The Best Advice I Ever Got: Lessons fron
Extraordinary Lives by Katie
OK, so here’s me,
reading any self-help book: “Profound! So simple, yet so meaningful…”
Then, one week
later: “…What was that book about, again?”
So yeah. I’m
running true to form here.
I listened to the audiobook, and I liked it plenty. Couric contacted a whole passel of
famous people and asked them to write a short essay on the best advice they
And some of the essays are actually great. And a few of them I
had to fast-forward through because they were so self-congratulatory I wanted
to hurl. But most of them
contained some darn good advice.
Which I promptly
But here are the
few things that I jotted down in time, so they weren’t lost forever.
“Be comfortable with the uncomfortable.”—General David Petraeus
[I’ll refrain from
commenting about his personal ethics, though I’m sorely tempted to do so.]
Basically, this one’s about learning new things and taking risks and being OK
with the discomfort of trying something unfamiliar. And I’ve been getting some practice in this realm, and I like it.
This one made me
gasp: “Treat yourself as well as you treat others.”—Gloria Steinem.
of us have some work to do there.
And here’s my
favorite line, from Couric herself: “We have an obligation to find and give
joy.” As responsibilities go, that’s one I can happily embrace.
Amidst the book geek’s ravings, this post also includes 3 quizzes. Here’s the first…
Quiz 1: Name these Mercury 7 astronauts.
Recently I spent a weekend re-reading Tom Wolfe’s book The Right Stuff, forsaking all other books.
It was one of the best reading experiences of my adult life.
It was my second time reading The
Right Stuff, and I think it was even better this time around. Last
time I read it, it launched me (ha! space pun!) on a space reading
kick that’s lasted ever since. But when I first read it, back in 2007, I didn’t
know much about most of the people in the book. Pete Conrad, Gus Grissom… who
Well, now I’ve read about those fellows, and I’ve read John Glenn’s autobiography (and I just bought a copy of Chuck Yeager’s, but I haven’t cracked it yet—thus bolstering one of Wolfe’s points about the astronauts getting all the glory while the other pilots were treated more or less like chopped liver) and lots of other space books.
But this one… this one is the Thing.
The first time I read it, and the second time I read it, this book had me at page 11. Here’s the sentence that just killed me:
“And the bridge coats came out and they sang about those in peril in the air and the bridge coats were put away, and the little Indians remarked that the departed was a swell guy and a brilliant student of flying; a little too much of a student, in fact; he hadn’t bothered to look out the window at the real world soon enough.” (p. 11)
It’s the third time the bridge coats are evoked, and those fine bridge coats mean death. They’re funeral clothes, and the image of those young pilots hauling out their best uniform coats and then storing them again, then pulling them out again… it gets a person, you know?
Wolfe is a gorgeous stylist—an utter genius at putting together a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter. This book is a masterpiece.
And the thing is, it’s so darn readable!
Often, when people speak of a writer’s gorgeous writing, it seems they’re talking about writing that is all lush and overblown and complicated and hard to read. This book is not like that. It’s easy to read, it’s a pleasure to read, and it just flows. But it’s not at all simple…
While the writing is stunning, the thing about this book that makes me love it is the sense of heroism. And the way the actual pilots and astronauts were horrified by such a word.
For example: After Chuck Yeager broke the sound barrier, journalists descended upon Muroc Field. “The real problem was that reporters violated the invisible walls of the fraternity. They blurted out questions and spoke boorish words about… all the unspoken things!—about fear and bravery (they would say the words!) and how you felt at such-and-such a moment! It was obscene!” (p. 47)
I love and adore this.
OK, time for Quiz 2…
Who is in the cockpit of the P-51 Mustang in the picture on the left? Hint: He’s the guy wearing the tan shirt and white cap in the 2nd photo below.
So let’s try one more…
Quiz 3: Name this astronaut.
Wolfe also describes the way grown
men—hardened men: police officers along the parade route—would weep upon seeing
John Glenn after his successful Earth orbit. Wolfe (correctly, I think) chalks
it up to the notion of the single combat warrior: the designation of a single
man to represent his tribe in a fight to the death against a single warrior
from another tribe. We simple beings tend to get overwhelmed by such things.
And I get it. I still get choked up every single time I hear Scott Carpenter say, “Godspeed, John Glenn,” as the countdown begins. (I actually can’t even think of those words without my face crumpling up.)
The only other things that can create the same feeling of ecstasy are visiting the National Air & Space Museum (where I have been known to do the following:
a) stand with my mouth hanging open in sheer awe
b) blink rapidly and look at the floor in order to avoid embarrassing crying-for-joy episodes, and
c) smile so broadly my face nearly cracks)
…and the spectacular documentary In the Shadow of the Moon (to which I am fully addicted. I’ve watched it at least 10 times, and I’ve only just begun.)
So, here it is. A book with that kind of power, it’s going on my Top 10 list. And now I own a copy, so I can rest easy, knowing it’s under my roof and available to re-read at a moment’s notice.
And in these ways, I know life is good.
Quiz 1 answers—Back row, l-r: Alan Shepard, Gus Grissom, Gordon Cooper; Front row, l-r: Wally Schirra, Deke Slayton, John Glenn, Scott Carpenter
Quiz 2 answer—Just in case you missed the way I spoiled the quiz by answering it in the photo credit note, that dude is Chuck Yeager himself!
Quiz 3 answer— John Glenn, after being picked up by the USS Noa after splashdown in Friendship 7
If you named ’em all, you
have earned serious bragging rights. Truly. Also: Welcome to my club; you’re a
certified space geek.
Apollo: Race to the Moon by Charles Murray and Catherine Bly Cox This book = Triumph of the Geeks There are hardly any astronauts in this book, which may seem weird. But. There are tons and tons of engineers and such-like people. And they’re not nearly as exciting as astronauts, yet still this was a good book. So: happy days! This is the book in which I first learned truly to appreciate Christ(opher Columbus) Kraft and Glynn Lunney. In most of the Apollo documentaries I’ve seen, Gene Kranz is the talking head representing the flight directors (the dudes referred to simply as “Flight” during a mission), and Glynn Lunney gets short shrift, poor fella. And Chris Kraft was the grand poobah, and here we get to know about him. And, speak of the devil, here he is:
(Oh, please note: Big news: John Glenn Himself introduces this segment, and he is cute as a button.)
(Ooo ooo oooo!! One more thing: The guys pictured in the frame right this very second are the Apollo 11 crew: Armstrong, Collins, and Aldrin. Armstrong is just to the right of the bearded fellow.)
In the first few pages of this book, I knew I would like it, because the writing is lovely: it doesn’t get in your way, and it just purrs along nicely. When this happens, I know the author knows what he/she is doing; I actually stop and notice—and I appreciate it. So, even though the astronauts are sort of afterthoughts in this book (and I love those astronauts), this book really makes the guys (and the one or two women) on the ground seem heroic, too.
A Man on the Moon: The Voyages of the Apollo Astronauts by Andrew Chaikin
While watching HBO mini-series From the Earth to the Moon on DVD (initial reaction: “Rats, it’s not a documentary!”—then, after one episode: “This is fantastic!”) I saw that the series was based in part on this book. So I hauled it home from the library and dove in. And stayed there a while—this book has 680 pages, if you count the appendices, notes, and index. And in this book’s case, 680 pages is a good thing.
One might think, “A 680-page tome on the Apollo missions… [yawn]” but boy, would one be wrong, Wrong, WRONG.
Chaikin talked with the astronauts, with their families, and with others at NASA, and the result is a book that focuses on the human experience of preparing to go to—and then actually visiting—the moon. While I have a certain appreciation for the technical whiz-bang wonders of getting humans into space and onto the lunar surface and returning them “safely to Earth” (as JFK put it), I confess I never crave the experience of reading a technical book on any subject. So this book, with its narrative tone and human-centric approach, was the right choice for me.
Though, speaking of technical manuals… While I was reading A Man on the Moon, this little news item, which includes three of my favorite things—libraries, the Smithsonian, and the space program—appeared on The Face*, and I got all excited. And then, shortly thereafter, this fine thingalso appeared on The Face. But I digress…
Someone described A Man on the Moon as “picking up where The Right Stuff left off,” (Oh! It’s Pete Conrad, on the back cover of the book!) and I think that’s a fair statement. (Though do the Gemini missions get lost in the shuffle, perhaps? Those poor overlooked dudes.)
I shall conclude with an ode to Michael Collins, whom I believe to be a perfectly lovely human. He seems to glow with affection for all that surrounds him, and I just cannot resist that. Just a couple of Apollo 11 quotes from the man: “Beautiful burn, SPS, I love you, you are a jewel!” and “You cats take it easy on the lunar surface.” Of him, Chaikin writes, “To reporters faced with Armstrong’s inscrutability, Aldrin’s technical relentlessness, Collins was a breath of fresh air. He fielded their queries with good humor; his face seemed to say that yes, these are interesting questions.” (p. 175) What a beautiful human being. And if, 40 years after the big event, Michael Collins chooses to express an occasional burst of discontent with the world of celebrity, I’m impressed by how un-grumpy he remains. And how lucky he considers himself.
And I’ll complete my happy talk here by thanking Andrew Chaikin for writing this fine book. It’s a world unto itself, and I’m glad I spent so many happy hours there. I gave it one of them five-star reviews on Shelfari and Good Reads; that doesn’t happen every day.
I defy any woman to read this book and not fall in love with John Ceepak. But let’s back up a step— This fantabulous mystery debut is narrated by young Danny Boyle, a townie who assists with part-time summer policing. Ceepak, his partner, is the real deal: not only a full-time officer, but a man who lives by a Code. So when a young girl runs down the street, screaming that her father has been shot at the local amusement park, Ceepak is the natural lead officer on the case. Boyle, whose youthful, somewhat cynical, voice is a delight, shadows Ceepak and offers occasional insight that his hometown background provides. Theirs is a tourist town, and murder does not sit well with the city fathers. As the case becomes more complex, it also begins to reek of a conspiracy. And when it all comes together, it is even uglier than Ceepak, haunted by his past demons, could have imagined. I’m darting to the library to check out the next book.
I have no problem with biographers admiring their subject. McCullough clearly thinks the world of Harry S. Truman, and I can understand why. Truman was the real deal: a great politician who was also a great – and good – man. He worked hard, failed, succeeded, used great intelligence and common sense, and made tough choices. He loved his wife and considered her his sweetheart all his life. He inspired great devotion from his staff. And throughout everything, he remained cheerful! (Though he vented by writing very angry letters he never sent. Thank goodness he did something; otherwise he’d be a bit too good to be true.) When it comes to Truman, I think the more we know about him, the better we like him and the more we respect him. And here, McCullough gives us 1117 pages of Truman, so by the end, you can’t help but think well of him. He was, as they say, a very uncommon common man. If you cannot get enough of McCullough on Truman, or if you want the very brief version, check out the Truman Presidential Library’s podcast of a speech delivered by David McCullough on June 13, 2007.
Is it fact? Is it fiction? Look out, folks – it’s… a nonfiction novel. I kept wondering how much was made up, but then I got over it and just read, realizing that “New Journalism” works for me. What a whopping good book. The grand old men of the space race feature here… back when they were quite young men, and ready to take on the moon and stars. This is where I first fell for John Glenn. The other original Mercury astronauts are here, plus Chuck Yeager; all are young, frightfully fearless, and could land any aircraft anywhere with their eyes shut. Wolfe’s writing about the lives (and deaths) of test pilots will stay will stay with me always, as will his description of the scene where Annie Glenn had a stand-off with Lyndon B. Johnson. (Truth: stranger – and more wondrous – than fiction!) Wolfe evokes the intense patriotism and hero worship that Americans felt about these men. There’s a neat edition of the book called The Right Stuff: Illustrated, which, as one might expect, contains oodles of photos. It’s terrific, except that I found it difficult to read because of the format of the pages. So my recommendation is to read the un-illustrated version, then check out the illustrated edition from the library just for the photos.
John Glenn: A Memoir by John Glenn and Nick Taylor
When I think of John Glenn, the first word that comes to mind is: honorable. He’s one of a dying breed, I fear. I was first impressed by the account I read of him in Tom Wolfe’s The Right Stuff. He’s a man who takes duty seriously, and I respect that enormously. And when I read his memoir, I liked him even more. A good, decent man who has achieved greatness.
The Titanic disaster has been the subject of oodles of books, many of which I’ve read, but I keep going back to this old chestnut. Walter Lord has written the most wonderfully readable narration of the events of April 14 – 15, 1912, on that ill-fated voyage. His writing is clear, concise, and compelling. Best of all, he conveys a sense that “you are there.” (Anyone else remember those Walter Cronkite documentaries we saw in school?) If you read only one book about the Titanic, make it this one.
A gentle story about a violent act that tears a young man from his family. Young Reuben tells the story of his brother Davy, who kills two boys who invade the family’s home and then goes on the lam; his spirited little sister Swede; and his remarkable father, whose quiet strength is glorious. Listening to the audiobook version was a pleasure. An excellent book discussion selection, and the kind of book I wished would never end.