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Keith Herrell

NonfictionMemoir

An iconic entertainer’s long road to self-discovery

Review by Keith Herrell

At 83, Joel Grey is a lifelong entertainer who created an iconic stage and screen role, fathered a movie star in her own right and came out as gay in early 2015. And his memoir checks in at a grand total of 256 pages?

Please, sir, we want some more.

But until that happens, we’ll take what we can get. And we get a very readable memoir indeed with as Grey—best known as the master of ceremonies in Cabaret—pulls few punches while galloping from his childhood in Cleveland to marriage and a family in Hollywood and finally fulfillment as a gay man in New York.

Along the way, we get enough neuroses to make a team of Viennese specialists complain about overwork. (Spoiler alert: It all started with his mother.) It’s been a life of personal struggle, and not just with his sexuality—or, as he puts it, his “sexual war with myself.” So Master of Ceremonies works on two levels: as a show-business memoir, and as a tale of personal redemption. Like his character in Cabaret, Grey was a master at hiding his true identity.

Grey is at his best when recounting his childhood years as part of a sprawling Jewish family that missed its calling by not pitching its own sitcom. Exposed to the stage at an early age, he’s never really left—literally or figuratively.

As for his involvement with Cabaret, Grey doesn’t disappoint when it comes to anecdotes, including a thoughtful recounting of how he came to interpret his role. (Fortunately for him, his big chance came along when he was playing a “crappy pirate” on Long Island.)

As for his personal journey, Grey doesn’t disappoint there, either. You’ll find yourself rooting for him just as hard in real life as on the stage or screen.

At 83, Joel Grey is a lifelong entertainer who created an iconic stage and screen role, fathered a movie star in her own right and came out as gay in early 2015. And his memoir checks in at a grand total of 256 pages? Please, sir, we want some more.
NonfictionPolitics

Political mudslinging in the U.S.A.

Review by Keith Herrell

Here we are, well into the campaign for the 2016 presidential primaries, complete with televised debates, Twitter feuds and weekly sendups on “Saturday Night Live.” And who knew we had Theodore Roosevelt to thank for all this?

Such education comes courtesy of Geoffrey Cowan in Let the People Rule, an entertaining account of how Roosevelt and his minions created and benefited from 13 primaries in the run-up to the 1912 presidential election—an election in which Woodrow Wilson ultimately prevailed over incumbent William Howard Taft and a back-from-retirement Roosevelt.

Roosevelt battled Taft’s entrenched forces for the Republican nomination, championing “the right of the people to rule.” His success in the primaries made life difficult for Taft right up to the party’s convention in Chicago, but Taft’s network was too much to overcome. That’s when Roosevelt’s supporters famously walked out and had a convention of their own.

Roosevelt admirers looking for a love letter to their hero had best look elsewhere, though. As Cowan makes clear, Roosevelt’s No. 1 objective was returning to the presidency, and he was willing to do anything to achieve that goal, such as repeatedly denying the rights of African Americans from the Deep South.

Roosevelt’s charismatic personality notwithstanding, the real stars of Let the People Rule are the political operators—like the reporter who doubled as a campaign strategist or the clandestine organizer of a “draft Roosevelt” campaign that even Roosevelt’s daughter called “somewhat cooked.”

It wasn’t pretty, but that’s politics—then and now.

 

This article was originally published in the January 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Here we are, well into the campaign for the 2016 presidential primaries, complete with televised debates, Twitter feuds and weekly sendups on “Saturday Night Live.” And who knew we had Theodore Roosevelt to thank for all this?
NonfictionHistory

The full story of a renowned hostage rescue

Review by Keith Herrell

Within a few months of the stunning July 4, 1976, Israeli raid on the airport at Entebbe, Uganda, to free hostages taken by pro-Palestinian terrorists who had hijacked a commercial airliner, three books had been written about the operation. That was just the beginning, as more books followed, along with multiple movies and documentaries.

So, other than to commemorate the upcoming 40th anniversary of the raid, why do we need another book? In Saul David's view, the story "had not yet been properly told"—and he set out to fix that. With Operation Thunderbolt, he has succeeded.

David, a military historian and broadcaster, set out to chronicle the event from multiple perspectives: the Israeli commandos who posed as Ugandan soldiers for the surprise attack, the politicians in Tel Aviv who gave the go-ahead after much deliberation (and more than a little dissension), the hostages themselves and their German and Arab captors. The story unfolds in real time, mostly jumping between Tel Aviv and Entebbe but also ranging to European capitals and, coincidentally with recent news developments, Benghazi. David takes a fly-on-the-wall approach, which is tricky because he was present for none of the developments. But with the help of dozens of sources, he pulls it off.

We are reminded that the operation, historically viewed as an unqualified success, was not without its setbacks. The commandos suffered one fatality—Yoni Netanyahu, brother of current Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, and three hostages were killed in the crossfire. (A fourth hostage, an elderly woman who had been hospitalized before the raid, was murdered on orders of Ugandan dictator Idi Amin, who had been personally and politically embarrassed by the raid.)

In a book filled with facts, David also manages to weave in some perspective—and closes on the sobering note that as much as it's celebrated, the raid on Entebbe may have actually harmed long-term prospects for peace in the Mideast.

Within a few months of the stunning July 4, 1976, Israeli raid on the airport at Entebbe, Uganda, to free hostages taken by pro-Palestinian terrorists who had hijacked a commercial airliner, three books had been written about the operation. That was just the beginning, as more books followed, along with multiple movies and documentaries. So, other than to commemorate the upcoming 40th anniversary of the raid, why do we need another book? In Saul David's view, the story "had not yet been properly told"—and he set out to fix that. With Operation Thunderbolt, he has succeeded.
NonfictionSports

A race against time

Review by Keith Herrell

If there’s a movie called Four Minutes about the quest for the 4-minute mile, why not a book called Two Hours: The Quest to Run the Impossible Marathon?

Just one problem: The 4-minute mile, once thought impossible, was accomplished more than half a century ago. The current world record in the marathon (26 miles, 385 yards), is 2 hours, 2 minutes and 57 seconds, set by Kenyan Dennis Kimetto in 2014.

So . . . can the extra 2 minutes and 57 seconds be shaved off by, say, mid-century? After all, it was only 17 years ago that the record was 2:06:05, so it’s gone down over 3 minutes in that time. Or is 2 hours truly impossible?

In Two Hours, British writer Ed Caesar analyzes the dream of a sub-2-hour marathon from every angle, including training, equipment, diet, genetics and the influence of performance-enhancing substances. Along the way, we get a history of distance running and a behind-the-scenes look at the life and training habits of Kenyan runner Geoffrey Mutai, who’s won at New York, Boston and Berlin.

Two hours may be just a number, but—like Everest—it’s there, and tantalizingly close. And Caesar makes a compelling case that it’s doable, although perhaps not for several more generations.

While doing so, he wears two hats: one as a student of science, delving into the realm of oxygen consumption rates and lactate thresholds, and one as a student of human nature, arguing that the marathon is “not primarily a test of athletic talent, but a test of character.” That’s where Mutai comes in, and the up-close-and-personal moments with him are among the book’s best moments.

Caesar takes a cerebral approach, and is careful not to make any bold assessments or predictions. For author and competitor alike, that’s a wise course. 

If there’s a movie called Four Minutes about the quest for the 4-minute

If there’s a movie called Four Minutes about the quest for the 4-minute mile, why not a book called Two Hours: The Quest to Run the Impossible Marathon?

NonfictionBiography

A haunting, heartbreaking portrait of Rosemary Kennedy

Review by Keith Herrell

Of all the tragedies associated with the Kennedy family, the story of Rosemary Kennedy is among the saddest—and least known. It lasted a lifetime and played out virtually in secret, as opposed to the assassinations and plane crashes that commanded 72-point headlines and seem frozen in time.

Born in 1918, one of Joe and Rose Kennedy’s nine children and their first daughter after sons Joe Jr. and Jack (later President John F. Kennedy), Rosemary was intellectually disabled from birth and experienced mood swings. In 1941, she underwent a frontal lobotomy—arranged by Joe—that went wrong and left her in a drastically reduced mental state. She lived out her years at an institution, dying in 2005.

Kate Clifford Larson’s account of Rosemary’s life, Rosemary: The Hidden Kennedy Daughter, uses new sources, including diaries, letters and interviews, and makes for fascinating but heartbreaking reading. It’s clear that the family coping strategy consisted of equal parts secrecy and denial, with Rosemary frequently hidden away or left behind—literally and figuratively.

Larson also skillfully weaves a Kennedy family history into Rosemary, detailing Joe and Rose’s courtship, Joe’s political ambitions for his sons and giving glimpses into the life stories of all nine children. 

The reader is left to wonder: How did the beaming young woman on the book’s cover, who was presented at Court to the king and queen of England, become the physically twisted, essentially mute woman institutionalized while still in her 20s? And what if she had been born later, when medical advances could have controlled her mood swings? Most poignantly of all: What if she had been born into a family that was prepared to accept her?

Even as Rosemary ends on a redemptive note for the Kennedys, these are questions that will haunt the reader long after the last page is turned.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our Q&A with Kate Clifford Larson about Rosemary.
 

This article was originally published in the October 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Of all the tragedies associated with the Kennedy family, the story of Rosemary Kennedy is among the saddest—and least known. It lasted a lifetime and played out virtually in secret, as opposed to the assassinations and plane crashes that commanded 72-point headlines and seem frozen in time.
NonfictionLiterature

Treading on fertile Southern ground

Review by Keith Herrell

Wait, we need a Brooklyn-based writer to guide us through the swamps, thickets and kudzu of Southern literary haunts? Not to worry—Margaret Eby may live in the borough, but she grew up in Alabama and is on familiar turf in South Toward Home, a highly readable literary tour of the region that gave us Faulkner, O’Connor and Lee (Harper, not Robert E.).

The title is a nod to Eby’s Southern roots but also an homage to North Toward Home, Willie Morris’ 1967 memoir of growing up in Mississippi and moving as an adult to New York. Eby reverses his course, with a simple conceit: Pick a writer and visit the city, town or site associated with him or her, mixing literary primer with historical background and some good old-fashioned reporting. It’s not a new formula, but it requires an expert’s touch, and Eby displays that as she makes the obligatory pilgrimages to places like Oxford, Mississippi, and Monroeville, Alabama, and the not-so-expected detours to a Memphis library or Florida backwoods.

The itinerary is by no means comprehensive: Eby doesn’t go looking for Robert Penn Warren on the Tennessee-Kentucky border or Alice Walker in rural Georgia. Still, readers will feel fortunate that, while not overlooking the obvious choices, Eby includes Harry Crews—not exactly on every high school reading list. 

Feel free to skip around—especially if you’re eager to get to the chapter on Harper Lee and Truman Capote, or the fascinating account of John Kennedy Toole (A Confederacy of Dunces) and his native New Orleans. But if you read even one of the chapters, you’ll want to make sure you take the entire tour.
 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read a Q&A with Margaret Eby about South Toward Home.
 

This article was originally published in the September 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Wait, we need a Brooklyn-based writer to guide us through the swamps, thickets and kudzu of Southern literary haunts? Not to worry—Margaret Eby may live in the borough, but she grew up in Alabama and is on familiar turf in South Toward Home, a highly readable literary tour of the region that gave us Faulkner, O’Connor and Lee (Harper, not Robert E.).
NonfictionMemoir

The ultimate quest to de-clutter

Review by Keith Herrell

le of magazines in the spare room or perhaps the mountain of unused sporting equipment in the garage? You won’t find a much better incentive than reading Mess, Barry Yourgrau’s lighthearted account of his two-year quest to clean out his New York apartment.

Yourgrau, a writer and occasional actor, can afford to be lighthearted. From his description, which includes dozens of plastic supermarket bags wafting about like tumbleweeds, things are beyond messy at his pad but don’t approach reality TV territory. He can still navigate the premises, at least, and find a spot to write an entertaining chronicle of his project.

You might ask: Does it really take 256 pages to clean out an apartment? Why not call 1-800-GOT-JUNK and be done with it? The answer, naturally, is complicated, and in Yourgrau’s view, it goes back to a peripatetic childhood, a difficult relationship with his father and (surprise!) an inability to let go. Throw a girlfriend short on patience into the mix, plus side trips to various therapists, support groups and clutter experts, and you have more than enough to keep things readable.

Fortunately for Yourgrau (and the reader), there’s a specific goal: All he has to do is get things presentable enough to host his girlfriend and her mother for dinner. Given all the baggage (real and psychic) involved, that’s easier said than done.

Will Yourgrau sort out a lifetime of messy relationships and get motivated to clean things up in time to host that dinner? Let’s just say the reader who roots for a tidy ending won’t be disappointed.

 

This article was originally published in the August 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

le of magazines in the spare room or perhaps the mountain of unused sporting equipment in the garage? You won’t find a much better incentive than reading Mess, Barry Yourgrau’s lighthearted account of his two-year quest to clean out his New York apartment.
NonfictionMemoir

The man behind the soapbox

Review by Keith Herrell

When Barton Swaim read a column by his state’s governor, he promptly sat down and wrote him, “I know how to write, and you need a writer.” He got the job, but his writing skills went to waste as the governor insisted on a “voice” that bore only a slight resemblance to proper English.

Fortunately, Swaim puts those skills to good use in The Speechwriter, a highly readable account of his three years in the governor’s employ. Part All the King’s Men and part Horrible Bosses, it’s fascinating and almost impossible to put down.

For reasons of his own, Swaim does not name the man behind the curtain. He’s “the governor,” or “the boss.” But as sure as Myrtle Beach has miniature golf courses, it’s Mark Sanford, the maverick governor of South Carolina from 2003 to 2011 who made “hiking the Appalachian Trail” a euphemism for pursuing an extramarital affair in Argentina. 

Swaim’s lofty approach to the job is undercut early on, when he is told “Welcome to hell” by a co-worker. Not surprisingly, the governor is a difficult man to work for, and readers who have had to answer to unreasonable, demanding and slightly unhinged bosses can relate. It’s hard to defend such a man, and Swaim wisely doesn’t try.

Things come to a head with a crisis over the governor’s refusal to accept the federal stimulus package, followed by the Appalachian Trail fiasco. By the end, Swaim has had enough—but fortunately, he ends with a rumination on politics: “Why do we trust men who have sought and attained high office by innumerable acts of vanity and self-will?”

That’s a good question, and perhaps one to ask “the governor” (now a U.S. congressman) at his next news conference.

 

This article was originally published in the July 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

When Barton Swaim read a column by his state’s governor, he promptly sat down and wrote him, “I know how to write, and you need a writer.” He got the job, but his writing skills went to waste as the governor insisted on a “voice” that bore only a slight resemblance to proper English.
Social Science

Navigating the jungles of the Upper East Side

Review by Keith Herrell

Any population is fair game for anthropological research, so why not the super-rich, super-thin and oh-so-well-dressed mothers of New York’s Upper East Side? That’s the reasoning of author Wednesday Martin, and she puts it to the test in Primates of Park Avenue, her account of six years as a wife and mother in Manhattan’s toniest neighborhood.

Sorry, make that Wednesday Martin, Ph.D.: Martin does have a doctorate in cultural studies. So she brings some gravitas to the project, and she’s not shy about rolling it out. But not to worry—there are plenty of laugh lines and arch observations as Martin surveys the scene of exclusive preschools, lavish fundraisers and second homes in the Hamptons. The result is illuminating and fun to read.

Martin is not exactly parachuting in from grad school at Berkeley, brushing granola crumbs off her work shirt. It’s obvious that her husband makes plenty of money, and they move from Greenwich Village to the East Side by choice (family reasons, you know). So in a way she fits in, and in a way she doesn’t, and that contributes to the book’s dynamics.

She pushes back, for example, against some of the tribe’s most established customs, such as signing infants up for nursery school (she “totally forgot” this step in the path to Harvard). But she also goes native, deciding that she absolutely must have a Hermès Birkin bag.  

Primates of Park Avenue isn’t all snide comments and wry asides. Martin experiences a personal tragedy, bringing her closer to the neighborhood’s team of rivals. And finally, a simple declaration: “We moved across town” to the West Side (family reasons again). Given Martin’s skills in observation, we can hope to look forward to Primates of Columbus Avenue.

 

This article was originally published in the June 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Any population is fair game for anthropological research, so why not the super-rich, super-thin and oh-so-well-dressed mothers of New York’s Upper East Side? That’s the reasoning of author Wednesday Martin, and she puts it to the test in Primates of Park Avenue, her account of six years as a wife and mother in Manhattan’s toniest neighborhood.
NonfictionBiography

The first family of flight

Review by Keith Herrell

BookPage Nonfiction Top Pick, May 2015

Nowadays, the title of a nonfiction book is almost invariably followed by a phrase hyping the contents, including words like incredible, survival or secret. No such subtitle is needed for two-time Pulitzer Prize winner David McCullough’s latest book, The Wright Brothers, even though it contains all three elements.

Of course, McCullough’s name alone virtually guarantees bestseller status. Author of Mornings on Horseback and The Path Between the Seas and acclaimed biographer of Harry Truman and John Adams, he has earned his reputation as one of the best (and most-read) historians of our time. By turning his attention to the two shy brothers from Dayton, Ohio, who pioneered the age of flight, he guarantees that millions will learn a story that is, well, incredible.

“Shy” doesn’t quite do justice to the brothers (an armchair psychiatrist would likely conclude that one or both had Asperger’s syndrome), but McCullough does his best to bring out the personalities of two men virtually indistinguishable in the public eye. (If you don’t know which brother was which, join the crowd.) For McCullough, it’s not all propellers, wind tunnels and sand dunes: By emphasizing the Wright family dynamics, with a particular focus on their father, Bishop Milton Wright, and ever-supportive sister, Katharine Wright, he humanizes their story and makes it more relatable.

As for the technical side, readers won’t be disappointed. McCullough traces the development of powered, piloted flight from the brothers’ earliest interest in a crude flying toy to hard-won success at Kitty Hawk. Amazingly, in hindsight, it was another five years after the historic Dec. 17, 1903, flights before the brothers achieved worldwide acclaim. McCullough is at his best recounting this period, when fish-out-of-water Wilbur travels to France to disprove the doubters and Orville almost loses his life in a crash near Washington, D.C.

The Wrights didn’t totally shun fame, but they didn’t chase it either. The story of the brothers’ single-minded quest to master the skies is a compelling one, made even more compelling by McCullough’s sure-handed storytelling skills. He knows the prose doesn’t need to soar—the brothers and their accomplishments provide all the soaring that’s necessary.

 

This article was originally published in the May 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Nowadays, the title of a nonfiction book is almost invariably followed by a phrase hyping the contents, including words like incredible, survival or secret. No such subtitle is needed for two-time Pulitzer Prize winner David McCullough’s latest book, The Wright Brothers, even though it contains all three elements.
NonfictionBiography

A charged family rivalry

Review by Keith Herrell

Both born in 1884, Eleanor Roosevelt and Alice Roosevelt Longworth could have been classmates in school. It’s easy to imagine Eleanor sitting up front (or even helping teach the class) and Alice occupying a back-row spot, launching spitballs and making wisecracks.

As Hissing Cousins makes clear, the two women from one of America’s foremost families could not have been more different. And that makes for some highly entertaining reading, especially if you like your history sweetened with delicious anecdotes and tasty bon mots.

Eleanor was the niece of Theodore Roosevelt and the wife of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Alice was Theodore’s daughter from his first marriage, fated never to know her mother (who died the day after Alice was born). The first cousins may have been from the same family tree, but complicated circumstances—some political, some personal—pulled them apart as they matured into adulthood. At that point the stage was set, with shy social reformer Eleanor on the side of the Democratic party and attention-loving gadfly Alice casting her lot with the Republicans.

Authors Marc Peyser and Timothy Dwyer have a can’t-miss subject on their hands, and they bring the reader along for an exhilarating ride. Any history lessons, including a brief account of the Teapot Dome scandal, are a bonus, and there’s enough philandering to make the residents of Peyton Place blush.

For better or worse, most of the hissing in Hissing Cousins is done from afar. Face to face, on numerous social occasions, the cousins are all smiles. But as the authors know, where’s the fun—and the book—in that?

 

This article was originally published in the April 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Both born in 1884, Eleanor Roosevelt and Alice Roosevelt Longworth could have been classmates in school. It’s easy to imagine Eleanor sitting up front (or even helping teach the class) and Alice occupying a back-row spot, launching spitballs and making wisecracks.
NonfictionPop CultureHistory

Behind America’s boardgame

Review by Keith Herrell

There it is, right at the beginning of the rules pamphlet included with our family’s well-worn Monopoly game. “In 1934, Charles B. Darrow of Germantown, Pennsylvania, presented a game called Monopoly to the executives of Parker Brothers.” Sounds simple enough. But as Mary Pilon shows in The Monopolists: Obsession, Fury, and the Scandal Behind the World’s Favorite Board Game, the road to fame for Monopoly was circuitous.

For decades, the “inventor” of Monopoly was purported to be Darrow—a Depression-era unemployed salesman who drew up a board representing Atlantic City properties. “There was only one problem,” Pilon writes, with a journalist’s directness: “The story wasn’t exactly true.”

So what was true? Pilon gets to the bottom of the case with the quixotic tale of an economics professor who invented a game he called Anti-Monopoly and ended up battling Parker Brothers in court for 10 years. It’s a fascinating history, with featured roles for a group of Quakers and a turn-of-the-century feminist named Lizzie Magie, and side trips to a Delaware utopian community, Parker Brothers’ headquarters in Salem, Massachusetts, and, of course, Atlantic City.

As for the “obsession, fury, and scandal” promised in the subtitle, it sounds like just another night of Monopoly in many households. But rest assured, there’s plenty of turmoil in this readable book. Read it, and the next time you’re circling the board with your Scottish terrier you’ll have a deeper understanding of Monopoly’s enduring popularity.

 

This article was originally published in the March 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

There it is, right at the beginning of the rules pamphlet included with our family’s well-worn Monopoly game. “In 1934, Charles B. Darrow of Germantown, Pennsylvania, presented a game called Monopoly to the executives of Parker Brothers.” Sounds simple enough. But as Mary Pilon shows in The Monopolists: Obsession, Fury, and the Scandal Behind the World’s Favorite Board Game, the road to fame for Monopoly was circuitous.
NonfictionMemoir

A sister’s silent struggle

Review by Keith Herrell

Even before reading the first words of Resilience: Two Sisters and a Story of Mental Illness, it’s obvious that this is no ordinary memoir. First there’s the cover, with author Jessie Close in the embrace of her sister, actress Glenn Close. Then there are the photos inside, with captions like, “My dad on the porch of our house in the paracommando camp in Zaire.”

It’s been a harrowing ride for Jessie Close, and not just because of her famous sister, or a father who served as personal physician to an African leader, or a family that was swallowed up by a movement known as Moral Rearmament (MRA), whose “Up with People” image hid a darker side that estranged her from her parents. Now 61, she has battled severe bipolar disorder, exacerbated by alcoholism, since her teens.

Resilience is her story, with occasional vignettes from Glenn. It’s quite a journey, with detours to Zaire, Switzerland and India before Close finally settles in Montana. As husbands, houses and bad decisions pile up, it’s painful to read but hard to put down—especially when it becomes clear to Close that her older son, Calen, has inherited the mental illness that runs in the family.

With wealthy ancestors and a trust fund to lean on, Close can afford top-quality mental health care for both herself and her son, although she inexplicably doesn’t receive a diagnosis of bipolar disorder until she is almost 50. Even then, she struggles with suicidal thoughts and only gets her illnesses under control with medicine, sobriety and a revamped lifestyle.

With a title like Resilience, it’s a foregone conclusion that the book will end on a hopeful note—in Close’s words, “a new chapter in my life, one of sobriety, hope and purpose.” With her sister’s encouragement, Close is telling her story to the world in hopes of removing the stigma from mental illness. It’s a story well worth reading.

 

This article was originally published in the January 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Even before reading the first words of Resilience: Two Sisters and a Story of Mental Illness, it’s obvious that this is no ordinary memoir. First there’s the cover, with author Jessie Close in the embrace of her sister, actress Glenn Close. Then there are the photos inside, with captions like, “My dad on the porch of our house in the -paracommando camp in Zaire.”

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