February 2011

Thaler, Richard H., and Cass R. Sunstein. Nudge: Improving Decisions about Health, Wealth, and Happiness. New Haven: Yale UP, 2008. Print.

This is going to be a truly half-assed review.  I heard about this book through a webcast from Ramit Sethi, the guy behind the blog and book “I Will Teach You To Be Rich”.  It sounded like it would be an interesting look at the psychology behind why people do the things they do, and it really was.  However, I’m not sure I can convince you just how interesting it was.

I have found myself using the concepts in the book almost daily; thinking about, for instance, the difference between the “Planner” and “Doer” sides of my personality, and how I consistently thwart myself.  They talk about choice architecture – how setting things up can affect what people choose – and how their concept of “libertarian paternalism” can help governments and organizations set things up in such a way that the default choice is a good one, although people are never stuck with the default.

For anyone who is interested in why people know they should lose weight, exercise more, and save more money, but are baffled why we as a society don’t do these things, this is a fascinating (if somewhat depressing) read.

I know I will remember, and want to refer again, to the study where a high school changed their graduation requirements to include at least one application to a community college.  However, I can’t find it now!  Fortunately I’m pretty sure to read the book again.

There is a 20-page bibliography that I do not have the stamina to enter, although I would love to.

Grow, Lawrence. Classic Old House Plans: Three Centuries of American Domestic Architecture. Pittstown, NJ: Main Street, 1984. Print.

I’ve been looking for books of old house plans, in an effort to understand the original room functions of our 1913 3-up, 3-down farmhouse.  This book seemed to have good potential, especially when I read the preface, which said “Little attention is paid to… the commonplace”, and he promises to address that.  The first couple of buildings were neat, with not just floor plans, but elevations and sections too.  I couldn’t help but notice that the next two houses were, well, pretty grand… and on page 28 I threw down the book in disgust when I saw the house included a ballroom!  Apparently Grow’s ideas of “the commonplace” are still not as down to earth as mine.

The chapter on Gothic Revival was interesting as usual, but I’ve already read the original Downing book that his example came from, so there was nothing new for me.

Oddly, there is no bibliography.  Also no index.

Sedaris, David, and Ian Falconer. Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: a Modest Bestiary. New York: Little, Brown, and, 2010. Print.

I picked this off the “Best Bets” shelf at the library, thinking that getting through the small volume in a week would be no problem. I’ve enjoyed Sedaris before, notably Me Talk Pretty One Day, and looked forward to a new installment of his humour.

I read about half of it the first evening, but had to put it down – although it is funny, it’s more wry and sad than belly-busting.  Normally his essays have me literally laughing out loud, but when I got to one essay where a woman saved her dog from a fire instead of her son, I thought I was going to cry instead.  (Yes, I know it’s fiction.  Yes, I cry easily.)

I did finish it the night before it was due back.  I may try it again some other time to see if it me or the writer that made it not funny this time, but I may just focus my time on the other deserving books out there I haven’t read once yet.

Beckwith, Lillian. An Island Apart. New York: St. Martin’s, 1994. Print.

I read this almost immediately after The Bridges of Madison County, not exactly by accident.  A pile of Beckwith’s books was at my parents’ house, hopefully not because my Mom was getting rid of them – I’ve always enjoyed these books, although I don’t remember reading this one when young.  I have particularly fond memories of her autobiographical book About my Father’s Business, and the semi-autobiographical The Hills is Lonely.

Like Bridges, this is a romance; but that’s about the only similarity between the two.  An Island Apart is set in Scotland, first in one of smaller cities, then on an unspecified island similar to Jura, the one my four-times-great-grandmother emigrated from.  The main characters barely know each other when they marry, and have what I would describe as a respectful, rather than loving, relationship throughout the book.  The last few pages of the book might be described as overwrought, but most of the novel is refreshingly straightforward and even, perhaps, unromantic.

I love the descriptions of the Scottish islands in Beckwith’s books and the people there.  The descriptions of their daily life fascinate me, since it is so different than mine, but it seems pretty likely that Flora Munn was feeding her chickens and making a fish-and-potato supper over a peat-burning fire in the mid-1800s, the same way that Beckwith was in the mid-1900s.

Beckwith was a mainlander who was told to go to the islands for her health, then fell in love with them and voluntarily stayed.  She has a writer’s eye for detail, and an outsider’s understanding of what details to include, but she is sympathetic, and her affection for the land and the people shows through all she writes (which does not prevent her from including a good deal of humour).  I highly recommend all her books.