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This is a good map of Costa Rica, though it promises a bit more than it can deliver.

The familiar blue-and-gold ‘National Geographic look’ come across attractively and clearly. The map details are, as expected, Spanish-language designations: for example, ‘Parque Nacional’ rather than ‘National Park’ and ‘Provincia’ rather than ‘Province’. Some of the ‘marginal’ text is either in English or in both Spanish and English. National Parks are highlighted helpfully and some ‘adventurous’ activities are signaled by an icon at the appropriate location. For example, a stylized surfer icon marks beaches where surfing is especially promising.

51-gsp0ymql-_sx228_bo1204203200_If that’s what you expect from an ‘aventure travel’ map, you’ll be pleased. If you expect more than this, then maybe not so much.

The level of detail is good for a map of a country that is roughly the size of the American state of West Virginia, splashed across the two sides of the map and labeled as ‘East’ and ‘West’. Elevation lines give an adequate sense for the topography of this largely mountainous country.

The paper is solid stock and at the same time flexible enough for quick unfolding and refolding. I find this characteristic better than the vast majority of maps of the region that I’ve seen. Yet National Geographic insists on claiming that the map is ‘waterproof’, which seems quite a stretch. If you attempt to stand under an umbrella and read this map during one of Costa Rica’s ‘aguaceros’ (= downpours), your ‘waterproof’ map will be toast. Thus, my claim about over-promising and under-delivering on what is otherwise a perfectly fine product.

The Costa Rican road system is constantly upgrading and degrading and the rhythm of this is difficult to predict, let alone to record on a paper map. Some reviewers have faulted this map for being out of date on that front. The non-local traveler in Costa Rica would be well advised never to count on a paper map for knowing whether this or that bridge was out, or this highway paved or unpaved. Costa Rica is simply not the place for a paper map to stay up to speed on such things, and this is not the fault of the product under review. Having said this, I find the map relatively reliable for road travel planning.

All in all, I like this map a lot. It fills a gap for getting the big picture of where I’m about to travel or where I’ve just driven in this inexhaustibly beautiful country, which deserves and repays scrutiny. I’ll just smile a bit at the ‘adventure travel’ and ‘waterproof’ marketing.

If from our increasingly remote distance, anything about the Allied victory in World War II looks inevitable, read Rick Atkinson’s compelling history of the 1942-43 North Africa Campaign and be disabused of that fiction.518XZOezryL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg

In prose that easily absorbs the non-specialist reader (as this reviewer is), Atkinson shows what a paltry and untested force America was able to field alongside of a decidedly unsung British deployment in what became what must have seemed like it would never be: a defeat of a strong German force within convenient range of the German homeland.

Before this could happen, the green American forces needed to lose their triumphalism and their British allies needed to learn how to fight to a win on an inhospitable battlefield that was complicated by both weather and colonial legacies. Many American readers (again, I am one) will be surprised by the complex French role at this early stage of the war, a story I will not spoil for potential readers in this short review.

Among military historians, it seems, two temptations are to be avoided. The first is to chronicle a conflict as though the evolving technology of weaponry were the main thing. The second is to paint the war in terms exclusively of the ideas and decisions of generals. Atkinson has become a great writer of military history in our time because he brings mastery of both of these elements to the more interesting story of the soldier whose prospects for life and death were shaped by those less personal forces.

Although Atkinson is serially quotable, the first paragraph of the book’s prologue captures his touch for the human drama of war and its cost:

Twenty-seven acres of headstones fill the American military cemetery at Carthage, Tunisia. There are no obelisks, no tombs, no ostentatious monuments, just 2,841 bone-white marble markers, two feet high and arrayed in ranks as straight as gunshots. Only the chiseled names and dates of death suggest singularity. Four sets of brothers lie side by side. Some 240 stones are inscribed with thirteen of the saddest words in our language: ‘Here rests in honored glory a comrade in arms known but to God.’ A long limestone wall contains the names of another 3,724 men still missing, and a benediction: ‘Into Thy hands, O Lord.’

The toll was emblematic of a principle point of Atkinson’s book: America only really began to act like a world power on North Africa’s regrettable battleground. This stepping into a space that history had prepared for her marks, in retrospect, the turning point of this vast, global conflict. Churchill’s eulogy for the campaign proved right: The victory that awaited at the end of it was in fact ‘the end of the beginning’.

The genius of Atkinson’s An Army at Dawn lies, in part, in the author’s ability to help the reader understand why this was so while never losing sight of the boy from Iowa crouched in terror as the seemingly invincible Wehrmacht threw its best at him and his buddies, then eventually collapsed in ignominy as claims of invincibility came in for severest re-negotiation so very far from home.

This book is one part exhortation and … well, just one part exhortation.51uhfjqgjkl

The editing is abysmal and the content idiosyncratic and unhelpful.

I cannot doubt the author’s good intentions.

Steve Maslar’s Small Stream Trout Fishing is a very basic primer for the trout fisherman who might think the true sport is only to be had in the larger rivers with the big names.

Not so. Fly fishing can also be a huge and worthy challenge in the smallest of waters.

61py1r34wil will get you thinking along those lines. Then you’ll need practice or another book.

This is 101, basic stuff.

Don’t let Aviya Kushner fool you.

This not a book about grammar or words, though there is plenty of succulent discussion of both in this remarkable offering from a young Jewish writer and teacher.

51iasfxem5l-_ss300_It is principally a sustained reflection upon memory and how to remember well.

Kushner writes from a tradition that treasures remembering as the last bulwark against disaster. She is a master chronicler of the memory craft, passed on to her by parents who did not grow weary of arguing about words, the tradents of memory, the traditioners of a people, the access to a God who for all of us uncanny evasiveness both speaks and is spoken about.

From the idiosyncratic and unpromising project of laying biblical translations beside each other in coffee shops in Iowa, New York, and Tel Aviv, Kushner spins a tale of the richness of words, the promise and portent of language that yields its treasures only to those who linger long with it, and her undying affection for a family that taught her to love words before it she made her way to … well … to Iowa.

The author treats us to reflections on:

√ Love
√ Laughter
√ Man
√ God
√ Law
√ Song
√ Memory
√ How It (Never) Ends

Her ruminations are rooted in the Bible (Hebrew and English), in the commentary of rabbis (early and medieval), and in the dinner-time rows of a family that argued as it ate. About words. About God. About matters both penetrable (if you harry them hard enough) and eternally impenetrable.

The truly frightening thing about Aviya Kushner’s The Grammar of God is that it appears to be the proverbial first book from the pen of this gifted writer.

After a beginning this good, what might she get up to next?

Even as I write that this massive compendium is ‘the go-to course for the non-financiaI-professional non-profit leader’, I worry that I am damning Financial Management for Nonprofit Organizations by faint praise.41oktly896l-_sx345_bo1204203200_

There is a strong argument that this is work around which non-financial-professionals and financial professionals in any non-profit ought to rally, to derive their shared understanding and dialect, and to establish common a financial platform for organization-wide strategic planning.

John Zietlow has been a persistent and influential voice in favor of nonprofit planning that abandons a debilitating ‘break-even’ philosophy and aims to build a tactical and strategic reserve. That understanding of a viable future for nonprofits its baked into this encyclopedic manual for nonprofit financial management.

I don’t think there is another resources that competes with this text.

Highly recommend by this veteran of the nonprofit wars.

Because genealogy is a technology-driven project and because technology changes so fast, writing this book took some bravery.

The threat of technological obsolescence is always the wolf at the door. However, in preparing this review in December 2016, I note that an updated (2015) version is now available. So the author appears to be making an effort at keeping his published work current.

51d1i1o2nulI believe the best way to employ this book is an as an ‘idea mine’. Scan it often and quickly for ideas that will jump start or add greater depth to your own genealogical inquiries. Even if only one of ten ideas pans out as worth pursuing, that’s a pretty good result.

The field of popular genealogy seems to offer a lot of techniques. But the best outcomes seem to occur when people simply probe at this possibility then that one, constructing by trial and error a greater understanding of their family legacy. Thomas MacEntee’s work may well prove a useful ally in that cause.

Noah Beck’s The Last Israelis captures the fear of apocalypse that is at the core of some Israeli political policy discussion and much American understanding of that one might call the ‘Israeli predicament’.

Beck is at the front edge, rather than the middle or the late/mature chapter, of his career as a novelist. His characters are sometimes thin, even brittle, but this does not keep him from telling a riveting tale.51hsvhu5esl-_sx331_bo1204203200_

His characters manage to exemplify many features of contemporary Israeli demographics, and to undermine reductive myths about what ‘Israel’ and ‘Israelis’ are like. Exhibit A: Israeli submariners of divergent origins cite their rabbis an debate that runs for and against preemptively annihilating their Persian foes.

The fact that serious people live with the fears that motivate this novel should be enough to give The Last Israelies a toehold on your reading list. The fact that it’s a page-turner of a read might get it up and over the hump.

Rarely do I come away from reading a book with the sense that form has perfectly matched function and that the book has changed my mind.

Both of these things are true of Donald Kraybill’s, Karen Johnson-Weiner’s and Steven Nolt’s bravely titled The Amish.

51gbdbjwyhlTrue to its subject, the book is a gentle read. It invites the reader into to increasing levels of understanding of this odd people, The Amish. Though it brings to bear upon its topic social-scientific, historical, and religious-studies rigor, it does so with a profound respect for the Old Order Amish themselves. As a result, the Amish come into clearer focus as fellow human beings who have chosen a certain lifestyle in a world that offers them alternatives. Caricatures fade amid the careful instruction of the authors.

The authors divide 21 rich chapters among five sections: I. Roots, II. Cultural Context, III. Social Organization, IV. External Ties, and V. The Future.

In the view of this reader, the authors’ Big Idea is remarkably simple: the Amish are not anti-technology, anti-modernity, or for that matter anti-anything.

Rather, with a view to preserving certain non-negotiable values, the Old Order Amish self-consciously negotiate the degree to which they will engage the offerings that a modern and post-modern world would thrust upon them.

When I was growing up on the boundaries of the Amish in Central Pennsylvania, it was common to snicker at the hypocrisy of this strange tribe. They would not have phones in their home, but would sneak down to the phone shack at the end of the driveway to make their calls. They would not own cars, but would contract ‘English’ drivers to haul them about.

Kraybill and his co-authors explain that ‘hypocrisy’ is an unpromising explanation for such admittedly negotiated solutions. Is it not closer to reality on the ground to understand that the Amish may treasure uninterrupted and intentional family life in a way that makes using the phone a choice (though it may involved walking 100 yards through the snow) rather than a mindless response whenever the thing decides to ring in the bosom of the family’s space? Gently (there’s that word again), the authors lead one to see the sense of such a complex network of negotiated settlements with a wider world that has made other choices.

Though the authors clearly admire the Old Order Amish, they are realistic about the challenges any community (in this case, a broad network of distinct and interlocking communities) faces in a world where the mainstream declares itself both obvious and inviolable.

The Amish is a work of gentle history, a moniker I choose not chiefly because the object of the authors’ research is a people attempting to remain gentle, but rather because the authors have demonstrated that history and sociological analysis need not reduce the human objects of their research to less than they are. In real life. Quietly. Along the margins of our frenzy.

I first met Tremper Longman’s brilliantly simple (I choose the dual descriptors carefully) introduction to reading the Psalms back when I needed it most. I was preparing to teach the Psalms for the first time in a burgeoning Latin American seminary and was appropriately scared stupid.

Since then I have taught the Psalms many times and in many locations. I’ve yet to find a better English-language introduction for the serious reader of the Psalms that this work.

41j92kk79ol-_sx314_bo1204203200_The strength of How to Read the Psalms, in my view, is the careful attention to the various genres or sub-genres of the psalms. It gives readers a doorway into an otherwise confusing morass of 150 poems. It draws on the best technical Psalms scholarship but it comes across to the reader as a helpful mentor rather than a technical geek. Longman also gives carefully selected and therefore helpfully illuminating examples from the Psalms themselves.

In my experience and that of many students, one comes away from reading the Psalms along side Longman’s manual both more intelligent as a reader of the psalms and more worshipful as a co-prayer with the authors of the psalms.

Though a bit long in the tooth, Tremper Longman’s introduction to reading the psalms has endured and, even better, stayed perennially fresh.