A VIP's kid turns up missing for her bunk early in the morning. The Counselor panics, and the Counselor-In-Training apparently "experimented" the night before. "The God of the Woods" by Liz Moore wastes no time introducing its conflict. She has various characters as the foci for the story and jumps around from the '50s to the '60s to the '70s to get us up to speed.

Quentin Tarantino has taught me that nonlinear storytelling will eventually run its course, so the multiple viewpoints, though many, did not distract me from enjoyment. The chapters end with cliffhangers, which makes you want to check in on the other timelines. A missing persons case like this lends itself well to the slow burn.

Pan was the God of the woods, and his name gives us the word "panic" due to the fear he put on people. Mourning families and the wrongfully accused in this novel embody that. Since I have watched a lot of SVU in the past 21 years, I studied the novel's language, place, and time to see which suspects did not qualify as sketchy.

The book's characters keep your interest, and you do not know what they will do next. Each struggling one appears broken or from a broken home. From the grieving mother to the confused camp counselor, everyone is experiencing trauma in an inspiring way. Any family that watches two children disappear will self-medicate and develop trust issues.

As a regular mystery reader, I kept obsessing over new plot points and analyzing their likelihood based on when the author introduced them in the novel. There are just enough suspects to make it interesting but digestible. The less you know, the better, so skip reading the flap. Enjoy the suspense and speculate. I never guess correctly, but you might.

"No Right to an Honest Living: The Struggles of Boston's Black Workers in the Civil War Era" by Jacqueline Jones tells stories of people who succeeded with the deck stacked against them. Boston did the most to combat slavery but also the least to improve the quality of life after emancipation. Jones does a ridiculous amount of research to demonstrate this inequality.

The Black residents of Boston suffered from prejudice, for sure, but some of the bad luck that they experienced would make you cry. The odds were not in their favor. Characters from other historically significant stories, like John Brown and William Craft, make appearances to fight against these injustices and show why they happen to otherwise good people.

A fun game here in Maryland is to debate what caused the Civil War, and Jones demonstrates why it was such a dramatic debate. Abe Lincoln made it seem like the slavery question was over after the Emancipation Proclamation, but the struggle had just begun. As usual, the Black community in Boston tried to immerse themselves in more culture but found that it did not matter to most whites.

The three parts (pre-Civil War, Civil War, and Reconstruction) have three different stories to tell, and they are all engaging and relevant. The only advantage to the last section is that people start finding a wider range of job opportunities and education; thankfully, teaching is one of the more popular.

Jones illustrates how political mumbo jumbo and odd prejudice impeded progress. She does exhaustive research to do so. Historians, more than most, indicate why nonfiction qualifies as the hardest genre to write well. She takes something that few of us knew about and shows how it connects to modern society and the xenophobia that still exists today. It deserved the Pulitzer.

"Properties of Thirst" by Marianne Wiggins tells us about World War II from the perspective of the United States mainland. If you live in a temperamental land, a Japanese camp (nomenclature is essential) is unwelcome. We have a wide range of well-developed characters to show how Pearl Harbor and the incendiary attitude toward the Asian population changed lives in Southern California.

The story, surrounding the neighboring landowner and the Department of the Interior architect, shows people going about their jobs with at least some good intentions. Some even try to create for the subjugated. Schiff, the working stiff from the Department of the Interior entrusted with the home for 1,000 Asians, falls for the landowner's daughter, and things become complicated.

With Father, Son, Daughter, and Architect, you learn a lot about their backgrounds, to the point that you do not know the main character, which works. Shiff battles politics in his duty to build a camp and finds people upset with the process in various ways, citing the hypocrisy of FDR's Four Freedoms while denying rights to citizens.

The collection of viewpoints enables you to take a break from the most emotional storylines. Very little death occurs "on screen," but the time is heavy, especially for amateur history students. You have so many cultures represented (Jewish, Asian, and Hispanic) that you can focus on the turbulent era and realize that it affected many people in many ways.

Wiggins lost the ability to read or write after a stroke, so she wrote "Properties of Thirst" over a few years after her daughter helped her finish, making this a fantastic achievement. The characters here are special and enjoyable, and the book's non-linear storytellers will please those who want to think about what they are reading; my thumb is up with much admiration.

If you are looking for light entertainment about the Holocaust, "The Postcard" by Anne Berest is not that book. Should you desire something heavy that packs an emotional wallop, look no further. I have learned a lot about Jewish culture, but here we see lively celebrations and abject suffering, the latter making the former all the more tragic and bittersweet.

I needed to consult an AI family tree a few times to ensure I followed correctly. Some ill-fated characters in 1940 recognized the historically significant horrors they were experiencing, and others saw it as an opportunity. Things become real only when they begin to assign barracks and numbers, and the frightened reader recognizes the intense claustrophobia and fear that awaits them.

The storyline goes like this. The Berest family receives a postcard with nothing written but their ancestors' names. The narrator then makes it her mission to find out who sent it and why. The result is a mixture of survivor's guilt and anti-Semitism that most likely affects a large number of Jewish descendants. Judaism, part culture and part religion, carries significant weight in one's identity.

The modern-day narrative becomes a mystery for Anne to solve about the postcard. She tries to determine which family, friends, or neighbors were involved. If you or any of your relatives have gone down the family history rabbit hole before, you will recognize Anne's relentless pursuit of the sad truth and what she finds.

Some characters and sad plotlines happen late in the process, and I found that the ambitious writer had a different moral and lesson, not decreasing the quality, than I anticipated. The ending is chaotic, confusing, and random, but I fear that was accurate for French Jews in 1942. It still amazes me how many stories have come out of this time.

Full disclosure: if I didn't pursue award-winners, I would only read murder mysteries and historical fiction. "The Frozen River" by Ariel Lawhon is the best of both genres for fans. A midwife and healer in the 1700s stumbles on a mysterious death, and the men in the legal profession dismiss her expert opinion, not a new theme, but one that Lawhon presents well.

Martha Ballard was a real person who gave birth nine times and did everything in her power to make pregnant women comfortable and successful. Public opinion supported rapists even when evidence incriminated them. Martha's duties require a wide range of responsibilities, including reading the signs of childbirth and even burying children born dead to spare the mother.

Historical fiction of many types has focused on how much it sucked to be a woman in the 1700s, so I admire an author that can present this motif in new ways. Add the concept that wealthy men in power have the means to make their transgressions disappear, and you feel like you know where this sad story is going.

The use of flashbacks helps the plot as we learn what Martha went through to enter midwifery and develop the empathy she "currently" has; therefore, more than the crime matters. The legal issues echo the double standards in the post-Revolutionary War atmosphere and add to Martha's character analysis. You do not get where she did in her career without natural caring.

Mistress Ballard shows an aptitude for family life and prenatal care, making you cheer for her. Even her quick interactions with lesser-developed characters will bring on the unexpected emotion. The ending ties up everything nicely, and the author's note shows how intricately the author inserted kernels of truth into a work of fiction and made it digestible for everyone.

Hampton Sides is the kind of history teacher that you wish you had. He takes the little-known mystery of larger-than-life explorers like James Cook and makes their discovery time accessible to novices. Explorers and sailors were the aristocrats of their class. "The Wide Wide Sea: Imperial Ambition, First Contact and the Fateful Final Voyage of Captain James Cook" is the adventure you didn't know you needed.

Cook's last mission led to his demise, as he developed a relationship with Hawaiian natives that went wrong. Knowing how quickly diseases spread to those who seldom meet new people, this is no surprise. In 1776, people would give anything for feathers and nails, and this simple greed also led to conflict. It was quite the world.

Cook develops anger that his friends claim he did not have before. Someone stole a nanny goat, and he responded by destroying large pieces of land. His Polynesian sidekick, Mai, even carries out this carnage against his people. The Islanders had a healthy respect for and fear of Cook, but you begin to sense the moment when things went wrong.

Since his death is mysterious, we have several hints for the main culprit behind Cook's demise. Once natives start trading otter pelts for golden weapons, the air is ominous. When survival was the only goal, Cook did what he could for each goal, but the Hawaiians had other plans. The inevitable ending is more tragic than I had anticipated.

You have to take certain things into account when appreciating the setting. The low life expectancy makes the story more tragic, and the lawlessness of killing someone that slighted you makes the actions seem more random. There is no denying the adventure of sailors in the age of exploration, so the story carries much weight for history buffs.

"My Friends" by Hisham Matar is a winding, unpredictable novel about Libya's past and future. The last book I read from him was "The Return," nonfiction about his father's exile from his homeland, and those themes continue here. We, as Americans, know little about the country and only know that we attacked them based on human rights violations. Khaled, a man who left and cannot return, embodies these ideas.

I was between the ages of eight and ten when the story occurred, so my knowledge of the Qaddafi regime was limited then. If you protest like Khaled and leave, the government bans you from the country. Even after they shoot him, he is persona non grata and stuck at the University of Edinburgh.

It was 1984, and this society of tapped phones and paranoia seemed far away. Say what you will, but we do not have that kind of fear about our travels and decisions. The main characters share a love of literature, and we remember it as a freedom we take for granted. Could you not take my books away?

In my reviews, I make it a point not to reveal anything that happens after the first half of the book, even if the flap summary lists an occurrence as a significant plot point. It made it difficult for me to buy into what the author deemed essential. A bit of subtle character development helped me care about everyone.

The message of friendship and identity is strong, and you will want to learn more about life as a Libyan. Those who do not enjoy slow burns may wish to steer clear. You will enjoy the brain food if you like historical fiction about cultures we seldom discuss here in America. Hisham Matar has taught me about Libya twice thoroughly.

"The Mighty Red" employs the classic literary trope of making a small town seem vast by portraying all its residents as necessary. A failed engagement is our focal point, but there's so much more that goes on. Two men trying to marry the same woman form the main story, but so much else happens that you could easily oversimplify and sell the novel short.

Our heroine, Kismet, agrees to marry Gary after drinking, following the third request. She immediately regrets her decision and plots an exit strategy. Hugo anxiously awaits his overdue opportunity. Somehow, the wedding proceeds and Mother Crystal worries about her daughter's happiness and future. The story is so bizarre that you cannot look away. Does this stuff happen?

Erdrich portrays the plight of a new wife pining for another relationship more as bizarre than wrong. I had no idea what torn Kismet would do from one fleeting moment to the next. Once the book passes its halfway point, the main plot returns after taking a backseat to the character and setting development, none of which helps explain why the marriage occurred.

With so many characters, I often struggled to figure out who was necessary, and the book reveals that slowly. Hugo, the "other man," was mysterious and not as evil as the average home wrecker. Gary and his friends also have intentions that we do not discover right away, which shows them to be cruel and, at the same time, more typical.

To recommend this winding story to you, I need to know how much you enjoy thinking because most of the subtle action lies beneath the surface and is symbolic. Its thesis remains that we are journeymen, not the sum of our experiences. If we stay on course, we can still achieve what we want and need on life's path.

Marjan Kamali wrote "The Lion Women of Tehran" for people who doubt class struggle exists in countries other than the United States. A wealthy family loses its father and goes down a level or two. The young Ellie misses her best friend's family, but Mom declares them beneath her. A patriarchial society limits a young girl's thoughts about bettering her situation.

When Elaheh and childhood friend Homa reunite after years apart, the novel takes on the universal feeling of childhood friendship returning after girls approach adulthood and their future. One prioritizes marriage and family, while the other hopes for a less-traditional career in law. This dichotomy mirrors the female opinion in Iran in the early 1960s. Thinking for yourself was rare.

The flap mentions the "ultimate betrayal" between two friends, which is shocking, albeit easy to see coming. The Communist versus Royalist nature was bound to create some unwanted headaches. I did not expect one disloyalty to lead to a much greater atrocity and suffering. Societies all over have felt as if communism is such a sin that any punishment is fitting.

A woman recommended this book to me, and it has themes of feminism. The culture in Iran is fascinating, and the ways that females seek higher education and careers will inspire you. When we eventually arrive at 1979, those like me, too young to remember it, will realize why so many fought against rampant injustice and wanton misogyny.

The ability to have happy endings in unpredictable ways separates our best authors from Hallmark movie directors. Kamali creates two characters, Ellie and Homa, who deserve one another. You even like the Lion Women enough to accept their hard-earned success even when the realities of Iran are less than ideal for females. Climaxes like this are why I love books.

"Tell Me Everything" by Elizabeth Strout continues the interconnected stories of characters from her other novels. You can quickly jump into this book, even if you're new to Strout's work. Olive Kitteridge, literature's favorite misanthrope, plays a supporting role. If you're unfamiliar with the entire series, be prepared to revisit cast lists and names to understand each character's role in the Amgash series fully.

Though the protagonists are a few individuals, you'll immerse yourself in many names and stories. You'll encounter familiar characters like Bob Burgess, Lucy Barton, and Olive Kitteridge, each with a rich and compelling narrative. The story centers around a man accused of murder who seeks well-known Bob's legal counsel when his invalid mother turns up dead.

Bob suffers a personal loss while defending his client, so the fragility of his life plays a significant role. His professional interviews show multiple people affected by death very differently. Like most literary lawyers, he is battling his internal demons and throwing himself into his work to avoid dwelling on them. His dysfunctional marriage does not help matters much, either.

The scenes between Bob and Lucy (married to other people) grow on you because the author dares to make intimacy about something other than a physical relationship or casual sex. Olive's parts require a little background knowledge since you must deduce why she is such an influential figure in her lonely town. I highly recommend Strout's previous work for that.

The ending wraps up in a way that seems like the end of a significant party (and it is) in which everyone walks away with a better sense of who they are, even if the individual stories do not all have closure. You may enjoy other authors more, but few, if any, have Strout's character development ability and inherent storytelling.

"The Love Elixir of Augusta Stern" by Lynda Cohen Loigman is a romance but more than that. It weaves two timelines together seamlessly and will remind you why you like historical fiction. Imagine a pharmacist's daughter in the '20s aspiring to follow in her father's footsteps while receiving less transitional advice from her great aunt about herbal remedies. Then, we visit Augusta 60 years later.

My favorite critic is an older British woman who inspires me to read about people very different from me. Augusta Stern enters a retirement home in 1987 and faces her past. Two men fight over her, and we slowly hear why that happened in the '80s. My point: I am not the target audience, yet I related to the protagonist anyway.

Augusta loves pharmacy, but her great aunt's recipes intrigue her. Could herbs and spices enhance clarity and fertility, harmonizing with traditional medicine and doctors? The Augusta turning 80 shows us that this flirtation with homeopathic medicine may not have ended well, but we do not figure out the specifics until later in the novel.

Don't get me wrong. Some of my exes seem like charming adults, but living in a retirement home with two of my exes talking about what it all meant, like Rob Gordon in High Fidelity, sounds like my idea of Hell. Augusta is emotional about it all but handles it in stride for the most part. When I am eighty, my teenage self should seem distant.

It adds up to a unique and personal literary experience. Prohibition and gang activity make entertaining historical fiction. I grew to care about Augusta. Loigman does a great job refuting my arguments in the Author's Note. Try your turbulent eighties for those who feel too old for second chances in their young, adventurous forties.

"Small Rain" by Garth Greenwell starts in the claustrophobic confines of an American emergency room during the pandemic's peak. I, for one, am thankful for having never experienced that firsthand. After the ER, we ended up in a hospital room, explained by the dizzying stream of consciousness accented by page-long paragraphs.

We meander from the nameless narrator's abusive upbringing and difficult early adulthood, the kinds of things that one ponders when considering one's mortality. It all adds up to a dizzying experience when we do not precisely know what to feel. If discussing your health led to concerns about your mortality, you may relate to many of the narrator's thoughts. He has no name, and his loved ones only have initials.

The articles describe the book as an indictment of our healthcare system, but the writer does not blame the employees. The bare-bones budget does not engender a fault-free atmosphere. The uncertainty allows the patient to think about the pride of homeownership and his understanding of poetry. The mind goes here when the doctors try to solve multiple mysteries simultaneously.

The process seems like a dream, how we envision one's life passing before one's eyes. What memories did your mind catalog, and which would be necessary when you start thinking about "the end"? Even when you face the possibility of going home, patients feel like they are institutionalized and fear the next steps. The feeling is always pleasant, but the author gets it right.

I would marvel at horror movies that did not seem like much as I watched them but made me nervous walking out into the regular world. "Small Rain" works like that. The author may appear to be rambling, but the story stays with you when you think about life. I was on the journey with him.

"James" by Percival Everett has the unenviable position of receiving almost every accolade. My eighth-grade English teacher gave us a list of 20 classics, and we had to do three book reviews. "Huckleberry Finn" was my third and favorite. I do not require but highly encourage rereading Twain since some actions assume your recollection. It is the same southern adventure.

James ends up by himself and discovers the freedom of reading and writing while recognizing the danger of doing either in public. He meets allies who share his hopes and fears. He also meets some swindlers and tries to survive among them, knowing he does not have many options. Those who have forgotten most of Twain's work will benefit from their ignorance.

Stories come back frequently from previous parts of the story. When they lynch an enslaved person over a pencil, as requested by Jim, word travels quickly through the grapevine. The writing incident is not his last predicament; this benefits readers since they will recall some events but not all. The minstrel show slipped my feeble mind.

Even when influenced by classic literature, reading about slavery never gets easier. When James puts himself in trouble for the greater good, you feel for him as someone who wants to see his family. Kids read the banned book "Huckleberry Finn" in junior high, but "James" has very adult content and scenes of violence. Twain's work had more of a romantic feel.

When related to the Civil War, the story's timing provides a great backdrop to America. Jim's questions about freedom most likely echoed the anxieties of all involved with the enslaved. The ending, which I will not reveal, has the intensity and audacity that most books could not achieve. Its late climax gives the reader great satisfaction and a dropped jaw.

"Model Home" by Rivers Solomon takes the standard haunted house novel and gives it a modern, woke twist. Imagine a neurodivergent family facing evil spirits on top of that inconvenience. When three very different siblings turn up at their loathed childhood home to find their parents dead, emotions come up for which they are unprepared. The house becomes the main suspect.

The multiple timelines serve a purpose. Ezri analyzes her childhood compared to the modern child-rearing they must do. Today, her siblings live genderless and explore veganism, allowing the family to examine how their upbringing influenced their contemporary existence. As a character, Ezri lacks direction from their past. A world of hookup apps introduces them to men who take advantage of their low self-esteem.

Goodreads lists this as an "LGBT" novel, and most of the characters qualify, but what stands out is the kind of universal humanity that they show to one another. You do not expect this in the horror genre, but the family drama is convincing and compelling. Novels about perfect people annoy the heck out of me.

Children faced with life after the death of both parents experience a broad spectrum of emotions. These adults know that their mother and father mistreated them and realize that they may never have closure. These elements of family drama make you forget that you are reading horror and allow you to enjoy the individuals. I think we all relate to holding a funeral for someone about whom you had mixed feelings.

When you receive answers, you will think it was right in front of your face the whole time. Since the lack of a specific genre limits cliches, you do not see it coming. Just be prepared for a late climax and empathize with the siblings' eeriness and pronounced wariness.

Even with history books and attempts to learn about cultures, some fall through the cracks. "Everything We Never Had" by Randy Ribay shows the Filipino struggle through three generations, and we know about their unique challenges. Since the novel deals with different generations of the same family, the reader learns much about why subsequent offspring are who and how they are.

A common ultra-conservative argument is that we need to stop making things about race. Fine. Fair, but reading about immigrants who came here to make a better life for themselves will make you think about your ancestors, even if that makes you prouder of America. Some of my relatives have the same frustrating relationship with their elders. They admire them while still annoyed with their stodgy ways.

The four generations have a unique mix of pride and disgust for their heritage. I have had conversations with Cuban-Americans that had the same tone. If we recognize immigrants' struggles in the 1920s, we better understand the attitudes that descend from that frustration and uncertainty. I was rooting for the men to find a way to communicate.

The book's goal is optimistic, so I wondered how many situations like this were successful. Some of us embrace our inability to talk as a masculine quirk. This discord gives the author a challenging task: can the characters come to a resolution without tying up the strands too neatly? You know what I mean if you have ever tried to enact change in a relative over 70.

So, what have we learned? Listen. Family history has much to tell us, and elders do not always recognize which details are worth sharing. Almost every male has had this conflict with his father since previous men did not speak to their sons. Most are learning how now.

People have personified animals in literature for generations, but this Newbery winner may be the first to give them the same thoughts and emotions as their human counterparts. "The Eyes & The Impossible by Dave Eggers is a must-read for elementary students. Dogs have spoken before in literature, but this is the first to imagine them as full-thinking beings and narrators who examine human behavior.

Our hero dog, Johannes, serves as "The Eyes" in his park. Other animals rely on him to tell them the goings-on. The dogs, buffalo, and birds all work together. The animals try to help humans but find that animal control easily mistakes aid for burden. We have not heard of Harambe for years, but we see echoes.

The dog wears sweaters and tries to outrun Animal Control, taking on different roles as plot devices designed to keep Johannes as the watchdog in the urban park. The personification makes the animals sympathetic creatures running from detection. The writer subtly gives the canine thought and rationalization abilities with regular limitations, like the concept of time.

The author does a bang-up job of laying out the hierarchy of animals. We do not expect the goats to feel subservient to dogs, but that is the law of the land. We find the animals in precarious situations, and they have to remind us that this middle-grade book will allow minimal harm to come to the mortal characters.

Middle-grade books rank among the most difficult to write. Animal protagonists require a bit of silliness but enough introspection to keep some of them as sympathetic and relatable characters. In this case, Johannes suffers a near-death experience and finds a way to save his hide while protecting his closest confidants at the same time. The ending, therefore, is satisfying and not very predictable.

In "Clear" by Carys Davies, we are drawn into the unique story of an impoverished preacher assigned to 'clear' the last inhabitant of a remote Scottish island. As a language teacher, I found the interaction between the two men during the Scottish Clearances fascinating.

I've often noticed that flap summaries can sometimes reveal too much. In the case of "Clear," the listed genre inadvertently spoils the book's ambitious conclusion. I longed for the thrill of discovering the story's twists and turns in real time.

The concept of two men brought together by tragic circumstances is timeless. A person who has lived in isolation for so long will undoubtedly benefit from another's presence. The setting, focused on the Scottish Clearances, is the novel's most substantial aspect, as I needed more prior knowledge about this historical event.

Despite my reservations about the ending, I was captivated by Carys Davies' masterful use of imagery and her skillful character development. This is a challenging art form, especially when the characters barely speak to each other and do not share a common language. Here, I recognize my areas for improvement in a novel. I realize I could never have written myself. She has four other books that I need to find soon.

If you are a reader who can enjoy the journey without fixating on a predictable destination, this book is for you. Most authors could only dream of painting such vivid word pictures. If you are a reader who can enjoy the journey without dwelling on a predictable destination, this book is for you. Most authors could only dream of painting such word pictures.

So, you will enjoy this unique book more if you know little about it. I ended up satisfied with the outcome since it still had surprises for those who persevered.

'Orbital' by Samantha Harvey, with its 207 pages, is a thought-provoking journey that does not pretend to be something it is not. It takes us into the minds of astronauts and cosmonauts as they float around the Earth, sharing their profound thoughts about what they see. This deep and existential narrative values introspection over dramatic events, a style that may not appeal to everyone but certainly left me with a lot to ponder.

While we often ponder the moon landing and the search for life on Earth, 'Orbital' by Samantha Harvey takes a different approach. It prompts us to consider the implications of encountering other beings and what that means for our place in the universe. The book Sailors of the Stars focuses on Earth and its appearance from the outside, a perspective few will experience, reinforcing our secure place in this world.

As a 9-year-old, when the Challenger exploded, I didn't dwell much on its impact on the space travel industry. But Samantha Harvey, the author of 'Orbital, 'delves deep into this existential question. What did it mean? Her contemplation extends to the very purpose of space travel, often meandering in thought to the point of losing the reader.

Still, there is some beautiful imagery here. If you have difficulty imagining what Earth would look like from the International Space Station, Harvey paints a picture. The astronauts are learning as they go, which means we are, too. They stand in awe of how they see the Earth and recognize different countries and borders. Some have more extended tours of duty than others.

I have more friends doing reading challenges than I previously imagined, so a short but deep work like this will serve its lofty purpose. You will love its universal message and understand its profound significance to humanity.

"Master-Slave Husband Wife: An Epic Journey from Slavery to Freedom" by Ilyon Woo takes a topic many have written about but makes it fresh and new. William and Ellen Craft met through slavery yet wanted to reunite in freedom as a married couple. The light-skinned Ellen passes for White, and William plays the part of her loyal enslaved well enough.

How they pulled this off is the most exciting part of the early pages. In 1840, the "one drop" rule was in effect, and if Ellen even looked "a little black," it could endanger her. They travel through several states on several modes of transportation to the free spots, and nearby Aberdeen and Havre de Grace make an unexpected appearance.

The novel suffers a bit when it leaves the story of the Crafts to describe more about the politicking surrounding slavery in the mid-1800s since most experienced readers have heard the stories before. They were sometimes necessary, but most people are informed enough to know most of them.

The author speaks of Henry Clary and Frederick Douglass a great deal as they played roles in the emancipation process. The Crafts transitioned to activism and were the protagonists we knew little about before reading this. I wanted to know more about them. For that reason, any fault I found was with the writing, not the story itself. My history buff friends may have heard this story before.

William and Ellen Craft inspire us all since they found a way out when the world did not seem willing to give them that chance. Like most nonfiction writers, Woo researched tirelessly to provide a story that few history textbooks have touched. The 1840s, as a period of slavery, deserves more attention since people had to write their own rules even to sniff freedom.

"A Fever in the Heartland: The Ku Klux Klan's Plot to Take Over America, and the Woman Who Stopped Them" helps one with only a working knowledge of the KKK figure out how they were so popular in the 1920s. You will find most political rhetoric familiar, but knowing that the group wielded such power may shock you.

Reading about the Klan's rhetoric, you can't help but recognize the familiar pattern of scapegoating. The Klan's strategy was simple: you were either with them or against them. The establishment of a common enemy was crucial to their mission. It's a tactic that still resonates in today's political landscape, serving as a cautionary tale.

The Klan, despite its proclaimed values, exhibited a striking hypocrisy, engaging in the very vices it condemned. The influential figures in the group held sway over society, echoing Will Rogers' observation: "It is the most religion preached and the least practiced." You should be tuned into different news channels if this doesn't resonate.

The action starts at about the halfway point, in which we read about a devastating rape, kidnapping, and assault. Reading about rape never gets more accessible or less shocking. The legal proceedings that fellow show that men in power have been getting away with atrocities for generations. Like a good crime drama, you expect a cheerful ending but cannot see how it is possible when you recognize the breadth of control Grand Dragons indeed possesses.

The legal proceedings remind you of how hard it is to convict men in power. When the word of others holds so much weight, people stand up about the legal burden of proof. The trial reminded me that hearing about reasonable doubt is the biggest necessary evil in our society. Any police procedural teaches that painful lesson in hour-long stints.