By Imani Nyame

This article was originally published in the Washington Independent Review of Books here.

“Some stories walk right off the page. They meander down a dark street like drunken men. At the water’s edge they take off their clothes and fold them carefully…When the shelf gives way they begin to swim…You shade your eyes and watch as they disappear into the smear between land and sea. Then all you have is a pile of old clothes and memory.”

 – Minrose Gwin

Beautiful dreamers are ordinary. They’re everyday people clinging desperately to utopian ideals of justice, the promise of sweet limerence with a passionate lover, and any semblance of possible escape. But even the ordinary among us can learn extraordinary lessons, and they do in Minrose Gwin’s Beautiful Dreamers. A coming-of-age tale set in the 1950s, the novel unfolds through the eyes of Memory (“Mem”) Feather, a young girl with a withered hand who navigates the complexities of life as she tumbles into womanhood.

At the heart of Mem’s journey is her mother, Virginia. From good Southern stock, Virginia initially follows the prescribed path: She marries the love of her life, a decorated Air Force pilot, and has a baby. But things take an unexpected turn when her husband abandons them both for a far-off French paramour, and Virginia is left to rebuild their lives, starting in a musty room at the El Camino Motel in Mexico. Her determination to make it on her own is admirable but borders on negligence, forcing Mem to find solace in the blissful ignorance of childhood, even as Virginia struggles to keep them afloat.

This fragile existence comes to an abrupt end when a friend intervenes, alerting Mem’s grandparents to the situation. Soon, she and Virginia find themselves along the Mississippi Gulf Coast in Belle Cote, Virginia’s hometown, where they reconnect with the lively, queer Mac McFadden, Virginia’s lifelong friend and part of her chosen family. Together, the three form an unconventional household, defying the conservative South as they walk the fine line between rebellion and privilege, embodying the complexities of white saviors who, despite their inherited wealth, sincerely strive to challenge the status quo.

Food plays a grand role in the narrative, serving as a marker for the events that push the story forward. From fried green tomatoes to fresh-shucked oysters and bread pudding, the flavors of the Mississippi Delta enrich the proceedings, grounding the characters’ experiences in the cultural tapestry of the South.

Mem herself spends considerable time in the kitchen, trying to escape her mother’s bean casseroles. Virginia, youthful and spirited, is as much a child as she is a parent, so Mem often assumes a caretaking role. It seems all the adults in her life are searching for something elusive, something more. Mem, however, believes she holds it all in her disfigured hand, which she affectionately calls her “paw.” Through it, she receives messages from plants and animals, adding a mystical layer to the tale (though, arguably, the narrative would flow just as well without it). At her side, her sassy, loyal cat, Minerva — named after the Roman goddess of justice and wisdom — provides the objectivity the passionate humans around her often need.

Things take a significant turn when Tony Amato, the beautiful dreamer himself, enters the picture. Tony’s devilish charm sets off a chain of events that disrupts the delicate balance of their unusual family. Despite Minerva’s warnings, Mem is unable to gain control of the situation. Soon, Virginia and Mac fall under Tony’s spell, excusing his extravagant lies in exchange for the fleeting escape those untruths provide. When an unexpected alliance emerges among them, nothing will ever be the same.

Beautiful Dreamers is a delightful yet melancholy read, a deceptively ordinary story that nonetheless leaps off the page and lingers when it’s over. Gwin invites readers to immerse themselves in the tantalizing meridional world of Belle Cote and witness a young girl’s journey toward adulthood — a journey as enchanting as it is bittersweet.

By Oluseyi Akinyode

This article was originally published in Washington Independent Review of Books here.

In The Other Valley, debut novelist Scott Alexander Howard contemplates the lives of a town’s residents against a landscape that physically unfolds across time. The story follows protagonist Odile and her friends as they make their way in the world and raises questions about whether the steps we take must be informed by past decisions, or if it’s possible to carve a new path to a more fulfilling life. A resident of Vancouver, British Columbia, Howard holds a Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Toronto and was a postdoctoral fellow at Harvard, where his work focused on the relationship among memory, emotion, and literature.

The Other Valley addresses some heavy philosophical themes. How did you give them the attention they deserved without making the book feel dense?

Your question makes me think of something Timothy Williamson, a British philosopher, once said. He was talking about how to achieve depth in writing, and he pointed out that if you try to be deliberately deep, you will produce writing that isn’t. It’s pretentious or “dense” instead. If you aim for truth, you get depth for free. My goal was to tell a story that felt true and let any deeper philosophical themes emerge naturally, if and where they wanted to. As a result, anything that feels philosophical in The Other Valley is tightly connected to Odile and her story. It’s there because it’s true to her situation and world, not because I consciously tried to address any particular theme. The best way to write a philosophical novel is to ignore philosophy as much as possible.

The main character, Odile, makes choices as a 16-year-old that significantly alter her future. What questions about free will and predestination were you hoping to explore in telling her story?

I don’t want to give away any choices Odile makes by how I answer this question, so I’ll say this: More than free will, I’m interested in the relationship between someone’s identity and their circumstances, and especially their luck. Luck can change our lives, but typically, when we imagine our lives changing, we assume that we’ll still be ourselves, just headed down a different path. In reality, the path molds and alters us. The person walking it is fundamentally different from the person who set out. Odile is a person whose life is heading in one direction, and then, in a single moment, she starts heading in another. I wanted to explore how that change affected who she became compared with who she might have been. In the novel’s world, the person she used to be is still alive on the other side of the mountains — which adds a layer of poignancy and eeriness.

Your vivid descriptions of the landscape are striking. Did you draw on any particular experiences or memories in bringing the novel’s setting to life?

Thank you! The description of the landscape and climate in The Other Valley was inspired by parts of the Southern Interior of British Columbia, where I spent most of my childhood. It’s a region with deep glacial lakes stretching north and south. You find lush orchards by the lakeshore, but as soon as you get up into the mountains, the landscape is extremely dry and arid — in fact, it’s home to Canada’s only desert. That juxtaposition of the pastoral and the barren seemed to fit the novel, which blends longing and foreboding. So, I went with the natural environment I knew intimately and invented a new town to put there.

You made the bold choice not to use quotation marks in the dialogue. What inspired that decision?

I did it for the same reason many writers do: In a first-person story, it holds the reader inside the narrator’s mind. It’s a stylistic way of conveying that everything you’re reading is steeped in the character’s voice. It’s an effect that suited this story. Honestly, I didn’t think I was making a bold decision. Dialogue without quotation marks is easy to follow when the writing is clear.

This is your debut novel. Can you share a bit about its road to publication?

It’s tough to count how many drafts of the manuscript I wrote. I rewrote this novel from scratch at least two-and-a-half times before overhauling and revising it for what felt like ages. I read it out loud to myself more times than I can count, and I read the whole thing backward while proofreading. By the time I was ready to query agents, it was in good shape. The published book only differs from the version I queried in subtle but meaningful ways. Like most debut authors, I found querying to be a grind. I had no personal or professional connections to the publishing world, so I was firing emails into slush piles and hoping for the best. After five months of near silence, I received requests for a complete manuscript from some agents, and things moved quickly. The agent I chose sold the book to Simon & Schuster (Atria and Scribner Canada) in a few days. When I got the news, the first feeling — before joy — was immense relief. It sounds silly, but other writers will know the feeling: If I didn’t get the novel published, I felt like I’d be letting the characters down.

What’s next for you?

I’m writing my second novel with the usual churn of exhilaration, doubt, and determination. And I’m also helping develop the screen adaptation of The Other Valley.

By Leah Cohen

This article was originally published in The Washington Independent Review of Books here.

With his latest book, The Betrayal: How Mitch McConnell and the Senate Republicans Abandoned America, Ira Shapiro completes his critically acclaimed trilogy on the U.S. Senate. In addition to writing, the former Senate staffer and trade ambassador for the Clinton Administration serves as president of Ira Shapiro Global Strategies, LLC, a consulting firm focused on trade policy and international government relations. A new edition of The Betrayal includes an updated foreword that adds the events of 2022-2023 to the story.

The Betrayal first came out in 2022. Why did you feel compelled to publish an updated version so soon, in 2024?

I was delighted that my publisher (Rowman & Littlefield) thought that The Betrayal was an important book that warranted a paperback edition. Jonathan Sisk, R&L’s senior editor, and I quickly agreed that the past two years (2022-23) were part of a continuing story about the Senate’s performance during this period dominated by Donald Trump, necessitating a substantial new foreword to bring the story up to date. I believe the updated edition provides important perspectives on the success of the Biden presidency; the Senate’s role in a surprising set of bipartisan accomplishments; Trump’s unexpected resilience and continued dominance of the Republican Party; the rampaging Supreme Court supermajority; and the consequences of the Republican Senate’s catastrophic failure to stop Trump’s assault on our democracy when it had the opportunity and the responsibility to do so. America has watched as the legal system has struggled to make up for the failure of the Senate to perform its constitutional role.

What was the process like for writing from ideation to completion?

I wrote The Betrayal in 2021 in anger about the Republican Senate’s knowing and deliberate failure to protect our democracy from Trump, particularly in the crisis year of 2020, including their last clear chance in the second impeachment trial in February 2021. The book told the story of how the Senate Republicans repeatedly put partisanship above patriotism. They stood by while America had an unhinged president during a pandemic, which caused hundreds of thousands of Americans to die needlessly. The book also illustrated that it was clear that Trump was not going to accept the results of the election unless he won. I was incensed that McConnell and his Senate roused [themselves] from torpor only long enough to ram through the confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett eight days before Election Day. By the time I wrote the foreword to the paperback, my white-hot anger had become deep concern and growing dread for the condition and future of our country.

How did your view of the Senate evolve over the decade you spent researching and writing the trilogy? Or did it?

I am very proud that Brookings Institution scholar William A. Galston, one of my wisest and most experienced political commentators, said that The Betrayal “completed an epic trilogy” about the modern Senate. I came of age during the last constitutional crisis, when Lyndon Johnson’s Vietnam War tore America apart and then led almost inexorably into Richard Nixon’s abuses of power known as Watergate. During that difficult period, the Senate was a beacon of hope that drew many idealistic young people to public service. I became a lawyer to work in the Senate, and I had 12 great years there from 1975-87. Decades later, dismayed by the Senate’s long decline, I circled back to write The Last Great Senate: Courage and Statesmanship in Times of Crisis (2012). I wanted to show how the Senate worked when it was at its best, hoping to inspire senators and Senate leaders to emulate their great predecessors. Can’t claim to have succeeded; unfortunately, the second and third books chart the decline and accelerating downward spiral. The once-great Senate becomes the “broken” Senate (2018) and then the Senate that betrayed America (2022).

It’s clear how you see Mitch McConnell’s legacy vis-à-vis the Senate, but how do you imagine he sees it? Is it “mission accomplished,” or did things go off the rails for him?

That’s a great question! The longest-serving Senate leader ever, McConnell is by any measure one of the most impactful political leaders in our history; he has profoundly affected all three branches of government. I have no doubt that McConnell was surprised that Trump might be president again; he expected Trump’s power to wither away after the January 6th attack on the Capitol. McConnell’s steadfast advocacy for Ukraine has been his finest hour; he knows with absolute certainty that Trump is a danger to Ukraine and [to] the security of our NATO allies and America. But he endorsed Trump anyway because ultimately what matters most to him is Republican power — and winning. In February 2024, McConnell waxed philosophical, saying: “History will settle every account.” His legacy will be one thing he didn’t do — stop Trump’s assault on our democracy — and one thing he did: create the radical Supreme Court supermajority. And at a time when America desperately needed a great Senate leader like Howard Baker to help bring us together, we had Mitch McConnell, a fiercely effective and endlessly divisive partisan.

What’s next for you as an author? Do you anticipate a fourth book?

Thanks for asking. There won’t be another Senate book; a trilogy is enough. I love to write, and I hope to find another subject that excites me. But for this year, I’m entirely focused on writing articles and speaking about the stakes in the presidential and Congressional elections. Everything else — other than family and friends — can wait.

By Leah Cohen

This article was originally published in The Washington Independent Review of Books here.

As a cardiologist on faculty at the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, Jonathan D. Reich is no stranger to research. The author of multiple articles for medical journals, he shifted his focus to historical research during the pandemic. After reading A. Scott Berg’s Lindbergh, Reich dove into studying the groundbreaking aviator and onetime presidential candidate. The result is his first book, A Convenient Villain: Charles A. Lindbergh’s Remarkable and Controversial Legacy Preparing the U.S. for War.

As a physician by training, how did you make the jump to writing a book?

Before I went to medical school, I was an aerospace engineer. I worked for the Navy designing airplanes and got a master’s degree. Part of my coursework was done in Israel. I had always known that Lindbergh had a legacy as an antisemite. So, during the pandemic, I read the Pulitzer Prize-winning biography Lindbergh. I expected to conclude this was his legacy. While reading the book, I had two realizations. First, although the author, A. Scott Berg, wrote an outstanding encyclopedic book, he had no appreciation for the aerospace contributions of Lindbergh’s life. I read a few other books about Lindbergh, especially about the period of his life when he lived in Europe and visited German air force facilities. I concluded that much of Lindbergh’s legacy was misrepresented. Second, Lindbergh’s legacy was too facile. He was a complicated man with a complicated, nuanced legacy. I decided that no one else would ever try to establish an accurate legacy of Lindbergh because it was unlikely there was another Jewish aerospace engineer who would want to spend years researching his life. I tried writing a magazine article but found it was impossible to condense the misrepresentations of Lindbergh’s legacy into 1,500 words. So, three years later, here it is: a biography of Charles Lindbergh’s life. I believe this is the first biography written by someone who is qualified to define his legacy.

What was your research process like?

During the pandemic, I had time to read nearly every biography I could find about Lindbergh and research references to see if statements had a valid basis. I also read dozens of other books about Europe in the 1930s, President Roosevelt, the 1940 presidential election, the Depression, and isolationism. I read [Lindbergh’s] journal and his wife’s journal. I read every New York Times article that mentioned Lindbergh and a host of other articles both critical and supportive of his legacy. As a physician, I concentrated on the two major medical advances that Lindbergh made: the first cardiac perfusion pump and his improvements in high-altitude aviation. I read about the different definitions of terms like “antisemite” and “Nazi sympathizer” and how they are applied to people from different eras. These figures existed and were sometimes dangerous, but using the definitions inaccurately hurts your credibility. Having a wife who is the daughter of a Holocaust survivor helped with perspective. Once the pandemic subsided, I made a trip to Yale University to go through Lindbergh’s papers. That was a fascinating experience; it felt almost as if I got to meet him.

What was the most interesting document you came across in your research?

The most interesting were the drafts of his speeches. Between September 1939 and December 1941, Charles Lindbergh gave five national radio addresses and 20 national speeches in opposition to the U.S.’ creeping involvement in World War II. The Yale archives contain not only the texts from which he read the speeches, some of which have handwritten edits, but the drafts of the speeches from his original handwritten notes (with his wife’s edits) to the final version of the speeches. But the most important document I came across was the letter from the U.S. embassy in Berlin on U.S. embassy letterhead in May 1936, asking Lindbergh to go to Germany to obtain information on Germany’s air force. Prominent historians have written that Lindbergh visited Germany because he admired the Nazis, and his intelligence work was “invented” later by his supporters. Finding this letter proved that no one “invented” Lindbergh’s intelligence work. It was the reason he visited Germany in the first place.

What made you want to take a closer look at Lindbergh’s life and politics?

I am continuously stunned by the poor academic scholarship and abject sloppiness that historians have engaged in when discussing this man. The more I write and the more feedback I get, the more examples I find. I not only find more misquotations and unsupported allegations, but I have found attempts at suppressing others’ opinions of him. We (defined as everyone, historians and non-historians, Jews and non-Jews) must be committed to the truth. He was a complicated, flawed man. I suspect we all are. Yet, his contributions to American security and medicine are remarkable and, in some respects, unparalleled. His flaws are discussed. But if we allow his flaws to supersede an honest discussion of his life, then we are truly doing a disservice to understanding the history of this country.

Did you uncover anything in particular that changed — or at least called into question — your previous understanding of him?

Reading his and his wife’s journals led me to an understanding of the times he lived in and the decisions he made. I tried strenuously to adopt a position of not judging people based on the ethics of our time. I spent a significant amount of time speaking to people who lived through the 1930s and 1940s to try and understand what it was like to be Jewish then.

Was Lindbergh a great man who had some flaws or a flawed man who did some great things? Does the distinction matter?

Fascinating question. Lindbergh was human. In his lifetime, his accomplishments are truly mind-boggling. However, he had major flaws — not just his legacy as an antisemite but in his personal relationships. He was not evil. He did not kill his son and he was not a Nazi. He was investigated by the FBI and exonerated. FBI director J. Edgar Hoover respected no restrictions on his investigative power and destroyed people when he had the chance. If he had found any evidence Lindbergh had any connection with any fascist power or organization, foreign or domestic, he would have produced it. He found nothing. I don’t think the distinction matters. We are all flawed. Few of us are great. Lindbergh’s contributions to the Allied effort to defeat both the Germans and the Japanese far outweigh his blemishes.