#98 - "Look Me in the Eye" by John Elder Robison

I'm afraid I don't have much time to write up Look Me in the Eye: My Life With Asperger's (2007) by John Elder Robison. I've got about a half hour before the coffee shop closes and I lose my internet. I've recently picked up some temp work doing some emergency document review, otherwise known as sweatshop work for lawyers. But I need the money, and it's not that bad because I know it's going to end soon. In the meantime, I have almost no free time with an internet connection.

I saw Look Me in the Eye on a recommended reading list and decided to take a look. Robison wrote a memoir of his life with Asperger's after being prompted by his younger brother, the New York Times bestselling author of Running With Scissors, Augusten Burroughs (Burroughs apparently hated his family so much that he changed his name--I will know more when I actually read Running With Scissors). Robison spent his childhood, teenage years, and young adulthood wondering what was wrong with him and feeling like a fraud. He knew he was different but wasn't diagnosed with Asperger's until he was in his forties. But despite Asperger's, a violent, alcoholic father and a mentally ill mother, Robison still built a life for himself. A whiz with electronics and sound, Robison made exploding guitars for KISS and designed electronic toys before going into business on his own.

I don't know too much about Asperger's or autism, but I thought Look Me in the Eye was an interesting look from Robison's perspective. I kind of feel the hypochondriac urge to delare myself somewhat autistic, and I could sometimes relate to Robison's point of view: I'm not big on small talk; I much prefer honesty, I cannot give someone a fake compliment, and I tend to really focus on one thing at the time. That's where the similarity ends, though, and some of the chapters that Robison probably most enjoyed writing, I wasn't as interested in. Robison keeps it brief, but I really didn't need any details about his electronics work. He could have said, I did some really hard, innovative, gadgety stuff, and I could have simply believed him.

Robison also doesn't talk too specifically about how Asperger's affects him in his day-to-day, personal life. A couple of chapters are devoted to the subject, but Robison is married twice and he barely describes how he meets them or their interactions. I guess I am usually more interested in the personal and it wasn't always there. Also, Robison comes from a very unique and messed-up family and I was left wondering more than once whether his behavior (that I would consider odd) was a result of Asperger's, his parents, the times, or spending summers in rural Georgia. Robison was in Florida, working on a KISS tour and he shot a snake right outside of his motel door--with families nearby in the pool--with his (probably illegal) handgun. And Robison was surprised when the disgruntled motel owner objected. I enjoyed reading Look Me in the Eye, but I found myself eager to pick up Running With Scissors to see if I could get more of the story of Robison's family.

#97 - "The Maltese Falcon" by Dashiell Hammett

There are a couple of reasons I started reading The Maltese Falcon (1929) by Dashiell Hammett. I picked up The Thin Man by Hammett when it was chosen for the "One Book, One Denver" program in 2008. It wasn't my favorite, but I like to read more than one book by authors to get a feel for them, and The Maltese Falcon is certainly famous enough to make it worthwhile. (I haven't seen any of the movies, so the plot was still new to me.) However, the other reason I picked up this book also has a lot to do with my reaction to it, so in the interests of full disclosure, I better explain it. The Maltese Falcon is the favorite book of a man I have something of a past with. I still see him all the time and at least for awhile we might have been something like friends, but now not so much. It's probably obvious that I'm not quite over him, and I was curious why this was his favorite book.

Sam Spade is a tough, no-nonsense detective in San Francisco. He's good at what he does, a loner, and somewhat mysterious. A beautiful woman comes to visit his agency, begging for his help to find her sister who had run away. She plays the part of the naive and helpless woman, but her story doesn't add up, especially when Spade's partner is killed while tailing her. Two other men are killed as the story progresses with Spade quickly becoming a convenient suspect for the police. Spade struggles (but in a cool, detached way) to clear his name, find the killers, and help his clients. At one time or other Spade has promised his services to all the people searching after the mysterious and elusive "black bird" statute, the maltese falcon.

Spade also has a way with women. He had been having an affair with his partner's wife, but he tires of her before the book begins; there's something going on with his secretary, Effie Perine; and he quickly hooks up with his mysterious, new client. In a lot of ways, Spade is like James Bond. I can appreciate James Bond, especially when I'm in the right mood (and especially when Daniel Craig is playing him), but I was constantly bothered by the women, how they were portrayed, and how they were treated in this book. I'm sure this is at least partly because I was projecting my own experiences. I'd bet that my "friend" sees himself as Sam Spade; he certainly acts like him. James Bond is all kinds of sexy and fun, but when you end up being one of the women he's using and throwing away, it's not as entertaining. Spade goes around calling them, "angel," "precious," and "darling" even when he detests them. He lies, doublecrosses, and parades them in front of each other. The women themselves were also annoying, whiny and devious. Effie Perine, the most likable, was still often wrong and pretty weak. I found it all kinds of frustrating.

The Maltese Falcon has some good twists and turns, though, and it's a satisfying, noir detective story. Spoilers ahead?!?! People are getting killed and everyone's running amuck, desperately searching for the maltese falcon and it turns out what they're all looking for is worthless. Spade is given a rather difficult choice at the end, too, even though I still wondered if he would have taken the money if the maltese falcon had turned out to be real. I'm guessing not. There is some talk of love at the end of the book, but I could never believe that. You don't fall in love with someone you don't know and you don't trust, no matter how much you want to sleep with them.

#96 - "Stiff" by Mary Roach

Stiff (2003) by Mary Roach is another book that was recommended by a number of people, including a Cannonball Reviewer, and I was not disappointed. Fascinating, maybe a little morbid, insightful, and funny, I really enjoyed reading this book and I'm looking forward to reading Roach's other books as well.

A couple of years ago the "Body Worlds" exhibit came to Denver, and I got a chance to see it. Somewhat controversial and mentioned in Stiff (although it had yet come to the United States at the time), it involves the display of real dead bodies which have been "plasticized." I thought the exhibit was fascinating and not particularly disturbing. There was one body, however, that had been sliced in long, two inch slices, from head to foot and spread apart with the skin, face, and hair still intact. That one was hard to forget. And even though I didn't think I had been particularly affected by the exhibit, I had some pretty vivid dreams for a couple weeks afterwards. I guess it's easier to understand intellectually that once the person is dead, the "soul" is gone and all that's left is tissue, but emotionally there's always something more to it.

Stiff is a book that takes a look at what happens to bodies after we die. From scientific research (including the grisly history of precursors to gross anatomy), to driving experiments, army experiments, religious experiments, and personal burial/disposal options, Roach pretty much covers all the interesting/gross things that can happen to your body once you're gone. She defies taboos about death and delves into our options. I often read this book while eating, which I sometimes found somewhat disconcerting with her frank descriptions, but Roach managed to be both thorough and honest without being offensive (at least to me).

Mary Roach dares to ask the difficult and somewhat unorthodox questions that many people would rather avoid. Her enthusiasm for her subject and learning in general is contagious and enjoyable. She treats her subjects with dignity and deference but consistently lightens up the talk of rotting bodies with humor. Stiff did seem to jump around a bit as Roach went off on little tangents, but it was all so interesting that I didn't mind. I'm definitely going to be reading Roach's other books.

#95 - "The Lovely Bones" by Alice Sebold

I can't just ignore a couple of book recommendations for the same novel, especially when they come from disparate sources. The Lovely Bones (2002) by Alice Sebold was on a number of reading lists and kept making itself known to me until I could ignore it no longer. I really liked many things about this book; it only kind of lost me near the end. In order for me to really discuss this novel, though, I think I'll have to bring up some happenings near the back of the book. Please consider this a warning that there might be some spoilers ahead.

Susie Salmon, the narrator of Sebold's novel, is fourteen years old and she's just been brutally raped and murdered by her neighbor. She watches as her family reacts to her disappearance and assumed death, she watches the police wander past clues and suspects, and she watches her father talk with her killer. At first, I was a little leery of a story that began with the rape and murder of a young, white girl near her home. The sensationalist take on these cases is inevitably over-the-top and incredibly annoying. If this book garnered interest in the same way that Nancy Grace does, then I wanted no part. Fortunately, Sebold, for the most part, bypasses the exploitative nature of these cases by using Susie as her storyteller. Although the tragic occurrences in her life are still moving and sad, hearing it all from Susie means that she's not completely gone, that things can get better.

After her death, Susie finds herself in a heaven-like place where she can watch over her family. There are others with her, but everyone has their own version of heaven, comprised of what they know and wish for, so there are many different versions and Susie only sees her own. She is still desperately attached to her family and watches as they struggle with the reality of her fate. Four-year-old Buckley doesn't understand what's going on, but Susie's sister struggles with her own grief as well as growing up as the poor sibling of a "murdered sister." Susie's parents also fight through their grief, and some problems inherent in their relationship come to a climax under the stress.

The combination of suspense and the sensitive portrayal of a family in crisis was incredibly interesting. The characters felt real and likable, and Susie herself kept the book surprisingly light given the topic. As Susie describes what might have been her first kiss, she says, "[i]f I had known this was to be the sex scene of my life, I might have prepared a bit, reapplied my Strawberry-Banana Kissing Potion as I came in the door." Lindsey, Susie's sister, is strong and independent and somehow manages to continue living, despite her grief and challenges.

While Susie is discovering heaven, watching over her grieving family, and wanting her killer to be caught, I was hooked. But once the living discovered the identity of Susie's killer, the pace of the book slowed down and I started feeling a little lost. And then the end of the book came out of nowhere. Susie changes places with the body of a friend of hers, one who somehow has had the power to sense the dead and wanted to switch with her. Susie uses her limited hours back on Earth to have sex with her middle school crush, and then she goes back to heaven. Then, from heaven, Susie makes an icicle fall into the chest of her murderer, killing him, before he can kill again.

I can appreciate the bittersweetness: that a girl who was ripped from the Earth, only knowing brutality, and never making love, would have the chance to go back and experience it. But Susie comes back for only a couple of hours and she sleeps with her middle school crush? Is that really the best use of her time? I like the idea that she would choose love over vengeance, but she had just been watching as her killer stalked her sister. He's out there, he's a danger, and she knew where he was. And what about her family? I guess I also found the whole "coming back to Earth" plot point hard to believe. From my perspective, Sebold's world wouldn't allow for that, and I couldn't imagine her old boyfriend suddenly believing that Susie had come back from the dead and was inhabiting her friend's body. The whole falling icicle thing was also a little hard for me to believe, and it was a little too convenient. I did like this book; I was impressed how Sebold could twist a horrible murder into an often funny and touching story, but I did have some problems near the end.

#94 - "Outliers" by Malcolm Gladwell

I'd already read Blink and The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell, and I found them pretty interesting and fast reading. So it only made sense to put Outliers (2008), Gladwell's latest book, on hold as well. Although there were still some interesting stories and fascinating case studies in Outliers, I also found it the most tenuous, least interesting, and most frustrating out of all his books. I have a feeling this is simply because I know more--and have more opinions--about intelligence, success, and lawyers than I do about his previous topics of discussion. Much like Bill Maher, when I agree with Gladwell, he's great fun to read, but when I don't, his lack of precision and ambiguity in data drive me crazy.

Gladwell's thesis is that although society assumes that people's success stems primarily from innate talent and hard work, if you look closer, you will see that extraordinary achievement is less about talent than it is about opportunity. First Gladwell looks at the importance of what month you are born in when it comes to success in life. Professional Canadian hockey players are much more likely to be born in the first three months of the year (January, February, March) than the last three months. The reason is that the age cut-off date for young teams is the beginning of the year. So, the children born in January are as much as eleven or twelve months older than some of their peers with the related size, coordination and fitness that comes with age; this gives them an advantage when it comes to playing in the best leagues, for the best teams, the best coaches and getting the most practice time. The same thing is seen with performance and children in the school system.

Gladwell brings up a number of examples in a similar vein, none as compelling as his Canadian hockey players, including Bill Gates, Bill Joy, The Beatles, and Jewish lawyers in New York. I definitely think Gladwell makes a point that a lot of these people were in the right time at the right place, but it's impossible to determine how much of their success stemmed directly from their talent, hard work, and own initiative and how much was opportunity. Gladwell brings up the point that Bill Gates was lucky enough to go to a high school with a computer back in 1968. But there were hundreds of other children going to that same high school, with the same opportunity; by itself, it doesn't explain Bill Gates' success.

I also got a little bored reading about lawyers in New York. Perhaps my law degree and subsequent experience and job searching has made me cynical, but I don't define success as being a lawyer, or even making a lot of money. Although it was interesting to hear about the rampant and overt discrimination in the 1950's and 1960's, I didn't want to hear about the wonderfully successful corporate lawyers doing aggressive merger and acquisitions work. Ugh, I didn't even like writing that sentence.

The second section of the book moves on to cultural legacy, which included some pretty interesting descriptions and explanations of plane accidents and how pilots from cultures deferential to hierarchy could contribute to these accidents.

My main problem with this book is that I was looking for something a little more explanatory and then Gladwell didn't have enough interesting stories to distract me from his lack of substance. Besides showing some examples of how chance and opportunity can affect people's lives and a short but interesting discussion of culture, there's not much there. Gladwell discounts hard work and talent to make his points and then ignores psychology completely--something that I would guess would have a lot to do with success in life. To be fair, the second half of the book was not discussing lawyers, so I found it much more interesting. I also appreciated Gladwell's wish to equalize opportunities in order to allow more people with talent and will to succeed, but I didn't feel like I really gained an understanding of his subject.

#93 - "Caramelo" by Sandra Cisneros

I first heard of the "One Book, One Denver" program a couple of years ago when a coworker was reading The Milagro Beanfield War by John Nichols. Curious, I picked it up, and I loved it. After discovering that "One Book, One Denver" had only been in existence since 2004, I decided to read all the past selections. What can I say, I like to complete lists, I didn't want most/half/some/a few Denverites knowing all about this famous literature I had missed out on, and I trusted the powers-that-be to have chosen some good books. And doing the Cannonball Read was the perfect opportunity to catch up on this reading. Caramelo (2002) by Sandra Cisneros was the last of these...well, until Augustish when they announce the book for 2009.

2004 - Peace Like a River by Leif Enger
2005 - Caramelo by Sandra Cisneros
2006 - The Milagro Beanfield War by John Nichols
2007 - Articles of War by Nick Arvin
2008 - The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett

Caramelo is a story about, and told by, a young Mexican-American, Celaya (or Lala) Reyes, growing up in Chicago with her mother, father and seven older brothers. Her family treks down to Mexico every summer to visit the "Awful Grandmother," "Little Grandfather," and "Aunty Light Skin." Lala is young, and her perspective is that of a child, but she still gives a clear picture of her family and her young life in the first section of the book. The second section falls back in time to discuss the early life of Lala's "awful" grandmother with more understanding and sympathy, before going back to Lala and her awkward adolescence in the third section when her family moves down to San Antonio, Texas. The themes of family, continuity, and connectivity are strong throughout the book, as well as growing up, alienation, and the experience of first-generation Mexican-Americans.

I was impressed by Caramelo and think it was a good selection for the Denver book. While I was reading, my mind kept comparing Caramelo with Middlesex, another book steeped in culture and discussing the adolescent travails of a young person, the history of her family, and their emigration to the United States. On the whole, I have to favor Middlesex, which kept me so entranced that I was sucking up the pages, barely even aware that I was reading. Although I enjoyed Caramelo and some parts hit me with their honesty and emotion, there wasn't much plot or excitement to keep me reading. I kept wondering where Cisneros was going next or why she was writing about a certain person or topic. Now that I've finished, I can't imagine the book being set up in any other way, but it made it a little harder to read--at least compared to Middlesex, which might be unfair since it was one of my favorite books of the year.

But that doesn't mean that I didn't like Caramelo. Dealing with your family always means convoluted emotions and histories that are hard for an outsider to understand or appreciate, but Cisneros allows an honest, realistic glimpse at the Reyes family through the youngest daughter, including the good, the bad, and the ugly. It isn't sentimental or overly optimistic, just real. A scene where the young Lala is teased by an old friend of her father's at a party but doesn't understand why everyone is laughing hit me so hard for some reason. Not that it was sad at all, just that it was written beautifully. The little disappointments and wants of childhood are so important when you're a child. Moments and sentences throughout the book either had me going back and reading it over again or just taking a deep breath to take it all in. Even though Caramelo wasn't quite the page turner that Middlesex was, it was complex, honest, and meaningful.

#92 - "Too Far Gone" by Marliss Melton

I'd really prefer if my favorite escapist novels didn't advertise themselves by spraying fake-looking, generic, naked men on the cover. I guess I can be grateful that it's not some long-haired Fabio clutching at some half-clad belle, but it's still far from subtle. I would have simply avoided posting the book cover if I hadn't already established such a pattern of always posting them. But what was even more embarrassing was that this book is so popular that the Denver Public Library system didn't even have a copy. I had to "prospector" it from another library system, which means I have to pick it up and return it in person. A simple solution would be to not care so much what other people think of me, but that's easier said than done. Anyway, I've gotten kind of attached to Marliss Melton's novels and I wanted to read her latest, Too Far Gone (2008), and I didn't want to buy it. Apparently my "cheapness" overrides my self-consciousness. Not sure if that's a good thing.

I've been feeling super-stressed out lately and not particularly happy, and I was just itching for something easy and entertaining to read. I'm in the middle of reading Caramelo, but it was taking a little too much concentration. Melton has written a series of romantic-suspense novels involving Navy SEALS, and I've grown rather fond of them. Many characters appear throughout the books, and the plots are usually fast-paced and involve adventure and danger with well-trained military types. In this book, Ellie Stuart's three children are kidnapped and her landlord/friend/Navy SEAL, Sean Harlan helps her find them.

This probably isn't the kind of book you want to think about too much. The plot is far-fetched and somewhat ridiculous, but it's not going for realism. Statham's movies aren't fun because they're realistic. I almost want to delve into men's and women's roles in these books, the fact that I'm apparently attracted to the alpha military types (at least in fiction), and what this all means, but I'm running out of time. This wasn't my favorite of Marliss's books, but I still sucked it up pretty fast. It served its purpose. and I think I'll still read her next book.

#91 - "The Dangerous World of Butterflies" by Peter Laufer

I hate moths. Apparently Colorado is quite a haven for miller moths, and they have harassed me for much of my life. Although I have recently managed to turn a rather debilitating phobia into an uncomfortable unease, I still hate them. It's just that now I'm calm enough to kill them when they come into my apartment rather than freak out and run away. So you might wonder why I would choose to read a book about butterflies, The Dangerous World of Butterflies (2009) by Peter Laufer, especially considering that I have just learned that moths and butterflies are basically the same, except moths fly at night and butterflies during the day. I have to strongly disagree with this theory, however: I have never found a butterfly in my home or bedroom; butterflies have never dive-bombed me like miniature kamikazees; butterflies have never woken me up in the middle of the night banging repeatedly against the ceiling, walls, and windows of my bedroom; and butterflies have never come back to life like some demented zombie-moth after you slam them with a flyswatter (I'm not sure if this last one is actually true, since I've never tried to kill a butterfly).

Yet, I still voluntarily picked up The Dangerous World of Butterflies, and despite some shuddering when they talked about the butterflies' bodies, enjoyed reading it. The book caught my attention when I saw Peter Laufer on The Daily Show, promoting his new book. I've never read anything by Laufer before, but he told the story of how he had just finished writing an intense and depressing book on soldiers in the Iraq War. While doing some publicity, someone asked him what he was going to write about next, and he jokingly answered, "butterflies." A viewer in Nicaragua saw this and invited him to her butterfly reserve in Nicaragua. I enjoyed Laufer's banting with Jon Stewart, and I loved the idea of picking an almost random topic and finding the story within it.

And I learned that there's a lot going on in the world of butterflies. The North American Butterfly Association (NABA) bickers with collectors and breeders because they are against releases of butterflies for events such as weddings and funerals (apparently, this is becoming more popular) as well as the collecting of butterflies. Granted, I find it awfully creepy that breeders wait until the butterfly emerges from the chrysalis and then they put it immediately in a freezer to kill it before the wings can be damaged. And then collectors or artists take the dead butterflies and pin them, pull them apart, and use their parts. Ugh. It reminds me of some (obviously unforgettable) children's science-fiction books I read in grade school--The Tripod Trilogy, or something, where the aliens took the most beautiful girl from each village every year...and then killed her and stored her in a collection of drawers. But as much as it doesn't appeal to me, they're still insects. They're never going to have more protection than, for instance, livestock.

In the world of butterflies, common controversies that often surround bigger (and seemingly more important) animals still abound. Fish and Wildlife Service Agents hunt down poachers who capture, sell, and trade endangered species of butterflies. It appears that scientists and researchers sometimes think themselves above these laws, and often get away with it. Some butterflies are struggling to survive for a number of reasons, including the spraying of pesticides and loss of habitat. Two of the most interesting facts I learned were how the insect turns from a caterpillar into a butterfly. Apparently, the bug completely decomposes into a liquid before emerging as a butterfly. If you cut open the chrysalis in the middle of the process, you'll just find liquid goo. Kind of amazing. The other is the Monarch's multi-generational migration. One generation of butterflies is born in Mexico and they fly to Texas, or somewhere, where they lay some eggs and die. The next generation continues the journey north, dying and laying more eggs along the way. Three or four generations later, the monarchs are in New England. Yet somehow, this generation born in the middle of the United States gets back to Mexico, its winter grounds, even though they've never been there. Again, amazing.

There were a couple of problems with this book. The writing wasn't always super-impressive; some of the sentences felt awkward, and Laufer used a ton of long quotations from his subjects. I sometimes felt as if I were reading an interview. Laufer also jumped around a lot. A chapter about the environmental effects on butterfly habitat from building the wall between the U.S. and Mexico turned into a couple of pages about eating insects.

I also got the feeling that Laufer is pretty partisan (in a liberal kind of way, which makes it slightly more tolerable for me), and that he jumped at the chance to throw in a couple of punches on his favorite subjects. Creation v. Evolution got some attention because the owner of a butterfly farm in Florida was super religious, but it seemed off-topic to me. And if you're going to name-drop Ann Coulter and Bill O'Reilly, you're just trying to stir people up. Coulter and O'Reilly have no place in any kind of civilized discussion. And it's not that I don't agree with Laufer politically, but blatant partisanship leads to people not thinking, which I find really, really annoying.

#90 - "Good Omens" by Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

I picked up Good Omens (1990) by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman because of a fellow Cannonball review. I haven't read anything else by either author, but I'd seen enough glowing reviews and comments that I didn't want to miss out. I sped through the whole book in two days, very much enjoying it. After reading Peace Like a River, it was kind of refreshing to read a book that didn't take religion--or the end of the world for that matter--very seriously.

The novel begins with Aziraphale ("an angel, and part-time rare book dealer") and his nemesis/turned-grudging-friend-after-6,000 years, Crowley ("an angel who did not so much fall as saunter vaguely downwards"). Heaven and Hell are ready to do battle for the Earth and the end of the world is fast approaching. The only problem is that, although they cannot disobey their respective bosses, Crowley and Aziraphale have grown rather fond of the world and would prefer to wait a little longer before its final destruction. With young Adam, the lost anti-christ, and his friends, the apocalyptic horsepeople, satanic nuns, witchfinders, and others filling out the rest of the cast, there's a lot to hold your attention while the end of the world draws near.

The heart of the book is the odd couple/buddy relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley. It was while reading the banter in their scenes that I could most imagine Good Omens as a movie. I saw Robert Downey, Jr. as Crowley and Ewan McGregor as Aziraphale, and I would love to see those images in my head come to life (if done well). Much of the rest of the book is a hodgepodge of characters creatively executed and used for laughs. Pratchett and Gaiman don't limit their sarcastic wit to making fun of religion. It feels like they target whatever they recently found annoying, including telemarketers. Being not especially well-versed in the Bible or all things British, a number of jokes probably went over my head, but not enough that I ever really felt I was missing out. Clever and funny with a deeper core proclaiming the absurdity of religion as the ultimate fight between good and evil, this book was entertaining and satisfying.

#89 - "The Eye of the Elephant" by Delia and Mark Owens

When Delia and Mark Owens left their graduate studies at the University of Georgia and headed to Africa to study the ever-dwindling wildlife, they ended up staying over twenty years, eventually producing three memoirs on their lives and struggles in the bush. I had stumbled upon Secrets of the Savanna (2006), their latest book, at the library and have finally gotten around to reading the other two. The three books make up a trilogy of their experiences in Africa, and I kind of wish I had been able to read them in order, starting with Cry of the Kalahari (1984), but I still enjoyed them. The Eye of the Elephant (1992) is the second book in the series and details how and why Mark and Delia Owens moved their studies from the deserts of Botswana to the often flooded North Luangwa National Park in Zambia.

It took me a little longer to get into The Eye of the Elephant, which might have had something to do with already knowing a lot of the story from a time when they knew more about the animals and people surrounding them. Although elephants are the focus of their lives, Mark and Delia are so busy fighting poachers and finding dead elephants that they actually learn very little about them. But it's still a fascinating story. Mark and Delia Owens live their lives in the wilderness of Africa, seeing things that most Americans will never get to see and fighting a dangerous and often hopeless battle against poaching and corruption.

One aspect that I found particularly satisfying for me was the Owens' discussion of the drastic impact the United Nations Convention for International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) had on poaching in the park. In early 1989, CITES voted to list the African elephant as an endangered species and prohibited the sale of all elephant parts for two years. The price of ivory dropped from $136/pound to $1.36/pound. North Luangwa recorded only 12 dead elephants in 1990, down from the previous 1000 per year. The numbers are staggering and meaningful. During law school I was assigned to write an article on developments in International Environmental Law for the year, and I focused a lot on the CITES meetings and discussions. However, I couldn't tell from my perspective that the endless conferences, discussions, and listing of animals were actually making a difference, and it all seemed pretty pointless to me. It's nice to know that I was wrong.