This memoir touched my heart. Yes, Herschel Cobb is probably idolizing his famous grandfather, but so what -- I idolize my beloved, late grandparents a bit, too. 

Was the famously irascible Ty Cobb the old pussycat his grandson makes him out to be? Perhaps not. But for a few weeks, over the course of a few years, he was the child's life-line, as the boy suffered through physical and emotional abuse, as well as neglect from his parents. The elder Cobb was the man young Herschel needed in his life to survive, and probably saved him from turning into a violent or despairing man himself. 

So the story moved me. It was horrifying to realize that a child who came from a family with means could be just as badly abused--terrorized really--as a poor child. And he needed the love and support he received from his grandfather (as well as various aunts and his grandmother) as desperately as any child. 

It also makes me aware that some children never find their lifeline -- they survive by their own wits. Or the cycle doesn't break. So yes, it's the overlay of this being a "famous family," that drew me in to the memoir, but in the end, that mattered far less than the human connection told of within. Does it matter that it was a story about Ty Cobb? Not as much as it mattered that the boy, Herschel, survived. 

-cg

I always intended to read Nic Sheff's memoir, "Tweak," and his father, David Sheff's memoir, "Beautiful Boy," consecutively, and close together.

Around the time they were published, father-and-son did press together. I remember them on at least one of my favorite Public Radio shows - "Studio 360," or "Fresh Air," or "To the Best of Our Knowledge," probably, or maybe more than one of them. Their stories were so intimately intwined it just seemed like the right reading choice. 

I completely recommend this method for reading these books. One story informs the other. Emotion is heightened through both books. It's quite an intense experience. 

It's also kind of a fun little puzzle, matching up parallel scenes and characters between the two books, where names and details are changed a bit, for reasons, I'm sure. Even the acknowledgement pages have some interest. Both Sheffs thank "Armistead." How many "Armisteads" could there be in the greater Bay area? Has to be Armistead Maupin, right? And is this also Nic's honorary godfather? They don't say. Some little mysteries are even a bit more delicious when they aren't solved. 

However, there is one mystery I that I do not understand and wish I did: The mystery of the publishing world. Nic Sheff's book is published under the Ginee Seo imprint of Atheneum Books for Young Readers. I suppose it's fine for an older teen to read this book, but as it covers basically Nic Sheff's 19th through 22nd years, with extremely frank descriptions of drug use, sex, and violence, nothing about this says YA to me. Luck of the publishing draw? I guess. 

-cg

I work at a university. Over the past year, we've been working with a new strategic plan, as an organization, and the first, most vital point of that plan has been a discussion of liberal arts, a passion area for me. Far too much is happening, and there are far too many ideas to discuss here - plus, I want to tie this column directly to a book - so I'm going to narrow in. 

I talk a lot with my students about the value of liberal arts (liberal, I remind them, in this case means "broad," not necessarily "left"). The specific, tangible benefits of liberal arts often need to be enumerated, because they're less obvious than in the professional or vocational disciplines. But every scholar of the liberal arts know that the intangible benefits of the education are where your heart goes.

Sometimes, in my reading, I run across some statement that makes me sit up and say, "Yes! This is liberal arts. This is what happens when you open yourself up broadly to the gifts of learning." I'm going to quote a few sentences from Vera Brittain's "Testament of Youth" here. Her moving memoir is a bildungsroman from a female (before the late 20th century, not a common thing at all), and a profound meditation on what happened to the youth of Britain, an entire generation decimated and affected primally and permanently by The Great War.

With students investing so much in their educations these days, words like these help us and inspire us to continue the good fight for liberal arts:

(If you're following along at home, this is from pages 30-31of the 1934 American edition, published by Macmillan.)

"I suppose it was the very completeness with which all doors and windows to the more adventurous and colourful world, the world of literature, of scholarship, of art, of politics, of travel, were closed to me, that kept my childhood so relatively contented a time. Once I went away to school and learnt--even thought from a distance that filled me with dismay--what far countries of loveliness, and learning, and discovery, and social relationship based upon enduring values, lay beyond those solid provincial walls which enclosed the stuffiness of complacent bourgeoisdom so securely within themselves, my discontent kindled until I determined somehow to break though them to the paradise of sweetness and light which I firmly believed awaited me in the south." 

-cg

Recently, TV host Padma Laskhimi released a memoir entitled "Love, Loss, and What We Ate." Celebrity memoirs are "fine, whatever." They might be interesting or might be a cash-in opportunity. I fear that because Ms. Lakshimi is ex-model gorgeous, the host of a popular TV show, and probably has dishy tales to tell about the infamous literary celebrity Salman Rushdie, her book will become super-popular, and people will think her somewhat-clever title takes precedence. Over what?

Ilene Beckerman's charming, bittersweet 1995 memoir, "Love, Loss, and What I Wore" is a volume of little sketches of moments from Beckerman's life, each accompanied by a cartoon she drew of herself in the garments she remembers. The book is affecting, as Beckerman experiences loss from a very young age and moves straight through life as a survivor carrying those burdens in a way so many women can relate. It deserves to be remembered. Do look for it. 

The word for this book is "poignant."

And when you find it, remember, Beckerman's clever title came first; Lashimi's is the "borrow" or the "takeoff." 

-cg

A few weeks ago, I saw the new adaptation of Vera Brittain's "Testament of Youth." I read the book in anticipation and absolutely swooned. The movie lived up to my reading. Read what I thought of the book here: http://carissagreen50.booklikes.com/post/1228703/new-literary-hero-vera-brittain.

Alicia Vikander's performance was luminous, and it was nice that she wasn't a sex android in this film. (Of course all of the boys who drooled over her in "Ex Machina" probably ignored this picture.) She was beautifully dressed in period costume. If I owned the rose-pink dress she wore in the graduation scene, I'd never take it off. 

There were a few differences from book to movie - mostly to condense the events of the war into a coherent time-sensitive narrative. Malta disappears completely. Vera finding her brother in the field hospital in France never happened. And the scenes at the swimming hole the frame the story are basically a convenient narrative invention. But who cares? It was so beautiful and glorious. 

-cg