, Clark expands our notion of Petry’s work, takes us on a journey that shows her work within other traditions, such as gothic, modernism and realism. He also shows her as a politically active figure, even writing letters to presidents. This book is a must read for any interested in any of the topics Clark undertakes, since he handles each with care, deft, and discernment. He’s equally loquacious and informative during our interview. Please, listen in.

Zograscope. Say it with me: zograscope. ZooooOOOOOoooograscope. There are many optical wonders in Maki Fukuoka’s new book The Premise of Fidelity: Science, Visuality, and Representing the Real in 19th-Century Japan  (Stanford University Press, 2012), the zograscope not least among them. The book opens with Fukuoka’s account of stumbling upon a manuscript of a botanical work called the Honzo shasin (1826) while on a trip to Leiden to see a Japanese zograscope, a device that enhanced the sense of depth when looking through it at otherwise flat pictures. Much of the book centers on the history and work of a small community of nineteenth-century scholars called the Shohyaku-sha, the group that produced the Honzo shashin and were interested in the study of materia medica. This focused case study allows Fukuoka to simultaneously stay anchored while opening up to an expansive history of transformations in modes of understanding visuality and evidence of knowledge of the natural world in Tokugawa Japan. As the book guides readers through the changing meanings of the word shashin, a term used to mean “photography” in contemporary Japanese, it demonstrates how knowledge of the spheres of textual knowledge, visual illustration, and physical plant specimens mutually reinforced one another while practitioners of the visual arts sought to define and secure relationships of “fidelity” among these very different media. This fundamentally trans-disciplinary book offers much of interest to historians of East Asia, of science, and of art: histories of public exhibitions, of natural history, of photography, of anatomical dissection, of translation and typography, and much more can be found within the pages of The Premise of Fidelity. And if I haven’t already mentioned it, there’s also a zograscope. What more reason would you need to read it?

Contemporary baseball seems like a big city game. Major League Baseball does not have a Green Bay Packers, a small-market team that can contend with the big shots. As David Vaught reminds us in The Farmer’s Game: Baseball in Rural America (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013), however, baseball has rural roots. Stepping back into 19th century Cooperstown and moving through Texas, California, Minnesota, and Farm Life, North Carolina (home of Gaylord Perry), Vaught documents the deep cultural resonance of baseball for country people up through the present day, with the resurgence of “vintage baseball.” This book does not deny the vitality of city ball, but it insists that recent attention to urban baseball has obscured both the rich history of its country cousin and the special place baseball holds in the hearts of America’s farmers.

Before the Second World War, very few Americans visited psychologists or psychiatrists. Today, millions and millions of Americans do. How did seeing a “shrink” become, quite suddenly, a typical part of the “American Experience?” In his fascinating book Shrink: A Cultural History of Psychoanalysis in America (Nebraska University Press, 2013), Lawrence R. Samuel examines the arrival, remarkable growth, and transformation of psychoanalysis in the United States. As Samuel shows, Americans have a kind of love-hate relationship with their “shrinks”: sometimes they love them and sometimes they loath them. The “shrinks” seem to know that their clients are fickle, and so they “re-brand” their technique with some regularity. Sometimes it’s “analysis,” sometimes it’s “therapy,” sometimes it’s just “counseling.” But, regardless of what it’s called, it’s always some variation on the “talking cure” and it can always be traced to Freud.

It’s getting warmer, there ain’t no doubt about it. What are we going to do? Most folks say we should cut back on bad things like carbon emissions. That would probably be a good idea. The trouble is we would have to cut back on all the good things that carbon emissions produce, like big houses, cool cars, and tasty food imported from far-away places. We don’t want to do that.   So what’s a global citizen to do? One idea is to take control of the environment, engineering-wise. Why cut back when we can simply manage the carbon-cycle a bit like we manage the climate in hothouses? In Earthmasters: The Dawn of the Age of Climate Engineering (Yale UP, 2013), Clive Hamilton surveys the proposals big-thinking engineers have dreamed up to control the carbon-cycle on a truly massive scale. Some are wacky, others less so, but all are, well, very bold. Does any of it make sense? Can any of it be done? Hamilton investigates.

Anyone who studies police corruption will be aware of the Knapp Commission that examined allegations of police corruption in New York City in the 1970s. Not only was this famous because of the movie Serpico, but also most of the terminology used in corruption studies of police came from the report of the commission. Michael F. Armstrong was the chief counsel to the commission and this book is a history of the formation and operation of the inquiry. Holding a major commission of inquiry is not something that is done routinely. In his own words, Armstrong says they “fumbled” along working out how one discovers, let alone investigates corrupt police. They Wished they were Honest: The Knapp Commission and New York City Police Corruption (Columbia Press, 2012)reads like an extended episode of The Wire, combining political elements with investigative planning and transcripts of surveillance recordings of bribe negotiations. It is very revealing of the nature of corruption that existed at the time. The book follows some key from Xavier Hollander, the Happy Hooker, through small time corrupt officers (grass eaters) through to hardcore predatory corrupt police (meat eaters). Not only does Armstrong provide an entertaining history of the inquiry but he reveals the full gamut of social forces that make such inquiries difficult to implement successfully. Police corruption is an essential factor in any form of large scale illicit activity, be it prostitution, gambling or drugs. Police have a service to sell, namely protection, and there are many illegal operators who are willing to pay for it to ensure their business runs without interruption. While the Knapp Commission happened 40 years ago, the corruption still exists at varying levels in all communities. Armstrong’s book helps us understand how and why it happens and, especially, how difficult it can be to stop.

The poems in Katy Didden‘s debut The Glacier’s Wake (Pleiades Press, 2013) are civilized and dignified and so are their surfaces: sophisticated soundscapes, pitch-perfect diction, a humane voice. And in The Glacier’s Wake, we do, in fact, encounter poems that exhibit a high-level of competency as it relates to craft. And it’s certainly true that someone who devotes time and energy and improves their skills is indeed involved in a virtuous endeavor. Dedication to poetic craft, however, is not only a bulwark against vice, but almost always a sign that a poet is using craft to veil a great suffering, and I sense Katy Didden’s poems are doing exactly that. Didden’s technical abilities have less to do with a deference to tradition, but have to do with a more urgent obligation – protecting both the reader and the poet from her grave interior life, which is one of the most generous gestures a poet can make. We flourish in her poems because the poet protects us from her. But so adamant and gigantic are the poet’s ideas and feelings, it doesn’t seem like an accident that Didden uses as her primary metaphor, as a counter-force to her crushing sensitivity, our planet’s geological history and Earth’s around-the-clock mysterious behavior, juxtaposed with her own miniscule performance in the world. Time and time again, Didden cannot help but see our lives informed and humiliated by the mindless movements of the Earth, movements we are designed to desire to understand, yet we are ultimately barred from really knowing: can we ever know what it feels like to be a glacier, a wasp, a sycamore? It’s as if The Glacier’s Wake is Didden’s pact with nature, but what would nature want with us her poems simultaneously seem to acknowledge. Nature out-performs us all the time her poems show. It lives and dies and lives again, while we modest creatures go about our lives – then gone. And despite always being present throughout the book, the natural world isn’t capable of caring for us because it doesn’t need us. All it does is hand down decrees. But if we are destined to be both connected to and alienated from the planet’s vast environmental drama, Didden attempts to resolve this trauma by celebrating the very brute force that ignores us by employing the language of science – as if, by doing so, calling a momentary truce with indifference, or that the syntax of science is a sort of offering – but then she has a completely opposite impulse: to attack attack attack, which is to say sing sing sing with the language of poetry, which is to say the language of the heart is for Didden a sort of death for death itself.

Christopher Browning is one of the giants in the field of Holocaust Studies.  He has contributed vitally to at least two of the basic debates in the field:  the intentionalist/functionalist discussion about when, why and how the Germans decided to annihilate the Jews of Europe, and the question of why individual perpetrators killed. His new book, then, seems like something of a departure.  Remembering Survival: Inside a Nazi Slave Labor Camp (W. W. Norton, 2010), examines the labor camp at Starachowice, Poland.  Starting before the Nazi invasion, Browning tracks the members of the Jewish community in the region throughout the war, from their  initial encounters with Nazi presence through their deportation to Auschwitz  to their eventual return (or not) to their homes after the war.   The book engages deeply questions of survival, resistance and community and family in the life of the Jewish captives. But, as Browning suggests during the interview, the book is really a continuation of his previous strategy of using case studies to shed light on questions of broad significance.  This time, by studying a labor camp, Browning is able to examine both the captives and those wo held them prisoner.  The result is  every bit as rich as his previous work. Browning speaks as carefully and thoughtfully as he writes.  We talked both about the story he tells in the book and some of the methodological issues he confronted in writing it.   There’s more in the book than we could get to in an hour.  I hope you’ll listen to the interview and then go out and read the book.

The American penitentiary model began as not merely a physical construct, but as a philosophical and religious one. Prisoners were to use their time in silence and isolation to contemplate their crimes/sins and to pursue God’s grace. Alexis de Tocqueville’s trip to America began not as a study of American democracy, but of its prisons, though he would go on to write about both arguing that arguing that American social reformers were beginning to view prisons as the “remedy for all of the evils of society”. As with many of his other observations Tocqueville was both accurate and prescient. Today America has the highest rate of incarceration in the world, more than four times the number of second place contender Russia. Regions like upstate NY that used to rely on logging, dairy farms, and manufacturing now rely on prison jobs for economic stability, while states like Mississippi release prisoners in the thousand because they cannot afford to continue to house them. Private prisons trade shares on the NASDAQ, promising to ‘lock up the profits’ of investors, which often means cutting corners in areas that can actually lead to rehabilitation – prisoner education, job training and substance abuse treatment. Marc Mauer‘s Race to Incarcerate (New Press, 2013) is a graphic exploration of this reality based on his earlier book by the same title. Marc was kind enough to speak with us. I hope you enjoy.

What’s the difference between a fiddle and a violin? What about the difference between a hornpipe and a reel, a hoedown and a breakdown? The answer to the former, of course, is that you don’t spill beer on a violin. For answers to the latter, I point you to Play Me Something Quick and Devilish: Old-Time Fiddlers in Missouri (University of Missouri Press, 2012) where Howard Wight Marshall details the history and intricacies of a style of music that has endured 200 or so years of cultural migrations, regionalisms, taverns, schools, and contests. Marshall tracks the music as it came to America in colonial times with the French, Scottish, and Irish, but was also played by Germans, African-Americans, and Native Americans. He shows the prevalence of the violin among brigades on both sides of the American Civil War, the influence of musical literacy on the upkeep of the fiddling, and the assimilation of fiddle playing with ragtime and jazz in the early 20th century. All-in-all, Marshall’s text offers a comprehensive look at a music that most of us know of, but not about; a music that, though not given its rightful due, can still be heard both in its “pure” form, and also as a component of much contemporary popular music. Howard Wight Marshall is Professor Emeritus in the Department of Art History and Archaeology at the University of Missouri, Columbia. He is the author or editor of several other books including Barns of Missouri.

Claire Roth can’t believe her luck when the owner of Boston’s most prestigious art gallery offers her a one-woman show. Of course, there’s a catch: he asks her to copy a painting. A small price to pay to revive her stalled career, Claire thinks—until she discovers that the painting in question is Degas’s After the Bath, stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum as part of the greatest art heist in history. But as Claire wrestles with her conscience and tackles the Degas, she begins to suspect that the painting is no more “original” than her reproduction. Who forged it, and how has the imitation defied detection for so long? The answers depend on another moral line crossed more than a century ago. The Art Forger (Algonquin Books, 2012) has as many layers as one of Claire’s paintings. Join us as B. A. Shapiro talks about boundaries and choices, forgery and art, celebrity and value, the viewpoint of a visual artist, the trials of publishing and the joys of writing a bestselling novel—and “Belle” Gardner, who once walked lions down a Boston street and shocked the stuffy Brahmins with her low-cut gowns. Note that the present-day portion of The Art Forger takes place in 2011, not in 1991, as mentioned in the interview.