Curmudgeon finally buys two Ken Levine books online

Four years ago I did a post here about überblogger Ken Levine's then-new book, Where the Hell Am I? (Trips I Have Survived). I wanted to buy the book, I said, but I was afraid.

The problem was that the book was available only online. I'm hope I'm not open to a charge of being afraid of the Internet, not after blogging, albeit sporadically, for a decade. Nor was I afraid of Amazon in particular -- but I was (and am) afraid of the State of Illinois. (Have you seen our new billionaire governor?)

The State of Illinois did not impose sales tax on Amazon purchases; instead, it relied on Illinois-based Amazon shoppers to fork over the sales tax on all their Amazon purchases voluntarily, when they paid their state income tax.

See? I can be as funny as Ken Levine -- just by relating the actual facts.

I simply was not going to get into a beef with my home state over whether I did or did not remember every purchase and the absolute safest way to do that was to purchase nothing. Which I did.

This year, however, Amazon and Illinois have reached an accord -- Amazon is willing to open up some facility in Illinois and has consented, in return, to charge Illinois tax to Illinois residents on Amazon purchases. Plus, I needed new razor blades (which my son-in-law had heretofore purchased for me -- online -- and I'm sure he paid all taxes when due). The razor blades came to about $8, but I needed to spend $50 for free shipping.

Among the purchases I made to reach that threshold were two of Ken Levine's books, his current novel, Must Kill TV, and his book about the year he spent broadcasting for the Baltimore Orioles, It's Gone! ...No, Wait a Minute....

Well.

If you like your comedy black, you can't get much darker than Must Kill TV. It is wicked, knowing satire and many themes will be familiar to Ken Levine's blog readers. A thriller as well as a satire, the plot pivots dramatically from page to page. Some twists I liked better than others. One, near the end, literally did make me laugh out loud. (My fellow Blue Line commuters were alarmed by this.)

But... how can I say this? I liked the baseball book better. Not just because I like baseball -- as this is posted, my seasonal sidebar is in full baseball mode -- but because Must Kill TV can be, well, stressful. Maybe I take things too seriously. After all, I'm the guy who mourns when my village is destroyed in Clash of Clans. I take two blood pressure pills a day. I don't watch horror movies. (If I want to be frightened, I tell my kids, I look at my checkbook.) So I'm reading Must Kill TV on the train and watching poor Charles Muncie make still another poor choice and, in my mind, I'm yelling at him, don't do it! -- and then he does. And I had to put the book down for awhile. (I think I was only yelling in my mind -- but, come to think of it, my fellow Blue Line commuters seemed a little more nervous than usual that evening....)

Coming Attraction: Living Oprah

We begin, of course, with full disclosure: I received a free copy of the book pictured above, and have been solicited for a review, by Liza Lucas of Goldberg McDuffie Communications.

Living Oprah (that's a link to Amazon.com) is a memoir of an experiment. Chicago actress and author Robyn Okrant (that's a link to the author's website) decided to do everything the Oprah way -- buy what Oprah recommended -- live according to the principles Oprah espoused -- eat as Oprah suggested -- for an entire year. And she blogged about it, too. (I'll bet you can guess what that's a link to all by yourself.)

I am not an Oprah-watcher. I am not even female. I regard Oprah with great affection and respect due her as a person who has helped, in no small ways, to hold down my property taxes in Chicago because of her many contributions to the local economy. I was devastated when she announced that she'll pull up stakes and leave us -- but more as a revenue matter than a personal loss. Thus, I might seem an unlikely reviewer for Ms. Okrant's book. I hope that Ms. Lucas's employers will not be cross with her for sending me a free copy, however.

From another perspective I am predisposed to be as sympathetic to Ms. Okrant as I can possibly be: Let's see.... Chicago writer with a blog who gets a book contract... how could I fail to identify with (and, of course, be jealous of) such a person?

Living Oprah hit the bookshelves on January 4. I think Ms. Lucas hoped that I would have something up about the book by now -- but her initial efforts to send a copy of the book faltered somewhere between her office and my Undisclosed Location. My copy of the book did not even arrive until Wednesday.

In the meantime, there are some actual legal cases to which I must attend -- I don't think a United States District Court Judge (even a female one) will be too sympathetic if I plead for an extension of time to file a long-promised summary judgment motion because I need to finish reading and reviewing Living Oprah. (*Shudder*) I don't even like to imagine how such a suggestion might be received.

But Living Oprah is firmly established on my To Do list and I shall report back on this at the earliest possible opportunity....

Tattoo provides an enjoyable slice of family life

I didn't grow up in the 80s and I will never read even one celebrity health-and-beauty book. I admit, therefore, that I am probably not in the target demographic for Jancee Dunn's very funny, enjoyable new book, Why Is My Mother Getting a Tattoo? In fact, before being asked to read and review the book, I'd never heard of Ms. Dunn.

And, looking at Ms. Dunn's bio, this should have come as no surprise: Dunn was once a veejay on MTV2; I never even watched MTV1. According to Wikipedia, Ms. Dunn was a writer for Rolling Stone between 1989 and 2003. I haven't picked up a copy of Rolling Stone since around the time that Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show were making a musical pitch to be on the cover.

Dunn has also written for GQ. Insert your own obvious joke here.

Tattoo is mostly a collection of essays about Dunn's very close, loving family and, in particular, about the growing realization that her parents will at some point no longer be available to provide the clan's focal point. But that makes the book sound syrupy... or sad. It is neither. These are just good-natured stories told by a good storyteller. I suppose you could liken Tattoo to a collection of long-form blog posts, posts that you can take to read on the bus or the train going home without a wireless network card. At least one chapter, "His 'n' Hers Tiger-Print Underwear in Soft, Shape-Retaining Fabric," appears to have grown out of a 2007 post on Jancee's blog.

As an anonymous blogger worried that my occasional stories about friends and family might offend, I found it fascinating that Jancee's family and friends were so willing to have their lives opened up to public scrutiny. Enlisting the aid of Ms. Dunn's publicist, I inquired as to how Jancee secured their cooperation.

The author responded, by email, that she's "gradually worn them down." Her first book, But Enough About Me: A Jersey Girl's Unlikely Adventures Among the Absurdly Famous, was a memoir, she told me, and her parents "balked a lot more" while she was writing that one. When that book appeared, Dunn said, her parents found "that they sort of like the attention."

Dunn said her parents "haven't had to draw too many boundaries because I respect them too much to delve into any serious dirty laundry. Not that I'm hiding much. My father really was a boy scout, a church acolyte, a crossing guard, his high school's designated driver. I simply don't have any decently sleazy material. In fact when I wrote the memoir, I fretted that I didn't have a dysfunctional family."

The respect that Dunn has for her family, and particularly for her parents, comes through loud and clear in Tattoo.

But I was still not satisfied. I wanted to know how Jancee's parents would answer the question of why they've agreed to have their lives opened up in this way. Ms. Dunn agreed to ask.

Jancee's mother, as you'll learn in Tattoo, is a former beauty queen. She may be the mother of three Jersey girls, but she has retained her own Southern roots. Jancee's father is a long-time employee of J.C. Penney, now retired. When he and Jancee's mother decided to sell the home in which they raised their children, he thought it would be a good idea to make a video farewell tour of the place. Unfortunately, so far as his children were concerned, he didn't take the video until everything was moved out. He couldn't understand why the kids thought that was a bad idea.

Jancee relayed her parents' answers to my inquiry. Jancee's mother's response was very nice, but her father's was pitch perfect. See for yourself:

Mom: It wasn't hard at all to persuade her not to include things I didn't want in the book, because we don't talk about really, really personal problems outside the family. In which case, we just said "Jancee, this is off the record." But it really doesn't matter what else she writes about, because our life is kind of an open book anyhow. And we get a kick out of reading her stuff.

Dad: I just tell her not to say anything. I am the father, you know.

Though I was not familiar with Dunn before reading Why Is My Mother Getting a Tattoo? I feel like I know Jancee and her whole family now.

And thus we see another benefit of anonymous blogging: The Dunn family can't quite figure out, yet, what name to put on the restraining order.

Why Is My Mother Getting a Tattoo? is available today online and in bookstores.

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Full Disclosure Department: I received a free copy of the book, and was solicited for a review, by Liza Lucas of Goldberg McDuffie Communications.

A new book plays a serious game about the end of the world

My mother-in-law filled her bathtub with water and laid in all sorts of canned goods -- just in case -- as Y2K approached. I fell asleep in front of the TV as usual. Y2K didn't faze me a bit.

But I will admit to a little shiver of fear every time I think about the end of the Mayan calendar. For some reason the Mayans chose to end their calendar -- predicting the end of time? -- on December 21, 2012. The date is just random enough, and just close enough, to be a little unsettling.

This is where Brian D'Amato comes in.

Mr. D'Amato's biography advises that he published his first novel, Dreamland, in 1992. Since then Mr. D'Amato has written a brooding, introspective Serious Novel about the clash and incompatibility of cultures; a monograph on game theory; a scholarly treatise on the customs, practices and ornamentation of the Mayans and other Mesoamerican cultures in the 7th century of the Common Era; an historical novel about Mexico and Central America in the same period; and a gripping, sci-fi tinged techno-thriller.

To acquire this extensive library, you need only buy Mr. D'Amato's new book, In the Courts of the Sun, to be published tomorrow by Dutton. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the multitude of its component parts, In the Courts of the Sun is the first volume of a planned trilogy.

And, oh yes, Mr. D'Amato also supplies the Mayan-themed artwork for the book. Wikipedia tells us that D'Amato has taught art and art history at City University of New York, the Ohio State University, and Yale.

In Mr. D'Amato's book, December 21, 2012 really is the day on which the world will end -- but not if a team of well-funded scientists, engineers and game theorists can change the course of history.

A calendrical savant, Jed DeLanda, becomes part of this team after he correctly interprets a pre-2012 disaster prophecy in a newly discovered Mayan codex. DeLanda is Mayan, as attuned to the suppressed culture of his ancestors as he can be. He also has a talent for playing a game, a game that he learned from his mother, that has helped him amass a small fortune in corn futures. That same game may also prevent the end of the world.

In the Courts of the Sun is a sprawling work; Mr. D'Amato says he spent "fifteen-plus years" of research putting it together -- and it shows. It is not an "airport book" -- you'll need (and I think you may want) to spend more time with this novel.

I was particularly taken in by the astounding detail concerning the life of the Mayans and other Mesoamerican peoples. I asked the book's publicist about the authenticity of these descriptions and I received an email back from Mr. D'Amato. "Where there are disagreements among scholars," D'Amato wrote, "I've tried to make all the research in the book 'According to Pru' -- that is, according to the Mayanist Prudence Rice, at the University of Illinois, who is vetting the books and who has also provided some important corrections and even some ideas for dialogue."

I don't want to make In the Courts of the Sun sound like a history textbook. It most certainly is not. It is a tale told from the points of view of Jed DeLanda (and, no, I won't explain that and, no, "points" is not a typo) and Mr. DeLanda, for all his brilliance, has some very serious issues. He is often crude and irreverent, even blasphemous. If hostility to religion spoils science fiction or techno-thrillers for you, you'll have problems here. I read science fiction constantly. I'm used to the attitude and I'm not threatened by it.

That said, I found myself disappointed when I realized that the entire story would not be told in just this one book -- and that's a high compliment: I want to know how it all ends. (Or, you know, if it all ends.) The second installment of the trilogy is due next year. One hopes the third installment will be published sufficiently prior to December 21, 2012.

Just in case.

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A footnote, by way of providing local color: Brian D'Amato is the son of Anthony D'Amato, the Judd and Mary Morris Leighton Professor of Law at Chicago's Northwestern University School of Law.

Coming tomorrow on Second Effort

With any luck at all, and barring an unexpected client crisis, I'll post a review tomorrow morning of the new Brian D'Amato novel, In the Courts of the Sun. (The last link is to Amazon.com; it is from there that the image of the book's cover is taken.)

We'll get the full disclosure stuff out of the way right now: I was given a copy of the book by Ms. Liza Lucas of Goldberg McDuffie Communications in New York in the hope and expectation that I would read and review same. In the Courts of the Sun is to be published March 26 by Dutton.

For want of a nail... how a few wrapped cigars might have changed history

One morning in September 1862, outside the town of Frederick, Maryland, Cpl. Barton W. Mitchell of Company E, 27th Indiana, and a comrade saw a "bulky-looking envelope" protruding from the grass. Mitchell was moved to pick it up and inspect the contents.

And what a find it was for him: Three cigars, wrapped in a paper.

The expected course for a tobacco-craving soldier might have been to remove the paper and toss it away... but Mitchell was curious... so he unfolded the paper and scanned it.

It was labeled Special Orders No. 191 from the Headquarters of the Army of Northern Virginia.

Mitchell and his sergeant passed the paper to the company commander, Captain Kopp. He took one look and sent the paper up to regimental HQ. There, it went Col. Silas Cosgrove and then to Brig. Gen. A.S. Williams, who was at HQ that morning. Williams looked at it and summoned his adjutant, Col. Pittman, who stuck the paper in his pocket and rode off to find General McClellan.

That paper contained Lee's battle plans for the invasion of Maryland. McClellan now had Lee's plans, too, but even with this extraordinary advantage he was able to win only a technical victory at Antietam. But this technical victory was enough to force Lee to abandon Maryland... and set the stage for the issuance of the Emancipation Proclamation... avoiding British recognition of the Confederacy... and paving the way for eventual Union victory.

The improbable discovery of Special Orders No. 191 is well documented; my source for the above is Bruce Catton, in "Mr. Lincoln's Army," ch. 5; here's a link to the Wikipedia article on the Battle of Antietam (also describing the discovery of Lee's battle orders).

But... what might have happened had those orders not been dropped? Or if they'd been found... and casually thrown away in favor of the cigars wrapped within? Lee's invasion of Maryland might have succeeded; Britain might then have recognized the young Confederate States and have attempted to negotiate an armistice. There were powerful interests in Britain lobbying for Confederate recognition before Antietam... right up until the issuance of the Emancipation Proclamation.

Harry Turtledove has written 11 books -- count 'em, 11 -- that proceed in logical order from the non-discovery of Special Orders No. 191, starting with "How Few Remain" in 1997. In this timeline, Lincoln was forced to accept Britain's mediation... and to agree to share the American continent with a triumphant Confederacy. Turtledove starts with several characters in the U.S.A. and C.S.A. (such as a George Armstrong Custer who did not die at the Little Big Horn) and follows them, or their descendants, through roughly 65 years of alternate history.

After "How Few Remain" came the three books of the "Great War" series -- World War I fought on American soil: The U.S.A. battles the C.S.A. across North America, while its ally, Germany, fights the Confederate allies, Britain and France, in Europe. Woodrow Wilson is President... of the C.S.A.

Then came the three books of the "American Empire" series -- The U.S.A. has occupied Canada and parts of the Confederate States (Kentucky, a chunk of Texas, a chunk of Virginia, and Oklahoma -- called Sequoyah in this timeline). The United States has set up a puppet state in Quebec. But it fails to enforce the harsh terms it obtained from the C.S.A. at the end of the Great War... and a disgruntled noncom from that conflict rises to become a national figure, building a political party based on race hatred. You will be forgiven if you see a parallel between the events in this alternate timeline and the rise of Nazi Germany in our own. The target of the Confederate ex-noncom's hatred, however, is blacks, not Jews.

The latest series is entitled "Settling Accounts." The fourth and last book in this series, "In at the Death," was just released at the end of July.

I've just finished reading it.

The "Settling Accounts" series is an alternate history of World War II, occupying roughly the same years -- but with the parties all jumbled up. The Kaiser won the Great War with the help of the U.S.A.; the Tsar never fell. And millions of black people are being murdered in the Confederate States. But some things are the same: The atom has been split and scientists around the world -- and in the U.S.A. and C.S.A. as well -- are trying to build bombs based on these discoveries. "In at the Death" takes us to the end of that war, and into the occupation of the losing country after its unconditional surrender.

Like its ten predecessors, "In at the Death" is a chilling look into a future that might have been. Yes, Turtledove repeats himself -- if I had a nickel for every time he has a character observe how cigarettes in the North are inferior to those made from Southern tobacco I could probably cover next month's rent here at the Undisclosed Location. The pace of these books makes the repetition forgivable: The action is constant, and constantly shifting from one character's point of view to another's. Some characters are high up on either side, some are in the trenches. Turtledove has obviously studied the strategy and tactics of the Second World War; he's simply moved the action from Over There to over here.

These are not children's books: There is no attempt to sugar-coat the language used by soldiers or sailors. Characters visit sporting houses. Some characters live, some die. Many people die horribly in combat -- or otherwise. I've read reviews of these books that criticize Turtledove's characters as 'wooden' or 'one dimensional.' But I think you may come to like some of them. You'll have grudging respect for others, and there are some you will certainly hate. You'll care if some characters live or die. Wooden or one-dimensional characters wouldn't produce these responses. But I will concede that these stories are not about Turtledove's characters; his characters are instead invented in the service of the story.

What makes the new book -- what makes all these books -- worth reading is the eerie plausibility of it all.

Can you jump in and read the 11th book without reading the first ten? I can't say that with certainty, mainly because I have read the first ten. But I think so. If you're a fan of alternate history, you probably have at least sampled Turtledove before. But, if you're a history buff, and unfamiliar with the genre, you may find this quite interesting. And you will probably come away from this series, as I have, very grateful for the curiosity of Corporal Mitchell.

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If you're looking for a one volume exposure, try Turtledove's "Ruled Britannia" (the Spanish Armada wasn't sunk and William Shakespeare is commissioned to write two plays -- the Spanish occupiers want a memorial to Phillip II and the English underground wants a play that might rouse the populace) or "In the Presence of Mine Enemies" (the Nazis won World Wars II and III and occupy America, but the action focuses on a Jewish remnant -- in Berlin in the early days of the 21st Century.)

Carved in Sand -- a must read for victims of CRS

I saw an article last evening on Yahoo! News, about a new study suggesting that hormone therapy may help ward off dementia in women -- if the therapy is started soon enough after menopause.

I skimmed the article with a slightly guilty shiver -- I'd read about this before. I'd read about it in a new book, Carved in Sand, by Cathryn Jakobson Ramin.

Careful readers may recall my mentioning this book in an earlier post.

Full disclosure department: I received a copy of this book -- free, gratis and for nothing -- from a publicist who hoped I would be moved to do a review. No promises were made.

But consider this my review: Carved in Sand is an important book for those of you who -- like me -- are Baby Boomers. It's important if you're Generation X or Y or whatever we're into these days. It's really important to all of us who have brains and would like to keep them functional for as long as we're breathing.

Carved in Sand is a book about brain health. Ms. Ramin had a problem: A career journalist and life-long high achiever, she was becoming forgetful. Sometimes scarily so. And she could feel herself slowing down. When she reached out to friends and colleagues, she found she was definitely not alone.

Slowing down mentally may not even have been noticed -- much -- in happier days of yore -- but it's a real problem for those of us still trying to compete in the Internet-fueled, PDA'd, cell-phone-ringing, instant-messaging world of today. So Ramin decided to investigate what was happening to her and, in so doing, to make herself a guinea pig for all the current remedies and theories and report back to the rest of us... who are all suffering, to greater or lesser degrees, from CRS in middle age.

"CRS" is a term used among my peers: Depending on where you are when you explain it, it means Can't Remember Stuff. Or Can't Remember... well, you know. Ramin heard about this euphenism and many more in the course of her research.

Ramin's research is recounted in a series of "interventions" -- strategies she heard about, researched, and tried in attempting to "fix" her own memory problems. Hormone replacement was one of the "interventions" she explores in the course of Carved in Sand.

The good news: Ramin didn't have Alzheimer's -- but she reports about people she met along the way who did -- and what's in the pipeline for them in terms of treatment. She reports about traumatic brain injuries -- how seemingly minor events from childhood -- not just getting flattened on the gridiron -- can have consequences in later life.

As I read the book, realizing early on that I liked it well enough to attempt a review, I began dog-earing pages and underlining things that I might include in this little essay.

There are too many pages dog-eared. Looking at it this morning, to cite one example, everything from page 114 to 133 has been folded over -- except for page 121/122. Some of these pages deal with the brain injury sections -- I still have a son playing football, you know, and allegedly major consequences from seemingly minor traffic incidents are relevant to me as an attorney. The other pages in this particular dog-eared sequence concern Ramin's report of her experiences with "smart drugs" or "cognitive enhancers."

Two in particular are mentioned -- Adderall -- which Ramin loved initially... but began to fear as it seemed to 'disconnect' her from "ordinary human requirements." She found that she couldn't 'wander around aimlessly' in her own mind anymore: She was "on, all the time." The other was Provigil (modafinil) -- a drug labeled for the treatment of narcolepsy. Ramin experienced increased focus and productivity with this drug, too, but her memory test scores were only slightly improved from her drug-free baseline... as opposed to the dramatic improvement she'd experienced with Adderall.

But Carved in Sand is not just a book about pills. Meditation strategies -- even dancing -- are explored as methods of enhancing brain function. Undiagnosed physical ailments can depress brain function -- and drugs used for the treatment of chronic conditions can have unintended consequences on memory, focus and concentration. Your doctor may never tell you about these -- and he or she may not even know about them.

In fact, Carved in Sand is a book to give as a gift to your internist: It's a gift that could give back to you many times over. (Paging Doctor Anonymous: If our publicist friend is still lurking here, she could do worse than contact our old blog friend Dr. A.) In fact, now that I've read Carved in Sand I'm on the horns of a dilemma: I want to share this book with Long Suffering Spouse and with my own internist... but that might compromise my anonymous status. I'll continue to work on that....

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On the train coming in this morning, I saw this small item in the Chicago Sun-Times: The new commissioner of the NFL, Roger Goodell, has made "baseline neuropsychological tests mandatory" for pro football players in the coming season and is now requiring "all team memdical personnel to attend a meeting about concussions next month." Maybe someone sent him Carved in Sand as well.

The Liar's Diary: The cumulative weight of secrets

I've already written about my pre-surgey shopping expedition to buy Patry Francis' new book, The Liar's Diary. In that post I said that I'd started the book already, even though I bought it to read while recuperating; as it happened, I also finished it before going into the hospital.

Yes, it's a page-turner: You'll not want to put it down, particularly as the plot gets rolling.

You may start by thinking that this is a book about an unlikely friendship between Jeanne and Ali. Jeanne is the respected and efficient high school secretary; mother of a troubled teenage son, Jamie; and the wife of Gavin, a respected orthopedic surgeon in a nice New England town. Ali (short for Alice) is the new music teacher at the high school -- and so much more besides. She's a composer, a musician, and the wife of George, once a famous trial lawyer, now teaching philosophy at the local college.

But The Liar's Diary is not really a book about friendships; it is a book about secrets. Corrosive, even deadly, secrets, layers upon layers of them.

Hmmmmmm. An anonymous blogger reviewing a book about the perils of secrecy: My delusion is under attack!

The problem with reviewing a book that one likes -- and I liked The Liar's Diary -- is that one either talks too much about the plot and spoils the book for others or that one talks too little about the plot and doesn't leave the reader of the review with any incentive to pick up the book.

The author left a little license for me in the comments to my earlier post. She said that George, the lawyer, was her favorite character in the novel. (She might have meant the young lawyer who ultimately represents Jamie -- all the lawyers come over well in this novel, which is unusual -- but I don't think so.)

George is a cuckold: Ali and George have lived apart for some time as the book opens, and she is carrying on an open and notorious affair with the local car dealer. But George loves her in spite of her unfaithfulness; he remains devoted and protective of her -- and when something happens to her, he is determined to see justice done. Is he just a wimp? Now why would a novelist invest that kind of affection in George if that's all he is?

George isn't a wimp. He understands that the secret of Ali's past made her into who she becomes. He is wise, and his intuition is sound.

You'll see some of the secrets coming when you read The Liar's Diary -- but I'm willing to bet you won't see all of them. Once I thought I had figured out one character's secret. I was waiting for Patry to prove me right. It was like waiting in the train station at the wrong end of the platform: The plot didn't even start braking until it passed my position.

Now, the secrets in The Liar's Diary are dark and terrible -- not usually a subject for an entertainment, even in a mystery, which requires a certain amount of criminal behavior in order to exist. But Patry is not using dark and unspeakable crimes to 'entertain'; the most horrific action takes place off stage. Rather, Patry is concerned with the consequences of the terrible secrets more than with the terrible secrets themselves. And we can be swept up in, and, yes, even entertained, as we reveal the secrets and their consequences. I was.

Somebody should tell Al Gore about this

I've just finished reading 1491 by Charles C. Mann. I recommend it to anyone who is concerned about the environment. That should mean everyone.

Mann is not a scientist; he is a journalist reporting about scientific findings. The scientific findings he writes about are not widely known -- indeed, they contradict many of the things we were taught in school.

The basic, overarching theme of Mr. Mann's book is that American Indians did not 'live in harmony' with nature, they engineered it -- and often in ways we (for all our technical sophistication) can only dream of doing.

If Mann is right, Indians were far more numerous, and were in the Americas far longer, than we were taught in school. There may well have been settlers who came across a land bridge in what is now the Bering Strait, but they may have been only one of several waves of immigrants to these shores.

Mann cites the accounts of early explorers who report huge populations in many places in the Americas -- in Mexico, along the Amazon, along the California coast, and in what is now New England. But 130 years after Columbus, when the Pilgrims land at Plymouth Rock, the landscape has changed. It is largely deserted. The native population had already crashed, victims of diseases spread by the earliest explorers for which the natives had no immunities. (Diseases that may have been spread not just by explorers but by the livestock they brought with to support their expeditions.)

What later colonists saw as a pristine wilderness was, in effect, an untended garden. The gardeners were mostly dead. Mann quotes historian Stephen Pyne, "The virgin forest was not encountered in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries... it was invented in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries."

The passenger pigeon, famous symbol of American abundance, whose incredibly large populations were remarked upon by Audobon and so many others, may really have been a sign of severe ecological disruption: It's numbers soared unchecked because of the collapse of a keystone species in the ecology -- homo sapiens.

Mann writes about scientific research which shows that Indians genetically engineered maize (corn) and spread the cultivation of the crop throughout the Americas; that Indians supported huge populations with terrace farming in the Andes; and that Indians created a new soil, terra preta, to replace the naturally poor soils of the Amazon jungle. (The 'slash and burn' agricultural tactics now favored by indigenous peoples in Amazonia may be the product of the introduction of Western steel axes, not a survival of an ancient practice at all.)

It is not that the Indians changed their environments, so much as they improved them -- and improvement in this sense means that the Indians made the environment more useful for themselves. As Mann puts it, "Faced with an ecological problem, the Indians fixed it. Rather than adapt to Nature, they created it." Thus, early American settlers in Ohio were amazed to find forests in which they could drive their carriages -- but, if Mann is right, these were managed forests and the undergrowth had been kept at bay by the original inhabitants. The Amazon jungle was also a managed forest. The Plains Indians managed the Plains -- using deliberately set fires, among other things.

Actually, fire is essential to the life cycle of many prairie plants. Maybe it's because of the Indians' encouragement of these species; maybe it's not. But when the local forest preserve district here in Chicago proposes a controlled burn in a forest preserve to encourage the growth of native plants and eliminate the invasive species that have escaped our gardens and threaten to take over the woods -- the local environmentalists howl.

Not every feat of American Indian engineering was a resounding success.

The Cahokia Mounds in Southern Illinois may be proof of a spectacular environmental failure -- a cautionary tale for those who would bend Nature too far.

And Mann warns against the 'dialog of the deaf.' Writing about the Amazon basin, Mann says, "European and U.S. environmentalists insist that the forest should never be cut down or used -- it should remain, as far as possible, a land without people. In an ecological version of therapeutic nihilism, they want to leave the river basin to its own devices." Mann finds, however, that Brazilians seem less than enthused by this plan: Summarizing the Brazilian position, Mann writes, "To develop your economy, you leveled your forests and carpeted the land with strip malls. Why can't we do the same?" When the Brazilians talk of the need to help their own poor, environmentalists respond by insisting that cutting down the trees will not create wealth but will "only destroy the soil. Turning Amazonia into a wasteland will help no one."

Maybe both sides should be quiet and listen for the voices of the past. If the Amazon basin really supported teeming millions in the past, how was it done? The forest was there; if people were there, too, doesn't that offer us hope that both people and forest can survive there today as well? And what fate befell the Maya? Did they collapse because they overstretched their environment -- or were they victims of climate change? Getting answers to these questions may be critical to our own futures.

Consider adding 1491 to your reading list.