Richard Rothstein, The Color of Law ***

The Color of Law argues that residential segregation in the United States is largely attributable to de jure governmental action at the local, state, and federal levels. For example, the FHA wouldn't ensure mortgages for African Americans, and local governments used zoning laws to control where African Americans could live. Rothstein makes this specific argument because several Supreme Court decisions, not to mention public opinion, assume that segregation results from de facto prejudice on the part of individuals and is therefore not entitled to remedy by governmental action.

Rothstein makes a convincing case, although he does sometimes rely too heavily on anecdotal evidence. His examples are all from the past, which opens him up to the objection that we're all better now. He clearly explains how past discrimination has led to current wealth discrepancies, but such an argument won't persuade anyone who doesn't already agree with him.

I picked The Color of Law because I've wanted to read something about the history of U.S. housing policy and I'm interested in the ways that well-intentioned programs can have unexpected negative side effects. I got neither of these. The governmental actions that Rothstein describes were all too conscious of their racial impact, and US housing policy is a small part of the story.

As an aside, it was painful to be reading this book during a week where the Supreme Court upheld President Trump's travel ban, which is just the kind of government action Rothstein laments: racially motivated under a cloak of fair-mindedness. Then Justice Kennedy announced his retirement...

Karin Tidbeck, Jagannath ***

Most of the stories in this collection blend realistic everyday activities with an edge of the uncanny. In "Some Letters for Ove Lindstrom," for example, a daughter writes letters to her dead father in an attempt to make peace with her estrangement from him... and implies in passing that her mother was a vittra. They are narrated in a straightforward style, with supernatural elements taken for granted.

The name Ove Lindstrom and references to vittra confirm that Tidbeck is Swedish. Scandinavian touches such as holiday villages, cloudberry jam, and dansband music contribute to the slightly exotic atmosphere for an American reader. Tidbeck translates the stories herself, and she includes a short essay at the end of the book about how that affects their "taste."

I enjoyed the book. The stories were pleasurable and short enough not to wear out their welcome. The final few stories were more completely fantastical, and I found them less interesting.

Bruce Chatwin, In Patagonia ***

The Vintage edition of In Patagonia refers to it as "the book that redefined travel writing." I'm not sure I would characterize it as travel writing at all. It's certainly not a book to read to learn about the country or its people. Chatwin approaches Patagonia as a mythical land that attracts restless wanderers and displaced Europeans.

The landscape descriptions are short and tend to the primary colors. Nearly everyone Chatwin meets is European: Welsh in the north, English in the south, with Germans in the middle. The indigenous population plays a decidedly supporting role in the stories he tells about people trying to recreate home in a remote part of the world. There's far more about Butch and Sundance than about gauchos; the ringleaders in the Socialist rebellions were exiled Russians.

Joy Williams, The Visiting Privilege ***

Frankly, I'm not sure how to rate The Visiting Privilege, new and collected stories from Joy Williams.

How would you describe the tone of this passage?

They took them to the cemeteries, from which the children would return with rubbings which Constance found depressing—

     This beautiful bud to us was given
     To unfold here but bloom in heaven

or worse!

     Here lies Aimira Rawson
     Daughter Wife Mother
     She has done what she could

The children affixed the rubbings to the side of the refrigerator with magnets in the shape of broccoli.

Kinda dark but sharply funny. Whatever it is, I love it. I'm also impressed with Williams' prose, interesting characters, and ability to direct the reader's attention to multiple tableaux at the same time. (For example, "White" takes place at a party, but the main character Joan also notes the goings-on of the dog next door.) All arguments for a high rating.

But there wasn't a single story whose narrative arc made sense to me. Literary short stories are often more like sketches than self-contained accounts, but that's not what is happening here. Williams' stories go in a more unpredictable direction than that. For example, "Congress" starts as a relationship drama, shifts gears when due to a hunting accident "a large portion of [the man's] brain lost its rosy hue and turned gray as a rodent's coat," becomes a travelogue through the Southwest (with a hilarious party scene), and ends with the woman taking over a famous taxidermy museum. I enjoyed almost all of it, but the conclusion didn't bring it home.

If it's about the journey and not the destination, The Visiting Privilege gets four or five stars.