Really Good Books About Real People: Part Three

Don’t forget to peruse installments one and two!

Foreskin’s Lament, Shalom Auslander — Maybe my favourite book of the last five, ten years? So weird. I mean, it’s an odd thing to hang your hat on the memoir of an angrily non-observant, painfully religious Jew who rails against the almighty and his numerous crimes for a couple hundred pages, but you just can’t imagine how funny and sharp Auslander is.

Nicholas and Alexandra, Robert Massie — We joked about it earlier, but only with love, because it’s grippppppping. And, you know, kind of schlocky, but who cares? The important thing is: they’re all dead. Do not be swayed by any of the books that pretend someone staggered out of Ekaterinburg. Didn’t happen. All dead.

The Diana Chronicles, Tina Brown — Snarf. I’ve never cared for Diana. Honestly, as an ardent monarchist, I always thought she was a barely literate socialite who Charles (whom I adore, haters to the left!) was strong-armed into marrying, instead of the horsey, less-attractive woman who was his true soulmate. And this FANTASTIC biography, while completely reinforcing my existing opinion, also made me feel very sorry for her, since she never a had a goddamn chance and was probably a really nice person. She was nineteen, guys. She married into that shitshow when she was nineteen years old.

An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, Elizabeth McCracken — Don’t read it. Don’t read it. Don’t read it. I’m including it because it’s beautiful and perfectly written and because I wanted to give Elizabeth McCracken my money, and I want you to give her yours. But I also cried for…a week? Don’t read it.

A Freewheelin’ Time, Suze Rotolo — UGH, I love it. Okay, first of all, Rotolo died of cancer last February, which is awful. She was Bob Dylan’s girlfriend, but this is NOT EVEN A BOOK ABOUT THAT, not really, it’s this whole glorious mishmash of being young, and being an artist, and being surrounded by these incredible people and being caught up in celebrity and having Joan Baez stealing your man, but also referring to it so classily and obliquely that you almost miss it. She was lovely, it’s fascinating, you will really enjoy it.

Eminent Victorians, Lytton Strachey — It’s pretty much the Ur-Biography. The end of hagiography? Either way, it’s funny and cutting and full of oomph. It’s also nice to own, because there was a really long time period in which people might conceivably only own two books, and the other one was the Bible. Oh, and Foxe’s Book of Martyrs. That one’s kind of fun, too. And free for the Kindle! I would actually buy one of the not-free versions, though, since you want the nice gory illustrations.

Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller — I had purchased and sent three or four copies to friends before I was halfway through. It’s about Fuller’s odd childhood in Zimbabwe (then Rhodesia), and it’s never predictable or dull or clueless. Not for a minute. I have not read the follow-up, but bought it while writing this post.

The Beautiful Struggle, Ta-Nehisi Coates — If you enjoy Coates’ journalism, or you enjoy books/award-winning television programs about Baltimore, or the art of writing about childhood and adolescence appeals to you, GET TO THE LIBRARY. I couldn’t put it down. Why isn’t Coates a permanent fixture on the New York Times op-ed page?

Garlic and Sapphires/Tender at the Bone/Comfort Me With Apples, Ruth Reichl — Food memoirs are pretty much the best. I prefer Reichl’s work to Gael Greene’s similarly themed stuff, but there are also WAY MORE PENISES in Gael Greene’s, which is worth noting. Reichl manages to remain endearing, despite having the most enviable of writing and eating lives imaginable. Love you, Ruth!

Yes, there’s a fourth. You’ll have to wait for it, though, because next week is Really Good Books About Horses.