Read Beat (...and repeat)

Liza Tully’s previous literary effort was a grim thriller set in Siberia. “It was a suspense novel, but I realized it was very dark,” she said.

The author, who wrote Finding Katarina M under the pseudonym Elisabeth Elo, decided to follow that with something a little lighter. The result? The feel-good mystery, The World’s Greatest Detective and Her Just Okay Assistant.

Her latest effort teams Aubrey Merritt, “a brilliant Boomer detective," with Olivia Blount, “an ambitious Gen Z assistant.” Together, the pair repair to the lavish Wild Goose Resort in Vermont to solve a murder—or is it suicide? The clues are there for the reader to come to his or her own conclusion, said Tully, who worked as an editor at a children’s magazine before turning to fiction writing. She’s also worked as a project manager at a tech company and as a counselor at a halfway house. 

A lover of mysteries, particularly those of Agatha Christie, Tully said she followed the approach used by Christie, saving the concluding chapter in her book for “the big reveal,” where the detective lays out her case, lists the clues, and names the suspect.

Tully noted that in the world of mysteries today, she plays it pretty straight in the publishing world that now offers a wide variety of mystery categories—such as historical, psychological, hard-boiled, and others. The “cozy mystery” category usually involves “amateur detectives and cats,” she said.

The fact that so many books get published in this country each year—as many as one million titles by one estimate—might give one pause to someone trying to corral readers. But Tully said the fact that so many books are published “is a sign of a free and healthy society.”

Tully, who lives outside Boston with her family, taught classes at Harvard and Tufts before attending night classes at Boston College, a schedule that allowed her to write during the day. As far as her present writing routine goes, “I’ll start at noon and go until four or five,” she said.

As for her intake of books, Tully loves mysteries but said she often reads those with a critical eye, judging style and substance as she shapes her own future efforts. “For my own pleasure, I tend to read non-fiction. It allows me to learn things that I didn’t know before,” said Tully, citing All the Beauty in the World by Patrick Bringley, a 2023 memoir of a museum guard, as an example.

Michael Doyle's Nightmare in the Pacific is a book about an aspect of World War II you probably haven’t heard before: the saga of Artie Shaw, the big-band leader who took his group on a whirlwind tour of the Pacific in 1942-1943.

What makes this story so interesting are the characters involved: Artie Shaw, himself, the motley group of band members that Shaw recruited himself, as well as figures from the worlds of the military and show business. 

Even before the United States joined the war, Shaw exhibited erratic behavior. At the top of his game in 1939, riding the success of big-band swing and a hit recording of Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine,” Shaw abruptly walked away from the bandstand, disappearing from sight to spend six weeks in Mexico without telling anyone of his whereabouts. 

That was a characteristic of Shaw’s, said Doyle. He would walk away from difficult situations throughout his life. Married eight times (among his brides: movie queens Lana Turner and Ava Gardner), Shaw often turned off the people who were closest to him.

“He was probably a musical genius, but he was also prickly, short-tempered, and driven, Doyle noted. 

Shaw’s epic Pacific roadshow had him playing in Hawaii for several months before heading out to sea where Navy Band 501 played aboard ships, aircraft carriers, as well as indoor and outdoor venues in Guadalcanal, Australia, New Zealand, and islands in between. By all accounts, the band delivered regularly, sharing the hits of the day including his trademark tune "Nightmare," providing entertainment appreciated by military personnel who faced danger far from home.

“Artie had traveled, by some accounting, 68,000 miles throughout the Pacific,” related Doyle in his book. “He had ducked into foxholes and hidden from bombs. He had felt his stomach lurch at sea and in the turbulent air. He had been bedside with the dying, and he had entertained admirals, generals, and foreign dignitaries. He had been cheered by thousands, and he had charmed the president’s wife,” he noted.

And Shaw also had a nervous breakdown that ended his tenure as wartime bandleader. By 1944, Shaw was back in the States, trying to clear his head. 

The band, incidentally, kept playing under the guidance of Sam Donahue, a sax player with the band. The group was sent to play before military crowds in England. They soon became popular favorites, even beating the esteemed Glenn Miller Band in a battle-of-the-bands competition (before Miller lost his life when his airplane went down in the English Channel).

As for Shaw, the post-war music scene brought change. It no longer made economic sense to take 20 musicians on the road. Following the trend that dictated smaller musical groups, Shaw formed the Gramercy Five. But in 1954 he decided to put away his clarinet and walk away from performing completely (save for a brief late-in-life resurrection). He took up sharpshooting as a hobby and appeared occasionally on the What’s My Line TV show.

“As much of a jerk he could be, he had integrity,” said Doyle of Shaw, a musician who didn’t want to spend the last 50 years of his life playing “Begin the Beguine.”

In his own 370-page autobiography, Shaw only devoted three pages to his wartime experiences. Doyle corrects that oversight.

A new book looks at the short history of the freedom of choice.

Some of us have more choices than we’ve ever had—from what to buy and where to live and whom to love, even what to believe--but how did that come about? That’s the basis of the book Sophia Rosenfeld has written, called The Age of Choice: A History of Freedom in Modern Life.

Rosenfeld said she wanted to find those times when the early forms of choice were taking shape—when you could marry whomever you wanted, shop for what you might need, and vote as you saw fit. “I tried to find the moments when the practice was new,” she said.

We haven’t always had so many choices, said Rosenfeld, a professor of history at the University of Pennsylvania. The dance card is one example, as viewed by the author, of a measure of freedom that emerged in the 18th century, developed in the 19th century, and largely disappeared by the early 20th century. 

"Once, though, dance cards had a real function," Rosenfeld noted. Designed mostly by men and used mostly by women, the cards facilitated decision-making in the ballroom. A lady could show that her dance card was already full, but "the expectation for the woman was a yes," she said.

The process was formal and may seem restrictive by today's standards, but it marked a step forward in the age of choice. 

“Rosenfeld demonstrates how modern societies have made the ability to choose the hallmark of freedom, whether in the marketplace, in ideas and belief systems, in courtship, in voting, in feminist and other rights-oriented politics, or in the social and behavioral sciences. But as we learn from Rosenfeld, this equation of choice with freedom can often exclude rather than empower,” said Lizabeth Cohen, author of A Consumers’ Republic: The Politics of Mass Consumption in Postwar America.

Moving from the seventeenth century to today, Rosenfeld pays particular attention to the lives of women, those often with the fewest choices, who have frequently been the drivers of this change.

China is sometimes described as the forgotten theater of war during World War II. But it’s unlikely that the Chinese people have forgotten their eight-year war with Japan, a ferocious engagement that began four years before the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It's estimated that as many as 20 million Chinese died in the war.

In Fallen Tigers, Daniel Jackson recounts U.S. involvement in China, where the country provided supplies and air support to a nation that desperately needed it. U.S. airmen who served in China had to contend with a Japanese invasion that, by 1940, controlled China’s skies, 95 percent of its industry, and one-quarter of the Chinese mainland and half its population, noted Jackson.

Supporting China, a country embroiled in a prolonged civil war at the time, was important to U.S. interests, stated the author, adding that keeping Japan “busy” in China reduced Japanese resources that would otherwise be used against U.S. forces in the Pacific.

Jackson provides accounts of singular heroism on the part of numerous U.S. airmen who served in relative anonymity during their time in China. But there are familiar names, as well.

Claire Lee Chennault is the maverick Army Air Force commander who formed the Flying Tigers, the U.S. group of flyers who struck a blow against Japanese air dominance. 

There’s also Merian Cooper, the WWI veteran who escaped from a Soviet gulag after the war, who went on to co-write and direct King Kong (Cooper, himself, is at the controls of the bi-plane that toppled Kong from the top of the Empire State Building). At the age of 48, Cooper returned to the battlefield during WWII and helped Chennault plan a successful raid on Japanese-controlled Hong Kong.

Before becoming the venerable leader of the Viet Cong during the Vietnam War, Ho Chi Minh was a friend of American forces in WWII. In return for his assistance, he asked for an autographed picture of Chennault and six pistols, explained Jackson. These were items the wily Ho used to forge political alliances.

The Chinese people, themselves, were more than receptive to American assistance during the war, said Jackson. “They knew the risk they were taking by helping Americans,” he said, referring to the Chinese civilians who delivered U.S. airmen who bailed out or survived crash landings to safety. 

U.S. servicemen who landed in the jungle or mountainous terrain were brought back safely 90 percent of the time, Jackson said. Compare that with U.S. airmen downed in Europe during the war--they only had a one in five chance of returning safely, he said.

Despite Japan's policy of deadly reciprocity when it came to dealing with civilian assistance to Americans, the Chinese persevered, the author said. 

Today, the U.S. and China are competing world powers, but it’s important to recall the two countries were once allies who overcame their differences to win a war, said Jackson.

Play This Book Loud is the literary equivalent of a trip to the record store, that enchanting experience of searching for something new from something old. 

Joe Bonomo (pronounced Bo-know-mo, not the Turkish Taffy), an English professor at Northern Illinois University, starts his book that way, recalling the days of the coronavirus when he was offered hand sanitizer and plastic gloves at Green Tangerine, his local record shop. 

From there, we depart on essays on Van Halen’s “Panama,” the Cramps, Green Day, Lester Bangs, Pickwick Records, Dick Clark’s Twenty Years of Rock and Roll double album, to name but a few of the subjects covered. There are also asides on Cragmont Cola (once sold at Safeway supermarkets), radio jingles, and “great archeological artifacts found on YouTube.”

While Bonomo does a lot of looking back, he brings us right to the present, where he feels we’re enjoying a golden age of musical writing. No, it’s no longer confined to the pages of Rolling Stone  or The New Yorker but across the internet, where people like Josh Terry, Steve Pick, Tony Fletcher, Dan Epstein, Heather Ferris, and Aaron Gilbreath, to name a few, are busy posting stories.

Bonomo is busy building his own internet file with the Substack site, No Such Thing as Was. A quick glance at the site reveals that, in addition to posts on Amyl and the Sniffers, the Linda Lindas, Bad Nerves, and the Strokes, there’s a review of George Harrison’s Electronic Sound from 1969, a record that most of us have never heard (the back story on how the record was made may be even more fascinating than the review).

In talking about Lester Bangs, who died at the age of 33 in 1982, Bonomo cites the music journalist as his greatest influence. “He was more than a rock critic. The 45s and album cuts were simply the moving parts that got his words to the page. He was writing about what it means to be alive,” he said.

If you’ve ever come across a Pickwick Records release, you’ll be interested in Bonomo’s take on the subject. The company, which specialized in producing cheap knock-offs of hits of the day, was started in 1950 by Cy Leslie, “a Harvard-educated World War II vet who understood the dynamics of the wallet,” he noted. Recalling a Pickwick release of Beatle favorites, Bonomo is still amazed that the label attempted to duplicate "Mother," John Lennon's primal effort from an early solo album: "Who'd want to tackle a performance so raw and private, not to mention infamous and epochal?"

As for the 1973 Dick Clark release, “a wide-ranging potted history of rock and roll,” Bonomo pointed to the different genres of music represented on the album as well as the historic significance of the era that produced it. At the time of the album’s release, American Graffiti was also hitting theaters with a musical salute to nostalgia.

The author of Play This Book Loud always has something interesting to offer when it comes to the music front. Bonomo makes the point that Green Day, a band that still sells out arenas, has a career that parallels Bruce Springsteen in many ways.

Where else do you get an essay on the 7-Eleven convenience store chain’s 1966 release, “Do the Slurp?” The promo novelty 45 knocked Bonomo out as a kid, a memory he still can’t shake but happily shares with you. 

McKeesport, Pa. has been through a lot in recent decades. Andrew Conte tells the story in his book, Death of the Daily News. The town, located 20 miles from Pittsburgh, once manufactured about 70 percent of all steel tubing used in the United States, earning the moniker of “Tube City.” Like other towns in southwestern Pennsylvania, McKeesport fell on hard times in the 1970s and 1980s as foreign steel imports undercut American manufacturers. The city’s population, that once topped 50,000 in the mid-20th century, is now down to 17,500.

The McKeesport business district, with its movie theaters, furniture stores, jewelry shops, and three department stores, withered away. But on Jan. 1, 2016, McKeesport faced another blow--life without the Daily News, the newspaper that had covered the area since 1884. 

Like so many other papers in small towns across the country, the failure was due to a migration of advertisers to the internet, along with the inevitable decline in readership. No longer were papers owned by a single family or group in the town being served, but rather by media companies whose first responsibility was to stockholders and hedge fund owners.

Along with the loss of an outlet that provided a rundown of local news, the paper meant something else, Conte said. “The newspaper represented a shared sense of identity,” he said. People realized that the local paper was more than headlines and town council coverage. Some recalled that their first job was delivering the paper. Others counted the times family and friends had been pictured in its pages over the years.

Politicians who first breathed a sigh of relief, figuring that they no longer faced tough questions during a campaign or over a council issue, realized they’d also lost their megaphone to communicate accomplishments to the community.

The paper's iconic downtown office, with a black-and-white exterior, checkboard-tiled office, with its large map on the wall, no longer allowed free access to the public. “We lost that connection,” said Conte, founder and manager of the Center for Media Innovation in Pittsburgh.

But Conte still believes local news has a future. The subtitle of his book is How Citizen Gatekeepers Can Save Local Journalism. The work has only just begun to find the right formula that would use modern technology to provide meaningful information to communities like McKeesport, he said.

Digital news outlets are succeeding in places like Santa Cruz, Calif., and in Pennsylvania, where the Center for Media Innovation is operating, said Conte. “We’re also learning what doesn’t work. The Houston Landing was started with a $20 million investment, but the public didn’t take to it. It closed,” he said.

“I’m more encouraged by operations that start small and grow,” said Conte, who calls on the need for “citizen gatekeepers” to bring journalism into the 21st century. “We’re all gatekeepers now. The news now belongs to all of us, and we need to make sense of that,” he said.

Robert Ingersoll lived in Peoria from 1857 to 1877. He was hailed as the greatest orator of his time, the latter half of the 19th century. 

While Ingersoll attracted huge crowds, he had plenty of critics who called him “the Great Infidel” because of his criticism of organized religion. “Religion can make a good man somewhat better,” Ingersoll mused, “but usually it only makes bad men worse.”

While decrying the Bible and organized religion, Ingersoll supported women’s rights while opposing racism and the death penalty. “In an age before microphones and mass media, he was a household name in America—a thunderous voice for liberty, reason, and human dignity,” noted Tom Malone in his new book, The Portable Ingersoll.

Ingersoll had many names—the Great Agnostic, Royal Bob, the most noted of American infidels, and the daring blasphemer.

A successful lawyer, Ingersoll and brother Ebon established a law office in Peoria. After he and his family left central Illinois, Ingersoll lived in Washington, D.C., and New York City. Ingersoll was appointed Attorney General of Illinois before the Civil War where he served as a colonel in the 11th Illinois Cavalry. He was taken prisoner in the war by Nathan Bedford Forrest, the Confederate general who went on to found the Ku Klux Klan. 

A lifelong Republican, Ingersoll gave the nominating speech for James Blaine at the 1876 Republican Convention. Although Blaine did not receive the nomination that year, Ingersoll’s speech was considered to be one of the great convention speeches of the 19th Century. 

Ingersoll delivered another memorable speech that year in Peoria where he focused on the Declaration of Independence in a July Fourth celebration, noted Malone.

“Seven long years of war — fighting for what? For the principle that all men are created equal — a truth that nobody ever disputed except a scoundrel; nobody, nobody in the entire history of this world,” noted Ingersoll in the Peoria speech.

It’s believed that Ingersoll delivered around 1,500 lectures in 30 years, traveling the country while earning huge fees for his speeches, said Malone. “There’s a lot made of his focus on religion. That’s understandable but he was so much more than that. His speeches dealt with art and history, subjects like Shakespeare, Burns, and Thomas Paine. These were people he viewed as heroes,” he said.

Among Ingersoll’s admirers were some of the leading minds of the day, people like Frederick Douglass, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Walt Whitman, Andrew Carnegie, Mark Twain, and Thomas Edison.

If a producer is seeking a subject for a historical documentary, Robert Ingersoll might be just the ticket, said Malone.  Such a program would not only shed light on an overlooked American but might salve our battered senses in these divisive times by promoting the importance of being happy.

An oft-repeated quote from Ingersoll: "Happiness is the only good. The time to be happy is now. The place to be happy is here. The way to be happy is to make others so." 

Anti-Communist feelings reached a fever pitch in the United States following World War II. The big war was won, but the Cold War was on.

Clay Risen, a New York Times reporter, addresses this point in his fourth book, Red Scare, where he takes you back to that postwar period, where, as author Stacy Schiff put it in one of the blurbs on the book’s back cover, “a group of hardened conservatives lost their heads and a country lost its way.”

“Everywhere it seemed the Communists were on the offensive and winning,” Risen writes of the late-40s period that gave birth to the Scare. “In February 1948, Czechoslovakian Communists took control of the country in a Soviet-backed coup,” he noted, adding that later that same year, Russia closed off West Berlin, setting up a massive airlift by Allies to supply the city. Meanwhile, U.S.-backed forces in China were losing ground to Mao Zedong.

With Communism on the march, tensions in Washington ran high, setting the stage for the House Committee on Un-American Activities, the Hollywood 10, and Joe McCarthy. But the Red Scare involved more than much-publicized stories of blacklists and McCarthy’s list of Communists in high office, more than the high-profile trials of accused spies Alger Hiss and the Rosenbergs.

McCarthy, who dominated the media for four years, was a symptom of the era, not the cause, said Risen.

At a time when finger-pointing was encouraged, when U.S. citizens, be they teachers, reporters, or everyday workers, lost their jobs as a result of past associations or rash accusations, it was a time when fear ran wild in this country, noted the author.

Among those profiled, Risen tells the story of Harry Bridges, who organized West Coast dockworkers. Bridges was a successful labor leader who worked well with the shipping companies he negotiated with, but had to fight off government attempts to have him deported to his native Australia for years, said Risen. Bridges was even the subject of a record, “The Ballad of Harry Bridges,” sung by Pete Seeger with Woody Guthrie among the backup singers.

The book’s subhead is Blacklists, McCarthyism and the Making of Modern America so it’s not surprising to find similarities between that toxic 50s period and the divisive politics of today. 

While McCarthy was in the national spotlight, Republicans routinely lashed out at Democrats and the left as anti-American.

Compare that with the recent characterization of left-wing critics as “scum”  in President Trump’s Memorial Day address. Earlier this year, a congressional subcommittee hearing, a Republican-backed effort to investigate public broadcasting, was titled “Anti-American Airwaves: Holding the heads of NPR and PBS Accountable.”

World War II is a never-ending source of history. Decades after the conflict’s conclusion, research and examination continue as we seek to understand how we got to where we are today.

In Building Bridges, Douglas Bristol examines how the military treated Black Americans before, during, and after the national emergency that WWII represented. 

Initially, Black Americans weren’t accepted into the service like their white counterparts. When the first peacetime draft was instituted in 1940, many Blacks were passed over by local draft boards, especially in the South. Spurred on by the federal government, more Blacks entered the military, but largely in menial roles rather than serving as combat troops, said Bristol. “Eighty percent of African Americans were used in a service capacity over the course of the war,” he said.

But in the spring of 1943, the American military faced manpower shortages that threatened to delay the D-Day invasion, said Bristol. “What followed was a conservative revolution in the Army that changed the way they trained Black GIs,” he said.

Since two-thirds of the Black GIs, many coming from a sharecropper background, had only a third-grade education, the Army devised new ways to evaluate recruits, developing non-verbal IQ tests and forming special training units, said Bristol.

The training allowed Black GIs who had been sharecroppers before the war to gain skills, allowing them to work in complex organizations, he said.

Riley King, later to become known as musician B.B. King, was a tractor driver in the service who was permitted to return to work in the field, said Bristol, pointing it out as an example of how labor needs of Southern planters were taken into account by the military. 

King was also witness to a scene that exemplified the added burden African American soldiers faced in WWII, said the author. 

“He was on a bus with other GIs when they passed people on the road. One of the Black GIs innocently called out to some of the women. When the bus came to a lunch stop, an enraged white man got on the bus with a rifle, demanding to know who had the temerity to address a white woman. No one said a word despite being threatened at point-blank range. Eventually, the man left. The incident showed the need for solidarity among Black soldiers when facing hardship,” he said.

African American newspapers like the Pittsburgh Courier and Chicago Defender also played a part in helping Black citizens overcome problems in the military. “The constant complaint of African Americans was that the mainstream press said nothing at all about the racial incidents that occurred in camps across the country. The Black press allowed people to read about the problems," said Bristol.

As a fellow in the Dale Center for the Study of War and Society at the University of Southern Mississippi, Bristol previously co-edited Integrating the U.S. Military: Race, Gender, and Sexuality Since World War II.

Shannon Monaghan is a military historian whose last book, A Quiet Company of Dangerous Men, offered an account of select British special operations unit members who were so important during World War II.

This time around, Monaghan covers a more recent conflict, one that’s still going on: the war between Ukraine and Russia. In To Die With Such Men (Hurst & Co.), the reader is taken behind the lines as Monaghan recreates some of the missions fought in the early stages of a war that started in 2022 when Russia invaded the country. Through extensive interviews with members of Ukraine’s International Legion, the author follows a core group of Western volunteers in Ukraine, fighting together from the early battle for Kyiv through to battles at Severodonetsk and Bakhmut, through May 2023.

While not in Ukraine herself, Monaghan recreates battle scenes that portray urban combat in riveting detail. Dialogue from soldiers like Dan, Ginger, and Greg, along with a description of frontline action, complete with a rundown on the weaponry involved, has one ducking for cover.

“There’s so much body-cam video and audio of this war that it’s possible to detail battles,” she said. “The war has changed a lot since it started. There was a lot of urban warfare at first that’s evolved into a 21st century version of WWI with drones taking the place of the barbed wire,” said Monaghan.

The relentless tension of war is broken by Monaghan’s ability to incorporate the banter of the barracks into the account, where black humor and poignant reflections take hold.

While the International Brigade may have contained as many as 20,000 soldiers from Western countries at the start of the war, that number has declined substantially once the realization of what the conflict requires settled in, she said, adding that many of those she interviewed for the book about their service through the summer of 2023 are still there.

Ukraine remains steadfast in its opposition to Russian rule, said Monaghan. “The Ukrainian determination to win is there,” she said.

The Trump Administration’s efforts to end the fighting in Ukraine may have brought confusion, but “if there’s a silver lining, it’s that the U.S. position has forced European nations to double down on their support for Ukraine,” she said.

Among the heroes in this book is Oleksii Chubashev, a TV reporter in Ukraine whose military reality show allowed him to step into the Ukrainian special forces. Having some knowledge of English placed him as an officer in the International Legion. The men who served under Chubashev “genuinely liked working with him: he was smart, charismatic, and a true believer in the cause,” noted Monaghan.

Understanding why some people go out of their way to face danger is at the heart of Monaghan’s book. The soldiers she interviewed knew they might be criticized for fighting someone else’s war. But they also knew it was the right thing to do, she said.