Sept. 29 - Our selection of non-fiction books covers the far away — the stars and the planets — and the very close — the human body. There’s also a fascination with fire — from the famed Triangle Shirtwaist fire that changed forever work in America to a look at three devastating wildfires.

BODY TALK

BE WARNED: reading Michael Sims’ “Adam’s Navel: A Natural and Cultural History of the Human Form” (Viking/Penguin, $24.95) is an interactive experience. Sims’ lavish, accomplished prose infuses you with a delicious awareness of your own physicality, and you will want to investigate firsthand this fleshy object you inhabit, one which has been perfected over millions of years.

Chapters are ordered according to body part, so if you pruriently desire to skip directly to the genitals, you can.

You will follow the curve of your brow with a curious finger and minutely examine the hair patterns on your arms as Sims details their purpose. You will not need to believe in divine creation to see your own physiognomy for the work of art, and yet the practical machine, that it is. The book contains delightful turns of phrase; the nose, for example, is “an instrument with two apertures for analyzing particles floating in the air.”

Sims, who must read exhaustively, draws from mythology, poetry, evolutionary science, and etymology as he goes over the visible body inch by inch: its evolved function, appearance and sociological role. In a single breath, he can and does allude to Darwin, Leonardo, and Tallulah Bankhead. Sims avoids the appearance of pedantry with liberal doses of sardonic wit — referring to the “showy ears of chimpanzees and British royalty.”

Chapters are ordered according to body part, so if you pruriently desire to skip directly to the genitals, you can. —Kim Rollins

INVENTING GINGER

“We’re basically a cult,” dryly states Ginger’s lead control engineer in “Code Name Ginger: The Story Behind Segway and Dean Kamen’s Quest to Invent a New World” (Harvard Business School Press, $27.95). Ginger’s Jim Jones is Dean Kamen, a charismatic corporate showman straight out of central casting — it’s as if Steve Jobs and P.T. Barnum had been frappéed in a blender.

The author does get in a few digs at the visionary himself, who rails against the world’s overdependence on fossil fuels as he divides his time between his Hummer and his Citation X jet.

Steve Kemper’s book is the tale of Kamen and his team, who develop what became the Segway Human Transporter: a self-balancing vehicle that was the topic of relentless hyperbolic speculation two years ago, when its existence was first leaked to a slavering press.

Although this is primarily Kamen’s story, those who are initially interested in the grandiose CEO will find Kemper’s anecdotes of his mixed-nut assortment of quirky engineers far more charming. Kemper decodes for us their geek lingua franca of “code bloat” and “feature creep.”

Unfortunately, Kemper’s insider view of Ginger ends in January 2001 with the abruptness of a beheading, just as the world at large gets wind of Kamen’s project. When Kemper is blamed for jeopardizing Ginger’s secrecy, his access key is immediately deactivated. Kemper’s lingering admiration for Kamen’s vision is yet evident. The author does get in a few digs at the visionary himself, who rails against the world’s overdependence on fossil fuels as he divides his time between his Hummer and his Citation X jet. —K.R.

FIGHT CLUB

Even those repelled by the spectacle of two men exchanging punches will gain a grudging respect for the sport of boxing after reading Carlo Rotella’s memoir “Cut Time: an Education at the Fights” (Houghton Mifflin, $24). What appears to the uneducated to be a brawl between two brutes is illuminated by Rotella to be a delicate skill, offering “lessons in spacing and leverage” and the value of “perseverance before rage”.

The book is therefore a strange, compelling intersection of witty intellect and barbarism, as if PBS decided to air a four-part special on the culture of Monster Truck Shows.

A professor at Boston University, Rotella is an apparent anomaly: a wry, erudite fight fan. The book is therefore a strange, compelling intersection of witty intellect and barbarism, as if PBS decided to air a four-part special on the culture of Monster Truck Shows. Rotella observes the manner in which ringside observers feel shamefacedly “complicit in the wrongness” of an obvious mismatch, and pens a searing passage on how the human mind reacts to a physical blow.

In his most entertaining chapter, Rotella juxtaposes his treasured collegiate memories of a hilariously horrible barroom dustup (wherein a townie thug takes out three Wesleyan bullies in an off-campus dive) with a high-class match at the Washington City Club. The latter features black-clad servers and a pre-fight performance by the Pointer Sisters; the former ends in humiliating arrests. Yet both accounts revolve around the same essential event — big men hitting one another with their fists until, perhaps, one goes down and cannot get back up. —K.R.

FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN

Those of us raised on Smokey Bear’s rebukes — and the Disney tragedy in which Bambi’s home is destroyed by fire — will find a few unexpected ideas in John N. Maclean’s “Fire and Ashes: On the Front Lines of American Wildfire” (Henry Holt & Co., $25). Maclean refers to “wildlands badly in need of more fire,” and reveals that the “no-burn” policy of the previous century is what has led to such devastating blazes in recent history. Chaparral and undergrowth left unchecked by natural fires have created a wilderness heavy with fast-burning tinder.

This is the story of three devastating American wildfires (in 1949, ’53, and ’99) and those who fought them, followed by a overview of US fire policy and the major blazes that shaped it — including the “Big Blowup” of 1910, an Idaho fire whose smoke reached Boston. Maclean concludes with a curious glossary of firefighting terms, e.g. “Twig Pig” (a National Park Service law-enforcement ranger.)

The coverage of the first chapters is solidly researched and composed, humanizing those on the broiling front lines. In one instance, Maclean offers a strangely sympathetic portrait of an arsonist who would, in trying to drum up firefighting work for himself, toss a match into a dry field. Those flames would eventually kill fifteen men, most of them young volunteers from a nearby Christian mission. Some of the images are unforgettable, such as that in which dim beams from the headlamps of those fighting a night fire are gradually, inexorably, ravenously swallowed by an onrushing wall of brilliant flame. —K.R.

I LOVE THE ’70S

While it’s hard to take seriously a critic of 1970s American filmmaking who dismisses Hal Ashby out of hand, Ryan Gilbey’s “It Don’t Worry Me” (Faber and Faber, Inc., $24) is an insightful look at 10 American filmmakers who hit their stride in the 1970s. Born in Britain in 1971, Gilbey gives an outsider’s view on this pivotal film decade.

Gilbey’s convictions about certain films are so strong that you may find yourself rethinking your own opinions — perhaps Kubrick’s “Barry Lyndon” is worth another look or it could be time to rent Jonathan Demme’s “Citizens Band.” The inclusion of Kubrick and Demme are two of the more curious choices Gilbey makes. Kubrick only made two films in the 1970s: “A Clockwork Orange” and “Lyndon.” Demme came more into his stride in the 1980s and ’90s with films like “Something Wild” and “Silence of the Lambs.”

His views of some of the more traditional celebrated filmmakers are in some ways very standard: the Altman chapter is your standard hero worship. But the reexamination of George Lucas’ “American Graffiti” as pre-Altman Altman — in that it follows the story lines of multiple characters — may be one that you haven’t heard before. A meditation of what “Apocalypse Now” might have been like if Harvey Keitel (who’d been cast originally) had not been replaced by Martin Sheen is one of the more interesting directions Gilbey takes you. He wants you to think about the films rather than simply the filmmakers. If nothing else, you’ll be armed with a good list for the next time you go to the video store. —Paige Newman

DEATH IN THE DESERT

Raffi Kodikian longed to be Jack Kerouac, traveling the nation, telling its stories. He and his friend David Coughlin expected to camp for just one night in New Mexico’s Carlsbad Caverns National Park, but couldn’t find their way out. For four days they wandered, growing more and more dehydrated and desperate. When the rangers finally found them, Kodikian was alone. He had killed and buried Coughlin, he said, at his friend’s request, to put him out of his ever-growing agony.

The boys hadn’t brought enough water, yet they didn’t crack open a can of beans to try to drink the liquid within.

“Journal of the Dead” by Jason Kersten (HarperCollins, $24.95) spends most of its time on what happened after Kodikian was saved — the investigation into Coughlin’s death and Kodikian’s trial for his murder. New Mexico did not have a mercy killing statute, and elements of Kodikian’s story seemed suspicious. The boys hadn’t brought enough water, yet they didn’t crack open a can of beans to try to drink the liquid within. If the men were so devastated by the heat and dehydration, how had Kodikian managed to pile stones — some weighing 50 pounds or more — on the “cowboy grave” he made for his friend.

“Journal” is a quick read, and the case is a fascinating one.

Kersten shines in the description of the most vital scenes, those in the desert — even those sitting indoors with a glass of iced tea and the A/C on full blast can feel the desert heat. But where he falls down is in getting the friends to New Mexico in the first place. The best true-crime books do not just describe the crime, but trace the lives that led up to it. It appears that Kersten was not able to interview Kodikian — perhaps that would have given the story that needed background. Still, it’s a riveting book about a fascinating case. —Gael Fashingbauer Cooper

STAR-GAZING

All the recent hubbub about Mars sent many people scattering to bookstores and web sites looking for tips on how to view the night sky. While Mars-mania has passed, there is still plenty to see in the celestial landscape. And fortunately, there is a very good guide to help amateur astronomers navigate the sky. “Mapping the Sky: The Essential Guide to Astronomy” by Leila Haddad and Alain Cirou (Sevil Chronicle, $24.95) is an excellent introduction to finding your way around the night sky and the basics of astrophysics.

The book is divided into two halves. The first part covers the history of astronomy and how man moved from the geocentric (Earth-centered) to the heliocentric (Sun-centered) principles of our Solar System, Isaac Newton’s “discovery” of gravity and as basic an explanation of Einstein’s theory of relativity as any layman can expect to get. The second part is a practical guide to viewing the sky — avoiding bright lights, what kind of telescope to buy, how to view planets, constellations and other celestial events. It even includes a star chart that allows star gazers to track constellations by time of year and day. The authors, Leila Haddad and Alain Cirou, have extensive backgrounds in astronomy. Cirou is director of the French Astronomy Association.

While the writing might be a bit too advanced for younger children, high school-age astronomers and older will have no trouble understanding the terminology and explanations. The soft-back book also includes plenty of photographs and illustrations to aid in explaining the fascination show on display above us each night. Readers would not need to read the historical section of the book to make good use of the practical tips and suggestions. —Denise Hazlick

It’s hard to read the engrossing “Triangle: The Fire That Changed America” by David Von Drehle (Atlantic Monthly Press, $25) and not think of Sept. 11. In this 1911 New York City fire, workers were trapped in the factory where they worked. Some ran for the elevators, but those didn’t always work. In the end, many leapt from windows to their deaths while people on the street watched in horror. In fact, the Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire was the deadliest workplace disaster until — well, you know until what.

Von Drehle does what he can to dig those century-old names out of mothballs and bring the dead — mostly women, mostly teens, mostly immigrants — back to life.

Von Drehle does an amazing job of transporting readers back to a turn-of-the-century New York crammed with immigrants. He takes them inside the shirtwaist factories where so many of them were employed, and out on the streets when they strike for such things as a 52-hour work week, overtime pay, and other things we now take for granted. Young women were beaten by police and hired thugs for daring to strike, and when they were about to give in for lack of money, wealthy society women leapt in with generous donations.

The strikes could make for a fascinating book on their own, but the heart of the book is, of course, the fire, described in chilling second-by-second detail. Locked doors, flimsy fire escapes and careless smoking led to 146 deaths. Von Drehle does what he can to dig those century-old names out of mothballs and bring the dead — mostly women, mostly teens, mostly immigrants — back to life. It’s an amazing tale of an all-but-forgotten tragedy, and can only serve to remind those of us in the workplace today how hard-won our comforts really are. —G.F.C.

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