The Industrial Revolution changed the world forever, but did you know that one result of all that early-19th-century digging to create canals and mines and quarries was the revelation that dinosaurs once roamed the earth? In this utterly delightful book, Edward Dolnick re-creates what it must have been like to discover these huge bones and footprints preserved in ancient mud and then piece together the meaning of it all. The author wisely focuses on the characters who chased after the fossils, from the plucky Mary Anning, who as a teenager in Lyme Regis dug up what scientists dubbed ichthyosaurus (fish lizard), 17 feet long with enormous jaws and fearsome teeth, to Richard Owen, a famed scientist who knew Queen Victoria but had the misfortune, as Dolnick describes him, as looking like Uriah Heep.
Awarded money to write a report on “fossil reptiles of Great Britain” in 1837, Owen dealt first with seagoing creatures, such as Anning’s discovery, and then land-based creatures, which he named “dinosaurs,” derived from the Greek words for “terrible” and “lizard.” (In those days, “terrible” was akin to “formidable,” and not so much to “really awful.”) How did Owen then use his findings to disprove the new theory of evolution? That saga alone is worth the price of this hugely entertaining book.
Charlatans are a nonpartisan bunch, as Joe Conason says, but Republicans of the Trump persuasion are especially good grifters, and though the former president and current G.O.P. candidate may be the prince of corruption, he is only the latest in a long line of shysters who have profited by selling a political message that in the end only enriches themselves. From the lavish expense accounts of young Senate aide Roy Cohn to the direct-mail grubbery of Richard Viguerie, to the tax-exempt but pocket-lining activities of Jerry Falwell’s Moral Majority, Conason creates a compelling diorama that includes “phony charities… watered penny stocks, overpriced gold, and useless dietary supplements.” One guess on who Conason will vote for this November, but he never lets his politics get in the way of crackerjack storytelling.
It is a tradition at Brown University that when the trustees and fellows finish their terms, they write resignation letters. If a collection of these letters does not sound like compelling reading, you would be wrong, since so many of them not only capture the tenor of their times but offer insight and wisdom about the mission of a university. And a special shout-out to Jonathan M. Nelson, a billionaire investor who in his resignation letter as a fellow wonders aloud how as a rebellious and bored 16-year-old he managed to get into Brown in the first place.
Jim Kelly is the Books Editor at AIR MAIL
