(++++) A BATCH OF BRUCKNER

Bruckner: Symphony No. 5. Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Bernard Haitink. BR Klassik. $16.99 (SACD).

Bruckner: Symphony No. 6. London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Christoph Eschenbach. LPO. $16.99.

Bruckner: Symphony No. 8. Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Rafael Kubelik. BR Klassik. $12.99.

Bruckner: Symphony No. 8. Orchestre de la Suisse Romande conducted by Marek Janowski. PentaTone. $19.99 (SACD).

     The canard against Bruckner used to be that he did not so much write nine symphonies as write the same symphony nine times. We now know that Bruckner wrote 11 symphonies (including Nos. 0 and 00), and the casual dismissal of his accomplishment is grossly unfair. But like most biases and clichés, it contains a smidgen of truth. Bruckner did like to reuse themes and sections from symphony to symphony: for example, the main theme of the Fifth shows up on woodwinds in the Trio of the third movement of the Sixth, and the coda of the Adagio of the Eighth reappears in the Adagio of the Ninth. The great Bruckner conductors find a way to make the composer’s massive symphonies both individual expressions and parts of a magnificent cathedral-like Weltanschauung that is uniquely Bruckner’s.

     Bernard Haitink’s new recording of Bruckner’s Fifth confirms his position at the pinnacle of modern Buckner conducting. The performance, recorded live in Munich in February 2010, simply glows. This is a symphony pervaded by quotations from Mozart and from Bruckner’s own F Minor Mass, and also incorporating a gigantic fugue that leads to an ecstatic conclusion. Yet there is not a whiff of program music here, except in the general sense of religious redemption so common in Bruckner’s works. Haitink paces the symphony superbly, letting the three major Adagio sections (the introductions to the first and fourth movements, and the main pace of the second) breathe and expand in long, long lines, while moving the faster parts of the work quickly enough to produce and sustain drama – but not so speedily as to undermine the organic growth of the whole. The Bavarian Radio Symphony, one of the world’s great Bruckner orchestras, plays wonderfully from start to finish: the strings sweep and glow, the burnished brass provides beautifully rounded tone, and the woodwinds and percussion add piquancy and a deep underpinning, respectively, to a very thoughtful and emotionally expansive performance. The SACD sound is clear, bright and transparent: there is nothing turgid about this performance. And Haitink’s overview of the symphony results in its building, seemingly inevitably, from the themes that appear individually early in the work to their contrapuntal combination in the finale. This is Bruckner at his most rousing and resplendent.

     Christoph Eschenbach’s Bruckner Sixth is, in contrast, rather pale. The London Philharmonic plays very well for him, and the last two movements, in particular, are well paced and often quite dramatic. But the first two tend to drag and lose their way: the 60-minute performance seems longer than that of Haitink’s Bruckner Fifth, which runs 76 minutes. The Eschenbach CD is another live recording – dating to November 2009 – and the sound is quite good, although not at the level of the BR Klassik SACD. But Eschenbach does not appear to “take” to Bruckner very naturally; nor is the orchestra as imbued with the composer’s warmth and religiosity in the way that the Bavarian Radio Symphony seems to be. For example, the dotted notes that recur throughout this symphony initially appear in the second part of the first theme of the opening movement, and provide connective tissue for the whole work; but Eschenbach sometimes brings the rhythm to the fore and sometimes leaves it in the background, so the symphony seems to meander. And there is not as much contrast as there could be between the flowing second theme of the Adagio and its funeral-march-like third theme. Eschenbach really seems to get interested in the music only with the third movement, almost as if someone threw a switch and everything suddenly picked up in sensitivity as well as tempo. This movement and the finale – the latter especially when the brass becomes more and more prominent – are quite effective, and the performance as a whole gets a (+++) rating, largely on the strength of the symphony’s second half.

     Bruckner’s last completed symphony, the massive Eighth, presents challenges even beyond those of his earlier ones. Rafael Kubelik and Marek Janowski rise to those challenges in somewhat different ways – although, interestingly, their readings differ in total length by only a minute and a half. Kubelik’s (++++) performance is yet another live recording, appearing in the BR Klassik “Archive” series: it dates to May 1977, at which time Kubelik had been the Bavarian Symphony’s Music Director for 16 years and had turned the orchestra into one of the world’s most polished. Both Kubelik and Janowski conduct the 1890 version of the Eighth, although the Kubelik CD misidentifies the version as that of 1887 (that first version is rarely performed: the Georg Tintner recording for Naxos belongs in every Bruckner lover’s collection). There is also a third version of this symphony, prepared by Robert Haas in 1939 and incorporating elements of both earlier ones. All three forms of this work have elements to recommend them, but on balance, the one that Kubelik and Janowski use is the most satisfactory. Certainly it is wonderful as Kubelik directs it. This conductor had such amazing rapport with this orchestra that there seems to be near-intuitive understanding of everything Kubelik wants his players to do. The result is that transitions within movements flow gorgeously, without any of the awkwardness that can turn a Bruckner structure into something episodic. Kubelik’s recording sounds weighty, but not heavy: there is great clarity in individual lines, with the result that (for example) the bleak and quiet ending of the first movement, on low strings and low winds, pulls a listener inexorably downward (Bruckner created this soft conclusion for the 1890 version, and it is the only quiet ending of a first movement in any of his symphonies). Kubelik gives a sense that everything in the symphony is there from a kind of inevitability, making the work a whole more than equal to the sum of its parts, but whose parts fit together exactly as they should. Kubelik’s Bavarian Radio Symphony of 1977 is not, player for player, identical to the one Haitink conducts in 2010, but the way the orchestra continues to excel in Bruckner over decades show just how deeply permeated by the composer’s spirit it seems to be.

     The Orchestre de la Suisse Romande does not have this same Bruckner tradition, but it is quite a fine ensemble in its own right, and Janowski pulls from it both excellent massed sound and sensitive individual voices, such as the lovely strings in the first movement. The woodwinds are a particular strength of this orchestra, as the brass is at the Bavarian Symphony. Thus, Janowski’s reading tends to sound somewhat lighter and more transparent than Kubelik’s, although there is still plenty of power in the climaxes. The excellent PentaTone studio-recorded SACD provides a very wide range of sound – even the quietest passages are crystal-clear – and helps Janowski’s detail-oriented performance come through effectively. This recording too merits a (++++) rating, but it is somewhat outside the mainstream of today’s best Bruckner performances, with Janowski paying a great deal of attention to individual elements of each movement and less to the symphony’s grand overall structure. Janowski is also somewhat less emotional than Kubelik: the first movement’s conclusion, for example, is less depressive. Some of Janowski’s emphases work particularly well: the brass and harps in the Trio of the second movement, for example. In other parts of the symphony, his interpretation is less effective: the slow movement is filled with lovely details, but there is little sense of overall emotional progress or development from start to finish. The finale, though, strides forth boldly and with highly impressive brass and timpani, and the highlighting of individual instruments (clarinets, for example) melds nicely with the full-orchestra sections to produce an impressive conclusion – the very end of the movement is exceptionally dramatic. All four of these new Bruckner releases have elements worth hearing, and all four add to the continuing growth of the reputation of a composer whose symphonies remain among the grandest ever written – and among the most difficult to comprehend with just one hearing, or even a few. Having well-played recordings that illuminate different elements of these works is therefore a particular pleasure.

(+++) MULTIFACETED MUSIC FOR GRACEFUL GIVING

Paganini: Violin Concerto No. 1; Tchaikovsky: Sérénade Mélancolique; Valse-Scherzo. Midori, violin; London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Leonard Slatkin. Newton Classics. $12.99.

Debussy: Préludes (excerpts). Jorge Bolet, piano. Newton Classics. $12.99.

Earl Wild: Grand Fantasy on “Porgy and Bess”; Seven Virtuoso Études; Improvisation on “Someone to Watch over Me”; Piano Sonata. Xiayin Wang, piano. Chandos. $18.99.

Robert Johnson: The Prince’s Almain and Other Dances for Lute. Nigel North, lute. Naxos. $8.99.

Marie-Josée Lord Sings Opera Arias. Marie-Josée Lord, soprano; Orchestre Métropolitain conducted by Giuseppe Pietraroia. ATMA Classique. $16.99. 

Rachmaninoff: Liturgie de Saint Jean Chrysostome, Op. 31 (excerpts); Vêpres, Opus 37 (excerpts). Eva Ericson-Berglund, soprano; Joanna Dobrakowska, contralto; Romain Champion, tenor; Vladimir Miller, bass; Accentus and Eric Ericson Chamber Choir conducted by Laurence Equilbey. Naïve. $16.99. 

Early American Music, 1776-1861. Boston Camerata conducted by Joel Cohen. Erato. $12.99. 

American Spirituals, 1770-1870. Boston Camerata conducted by Joel Cohen. Erato. $12.99.

Scott Wheeler: Songs. Susanna Phillips, soprano; Krista River, mezzo-soprano; Joseph Kaiser, tenor; William Sharp, baritone; Donald Berman, piano. Naxos. $8.99.

Harold Meltzer: Brion; Two Songs from Silas Marner; Sindbad; Exiles. Vocalists, Cygnus Ensemble and Peabody Trio. Naxos. $8.99.

Bruce Wolosoff: Songs without Words. Carpe Diem String Quartet. Naxos. $8.99.

Jonathan Leshnoff: Double Concerto; Symphony No. 1, “Forgotten Chants and Refrains”; Rush. Charles Wetherbee, violin; Roberto Díaz, viola; IRIS Orchestra conducted by Michael Stern. Naxos. $8.99.

Bernstein: Sonata for Clarinet and Piano, arr. William Terwilliger; Sonata for Violin and Piano; Trio for Violin, Violoncello and Piano; Two House Songs, arr. Eric Stern; Four Moments from “Candide,” arr. Eric Stern. Opus Two (William Terwilliger, violin; Andrew Cooperstock, piano); Charles Bernard, cello; Marin Mazzie, soprano. Naxos. $8.99.

Alexandra Pajak: Sounds of HIV—Music Transcribed from DNA. Sequence Ensemble. Azica. $16.99.

Vikings on Vacation. Ensemble Polaris. Bisma Bosma/Pipistrelle. $16.99.

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 6; Prokofiev: Scythian Suite; Berg: Lulu-Suite; Mozart: “Ach, ich fühl’s” from “The Magic Flute.” Anna Prohaska, soprano; Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela conducted by Claudio Abbado. Accentus DVD. $24.99.

Wagner: Der Ring des Nibelungen (excerpts). Soloists, Cor de la Generalitat Valenciana and Orquestra de la Comunitat Valenciana conducted by Zubin Mehta. Unitel Classica DVD. $9.99.

     There are so many wonderful ways to give gifts to music lovers this season that it is almost possible to pick the name of a CD out of a hat and simply get the lucky recipient whatever comes up. Several hats, rather – musical tastes do differ, after all, and it makes sense to pick from the right kind of hat so as to have a better chance of coming up with something that the person will really enjoy. One hat could be labeled “traditional classical music,” for example. A fine choice from that would be either of two new Newton Classics CDs of music recorded in the late 1980s. Someone interested in the Romantic violin and in youthful performances by the violinist Midori will surely be charmed by her strong handling of Paganini’s First Violin Concerto, which she plays with real flair in this 1987 recording, and by the warmth and expressivity she brings to two well-known and dark-tinged Tchaikovsky works. A person who prefers the solo piano could scarcely go wrong with Jorge Bolet’s 1989 performance of 16 Debussy Préludes, in which the impressionistic tone painting comes through as clearly as does the virtuosity. Or, for solo pianism of a different kind, there is Xiayin Wang’s Chandos recording of piano works by Earl Wild – himself a formidable virtuoso and a Gershwin specialist. Wild based three of the four works here on Gershwin’s music, for which his affinity is obvious in the loving way he handles the tunes – just as his skill is obvious in the way he develops and varies them (with Wang managing all the challenges very well indeed). The fourth work, Wild’s Piano Sonata (written in 2000), is less immediately accessible, but shows the pianist’s command of form and his skill in constructing a work along largely traditional lines.

     A solo performance with virtuosity of a different sort is Nigel North’s recording of music by Robert Johnson (c. 1583-1633), a Shakespeare contemporary who actually wrote songs and incidental music for the Bard’s plays. Far less known than John Dowland, of whose works North is a champion, Johnson turns out to have had great skill both in dance rhythms and in lyrical expression, creating works in soon-to-be-obsolete forms that look ahead to the Baroque dance suites that were yet to come. North, a largely self-taught lutenist, plays all these works (a number of which he himself reconstructed) with considerable flair and a thorough understanding of performance practices of the 17^th century.

     The arias sung by Haitian-born Canadian soprano Marie-Josée Lord are from later times, but she too shows a fine sense of style in music that ranges from the entirely predictable (“Si Mi Chiamano Mimi” from La Bohème and the Habanera from Carmen) to two different Porgy and Bess arias (“Summertime” and “My Man’s Gone Now”) and "Le Monde Est Stone” from the 1978 rock opera Starmania by Michel Berger and Luc Plamondon. Lord’s rich, supple voice will be a treat for opera fanciers. And the vocals on a new Rachmaninoff CD will be especially pleasing for fans of this composer’s music – since the disc presents excerpts from two of his works that are far less often performed than his symphonies and piano concertos. The excerpts from Liturgie de Saint Jean Chrysostome and Vêpres show these to be strongly written, intense religious works that are very much in the Russian tradition (Tchaikovsky also wrote a Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, which is also infrequently performed). The performances here are good enough to make a listener wish to hear the works in their entirety.

     But if all those discs are in the “traditional classical” hat, what else might there be? How about an “American music” hat? Two excellent Erato CDs of early American vocal music offer unusual and very interesting programs. Early American Music, 1776-1861, includes music from the first days of the new nation (“Yankee Doodle” and “Jefferson and Liberty,” for instance), plus a number of works that modern listeners will have encountered rarely, if at all (“Poor Old Maids,” “Bob in the Bed,” “Clavergreen” and others). Joel Cohen directs all 25 works with style, and the Boston Camerata sings them with considerable enthusiasm. The same may be said of American Spirituals, 1770-1870, although here the enthusiasm is appropriately toned down to stay in line with the uplifting message of these hymns and pleas. There are 23 in all here, virtually none of which is well known anymore: “While Angels Strike,” “The Paralytic,” “Christian Race,” “Weeping Pilgrim” and others. This is the type of music that inspired the young Charles Ives, and listeners will be interested in the way the typically simple tunes are combined to good effect with heartfelt words expressing naïve but obviously sincere sentiments.

     The songs of Scott Wheeler (born 1952) have a very different sensibility but are equally moving in their own way. The new Wheeler CD is one of five fine recent releases in the Naxos “American Classics” series, any one of which would make a much-appreciated gift for lovers of modern American music. Wheeler’s songs convey a wide range of expression, often spiritual and nearly always thoughtful. This well-performed CD includes Serenata (1993), Sunday Songs (1999), Heaven and Earth (2007), excerpts from Singing to Sleep (1984), Litany (2006), Wasting the Night (1990), Mozart, 1935 (1997) and Turning Back (2007). There are songs on a new CD of music by Harold Meltzer (born 1966) as well – Two Songs from Silas Marner (2000-01) – but most of the music here is instrumental. Meltzer’s music often has considerable emotional power, although some listeners may find it more interesting than involving. The longest work on this CD, Sindbad (2004-05), is particularly intriguing, and is very well narrated by John Shirley-Quirk. Also here are Brion (2008) and Exiles (2001), the latter including some well-written vocal elements.

     The Songs without Words by Bruce Wolosoff (born 1955) follow, of course, in the tradition of Mendelssohn, but they are subtitled “18 Divertimenti for String Quartet” and in fact constitute an hour-long series of string miniatures. Each has a title, but listeners will have to decide for themselves how well “Blues for Stravinsky,” “The Letter,” “Skunk,” “Creepalicious,” “Cat Scratch Fever,” “Getting Down” and the rest of the names fit the music (the relationship is clearer in some cases than others). The works are very well played by the Carpe Diem String Quartet, and offer an interesting mixture of pop and classical compositional techniques. In contrast, the three pieces on a new Naxos CD of the music of Jonathan Leshnoff (born 1973) are not only classical in structure but also Romantic in temperament. They are tonal, expressive and range from the virtuosic Double Concerto to the attractively speedy Rush to the strongly felt, well-constructed Symphony No. 1. Unlike some modern composers, Leshnoff seems unafraid to embrace Romanticism while still using post-Romantic techniques and harmonies. As a result, his music may be easier than that of some other modern Americans for listeners to hear and enjoy.

     Leonard Bernstein’s “serious” music is not easy for many to hear, even two decades after Bernstein’s death. In addition to his ever-popular stage works, Bernstein wrote a good deal of music that was intentionally rather difficult, as if to prove his bona fides as a composer. Some of this music can be dry and academic, but Bernstein’s chamber music – of which he wrote very little – is effective and interesting. William Terwilliger arranged the Sonata for Clarinet and Piano for violin, and plays it very well indeed on Naxos’ new Bernstein CD – also offering a fine performance of the Sonata for Violin and Piano (which is very early Bernstein, written in 1939, when the composer was 21). The Piano Trio is even earlier (1937) and, if rather derivative, does show Bernstein’s mastery of classical forms. Eric Stern’s arrangements of music from Bernstein’s theater works (Two House Songs and Four Moments from “Candide”) provide a chance to contrast the “serious” chamber music with chamber versions of Bernstein’s work in a more “popular” style – in which, it must be said, there is a good deal more ebullience on display.

     If neither the traditional nor the American musical “hat” seems attractive for gift-giving to a particular person, how about a “crossover” hat? The term is a little odd – “eclectic” would be better, but may seem a touch too esoteric. The point of “crossover” music is mixture – going beyond what composers such as Wolosoff offer by creating pieces that, from the outset, are planned as blends. Alexandra Pajak (born 1987) deliberately mixes music and science to create Sounds of HIV, which uses the genetic code of the virus that causes AIDS as the basis for the sounds played by the Sequence Ensemble. Someone who listens to the entire 54 minutes of the CD has heard the entire genome of HIV. It might be reasonable to ask, “So what?” And it would be reasonable for Pajak to answer, “Because it’s there.” Pajak studied science and music as an undergraduate, and the two fields came together for her when a professor asked her to create a symphony based on DNA. Sounds of HIV is therefore a natural extension of what Pajak has been doing for several years. It is not especially interesting from a purely musical standpoint – some crossover music relies on the listener knowing that it is crossover music in order to have its full effect. But it is an intriguing attempt to find a very modern source for musical inspiration, much as composers for hundreds of years used the medieval Dies irae to inspire their works.

     Vikings on Vacation is a somewhat different sort of crossover, its whimsical title and CD cover reflecting the idea that the music does not fit any category neatly. The 18 tracks here range from arrangements of traditional tunes to a whole series of pieces composed by Kirk Elliott, who also performs (with Ensemble Polaris) on violin, Celtic harp, mandolin, accordions, bouzouki and bagpipes. The list of his instruments, all by itself, gives an idea of just how many different types of music are combined here. Another indication: Ensemble Polaris was founded by Alison Melville, who here performs on baroque flute, recorders and seljefløyte, the last of those being a traditional Norwegian shepherd’s flute (sometimes called “willow flute,” which is what the word actually means). This is music of multiple moods, multiple rhythms and multiple small slices of emotion – hard to pin down and hard to identify as likely to be pleasing to any particular sort of recipient. There is guesswork involved in giving this gift.

     And what about gifts for music lovers who like visuals with their sounds? In that “hat,” gift-givers could put either a symphony performance or (somewhat more logically) something operatic. The Lucerne Festival in March of this year, where Claudio Abbado led the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela, featured some well-paced if not especially profound music-making in works by Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev and Berg – plus Anna Prohaska’s attractive performance of Pamina’s aria from The Magic Flute. Like many concerts, this one was a mixture of disparate styles, the idea presumably being to have a bit of something for everyone. Certainly the young musicians play well, Prohaska’s voice is lovely, and the performances are fine. As a gift, the DVD works only if you are sure the recipient will be interested in seeing scenes from a concert featuring this particular musical mix. The exceptionally inexpensive DVD of excerpts from Wagner’s Ring cycle is another matter. The cost is so low that it is almost worth buying it for any lover of Wagner, even though the staging by La Fura dels Baus is distinctively and quite deliberately weird (as are so many Ring stagings nowadays). There are few “big-name” soloists in this production, which is clearly designed to be as big a treat for the eyes as for the ears, if not more so (lots of special effects, colored smoke, strange appliances on stage, performers stacked into pyramids – that sort of thing). Zubin Mehta in fact leads the performance quite creditably, but Wagner’s music scarcely seems to be the focus here – a rather odd state of affairs, when you think about it. But maybe thinking too much about this release is not the point: better to pick it up as something unusual for the Wagner lover who already has several more-traditional Ring performances and who will likely enjoy not only this nontraditional one but also a 30-minute DVD bonus called “Wagner Furioso.” Indeed, whatever hat you pull music out of this holiday season, there will be, or certainly should be, some magic in it.

(++++) GIFTS OF REALITY, SERIOUS AND SEMI-SERIOUS

Paying for College without Going Broke, 2011 Edition. By Kalman A. Chany with Geoff Martz. Princeton Review/Random House. $20.

The Battle of Nashville: General George H. Thomas & the Most Decisive Battle of the Civil War. By Benson Bobrick. Knopf. $19.99.

Why Dogs Eat Poop & Other Useless or Gross Information about the Animal Kingdom. By Francesca Gould and David Haviland. Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin. $12.95.

     Many seasonal gifts tend to be lighthearted, and gift books in particular seem mostly to be fiction that is easy to read, escapist or both. But if you are still casting about for presents for people who have more serious interests or concerns, there are some excellent new books out there that will make fine gifts for the right sort of person. Anyone getting ready to send a child to college – or go to college himself or herself – will benefit from the new 2011 edition of Paying for College without Going Broke (and what a great title that is). As always, Kalman Chany – an independent counselor on college financial aid since 1982 – approaches college financing as a kind of chess game. He and coauthor Geoff Martz indicate that it is not enough to follow the rules – you have to follow them creatively enough to maximize your chance of obtaining the financing you need. And you can get financing, the authors argue, even if your household income is in the $200,000 range. The trick (and it is not really a trick but a matter of doing good, solid research) involves knowing what to do and what not to do to maximize aid; how to find the best loans; how to get colleges to provide more aid if the initial offer is not enough; when special savings accounts such as 529s and Coverdells make sense and when they do not (because of tax implications and also because of the way the money in certain accounts is handled from an aid standpoint); and even what colleges to choose so as to get more aid (if you significantly exceed a school’s typical admission criteria, your value to the school goes up and your aid package should, too). Paying for College without Going Broke is more than a how-to guide – it is also a kit, containing sample forms (including the all-important FAFSA from the federal government) and specific instructions on the best way to fill the forms out. Not much changes from year to year in Paying for College without Going Broke (although the 2011 edition does feature an introduction by former President Bill Clinton, who uses it rather immodestly to score points about the education-related accomplishments of his administration). But not much has to change, since the book is so carefully crafted in the first place. Where updates are appropriate (for instance, in the expected cost of college in the coming academic year), they are provided in matter-of-fact fashion. Where the advice has stood the test of time, it is retained – and anyone needing to finance college in the coming year will be grateful to have it.

     Young teenagers not quite ready to agonize over college choices, but interested in history at either the high-school or college level, will find the gift of The Battle of Nashville an engrossing one. The subtitle’s reference to this less-known battle as the “most decisive” of the Civil War may give readers pause, but historian Benson Bobrick makes a good case for the assertion. Bobrick’s focus is not only a less-known battle of the war but also one of its less-known military figures, General George H. Thomas. Thomas was a Virginian, like Robert E. Lee, but while Lee identified primarily with Virginia and would not take up arms against his state, Thomas believed the nation as a whole was paramount, and he therefore led forces for the North (although whether he was “the greatest general of the North,” as Bobrick asserts, is arguable). Hated by the South as a turncoat, mistrusted by many in the North because of his Virginia roots, Thomas nevertheless fought wholeheartedly for the Union cause – and his leadership reached its apex in the Battle of Nashville in December 1864. Bobrick builds up to the battle with information on how the Civil War began, what it was about, who some of the important figures in it were, and what sorts of major battles had occurred before Nashville. This places the Nashville campaign clearly in context – while also giving Bobrick an opportunity to bring forth some unusual elements of it and of Thomas. Notably, the general “welcomed blacks into his army and was devoted to their training and care. Even though black soldiers had fought in a number of engagements before December 1864, it was Thomas alone who gave them their full dignity in battle and a major role in one of the decisive battles of the war.” After the smashing Union victory in Nashville, which Bobrick argues was the battle that made Lee’s surrender inevitable, Thomas was promoted and won other victories; after the war, he was military governor of five Southern states. But he remained relatively obscure, certainly compared with Ulysses S. Grant, William Tecumseh Sherman and several other Northern generals, and did not long survive the war, dying of an aneurysm in 1870. Bobrick’s story of Thomas and the crucial victory he engineered will be a fascinating one for serious young students of American history.

     If economic factors and 19^th-century battles seem a bit too intense for holiday gift-giving – but if you are still looking for something nonfictional for someone who prefers reality to make-believe – you can always turn to Why Dogs Eat Poop & Other Useless or Gross Information about the Animal Kingdom. Like its predecessor volumes, Why You Shouldn’t Eat Your Boogers and Why Fish Fart, this new romp through peculiar and frequently gross facts is accurate and well researched, but decidedly not for all tastes. This is the place to turn if you want to know about vampire birds – that’s birds, not bats: a certain kind of finch drinks the blood of other birds. Here you will meet a type of caecilian (a wormlike amphibian) whose young get their first meal by eating their mother’s skin (the mother grows it back afterwards). There is information on veterinarians giving dogs medicines for depression (whether this is a canine or human oddity is up to readers to determine); on toads that exploded in Germany after an unusual attack on them by crows; on the coma-like state that a shark enters if turned on its back; on the bird that can kill its enemies by vomiting on them (a seabird called the fulmar); and on the creature that collects owl vomit (that would be the human being: the pellets that owls cough up after digesting their food have a variety of scientific uses). Why Dogs Eat Poop may be a trifle unappetizing for the holiday season (unless the recipient is trying to avoid overeating), but for anyone interested in some of the odder aspects of the animal kingdom, it could be a very tasty gift indeed.

(+++) FAIRY TALES RETOLD

Lucy and the Green Man. By Linda Newbery. David Fickling Books. $16.99.

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #3—Night Whispers. By Erin Hunter. Harper. $16.99.

Tangled: The Junior Novelization; A Dazzling Day; Outside My Window. Adapted by Irene Trimble (Novelization). Adapted by Devin Ann Wooster; illustrated by Brittney Lee (Dazzling). By Melissa Lagonegro; illustrated by Jean-Paul Orpiňas, Studio IBOIX, and the Disney Storybook Artists (Window). Random House. $4.99 (Novelization); $3.99 each (Dazzling; Window).

     Fairy tales are as alive, as lively and as well as ever these days, even if they are not always identified as fairy tales by authors or readers. The basic notion of interventional magic in the world never really disappears, living on in forms as diverse as the foundations of religions on the one hand and the continued retelling of old secular stories on the other. For preteens and young teenagers, newly fashioned fairy tales often show up in the guise of “magical realism,” which simply means the stories appear to take place in the real world but are altered just enough to allow magic to enter. Lucy and the Green Man and the multiple Warriors series use this approach, albeit in different ways. Linda Newbery’s book seems to be about a garden-loving young girl named Lucy and the sadness she endures, then overcomes, after her grandfather’s death. But it is more: it is also the story of Lob, the Green Man who lives in the garden at Grandpa’s cottage and can be seen by only a few people. Lucy strongly believes in Lob, and after the family tragedy, she repeatedly asks Lob to come to her so they can garden together somewhere else. There is no mystery or uncertainty about Lob: in true fairy-tale form, he simply exists, and his story parallels Lucy’s – his thoughts being given in large type and simple words, scattered throughout the book’s chapters. Lob ends up following Lucy to the city, “a mad, noisy place, full of rush and hurry.” He is seen by other sensitive people and eventually finds a comfortable place to be – but it is only after a full year of separation that Lob and Lucy end up together again, more or less. Newbery tells this gentle story with warmth and affection, and if it is a little obvious and its plot a bit draggy, that is only because Newbery is more concerned with magic in what seems to be everyday life than she is with rapid pacing or adventure.

     The Warriors books, on the other hand, are all about adventure. Erin Hunter’s stories of competing cat civilizations are always intense and dramatic, although at this point there are so many series that the effectiveness of any individual book is somewhat diluted. Night Whispers is the third volume in the Omen of the Stars sequence, following The Fourth Apprentice and Fading Echoes and preceding Sign of the Moon, which is forthcoming. Night Whispers is about the aftermath of a battle between two of the four major cat groups, ThunderClan and ShadowClan. ThunderClan’s medicine cat, Jayfeather, and the warrior Lionblaze are determined to find out why the battle occurred so they can prevent further evil from marring the clans’ lives. Dovepaw, a female warrior in training, joins the two male cats in their attempt to forestall future battles, using her own special powers – whose limitations she is just learning. Hunter uses lots of characters, and is careful to provide each with a brief introduction before the book starts – also showing maps of the cats’ camps and the geography of the area where they live in an uneasy truce. These guideposts help readers keep straight what is going on and where things are happening. But the fairy-tale elements must be taken at face value – not only the entire foundation of Warriors, about cats’ intelligence and forging of civilizations, but also the cryptic warnings that Hunter scatters throughout the books. One example from this one: “‘When the Dark Forest rises, ThunderClan must face its greatest enemy alone.’” The cats’ enemies are ones that, in the real world, might indeed be threats to felines – foxes and badgers, for example – but here their malevolence is planned and orchestrated, making them more deadly than in the real natural world. On the fringes of the cats’ realm are humans (“twolegs”), but they have little to do with the story. Instead, human perceptions are given to the cats: “Ivypaw chewed on her mouse, a little surprised to see that the ShadowClan camp worked just like ThunderClan’s. What did you expect? Mice and squirrels doing the work for them?” This book is a buildup to the coming “final battle” (although there is never really a final battle in Warriors); thus, the novel is less significant in itself than as a way station along the road to something larger.

     While Newbery and Hunter make their own fairy tales, the storytellers at Walt Disney Co. specialize in giving existing fairy tales new twists. Tangled, based on the Grimm story of Rapunzel, is more twisted than most. The original tale is one of the darkest and most overtly sexual in the entire Grimm collection, dealing with pregnancy (including, in some versions, Rapunzel’s), the vicious blinding of Rapunzel’s would-be rescuer, and a lengthy, painful exile and separation. The story is older than the Grimms’ 1812 collection: the earliest published version, known as “Persinette,” dates to 1698, but the original tale is hundreds of years older and appears to have been Persian. In any case, the story has been repeatedly modified, with the Grimm brothers themselves changing it between editions to make it more suitable for children, so the squeaky-clean Disney adaptation at least has history on its side. It is not much like the fairy tale, though, except of course for Rapunzel’s gleaming, golden, never-cut hair. Rapunzel is self-assured, or at least becomes self-assured as the story progresses, as today’s Disney females usually do; she herself turns out to be a princess; instead of a prince, there is a Robin Hood type named Flynn Rider, whom Rapunzel ties up with her hair when she thinks him a threat; since Flynn cannot really be a bad guy, he has two accomplices who are: the Stabbington brothers; and the witch, Mother Gothel, who is still evil and must eventually be destroyed, here has good reason for keeping Rapunzel trapped and her hair uncut, since the girl and hair keep the witch forever young. (The name “Rapunzel” means rampion, a root vegetable often thought to be craved by pregnant women; but there is none of this in the Disney story.) Preteens interested in the Disney version of this tale can read a “junior novelization,” which tells the whole story and includes eight pages of stills from the animation. For younger kids, A Dazzling Day tells most of the story in very compressed form, ending with Rapunzel and Flynn in a boat, gazingly lovingly at each other in a scene that looks exactly like one from Disney’s The Little Mermaid. And for still-younger children, Outside My Window is a “Step 2” book (“reading with help”) in the “Step into Reading” series, giving preschoolers and kindergartners the basic story in large type and super-simplified form. In all these guises, Disney’s Tangled shows itself cute and amusing rather than Grimm – but a much-modernized version of a traditional fairy tale nevertheless.

(+++) SHOP BUT DON’T DROP

How to Shop for Free: Shopping Secrets for Smart Women Who Love to Get Something for Nothing. By Kathy Spencer with Samantha Rose. Da Capo. $14.95.

     Recession or recovery, apparently only women are really concerned about deep discounts and really savvy about getting them. That is one underlying premise of this book, in which mother-of-four Kathy Spencer tells of getting $267.22 of groceries for a single penny, and TV writer Samantha Rose helps put together a series of ideas to make it possible for other women to shop just as well. The current holiday-shopping season is traditionally one of wretched excess – less so, thankfully, in the poor economic climate of the last few years – but this is not really a book about making do with less or promoting recycling (the free listings on Craigslist get a single brief mention, while the nonprofit Freecycle group gets only a bit more discussion “if you’re into the conservation thing”).

     No, How to Shop for Free is devoted to the idea that women (not men?) can continue to buy pretty much what they wish, but get everything for a lot less money or even for free. Some of the authors’ ideas require thinking in a particular way – for example, agreeing to try out new products and spread the word about them (a form of viral marketing) in order to get the products for nothing. “Does this make you cringe? …[But] some information about your shopping habits has already been tracked. …Retailers are just using the information they gather about you to give you more of what you want.” If you buy into this viewpoint (“buy into,” get it?), you can then explore Web sites and groups to which Spencer and Rose direct you – where you can get more information and find out about participating in marketing programs.

     This and many other ideas in the book can be traced to Spencer’s Web site, www.howtoshopforfree.net. Both site and book do have some perfectly good, if straightforward, recommendations. For instance, make a list of non-perishables you replace often, guess how many bags, cans or jars you will need for the next six to 12 months, and stockpile the items when big sales occur – using manufacturers’ coupons when you buy to bring the sale price even lower. Or: find out a store’s policies on doubling or tripling coupons, accepting competitors’ coupons, accepting expired coupons and being willing to take coupons printed from Web sites – and try to shop at stores that make the use of coupons easier while making the coupons themselves more valuable. Spencer and Rose suggest shoppers start small: “Pick one or two [savings tricks], like working a BOGO [buy one, get one free] deal or doubling a coupon, and play around with them until you’re comfortable.” Then, with experience, you can try more-advanced techniques. For example, bid on coupons on eBay; buy multiple copies of the Sunday paper if an insert has coupons you will use and that are worth more than the cost of the paper itself; learn the intricacies of Catalina (CAT) deals, in which you buy a certain number of items and get a certain amount of money back – you can actually get paid to shop if you handle these deals correctly.

     There is a lot of advice here on what to do, and some on what not to do, such as clearing an entire shelf: “Feel free to take a lot, but don’t take it all. (Unless it’s on clearance. In that case, feel free to ho it up.)” There is plenty of solid information here and a certain amount of silliness, which is actually a positive thing, as if the authors take their money-saving strategies seriously but not too seriously. Spencer is a little too full of herself at times (“my killer two-for-one shopping strategy”), but she and Rose have certainly done a lot of research, and their highly specific information on loyalty programs, coupon Web sites, manufacturers’ sites and discount plans, prescription-drug savings and more, will be very useful to people (including men) who are trying to make their money go further. The chatty tone of the book will appeal to some readers, but may seem rather breathless and overdone to others. How to Shop for Free really does provide examples of getting items for free, or even being paid to take them away. However, even with the book’s passing mentions of healthful eating, some readers may question the types of items that seem to produce the best deals. For example, Spencer discusses the time she managed to get such a huge number of free cans of Pringles that she gave a full can to every child who came to her house that year for Halloween. That’s great shopping, but scarcely great nutrition.

(++++) STRIKING SYMPHONIES

Shostakovich: Symphony No. 10. Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Vasily Petrenko. Naxos. $8.99.

Schmidt: Symphony No. 4; Variations on a Hussar’s Song. Malmö Symphony Orchestra conducted by Vassily Sinaisky. Naxos. $8.99.

Dvořák: Symphony No. 6; Nocturne; Scherzo Capriccioso. Baltimore Symphony Orchestra conducted by Marin Alsop. Naxos. $8.99.

     Vasily Petrenko’s latest entry in his Shostakovich cycle for Naxos is at the same high level as his previous ones of Nos. 5 and 9, No. 8 and No. 11 – which is to say a very high level indeed. Petrenko has managed to turn the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic into, if not exactly a deep-throated Russian ensemble, an orchestra that thoroughly understands Shostakovich’s music and performs it with depth, grandeur and appreciation. Symphony No. 10, written in 1953, is a complex and difficult work, filled with personal elements (including the very prominent D-S-C-H motto representing the composer’s initials) but also clearly striving to depict societal concerns in the Soviet Union after the death of Stalin – and doing so in such a way as to avoid having the composer again run afoul of the censors and apparatchiks (who did not know quite what to make of this symphony). The huge first movement is not so much dark as bleak, having a little of the flavor of Sibelius’ Symphony No. 4 even though constructed on entirely different principles and a different scale. The thoughtfulness of some themes is contrasted with the deliberate dullness of others, and when it seems there will be some rhythmic uplift, as in a waltz-like treatment of the second theme, the composer quickly snuffs any sense of bounce or joviality. Petrenko paces this movement broadly, bringing out its internal contrasts – and contradictions – to very fine effect. Then he throws everything at the second movement, which is one of Shostakovich’s shortest at barely four minutes but also one of the composer’s most intense – violent, explosive, dramatic and very tense. And then come the third and fourth movements, in both of which the D-S-C-H motto is featured and in one of which (the fourth) it is played against the notes E-A-E-D-A, representing a pianist with whom Shostakovich had an intense correspondence during the symphony’s composition. The exact personal meanings of the uses of these mottos are impossible to fathom and, in truth, unnecessary to know, since Petrenko makes the symphony work so well on a purely musical level – quite independently of any personal subtext. The changing rhythms and tempos, the orchestration that ranges from oboe and bassoon solos to clattering percussion that requires three players, the themes that emerge and combine, conflict and subside, and then emerge again – Petrenko pays attention to all these elements, and the orchestra explores them with style and sensitivity, producing a highly impressive reading of a work whose depths remain difficult, if not impossible, to plumb.

     The emotions of Franz Schmidt’s Symphony No. 4 are more on the surface but no less intense. This is Schmidt’s most personal and most anguished symphony, written in 1933 as a requiem for his daughter, Emma, who died in childbirth the year before. Schmidt was a careful and controlled composer, more comfortable crafting finely honed works that did not delve too deeply into emotions than in creating intensely heartfelt ones. In this symphony, there is less of the anguish that the composer must have felt than there would be in a work by a composer more comfortable wearing his heart on his proverbial sleeve – Rachmaninoff, say. The symphony is nevertheless an impressive work that has more genuine depth of feeling than Schmidt’s other three. The second movement, in particular, begins with a solo cello and continues with muffled, funereal drums, producing an impression of genuine sorrow and mourning. Vassily Sinaisky and the Malmö Symphony Orchestra play the work as effectively as they played Schmidt’s other symphonies on earlier Naxos releases, making it as passionate and emotive as Schmidt was capable of being. And the symphony’s darkness – which emerges despite its nominal key of C Major – is well contrasted with Variations on a Hussar’s Song, a very well-structured work that shows Schmidt in more comfortable territory both because it is less overtly emotional and because the composer was a master of the variation form. Written in 1930 and lasting nearly half an hour, this piece features an elaborate structure that includes a fugato and elements that have the sound of a scherzo, a fantasy and some straightforward thematic repetitions. It is skillfully orchestrated and well-wrought throughout, making no attempt at profundity and needing none to come across effectively.

     The effectiveness of Dvořák’s Symphony No. 6 is of another, and higher, order, but unfortunately not in the new recording by Marin Alsop and the Baltimore Symphony. Alsop and her orchestra have already turned in respectable but not very idiomatic or particularly perceptive recordings of Dvořák’s Symphonies Nos. 7, 8 and 9 for Naxos, and are well on their way to producing a complete cycle of the composer’s symphonies. That being so, it is a shame that Alsop has not paid more attention to Dvořák’s unique melodic gifts and the warmth and flow that make his works stand out when they are well played. The first three movements of this live performance are straightforward; there is nothing special in them, and the third-movement furiant lacks any particular Czech character. The finale is something of a mess, opening with a rhythm so flabby that it seems Alsop was not quite sure how she wanted the movement to go – an impression compounded as she speeds it up, then slows it down, before finally settling into a moderate tempo that fits the overall mediocrity of the interpretation. The Baltimore Symphony plays gamely throughout – this is a very fine orchestra and an under-appreciated one – but Alsop is simply out of her depth in Dvořák’s music, or perhaps not very interested in it (but then why do a cycle of his symphonies?). The CD gets a (+++) rating, which is slightly on the generous side, in part because the filler items are well handled. The Nocturne (a string-orchestra arrangement of a movement from the composer’s String Quartet No. 4) is the high point of the disc: the Baltimore Symphony’s strings glow with warmth, and Alsop lets the music unfold naturally. It is the orchestra’s brass that is at its best in the Scherzo Capriccioso, which sounds very fine in its faster sections – but which drags in slower parts, because Alsop takes them so slowly that any sense of forward motion nearly disappears. Alsop is well thought of in modern, American and modern American music, but this CD is further evidence that she is simply not very comfortable in conducting more-standard repertoire and, in particular, brings nothing new to Romantic works.

(++++) PLEASURES LESS OFTEN HEARD

Saint-Saëns: Violin Concertos Nos. 1-3. Fanny Clamagirand, violin; Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä conducted by Patrick Gallois. Naxos. $8.99.

Haydn: Symphonies Nos. 53 and 63, with alternative movements. Chamber Philharmonic of Bohemia conducted by Douglas Bostock. Scandinavian Classics. $7.99.

     It can be particularly enjoyable to hear fine music by well-known composers when the music is outside the mainstream of their works – neglected for any one of a number of reasons. It is hard to say exactly why the three violin concertos by Camille Saint-Saëns are infrequently performed or recorded; perhaps simply because they are not at the level of the concertos of Beethoven, Brahms or Tchaikovsky or Bruch’s Concerto No. 1. But the Saint-Saëns concertos are attractive in their very lack of grandiosity, their focus on providing pleasure to listeners rather than seeking always to storm the heights and move in new directions. Fanny Clamagirand plays the concertos splendidly and without condescension – she leans into their beauties, expresses their emotions effectively and delivers thoroughly winning performances of all three. And Patrick Gallois provides a fine accompaniment with the Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä, allowing the soloist plenty of time in the foreground but complementing her very effectively when the composer wishes. There are rarely heard beauties throughout this fine CD. Concerto No. 1 (actually written second) is a compressed single-movement work, written for the young Sarasate, in which the soloist enters strongly at the beginning and remains prominent from start to finish. Concerto No. 2 (the first written) is the longest and most elaborate of the three; it is full of drama and virtuosity, with an expressive but not-too-slow second movement that is wonderfully balanced by an elegantly constructed and very effective final rondo. And Concerto No. 3 – dedicated to an older Sarasate, who at first did not think much of it – has particularly well-done contrasts between soloist and orchestra, plus a slow movement of pleasant gentleness and a finale that flows with warmth and lyricism from start to finish. There may be no “great” music here, but Saint-Saëns clearly knew how to write effectively for the violin, and this is music that pleases and entices the ear and – in Clamagirand’s performance – offers plenty of style and beauty.

     In the case of Haydn, it is still surprising to realize that this preeminent Classical symphonist is still known to most listeners for only a handful of his 106 symphonies (104 with numbers and two called A and B). A very few of Haydn’s earlier symphonies will occasionally be heard, such as Nos. 6, 7 and 8, the “Morning, Noon and Night” trilogy that contains some of the most difficult solo music Haydn ever wrote, or No. 31, the “Hornsignal.” It is tempting to think that the early symphonies that do get played enjoy some level of popularity because they have fanciful titles, whether given by Haydn or others. But if this were so, symphonies such as No. 53, “L’Imperiale,” and No. 63, “La Roxelane,” would be performed more often than they in fact are. In reality, these two works are rarely played – and the way they should be played is not even certain. For these are among the works that Haydn pushed and pulled this way and that, depending on his needs for the symphonies themselves and for the theater music from which elements of these pieces are drawn. There are no fewer than four different finales for “L’Imperiale,” and “La Roxelane” has two different menuets and two different finales. What is therefore particularly pleasurable about the well-played, well-paced new recording of these symphonies by Douglas Bostock and the Chamber Philharmonic of Bohemia is that the CD includes all the variants – seven movements in all for No. 53 and six for No. 63. The fact is that there is no “right” way to play either of these symphonies, and not much of a “preferred” way, either. And all the movements fit the mood and structure of the symphonies quite well – Haydn was, after all, a supreme master of symphonic form, and even when he did not make changes for the better, he made ones equal to whatever he had constructed before. This CD is something of a curiosity (and, curiously, appears on the Scandinavian Classics label, although there is nothing the slightest bit Scandinavian about the music or the performers); but it is a most pleasant curiosity, and any Haydn lover who is curious about the many ways the composer used, reused and changed his music over time will find it fascinating to hear.

(++++) CHARACTERS

Fancy Nancy and the Fabulous Fashion Boutique. By Jane O’Connor. Illustrated by Robin Preiss Glasser. Harper. $17.99.

Big Nate Strikes Again. By Lincoln Peirce. Harper. $12.99.

Justin Bieber—First Step 2 Forever: My Story. Photos by Robert Caplin. Harper. $21.99.

     Plot? Why? In some books – for many different age groups – the fun is in spending time with the characters. What those characters are doing is secondary. The Fancy Nancy books are a perfect example. It does not much matter what Jane O’Connor’s delightful character – endearingly drawn by Robin Preiss Glasser – is up to. All the books involve Fancy Nancy simply being herself, which means she is spectacularly overdressed (but in an adorable way that she always manages to carry off); that she likes to use big words and French words and then explain them to her readers (girls ages 4-7); and that whatever problems she runs into will be mild, and the solutions will guarantee a happy ending. The whole series is, on the level of plot, entirely formulaic, but it is so laden with charm (and lots of glitter on the book covers) that its easy-to-figure-out plots don’t matter at all. Fancy Nancy and the Fabulous Fashion Boutique gives FN (always prancing, usually on tiptoes) a chance to show herself as a wonderful big sister to JoJo, who is about to have a birthday. First she sensitively picks out a pirate-oriented gift, since that is what JoJo wants. Then, seeking to make money to buy something for herself – a fancy fan – FN creates her own boutique (“that’s French for fancy store”). She sells dress-up things that she no longer wants to her friends – but runs into an unexpected problem when JoJo decides that she wants a particular necklace that FN has already agreed to sell. So FN manages to buy it back, include it as a birthday gift with the pirate gear, and get her fancy fan after all as a “big sister gift” from her parents. It is all so warmhearted and adorable that it could easily be overly sweet, but Fancy Nancy and the Fabulous Fashion Boutique is saved from that fate by the sheer delightfulness of the title character’s poses (she is always posing) and the enthusiasm with which FN does everything. Fancy Nancy is simply one of the most adorable characters anywhere, no matter what she happens to be doing.

     It would be a stretch to call sixth-grader Big Nate adorable, but he too is a character who is…well, a real character. Lincoln Peirce’s comic strip is nicely complemented by the Big Nate sort-of-graphic-novels that he is now producing. What Nate will do, in newspapers and books alike, is pretty clear: rush into things headlong with supreme and unjustified self-confidence, make all sorts of messes (literal and figurative), and come out just fine in the end. The fun is in watching all that happen. And “watching” is the operative word here. Big Nate Strikes Again is not exactly a graphic novel, since it contains illustrated text as well as sections told entirely in comic-strip form. But it is the drawings, sometimes of Nate’s exploits and sometimes drawn “by” Nate himself, that keep the story moving and make it so much fun for boys of more or less Nate’s age (the target age range is 8-12). The books allow Peirce to rummage through multiple plot lines in a set space and tie everything into a neat package at the end. In Big Nate Strikes Again, we start with a bulletin board of baby pictures on which Nate is sure he can identify the photo of his crush, Jenny – only to find out that it is a picture of his enemy, super-smart and super-dedicated Gina. By the end of the book, Nate has saved Gina’s perfect grade-point average and Gina has saved Nate’s team in a sports event called “fleeceball” that means a lot to Nate and nothing to Gina herself. Between beginning and end are encounters with all the usual suspects in Nate’s world: science teacher Mr. Galvin, the Coach, Nate’s father and sister, the lucky and always-liked Artur (whom Nate isn’t sure he can stand even though he does sort of like him), and many more. School bully Randy is here, too, and librarian Mrs. Hickson, and Principal Nichols, and of course Nate’s teacher nemesis, Mrs. Godfrey – whose assignment of a report on Benjamin Franklin is the major plot mover, since Nate and Gina end up as unwilling partners. The book is filled with clever lists and drawings “by” Nate (“approved school yard activities,” “worst potential project partners,” “the no-snack zone” of unappetizing food that Nate’s dad keeps in the house, and so on). And the plot twists and turns are clever, too. It’s just plain fun to spend time with Nate, whatever he is doing.

     Justin Bieber fans will surely swoon unceasingly over the ghostwritten, nicely photographed “autobiography” of the 16-year-old Canadian singer who was discovered all of two years ago and, in an age when even 15 minutes of fame seems like a lot, has apparently now taken his First Step 2 Forever. This is one of those books that it is impossible to rate on a scale of (+) to (++++), because fans will give it (++++++) and non-fans will give it zero. Certainly it is the most crassly commercial attempt imaginable to cash in on a young star’s career while it is still new; and certainly Bieber’s fans won’t care in the least, because the book is packed with photos and anecdotes and carefully chosen behind-the-scenes information and homey comments such as, “Mom and I boarded our first ever airplane flight in the fall of 2007.” There is an inherent absurdity in creating a biography of someone who is not, by any stretch of the imagination, even an adult yet; but in an age of instantaneous stardom, instantaneous transmission of music and information and videos worldwide, and instant opinions (which must be right!), there is nothing really surprising about the creation of something seemingly permanent about an entertainer whose eventual steps anywhere in the direction of “forever” must charitably be described as very, very small indeed. This Justin Bieber sort-of biography – wrapped in, quite unsurprisingly, a poster of Bieber, suitable for framing, oohing and aahing – makes complete sense in our modern media age. It is even marked “100% Official” right on the cover!!! Fans had better get it quickly, before the entertainment world – and the fans themselves – move on to someone else who is taking a whole different set of steps “2 forever.”

(++++) MYTHS OF OLD TIMES AND NEW

The Golden Fleece and the Heroes Who Lived Before Achilles. By Padraic Colum. Illustrated by Willy Pogány. Random House. $10.99.

The Phoenix and the Carpet. By E. Nesbit. Illustrated by H.R. Millar. Random House. $10.99.

Century Quartet, Book II: Star of Stone. By P.D. Baccalario. Translated by Leah D. Janeczko. Random House. $16.99.

     The great myths persist because they are, above all, great stories – so good that they provide fodder for many reinterpretations and recastings over centuries and even millennia. The Greek myths remain among the most popular of all, and poet Padraic Colum’s 1921 collection remains one of the best modern retellings. It is, of course, “modern” only by comparison with those from the 19^th century and before: the language, which flows beautifully, may seem somewhat old-fashioned to modern young readers who are used to punchier prose. But because the subject matter is ancient, sensitive readers will be carried along in the tales all the more effectively because of the slightly out-of-favor elegance of Colum’s writing – and the beautifully designed but quite stylized illustrations by Willy Pogány, which appeared in the original publication. The stories are told with a delicacy that is foreign to newer tales for young readers – for example, the many violent elements of the tales are told blandly and quickly, not detailed or dwelled on; and all women who are not wives are “friends,” resulting in a complete absence of sexuality in the adventures. This toning-down is not true to the original myths but is certainly in keeping with what was deemed appropriate for youthful readers nearly a century ago. Yet the book – part of the “Looking Glass Library” series of attractive small-size hardcovers – is quite wonderful on its own terms. The story of Jason and the Argonauts is interwoven with tales of individual heroes’ exploits before and after the quest, including a variety of events that even adults may not recall from their readings of mythology. The interconnectedness of many of the stories is completely in keeping with Greek myth, but the unity will be surprising to those used to thinking of the heroic tales as discrete. The book opens and closes with Jason, ending in a version of the tragedy of his relationship with Medea and his later life. But there is so much else here. The tale of Achilles’ parents, Peleus and Thetis, makes much of Peleus’ capture of his sea-goddess wife and the unrelenting enmity of ocean dwellers to Peleus thereafter – and the famous scene of Thetis dipping Achilles in the river to make him invulnerable is nowhere to be found: here, Thetis holds him in a fire instead (as the goddess Demeter does for another baby in another part of the book). The story of Heracles is of a deeply flawed hero, not simply a man of gigantic strength: he not only goes mad and does murder, requiring him to undertake his famous labors, but also repeatedly feels great anger and perhaps madness rising in him as his life goes on; yet there is rough humor in him, too, and he releases two thieves after they tell him the Aesopian tale of a war between mice and frogs. Less-known heroes get their due here, too, such as “Zetes and Calais, the sons of the North Wind,” who conquer the Harpies during the Argonauts’ quest. The Golden Fleece and the Heroes Who Lived Before Achilles is exciting and often fascinating, a wonderful introduction or reintroduction to some of the world’s greatest stories.

     E. Nesbit’s mythmaking is more recent – she lived from 1858 to 1924 – but has its own resonance that sets it above much other work for young readers. The Phoenix and the Carpet dates to 1904, 17 years before Colum’s book of Greek myths, and its language too will require some adjustment by 21^st-century readers picking up the new “Looking Glass Library” edition. But, again, a bit of adjustment is well worthwhile. Nesbit essentially invented the modern adventure story for children, giving a veneer of reality to the fantastic happenings in her books – and becoming an important influence on C.S. Lewis, among others. The Phoenix and the Carpet is the second book of a loosely connected trilogy that begins with Five Children and It and concludes with The Story of the Amulet. The “It” of the first book, a wish-granting but grumpy sand fairy called the Psammead, has very little to do with The Phoenix and the Carpet, which stands quite well on its own. The five children introduced in the earlier book – Cyril, Anthea, Robert, Jane and the Lamb (as baby brother Hilary is always called) – get a new carpet here, to replace one from the nursery that is destroyed in an accidental fire. The children find an egg in the carpet; the egg hatches into a talking Phoenix; and the Phoenix tells them that the carpet is magical and will grant them three wishes per day. So the kids are off to find treasure; visit India, France and Persia; meet a kind burglar and arrange for him to marry a friendly cook; and a great deal more. The underlying unreality of the wish-fulfilling carpet and talking Phoenix coexists effectively with realistic depictions of Edwardian London, including a climactic scene that takes place during a Christmas pantomime at a West End theater. Those “reality” elements will likely seem more like fantasy to 21^st-century readers, but even if the book is read entirely as make-believe, it is well paced, interestingly written and filled with touches that humanize and differentiate the five children at its core.

     Heirs of Nesbit have tended to pay less attention to characterization and more to plot pacing, and even well-done modern fantasies – such as the Century Quartet by Italian author P.D. (Pierdomenico) Baccalario – focus more on mystery and intricacy than on characterization. Star of Stone, like the tetralogy’s first book, Ring of Fire, gets a (+++) rating for this very reason, although it has to be said that Baccalario’s labyrinthine plotting will thoroughly engage today’s young readers in a way that the more diffuse and episodic story lines of earlier authors may not. Like the previous book, set in Rome, the second one, set in New York, requires four 12-year-olds (all of whom were born on February 29) to search for an ancient object of power connected to one of the “four elements” (air, earth, fire and water). Elettra, from Rome, was crucial to the first search; Harvey, from New York, is central in Star of Stone; and the two remaining books will feature Mistral (from Paris) and Sheng (from Shanghai). Actually, all four youths work together to evade the inevitable bad guys trying to thwart them for various nefarious reasons (since the kids’ discovery of the four objects will help them save the world, and their failure to do so will presumably end it, the evildoers must be nefarious indeed). In New York, four postcards written in code send the four young people through mysterious and abandoned locations around New York in their search for the earth-connected object of the book's title, always trying to stay a step or two ahead of the baddies. A clever element in this tetralogy is the inclusion in each book of a bound-in color section of clues that readers can follow and try to interpret as they read the story. The narrative prose tends to be somewhat overwrought in Leah D. Janeczko’s translation, and presumably in the original, although the dialogue is simplistic. The interruption of the plot’s progress for three short interludes labeled staisima (a stasimon was a choral ode within Greek plays) ties the Century Quartet neatly to the days of ancient Greece without, however, producing any particular resonance. A well-crafted modern fantasy adventure that will certainly please mystery fans, Star of Stone and the four-book series to which it belongs are very much of modern times both in strengths and in weaknesses.

(++++) VISUAL IMPACT

Children of the Great Depression. By Russell Freedman. Sandpiper. $10.99.

The Good Neighbors, Book Three: Kind. By Holly Black & Ted Naifeh. Graphix/Scholastic. $16.99.

The 39 Clues: The Black Book of Buried Secrets. By Mallory Kass. Designed by Keirsten Geise and Charice Silverman. Scholastic. $12.99.

Doodle Wire. By the Editors of Klutz. Klutz. $14.99.

     Sometimes it is the visual impact of a book, not its narrative, that makes the greatest impression on readers – whether the book is fiction or nonfiction. Certainly it is the haunting photos in Russell Freedman’s Children of the Great Depression that will stay with readers long after the informative but straightforward text has faded from memory. These black-and-white pictures of a far darker and more dismal economic time than the United States currently faces tell the tale of poverty and hopelessness with greater impact than any words. The shacks and shanties of makeshift towns called Hoovervilles…the high-school girls waiting for a truck to take them to the fields so they can earn a little money picking peas…the young girl hoisting a box of just-picked cranberries on her shoulder…the sharecropper’s son straining to push a plow through hard Missouri soil…the men and boys helping others aboard freight cars to catch a ride to somewhere where perhaps there will be work…the boys looking with fascination at the stills posted outside a movie house, where a 10-cent admission bought access to two full-length movies, a cartoon, a newsreel, a serial and a humorous short subject…the long line of evicted sharecroppers along a road, standing beside their meager possessions – the book leaves an indelible impression of the hardships that children and their families endured until the nation’s gearing up for World War II finally brought the Great Depression to an end. Freedman’s selection of photos from multiple sources is exemplary, and his text – although lacking the impact of the pictures – does an excellent job of explaining the economic collapse in terms that young readers can understand, and of giving impressions of that difficult time through many first-hand accounts by boys and girls who lived through it. Children of the Great Depression is a difficult book to get through; it is more a matter of enduring it than anything else. But it is a breeze compared to what children of that time had to endure in their lives.

     The visuals in the final graphic novel of The Good Neighbors trilogy are also the work’s main attraction; the story is rather weak and predictable, so Kind gets a (+++) rating. But the pictures are quite well done. The story, begun in Kin and continued in Kith, focuses on Rue, a half-human, half-faery caught between the two worlds – which are ones of suspicion and enmity, the faeries long being called “good neighbors” only because humans hoped that description would keep things peaceful between the realms. At the end of the second book, the faeries took over the city where Rue lives and cut it off from the outside world, and Rue was dealing with the uncertain relationship between her faerie mother and human father – and with her own conflicted feelings about two different boys. It is obvious that it will fall to Rue, the product of two worlds, to find a way of allowing them to coexist or to separate peacefully; and that is exactly what happens. “The only thing I’ve learned recently is that people never get the things they want,” says Rue at one point – but by the end of Kind, Rue, the humans and the faeries have at least gotten some things they want. More importantly from a reader’s perspective, the black-and-white illustrations in the graphic novel are exceptionally well done. Whether in spectacular scenes (an entire city overgrown with gigantic plants) or intimate ones (Rue and a boy, their faces so shadowed that they cannot be seen, standing facing each other, their body language keeping them apart), the pictures are atmospheric and impressive. One of the best, covering two pages, shows faeries to the left, humans to the right, and makes their similar but very different anatomies very clear indeed – underlining the differences in their ways of thinking. Kind is a visual treat, even though its narrative is not at the same level as its pictorial presentation.

     The Black Book of Buried Secrets, which supplements the 10-volume series, The 39 Clues, moves the sequence toward what is likely to be a future series in which the Cahill clans must confront the Vespers, who are supposedly even more dangerous and devious than the Cahills themselves. The name of Rick Riordan, who created the story and wrote the first book, appears prominently on the new book’s cover, but he contributes only the introduction – and the words are not the main interest here, anyway. The book gives details on the five branches of Cahills – Ekaterina, Janus, Lucian, Tomas and Madrigal – and is filled with pictures of supposed members of the different groups, including both invented personages and historical figures alleged to have belonged to one or another Cahill branch (Napoleon: Lucian; Lawrence of Arabia: Ekaterina; George Washington: Tomas; and so on). There are pictures of “strongholds” of the various Cahills and information on clue hiding places (Tower of London, Loch Ness, Victoria Falls); there are brief “snapshot” stories about occurrences in each branch; and there are pictures of weapons and other objects associated with each part of the far-flung Cahill clan (everything from a poison-containing ring to a French horn). Clearly designed to whet the appetite of fans of The 39 Clues for further adventures yet to come, this (+++) book requires familiarity with the main story to make any sense at all. For the many fans of the multimedia world of The 39 Clues, it is a visual treat and a chance to pull together some pseudo-historical threads of the series while getting ready for the next adventures that 14-year-old Amy and 11-year-old Dan will surely be having.

     Sometimes visuals are so striking that they pop right out of the book and into a reader’s hands. In fact, with Klutz books, that’s the whole idea. Take Doodle Wire, for example. This (++++) book proudly proclaims that you can “bend steel with your bare hands” (a line from an old “Superman” TV show, for anyone who didn’t get it), and comes with six curlicues of plastic-wrapped steel wire that you simply bend into shapes, straighten, bend into other shapes, straighten, bend into still other shapes, and so on until you outgrow the whole thing (which Klutz suggests will occur at around age 103). The book part of Doodle Wire gives a series of largely unnecessary but very colorfully illustrated instructions (showing the difference between a big loop and little loop, for example), then presents step-by-step information on creating a balloon, fish, daisy, magic wand, rose, caterpillar, and so on, in increasing levels of difficulty (not that any of this is really hard, at least until you get to two-wire creations such as a bird and a dog, and ones using multiple wires, such as the “doodlepus,” which is “two legs short of an octopus”). There is no particular reason to make any of the specific wire sculptures shown in the book, but they certainly give your hands a great workout and a great feel (so to speak) for bending, crimping and otherwise manipulating the wires into all sorts of interesting shapes. Then, of course, you can follow your own inspiration – visualizing what you want to make and creating your own three-dimensional wire visuals. Here’s looking at you!