Michael S. Sanders

I bought this book because every time I pass through Bath the shipyard takes up an enormous portion of the view. It is a slice of working industrial history. The location is miles from the ocean and reminds me of a slightly more realistic version of Meyer Werft's shipbuilding yard in Papenberg, Germany (seriously, look up what those cruise ships have to navigate to reach the ocean).

My goal was to know more about shipbuilding in Bath - technical details, history, slice of life details. That's show more certainly in the book - but you'll also find that the book spends an incredible number of pages on Naval culture, shake-down cruises, the glory of sea battle, and the details of ship-board command structure. Out of eleven chapters, four were completely about the Navy, not Bath and BIW. Maybe that's the author's cost of getting access, like a sick montage of fighter jets and destroyers cutting through waves that producers include in movies in exchange for access to military equipment for filming. The narrative is crafted around the launch of one particular Navy ship with some side-trips down the memory of various interview subjects. I'm not sure this narrative device paid off - we really don't learn much about the Donald Cook's beyond it's made of steel, it has new weaponry, and it is a warship. Once it launches off the ways, we don't learn anything about it until it's ready for sea trials.

At the end the author states, "I have omitted large amounts of technical detail and sketched briefly where others may have lingered...to keep the narrative interesting." I don't think there was an issue with too much or too little lingering in the book, just a misstatement of the books subject. If it had been called "How the Navy Buys a Destroyer" I would be less disappointed (and I wouldn't have read the book). However, the chapters that deal with BIW are well worth a read and it would be neat if the author revisited the facility given they've moved away from using angled ways and have a couple new assembly buildings that have been operational for a while now. show less

Works like these comprise the best sort of armchair tourism. I'm heading to Southwest France this autumn, and this book has really whetted my appetite for the trip. Much more than just a description of what it's like to run a restaurant in a small French village, this book's eclectic chapters cover a wide range of subjects related to French rural and cultural life. The author knits everything together quite skillfully, however, and the result was really delightful as well as informative.

A fine example of armchair travel. Not only could I virtually feel the baking heat of a long summer in the vineyards of the Lot, but I also learned a huge amount about the wines of the Cahors appellation, as well as traditional, small-scale methods of French viniculture. Now if only the author had done a similar book for the wines of Bordeaux, I'd be all set for my trip to Southwest France this fall.

Great read about three wine-making families in the Cahors region of SW France; helped me to understand the importance of old-fashioned methods of wine-making, and the passion required to stick to them.