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Youth counselor Bradbury-Haehl (The Freshman Survival Guide) provides reassurance for readers adjusting to adulthood in this pragmatic handbook for building a successful life. One’s 20s are a strange time full of transitions and life lessons, Bradbury-Haehl writes, reminding readers, “If you are still feeling a little in-between, that’s to be expected.” She addresses big life transitions, such as attaining financial independence and making changes in living arrangements, encouraging those leaving home to develop a plan with their parents and to ask for help when necessary to “prevent finances from becoming a battleground.” For the newly employed, Bradbury-Haehl identifies difficult coworker types to look out for (the crab, bully, and gossip) and warns to “be polite, but don’t get too cozy” with one’s colleagues. A chapter on grief—both processing it and offering support to others—provides invaluable guidance on funeral etiquette and what to do when people say the wrong thing (such as saying “thank you for being here” or pivoting to an innocuous topic). The final section focuses on the importance of forgiveness and the benefits of diversity. For an age group overwhelmed with information, Bradbury-Haehl finds a way to make it all manageable. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

In this captivating debut, essayist Lin explores the gay bar as a cultural institution whose time may have passed. Focusing mainly on Los Angeles, San Francisco, and London, Lin delves into centuries of written and oral histories to chart the development of the first gay bars from as far back as the 13th century through to today, the roles different establishments played in gay liberation movements, and the many venues that have closed due to lack of traffic, rent increases, or transformation into heterosexual hangouts. He also muses on contemporary queer youth’s desire for quiet “safe spaces” as opposed to the fun, raucous, and often “raunchy” meeting places of years past. It isn’t all glowing nostalgia, though; Lin skewers what he sees as gay bars’ “persecution of the effeminate” gay man, and recaps a mid-1970s racial profiling controversy at Studio One in Los Angeles in which claims were made “by black and Chicano men that they were frequently denied entrance.” Lin’s writing is mostly sharp, though there are some bumps, as with a staid academic reference to Foucault and wordplay that can land with more of a thud than a zing (“We head[ed] to a venue less sleazy, more cheesy,” he writes about a bar-hopping night out). Nonetheless, this cogent cultural history sparks more often than not. Readers who want to go beyond Stonewall will find plenty to consider. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Journalist DiCaro debuts with a sweeping takedown of misogyny in America’s sports media and professional leagues. She describes the censure (from her employers) and online harassment (from sports fans) she receives when reporting on the sexual misconduct of athletes, and critiques her employers, including CBS Radio, for failing to hire diverse staffers and protect female employees from abuse. Though her primary focus is on media, DiCaro also looks at the unequal treatment of female pro athletes, and the ways in which organizations such as the Houston Astros normalize violence against women by signing players who have been suspended for domestic abuse and then “putting a moratorium” on how long journalists can report on the matter. DiCaro’s investigative journalism chops shine through in her insightful interviews, and she crafts engrossing narratives out of historical events like the battle to get female reporters access to locker rooms after games. Ultimately, DiCaro believes that if media outlets, teams, and fans want to address the deeply entrenched culture of inequality in the way women are treated in sports, they need to “grow the fuck up.” This bracing call to arms is a step in that direction. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Educator Tubbs debuts with an engrossing triple biography of Alberta King, mother of Martin Luther King Jr.; Louise Little, mother of Malcom X; and Berdis Baldwin, mother of James Baldwin. Though these women have been “almost entirely ignored throughout history,” Tubbs writes, their teachings and approaches to motherhood “were translated directly into their sons’ writing, speeches and protests.” All three overcame prejudice and social restrictions on an almost daily basis and “strove to equip their children not only to face the world but to change it,” Tubbs writes. Alberta King (neé Williams) earned a college degree and became a leader of Ebenezer Baptist Church, where her father, husband, and son all served as pastors. Louise Little (neé Langdon), an immigrant from Grenada, was a leader in the Marcus Garvey movement. Berdis Baldwin (neé Jones) raised her children single-handedly after her husband’s death, and pushed them to fight hard for their educational opportunities. Though the world “tried to deny their humanity and their existence,” Tubbs writes, Alberta, Louise, and Berdis gave their sons the foundation to achieve greatness. Tubbs skillfully draws parallels between each woman’s story, and vividly captures the early years of the civil rights movement. This immersive history gives credit where it’s long overdue. (Feb.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Radio broadcaster Gold (Fun Is a Serious Business) delivers a cinematic account of an unlikely romance that blossomed in Nazi-occupied Yugoslavia. In 1942, Josefine Lobnik passed a note to New Zealand prisoner of war Bruce Murray through the barbed wire of a prison camp outside Maribor, Slovenia. The message asked Bruce to look for Josefine’s missing brother, Leopold, whom she feared had been captured by the Nazis. All four Lobnik siblings were partisan fighters; 18-year-old Josefine smuggled documents and helped fugitive POWs. Though Bruce determined that Leopold wasn’t in the camp, he couldn’t get a reply message to Josefine. A year later, their paths crossed again at the farm of Josefine’s cousin in Radkersburg, Austria, where Bruce had been sent on a work detail. Their connection deepened, and in April 1945, Josefine helped Bruce escape from the Nazis and join the Soviet forces invading Radkersbug. After the war, Bruce and Josefine married and settled in New Zealand, where they raised three children. Gold—who admits to taking liberties with the timeline and some character details—sets a brisk pace and vividly describes the landscape of war-torn Europe. This WWII love story enthralls. Agent: Jennifer Barclay, Jennifer Barclay Literary (Mar.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Character sketches and nostalgic detail pepper this wide-ranging essay collection from Kushner (The Mars Room). Blending criticism with memoir, Kushner tackles such subjects as abolitionism and the Bay Area’s biker scene in the 1980s. “Girl on a Motorcycle” and “Not with the Band” trace the author’s exposure to “hard” lifestyles, including surviving a high-speed motorcycle crash in Mexico and, while working as a bartender in San Francisco, realizing that mere proximity to rock fame would never satisfy her own creative ambition. “We Are Orphans Here” is a striking account of both the violence and the vitality of Shuafat Refugee Camp, where Palestinians live as “refugees in their own city.” “Lipstick Traces” and “Duras with an S” bring the work of Clarice Lispector and Marguerite Duras to life with vivid biographical details (Lispector had “a sense of humor that veered from naïf wonder to wicked comedy”), while “Made to Burn” and “Bunny” offer glimpses into the genesis of Kushner’s 2013 novel The Flamethrowers. The memoir essays sometimes settle for simple nostalgia rather than arriving at a revelation, a dilemma Kushner seems aware of: “The things that I’ve seen and the people I’ve known: maybe it just can’t matter to you.” Still, the author’s fans will enjoy these insights into her evolution as a writer. (Apr.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

French blogger and women’s rights activist Harmange debuts with a provocative yet unconvincing argument that misandry, or the hatred of all men, is healthy, liberating, and even joyful for women. Calling on women to stop being afraid of accusations of emotionality and to embrace their rage at misogyny, sexual violence, and the patriarchy, Harmange characterizes feminism as “the interface between private anger... and public anger.” She proclaims her lack of sympathy for men’s concerns and calls on women to stop praising men for their “pathetically trivial” attempts toward gender equality. Declaring that “female solidarity is never frivolous,” Harmange celebrates the power of women-only communities, and vows to make “sisterhood [her] compass.” Unfortunately, a rather bland feminist critique of her own mostly happy straight marriage steals the thunder of her argument, making the issue more about men’s socialization rather than their essential nature, and her suggestion to reject compulsory heterosexuality in favor of single childlessness feels rather narrow-minded and out of touch with the reality of women’s lives. Ultimately, Harmange’s take feels more like a bloodless thought exercise than an authentic worldview. This manifesto packs a weak punch. (Jan.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

McWhorter (Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue), a professor of linguistics and American studies at Columbia University, excavates the origins of “the bedrock swears of modern English” in this playful account. “Vested with the power of transgression,” curse words originate on the opposite side of the brain from ordinary words, McWhorter explains, in the areas associated with emotion. He touches on differences between men’s and women’s speech before surveying classic profanities including “fuck” (“the sheer frequency with which one can say it is dazzling”), “shit” (“quite the journey for a word that means poop”), and “motherfucker” (it “likely just happened to catch on among black people in the same way that hackysack caught on among white ones”). In a class by themselves are “the N-word” and the inflammatory “faggot,” which referred to women before its association with gay men. McWhorter acknowledges the discomfort these words might evoke, but maintains a light touch throughout (“the linguist does not judge”). He tracks the evolution of each word’s usage through a hodgepodge of cultural examples, including Gilbert and Sullivan librettos, Stephen Sondheim scores, the film The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, and quotes by architect Frank Lloyd Wright. This colorful, trivia-filled etymology will appeal to word snobs with a wild streak. Agent: Dan Conaway, Writers House. (May)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Baldwin (Chicago’s New Negroes), a professor of American studies at Trinity College, delivers a well-informed and highly critical study of higher education’s “increasingly powerful hold” over U.S. cities. When academic institutions reshape downtown areas under the mantle of “urban development,” they rarely do so to the benefit of existing communities, Baldwin contends. He cites evidence that the University of Pennsylvania displaced 600 low-income and African-American families to build a science center in West Philadelphia in the 1960s, and that Yale University’s “multimillion-dollar tax emption” contributes to the budget deficit in New Haven, Conn. Surveying expansions of the University of Chicago into Chicago’s South Side, Columbia University into West Harlem, and Arizona State University into Phoenix, Baldwin documents police shootings and racial profiling in the name of campus security, the replacement of vibrant public spaces with fortress-like institutional designs, and the wrangling of “public money for private profits.” Combining in-depth research, practicable models of reform (e.g. the University of Winnipeg’s sustainable development program), and the lively voices of community organizers and college insiders, Baldwin makes a convincing case. This passionate call to hold universities more accountable resonates. Agent: Zoë Pagnamenta, the Zoë Pagnamenta Agency. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink

Tawwab, a relationship therapist with more than half a million Instagram followers, debuts with a comprehensive debut guide on how to understand and establish interpersonal boundaries. The first section explains what boundaries are, how they are crossed, and the short- and long-term implications of consistent boundary violations. She identifies six types of boundaries—physical, sexual, intellectual, emotional, material, and time—and dispenses tips on how to uphold personal limits (such as “I’m more of a handshaker” for those setting a physical boundary) and detect when a boundary might be crossed (such as overly sexual joking being a red flag for “sexual boundary violation”). In the second section, Tawwab suggests scenarios in which boundaries need to be set—including with family, work, and social media—and walks the reader through them with examples and stories. For instance, Tawwab explains how to respond to microaggressions at work through assertiveness, how to dissuade oversharing through redirection, and ways to stand firm in the face of “guilt trips.” Readers who follow Tawwab on social media and those who find setting boundaries especially difficult will appreciate the advice. Agent: Laura Lee Mattingly, Present Perfect Literary. (Mar.)

Reviewed on 12/18/2020 | Details & Permalink