It's difficult to imagine that anyone so lucky as to have the opportunity to visit the Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in West Virginia wouldn't be fasIt's difficult to imagine that anyone so lucky as to have the opportunity to visit the Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in West Virginia wouldn't be fascinated enough by its imposing structure and storied history to try and learn more about the institution. Unfortunately, commercial works on the asylum are rarer than a rational scientific approach to mental health in the 19th century.
Lunatic, a slim volume of exactly the type hawked in gift shops, attempts to fill the void. To its credit, the book opens with a few lines that are the definition of truth in advertising, proclaiming that "The following is an informal, anecdotal narrative detailing the rise and fall of a 19th century insane asylum and the tumultuous events in and around the Asylum and in the United States in general that affected the causes and treatment of insanity." In other words, it's a brief gloss over the history of mental health care in America, West Virginia during the Civil War, and the construction of the asylum, sprinkled with anecdotes about famous people who visited the site (Dorothea Dix!) or interesting patients. If it's not at least 80% verbatim what shows up on the historical tour at TALA, I'd be very surprised. (Full disclosure: I've read whole books about ice pick lobotomies, so I took the ghost tour instead.)
Despite the sketchy sentence construction, poorly reproduced photos, and questionable sourcing (as far as I can tell, the only work cited in the bibliography that deals directly with TALA is an oral history done as part of a thesis in 2008, with the rest mostly being general works on the history of mental health care), the subject is captivating enough to keep you reading. Descriptions of locals turning out to stare at inmates' weekly dances offer a lurid reminder that insanity was once a spectator sport, and brief references to the lives of individuals involved with the construction and operation of the asylum are tantalizing albeit frustrating.
One day someone will write a definitive history of the Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, but until then we'll have to content ourselves with amateur efforts such as Lunatic which, while somewhat lacking in scholarship, at least offer the compensation of earnest local charm.
Merged review:
It's difficult to imagine that anyone so lucky as to have the opportunity to visit the Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum in West Virginia wouldn't be fascinated enough by its imposing structure and storied history to try and learn more about the institution. Unfortunately, commercial works on the asylum are rarer than a rational scientific approach to mental health in the 19th century.
Lunatic, a slim volume of exactly the type hawked in gift shops, attempts to fill the void. To its credit, the book opens with a few lines that are the definition of truth in advertising, proclaiming that "The following is an informal, anecdotal narrative detailing the rise and fall of a 19th century insane asylum and the tumultuous events in and around the Asylum and in the United States in general that affected the causes and treatment of insanity." In other words, it's a brief gloss over the history of mental health care in America, West Virginia during the Civil War, and the construction of the asylum, sprinkled with anecdotes about famous people who visited the site (Dorothea Dix!) or interesting patients. If it's not at least 80% verbatim what shows up on the historical tour at TALA, I'd be very surprised. (Full disclosure: I've read whole books about ice pick lobotomies, so I took the ghost tour instead.)
Despite the sketchy sentence construction, poorly reproduced photos, and questionable sourcing (as far as I can tell, the only work cited in the bibliography that deals directly with TALA is an oral history done as part of a thesis in 2008, with the rest mostly being general works on the history of mental health care), the subject is captivating enough to keep you reading. Descriptions of locals turning out to stare at inmates' weekly dances offer a lurid reminder that insanity was once a spectator sport, and brief references to the lives of individuals involved with the construction and operation of the asylum are tantalizing albeit frustrating.
One day someone will write a definitive history of the Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, but until then we'll have to content ourselves with amateur efforts such as Lunatic which, while somewhat lacking in scholarship, at least offer the compensation of earnest local charm....more
Covers Sillman's time in the army stationed in Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, and finally Florida (2/24/1864-6/25/1865), hence my iCovers Sillman's time in the army stationed in Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, and finally Florida (2/24/1864-6/25/1865), hence my interest. While Sillman spent much of his time working as a clerk in headquarters at the old Sanderson house in Jacksonville, where he describes the people and places, he also goes on a raid/trip to Volusia and St. Augustine. Most notable for the shade thrown at the revered Reverend John Sanford Swaim for not working hard enough on his church and for Sillman's harrowing description of the refugees from Andersonville who walked into town from where the Rebels dumped them at Baldwin....more
More interesting for the bookending narratives about the discovery of Condit's manuscript and its historical and literary context than for the "novel"More interesting for the bookending narratives about the discovery of Condit's manuscript and its historical and literary context than for the "novel" itself. Unless you're into mid-19th century hunters killing far more animals in Central Florida than they could ever possibly eat, then not even bothering to take trophies. Also if your solution to the question "How do I catch a squirrel?" is "By cutting down its tree, obvs!", it's just possible you've got issues that need addressing....more
Despite its title, Florida in World War II spends a fair amount of time talking about more general aspects of the war...and then just reciting a litanDespite its title, Florida in World War II spends a fair amount of time talking about more general aspects of the war...and then just reciting a litany of military base names. Only Camp Blanding and Camp Johnston get what might be considered the full treatment, and while these chapters (and the one on Florida's wartime epidemic of venereal disease) are excellent, they're not quite enough to compensate for the overall generic content.
Probably best used for providing a broad overview for those not already familiar with the topic, and for enjoying the admittedly fantastic collection of historical photos featured in the text. ...more
Less a history than a culinary journey toward a heart attack, John Edge's Fried Chicken takes the reader on a cross-country tour of one of our nation'Less a history than a culinary journey toward a heart attack, John Edge's Fried Chicken takes the reader on a cross-country tour of one of our nation's most iconic foods. Edge, who as the long-time director of the Southern Foodways Alliance certainly has deep fried-cred, travels from New Jersey to Ohio to Los Angeles, sampling recipes and soliciting stories from cooks from a diversity of traditions. It's genial and personable and well-told and the entire thing made me want to reach for a bottle of Lipitor.
Given that I picked this up looking for more of an examination into the history of fried chicken, particularly in regard to its role in Black entrepreneurship during Reconstruction, I should have been disappointed, but Edge is too good a host for me to regret sharing a meal with him even if the menu wasn't quite what I expected. (In fairness, there's a touch of what I was looking for in the chapter on Gordonsville, VA, which discussed the waiter-carriers who had hocked their birds to the passengers on the trains that came through the junction there.)
A word of caution: Read at your own risk, because this will definitely leave you wanting chicken and waffles....more
On June 12, 1942, George Dasch and three other German nationals landed on a Long Island beach as part of Operation Pastorius, a Nazi plan to sabotage On June 12, 1942, George Dasch and three other German nationals landed on a Long Island beach as part of Operation Pastorius, a Nazi plan to sabotage power grids and foment public dissension. Within a week, Dasch walked into an FBI office and confessed the entire plan - including information about a second team landed in Florida - and surrendered the $84,000 in cash he'd been given to carry out the mission.
According to the F.B.I., Dasch got cold feet at the last minute.
According to Dasch, he was a victim of circumstance sucked into a mission he morally opposed and which he intended from the first to scuttle by any means necessary.
Eight Spies Against America - the original 1959 edition of Operation Pastorius, which is what I read and is as far as I can tell is identical other than lacking the introduction - is Dasch's version of how he came to be on that beach on Long Island, the deal he made with the U.S. Government, and the years of his life he lost when they reneged. Most of his story is coincidental enough to be plausible, and Lord knows you don't have to go very far to convince me Hoover's F.B.I. was up to some real fuckery, but it's clearly a narrative by a man desperate to clear his name. Were his intentions always good? Or were they simply subject to a case of nerves? I'm inclined to believe that, as with many complicated stories, the truth lies somewhere in between.
I picked this up for the Florida history angle, but there's precious little to be gleaned about that, and though Dasch does spend a fair amount of time talking about the training both groups received he doesn't have much to say about most of his fellow would-be-saboteurs. Still, it's a compelling story - and a fairly compelling argument - from a man who in the end died a very long way from home....more
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