BookOpinion

Ready for consumption like a mocha frappuccino, “Starbucked: A Double Tall Tale of Caffeine, Commerce, and Culture” by Taylor Clark hit bookstores this past week. BookOpinion has compiled reviews from several media outlets.

Clark, a Portland-based journalist, has felt this topic brewing (last pun from us, we promise) since the Starbucks chain opened three branches in his small Oregon hometown. Hundreds of interviews and countless hours later, “Starbucked” was crafted into a “witty and often biting book,” according to the New York Post.

Publishers Weekly summarizes the book: “His coverage begins with a Seattle trio who set out to emulate the high-quality coffee of the California-based Peet’s chain, before Howard Schultz took over the company and laid plans for its massive expansion. While Clark grudgingly admires Starbucks’ ability to repackage coffee as beverage entertainment for a hyperprosperous society in search of emotional soothing, there’s a lot he doesn’t like about the company. He’s convinced that Starbucks diminishes the world’s diversity by ruthlessly outmaneuvering local competition on a global scale, and dubs the baristas’ work as a textbook McJob. Even the quality of the coffee, he says, has gone downhill.”

The San Francisco Chronicle gave the book a good review, “Entertaining, illuminating and reflective are not qualities usually associated with corporate histories. But Taylor Clark, former Willamette Week alt-weekly journalist, Dartmouth College graduate and Portland resident, has written a story about one business that’s all of these… Starbucked: A Double Tall Tale of Caffeine, Commerce, and Culture‘ is the eminently readable result. Clark explains that his purpose in writing the book was ‘to tell the story of how a major corporation, peddling a simple, age-old commodity, influences the daily life and culture of the world.’”

The New York Post digs into the topic further:

October 28, 2007 — In 2004, residents in Portland, Oregon, tried to firebomb a new Starbucks store that had opened in the face of intense community opposition. The Molotov cocktail bounced off the reinforced glass, burning harmlessly. Starbucks, a corporation with a worldwide reach of 13,000 stores from Seattle to Paris, Beijing to Saudi Arabia (where there are separate seats for men and women), has long fortified itself against local enemies. Despite the disgruntled neighbors in Portland, the new Starbucks stayed open.

Starting in 1971 as a storefront selling fresh-roasted gourmet coffee beans to coffee fanatics in Seattle, Starbucks has evolved into a ubiquitous player in the American cultural landscape, making us into caffeine addicts and connoisseurs of expensive coffee. In “Starbucked: A Double Tall Tale of Caffeine, Commerce and Culture,“ journalist Taylor Clark has written a rollicking account of the social phenomenon, which has become our national meeting place, filling the void left by the churches and marketplaces of the past…

…Clark has many funny asides. Using Internet map searches, he found that the farthest place from a Starbucks in America is the hamlet of Saco, Montana, which is almost 200 miles away from any of the pervasive green coffee shops. The derogatory nickname of “Charbucks” comes from the burned nature of the beans of the Starbucks dark roast. Clark briefly muses over the possibility that burned beans may encourage people to buy expensive milk-based drinks like venti lattes.

The Starbucks’ juggernaut continues unabated worldwide, with the company opening as many as six stores a day and serving 40 million customers. Starbucks penetrated the horrified British, French and Japanese markets and made new coffee drinkers in droves. Like McDonald’s, Starbucks is reaching its saturation point. The coffee giant’s prestige is evaporating. “Starbucks is just going to lose appeal as it grows,” pop-culture analyst Robert Thompson told Clark. “Anyone can get Starbucks now. There’s no exclusivity anymore. They’ve moved into volume, volume, volume.”

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The Wall Street Journal writes about how the book delves into the success of Starbucks:

A major part of the Starbucks story has to do with real estate, since the company obviously favors a kind of neighborhood saturation. “Through a combination of cunning store-placement strategy and ruthlessness with competitors,” Mr. Clark writes, “the company attempted to make it so customers couldn’t help but go to Starbucks.” One Starbucks real-estate dealmaker, who was turned down for an attractive commercial space, discovered that the refusing landlord was a doctor. She made an appointment to see him, pretending to be a patient, and repeated her pitch at his office. He caved in, and Starbucks got the space. As for what space is best, Starbucks prefers to be near dry cleaners and video stores, because they require two visits — for dropping off and picking up.

The company has been no less relentless about its image. The high prices signal not just quality but luxury, and the specialized vocabulary (”venti,” “doppio” and the like) elevates a mundane form of consumption into the realm of cosmopolitan taste. In the same vein, Mr. Schultz strives to make each Starbucks a “third place” between work and home. “We’re not in the coffee business serving people,” he likes to say, “we’re in the people business serving coffee.”
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BOOKOPINION REVIEW: Let’s assume the following scenario: you’re a fairly ordinary person, two kids, soccer mom … you volunteer for political fundraising in your spare time, live in an average neighborhood, have an average income. You live well but not opulently. And then one day, you are assaulted by the most powerful person in the world … and no one believes you, except the “bad guys”. They know you’re telling the truth and are determined no one else will ever find out.

This is the predicament that Kathleen Willey states she was in when she was accosted and assaulted by the President of the United States, Bill Clinton.

After the story was leaked by Drudge, Willey states, “I had aroused the ire of the Clinton administration and was about to bear the full force of its fury. Through their henchmen and minions, Bill and Hillary Clinton would wage nothing less than a media war to undercut my credibility and the credibility of any woman who dared tell the truth about Bill’s sexual advances. That war would reveal the chronic hypocrisy of those who advocate for women’s rights, as none of them -– not Democrats nor feminists nor Hillary Clinton, an alleged promoter of women’s rights -– would come to the aid of the women he had assaulted. It was me versus the machine and I was scared.” Thus speaks Kathleen Willey, a committed Democrat, fundraiser and White House volunteer.

She further states, “After we got caught in Bill Clinton’s trap, we were raked over the coals. All of us –- Juanita, Gennifer, Paula, Monica, me -– we have all been through a lot. We were regular women trying to get by when our paths crossed his. Through no fault of our own, we were smeared in the media, terrorized by thugs, audited by the IRS, followed by strangers, victimized by threats. Our homes were broken into and our pets were killed. And we know that Hillary and her minions were behind the terror.”

Kathleen Willey adds, “I think Bill routinely confesses his infidelities to Hillary. Certainly, he skews the stories. I doubt he admitted that he raped Juanita, assaulted me and abused probably dozens or hundreds of others. But I think he told Hillary that he’d done something with us and it’s likely he said we seduced him. I believe that, as part of their dysfunctional dynamic of addict and enabler, in their ugly, twisted cycle, he tells her some story to relieve his guilt. He screws up, he confesses, he asks forgiveness, she throws lamps, and then they make up and he gives her something –- appoints a woman to the Supreme Court, lets Hillary spearhead the grand health care debacle or campaigns for her presidency. I think it’s been like that since the beginning. To Hillary, it is tightly wound up with her political aspirations. She came out ahead. We lost. Women lost. And feminism lost.” Why would any wife, especially someone as much in the media’s eye as Hillary, behave in such a bizarre manner?

Kathleen also quotes Bernie Nussbaum who states that “he and Hillary shared the view that ‘you should do harm to your enemies…’” as well as Dave Shippers, who spent years investigating the Clintons, who states regarding Hillary, “Nothing is beneath her.” And Dick Morris summed up this insane state of affairs by saying, “If you’re going to be a sexual predator, be pro-choice.”

The first dozen pages or so of the beginning of “Target: Caught in the Crosshairs of Bill and Hillary Clinton” made me whistle in disbelief. If true, I thought, how could any woman be so naïve? We are asked to judge not just her story but her character as well as the characters of the people about whom she writes. I will say, as a political animal, I was astounded by some of the revelations she revealed. Even a hardened truth seeker will tend to be disbelieving of some of the volatile and wholly unacceptable traits exhibited in the White House during this turbulent time.

“Target” is very detailed and extremely explicit. Comments by the other people involved are documented … thus verification of their involvement or observations is possible.

Is this book founded on the truth? Is there a middle ground somewhere? Two sides to every story, right? I don’t know. Kathleen Willey did appear to be utterly sincere and incredibly courageous with no ulterior motives. I do know that this was a fascinating read, although somewhat repetitive at times. I occasionally had to backtrack to recall exactly about whom she was referring. The writing was okay, not great, but well worth the time I spent reading “Target.”

In spite of the flaws of the book, I do highly recommend this book. It was an eye-opener to say the least and will prove to introduce you to the inner workings of a government hopelessly swimming in complete disarray. If this story is true, how very sad … for Kathleen Willey and her family, the other victims, those afraid to speak out and the American people.

– Elizabeth Channery

Psychologist Philip Zimbardo discusses his book “The Lucifer Effect: Understanding How Good People Turn Evil” at Google Headquarters in this hour-long video.

Publishers Weekly summarizes the book: “Psychologist Zimbardo masterminded the famous Stanford Prison Experiment, in which college students randomly assigned to be guards or inmates found themselves enacting sadistic abuse or abject submissiveness. In this penetrating investigation, he revisits—at great length and with much hand-wringing—the SPE study and applies it to historical examples of injustice and atrocity, especially the Abu Ghraib outrages by the U.S. military. His troubling finding is that almost anyone, given the right “situational” influences, can be made to abandon moral scruples and cooperate in violence and oppression. (He tacks on a feel-good chapter about “the banality of heroism,” with tips on how to resist malign situational pressures.)”

In the video discussion below, he talks about how easily people are susceptible to evil given the right circumstances. He also delves into the Abu Ghraib prison scandal (some images are graphic).

“Do we take into account the system?” he asks of our legal sentencing when outside influences pressure people to commit evil. To what extent are the individuals guilty compared to those who are in charge of the system?

“What you are going to see is that evil begins as all evil begins — with a small first step,” he says before discussing how the Abu Ghraib abuses escalated.

Use the BookOpinion.com price comparison search to find the best prices on “The Lucifer Effect.”

Jeffrey Toobin visited the Google New York office recently to discuss his new book “The Nine: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court.” In this 45-minute video, he talks about a wide range of Supreme Court-related subjects.

“They are very cordial to each other,” Toobin says. “They are very correct, polite. They are not particularly close friends.”

Toobin mentions some of the interests of the Justices, as well. “Clarence Thomas has maybe the most interesting hobby of them all. Clarence Thomas, about six years ago, adopted a great nephew who was about eight years old at the time. For entertainment, he bought this gigantic RV which he calls ‘The Bus’. This huge RV. And he and his family tavel around the country, usually in the South, spending the night in WalMart parking lots.”

He also highlights what he said was the one decision that has impacted the court the most.

“They came away from Bush v. Gore rather shellshocked and disturbed about the place of the Court in public life and I think that worry was one factor that pushed Kennedy and O’Connor to the left,” he says.

To find the best prices on “The Nine,” use the BookOpinion price comparison search here.

Amazon has released a podcast excerpt from Michael Palin’s “Diaries 1969-1979: The Python Years.”

“Told in Palin’s inimitable voice,” Amazon writes, “this is a wry, revelatory look at the comic brains behind the show, and Palin’s diary format results in a true day-in-the-life portrait of the troupe.”

In this podcast excerpt Palin reads through diary entries for the filming of Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

Palin says in the book, that a diary “becomes history, but quite unselfconsciously. What proves to be important over a long period is not always what a diarist will identify at the time. For the historians’ sake I should probably have noted every detail of the birth of Monty Python, but it seemed far more important to me to record the emergence of my new family than the faltering steps of a comedy series that would probably last no more than two years. And that, I feel, is as it should be. Legends are not created by diaries, though they can be destroyed by them.”

The Washington Post writes, “Palin provides insights into the group’s dynamics during the decade that brought the Monty Python troupe to international acclaim. This abridgment can be satiating and frustrating, often simultaneously. At face value, it provides many behind-the-scenes moments and explores how and why the comedy troupe went about its business. Yet the mere knowledge that it’s an abridgment will have listeners yearning to hear more—especially Python-quoting fans.”

Use the BookOpinion price comparison tool to find the best prices for: “Diaries 1969-1979: The Python Years.”

Eric Clapton’s Autobiography has received strong reviews and climbed the bestseller charts. BookOpinion has compiled reviews, a video trailer and an excerpt.

“Eric Clapton is a rock legend. His story encompasses genius, fame, tragedy and triumph over adversity in equal measure,” says Richard Cable of Random House. “This will be the inside story of one of the greatest musical figures of our time - we are thrilled and privileged to be publishing this landmark book.”

Publishers Weekly summarizes the book: “As he retraces every step of his career, from the early stints with the Yardbirds and Cream to his solo successes, Clapton also devotes copious detail to his drug and alcohol addictions, particularly how they intersected with his romantic obsession with Pattie Boyd. His relationship with the woman for whom he wrote Layla culminated in a turbulent marriage he describes as drunken forays into the unknown. But he genuinely warms to the subject of his recovery, stressing its spiritual elements and eagerly discussing the fund-raising efforts for his Crossroads clinic in Antigua. His self-reckoning is filled with modesty, especially in the form of dissatisfaction with his early successes. He professes ambivalence about the famous Clapton is God graffiti, although he admits he was grateful for the recognition from fans. At times, he sounds more like landed gentry than a rock star: bragging about his collection of contemporary art, vigorously defending his hunting and fishing as leisure activities, and extolling the virtues of his quiet country living. But both the youthful excesses and the current calm state are narrated with an engaging tone that nudges Clapton’s story ahead of other rock ‘n’ roll memoirs.”

The L.A. Times writes: “Despite his fame, Clapton modeled himself after blues players Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters and the like, letting the music do his talking. As such, he’s still an enigma after more than four decades. Even the most casual fans likely know the basics — the hits, the virtuosity, the crippling addictions, the tragic death of his 4-year-old son — but Clapton fills in many gray areas, recounting his highs and lows with a thoughtfulness often lacking in rock memoirs. Methodically he whittles away at the larger-than-life rock god until a vulnerable, messed-up mortal emerges. When you strip away the expensive houses and art, the cars and boats, stacks of guitars, beautiful women and the applause of millions, what’s left is the humble man from the Surrey County village of Ripley in southern England. Two decades after walking out of a Minneapolis rehab clinic, a still-sober Clapton reflects on his past with dead-eyed clarity.”

The The Boston Herald’s article: “For fans of Clapton’s British blues heyday, including his brief tenurein the Yardbirds, Bluesbreakers, Cream and Blind Faith, the first hundred pages are a treasure. A big fish in a still small London rock scene, Clapton constantly rubbed up against the rock geniuses of the age.”

Clapton also discusses the devastating moment he learned that his 4-year-old son had fallen to his death:

Clapton writes in the book that he was enjoying his first father-son outing alone with Conor the night before the mishap.

He says that he was filled with confidence as a father when he took the little boy home, and had decided to spend more one-on-one time with his son whenever he was in New York.

“The following morning I was up early, ready to walk crosstown from my hotel to pick up (Conor’s mother) Lori (del Santo) and Conor to take them to the Central Park Zoo,” Contactmusic quoted him as writing in his autobiography.

“The phone rang and it was Lori. She was hysterical, screaming that Conor was dead. I thought to myself, ‘This is ridiculous. How can he be dead?’ and I asked her the silliest question, ‘Are you sure?’ “And then she told me that he’d fallen out of the window. She was beside herself. Screaming. I said, ‘I’ll be right there,’” he wrote.

Clapton also recalls the horror of having to identify Conor, who had fallen 49 storeys from a high-rise window, at the morgue.

“Whatever physical damage he had suffered in the fall, by the time I saw him they had restored his body to some normality. As I looked at his beautiful face in repose, I remember thinking, ‘This isn’t my son. It looks a bit like him, but he’s gone,’” he wrote.

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Here is a trailer for the book and CD:

BookOpinion has also found an excerpt from the book on Amazon:

Growing Up

Early in my childhood, when I was about six or seven, I began to get the feeling that there was something different about me. Maybe it was the way people talked about me as if I weren’t in the room. My family lived at 1, the Green, a tiny house in Ripley, Surrey, which opened directly onto the village Green. It was part of what had once been almshouses and was divided into four rooms; two poky bedrooms upstairs, and a small front room and kitchen downstairs. The toilet was outside, in a corrugated iron shed at the bottom of the garden, and we had no bathtub, just a big zinc basin that hung on the back door. I don’t remember ever using it.

Twice a week my mum used to fill a smaller tin tub with water and sponge me down, and on Sunday afternoons I used to go and have a bath at my Auntie Audrey’s, my dad’s sister, who lived in the new flats on the main road. I lived with Mum and Dad, who slept in the main bedroom overlooking the Green, and my brother, Adrian, who had a room at the back. I slept on a camp bed, sometimes with my parents, sometimes downstairs, depending on who was staying at the time. The house had no electricity, and the gas lamps made a constant hissing sound. It amazes me now to think that whole families lived in these little houses.

My mum had six sisters: Nell, Elsie, Renie, Flossie, Cath, and Phyllis, and two brothers, Joe and Jack. On a Sunday it wasn’t unusual for two or three of these families to show up, and they would pass the gossip and get up–to–date with what was happening with us and with them. In the smallness of this house, conversations were always being carried on in front of me as if I didn’t exist, with whispers exchanged between the sisters. It was a house full of secrets. But bit by bit, by carefully listening to these exchanges, I slowly began to put together a picture of what was going on and to understand that the secrets were usually to do with me. One day I heard one of my aunties ask, “Have you heard from his mum?” and the truth dawned on me, that when Uncle Adrian jokingly called me a little bastard, he was telling the truth.

The full impact of this realization upon me was traumatic, because at the time I was born, in March 1945—in spite of the fact that it had become so common because of the large number of overseas soldiers and airmen passing through England—an enormous stigma was still attached to illegitimacy. Though this was true across the class divide, it was particularly so among working–class families such as ours, who, living in a small village community, knew little of the luxury of privacy. Because of this, I became intensely confused about my position, and alongside my deep feelings of love for my family there existed a suspicion that in a tiny place like Ripley, I might be an embarrassment to them that they always had to explain.

The truth I eventually discovered was that Mum and Dad, Rose and Jack Clapp, were in fact my grandparents, Adrian was my uncle, and Rose’s daughter, Patricia, from an earlier marriage, was my real mother and had given me the name Clapton. In the mid–1920s, Rose Mitchell, as she was then, had met and fallen in love with Reginald Cecil Clapton, known as Rex, the dashing and handsome, Oxford–educated son of an Indian army officer. They had married in February 1927, much against the wishes of his parents, who considered that Rex was marrying beneath him. The wedding took place a few weeks after Rose had given birth to their first child, my uncle Adrian. They set up home in Woking, but sadly, it was a short–lived marriage, as Rex died of consumption in 1932, three years after the birth of their second child, Patricia.
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