Gift ideas for that rare dad who reads

A few weeks ago one of those tiresome controversies about whetherpeople read or do not read sprung up on the Internet. In this case,the people who supposedly don't read are men; the people whosupposedly believe men don't read work in publishing; and the peoplewho don't believe that men don't read were led by thriller writerand former editor, Jason Pinter, who started the whole thing in theHuffington Post. The entire affair was draining, not least becausethe example of a book which people in publishing had (mistakenly)thought wouldn't be read was "A Lion's Tale: Around the World inSpandex" by Chris Jericho, a professional wrestler.

I bring this up because you have exactly one week to getsomething for Father's Day for dear old Dad if he still exists, orfor yourself if, like me, you enjoy books that men would read ifonly people would stop insulting them. Let's begin with history:sports history, in fact. An excellent history of the United Statescould be written through the prism of baseball. Politics, economics,demographics, business, race and labor relations, transportation,agriculture, manufacturing, technology, communications, war, andreligion - it's all reflected in the development of baseball.Howard Bryant's huge and truly magnificent "The Last Hero: A Life ofHenry Aaron" (Pantheon, $29.95) explores almost every one of thoseaspects for the decades it covers. It is also, and most importantly,an astute character study and account of the life, career, triumphs,and tribulations of Henry Aaron, one of baseball's greatest players.If I were somebody's father, it would be first on my wish list.

Another candidate is Edward Achorn's "Fifty-Nine in '84: Old HossRadbourn, Barehanded Baseball, and the Greatest Season a PitcherEver Had" (Smithsonian, $25.99). It will never again be possible fora pitcher to win 59 games in one major-league season, and it'snearly as impossible to understand how Charles "Old Hoss" Radbourndid it in 1884 in a 112-game season - some of which he missed, thebeginning because of a dead arm and, later, because he walked out ina snit.

At 5'9" and 168 pounds, Radbourn was a hard-drinking sourpussfrom Illinois who played for the Providence Grays from 1881 to 1885.His record-breaking year was a decisive one for pitchers as a whole,cementing their central role by making throwing overhand legal. Butthe toll increasingly aggressive pitching took on men's arms wasworsened by teams maintaining pitching rosters of only two men. Fora good deal of the 1884 season, injury reduced Providence to one:Radbourn, providing him with the opportunity to take up tenancy inthe pitcher's box. Still, nothing but cussedness and courage canreally explain how he pulled off so many wins. He did, of course,benefit from having a hard-playing, talented team behind him, strongdrink inside him, and the love of a woman of ill-repute in the shapeof Carrie Stanhope, whose story this fine book also covers.

Alchorn has dug deep into newspaper files and other archives,including marvelous photographic collections, to give us a raw andrude picture of baseball's Old Testament era. He also shows us avanished America, a time when Providence and Boston were prosperous,pugnacious rivals, their games drawing fans from New Bedford, FallRiver, and Worcester; a distant day, too, when sports writing washigh-flown and fistic. He is generous with oddities of materialdetail and ways of life, including stories of atrocioussportsmanship on the part of players and perfidy on that of umpires - who justly feared for their lives.

Funny books about booze, traditional gifts for men, arefrequently given, and infrequently read; indeed, their obnoxiousjocularity may actually account for some men being put off readingforever. One of the few exceptions is Bernard DeVoto's classic "TheHour," first published in 1951 and long out of print. Now, I amdelighted to report, it's back in a tidy little hard-cover volume(Tin House, Books, $16.95) introduced by Daniel Handler (who alsowrites as "Lemony Snicket").

Great historian of the American West and editor of Mark Twain'spapers, DeVoto was not reticent in his opinions or timid in style.He was just the man to lay down the law in matters of taste anddecorum. ("Whiskey and vermouth cannot meet as friends and theManhattan is an offense against piety.") The book is a celebrationof good plain bourbon and rye, and of the martini, America's giftsto the world. It is also a blast of righteousness and wrath againstthe abominations of rum and sweet drinks ("If the Republic comescrashing down, the ruin will have been wrought by this lust forsweet drinks."), and the "coy and cute and leering" whimsicalitythat began to surround drinking and its appurtenances after WorldWar II. the Second World War. The book ends with a paean to the hour- 6 p.m. to be precise - when drinks are served, and to its highestexpression, the martini. Strict instructions for its making aregiven, though with the reassurance that "of men and women alike itrequires only intelligence and care - oh, perhaps some additionalinborn spiritual fineness, some feeling for artistic form which, ifit isn't genius, will do quite as well."

Let us conclude with the sort of book that women like to buy formen, specifically, "How to Get Things Really Flat: Enlightenment forEvery Man on Ironing, Vacuuming and Other Household Arts" by AndrewMartin (The Experiment, paperback, $14.95). Martin, who is English,is best known as the author of a terrific historical mystery seriesset in the early 20th century, starring Yorkshire railway man JimStringer. (The first is "The Necropolis Railway," and you can takeit from there.) The present book, though provided with a preface tothe US edition, won't really serve much practical - or corrective -purpose for Americans. There are still too many differences betweenthe two countries for that, but so what? The book is filled withhistorical cleaning lore, self-deprecating reflection, and a loonyproselytizing spirit. It is also a very funny personal history.Martin writes fervently of the joys of bringing order to the happyhome, of war on the evil dust mite, of the preternatural power ofthe vacuum-cleaner "crevice tool," and of all the tricks and toolsof the trade: "If you're going to buy a feather duster - and that'sprobably a big `if' in the case of most men - then don't buy asynthetic one."

Katherine A. Powers lives in Cambridge. She can be reached by e-mail at pow3@verizon.net.

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