100 Books Like The Sheep, the Rooster, and the Duck

I was already a fan of Holmes’ The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science, and there was some overlap in this book, in the best sense—since what could be more wondrous or terrifying than humans taking flight for the first time. Falling Upwards became the definitive history for me while I researched my book for younger readers. It captures the human experience of flight in a lively, character-rich narrative with philosophical heft, straddling—as did early ballooning—science and spectacle. It’s an elegant, rollicking story built over a scaffold of sound scholarship. I couldn’t put it down.

This oversized coffee-table book is an archival treasure trove: a collection of primary source materials—contemporary articles, letters, broadsheets, and other rare material—arranged chronologically and packed with line drawings and spectacular full-color plates. The author lets the painstakingly harvested entries speak for themselves, with little comment or imposed context beyond the archival images, and the result is a rich tribute to the art of ballooning and its practitioners. Beautifully curated and visually dazzling, this is a browser’s delight.

I love the gossipy tone of Fulgence Marion’s 1870 tribute to aeronautical history and its heroes. It’s a lofty enterprise (anchored to the authorial “we”) but somehow feels intimate or even snarky at times, as if the author managed to be on hand for each ascent. You can almost imagine him peering over the shoulder of the aeronauts, explaining or challenging the flight “science” all the way. Wikipedia notes that Marion was the pen name of French astronomer and science fiction writer Camille Flammarion, a contemporary of Jules Vernes, which makes sense, but I can’t confirm it, so let’s just say that Marion (and/or his translator) is a wry observer, and the stellar line art is worth the price of admission. 

Also a bit gossipy or wink-wink in tone, Wright’s feminist take on early flight is good fun. She narrates the hair-raising adventures of female pioneers of balloon flight—from feisty French teenager Elisabeth Thible, the first woman in the air, to charismatic British actress Leticia Ann Sage, whom one newspaper credited with “that manly fortitude which constitutes the heroine.” Wright presents a memorable cast of women who were all willing and well able—whether for a day or for decades—to brave life in the upper stories. She narrates, too, how they did it despite danger and scandal, at a time when women had few options or outlets for challenging themselves personally or professionally.

I like this book because it is a large format, beautifully printed book illustrating the history of aerial photography.

It begins with the earliest Nadar photos taken in France from hot air balloons and chronologically goes through all the different kinds of aerial photography, including satellite images and iconic photographers who shot aerials. It explains the various techniques and ends with photographers who use more recent drone technology.

It exposed me to much history I did not know. 

An urban-fantasy about superheroes...and how horrible they are.  This story is about the “villains,” not the goodie goodie “heroes” who do nothing but leave disaster and death in their wake.  This is a fun read, packed with an intriguing relationship, thoughtful social questions, and an interesting world.  It may be short, but it’s super sweet.

Suppose conservative court justices objectively framed their decisions according to the original intent of the Founders. In that case, they would have more than adequate grounds to curb the influence of big money and well-heeled lobbyists in American politics.

Besides equating money to speech over the last half century, Courts have decided in major decisions since 1970 that large campaign contributions and lavish gifts from lobbyists to public officials are legal as long as there is no explicit quid pro quo.

The book’s title refers to the controversy over a snuff box given to Frankin by the King of France upon his leaving Paris. For Teachout, the cloud of scandal that enveloped Franklin is a good illustration of how the first- and (until recently) subsequent generations of Americans had a much broader understanding of the corrupting role of money and lavish gifts play in our politics.

I loved learning about the close ties that existed between Sweden and France in the late 18th century and the French Revolution figured in the plot of my novel. This fabulous non-fiction work explores the politics, intrigues, and plotting of the period through the intimate connection between Marie Antoinette, doomed Queen of France, and her purported lover, Axel von Fersen — a Swedish nobleman. The revolution was reaching a fevered pitch when King Gustav III of Sweden sent von Fersen to assist the French royal family in their escape from Paris — an epic failure told with passion by Mr. Loomis! 

I read the French edition of this book, and I found it most helpful as a reference for my own writing because Campan was close to Marie Antoinette as her servant and confidant. Moreover, Campan did not sugarcoat the queen’s life but rather offered an unbiased view of the queen's character.

Having read many current biographies of Marie Antoinette, I was thrilled to find Madam Campan’s because it was a unique and firsthand account of Marie Antoinette’s life at the court of Versailles. More importantly, Campan revealed why Marie Antoinette often behaved the way she did and debunked some of the scandals—some of which are still espoused today. In my opinion, Campan’s writing conveys sincerity and authenticity. On the other hand, some critics feel she is a bit biased.

Vigée Le Brun’s patron and friend, Queen Marie-Antoinette, had a major influence on the painter’s career. Zweig’s concise, compelling story, largely based on correspondence between Marie-Antoinette and her mother, Austrian Empress Maria-Theresa, later with the love of her life, Swedish diplomat Count Axel von Fersen, clarifies the queen’s character development with grace and understanding. 

Beautifully told by one of pre-World War II Europe’s finest writers, Zweig’s account paints a well-rounded, nuanced picture of Marie-Antoinette, from her personal pleasures as a mother and lover to her suffering and courage during the Revolution, thereby helping us to better understand the queen and Vigée Le Brun’s unique relationship and how it affected the painter.