First Family: Abigail and John Adams by Joseph J. Ellis

Long before Bill and Hillary or Barack and Michelle, couples who closely collaborate in politics and policy, there were John and Abigail. If you call them "the Adams family," as Joseph J. Ellis sometimes does in his dual biography First Family: Abigail and John Adams, I think of Gomez and Morticia (Addams, but you do not hear the extra d when listening to the audiobook), but if you say John and Abigail, I know just who you mean. Their relationship is one of the most celebrated in American history, thanks to their roles in the American Revolution and early republic and to the survival of their many letters. Many authors have mined those letters to write books. Ellis's work is a fine example of well-chosen pieces to tell how a serious farmer/lawyer and his wife from New England helped shape and lead a new nation.

Few couples write so many letters as did John and Abigail, but they were often apart for months and sometimes years, as John served as a delegate to the Colonial Congress that wrote the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution. He also travelled to Paris, Amsterdam, and London as a representative of the new republic, seeking aid and negotiating treaties. Meanwhile, Abigail raised their family and tended the farm, where she wrung the necks of chickens, split logs, and bought more land. In her letters, Abigail reported on the family business and advised John on the best ways to handle Benjamin Franklin, French aristocrats, British spies, rival Democratic Republicans, and his own cabinet.

With such good sources, Ellis probably found the book almost wrote itself (except it must have been difficult to pare down to under 300 pages). If you are like me, you'll find it compelling to read.

Ellis, Joseph J. First Family: Abigail and John Adams. Knopf, 2010. 299p. ISBN 9780307269621 or Books on Tape, 2010. 9 compact discs. ISBN 9780307737786.

Below Stairs: The Classic Maid's Memoir That Inspired Upstairs, Downstairs and Downton Abbey by Margaret Powell

When poor British school girl Margaret Powell was thirteen, she won a scholarship to continue her education, but when her parents discovered it would be five more years before their daughter could earn a wage, they said "no" to the offer. She was pulled out of school and hired as a day maid that year. When she turned fourteen, she was hired by a laundry that fired her a year later because a fourteen year old could be paid less. Within another year, her mother placed her as a kitchen maid in a big house, where her duties included making the morning fires, polishing the brass railings and door knockers, and ironing her employer's shoe laces before anyone in the great family was awake. Then she was all day in the kitchen. Being in the lowest of low positions, working for next to nothing, she was at least sheltered and no longer a mouth for her parents to feed. Some children worked as hard in the 1920s as they had in the time of Charles Dickens.

Having been a good student and a constant reader, Margaret aspired to leave service from the beginning, but it took her a couple of decades. In that time, she advanced through a number of kitchen positions in houses big and small, meeting many lifelong servants with many stories to tell. She recounted these times with humor and a sense of outrage in her 1968 book Below Stairs, just now published in the United States. The subtitled for the new edition claims the British book inspired the writing of scripts for both the 1970s TV series Upstairs, Downstairs and the new series Downton Abbey. Statements from creators of both series are found on the book jacket as proof. Fans of either or both series will delightfully recall many scenes as read.

For a book that is touted to have had such an impact, it is fairly short and quick to read. Discussion groups might like to pair it with episodes of either series or the movie The Remains of the Day.

Powell, Margaret. Below Stairs: The Classic Maid's Memoir That Inspired Upstairs, Downstairs and Downton Abbey. St. Martin's Press, 2012. 212p. ISBN 9781250005441.

Fresh Air with Terry Gross: Just for Laughs

Comedy is serious business, and interviewing contemporary comedians is like stepping into a minefield. A journalist could easily blunder and sound like a fool. Would you want to be stung by a Stephen Colbert or Don Rickles putdown? National Public Radio's Terry Gross, however, seems to relish the opportunity to question the men and women who make us laugh. She even requests an insult from Rickles in Fresh Air with Terry Gross: Just for Laughs. As the title suggests, there are many funny moments, but this is not all. The three CD audiobook is also filled with surprisingly frank discussion about dysfunctional families, racial and sexual stereotyping, societal hypocrisy, religion or lack of, and personal pain - all the putty from which comedy is made.

Not being a regular follower of celebrity news, I learned a lot about Steve Martin, Joan Rivers, Will Ferrell, and Tina Fey that others may have already known, but I doubt there are many interviews as candid about their lives good and bad. Saturday Night Live and 30 Rock comic Tracy Morgan both nearly melts down and nearly explodes. Sacha Baron Cohen speaks as himself instead of one of characters. George Carlin explains why he uses the seven forbidden words. Trey Parker and Matt Stone amusingly tell how they do the voices for South Park. I enjoyed every interview regardless of whether I actually care for the comedians' work.

My favorite track was Gross's interview of groundbreaking political comedian Mort Sahl, who actually wrote lines for both presidential candidates John Kennedy and Ronald Reagan (but not for Richard Nixon). Though liberal politically, he has enjoyed the company of many politicians and believes that former Secretary of Defense Alexander Haig was the funniest man he ever met. His entertaining interview adds history and emotional perspective to this wonderful collection.

Fresh Air with Terry Gross: Just for Laughs. HighBridge, 2010. 3 compact discs. ISBN 9781598878974.

Fifth Avenue, 5 A. M.: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and the Dawn of the Modern Woman by Sam Wasson

Audrey Hepburn did not like Danish pastries, but she ate a sugary roll while wearing an elegant little black dress in front of the window of Tiffany's. She also insisted on playing respectable women in her films, but here she was as Holly Golightly, the quirky call girl created by Truman Capote in his novella Breakfast at Tiffany's. As a dedicated actress, she did what she had to do, but there was much about the movie adaptation that seemed awry. How had she come to be on location in Manhattan before daybreak? Film historian Sam Wasson recounts the story in Fifth Avenue, 5 A. M.: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and the Dawn of the Modern Woman.

As Wasson tells the story, a slew of ambitious people had a hand in creating the famous film, and many of them were dismayed by the result. Probably no one was more disappointed than Truman Capote. His sad story was transformed into a light romantic comedy with a happy Hollywood ending. Screenwriter George Axelrod was angry that director Blake Edwards did not follow his script and added tangential scenes with new characters. Edith Head was upset that she was getting credit but not actually picking the clothes. Mel Ferrer was upset that his wife was playing a tart. One of the producers did not like the music, especially the song "Moon River." Only Edwards really seemed happy in the end, for he had created a crowd-pleasing movie that bumped him up the studio ladder. He'd get better movie assignments in the future.

Was Breakfast at Tiffany's a great cinematic achievement? Is it hard to assess fifty years later? Wasson slyly never really answers these questions, but in telling his episodic story, he gives readers much evidence with which to judge. Critics charged that the sources were disregarded, the plot was weak and nonsensical, and many people were offended by Mickey Rooney's role as Mr. Yunioshi. Many young women, however, saw Holly Golightly as a forerunner of the new woman, free to live alone, play the field, and buy elegant clothes despite a lack of societal status.

Regardless of what camp the reader joins in the debate, Fifth Avenue, 5 A. M. is a quick moving and entertaining window into the late 1950s and early 1960s. Boomers and anyone who studies film history will enjoy Wasson's book.

Wasson, Sam. Fifth Avenue, 5 A. M.: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and the Dawn of the Modern Woman. HarperStudio, 2010. 231p. ISBN 9780061774157

The Foremost Good Fortune: A Memoir by Susan Conley

While compiling my best biographies and memoirs list of 2011, I noticed that the Washington Post included The Foremost Good Fortune: A Memoir by Susan Conley. In it, the American novelist recounts her two years in Beijing with her banker husband and their two young sons. Knowing that I usually enjoy Americans-abroad stories and expecting a novelist to tell a good story, I borrowed it from the library. My expectations were well met.

In The Foremost Good Fortune, Conley describes the strangeness of her new urban life, seeing the Chinese city cleaned and polished to receive hundreds of thousands of visitors for the 2008 Olympics, while she searched through the international community for someone to be her friend and confidant. Struggling to learn Mandarin and feeling lost in Chinese markets, Conley often felt displaced, while her husband and sons thrived. They had a bank job and schools to attend each day, while she stayed in their cavernous eighth floor apartment or ventured out into the confusing Beijing neighborhoods. Then she discovered the lumps in her breasts.

Admitting her faults and fears, Conley draws readers close to her crisis. They listen to her deliberations, weigh the merits of her decisions, and celebrate her survival. They may also wonder how they would fare immersed in another culture. The Foremost Good Fortune would be a good choice for book discussion groups.

If you visit Susan Conley's blog, you can see some photos from her Beijing stay.

Conley, Susan. The Foremost Good Fortune: A Memoir. Alfred A. Knopf, 2011. 276p. ISBN 9780307594068.

The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris by David McCullough

"Who would not be an art student in Paris?" Robert Henri, 1888

Americans have been traveling to Paris for almost as long as there have been Americans of European lineage. Some made a special point of going to the French capital in the 1770s when they wanted to quit being British subjects. That Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson went to ask the French to aid their cause is celebrated in many histories. The American Revolution might not have succeeded without French military and financial assistance, but after the war was won, French-American relations cooled somewhat for several decades.

In The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris, historian and frequent bestselling author David McCullough recounts the second great era of American pilgrimage to Paris, a period stretching from the 1830s to the beginning of the 20th century. The United States had firmly established itself as a nation with an expanding frontier and healthy economy, but some of the sons and daughters of the wealthy sought learning and pleasure that could only be found in Europe. Ignoring the prevailing sentiment against the Old World, young medical students, lawyers, writers, and artists boarded crowded wooded ships (and later steamships) for the long and dangerous voyage across the Atlantic to spend months or years away from family in Paris.

I was surprised to learn that in the early 19th century, Paris was the world's center for medical education. If they could prove worthy of admission, foreign students could attend any of the various hospital-based medical schools for free. Oliver Wendell Holmes and dozens of other Americans enrolled and learned about evidence-based diagnosis and other modern trends in the practice of medicine. Their generation then established their own medical schools in America.

McCullough profiles many individuals in the course of his epic book. Many of their names are familiar, such as James Fenimore Cooper, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Augustus Saint-Gaudens, Mary Cassatt, and John Singer Sargent. My favorite story, however, is about a lesser-known figure, Elihu B. Washburne, a former U.S. congressman who was sent by President Grant to be ambassador to France in 1869. Washburne was in his post at the start of the Franco-Prussian War. He helped many Americans and Germans escape the country before the Siege of Paris and personally directed humanitarian efforts throughout the war. He risked his own liberty and fortune to feed and rescue many innocent victims of the war. He also helped negotiate the peace agreement.

Readers who have enjoyed McCullough's award-winning biographies will find the author focuses sequentially on many figures in this new book, but he retains the intimate perspective of prior work as he uses many diaries and letters to let the individuals speak for themselves. Readers will, of course, also learn much about the character of Paris and Parisians. Now that it has dropped off the bestseller lists, there should be plenty of copies available in libraries.

McCullough, David. The Greater Journey: Americans in Paris. Simon and Schuster, 2011. 558p. ISBN 9781416571766.

also, Simon and Schuster Audio. 16 compact discs. ISBN 9781442344181.

The Man from U.N.C.L.E., Season One

It had been over 40 years since I had seen an episode of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. when a friend posted on Facebook a link to the TV show's theme music. The music came with a mix of stills and video from the show and rekindled my desire to see the old show. I had tried several years back and had not found any episodes on video, cable, or the Internet. This time I found the entire first season available in DVD from a neighboring public library. I placed a hold.

Once the big case with 29 episodes on 11 discs arrived, I was almost reluctant to look. Would the show be as cool as I remember? Would it be embarrassingly bad? How would I deal with that? Just laugh? I hoped to be pleasantly surprised.

Being the kind of person who starts at the beginning, I started with disc one, watched the pilot, and found myself in crisis mode right away. The plot was really weak, and Robert Vaughn as Napoleon Solo seemed to be smirking all the time. The sets seemed almost bare. David McCallum as Illya Kuryakin was hardly present. How could the executives at NBC have chosen to buy the series based on this pitiful effort? Either the 1960s were a more optimistic time or NBC must have thought we'd watch just about anything. Well, we would, if I remember correctly.

Thinking it had to get better, I watched the next three episodes, shown on NBC in the fall of 1964. I am happy to report that there was improvement. Napoleon Solo became more likable, and Illya Kuryakin became a bigger part of the story. The plots (while fairly simple) were at least easier to accept. As I watched, I started to think that the show resembled the first season of Star Trek (which debuted two years later). Both shows had rather plain, bare sets, except when the action moved outdoors. As in Star Trek, outdoor sequences were shot in California. In one scene, I almost expected to see Klingons come over the hill. And in every episode, Solo, like Captain Kirk, met a beautiful young woman who helped him foil Thrush and other international criminals. (Unlike Kirk, Solo refrained from any romantic attachment, but Kuryakin seemed interested in episode three.)

Like spy shows of any era (and Star Trek for that matter), The Man from U.N.C.L.E. displayed cutting-edge technology. In the intro to episodes two through four, Solo entered headquarters and flipped a switch that set lots of lights flashing on a mainframe computer. In one scene, the chief put a data card into a little window of a console and a slide show with audio then told the agents about a plot to use a gas that induced panic to overthrow an Eastern Bloc nation. The beautiful young secretaries in U.N.C.L.E. headquarters set up slide projectors in other scenes. While in the field, Solo had a communicator that he extracted from a cigarette case. He also had a small Polaroid-like camera that took pictures in the dark, revealing the image of the spy looking into Solo's large but bare motel room. Of course, the villains always had some newly developed secret weapon that Solo and Kuryakin had to disable or destroy.

I am not going to watch 25 further episodes, but I am general entertained by my trip into the past. The Man from U.N.C.L.E. is fun to watch even now.

The Man from U.N.C.L.E., Season One. Warner Brothers DVD/Turner Entertainment, 2008. 11 DVDs.