A gripping, heart-wrenching, little known story that needs to be told

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

Not much kept this from being a 5-star review.

In The Zorg: A Tale of Greed and Murder That Inspired the Abolition of Slavery, Siddharth Kara explores the Zorg, a ship that transported slaves across the Atlantic around the time of the American Revolution. On one fateful journey in 1781, a number of factors came together that led to the massacre of more than a hundred enslaved people. The story was horrifying enough to make it a rallying cry in England that helped lead to the end of the slave trade and, indeed, the end of slavery in the UK. And it came to prominence because of an insurance claim.

I learned so much from this book, especially about the slave trade, from when Africans were captured through their journeys to the coast, their stays at the coast, the trips across the ocean, and auctions upon arriving at their destinations, and how abolition happened in the UK. But there's a LOT more in there. You're reading along and suddenly you get to something like "By the time independence was won, nearly half of all munitions used by the Americans had shipped through Sint Eustatius, and about half of all American communications with allies in Europe also passed through the island" (loc. 566). I had never even heard of Sint Eustasius! The British currency "guinea" comes from the slave trade, which makes SO much sense if you think about it. And while I was familiar with a lot of the abolitionist writings (largely thanks to having written my undergrad thesis on the effect of abolitionist writings on the Constitution and yes, thank you, Kara did name authors I recognized and was like "I read that pamphlet!"), the ramifications of the American Revolution on the slave trade were all new as well.

So why did I knock it down? The way Kara told the story didn't quite work for me. There was a lot of jumping among characters--and there were a lot of characters, which made sense, but it was sometimes hard to remember who was who and their place in the story. He also tended to fall back on "This decision would have disastrous consequences down the line" or "Who knows how things may have happened differently had this not happened" and the like, which I hate. This story doesn't particularly need foreshadowing.

That said, it was shocking the number of things that had to have happened in a certain way to allow for this atrocity to have happened, and Kara's research shines as he details it. He manages to balance the story of what happened and why without losing sight of the fact that the slaves who died were people. The book is a hard read, but Kara manages to find a balance; he writes about many egregiously awful details in a fairly straightforward way, but you can feel his horror at everything he learned. Is he at times clearly judgmental of people in this? He is, and who can blame him? If anyone deserves harsh judgment, it's these men profiting off the slave trade.

His utter contempt for Robert Stubbs, a former slave ship captain and former governor of a British African fortification, is both unmistakable and warranted. This man brought his 12-year-old son with him to Africa and then kind of just...left him there. Kara has many Thoughts about Stubbs and you don't have to wonder why. (Sample: "Robert Stubbs--a 'scoundrel' who brought his twelve-year-old son to Africa and abandoned him there, who used his position as governor at Anomabu to deal in slaves for personal profit, and who was 'wicked enough to say what he cannot justify.'" [loc. 3204])

The last third or so of the book is focused on how the horrors of the Zorg came into the public consciousness, the building of the abolitionist movement, and how progress was won in Parliament. The various trials include some details that Kara left out earlier in the book, probably for shock value when they come up in the trial, and let me tell you, it works. I gasped out loud, the way I have no doubt the spectators did. But I also found it reassuring, how progress can build and coincidences can bring people together. And also how people can change.

(Not Stubbs. Stubbs doesn't change.)

It's a hard book to read, but it's definitely worth your time.

Thanks to St. Martin's Press and NetGalley for the free advance copy in exchange for my honest opinion.  

At least they didn't get the Fabulous Baseball Diamond

We're all kind of obsessed with the Louvre heist, right? I mean, sure, it's probably because we collectively need something to distract us. I was going to say "something fun," but "fun" probably isn't the right word. It's bad that the people of France have lost their crown jewels! That's not OK! (And if you want a good visualization of what happened, the BBC has you covered.)

But honestly, ever detail about this heist is amazing. Which has led to some amazing memes, and honestly what more can we ask for?  

The fact that the Louvre heist didn’t take place at dawn, but at the very reasonable hour of 9:30 a.m. shows that even French jewel thieves have a better work-life balance than us.

— Leslie Gaar (@thelesliegaar.bsky.social) October 19, 2025 at 7:09 PM

hang this in the louvre (there's room now)

— derek guy (@dieworkwear.bsky.social) October 19, 2025 at 10:57 PM

I spend a year plotting a mystery novel and then this happens.

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— Maureen Johnson (@maureenjohnsonbooks.com) October 19, 2025 at 9:56 PM

This photo accompanying a news story about the heist at the Louvre is perfection.

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— Carrie Tait (@carrietait.bsky.social) October 19, 2025 at 5:56 PM

And, of course, I'd be remiss in neglecting to mention the other prominent jewel heist of a European museum. 

I think part of it, too, is that it's the French crown jewels. Had you asked me a week ago whether France even had crown jewels, I would've assumed no. I can't believe they made it through the Revolution! And I feel like people don't talk about them the way they talk about the British crown jewels...probably because the Brits still have a monarchy, so the jewels make appearances somewhat regularly.

I will say, having been to the Louvre and the Hermitage and other palaces in Russia, the level of monarchical ostentation in France and Russia is beyond anything I've seen at palaces in the UK. Going to the Peterhof, you look around and are like, "Yes. I can see why people revolted." It all fascinates me, but at the same time, I think that's part of the reason I can't be too upset. Though the thought of the individual pieces being broken up is sad; they truly are works of art.

Cats do cure problems. Even if you're allergic.

 

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Excellent timing for me to read Syou Ishida's We'll Prescribe You a Cat; I had to say goodbye to my second cat at the end of last year and a few weeks ago, my husband and I adopted a mother and kitten (who are now sleeping, piled up in a hammock next to the couch). Cats are special.

 

In Kyoto, a handful of people find themselves at a clinic that treats the soul that they heard about from a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-coworker's-brother's-cousin. Once there, the taciturn nurse and friendly-if-possibly-a-bit-vacant doctor prescribe each a cat. (One of my favorite bits of the book are the directions that come with the cats.) (Also the zoomies description.) Naturally, each person finds their life upended in small or large ways by the cat.

Is there magical realism? You better believe it.

The book is charming. The characters aren't necessarily likeable--even with the additions of the cats they're prescribed--but they are real. I was particularly moved by the young girl trying to deal with cliques at school and her mother. I also liked that not everyone wound up keeping their cats, which I didn't expect; I appreciated it being handled differently for each of the characters.

I kind of feel like I either wanted all of the characters somehow related, or none of them, and I could've done without the ending of the book. I liked what the geisha's story was trying to convey, but I didn't love that story itself. I wanted it to be left more ambiguously. Ah well.

They're all good cats.

Cute concept brought down by some poor characterization

⭐⭐⭐ 

Summer Reading, by Jenn McKinlay, is a cute enough read; my rating was definitely helped by the setting (Martha's Vineyard, where my husband and I spent a day on our honeymoon) and some trope-flipping (the male love interest, Bennett, is a librarian; the female main character, Samantha, doesn't read at all) (she is a chef, though, but one can only hope for so much when in a rom-com).

After losing out at a promotion at work, 28-year-old chef Sam returns home to Martha's Vineyard to watch her teenage half-brother Tyler for a few weeks while her dad and stepmom do some traveling in Europe. On the ferry, she accidentally knocks the book out of Ben's hand--right into the water. Ben, it turns out, is a temporary library director on the island for the summer to try to find out who his father is. Sam winds up balancing trying to bond with a 14-year-old, taking on some part-time chef work, catching up with her best friend Emily, and Ben and his search for his dad.

It's a cute concept and there's a lot to like. The island truly comes to life, and I loved the developing relationship between Sam and Tyler as well as Sam and Emily's friendship. You could feel their history, and it was nice getting mentions of their hijinks as kids without having to go into full-blown flashbacks (it IS possible, authors!).

However. Sam's defining characteristic is her dyslexia. That she has dyslexia interested, to see the world through that lens. (The print version of this book uses a dyslexia-friendly font, which is what my ereader defaulted to; since I don't like reading sans serif when I'm reading full books, I could happily switch to a serif font, but I love that the choices were made there.) Unfortunately, it overpowers the story. I liked learning about her coping mechanisms and seeing how dyslexia tied into her career--both why she became a chef and how it affected her work. But I got annoyed at both how she saw it hampering her life (Multiple men dumped her because of it!) (It's why she didn't get that promotion at work, even though she also talked about her boss being a raging misogynist!) (Kids called her "Simple Sam," a nickname I refuse to believe would have been used during the Obama administration!) and how over-the-top Ben was in supporting her ("You can problem solve in ways that my tiny brain can't even come up with" and "You intuit things that the rest of us can't even imagine because you are extraordinary" being the ones that really got to me).

Don't get me wrong. I love how he lifted her up and helped her self-esteem. (I didn't love how he didn't have a personality other than "loves books" and "rides a motorcycle.") I love that he got her into books by reading to her. She mentioned audiobooks at one point, but it doesn't seem that she ever actually tried them, and like, fine, but her hostility to books was somewhat off-putting, if understandable. You know what I would've loved? If she had been really into podcasts. That would've worked so well! Of course, that probably would've made her feel more confident in herself and her intellect, so that wouldn't work in the story. But she is so deep into how she and Ben could never be together because he's a librarian! And she has dyslexia! Even though Ben himself doesn't mind and falls all over himself to apologize after her sends her a bunch of texts and she ignores them! (Also, after one time of mentioning that she uses voice-to-text for texting, we didn't need to hear that explained every. time. she used her phone.)

There was also some cringey dancing that kept popping up throughout the book in a way that felt awkward, not cute.

Overall, the story itself was good. I just kept getting frustrated by it. It looks like McKinlay's next book is about Sam's friend Emily--in Ireland!--and I can see myself checking that one out.

Ford's Theatre's trip to the March on Washington is more than worth your time

The American Five culminates with images and videos of the March on Washington in August of 1963. The 2+ hours leading up to that moment are captivating.

The play, making its premiere after being done as a reading in Ford's Theatre's 2024 First Look festival of new plays, is the story of what led up to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech. (The words "I have a dream" aren't uttered in the play; those words were ad libbed on the day.) We see Martin (Ro Boddie) and Coretta Scott King (Renea S. Brown) early in their relationship (the reaction to Martin's line “I can see you speaking for me when I can’t speak for myself…” was strong); we see Bayard Rustin (Stephen Conrad Moore) preach to Martin about nonviolence; we see Martin rise in prominence and become friends with Stanley Levison (Aaron Bliden) and Clarence B. Jones (Yao Dogbe) and have them join his inner circle. We see Martin in the Birmingham jail and the idea for the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom form.

The brilliance of the play is that while it revolves around Martin, we get to spend time with the other characters and see how they deal with each other, without Martin, and who they are. There's a reason the play is titled The American Five and doesn't mention Martin Luther King, Jr. The relationship between Stanley (who frequently points out that he's not white, he's Jewish!) and Clarence was particularly fascinating, particularly toward the end of the play as they hash out what the focus of Martin's speech should be.

The cast of The American Five at Ford's Theatre. Photo by Scott Suchman.

 

Another notable scene that's gotten a lot of mentions in reviews is one between Martin and Coretta. Martin has just met with President Kennedy and is trying to cope with that pressure, plus knowing that this huge march is coming up, plus all of his other obligations as a leader and a minister. Coretta stands up for herself as the one who does the work so he can do the work. It really lands in a way that it probably wouldn't have in 1963, when the scene is set. There's another part later in the show that touches on intersectionality--Coretta being a woman, Stanley being Jewish, and Bayard being gay.

I love that the play doesn't shy away from showing Martin Luther King, Jr., as a person with flaws. Yes, it acknowledges his affairs in a scene where you both profoundly empathize with him even as you roll your eyes at his excuses. The weight of his knowledge of his own place in history clearly hangs heavy on his shoulders.

And let me tell you, the acting in this show is phenomenal, all five of them. I've seen all of them except Moore in other shows; this is my second time seeing Boddie as King--the other being in The Mountaintop, which he starred in with Brown. I also saw Boddie and Dogbe in Topdog/Underdog, which, woof. They blew me away in that, too; such a powerful show that I am still gutted by. Boddie continues to be a fantastic King; I obviously never got a chance to see King speak myself, but seeing Boddie play him feels like the next best thing. Listening to him, you can understand why people were drawn to him, and it made me want to pull up and read more of King's speeches and writings. 

Honestly, they were all amazing. Brown absolutely owns the stage as Coretta and her chemistry with Boddie is strong. Moore disappears into Bayard Rustin; the pain of his life as a gay Black man in mid-century American shines through even as he jokes around and spurs Martin on. The cast clicks completely; I could've watched them for a much longer show.

It's depressing how much of this show still hits home today. A fantastic debut from playwright Chess Jakobs; here's hoping it has a strong life in theaters across the country.  

Compelling and thought-provoking...but with an annoying main character. Can't have it all.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

More of a 3.5, but the ending helped. Also, even though I didn't really like the main characters, I found the story and writing compelling. Also, it's told chronologically! Huzzah!

From a young age, Steph knows that she wants to go to space. She's being raised by a single mother in Oklahoma; a Cherokee, she's focused on this quest while those around her deal with their history, both as Native Americans and their own personal journeys and the history of their specific people. The book is mostly told from Steph's point of view, but we get a bunch of chapters from that of her college girlfriend, and we later have interspersed emails and social media posts from others to get glimpses into their lives.

Steph is laser-focused on her goal; it makes it hard for the people around her (from a friend/love interest: "We eat snacks, I talk, and you sit here giving me absolutely nothing, like you're in the witness protection program" and "You're funny. At least, I've decided you are. You're cute. You mean well, I think") and it makes her hard to like ("It's good to be well-rounded, I thought, when you are a person with no dreams"), though her discipline is admirable. She does eventually grow, but it takes the vast, vast majority of the book...and a shark attack, which is about the last thing I expected in this book 

We also get a lot of Kayla, Steph's sister. Young Kayla is into art and is very interested in her Native ancestry. She doesn't have the dreams Steph does and lives a completely different life. A lot of the book is dealing with your personal history, about how Steph and Kayla's mother tells the story of their ancestors, and gave me a lot to reflect on, about how we think of our ancestors:

• "He said to stop thinking of our tribe as its history"
• "Kayla still looked to our ancestors as fighters, people whose every complexity could be forgiven in their fight to survive"
• "...these people didn't live for you to use them for whatever point you're out to make. If we met them today, I think we'd disagree on a lot of things"
• "I've been trying to learn more about them, to understand them not as the ancestors, but as people"

This hit particularly close to home for me; I recently visited the house of an ancestor who was killed on the first day of the American Revolution, a story I knew. When my husband and I got a tour of his house, we learned that evidence shows that an enslaved person lived there, too. I'm still grappling with that.

So while I didn't like Steph, I liked a lot of what she was dealing with. She never grappled with being gay, per se, but there was a lot of trying to figure out if other people were gay and the period where civil unions were a thing but gay marriage wasn't, and how she felt about that. (It also gave us this quote from Steph's mom: "I know haircuts like that are sacred to the lesbian people.") I liked seeing her relationship with her heritage in contrast with her sister's, and how both seemed extreme, if in opposite ways. Dealing with our own stories and traumas and history was central to the book.

This is particularly true for Della, Steph's college girlfriend. Her parents (or maybe just father?) was Native American, but her birth mother gave her up for adoption, and she spent her earliest years caught up in court battles between her adoptive, Mormon parents and her Indian father. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court, and Della winds up spending a lot of time grappling with her religion and upbringing and beliefs and family, and what they all mean to her. I found her story compelling, possibly moreso than Steph's. I was very very happy to have a check-in with Della late in the book, to see where she wound up.

I also liked Steph and Della's college story, spending time with NASA (the Native American student group at their school; Steph's mother's reaction to the name was perfection) and seeing how everyone there interacted, with their different backgrounds. What about their college experience was like mine, if a few years later, what was different?

So while the book (i.e., Steph herself) was frustrating, it's a book worth picking up. It goes some unexpected places and I'm bummed there are scenes we didn't get to see and it gave me a lot to think about.

Thank you to Avid Reader Press and NetGalley for the advance copy in exchange for my opinion.

A Merry old time at Shakespeare

One of my absolute favorite DC actresses is Felicia Curry. I saw her as Eponine in Les Mis at Signature back in 2008 and was blown away. I've been fortunate to see her in many shows and roles since then, and was delighted when I saw that she'd be in Merry Wives at Shakespeare Theatre. Further, Merry Wives of Windsor is a Shakespeare play with which I have basically zero familiarity; I know it involves Falstaff, from the Henry IV plays, but that's about all. So I was excited to see the play.

I was rewarded, because Merry Wives was a delight. It's a very typical Shakespeare comedy. Like Play On, it features an all-Black cast and is set in Harlem (though in present day, not in the 1920s, which is appropriate--Merry Wives of Windsor is apparently the only contemporary play Shakespeare wrote). It clocks in at a bit under 2 hours and is kept to a single act, which I appreciate; this kind of farce works better when momentum is allowed to build and play out quickly. (It also benefits from audience members not getting a ton of time to contemplate plot points.)

Jacob Ming-Trent and Felicia Curry in Merry Wives at Shakespeare Theatre Company. Photo by Teresa Castracane Photography.

In the play, Falstaff (Jacob Ming-Trent) tries to seduce two wealthy women, Madam Page (Oneika Phillips) and Madam Ford (Curry), both of whom are happily married. He decides to do this by sending them identical love letters. They're best friends, so immediately realize what he's done, but decide to mess with him. Mr. Page is a jealous guy and gets wind of Falstaff's plan, so decides to pretend he's someone else to see if he can find out if his wife is cheating on him. Meanwhile, a bunch of people want to marry Anne Page (Peyton Rowe), partly because she's beautiful and partly because her dad is rich. 

The play was adapted by Jocelyn Bioh; over 90% of the text is Shakespeare and while some of what was added by Bioh is obvious (mentions of LeBron James, etc.), it isn't always super clear where Shakespeare ends and Bioh begins. The program notes that the original play is 88% prose, unusually high for Shakespeare. It all flows together incredibly well. 

One standout for me is Shaka Zu, who begins the play with some African drumming, drawing the audience into the play and messing with us at the same time: the perfect combination for this farce. He pops up throughout the play and is an absolute delight.

The play itself is delightfully gay, only some of which is a slight stray from the original text. Anne's true love is played by a woman, and the show ends with two of her other suitors unintentionally marrying other men. Nobody seems upset about it (and it seems that's how the original play ends as well). There's a lot of excellent physical humor, plus an excellent African dance sequence.

I didn't love the many comments throughout the play about how fat Falstaff is, though of course that's one of his defining characteristics. It's all derogatory and unnecessary, in my opinion, and I wouldn't have been upset if Bioh had edited those out. It did make it interesting to me that the actress playing Anne Page--the object of many people's desire, described numerous times as beautiful and attractive--is plus-sized. If that's how the creative team chose to counter the negative depiction of Falstaff's size, I'm pretty good with that. Though again...I could've just done without the fat jokes.

As people exited the theater after the show, the talk was unanimously of what a good time they had and how fun the show was. It's definitely worth checking out. 

Wild for Jane, less wild for this book

⭐⭐⭐

Wild for Austen: A Rebellious, Subversive, and Untamed Jane is a bit of a mess. Essentially, author Devoney Looser wants the world to know that Jane Austen was the not the quiet, retiring writer some of her descendants portrayed her as; she wants the world to think of Austen as being "wild." It's in the title and Looser uses the word over and over and over, many times in situations where it is, at best, a stretch. And the book itself is a random collection (though one that I could see making a solid syllabus for an Austen course); it starts out with discussions of Austen's writings, including her juvenilia, writings other than the main six novels, and some writings that may or may not be Austen, then moves into discussions of her family (both during and after her lifetime), and finishes with a collection of chapters on random topics from rumors of Austen having a lover in Switzerland to Austen films that were never made to the use of Austen in court cases to Austen-related erotica.

A lot of my issue with it is that Looser is clearly pushing against a portrayal of Austen largely created by Austen's nephew James Edward Austen Leigh, who wrote of his aunt "Jane Austen lived in entire seclusion from the literary world: neither by correspondence, nor by personal intercourse was she known to any contemporary authors" (Ch. 15). People think of Austen as "staid," so Looser wrote this that we might think of Austen as wild. I don't hate the argument, honestly, but Looser is trying so hard to make it happen that the reader can't help but roll their eyes a bit.

In the early chapters, Looser goes through Austen's writing and highlights where she thinks Austen's wildness shows through. I appreciated the discussions of the juvenilia and other lesser-known works, where you can really see Austen be less staid, as it were, than in her novels. But in the chapters on the books, Looser makes some assertions that I don't think the material warrants.

I found some of the later chapters more interesting, if less directly reflecting Austen. Looser has a chapter on Austen used in both pro- and anti-slavery and pro- and anti-suffrage arguments and clearly wants to show the Austen as being abolitionist and pro-suffrage. There's a lot of interesting material about the relationship of the Austens to slavery and the abolitionist movement, but I don't know that Jane Austen's nephew being an abolitionist is necessarily reflective of anything. (I did like this, though, from the section on the suffrage movement:

It's true Cambridge then was stuffed to the gills with adult children of dead authors and intellectuals, including descendants of Charles Darwin. The Austen Leighs rubbed elbows with many there who had fascinating family and friendly literary connections. Nevertheless, her saying something publicly under the Austen surname would have added weight to the anti-suffrage movement." [Ch. 18])

There were also chapters on what Austen's relatives were up to--marrying into the French aristocracy, someone who was possibly a spy, someone who was accused of shoplifting and had a high-profile court case--as well as Jane possibly having some interaction with progressive-type authors. "Look!" Looser says, pointing at these. "Jane Austen had a wild life!" By which she means...Jane Austen had knowledge of these things, and wrote letters about them, and had some nice visits with people who were involved. I don't know that it necessarily makes Jane Austen herself "wild."

And admittedly, I got annoyed with Looser patting herself on the back throughout the book, mentioning new information that she herself unearthed in research! And like, good job finding a reference to Jane Austen that nobody in the past 250 years has before; that honestly is pretty impressive. She just mentions it a bit more than I'd like; there's a "Be impressed!" tone that didn't sit well with me.

There's some good, new information in here, and Looser does a good job of putting Jane Austen in context of the world where she lived and about which she wrote. But the book is uneven and is sometimes a bit of a slog, unfortunately. Still worth a read by Janeites, though I'd recommend picking and choosing chapters.

Thanks to St. Martin's Press and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for my honest opinion.

The blog is also a Muppet stan

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Really a 3.5; I'm honestly still debating between 3 and 4. The story of Muppets in Moscow is a fascinating one: just after the fall of the Soviet Union, author Natasha Lance (Rogoff), with a background solely in documentary filmmaking, starts working to bring Sesame Street to the former USSR. There are a million problems and countless logistics to deal with, from finding someone to help fund it and getting a broadcast partner to the basics of scripts and actors and sets and studios. A lot of the issues in the book come down to getting buy-in from various players in Russia, but there are also things like potential partners (multiple) being assassinated.

Understandably, this is all incredibly frustrating for Natasha. She's worked in Russia/the USSR before and has contacts and friends there, many of whom help her in this quest. But there are so many dead ends, promising leads cut short.

And then there's trying to find staff to work on the project. Despite having spent years in the USSR and loving Russia and its people and culture (she writes, "Russians embrace life as they do because history has taught them how just one false step can plunge them into unimaginable misfortune; therefore, they live more passionately than most people living in free and open societies" [p. 151]), Natasha is incredibly caught off-guard by the hostility of stakeholders to the idea of bringing in Sesame Street, to airing a show that's not filled with violent puppets and has optimistic children ("One of our producers had recently told me, 'Happy is not a Russian concept'" [p. 232]), to anything, really, promoting capitalism.

What fascinated me about this book was that tension in these adults who've lived their lives in the USSR, under the strict rule of the Communist party there and how they push back at the incredibly rapid influx of everything after the breakup of the Soviet Union. It makes sense, of course, and I was right there with Natasha in her bewilderment at some of the attitudes--though I guess I would've expected more from Natasha. She's good at acknowledging when other people point thing out to her about the context for her collaborators.

But the reason I had a hard time with the book was that I consistently found myself frustrated by Natasha herself. Her portrayal of herself is how someone would describe themselves when they're dealing with imposter syndrome; she clearly has the expertise to get this project done but she's always doubting herself. Every now and then there are glimpses of her as others see her and I'm just bummed we spent a lot more time with her panicking over the latest developments (again, understandably) and a lot less time seeing what she did when not having high-level meetings. At the end of the book, there's a reference to the studio where the show was filmed and she mentioned having climbed a ladder countless times. She...did? Doing what? That's what I want to see. We see her sitting in on meetings as people work through things and occasionally tentatively providing an opinion; we do not see very much (or any) of her leading, which is something she clearly did.

I also got annoyed at her describing her relationship with her husband, Ken; they meet early in the project, and they both travel a lot for work, but throughout the book she has to deal with crises and panics and he calms her down and gives her perspective and it happens over and over again, occasionally with him clearly worried about her and how she's prioritizing her relationship and her job. (For the record, they are still married, which is nice!)

To wit, she gets pregnant and spends the entire pregnancy ignoring and/or denying that fact. As she's on the verge of giving birth, she reflects

Gradually I realize what's upsetting me: I'm entirely unprepared for motherhood. Even the most unmaternal of women would have given more thought to having a baby than I have. They'd probably have at least understood that during the ninth month, a baby would arrive. To his credit, Ken has tried many times to speak with me about the baby--about how the baby would change the way we live, what our priorities are, and how we spend our time--but I've refused to acknowledge this, continuing my denial that "the baby won't change anything." (p. 314)

This is sort of the essence of her portrayal of herself (harsh!) and her relationship. On the one hand, it's nice that she doesn't feel the need to show herself without any weakness. On the other hand, this takes up a lot of the book.

In the end, I definitely the dissenter in my book club for having those kind of negative opinions (though I see others in the Goodreads comments) and there is a lot to get out of this book. It's incredibly depressing to reflect on where Russia is today, and where the United States is today, abandoning things like USAID, which was key to get Ulitsa Sezam going, and, of course, PBS itself. 

Feeling no pain in this production of Damn Yankees

Two of the things I enjoy the most are baseball and musical theater, so naturally I've long been intrigued by Damn Yankees, a show that really isn't performed much lately. (Other than by my husband's high school back in 2001. Though I assume other schools have probably performed it in the last 25 years, too.) Luckily, Arena Stage has just opened a new production (what they're calling a "revisal") of the show. (Note: I saw this while it was still in previews, so some things may have changed.)

Written in the 1950s, it's the story of Joe Boyd, a huge fan of the Washington Senators (then an American League team; the old saying was that Washington was "first in war, first in peace, last in the American League"), who bemoans the "damn Yankees" who always win. After saying he'd sell his soul for "one good long ball hitter" on the team, a guy named Applegate shows up to help him do just that. Joe leaves his wife, Meg, and becomes Joe Hardy, a young slugger who's quickly welcomed onto the Senators. Joe loves playing for the Senators, but desperately misses his wife...even as Lola, a seductress who also sold her soul to Applegate, tries to change his mind.

My understanding is that the Arena wants to bring the show to Broadway, which hasn't had a revival of it since the 1990s. With that in mind, they brought in a team to update the show; now set in 2000, Joe is a big Orioles fan, and is dealing with the knowledge that his father was a Negro Leagues player who toiled in MLB's minor leagues due to his race. They also change a bit of the scandal in Act Two, so the show touches on steroids (though that wouldn't really be an issue until later in the 2000s), and they tweaked the song order in the second act (source: my husband).

Changing the team from the Senators to the Orioles? I was ALL IN. It was truly delightful watching the actors on stage wearing Orioles uniforms and gear. I would've liked a few more lines that would personalize it to Baltimore (why not have Joe Hardy hit the warehouse?), but seriously, it was a joy. Orioles fans, get thee to Arena.

Alysha Umphress (Gloria Thorpe) and the company of "Damn Yankees" at Arena Stage at the Mead Center for American Theater. Photo by Matthew Murphy and Evan Zimmerman.

I honestly can't say enough good things about the cast. Rob McClure is clearly having a blast playing Applegate, and he impresses. Applegate is a fun role, to be sure, and he makes the most of it; he's generally playing it fun, but there are times when the menace comes through. 

The other standout in the cast for me is Ana Villafañe as Lola. Her voice? Amazing. Her dancing? Phenomenal. Her acting? On. Point. The script could make Lola and Joe's relationship a bit stronger, I think, though their "Two Lost Souls" was a highlight, particularly for Jordan Donica as Joe Hardy. 

Donica's voice is fantastic; an absolute dream (and it only makes me crankier about The Gilded Age not being a musical; I need the Peggy/Dr. Kirkland duet!). However, the role of Joe Hardy isn't a particularly flashy one. Donica gave an interview where he said he played Applegate in high school and was bummed he didn't get the role of Joe Hardy--he wanted the lead. His director told him "You’re a great actor and we need that for Applegate." And look, I'm not saying that playing Joe Hardy doesn't require acting skills, but it's just a quieter role, as this young man deals with pining for the wife he left, a woman he hangs out with but whom he can't tell the truth. But "Two Lost Souls" was the only time I really felt his charisma.

The show itself is sweet, with Joe's love of his wife Meg being his driving force. Joe's Orioles teammates were fun, even if nothing about the story is, you know, how baseball works. And I liked the nod to the Fosse choreography in "Who's Got the Pain." Overall, it's a really fun show and I'm really glad I got to see it. I hope it makes its way to Broadway. 

Also, kudos to whoever create the preshow/intermission playlist. The songs were just completely correct; I was very much brought back to my late college years. Spot on.