Jeff Shaara writes about Americans at war. His Civil War books were justly praised, his World War II efforts equally well received. The latest (and last) in his World War II series, The Final Storm, deals with the 1945 invasion of Okinawa, the last major land battle in the U.S. Pacific War against Japan before A-bombs brought an end to the conflict.

Shaara’s use of made-up dialogue by famous and less-famous (though all real) people in these books doesn’t always work well. It can come across as stilted and a bit contrived because the words sound as if they are explaining things for the benefit of readers.

When it comes to the “feel” of a battlefield, though, the way just surviving in the filth, mud, heat, rain, the mindless waits and countless terrors, the post battle letdowns, the loss of friends, the appearance of the wounded, the eventual acceptance of the most god-awful sights, sounds and smells, few writers can match Shaara. That’s certainly true in The Final Storm. This isn’t a fun read. But with Americans now at war in two far away and hostile lands, perhaps one that non-combatants at home ought to check out.

I worked in Providence, Rhode Island for awhile. So a crime novel about that city naturally caught my attention — especially one with a title like Rogue Island, which is not just a clever word play, but also sets the tone nicely for the book’s plot.

This is Bruce DeSilva’s first crack at this literary genre. As a long-time newsman who knows local politics well, however, and the ways in which it often cohabits comfortably with a town’s local sleaze, he gets this mixture perfect in these pages. Economically depressed Providence, with its well-known and unusually well established criminal fringe, offers a true rogues’ gallery to work with.

Mulligan, this book’s crusading and fearless newsman protagonist gets me as well, journalism being my own long time bread and butter vocation. Though Mulligan’s interactions in these pages with criminals, cops, and arson-inclined real estate developers sometimes comes across as overdrawn. readers won’t care. This is a very good first crime novel. It will get you through some pleasant days on the beach or sipping brews by the pool.

Defining “essay” can be tricky. Generically, an essay is any piece of short writing on a single subject. But that doesn’t distinguish it very clearly from a rumination or even a rant. A real essay, especially a really good essay, might thus best be defined using the approach once employed by a Supreme Court justice attempting to define pornography— he knew it when he saw it. And you’ll know you’ve come upon a real treasure trove of excellent essays from the opening pages of Norman Ball’s new collection, The Frantic Force.

The book’s first essay, dealing with the value of poetry in an age that seems intent on devaluing and ignoring the stuff, had a special appeal for me since I sometimes take a whack at writing it myself. Ball, though, doesn’t dwell exclusively on the medium. Far from it. Rather, he’s a man animated by copious talents that take him into writing realms ranging from the joylessness of Prozac to terror bombing as a preferred government policy option. Along the way you’ll find yourself in the hands of a literate, frequently funny, occasionally kinky mind, and end the book feeling smarter than when you started.

Ball in Frantic Force is imaginative, funny, erudite, joyfully opinionated, and a just plain good writer. This book is a find.
…