Kansas Books

This is one of a slew of recent books focusing upon the nomination process for Supreme Court Justices. The author, an associate professor of political science, argues that the current process, while not perfect, is neither as ineffectual as some critics allege or as destructive of judicial independence as other observers contend. To assess the current process, the author discusses the history of the selection process; the intended constitutional role of the Senate in the process (i.e., is ideology fair game?); and the record regarding confirmation hearings. The author disputes that the process is overpoliticized, which he attributes to the inaccurate images of the Bork and Thomas hearings. Rather, the key determinant is the professional qualifications of the nominee, his ethical views, and whether his constitutional philosophy is in the mainstream. The book contains the results of a survey the author conducted of experts that concluded there has not been an erosion in the quality of recent Justices. A most interesting chapter on the Thomas nomination is included, which was a mess largely due to an indecisive Judiciary Committee handling of the Anita Hill issue. The author also discusses whether nominees are scrutinized too much, or not enough. A solid discussion of the Rehnquist court is employed to argue that a ideologically conservative court does not necessarily go off in bizarre directions, but remains largely in the mainstream. In short, for the most part, the current selection process the author contends is in fairly robust good health. The analysis is supported by 58 pages of helpful notes and an extremely valuable bibliography of sources on this issue. While perhaps a bit overly sanguine about the current process, nonetheless a thoughtful discussion of this vital issue.

Many Americans think a visit to a National Park might allow them to escape the world of capitalism. However Selling Yellowstone: Capitalism and the Construction of Nature explains that it is not possible. Mark Barringer, an assistant professor of history at Stephen F. Austin State University, details how the forces of capitalism have been shaping the national parks since Yellowstone's designation in 1872. The book chronicles the history of concessions and park policy in from the park's beginning, focusing on a concessionaire monopoly built by Harry W. Child near the turn of the 20th century and carried on by his family after his death. Early on, Child built lavish hotels that catered to wealthy Easterners arriving by rail. His stagecoaches transported guests to each major point of interest with a hotel nearby, including Old Faithful and the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. These stately edifices became just as much an attraction as the park's natural phenomena.
The advent of automobiles ushered in a more egalitarian era of National Park tourism. The middle class took advantage of its new found mobility and started visiting the national parks, symbols of national pride and a way to get "back to nature." This group of tourists largely shunned the park hotels, viewing them as snobbish, and instead camped. With the coming of motorization, National Parks became places of expected recreation instead of just scenery (58).
Selling Yellowstone illustrates that during its first 40 years the NPS and concessionaires were partners in park management and that public opinion largely determined park policies. However, in the 1950s and 1960s attitudes about what national parks should be began to change. During that period, wilderness advocates became more influential, arguing that parks were "pristine wilderness whose inherent value was threatened by alteration" (147). By the early 1960s public opinion was divided between what national park policy was better - accommodation or preservation. At this time, Barringer explains, the NPS and its concessionaires were faced with "molding a landscape with expectations impossible to fulfill" (162).
Barringer's thesis is clearly that the NPS and its concessionaires presented their product to fit the perceptions of the natural setting prominent at the time. Early Yellowstone concessionaires created an idyllic form of nature that would appeal to tourists. Throughout the volume Barringer illustrates the key role advertisements and presentations, either by the concessionaires or the NPS, had in shaping public opinion.
The volume, however, suffers from poor word choice throughout. For instance, Barringer overuses the word mythology. The word means anything to him. He definitely stretches too far when stating that campfire programs give a "mythological connection to nature." Campfire programs actually can give the audience a connection with nature. Such presentations educate on key environmental and policy issues, which inspire their listeners to take better care of national parks. Alternate word choices instead of mythology could have been "imagined," "perceived," "idealistic" or "preconceived." Adding to the word choice problem, Barringer redundantly emphasizes his thesis, even using some of the same words. Reading such statements over again becomes tiresome.
Despite its weaknesses, the volume presents an excellent history of National Park policy with Yellowstone's concessionaires as the focal point. Readers get an idea of what was happening in other major national parks like Yosemite, Mount Ranier and Glacier during the same time period. The book demonstrates thoroughly that no policy or idea in history is static. Each generation reinterprets what is ideal and seeks to obtain gratification through that ideal.

I find Mrs. Asher's book to be quite enjoyable. I was reminded of a cross between "Cheaper by the Dozen" (the book, not the Steve Martin movie) and the Laura Ingalls Wilder books for the glimpse of family life in a large family.

"A classic in the field; in fact, it has the field to itself. Every scholar in Shakespeare studies knows about this volume."--William Carroll, author of *The Metamorphoses of Shakespearean Comedy*
I am certain that this book does indeed have the field to itself; and the assertion that every scholar in Shakespeare studies knows about this volume is probably no exaggeration either. This is a truly excellent publication, and it can safely be said that every serious scholar in Shakespeare studies SHOULD know it. The book has a final section on the writing of a research paper which is very sound and helpful, but the bulk of the material is, quite rightly, concerned with the task of guiding anyone who wants to get a good idea of what kind of thing has already been said about Shakespeare by scholars who, whether "right" or "wrong", have made a substantial contribution in their work on the author. Obviously there is a real difficulty deciding what should be included in a book of this nature, but the selection has been wisely made. Very sensibly, there is no over-emphasis on what is recent. Thus S.T. Coleridge, for example, who remains one of the most important of the early commentators, is included, but so is e.g. Stephen Greenblatt, who is among the best-known modern ones. It is striking, too, how objective, accurate, and clear the authors are in their descriptions of what scholars have to say. This is no mean feat, since they are dealing with a very wide range of material, and include authors whom many would not be nearly so objective and factual about. As for the fact that the book is now a few years old: that is no reason for not buying it. After all, the few years NOT covered are only a very short span in the wider scheme of things, and it is certainly possible to find out about more recent publications by consulting e.g. reviews in *Shakespeare Quarterly*. At the least, this guide will direct one to the more important publications until the time of publication, and it is possible to decide from the descriptions supplied whether or not an item discussed here is likely to supply one's need. The book thus saves one a good deal of time as well as informing one about major statements and trends in Shakespeare scholarship; it is an essential tool for anyone doing serious work on the author - certainly if not a beginner, though even a beginner willl find the book accessible and informative enough to be of use. - Joost Daalder, Professor of English, Flinders University (South Australia)

I bought this book for my wife's birthday at her request (men never know what to get!) and she absolutely loved it. The humorous and down to earth anecdotes provided just the right encouragement for her. She has already told me she plans to read this book at least once every year. Husband, you can't go wrong with this one!

The Shining Light introduces the Canadian bush settlement of Wildrose, where life is hard and often very short. Abbie Rooney learns a hard lesson about survival when her husband succombs to the hardships of the bush but will eventually find love again. The endearing residents of Wildrose and Glover's often glib and humerous descriptions of them will keep you reading throughout the series and you will learn the same lessons that they learn of leaning on the Lord to get them through.

When Jesse Harden finds out that the woman (Annie Malloy) he has always loved will face social ruin if she has her baby out of wedlock, he proposes to her to save her. Annie's strong, independent nature leaves the reader wondering if there will indeed be a marriage. In Shotgun Wedding, I not only found myself rooting for the good guys (and gals), but also feeling sympathy and understanding for the bad guy. In this case, it was the outlaw, Bodie Miller, father of Annie's baby. This author "humanizes" the characters in all her books, showing there is good and bad in all of us. Her use of humor during tense situations not only makes the dialogue enjoyable, but the storyline unique and memorable

An excellent Bible study guide. We used it in a small group of three that were looking for a guide that would deepen our faith, and "Simply Trusting" met all of our expectations! I would highly recommend this for all.

I often ask myself why I am so obsessed with skiing. Is it the physical act of making turns on a snow-covered slope? The opportunity skiing gives me to experience nature during the winter? The chance to spend some quality time with friends and family? The sport's fascinating technology, clothing, and gear? A nice meal at a resort restaurant? Or sitting by a warm fire in a slopeside condo watching the snow come down? Annie Gilbert Coleman tries to get to the essence of why Americans love the sport so much in her new cultural history of skiing, Ski Style.

Coleman possesses all the right credentials to be one of the sport's "deep" thinkers: she grew up in New Hampshire, competed on the U.S. Freestyle Ski Team, earned a Ph.D. in history from the University of Colorado at Boulder, and now teaches history and American studies at Indiana University-Purdue University in Indianapolis, Indiana. As both a "new school" skier and scholar, Coleman has written more than a traditional history of the sport. This is the first book to seriously delve into skiing's collective beliefs, internal norms, and the underlying practices of the hobby. So what does that mean? It means that Coleman is interested in who skis, why they do it, and how they perceive themselves.

Her approach combines the methods of anthropology, museum studies, sociology, and history, and the book's sources include ski brochures, interviews, artifacts, old photos, and back issues of Ski Magazine. It's an avalanche of information, but the material is always well presented and meaningful.

The book begins by digging into the sport's late 19th and early 20th century roots in Colorado, looking at such pioneers as skiing mailmen, miners, and Norse ski jumpers. She also discusses the significance of ski clubs in developing the sport. Associations like the Colorado Mountain Club not only organized ski trips, but recruited Austrian instructors to teach its members the latest European techniques, and helped cut and maintain trails. Surprisingly, the U.S. Army is partly to blame for the sport's growth in America. During World War II, it taught an entire division of troops how to ski, and while this division, the 10th Mountain, hardly used its skis in Italy, it veterans returned home with a life-long appreciation for the sport.

Members of the 10th Mountain Division who visited Alpine ski centers in Europe also came home with a determination to develop similar resorts in America and transfer the "the cosmopolitan and social image of European resort culture to Colorado." This trend continues to the present day at Vail, where visitors can stroll through an ersatz Bavarian Village, eat at an authentic Wienerstube, or ride the Vista Bahn up the mountain.

But other resorts, notably Steamboat Springs, tried to cultivate a uniquely Western chic in their marketing and advertising. In 1970, the resort hired Olympian Billy Kidd (a native of Vermont) to dress up in a Stetson hat and turn the place into the Wild West. According to the author, "Kidd allowed Steamboat to publicize its ranching past and develop its image as a historic and wild cow town, thereby plugging the resort into a long tradition of Wild West iconography that tourists recognized and welcomed."

As Steamboat and Vail's quests to become instant tourist attractions illustrate, skiing, for some, is more about style, spectacle, and status than nature, physical experience, and sport. To expand from being an esoteric hobby of a few hundred club members to a sport that now boasts over 57 million skier/snowboarder visits per year, skiing had to become accessible to the masses and also offer activities beyond skiing.

Coleman does an excellent job of explaining the technologies that made skiing easier for average Americans, beginning with the chairlift and ending with shaped skis. She describes how in the early days of skiing, club members lovingly maintained slopes by boot packing runs, and filling sitzmarks where skiers had fallen. As the sport increased in popularity after World War II, people stopped accepting individual responsibility for trail maintenance and slopes started to bump up and become un-skiable for novices. Steve Bradley of Winter Park solved the problem of moguls by designing snow-grooming equipment. Ski Patrol members originally pulled his "Bradley Parker" contraption behind them to smooth snow. Ten years later, Loveland Basin introduced a grooming machine pulled by a snow-cat.

Lifts, as we know, were a critical innovation for the sport, but just as important were Marker safety bindings, plastic boots, and intermediate slopes. Anyone who has skied Vermont knows that the trails developed in the 1930s by ski clubs and the Civilian Conservation Corps tend to be narrow, steep, and filled with difficult terrain features. These trails proved excellent for the tough club skiers who originally enjoyed them but the masses needed easier terrain. After World War II, therefore, resort developers concentrated most of their efforts on developing artificially contoured, intermediate slopes that avoided steep pitches, chutes, cliffs, and other obstacles. With the backhoe, the grooming machine, the chairlift, and snow gun, ski resorts tamed landscapes of rock, snow, and ice for large numbers of novice skiers. The call of the wild, as Coleman put it, became the "call of the mild."

With the advent of skiing for the masses came other diversions ranging from shopping to restaurants, to warm weather activities such as golf and tennis. Droves of people who had little if any interest in skiing began arriving at ski resorts to soak up the atmosphere and relax in the serenity of the mountains. They appreciated the amenities these resorts had to offer and the glamour of the people who frequented them, especially the movie stars but also the ski bums. Coleman points out that one of the things that made skiing so appealing between 1950 and 1980 was that the person waiting your table generally enjoyed skiing as much as you and probably came from the same socio-economic background. Ski bums gave resorts a campy feel and spared visitors the race and class divides they often experienced dealing with service workers in cities.

Of course, as the sport continued to grow in the 1990s and more and more labor was required to operate resorts like Vail and Aspen, management had difficulty attracting enough bums to run all operations. Increasingly, immigrant workers who have no interest in skiing perform much of the menial labor at resorts while classic "bums" handle more elite jobs such as ski instructor positions, bar tenders, realtors, etc. Coleman laments the fact that the ski industry has done a poor job of attracting minority groups to the sport. For example, while black skiers now spend over $200 million a year on the sport, ski resorts still rarely display African-American skiers in their brochures.

Coleman's last chapter addresses some of the current pitfalls of the sport. She elaborates on the environmentalist critique that resorts have over-expanded and damaged sensitive wilderness areas. Interestingly enough, however, she's sympathetic towards the U.S. Forest Service (USFS) in this debate. While the Forest Service certainly encouraged the growth of ski resort development in the years following World War II, since the early 1970s, it has been more of a thorn in the side of the industry than its staunch ally. Resorts must now wait years to secure permits to use Forest Service lands for skiing and these permits are no longer guaranteed. Increasingly, the Forest Service has seen itself more as an arbitrator between the competing interests of ski resorts, local citizens, hunters, loggers, and environmental organizations rather than an unwitting ally of any one particular interest group.

The author is neutral about the future of the sport. "Today a place like Aspen can be simultaneously disgusting and appealing," she writes. Skiing has certainly evolved well beyond the sport to include almost all aspects of consumer culture, ranging from shopping to real estate ventures. "But we need not lament that Americans care only about image," she argues. In the end, it is the "combination" of sport and style that makes skiing so interesting and appealing.

Boyd's Chester the Crab Comics are solid history that appeals to young readers. The timeline and bright, comic format make the books easy to read and Chester, the wise and wise-cracking crab is the guide through visits to each time and place in the past. But don't let the format fool you, even topics like slavery in Slavery's Storm are given complexity. Boyd does not shy away from painful parts of the American past and young readers feel like they are taken seriously when they are presented with the details that make history full of contradictions. My 8 year old son asks for these books.