
Probably baby kangaroos shouldn't be called "joeys." Only an "Australian" would come up with that name.
St. George and the Godfather unleashes Norman Mailer's critical mind on the characters participating in the 1972 Democratic and Republican National Conventions. That year, the Democrats nominated South Dakota Senator George McGovern, and the Republicans took President Richard M. Nixon.

Ian Frazier, humor contributor to The New Yorker, developed a Russia fetish traveling there and, in 2010, published Travels in Siberia. This hefty travel log relays all kinds of details about Frazier's experiences with his guides, with locals, the climate, terrain, and culture. As made clear by the title, this book focuses on his times in Siberia, the massive symbol that accounts for the bulk of Russian territory (about three quarters of it). The travel-log part that makes for most of the book plodded aimlessly, and the narrative's pace stalled; the best parts relate some fascinating history lessons.
The film relies on loose eye-witness accounts from the Roosevelt's family and friends and the speculation and psychoanalysis of historical writers, such as Doris Kearns Goodwin and David McCullough, whose work sells because they dramatize history. The first episode inscribes an origin story for each future President. The narrative willingly indulges the Great Man theory, that idea that history is the result of the charisma, intelligence, and skill of the heroes and giants of the age. In the case of the Roosevelt Presidents as depicted in this documentary, both are born sickly and, merely by living, miraculously defy death. Describing baby Franklin in the arms of his mother, the narration quotes a family member who likens the pair to a Madonna with child. Rather than simply say that the family was proud of their kin, this testimony is treated as bearing some deeper insight and truth. In another segment, the narrative depicts Teddy's time in the badlands as a trial from which he emerged transformed, like Jesus returning from the desert.
In this tidy one-volume history, Pierre Goubert fairly encapsulates the social, political, and economic evolution of France, from the blurry edges of the monarchy in 987 to the present (about 1980). More fluid and narratively organized than a textbook, but too sweeping to fit neatly with most modern nonfiction historical works, The Course of French History maintains enough momentum to avoid drying out, but never approaches being a page-turner. Goubert, who has done his research, tempers and delivers his own informed judgements passively. This volume suits anyone doing independent study of French, European, or
even World History, giving you all the basics with just a taste of the details.